ughed Courtenay; and flinging himself
down in the stern-sheets of the boat, he drew his cutlass, and affected
to be very cautiously feeling its edge, to the covert amusement of the
men who happened to see him.

"It's a'most sharp enough for you to shave with, ain't it, sir?"
demurely inquired the smart fore-topman, who was stroke-oar in
Courtenay's boat, at which there was another grin; Courtenay's chin
being as guiltless of hair as the back of a lady's hand, notwithstanding
which it was whispered that he assiduously shaved every morning with his
penknife.

"Now, are we all ready, Douglas?" asked Mr Reid, as he stood in the
stern-sheets of the pinnace, and ran his eye critically over the boats.
"Then, shove off; let fall and give way, lads. Lascelles and I will
tackle the brig, Mr Douglas, whilst I must leave you and Mr Courtenay
to give a good account of those two schooners which have hoisted their
colours. We will take matters quietly, so as to spare the men as much
as possible, until the shot begins to drop round us, when we must make a
dash and get on board as quickly as we can."

Courtenay's assumption that the three vessels we had marked out for
attack were privateers was speedily strengthened by the circumstance
that boats were seen to put off from the smaller craft--doubtless prizes
of the others--conveying what were probably the prize-crews back to
their own ships, to assist in their defence. As we neared the land we
made out that the people in the battery were still standing to their
guns, and we momentarily expected them to open fire upon us; but they
were wise enough to refrain, evidently having already had a sufficient
experience of the frigate's broadsides, the destructive effects of which
became distinctly visible as we pulled past.

Upon our arriving abreast the battery, the brig and the two schooners,
for which we were heading, having got springs upon their cables and
hoisted French colours, brought their broadsides to bear upon us, and
commenced firing, whereupon we separated, taking "open order," as the
marines say, so as to offer as small a mark as possible. It was the
first time I had "smelt powder," and as the shot began to hum past us, I
must plead guilty to having at the outset experienced a certain amount
of nervous trepidation. I had an idea that every shot would find its
mark, that "every bullet has its billet," and I momentarily expected to
feel the crushing blow which would tell me