an, who unceremoniously seized me by the
arm in the very nick of time and quickly pulled me aside. As it was,
the bullet whistled close past my ear. This dastardly act so
exasperated our people that forthwith, without waiting for orders, they
poured the whole of our port broadside into the devoted craft,
completely demolishing her stern, so that for a few seconds, as we drew
slowly athwart her wake, we got a full view of her decks, which were
cumbered with killed and wounded, and literally streaming with blood.
Still, by a miracle, Morillo himself survived this last destructive
broadside of ours; for when the smoke blew away I saw him still standing
erect and shaking his fist defiantly at us.

It was by this time evident to us all that the _Guerrilla_ was a doomed
ship; she was settling fast in the water, and to continue firing upon
her would only be a waste of ammunition. We therefore filled our
topsail and, a few minutes later, tacked, again getting a broadside from
the sinking ship, when we stationed ourselves square athwart her bows--
where we were pretty well out of the way of her fire--and, with topsail
aback and mainsheet eased off, waited patiently for the final moment,
which we saw was rapidly approaching. Yet, even now, Morillo persisted
in firing at us with his two bow guns, compelling us to fire upon him in
return; and so the useless fight went on, until the _Guerrilla_ had
settled so low in the water that the sea welled in over her bows at
every plunge of her, rendering it impossible to any longer maintain
their fire. Then, with folded hands, we all stood by, watching for the
end.

And a very melancholy picture it was upon which we looked. There was
the illimitable expanse of ocean all round us, blue as sapphire, heaving
in long, regular ridges of swell, and whipped into foam here and there
by the scourging of the strong trade wind, with a rich blue sky above,
dappled with wisps of trade-cloud, and the sun shining brilliantly down
from the midst of them, causing the heaving waters to flash and glitter
under his fiery beams, so that the sea that way was too dazzling to look
at. And there, right in the centre of the glowing picture, lay the two
brigantines--we with our bulwarks torn and splintered to pieces, our
sails riddled with shot-holes, our rigging badly cut up, and our decks
scored with shot-marks and littered with dead and wounded men; while the
_Guerrilla_ was an even more melancholy wreck th