Again the frigates, on opposite tacks, poured in their broadsides—the fore-yard of the Frenchman was divided in the slings, and fell, hanging by the topsail sheets and lifts, and tearing the sails, which fell over the forecastle guns, and caught fire as they were discharged at the same moment. Nor did the Aspasia suffer less, for her mizen-topmast was shot through, and her starboard anchor, cut from her bows, fell under her bottom and tore away the cable (a short range of which Captain M— had had the precaution to have on deck, as they fought so close in shore). This threw the men at the guns into confusion, and brought the ship up in the wind. The cable was at last separated, and flew out of the hawse-hole after the anchor, which plunged to the bottom but this was not effected, until, like an enormous serpent, it had enfolded in its embraces three or four hapless men, who were carried with dreadful velocity to the hawse-hole, where their crushed bodies for a time stopped it from running out, and gave their shipmates an opportunity of dividing it with their axes.
Order was eventually restored, and the Aspasia, who had been raked by her active opponent during the time that she was thrown up in the wind, continued her course, and as she passed the stern of the French frigate, luffed up and returned the compliment. The latter, anxious in his crippled state for the support of the batteries, which had already seriously injured his opponent, continued to forge inshore.
“We shall weather her now;—’bout ship, Mr Pearce. Recollect, my lads,” said Captain M—, when the ship was about, “you’ll reserve your fire till we touch her sides; then all hands to board.”
The Aspasia ranged up on the weather quarter of her antagonist—Pearce, the master, conning her by the captain’s directions, so that the fore-chains of the French vessel should be hooked by the spare anchor of the Aspasia. The enemy, who, in his disabled state, was not in a situation to choose whether he would be boarded or not, poured in a double-shotted and destructive broadside; and it was well for Captain M— that his ship’s company had received the reinforcement which they had from the Susanne, for the French frigate was crowded with men, and being now within pistol-shot, the troops, who were so thick on deck as to impede the motions of each other, kept up an incessant fire of musketry, cutting the Aspasia’s running rigging, riddling her sails, and disabling her men.
“Hard a-port now!” cried Pearce, and the vessels came in collision, the spare anchor in the Aspasia’s fore-chains catching and tearing away the backstays and lanyards of the enemy’s fore-rigging, and, with a violent jerk, bringing down the fore-topmast to windward. At this moment the reserved broadside of the Aspasia was discharged, and the two frigates heeled over opposite ways, from the violent concussion of the air in the confined space between them. While yet enveloped in the smoke, the men flew up on deck, as they had been previously directed by Captain M—, who leaped upon the quarter-deck hammocks of his own frigate, and, holding with one hand by the mizen-topmast backstay, with his sword in the other, waving to encourage his men, waited a second or two for the closing of the after-parts of the vessels, before he led on his boarders.
The smoke rolled away through the masts of the French frigate, and discovered her captain, with equal disregard to his safety, in nearly a similar position on the hammock rails of his own vessel. The rival commanders were not six feet apart, when the main-chains of the two vessels crashed as they came in collision. The French captain drew a pistol from his belt and levelled it at Captain M—, whose fate appeared to be certain; when, at the critical moment, a hat, thrown from the quarter-deck of the Aspasia, right into the face of the Frenchman, blinded him for a minute, and his pistol went off without taking effect.
“Capital shot, that, Willy!” cried McElvina, as he sprang from the hammocks with his sword, “giving point” in advance, and, while still darting through the air with the impetus of his spring, passing it through the body of the French captain, who fell back on his own quarter-deck, while McElvina, fortunately for himself, dropped into the chains, for, had he a hundred lives, they would have fallen a sacrifice to the exasperated Frenchman: but the smugglers had followed McElvina; and Captain M—, with the rest of his ship’s company, were thronging, like bees, in the rigging, hammocks, and chains of their opponent. From the destructive fire of the French troops, many an English seaman fell dead, or, severely wounded, was reserved for a worse fate—that of falling overboard between the ships, and, at the heave of the sea, being crushed between their sides. Many a gallant spirit was separated from its body by this horrid death as the strife continued.
Possession was at length gained of the quarter-deck; but the carnage was not to cease. The French troops stationed in the boats on the booms, formed a sort of pyramid, vomiting incessant fire; and the commandant had had the sagacity to draw up three lines of his men, with their bayonets fixed, from one side of the vessel to the other, abreast of the gangways, forming a barrier, behind which the crew of the French had retreated, and which was impenetrable to the gallant crew of the Aspasia, who were only provided with short cutlasses.
Captain M—, as he saw his men falling on every side, and every attempt to force a passage unsuccessful, although accompanied with heavy loss of lives, found himself, as it were, in a trap. To force his way through appeared impossible—to retreat was against his nature. McElvina, who had been fighting by his side, perceived the awkward and dangerous predicament they were in, and his ready talent suggested a remedy. Calling out loudly, “Susannes! away there!—follow me!” an order instantly obeyed by his men, he disappeared with them over the hammocks, leaping back upon the quarter-deck of the Aspasia.
“Curses on the smuggler, he has run for it. At them again, my Britons never mind,” cried the first-lieutenant, leading on the men against the phalanx of bayonets. But it was not as the first-lieutenant had supposed; for before the cutlasses of the seamen had time again to strike fire upon the steel points which opposed their passage, McElvina reappeared in the fore-rigging of the French vessel, followed by his smugglers, who attacked the French troops in the rear, with a loud yell, and an impetuosity that was irresistible. The diversion was announced by a cheer from Captain M— and his party abaft, who, rushing upon the bayonets of the Frenchman, already in confusion from the attack of McElvina, forced them down on the main-deck, and in a few minutes the hatches were secured over the remainder of the crew, and the tricoloured ensign disappeared from the gaff; and announced to the spectators in the batteries on shore, that “Britannia ruled the waves.”