e to guard the
hatchways, the remaining twelve, divided into four parties, began to
mount both fore and main-rigging, to windward and to leeward, at the
same time. The fate of Jerry and Seymour now appeared to be decided.
They might each kill one man more, and then would have been hurled into
the sea. But during the consultation, Seymour, who anticipated this
movement, and had a knife in his pocket, divided the lanyards of the lee
topmast rigging, and running up the weather side with his musket and
ammunition, as soon as he had gained the topmast cross-trees, hauled up
the lee rigging after him; thus gaining a position that would admit but
one person mounting up to him at a time. He called to Jerry, pointing
out what he had done, that he might do the same; but unfortunately Jerry
had not a knife, and could not. He contented himself with climbing up
to the topmast cross-trees, to which he was followed by two of the
Frenchmen. Jerry levelled his musket, and passed his bullet through the
skull of one of his pursuers, whose heavy fall on the deck shook the
schooner fore and aft: and then, aware that nothing more could be done,
pitched his musket overboard, that they might not gain possession of it,
and climbing, with a nimbleness suited to the occasion, up to the
masthead, descended by the top-gallant stay, to the fore-topmast
cross-trees, and joined Seymour, in the presence of the exasperated
Frenchmen, who now, unable to reach either of them, were at a nonplus.
"I say, monsieur, no catchee, no habbee," cried Jerry, laughing, and
putting his hand to his side from loss of breath.

But we must now acquaint the reader with what is going on below. The
surprise of Courtenay when he found the hatches down, and the deck in
possession of the French, was removed when the men who had been secured
with him stated that, as they lay in their hammocks, they had been
awakened by a large body of men running up the hatchway. He now
perceived that there must have been men concealed in the hold of the
vessel. The struggle on deck, the splashing in the water, all had been
plainly heard below; they were aware of the fate of their shipmates, and
did not expect to see daylight again until they were handed up as
prisoners in a French port.

The feelings of Courtenay were not enviable. He upbraided himself for
having, by his want of prudence, lost the vessel, and sacrificed the
lives of the two midshipmen and five seamen who had the watc