r. We had gallantly done our duty by beating off so
far superior a force. The enemy was in fall flight--we might have
overtaken them--but if we had, and captured them all, we should have so
completely weakened our crew that we could not have ventured to continue
our voyage, and should certainly have had to put into port to refit.
Our helm was accordingly put up, and once more we stood to the southward
after our convoy.

Having to leave the enemy was, I believe, a far greater trial and
exertion of moral courage in our captain, than having to follow and
attack them once more would have been.

Some officers I have known would have gone after them, and perhaps have
risked the loss of the richly-laden merchantmen under their charge. Our
crew, to a man, felt this, and not a complaint or a growl was heard at
our allowing the enemy to escape.

Darkness soon hid them from our sight. The battle was over, but our
work was not. All night long we were busy in repairing damages, and
daylight still found us engaged in the same occupation. The magazine
was once more closed, the blood-stained decks were washed down, and in
the course of the day the ship resumed much of her wonted appearance,
though it was no easy work to get rid of the traces of the severe
conflict in which we had lately been engaged.

At length the hands were piped below, the watch on deck was set, and the
others allowed to turn in and get some of that rest we so much needed.
Then it was that the recollection of my painful position returned to me.
I was a prisoner released for a time, with a severe punishment hanging
over me. Suppose even the captain were to remit my punishment, in
consequence of the way in which I knew that I had behaved in the fight,
I should still be loaded with disgrace. I should be looked upon as a
convicted thief. Such were the feelings with which I went to my
hammock. I was just about to turn in, when I heard my name called.

"The doctor has sent for you, Weatherhelm," said the messenger, who was
one of the hospital attendants. "There is a man dying, and he wants to
see you."

I slipped on my clothes and hurried down to the orlop deck. I found the
purser, with the chaplain, standing near the hammock of a seaman. The
surgeon came up at the same time. "I am glad to see you, Weatherhelm,"
he said in his usual kind way. "That poor wretch exonerates you from
the charge he made against you, and begged to set you that he might ask