The next instant we were all leaping and scrambling, pell-mell, in over the bulwarks of the brigantine and leaping down on her decks, which were already slippery with blood and cumbered with killed and wounded. Fortunately, by boarding on the brigantine’s port side, as we did, we took her crew in their rear, which so greatly disconcerted them—while our appearance imparted fresh courage to the commodore’s party—that after vainly striving to stand against us for nearly a minute, some flung down their weapons and cried for quarter, while the remainder made a clean bolt of it forward and darted down the fore scuttle, which we promptly closed upon them.
Chapter Thirteen.
Sierra Leone.
The brigantine was ours, and, my first thought being for the safety of all three of the craft, I at once gave orders for the grappling irons to be cast loose, and for the brig and schooner to haul off to a safe distance. Then, looking round the deck of the brigantine, I noticed Freeman, the acting master of the Doña Inez, away aft, with his coat off, and one of his own men binding up the wounded arm of the officer. I hastened aft.
“Not seriously hurt, Freeman, I hope?” said I.
“Hullo, Grenvile, that you?” he returned. “No, thanks; rather painful, but not very serious, I hope. By Jove, but those Frenchmen fought stubbornly; if you had not come up in the very nick of time it would have gone pretty badly with us, I can tell you. You seem to have come off scot free, by the look of you.”
“Yes, I am all right, thanks—not a scratch,” said I. “But where is Mr Fawcett? I don’t see him aboard here.”
“No,” answered Freeman, “poor chap! he is below, aboard the brig, and I am afraid it is a bad job with him. The last broadside that this craft fired into us was at pretty close quarters, as you perhaps noticed, and the skipper was very severely wounded by a large splinter—abdomen torn open. Hamilton, the assistant surgeon, is greatly afraid that it will go badly with him.”