The sailormen who were with us looked grave and disturbed as they prepared to obey the command, and we two lads were literally bewildered by mingled fear and astonishment.
However, the hatch was secured in place so firmly that, even though all the Britishers succeeded in getting out of the brig, they could not leave the hold.
When we stood on the gun-deck once more, quivering with fear at the thought of taking part in a battle, I, despite all my timorousness, did not fail to see all the details.
The ports had been opened, and through one or the other, from time to time, came great jets of water as the waves dashed against the ship, flooding the deck until our gunners stood knee-deep in the briny surge.
The hatchway leading to the magazine was guarded by two men, who held it in place as the seas came aboard, and stood ready to open it for the gunners’ assistants whenever they were forced to descend for ammunition.
I question now, since having come to know more regarding such affairs, if sailormen ever took part in a queerer engagement than we were making ready for.
Fancy loading heavy guns when the powder must be held in the arms of the men lest it be rendered worthless by moisture! Think of two or three sailors holding their coats or strips of tarpaulin around the cartridge while it was being placed in the muzzle of the piece, to guard against a sudden inrush of the water! Picture to yourself the ship plunging, rising, rolling, and tossing about while the men made ready to shed the blood of their fellow creatures!
Now and then, as the fabric rose heavily upon the mountains of water, we could see to leeward, half a gunshot distant, a ship which looked to be the very counterpart of our own, save that the cross of St. George was floating where we displayed the stars and stripes.