“Quarter! quarter!” was the cry. “We have struck! we yield!”
“Cease firing, my lads!” shouted the captain; “we have won the night!”
The order was obeyed. For an instant there was a perfect silence, a contrast to the uproar which had so long continued; even the wounded restrained the expression of their sufferings; and then there burst forth one of those hearty cheers, which few but English seamen can give, and which they so well know how to give with effect. And now many of the brave fellows who had hitherto worked away at their guns without flinching, sank down with fatigue, Rolf Morton even then would not go below.
“I’ll stay on deck and see the enemy secured, and get the ship put to rights a little,” he answered; “I am only just showing my boy how I wish him to behave. While there is duty to do, and a man has strength to do it, he should not shrink from it, whatever it may cost him.”
Ronald listened to what his father was saying.
“That’s it, father; I’ll try and stick to that,” he observed, looking up in his father’s face.
It was now necessary to board the French ship to take possession of her, but how that was to be accomplished was the question, for not a boat that could swim remained on board either of the combatants.
The second lieutenant—one of the few officers unwounded—volunteered to work his way along the hawser, and a midshipman and several of the men offered to accompany him; Ronald begged leave to go also.
In those days, strange as it may seem, many seamen could not swim.
The boarding-party commenced their somewhat hazardous passage from one ship to the other. The “Thisbe” had but slight way on her; the hawser was consequently somewhat slack, and the weight of the people on it brought it down into the water. The lieutenant and several of the men clung on, but the midshipman was by some means or other washed off. Unable to swim, he cried out loudly for help, but no one could afford it, till Ronald let go his own hold of the rope, and swam towards him. Of course to regain the hawser was hopeless, and it was equally difficult to swim back to the “Thisbe.” Ronald had practised swimming from his childhood, and was as much at home in the water as on shore. He struck out with one hand while he supported the young midshipman with the other. His first fear was that the French ship would run them down, but a few strokes carried him and his charge clear of that danger. He next attempted to get alongside her. He looked up, and saw her dark hull rising up above him. There were plenty of ropes hanging overboard; he found one that appeared secure above; he put it into the midshipman’s hands.