Up jumped the commander and his lieutenant, and the next moment they were on deck.
They were then some five leagues off the coast of France, in a line with Ushant. It was blowing strong from the east-northeast, with a good deal of sea on. The Onyx was under single-reefed topsails, her top gallant masts housed. It was after sunset, with every appearance of a dirty night. Captain O’Loughlin directed his glass in the direction of the strange sail, whose topsails could be seen with the naked eye. She was coming up rapidly, under double-reefed topsails, and he pronounced her to be a frigate, whether French or English he could not say, but half an hour would decide. The corvette being on an enemy’s coast, and cruising for the purpose of destroying privateers or taking prizes, she was always ready for action.
The Onyx was noted for her splendid sailing qualities. She carried sixteen long nine-pounders, and two eighteen-pound carronades in the bridle ports, and two twelve-pound carronades on the quarter-deck and forecastle. Her full complement of men and boys was one hundred and forty-five; but having taken two prizes, her first lieutenant, twenty-five men, and two midshipmen were absent. Shortly after, as the stranger came nearer, signals were hoisted, which not being answered, Captain O’Loughlin became convinced that she was an enemy, and of vastly superior force. In fact, she soon convinced them, notwithstanding the fast increasing gloom and the commencement of a fog, that she was a thirty-two gun frigate, of double the tonnage of the Onyx. As she came nearer, she hoisted French colours, and commenced firing her bow-chasers.
Captain O’Loughlin, though quite justified in getting out of the way of so formidable an antagonist, resolved, nevertheless, to annoy her as much as possible. Having cut away the jolly boat to make room for four stern chasers, the Onyx opened fire from them, as soon as the French frigate got fairly within range, whose shot was flying over them. In a few minutes the fog, which kept increasing, put an end to the combat for the time.
“We must get the weather-gage of that fellow,” said Captain O’Loughlin to his only lieutenant, Charles Pole, “in case we should meet again.”
Accordingly, the Onyx hauled her wind to the eastward. Towards seven o’clock next morning she perceived her late antagonist close on her larboard quarter; whilst the Commander, with a speaking trumpet, hailed, ordering the corvette to strike.
To this a broadside was returned, and the next moment the frigate ran her bowsprit right over the starboard bow of the corvette; but as the wind was blowing very fresh, her jib-boom broke short off, and the corvette forcing ahead, freed herself. Just then a sailor threw himself from the French ship into the rigging of the Onyx, and probably in the confusion would have been cut down, had he not shouted in a loud voice—
“Hold hard, my men! I am an Englishman!”
The denseness of the fog again separated the two ships, after exchanging each a broadside, by which one man was killed and three wounded on board the Onyx. Captain O’Loughlin altered his course, and stood away to the westward to repair and splice his rigging, which was desperately cut up.
“Where is the man who threw himself on board?” demanded Captain O’Loughlin; “bring him aft.”