Once more Long Tom was fired, loaded with langrage, which swept with fearful effect across the deck of the corvette. Not a shot came from her in return. The brig’s guns were, however, again loaded; but just before the triggers were pulled, down came the corvette’s ensign! A loud cheer burst from the throats of the British crew. Murray was on the point of anchoring, intending to send a boat on board to take possession, when a brig was seen dropping down the harbour, and followed by three schooners, favoured by a light breeze off shore.
“See, my lads, here come more of them!” he cried, in a cheery voice. “We will settle them, however, as we have done the corvette!”
“Ay, ay, sir, that we will!” shouted the voices of his gallant fellows.
“You wouldn’t say so if you didn’t intend it,” he answered.
“Well, try and see how quickly we can finish them off.”
The brig was some way ahead of the schooners, and Murray, anxious to engage her before their arrival, put the brig about, assisted by the light breeze, which just then filled her sails. Her commander, not aware that the corvette had struck her colours, was little prepared for the reception he was to meet with. As soon as Murray had got this fresh foe within range of his long gun he opened fire. The shot, well aimed, went crashing through her side; the second shot was fired before she got near enough for the carronades to reach her. The belief that the English brig had only one long gun prevented the Carthagenans from attempting to escape. The next time Long Tom was fired, his shot was attended by two from the carronades. The enemy replied with her broadside, but most of her shot went flying over the Supplejack, while others fell ahead or astern of her, wide of their mark. Not one of Long Tom’s shot missed, most of them striking between wind and water; and as she drew nearer they told with still greater effect. At last the enemy put about and attempted to run up the harbour. Vain were her efforts to escape; the last shot striking her gave her her death-blow. With her canvas all set and colours flying, gradually she sank till the water washed over her decks, and her crew were seen scrambling aloft, leaving the wounded to their fate. Within ten minutes of the time she got into action her topmasts alone appeared above the surface. Just before this the three schooners had come up and had opened their fire, but none of their shot had struck the Supplejack; and their commanders, seeing the fate of their consorts, came to the conclusion that discretion was the better part of valour, and hauled down their flags amid the cheers of the British crew. Murray lowered his boats and sent them to pick up any of the brig’s crew who might have been unable to escape aloft. The lives of several were thus saved. The schooners also sent their boats and took off the men from the rigging. The Supplejack then stood back for the corvette. Murray directed Higson and Desmond to take possession. Their fat friend, the first lieutenant, received them at the gangway, with his hat in one hand and his sword in the other. There was no bluster in him now.
“Where is the commodore?” asked Higson, looking round the deck, which was strewed with dead men.
“There!” answered the lieutenant, pointing to the mangled form of a man which lay on the quarter-deck, his uniform alone showing that it was that of the commodore. He had been almost cut in two by a shot from Long Tom.
“How many men have you lost?” asked Higson.
“Twenty-five,” answered the lieutenant. “Our crew declared that they were fighting with devils and not men, and refused to fire another shot.”