His brave crew well led by Jack and the boatswain, every time the Spaniards attempted to gain a footing on the forecastle of the English brig, those who succeeded were cut down, while the rest were driven back.
“Now, my lads! follow me, and we’ll board them,” cried Jack.
His proposal was replied to with a loud cheer, and he and Needham were on the point of leaping on to the brig’s forecastle, when a shout from aft made him turn his head, and he caught sight of Don Lopez and seven or eight of his companions, who had just made their way on deck by the companion-hatch. The Don had a musket in his hand with which he was fiercely attacking the surgeon, who had, however, the moment before seized one, and was warding off the blows aimed at him. Jack singing out to Needham to defend the forecastle, sprang aft with several of his men to the assistance of McTavish. Just then the bows of the slaver separated from the Supplejack, and at the same moment one of the officers of the former, who had been looking eagerly to windward, shouted to the captain. He instantly ran aft to the helm, which had been deserted; but instead of attempting to regain his former position, put it up, and allowing his vessel to shoot ahead as soon as she had gathered way, went about and stood off to the northward. Don Lopez and his companions, seeing themselves deserted, threw down their arms and hurried below again as fast as they had come up. Needham’s first impulse was to rush back to Long Tom, with which he began to pepper the retreating slaver as rapidly as the gun could be loaded, while the two carronades were worked with equal quickness.
Jack had been so busily employed in defending the brig, that he had had no time to attend to anything else. He now, for a moment, turned his glance to windward, when he immediately discovered the cause of the slaver’s flight.
Standing towards him and coming on at a rapid rate was a ship carrying a press of sail, and a schooner which was quickly recognised as the Venus, by the cut of her sails, as well as by their snowy whiteness. He could scarcely doubt that the large vessel was the corvette, yet it would have been impossible for the Venus to have gone to Port Royal, and to have returned in so short a time.
The slaver, without firing a shot, was doing her best to escape, by setting all the sail she could carry; her crew being actively employed in knotting and splicing the rigging, which Needham’s shot had already somewhat damaged.
“Try one more,” exclaimed Jack, “and good luck go with it.”
Needham took good aim: the shot, passing through the maintopsail, struck the foretopmast, which fell over the side. A loud cheer burst from the throats of the English crew, and all hands redoubled their efforts in repairing their own damages. They were soon able to set the foretopsail and jib, and get the brig about, and away they went in hot chase after their antagonist. The latter had not hitherto shown her colours; she now hoisted an American ensign, but that did not save her from another iron missile, thrown from Long Tom. She, on this, quickly exchanged the American colours for those of Spain, which, however, were treated in the same way, and finding at length that she had no chance of escaping from her active pursuer, she hauled them down and hove to.
Jack ordered a boat to be lowered, and directed Needham and the only midshipman remaining with him to board the prize; his other officers, the doctor and purser, being busily engaged with the wounded men. Needham was quickly alongside, and stepping on board he found that out of her crew of forty hands, six had been killed and eight or ten severely wounded, while her bulwarks and the companion-hatch had been considerably knocked about. Among the killed was her first officer, whilst the captain and several others were wounded.
Needham, as directed, inquired for her papers—