dy of fire, to rise above
our mastheads, and then down they came, spreading far and wide, hissing
into the water among the boats and the hundreds of poor wretches
struggling for their lives. Among them was the French commodore.
Captain Casabianca, I heard, was his name. He was a brave man. He had
his son with him, a little fellow only ten years old, as gallant, those
we rescued told us, as his father. They were blown up together. We saw
the two, the father holding on his son clinging to a spar. We pulled
towards them, but just then a bit of the burning wreck must have struck
them and carried them down, for when we got up to the spot they were
nowhere to be seen. That's the worst of a battle; there are so many
young boys on board who often get as cruelly hurt as the men, and
haven't the strength to bear up against their sufferings. Well, as I
was saying, we pulled about, picking up the half-burnt struggling
wretches wherever we could find them among the bits of floating wreck.
Only seventy were saved out of many more than a thousand men on board.
That was about ten o'clock. For some time not a shot was fired. Every
man felt that something awful had happened, but still many of the
Frenchmen hadn't given in. So at it again we went, and blazed away at
each other till three in the morning. When daylight returned, only two
of the enemy's ships of the line had their colours flying, and they had
not been engaged. They, with two frigates, cut their cables in the
forenoon, and stood out to sea, we having no ships in a fit state to
follow them. There were thirteen French line-of-battle ships when the
action began; we took nine, two were burned, and two escaped; and of the
four frigates one was sunk and another burned; while the enemy lost
three thousand one hundred and five men in killed and wounded. Captain
Westcott was the only captain killed, but we lost in all nearly nine
hundred other officers and men. As soon as the battle was over, an
order was issued that all on board every ship should return thanks to
Almighty God, who had given us the victory. Many a hearty thanksgiving
was offered up that day. It was a solemn ceremony; not a word was
spoken fore and aft till the chaplain began the prayers. A dead silence
reigned throughout the fleet. The Egyptians and Arabs on shore could
not make it out, I've heard say; and even the French officers, prisoners
on board, infidels as they were, listened with respect, and