the main and mizenmast, which he believed had been struck.

His son soon returned with a very bad report. The masts were already
badly wounded.

Soon after this the "Thisbe" got within musket-shot of the starboard
quarter of her opponent; and the marines opened their fire, while the
firing of the great guns became warmer than ever.

Captain Courtney had never, for a moment, taken his eye off the French
ship, that he might watch for the least indication of any manoeuvre she
might be about to perform. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Up with the helm!--
square away the after yards!"

Quickly the manoeuvre was executed, though only just in time to prevent
the enemy who wore the instant before, from crossing the "Thisbe's"
bows, and pouring in a raking fire. The two frigates now ran on before
the wind, closely engaged, broadside to broadside. Fast came the round
shot, crashing on board. Splinters from the torn bulwarks were flying
about, from aloft some rattling blocks and shattered spars; while
showers of bullets were raining down death and wounds in every
direction.

Ronald Morton felt his spirits rise to an unnatural pitch as the fight
grew hotter and hotter. Not the remotest thought of death, not a shadow
of fear crossed his mind. Others were struck down, but those missiles
of destruction were not for him. Others might be hit, but he bore a
charmed life.

There is something far more terrific and trying to the nerves in a night
action than in one fought by day. The dark, mysterious form of the
enemy, the flashes of the guns, the irregular glare, the dim light of
the fighting lanterns, the cries and groans of the wounded, the
uncertainty as to who is hit or what damage has been done, all combine
to produce an effect which the most desperate fight by day can scarcely
exhibit.

The crew of the "Thisbe" could see that their shot was producing great
effect on their antagonist. Her masts still stood, but several of her
spars were shot away, and her rigging appeared a mass of wreck. The
English frigate was also much injured aloft, but her masts were still
standing.

By this time the "Thisbe" had shot ahead of her antagonist. "Starboard
the helm!" exclaimed Captain Courtney. "Cease firing, my lads! Be
ready to give her a raking broadside as we cross her hawse."

The frigate luffed up into the wind; and, as she did so, her larboard
guns were discharged in quick succession into the bows of the Frenchman;
but amid