ch the body?" exclaimed Surgeon
Sawyer, with much excitement.

"Oh, no!" said Patella, "that's only his way; he means, doubtless, that
it may be inspected previous to being taken ashore for burial."

The assemblage of gold-laced surgeons now ascended to the quarter-deck;
the second cutter was called away by the bugler, and, one by one, they
were dropped aboard of their respective ships.

The following evening the mess-mates of the top-man rowed his remains
ashore, and buried them in the ever-vernal Protestant cemetery, hard by
the Beach of the Flamingoes, in plain sight from the bay.

CHAPTER LXIV.

MAN-OF-WAR TROPHIES.

When the second cutter pulled about among the ships, dropping the
surgeons aboard the American men-of-war here and there--as a pilot-boat
distributes her pilots at the mouth of the harbour--she passed several
foreign frigates, two of which, an Englishman and a Frenchman, had
excited not a little remark on board the Neversink. These vessels often
loosed their sails and exercised yards simultaneously with ourselves,
as if desirous of comparing the respective efficiency of the crews.

When we were nearly ready for sea, the English frigate, weighing her
anchor, made all sail with the sea-breeze, and began showing off her
paces by gliding about among all the men-of-war in harbour, and
particularly by running down under the Neversink's stern. Every time
she drew near, we complimented her by lowering our ensign a little, and
invariably she courteously returned the salute. She was inviting us to
a sailing-match; and it was rumoured that, when we should leave the
bay, our Captain would have no objections to gratify her; for, be it
known, the Neversink was accounted the fleetest keeled craft sailing
under the American long-pennant. Perhaps this was the reason why the
stranger challenged us.

It may have been that a portion of our crew were the more anxious to
race with this frigate, from a little circumstance which a few of them
deemed rather galling. Not many cables'-length distant from our
Commodore's cabin lay the frigate President, with the red cross of St.
George flying from her peak. As its name imported, this fine craft was
an American born; but having been captured during the last war with
Britain, she now sailed the salt seas as a trophy.

Think of it, my gallant countrymen, one and all, down the sea-coast and
along the endless banks of the Ohio and Columbia--think of the twinges
we se