CHAPTER XXXIX.
“Who bore the murd’ring steel?
… The arrow came not
From the ranks of the foe, a nearer hand
Hath winged the shaft.”
“The upright sentence struck upon his heart.
And then sent forth a groan of agony.”
The Euphrasia was cruising off the French coast, when, one morning, Fitz-Ullin, who was walking the quarter-deck, discovered, what appeared to be a sail in shore. On using his glass, however, he perceived that there were two, the one a large privateer, the other a smaller vessel ahead, of which the privateer seemed to be in pursuit. He immediately issued orders to make all sail and give chace. In a little time the privateer was within pistol-shot of the headmost ship, but, being closely pressed by the Euphrasia, she was obliged to content herself with the wanton mischief of firing one gun as she passed.
She had hitherto been to windward of the frigate, she now bore away, with the evident intention of crossing her bows, when the wind, suddenly shifting, threw her all aback. The Euphrasia shortly after came up with her, upon which, seeing no further chance of escape, she slackened sail and fell almost alongside. While the crew of the Euphrasia were busily engaged taking in their sails, Fitz-Ullin, who was looking out for the lowering of the privateer’s colours, observed some of her men pointing a long twenty-four pounder, which was placed in the centre of their deck, and which appeared to turn on a pivot. At first, he could scarcely believe that so useless a piece of cruelty could be intended; seeing them, however, actually about to apply the match, he ordered the small armed party of marines to fire a volley into the midst of them. In a moment, the fellows who had been employed about the gun were swept away. This destructive piece of ordnance was afterwards found to be loaded with buck shot, old nails, and crooked pieces of iron. Had it been discharged from so short a distance, on the, just then, necessarily crowded decks of the frigate, the havoc must have been dreadful.