of the Hussar could not help watching the
progress of the fight with the greatest anxiety. Already two of her
top-masts had been shot away, her lower-masts were wounded, and five or
six of her crew lay dead, while as many more were hurt. Still he had
determined not to give in as long as his ship would float. The
Frenchmen had already suffered severely, but it was impossible to say
how long their endurance might last. He had no doubt that they had lost
far more in killed and wounded than he had, and he saw that they had
some shot between wind and water, and that their rigging was much cut
up. All this gave him hopes that he might yet come off victorious.
Again he ranged up alongside his big antagonist and received her fire
while he delivered his own. Down came his mizen-top-mast by the run--
several more of his crew fell to the deck--his rigging hung in
festoons--his canvas was full of shot-holes. He thought to himself,
"Ought I to sacrifice the lives of my people in a hopeless contest? But
is it hopeless? No, it is not. Hurrah, my brave fellows! One
broadside more, and we shall do for the enemy!" he shouted loudly. The
combatants were standing on a bow-line alongside each other. Once more
the Hussar fired. The Frenchman returned her broadside, and then,
before the smoke cleared off and the English had time to reload to rake
her, put up her helm and ran off before the wind. The Hussar was not in
a condition to follow. She, however, kept firing at the Frenchman as
long as her shot could reach him, and then hauled her wind and stood
away to the westward after us. She had seven killed and six badly
wounded, besides other hurts. She had lost her three top-masts, while
her lower-masts were disabled. Fortunately the weather was fine, for
had she encountered a gale of wind her condition would have been bad
indeed. I have never, as I have said, seen an account of this very
gallant action in any naval history, and I therefore give it as it was
described to me by the officers of the Hussar.

On the 14th of October we arrived off Charleston, South Carolina, with
our whole convoy, after a favourable passage of nine weeks, and we were
congratulating ourselves on its successful termination, little thinking
what was to be the fate of many of the ships of the fleet. Charleston
stands on a broad neck of land, with Cooper's river on one side and
Ashley river on the other. They flow into a wide sheet of water, which