ners had been
secured and passed below, and that our lads were already busy
overhauling the prostrate bodies and separating the living from the
dead. I thereupon directed the coxswain to release the crew of the
Indiaman--who were at that moment lying bound hand and foot down in the
forecastle--to rout out three lanterns, and to hang them lighted one
above the other in the ship's rigging, as a preconcerted signal to
Woodford that we had been successful; and then to take the gig with
eight hands and pull away to the _Dolphin_ for the doctor. My next task
was to send a couple of trustworthy hands into the Indiaman's cabin to
assist the passengers in any way which might be found needful; after
which I scrambled down on board the brigantine to see how matters were
going there.

I had just gained the deck of the prize when the three lanterns were
displayed in the Indiaman's rigging, upon which a hearty cheer came
ringing over the water from no great distance, and, though we could see
nothing, the lightning having by this time ceased, we soon heard the
measured roll and rattle of sweeps, succeeded a few minutes later by the
arrival of the _Dolphin_ alongside; Woodford having grown impatient and
determined to see for himself what was going forward.

This, of course, greatly facilitated matters, as we were enabled to
transfer our wounded directly on board the schooner, where Sanderson was
all ready awaiting them; and this we made our first task. Our
casualties were very heavy, as I had feared they would be, five of the
attacking party being killed and seventeen of them wounded severely
enough to need the doctor's services; the French loss being twenty-two
killed and forty-five wounded; so desperate, indeed, had been their
defence that there were only three of them who had escaped completely
unscathed. About an hour after the arrival of the _Dolphin_ alongside
the prizes, the doctor of the Indiaman came down to assist our surgeon,
at the same time reporting all his patients, with one exception--but
including the skipper and chief officer, both of whom I had supposed to
be dead--to be doing well. The one melancholy exception was the poor
little boy I had seen lying wounded in his mother's lap, and he the
worthy doctor feared would not outlast the night. The brave little
fellow, it seemed, from the story told by the doctor, had been cruelly
cut down by the wretch I had killed, in revenge for the child having
resented with a