“A narrow escape, by Jove!” said my messmate who had come to my aid, “these traitorous cowards had well nigh overpowered you, and if they could have cut your little party off they would, I suppose, have made another attempt on the schooner—God confound the rascals!”
“Your arrival was most opportune,” said I, “a few minutes later and it would have been of no avail.” And then, as I ran my eye over our comparatively gigantic foe, I could not restrain the remark, “It is a wonder to me how we conquered.”
“Faith, and you may well say that,” laughingly rejoined my messmate; “it will be something to talk of hereafter. But the schooner hasn’t come off,” he added, glancing at our craft, “without the marks of this fellow’s teeth. But I had forgot to ask who or what the rascal is.”
The prize proved to be a privateer. She had received so many shot in her hull, and was already leaking so fast, that we concluded to remove the prisoners and blow her up. Her crew were accordingly ordered one by one on deck, handcuffed, and transferred to the schooner. Then I laid a train, lighted it and put off from the prize. Before I reached our craft—which by this time had been removed to some distance—the ship blew up.
We rigged a jury mast, and by its aid reached Charleston, where we refitted. Our capture gave us no little reputation, and while we remained in port we were lionized to our hearts’ content.
Eager, however, to continue the career so gloriously begun, we staid at Charleston no longer than was absolutely necessary to repair our damages. In less than a fortnight we left the harbor, and made sail again for the south.
THE BRIDAL.
A SCENE FROM REAL LIFE.
———