the brig, under pretense of sounding, trying to get close enough
to make a rush and board her. The privateersmen were on their
guard, and warned the boats off, and after the warning had been
repeated once or twice unheeded, they fired into them, killing
and wounding several men. Upon this the boats promptly returned
to the ships.

This first check greatly irritated the British captains, and they
decided to repeat the experiment that night with a force which
would render resistance vain. Accordingly, after it became dark,
a dozen boats were sent from the liner and the frigate, manned by
four hundred stalwart British seamen, and commanded by the
captain of one of the brigs of war. Through the night they rowed
straight toward the little privateer lying dark and motionless in
the gloom. As before, the privateersmen were ready for their foe,
and when they came within range opened fire upon them, first with
the long gun and then with the lighter cannon; but the British
rowed on with steady strokes, for they were seamen accustomed to
victory over every European foe, and danger had no terrors for
them. With fierce hurrahs they dashed through the shot-riven
smoke and grappled the brig; and the boarders rose, cutlas in
hand, ready to spring over the bulwarks. A terrible struggle
followed. The British hacked at the boarding-nets and strove to
force their way through to the decks of the privateer, while the
Americans stabbed the assailants with their long pikes and
slashed at them with their cutlases. The darkness was lit by the
flashes of flame from the muskets and the cannon, and the air was
rent by the oaths and shouts of the combatants, the heavy
trampling on the decks, the groans of the wounded, the din of
weapon meeting weapon, and all the savage tumult of a