flew gaily and the
ensign flapped, and she bore down smoothly on the outer and therefore
unwounded side of the enemy.

"That's what I call judgmatical," old Mike shouted, with a voice that
rivalled cannon; "whoever thought of that deserves three epulets, one
on each shoulder and one upon his head. Doubt if old Keppel would have
thought of that, now. You see, mates, the other Crappo can't fire at her
without first hitting of her own consort. And better than that--ever so
much better--the tilt of the charge will throw her over on her wounds.
Master Muncher hath two great holes 'twixt wind and water on his
larboard side, and won't they suck the briny, with the weight of our
bows upon the starboard beam? 'Twill take fifty hands to stop leaks,
instead of stopping boarders."

The smoke was drifting off, and the sun shone bravely. The battle had
been gliding toward the feet of the spectators; and now from the height
of the cliff they could descry the decks, the guns, the coils of rope,
the turmoil, and dark rush of men to their fate. Small fights, man to
man, demanded still the power of a telescope, and distance made the
trenchant arms of heroes, working right and left, appear like the
nippers of an earwig. The only thing certain was that men were being
killed, and glory was being manufactured largely.

"She've a doed it, she've a doed it rarely. There's not a d----d froggy
left to go to heaven; or if there be so he's a' battened down below,"
old Mike shouted, flourishing his spy-glass, which rattled in its joints
as much as he did; "down comes the blood, froth, and blue blazes,
as they call the Republican emrods, and up goes the Union-jack, my
hearties. Three cheers! three cheers! Again! again! again!"

From the sea far below, and far away, came also the volume of a noble
English shout, as the flag began to flutter in the quickening breeze,
and the sea arose and danced with sunshine. No one, who had got all his
blood left in him, could think of anything but glory.

"My certy, they had better mind their soundings, though!" said the old
navy-man, with a stitch in his side and a lump in his throat, from loud
utterance; "five fathoms is every inch of it where they be now, and
the tide making strong, and precious little wind to claw off with. Jem
Prater! Jem Prater! Oar up, and give signal. Ah, he's too far off to
do any good. In five minutes more they'll be on the White Pig, where no
ship ever got off again. Oh, thank the Lo