would; and they looked as if they intended to keep to their word, as
they stood with their shirts off, handkerchiefs bound round their heads,
and belts round their waists, ready to fire as soon as the order should
be given. In a line behind where we stood were the powder-boys seated
on their tubs, cracking jokes, and seeming altogether to forget that we
should have, in a few minutes, showers of round shot rattling about our
ears. Though we used to call Mountstephen Molly, he didn't look a bit
like a Molly now, for he walked the deck as calm and composed as if
nothing particular was going to happen. I asked him what o'clock it
was. He said, `Twenty minutes past three.' Just then the _Dreadnought_
opened her fire on the French commodore; and didn't Captain Suckling
pound him--knocking away in a few minutes several of his spars, and so
wounding his rigging that he fell on board the _Greenwich_, which, as I
said, was close astern of him. As the _Dreadnought_ stood on, we got
up, and the word to fire was passed along our decks; and you may be sure
we quickly obeyed it, blazing away at the two French ships already foul
of each other, when they drove down upon the third astern, and there all
three lay, unable to get clear one of the other.

"The French had a 64 and a 44 gun ship, besides two 32-gun frigates,
which were able to manoeuvre, and these, as you may suppose, did not
remain quiet while the _Augusta_ and _Edinburgh_ were blazing away at
the three ships, which still lay jammed together. It made the fight,
however, more equal than it would otherwise have been. Their shot came
on board us pretty thickly, and not a few of our men were struck down.
Among them was our first lieutenant, who raised his hand for a moment,
and then fell back, dead. Soon afterwards I saw poor Mountstephen fall;
I ran to help him, when I found that one of his legs had been shot away
and the other fearfully injured. I ordered a couple of men to carry him
below; I should have liked to go with him, poor fellow, but I couldn't
leave the deck. I had returned to my station, when I found myself
suddenly splashed all over with what I thought was water, though it was
rather warm.

"`What, Paddy Tracy, are you wounded?' I heard Nat Kiddle sing out.

"`Not that I know of,' I answered; `I don't feel like it.' Then I saw
what had happened--a man standing close to me had been cut right in two
by a round shot, which came through the port, wounding