“What ship is that?” continued Captain Delmar.
During this time every man was at his gun; the captains, with the lanyards of the locks in their hands, ready to pour in a broadside.
The reply from the other vessel was—“Vat chip is dat?”
“His Britannic Majesty’s ship Calliope,” replied Captain Delmar; and then he repeated—“What ship is that? Let every man lie down at his quarters,” said Captain Delmar. The order was hardly obeyed, when the stranger frigate poured in her broadside, and as we were then very close, with great execution to our hull and rigging: but as the men had been lying down, very few of them were hurt.
As soon as the crash was over, Captain Delmar cried out—“Up, men, and fire, as I round to under her stern.”
In a few seconds we had passed through the volumes of smoke, and luffed up under her stern: we poured in our whole broadside.
“Let her go off again—flatten in there forward. Reedy about,” was the next order given.
We ran away from her about three cables’ length, until we had sufficient way to tack, and then we went about and stood towards her, steering for her weather quarter, as if we were going to engage her to windward.
“Over to the larboard guns, my lads. Hands by, after bracings and howlings, Mr Hippesley.”
“Aye, aye, sir, all ready.”