“The steward came, and a tub of grog was soon mixed upon the main-deck, and equally as soon despatched. ‘All ready,’ was now heard fore-and-aft, when the helm was put up. ‘Stand by, my boys, as we pass under his stern,’ cried the captain: ‘point your guns well; pour it into him; and then follow me.’
“The Spaniards seemed to be aware of our intention; for they immediately hove all aback; but they could not accomplish their object, while we came easily round upon his quarter, and gave him a whole raking broadside double-shotted. All hands rushed from below; and, in less than two minutes, scoured the enemy’s decks; while Bill and a party broke in the cabin-windows, and dashed forward on the main-deck, bearing down all before them. The two captains met, and science was instantly called into play, while for a few minutes both parties seemed to pause, as if the victory depended on the conqueror; but a Spaniard, unnoticed, levelled his musket at our captain, and the ball lodged in his hand. The sword instantly dropped, but the gallant Spaniard scorned to take advantage; he lowered the point of his weapon, and flew to another part of the deck.
“Again the battle closed, and each fought with a determination to conquer or die. At last, three British cheers resounded from abaft; and there, upon the taffrail, stood Bill, hoisting the English colours over the Spanish at the peak. Several Spaniards flew to resent the insult, and the poor fellow would, no doubt, have fallen, had he not caught hold of a little French officer in the Spanish service, and held him up as a shield against their thrusts, till timely assistance rescued him. This affair, however, had divided the attention of the enemy, while it cheered up our men to fresh exertion. With one desperate rush they cut down all before them, and in a few minutes more, the frigate was our own. The slaughter ceased, and we were all good friends. The two captains dined together, and ever after lived like brothers; while the prisoners shared in our messes and partook of our grog.
“In overhauling our prize, we found she was from Buenos Ayres, with a freight of money. So away we went into port with gold candlesticks at each yard-arm, and at each mast-head; and as long as it lasted, fiddles, girls, coaches,—all were in motion; till by dint of hard labour we got rid of it, and then tossed up the anchor for more.”
I was highly entertained with these characteristic sketches of the man-of-war’s man, and the old boys seemed delighted with the opportunity of relating their former achievements. I was also much pleased with the deference they seemed to pay to each other, and the attachment which appeared to exist amongst them. The grog, however, began to operate a little, and the question was put, “whether his honour would like to hear a song?” Of course I acceded to any thing that was calculated to increase their enjoyments, and one of the younger men of the party—a marine, but blind—gave us the following song, which my old chaperon whispered to me was one of his own making.
“Ned Splice was a tar as devoid of all fear
As e’er swabb’d a deck from the spray of a sea;
He knew every rope, and could hand, reef, and steer,—
Book-larning, why, Lord! ’twas all dickey to he.
Our chaplain could spin out a very fine yarn,