se with her assailant. This broadside was fairly effective:
it silenced a gun, killed three men, and wounded five.

The _Desespere_ had got round far enough to save herself from being
raked a second time. Broadsides were given and received; but as soon as
the _Pride_ had tacked again, it was evident she meant forcing the
fighting in the good old English fashion first introduced by bold Hubert
de Burgh.

Down came the _Pride_. She would not be denied. One wild cheer, one more
terrible broadside as her guns almost touched those of the enemy, then
grappling irons were thrown, and the vessels literally lashed together.

"Away, boarders!"

"Hurrah, lads!"

The last shout came from bold young Grant Mackenzie, as sword in hand,
and followed by the men who had so bravely fought his guns, he sprang
nimbly across the bulwarks and leaped down amongst the foe. To describe
the _melee_ that followed would be impossible--the shouts of victory and
shrieks of pain, the cracking of pistols, the clashing of sword and
cutlass, the shivering of pikes, the rattle of musketry from the tops.
It was all like a terrible dream to every one concerned in it; for each
British sailor or marine seemed to fight but for himself. Then there
were the final stampede, the hauling down of the flag, and the surrender
of the wounded captain to Sir Sidney Salt. All must have passed in seven
minutes or less.

The loss on both sides was terrible to contemplate. Twenty of our brave
lads would never fight again, thirty more were wounded, while in killed
and wounded the enemy's loss was well-nigh one hundred.

There was no time to lose now, however. The enemy's consort was but five
or six miles off, and coming down hand over hand. So the Frenchmen were
speedily disarmed. The dead were left where they lay, the wounded and
prisoners hurried on board the _Pride_. Then a train was laid to the
_Desespere's_ magazine, and just as all sail was hoisted on board the
British frigate, the time fuse was lighted. The _Pride_ must fly now; to
fight another ship, lumbered as she was with wounded and prisoners,
would have been insanity.

On comes the enemy's consort. Away flies the _Ocean Pride_. The men on
the British ship still stand to their guns; for if they are overhauled,
they mean to fight and fall.

But see, the two French frigates are now abreast, and the consort hauls
her main-yard aback, and an armed boat leaves her side.

Nearer and nearer she rows. Those th