The starboard ports were now speedily closed, when once more the ship hauled up in chase.
The Foxhound, sailing well, soon got up again with the Mènager, and once more opened her fire, receiving that of the enemy in return.
The port of Ferrol could now be distinguished about six miles off, and it was thought probable that some Spanish men-of-war lying there might come out to the assistance of their friends. It was important to make the chase a prize before that should happen.
For some minutes Captain Waring reserved his fire, having set all the sail the Foxhound could carry.
“Don’t fire a shot till I tell you,” he shouted to his men.
The crews of the starboard guns stood ready for the order to discharge the whole broadside into the enemy. Captain Waring was on the point of issuing it, the word “Fire” was on his lips, when down came the Frenchman’s flag, and instead of the thunder of their guns the British seamen uttered three joyful cheers.
The Foxhound was hove-to to windward of the prize, while three of the boats were lowered and pulled towards her. The third lieutenant of the Foxhound was sent in command, and the Mènager’s boats being also lowered, her officers and crew were transferred as fast as possible on board their captor.
As the Mènager was a large ship, she required a good many people to man her, thus leaving the Foxhound with a greatly diminished crew.
It took upwards of an hour before the prisoners with their bags and other personal property were removed to the Foxhound. Captain Waring and Lieutenant Saltwell turned their eyes pretty often towards the harbour. No ships were seen coming out of it. The English frigate and her two prizes consequently steered in the direction the other vessels had gone, the captain hoping to pick up one or more of them during the following morning. Her diminished crew had enough to do in attending to their proper duties, and in looking after the prisoners.
The commanders of the two ships were received by the captain in his cabin, while the gun-room officers invited those of similar rank to mess with them, the men taking care of the French and American crews. The British seamen treated them rather as guests than prisoners, being ready to attend to their wants and to do them any service in their power. Their manner towards the Frenchmen showed the compassion they felt, mixed perhaps with a certain amount of contempt. They seemed to consider them indeed somewhat like big babes, and several might have been seen feeding the wounded and nursing them with tender care.