The bugles sounded, the cannon roared, the musketry rattled, and the men
cheered, and all was hurra, and fire, and fury. The breeze was strong
enough to carry all the smoke forward, and I saw the deck of the schooner,
where the moment before all was still and motionless, and filled with dark
figures, till there scarcely appeared standing room, at once converted into
a shambles. The blasting fiery tempest had laid low nearly the whole mass,
like a maize plant before a hurricane; and such a cry arose, as if "Men
fought on earth, and fiends in upper air."

Scarcely a man was on his legs, the whole crew seemed to have been levelled
with the deck, many dead, no doubt, and most wounded, while we could see
numbers endeavouring to creep towards the hatches, while the black blood,
in horrible streams, gushed and gurgled through her scuppers down her
sides, and across the bright white streak that glanced in the moonlight.

Some one on board of the privateer now hailed, "We have surrendered; cease
firing, sir." But devil a bit--we continued blazing away--a lantern was run
up to his main gaff, and then lowered again.

"We have struck, sir," shouted another voice, "don't murder us don't fire,
sir, for Godsake."

But fire we still did; no sailor has the least compunction at even running
down a privateer. Mercy to privateersmen is unknown. "Give them the
stem," is the word, the curs being regarded by Jack at the best as
highwaymen; so, when he found we still peppered away, and sailing two feet
for our one, the schooner at length, in their desperation, hauled her
wind, and speedily got beyond range of our carronades, having all this
time never fired a shot. Shortly after this we ran--under the Rayo's stern