provisions and water were
complete; but we were not in so much haste to arrive at Malta as we
were to quit Gibraltar--hugging the Spanish coast, in hopes of picking
up something to insure us as hearty a welcome at Valette as we found
on our last return to Portsmouth.

Early on the second morning of our departure we made Cape de Gaete. As
the day dawned we discovered four sail in the wind's eye, and close in
shore. The wind was light, and all sail was made in chase. We gained
very little on them for many hours, and towards evening it fell calm.
The boats were then ordered to pursue them, and we set off, diverging
a little from each other's course, or, as the French would say,
_deployee_, to give a better chance of falling in with them. I was in
the gig with the master, and, that being the best running boat, we
soon came up with one of the feluccas. We fired musketry at her: but
having a light breeze, she would not bring-to. We then took good aim
at the helmsman, and hit him. The man only shifted the helm from his
right hand to his left, and kept on his course. We still kept firing
at this intrepid fellow, and I felt it was like wilful murder, since
he made no resistance, but steadily endeavoured to escape.

At length we got close under the stern, and hooked on with our
boat-hook. This the Spaniards unhooked, and we dropped astern, having
laid our oars in; but the breeze dying entirely away, we again pulled
up alongside, and took possession. The poor man was still at the helm,
bleeding profusely. We offered him every assistance, and asked why he
did not surrender sooner. He replied that he was an old Castilian.
Whether he meant that an earlier surrender would have disgraced him,
or that he contemplated, from his former experience, a chance of
escape to the last moment, I cannot tell. Certain it is that no
one ever behaved better; and I felt that I would have given all
I possessed to have healed the wounds of this patient, meek, and
undaunted old man, who uttered no complaint, but submitted to his fate
with a magnanimity which would have done credit to Socrates himself.
He had received four musket-balls in his body, and, of course,
survived his capture but a very few hours.

We found to our surprise that this vessel, with the three others, one
of which was taken by another of our boats, were from Lima. They were
single-masted, about thirty tons burthen, twelve men each, and were
laden with copper, hides, wax, and cochi