t:--so they continued to fire as directed, until they are
either sent down to the cock-pit themselves, or have a momentary respite
from their exertions, when, choked with smoke and gunpowder, they go aft
to the scuttle-butt, to remove their parching thirst. So much for the
lower and main deck. We will now ascend to the quarter-deck, where we
shall find old Adams at the conn, and little Willy standing behind him.

The smoke is not so thick here, but that you may perceive the commodore
on the poop, walking a step or two to star-board, and then turning short
round to port. He is looking anxiously through his glass at the
position of the troops, who are ashore to storm the batteries, hoping to
see a diversion in our favour made by them, as the affair becomes
serious. By a singular coincidence, the commandant of the troops on
shore is, with his telescope, looking anxiously at the shipping, hoping
the same thing from the exertions of the navy. The captain of marines
lies dead upon the poop; both his legs have been shot off by a spent
shot--he is left there, as no surgeon can help him; and there are two
signalmen lying dead alongside him.

On the hammock-nettings of the quarter-deck stands the acting captain of
the ship, erect, and proud in bearing, with an eye of defiance and scorn
as he turns towards the enemy. His advice was disregarded; but he does
his duty proudly and cheerfully. He is as cool and unconcerned as if he
were watching the flying fish as they rise from the bows of the ship,
when running down the tropics, instead of the enemy's shot, as they
splash in the water alongside, or tear open the timbers of the vessel,
and the bodies of his crew. The men still ply their half-manned guns;
but they are exhausted with fatigue, and the bloody deck proves that
many have been dismissed from their duty. The first-lieutenant is
missing; you will find him in the cock-pit--they have just finished
taking up the arteries of his right arm, which has been amputated; and
the Scotch surgeon's assistant, who for many months bewailed the want of
practice, and who, for having openly expressed his wishes on that
subject, had received a sound thrashing from the exasperated midshipmen,
is now complimenting the fainting man upon the excellent stump that they
have made for him: while fifty others, dying or wounded, with as much
variety as Homer's heroes, whose blood, trickling from them in several
rivulets, pours into one general la