or no sooner did this happen than all her sheets and halyards were let
go, and the whole of her canvas was clewed up and hauled down together,
man-o'-war fashion. And thus, with her jibs and stay-sails hauled down,
and her square canvas gathered close up to her yards by the buntlines
and leech-lines, she swerved slightly from her previous course and
headed straight for us, still sliding fast through the water with the
"way" or momentum remaining to her, and just sufficient to bring her
handsomely alongside.

"Now stand by, lads!" I cried. "We must not only beat those fellows
off, but must follow them up when they retreat to their own ship. She
will be a noble prize, well worth the taking!"

The men responded to my invocation with a cheer--it is one of the most
difficult things in the world to restrain a British sailor's propensity
to cheer when there is fighting in prospect--and as they did so the brig
yawed suddenly and poured her whole starboard broadside of grape slap
into us. I saw the bright flashes of the guns, and the spouting wreaths
of smoke, snow-white in the dazzling sunshine, and the next instant felt
a crashing blow upon my right temple that sent me reeling backward into
somebody's arms, stunned into complete insensibility.

My first sensation, upon the return of consciousness, was that of a
splitting, sickening headache, accompanied by a most painful smarting on
the right side of my forehead. I was lying prone upon the deck, and
when I attempted to raise my head I found that it was in some way glued
to the planking--with my own blood, as I soon afterwards discovered--so
effectually that it was impossible for me to move without inflicting
upon myself excruciating pain.

My feeble movements, however, had evidently attracted the notice of
somebody, for as I raised my hands toward my head, with some vague idea
of releasing myself, I heard a voice, which I identified as that of the
carpenter, murmur, in a low, cautious tone.

"Don't move, Mr Grenvile; don't move, sir, for all our sakes. Hold on
as you are, sir, a bit longer; for if them murderin' pirates sees that
you're alive they'll either finish you off altogether or lash you up as
they've done the rest of us; and then our last chance 'll be gone."

"What has happened, then, Simpson?" murmured I, relaxing my efforts, as
I endeavoured to collect my scattered wits.

"Why," answered Chips, "that brig that chased us--you remember, Mr
Grenvile?--tur