The charge took effect in the very thickest of the crowd, literally mowing the French down in heaps. At the same instant both parties of the “Scourges” renewed their attack, and this time their rush proved irresistible; there was a momentary attempt at a stand, but our lads were no longer to be denied; and after another very short but very fierce tussle the French threw down their weapons and cried for quarter. I, however, did not witness the final dénouement; for, being hurried forward by the rest in the final rush, I found myself in the thick of the mêlée before I was quite prepared, and received a crushing blow on the head which felled me to the deck.
The prisoners were immediately secured; and the bulk of the “Scourge’s” crew shifted into the prize, a sufficient number only being left on board the brig to work her; the wounded also were retained on board the frigate, where there was of course much better and more roomy accommodation for them; our worthy medico shifting over, bag and baggage, to look after us. The damage to spars and rigging, which turned out to be unimportant in both ships, was soon made good; and about 3 p.m. we made sail in company, shaping a course for Plymouth, where we arrived without mishap, late on the following evening.
We all received very great credit for what the papers were pleased to term our “dashing exploit;” Captain Brisac being rewarded with post rank, while Mr Sennitt was made a commander, and Mr Clewline moved a step up the ratlines. We midshipmen also received our reward in the shape of “honourable mention;” nor were the warrant-officers forgotten; so that, what with promotion and prize-money, the “Scourges” were for a time the envy of the entire navy. The war, however, had only just begun, or rather broken out afresh; and everybody soon consoled themselves with the reflection that our luck might any day become their own. The prize proved to be the frigate “L’Audacieuse,” of thirty-two guns and 230 men. She was a bran-new ship, and had come out of Brest on her first cruise only the day before we fell in with her. Her loss in the engagement amounted to forty-six killed and thirty-one wounded; our own casualties amounting to fourteen killed and twenty wounded.
My own wound proved to be of a somewhat serious character, the blow having been inflicted with some heavy blunt instrument, and producing concussion of the brain; I was, however, well looked after, and as soon as it was safe to move me, I was transferred to my own home, where I was nursed, petted, and made much of to my heart’s content, until I was in the greatest danger of being spoiled, through the outrageous pampering of my self-love and vanity to which I was subjected.
Luckily, my great-uncle, Sir Peregrine condescended to interest himself in my welfare; the moment, therefore, that I was fairly convalescent he swooped down on the vicarage, like a hawk upon a dove-cot, and carried me off with him to London, where he treated me to a week’s cruise among the sights of the place. At the end of that time he drove with me one fine morning to the Admiralty, where I received my appointment to the “Juno” frigate, then fitting-out at Portsmouth for the Mediterranean.
Note. It may be necessary to explain to the uninitiated reader that the terms “he” and “she” are indifferently used at sea, in reference to craft, but when the masculine pronoun is applied it is understood to refer more especially to the commanding officer of the vessel; while the pronoun “she” refers to the vessel herself.—H.C.