The scene which followed was terrific, each party fighting like furies, and disputing inch for inch—the deck swimming with blood. Two fellows set upon Harry at once. One of these, the lieutenant of the Frenchman, he quickly dispatched with a shot from his pistol; but the other, a strong thick-set seaman, with a black bushy beard, was just firing his musket at his head, when a tremendous thwack from a cutlass behind, severed the stock in pieces, and the next moment the weapon was sheathed in the Frenchman’s breast. Harry, on turning round to observe his deliverer, recognised in him our old friend, Bill Curtis, who, covered with blood and powder, and wounded as he was, was again in the thickest of the fray, dealing death at every blow. There was no time for congratulation, however, for the enemy was pressing them on every side; for, although Harry had been nobly supported by Clark and Archer, with thirty more men, yet the enemy had, by their numbers, hemmed them in on every side, and would soon have cut them all to pieces, had not an unexpected attack from behind suddenly changed the fortunes of the day. This was no other than the old quartermaster, who had been left in charge of the brig, with the remainder of the crew, with strict injunctions not to leave her, happen what might. He had, accordingly, for some time, impatiently looked on the struggle, when, no longer bearing to remain inactive, he sung out that the ship might go to the devil, but he would be hanged if he would stand still any longer and see his shipmates cut to pieces by lubberly Frenchmen. So saying, he jumped upon the Frenchman’s deck, followed by the rest of the crew, who were all as eager as himself; and so sudden and furious was the attack, that the Frenchmen, quite dispirited by this unexpected assault, were glad to seek shelter from their fury, some in the rigging, others down the hold, while those who remained were fain to cry for quarter, which was readily given them. The men in the rigging had fled to the tops for shelter, but, seeing their comrades obtain quarter, they also surrendered themselves at discretion. The next minute the British ensign was waving proudly in the breeze at the topmast of the Frenchman, and three long and hearty cheers, which were responded to by the people on the shore, told the success of the engagement.
The loss on both sides was great, though that of the French greatly exceeded that of the British. Harry, fearing that the French might take it in their heads to set upon him again, as they were still so much superior in number, ordered them below, and battened down the hatches upon them all, except the surgeon and his mate, whom he kept to assist his own in dressing the wounds of the men. On looking amongst the slain of his crew, Harry observed amongst them the stiffened corpse of poor Bill Curtis. Harry could not help shedding a tear to the memory of this brave fellow, who had so nobly seconded him in the time of need. Bill was covered with gore; but an air of defiance was still seated upon his countenance, and his hand still firmly grasped his cutlass, which had that day been wielded with so much success against the enemies of his country. The old quartermaster came up at this moment, and Harry, shaking him by the hand, said to him, “I believe we must have you tried by court-martial, for disobedience of orders. However,” he added, more seriously, “I believe, had it not been for your disobedience of orders, we should have all been in the state of that poor fellow,” pointing to Bill.
“Ay,” said the old quartermaster with a sigh, “a braver fellow never stepped in a black leather shoe. However, it’s a road we must travel once; and where die better than fighting for one’s country? For my part, I would sooner die on a ship’s deck, with the thunder of the cannon sounding in my ears, than on a bed of the finest down.”
The people on the shore, seeing that the danger was over, and that the British had gained the victory, had now manned several boats, and were approaching the ships. In the foremost of these was old Ben, who, being the proprietor of the village in which he lived, took upon himself, on all expeditions by sea, the office of commodore of the fleet.
“A noble fellow the captain of that there little craft,” exclaimed Ben, as he approached the Hawk; “he deserves to be made an admiral, whoever he is. Gracious Heaven, there is my own nephew, Harry!” cried he, springing up the fore chains.
“My own uncle, Ben!” exclaimed Harry, springing forward to embrace him. Cordial, indeed, was the meeting of the uncle and nephew; and perhaps it were difficult to tell which was the greater—the joy of the nephew, or the pride of the uncle.
“But you are all blood, Harry,” said the uncle—“you must be wounded.”
“A mere scratch,” said Harry; “but some of my poor fellows have suffered; but, as the wind favours, we had better get the vessels into the harbour.”
The news of the engagement had spread like wildfire through the country; and, as the vessels approached the harbour, crowds of people were waiting to cheer the gallant fellows who had fought so nobly. The wounded were immediately conveyed on shore and distributed among the inhabitants, who were eagerly striving which should receive them; whilst those who had fallen, both French and English, were decently interred, side by side, in that narrow house where all feuds and animosities are buried in oblivion.
The rest of our story is soon told. Harry, soon after the engagement, was united to Maria, with the consent of all parties. For some time after his marriage, he still went to sea; but, on the decease of Maria’s father, his property devolving upon him, he retired to enjoy the society of his amiable wife, and that domestic repose to which his toils and labours so well entitled him. Clark, the first lieutenant, having fallen in battle, on Harry’s giving up the service, Archer was promoted to the command of the Hawk, and he soon after married Susan, Harry’s sister. As for the old quartermaster, who had borne so distinguished a part in the engagement, he was at last prevailed upon by Harry to take up his abode in a beautiful cottage upon his estate. A clear stream runs by the cottage door, and the situation commands a fine view of the sea; and the old man may still frequently be seen sitting at his cottage door, on a summer evening, enjoying the beauties of the scene; or, if you rise soon enough, you may perhaps see him taking his morning walk along the beach, with his spy-glass in his hand. His chief delight, however, is in Harry’s house, where he is quite at home. He is particularly attached to Harry’s children, who are his inseparable companions; and the old man may frequently be seen with one on each knee, recounting to them the exploits of his former days, some of which we may, at some future period, communicate to the reader.