er whether he intends to give in at all!" said Mr Edwards as we
prepared to pour another broadside into him.

"Not a bit of it; he has as much pluck as at the first left in him,"
exclaimed O'Driscoll, as the thunder of our artillery once more ceased.

I could not help longing that, for the sake of the lives of his people,
the French captain would give in. The action had now lasted from a
quarter to eight to half-past eight. Of course the time appeared very
much longer. The Bienfaisant was about to pour in another of her
broadsides which had already produced such fearful effects. The deck of
the Frenchman was truly a shamble; not a spot appeared free from some
dead or wounded occupant. Just then the crew, fearful of encountering
another iron shower, fled from their guns. Down came the Fleur-de-lys
of France. Shouts arose from the deck of the Bienfaisant, which were
loudly and joyfully echoed from ours. All three ships were now hove-to.
On hailing our prize we found that we had captured "Le Compte
D'Artois," a private ship of war of sixty-four guns and seven hundred
and fifty men, commanded by Monsieur Clenard.

A boat from each ship was sent on board. I went in the Charon's. The
brave captain of the Compte D'Artois came forward and delivered his
sword to the lieutenant of the Bienfaisant. He was desperately wounded
in the mouth, and he looked very sad; he had reason so to be, for his
brother, a colonel of the Legion of Artois, lay dead on the deck, having
been wounded early in the action, while he had lost no less than one
hundred and nineteen killed and wounded of his brave crew. All his
property, too, had probably been embarked in the enterprise. Many other
people in the same way lost their fortunes during the war. They thought
that they had only to fit out a ship of war and that they were certain
to gain great wealth. They forgot that two might play at the same game,
and that they were just as likely to fall into the hands of their
enemies as to capture them. Poor monsieur had another brother on board.
I did not exaggerate when I said that the deck of his ship was like a
perfect shamble. So quickly had the poor Frenchmen been struck down
that the survivors had not had time to carry them below, and there they
lay, some stark and stiff, others writhing in their agony. It was
enough to move the compassion even of their greatest enemies. We at
once set to work to do all we could to help them and to rel