“All who yield shall have quarter,” cried a voice from among the assailants of the British. “We are honourable enemies, and seek the lives of none who no longer resist. The ladies shall be protected.”
“It’s Hobson’s choice,” said one of the passengers: “let us make terms while we can.”
Several others expressed the same opinion. Indeed, it was evident that further resistance was useless. The ship was already in possession of the enemy. The captain was not with them. Where he was, no one knew. Too probably he was wounded; perhaps killed. Colonel Armytage was a prisoner. The first officer lay desperately wounded in the front rank of the little band, who had so gallantly held out to the last.
“Drop your swords, brave enemies, and the Frenchman who makes another stroke at your head, dies,” said the voice.
Although many had but little faith in the promise, they yielded to necessity. The captors, however, kept their word.
The captain, a stout middle-aged man, came forward, and taking the swords of the officers, bowed to the group of ladies, and assured them that everything in his power would be done for their accommodation.
“Oh, bring my father, then!” exclaimed Miss Armytage. “Let us attend to him, should he be hurt.”
“The officer, my lieutenant, took prisoner?—certainly. He shall be placed under your charge, madam,” answered the captain, with a bow.
As soon as it was daylight, the English part of the Indiaman’s crew, with the officers, as well as the military men among the passengers, were removed on board her captor, which proved to be “La Sybille,” a French privateer corvette. Her name had lately become known for the havoc she had committed among the British merchantmen, many of which had been carried off, but what had afterwards become of them it had not been hitherto ascertained.
It was a great relief to Edda to receive a visit from Captain Winslow. He was wounded, and having been knocked down and stunned when the Frenchman boarded, he had not recovered till the ship was completely in their power.