emy, I suspect there would not be found the
difference of half a dozen between us. All depends on the way our ships
are manoeuvred, and how we fight our guns,--though I've no fear on that
score."

It was soon evident that Captain Macnamara intended to fight, and the
order was given to clear the ship for action. The drum beat to
quarters. All hands went about their duties with alacrity. I was sent
down into the cockpit with a message. There I found the surgeons making
their preparations; with their tourniquets, saws, knives, and other
instruments, arranged ready for the expected operations; and there were
buckets, and bowls of water, and sponges, and various other things
likely to be required. In the centre was the amputating table, on
which, before long, some poor fellow would probably be stretched, to be
deprived of a leg or an arm; while an odour of vinegar pervaded the
place.

The powder magazine had been opened. The gunner and his mates were
engaged in serving out the ammunition, which the powder-monkeys were
carrying up on deck in their tubs. Cutlasses were girded on, and
pistols stuck in belts. Boarding pikes were arranged so as to be easily
seized if wanted. The men, hurrying to their respective guns, loaded
and ran them out; and as I passed along the decks I remarked their
countenances all exhibiting their eagerness for the fight.

Among them I observed Hoolan, who had been stationed at a gun. He was
apparently as ready to fight as any one on board. His features were as
stern and morose as ever, but there was a fire in his eye, which showed
that he contemplated the approaching battle with more pleasure than
fear. Judging from the look of the men captured with him, I couldn't
say the same of them. The crew generally were full of life and spirits,
laughing and joking, as if they had forgotten altogether that in a short
time they would be engaged in a fierce fight. I found Larry at his gun,
looking as pleased as if he were at a wake or a wedding.

"Shure we'll be after making this fellow bark, Maisther Terence," he
said, slapping the breach. "If the old chap doesn't drill a hole in the
side of one of those ships out there, or knock away one of their masts,
say I'm not a Tipperary boy."

His remark produced a laugh among the seamen within hearing,--indeed
they evidently thought that whatever Larry said ought to be considered
as a good joke. Larry seemed to have a notion that his especial gun wa