and those who had none, armed themselves with knives: they advanced
resolutely against us; we put ourselves on our defence: the attack was
going to begin. Animated by despair, one of the mutineers lifted his sabre
against an officer; he immediately fell, pierced with wounds. This firmness
awed them a moment; but did not at all diminish their rage. They ceased to
threaten us, and presenting a front bristling with sabres and bayonets,
they retired to the back part, to execute their plan. One of them pretended
to rest himself on the little railing which formed the sides of the raft,
and with a knife began to cut the cords. Being informed by a servant, we
rushed upon him--a soldier attempted to defend him--threatened an officer
with his knife, and in attempting to strike him, only pierced his coat--the
officer turned round--overpowered his adversary, and threw both him and his
comrade into the sea!

After this there were no more partial affairs: the combat became general.
Some cried lower the sail; a crowd of madmen instantly threw themselves on
the yards and the shrouds, and cut the stays, and let the mast fall, and
nearly broke the thigh of a captain of foot, who fell senseless. He was
seized by the soldiers, who threw him into the sea: we perceived it--saved
him, and placed him on a barrel, from which he was taken by the seditious;
who were going to cut out his eyes with a penknife. Exasperated by so many
cruelties, we no longer kept any measures, and charged them furiously. With
our sabres drawn we traversed the lines which the soldiers formed, and many
atoned with their lives for a moment of delusion. Several passengers
displayed much courage and coolness in these cruel moments.

Mr. Corréard was fallen into a kind of trance, but hearing every moment
cries of "_To arms! To us, comrades! We are undone_!" joined to the cries
and imprecations of the wounded and the dying, he was soon roused from his
lethargy. The increasing confusion made him sensible that it was necessary