_Torch_ we were safe _home_ again by three in the morning, when we
immediately made sail, and nothing particular happened until we arrived
within a day's sail of New Providence. It seemed that, about a week
before, a large American brig, bound from Havana to Boston had been
captured in this very channel by one of our men-of-war schooners, and
carried into Nassau; out of which port, for their own security, the
authorities had fitted a small schooner, carrying six guns and
twenty-four men. She was commanded by a very gallant fellow--there is
no disputing that--and he must needs emulate the conduct of the officer
who had made the capture; for in a fine clear night, when all the
officers were below rummaging in their kits for the killing things they
should array themselves in on the morrow, so as to smite the Fair of
New Providence to the heart at a blow--_Whiss_--a shot flew over our
mast-head.

"A small schooner lying to right ahead, sir," sang out the boatswain
from the forecastle.

Before we could beat to quarters, another sang between our masts. We
kept steadily on our course, and as we approached our pigmy antagonist,
he bore up. Presently we were alongside of him.

"Heave to," hailed the strange sail; "heave to, or I'll sink you." The
devil you will, you midge, thought I.

The captain took the trumpet--"Schooner, ahoy"--no answer--"D--n your
blood, sir, if you don't let everything go by the run this instant,
I'll fire a broadside. Strike, sir, to his Britannic Majesty's sloop
_Torch_."