both were fighting for all they
were worth. It was a question which would win, the wind or the men.

As fast as the smoke rose the wind swept it away, so that the gunners
had a clear view of the ships. The roar of the gale was half drowned by
the thunder of the guns, and the whistle of the wind mingled with the
scream of the balls, while the sailors shouted as they ran out their
guns and cheered as the iron hail swept across the waves.

In such frantic haste did the British handle their guns, that they fired
three shots to the Yankees' two. The latter did not fire till they saw
something to fire at. As a result, most of British balls went whistling
overhead, and pitching over the _Wasp_ into the sea, while most of the
Yankee balls swept the decks or bored into the timbers of the _Frolic_.

But you must not think that the shots of the _Frolic_ were all wasted,
if they did go high. One of them hit the maintopmast of the _Wasp_ and
cut it square off. Another hit the mizzen-topgallantmast and toppled it
into the waves. In twenty minutes from the start "every brace and most
of the rigging of the _Wasp_ were shot away." The _Wasp_ had done little
harm above, but a great deal below.

The _Frolic_ could have run away now if she had wanted to. But her
captain was not of the runaway kind. The fire of the _Wasp_ had covered
his deck with blood, but he fought boldly on.

As they fought the two ships drifted together and soon their sides met
with a crash. Then, as they were swept apart by the waves, two of the
_Wasp's_ guns were fired into the bow-ports of the _Frolic_ and swept
her gun-deck from end to end. Terrible was the slaughter done by that
raking fire.

The next minute the bowsprit of the _Frolic_ caught in the rigging of
the _Wasp_, and another torrent of balls was poured into the British
ship. Then the Yankee sailors left their guns and sprang for the enemy's
deck. The captain wanted them to keep firing, but he could not hold them
back.

First of them all was a brawny Jerseyman named Jack Lang, who took his
cutlass between his teeth and clambered like a cat along the bowsprit to
the deck. Others followed, and when they reached the deck of the
_Frolic_ they found Jack Lang standing alone and looking along the
blood-stained deck with staring eyes.

Only four living men were to be seen, and three of these were wounded.
One was the quartermaster at the wheel and the others were officers. Not
another man stood on his f