ake a rush and
board her. The privateersmen were on their guard, and warned the boats
off, and after the warning had been repeated once or twice unheeded,
they fired into them, killing and wounding several men. Upon this the
boats promptly returned to the ships.

This first check greatly irritated the British captains, and they
decided to repeat the experiment that night with a force which would
render resistance vain. Accordingly, after it became dark, a dozen
boats were sent from the liner and the frigate, manned by four hundred
stalwart British seamen, and commanded by the captain of one of the
brigs of war. Through the night they rowed straight toward the little
privateer lying dark and motionless in the gloom. As before, the
privateersmen were ready for their foe, and when they came within range
opened fire upon them, first with the long gun and then with the lighter
cannon; but the British rowed on with steady strokes, for they were
seamen accustomed to victory over every European foe, and danger had no
terrors for them. With fierce hurrahs they dashed through the shot-riven
smoke and grappled the brig; and the boarders rose, cutlas in hand,
ready to spring over the bulwarks. A terrible struggle followed. The
British hacked at the boarding-nets and strove to force their way
through to the decks of the privateer, while the Americans stabbed
the assailants with their long pikes and slashed at them with their
cutlases. The darkness was lit by the flashes of flame from the muskets
and the cannon, and the air was rent by the oaths and shouts of the
combatants, the heavy trampling on the decks, the groans of the wounded,
the din of weapon meeting weapon, and all the savage tumult of
a hand-to-hand fight. At the bow the British burst through the
boarding-netting, and forced their way to the deck, killing or wounding
all three of the lieutenants of the privateer; but when this had
happened the boats had elsewhere been beaten back, and Reid, rallying
his grim sea-dogs, led them forward with a rush, and the boarding party
were all killed or tumbled into the sea. This put an end to the fight.
In some of the boats none but killed and wounded men were left. The
others drew slowly off, like crippled wild-fowl, and disappeared in the
darkness toward the British squadron. Half of the attacking force had
been killed or wounded, while of the Americans but nine had fallen.

The British commodore and all his officers were maddened w