only sound men; there were not a dozen on the ship who had all
their blood in them. As they pulled away, Perry standing in the
stern, D'ri lifted a bloody, tattered flag, and leaning from the
bulwarks, shook it over them, cheering loudly.

"Give 'em hell!" he shouted. "We 'll tek care o' the ol' brig."

[Illustration: "D'ri, shaking a bloody, tattered flag, shouted, 'We
'll tek care o' the ol' brig.'"]

We were all crying, we poor devils that were left behind. One, a
mere boy, stood near me swinging his hat above his head, cheering.
Hat and hand fell to the deck as I turned to him. He was reeling,
when D'ri caught him quickly with his good arm and bore him to the
cockpit.

The little boat was barely a length off when heavy shot fell
splashing in her wake. Soon they were dropping all around her.
One crossed her bow, ripping a long furrow in the sea. A chip flew
off her stern; a lift of splinters from an oar scattered behind
her. Plunging missiles marked her course with a plait of foam, but
she rode on bravely. We saw her groping under the smoke clouds; we
saw her nearing the other brig, and were all on tiptoe. The air
cleared a little, and we could see them ship oars and go up the
side. Then we set our blood dripping with cheers again, we who
were wounded there on the deck of the _Lawrence_. Lieutenant
Yarnell ordered her one flag down. As it sank fluttering, we
groaned. Our dismay went quickly from man to man. Presently we
could hear the cries of the wounded there below. A man came
staggering out of the cockpit, and fell to his hands and knees,