“Here it is, my bantam,” said one of the boatswain’s mates, who had discovered it as they removed the body of the French captain, under which it had lain, jammed as flat as a pancake.
“Then it was to you that I was indebted for that well-timed assistance;” said Captain M—, taking the hat from the boatswain’s mate, and restoring it as well as he could to its former shape before he put it on Willy’s head.
Willy looked up in the captain’s face, and smiled assent as he walked away.
“A good turn is never lost,” observed Captain M—; “and the old fable of the mouse and the lion is constantly recurring to make us humble. If I had not put that boy on the quarter-deck, I should in all probability have made a vacancy. It was remarkable presence of mind on his part.”
We have not broken in upon our narrative to state, that during the scene we have described Mr Pearce, the master, had succeeded in putting both vessels before the wind, although they still were hugged in each other’s embraces, as if they had always been the best friends in the world, and they were now out of the reach of the enemy’s batteries, which (as soon as they perceived the unfavourable results of the action) had commenced firing with red-hot balls, emblematical of their wrath.
When the wounded had been carried below, and placed in comparative comfort on board of their respective ships, the dead bodies were next examined. Those of the French (with the exception of that of the captain) were launched overboard; while those of the English were then removed, and the French officers, having delivered up their swords, were permitted to remain on deck upon parole, while the men were secured down below in the fore and main holds of the Aspasia, the hatchways being covered over with a strong splinter-netting, that they might not be deprived of fresh air in their crowded situation. The charge of the prize having been confided to the first-lieutenant and fifty men, the two ships were separated, and laid to, to repair the damages sustained in the conflict.
Captain M—, whose wounds were not serious, had descended for a short time to have them washed and dressed. His anxiety to put his ship in an efficient state, and get clear of the bay, previous to bad weather coming on, had induced him to return on deck as soon as he had taken a little refreshment.
McElvina had also cleansed himself from the gore with which he had been begrimed, and having applied to the surgeon to assuage the pain of a severe cut which he had received on his shoulder, came upon the quarter-deck with his arm in a sling, dressed with his usual precision and neatness. He touched his hat to Captain M—, with whom he had not communicated since he had quitted him on the quarter-deck of the French frigate, to create the fortunate diversion in favour of the boarders.
“Captain McElvina,” said Captain M—, taking his hand, and shaking it warmly, “I can hardly express how much I am obliged to you for your conduct this day. You may be assured that, upon my return, I shall not fail to make a proper representation of it to Government. I only wish that there was any situation in my ship that could induce you to remain.”
“Thank you, Captain M—,” replied McElvina, smiling; “but, although on a smaller scale, I have long been accustomed to command; and I should be very sorry that a vacancy should occur in the only situation I would accept.”