The two English ships were to leeward, each leading a line; and we had a
brig, and three large, regular man-of-war schooners, to get past, with the
certainty of meeting the Wolfe and Royal George, should we succeed in
clearing these four craft. Both of us kept up a heavy fire, swivelling our
guns round, so as not to neglect any one. As we drew near the ships,
however, we paid them the compliment of throwing all the heavy shot at
them, as was due to their rank and size.

For a few minutes we fared pretty well; but we were no sooner well entered
between the lines, than we got it, hot and hard. Our rigging began to come
down about our ears, and one shot passed a few feet above our heads,
cutting both topsail-sheets, and scooping a bit of wood as big as a
thirty-two pound shot, out of the foremast. I went up on one side, myself,
to knot one of these sheets, and, while aloft, discovered the injury that
had been done to the spar. Soon after, the tack of the mainsail caught
fire, from a wad of one of the Englishmen; for, by this time, we were
close at it. I think, indeed, that the nearness of the enemy alone
prevented our decks from being entirely swept. The grape and canister were
passing just above our heads like hail, and the foresail was literally in
ribands. The halyards being gone, the mainsail came down by the run, and
the jib settled as low as it could. The topsail-yard was on the cap, and
the schooner now came up into the wind.

All this time, we kept working the guns. The old man went from one gun to
the other, pointing each himself, as it was ready. He was at the eighteen
when things were getting near the worst, and, as he left her, he called
out to her crew to "fill her--fill her to the muzzle!" He then came to our
gun, which was already loaded with one round, a stand of grape, and a case
of canister shot. This I know, for I put them all in with my own hands. At
this time, the Melville, a brig of the enemy's, was close up with us,