NOCKED DOWN.

We now pressed the ship with every stitch of canvas that we could set.
We had already learned the name of our friend in the distance; it was
the _Jean Bart_. Indeed, at this time, almost every fourth French
vessel in those seas, if its occupation was the cutting of throats, was
a "Jean Bart." However, _Jean Bart_, long before we had done with the
_Prince William_ had spread a cloud of canvas--a dark one, it is true--
and had considerably increased his distance from us. It was a chase
dead before the wind. By nine o'clock the breeze had freshened. I
don't know how it could be otherwise, considering the abundance of
wishing and votive whistling. At ten we got a good sight of Johnny
Crapaud's hull from the maintop, and found out that she was no frigate.
I was not at all nervous before, but I must confess, at this certainty
my courage rose considerably. I narrowly inspected the condition of the
four after-quarter guns, my charge, and was very impressive on the
powder-boys as to the necessity of activity, coolness, and presence of
mind.

Dr Thompson now came on deck, very much lamenting the disordered rites
of his breakfast. The jocular fellow invited me down into the cock-pit,
to see his preparations, in order, as he said, to keep up my spirits, by
showing me what excellent arrangements he had made for trepanning my
skull, or lopping my leg, should any accident happen to me. I attended
him. What with the fearnought [_an amazingly thick cloth of a woollen
texture_] screens, and other precautions against fire, it was certainly
the hottest place in which I had yet ever been. The dim, yellow, yet
sufficient light from the lanterns, gave a lurid horror to the various
ghastly and blood-greedy instruments that were ostentatiously displayed
upon the platform. Crooked knives, that the eye alone assured you were
sharp, seemed to be twisting with a living anxiety to embrace and
separate your flesh; and saws appeared to grin at me, which to look
upon, knowing their horrid office, actually turned my teeth on edge.
There were the three assistant-surgeons, stripped to their shirts, with
their sleeves tucked up ready, looking anxious, keen, and something
terrified. As to the burly doctor, with his huge, round, red face, and
his coarse jokes, he abstracted something from the romantic terrors of
the place; but added considerably to the disgust it excited, as he
strongly reminded me of a carcass butcher in full pra