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 288 CORY

Her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to

spread more sail. On canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets came

like hail.

Sore smitten were both captains, and many lads beside, And still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried. A sail-clad spar came napping down athwart a blazing

gun; We could not quench the rushing flames, and so the

Frenchman won.

Our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all

aglow; Men hung upon the taffrail half scorched, but loth

to go; Our captain sat where once he stood, and would not

quit his chair. He bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him

bleeding there.

The guns were hushed on either side, the Frenchmen

lowered boats, They flung us planks and hencoops, and everything

that floats. They risked their lives, good fellows ! to bring their

rivals aid. 'Twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely

made.

La Surveillante was like a sieve ; the victors had no rest. They had to dodge the east wind to reach the port of Brest.

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