hot away several of the stays of the
jury-masts, knocked over three or four of the crew, and reduced the
frigate almost to the state of wreck in which she had been found when
captured.

Rawson was the only officer wounded, but still he cheered on the crew.

"We'll not give in lads! Old England for ever!" he exclaimed, putting
his right hand to a gun-tackle, and hauling away. The other arm had
been hit.

In vain were all the efforts of those gallant men.

"Here she comes!" was the cry. "Boarders! repel boarders!"

The enemy gave a sheer to port, and with a loud crash ran alongside the
"Concorde." Grappling-irons were hove aboard her and the next instant
the Frenchmen, in overpowering numbers, rushed like a torrent along her
decks.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE "THISBE'S" CREW PREPARE FOR A FRESH FIGHT.

The chief anxiety of Captain Courtney when he ascertained that the
approaching ship was an enemy, was to secure the escape of the prize.
She would indeed have been of very little use to the "Thisbe" in
repelling an attack, as the French frigate from having all her canvas
would have been able to manoeuvre so as to engage each of them singly.

"There she goes, and I'll engage Tom Calder's heart is heavier than any
one's aboard here at having to run away!" exclaimed Captain
Courtney--"Good luck go with him. We'll try and keep the enemy engaged,
and wing him, if we can. You'll do your best, I know, my lads."

A cheerful shout was the answer to this appeal, the last part of which
was addressed to the crew.

The men were now seen fastening their handkerchiefs round their heads,
tightening their waistbands, most of them having thrown off their
jackets and shirts, standing at their guns with their brawny arms and
shoulders bare, like pictures of Hercules prepared for battle; not a
countenance that did not exhibit a cheerful alacrity for the battle.

As the captain took a walk round the decks, he felt assured that what
men could do they would to maintain the honour of old England's flag.

Many bore marks of their recent combat, and several still pale from loss
of blood, had insisted on rising from their hammocks and going to their
guns. Among them stood the boatswain, Rolf Morton; the captain shook
his head at him.

"What! you could not trust us to fight the ship without you, Mr
Morton?" he said, in a kind tone of reproof. "I must let you stay now
you are on deck, but I would rather you were snug in your bert