The third lieutenant, though he was severely wounded, went aft to the helm, and in less than three minutes from the time the boats got alongside, the prize, under her foresail and foretopsail, was standing down the harbour.
Bill, having got hold of a pistol, kept close to Mr Saltwell, that he might be ready to assist him or obey any orders he might receive. A few only of his men were standing round the lieutenant when a party of the French crew, who had already yielded, led by the boatswain, a big, sturdy fellow, whose cutlass had already brought two of the English seamen to the deck, suddenly attacked him, hoping to regain the ship. The sailors had enough to do to defend themselves, and the big boatswain was making a desperate blow at the lieutenant’s head, when Bill, who thought it a time to use his pistol with effect, fired, and the boatswain fell, his cutlass dropping from his hand. His followers on this sprang back, and, throwing down their weapons, cried for mercy.
“I saw you do it, my lad,” said the lieutenant. “The second time you have saved my life. I’ll not forget it.”
The English sailors now had work enough to do to prevent the Frenchmen from rising. While sail was being made, numerous boats also were seen coming off from the shore full of armed men, evidently with the intention of attempting to board the prize. Sail after sail was let drop, and the ship ran faster and faster through the water. She was not, however, as yet entirely won. Her crew, though beaten down below, were still very numerous, and might, should they find the boats of their friends coming alongside, at any moment rise and try to regain her. The fort also had to be passed, and the garrison were sure to have heard the uproar and would open fire as soon as she got within range of their guns.
Notwithstanding this, the British seamen performed their various duties as steadily as if they were on board their own ship. Some were aloft, loosing sails; others ran out the guns, ready to give the boats a warm reception, and others kept an eye on the prisoners.
The breeze freshened, and the prize in a short time reached the mouth of the harbour. No sooner had she done so than the guns from the fort, as had been expected, opened fire, and their shot, thick as hail, came crashing on board. Several men were struck, and the sails shot through and through. None of the yards, however, were carried away, and the canvas stood filled out with the breeze.
A number of prisoners had remained on deck, with sentries over them, as the shot struck the ship. Several, to avoid it, endeavoured to escape below. Some succeeded, not waiting to descend by the ladders, but leaping down, to the no small risk of breaking their arms and legs. There was still more sail to be set, and Bill was pulling and hauling, when he saw a shot come plump in among a party of prisoners. Three fell; the rest, in spite of the sentries, making a desperate rush, leapt down the main hatchway.
Bill at that moment saw a young Frenchman, who had been struck, struggling on the deck, and a voice crying out which he thought he recognised.
He sprang towards the sailor, and lifted him up. He was not mistaken; it was his friend Pierre.
“Are you badly hurt?” he asked in French.