“But as I was saying, it wasn’t long before we begun to make our carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot and heavy, the Lawrence taking the lead, engaging the Detroit, and every vessel as she came up, obeying orders and laying her enemy alongside, in right good arnest, except the Niagara. She hung back—damn her—with her jib brailed up, and her main-topsail to the mast—consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her opponent, avails herself of her distance—runs up close under the starn of the Detroit, and both ships pours in their combined fire into our ship the Lawrence. I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore during the action, and call his attention to the Niagara, and complain of her treacherous or cowardly conduct. Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy, and in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that we only aimed at the flashes of their guns, for we might as well have tried to trace a flock of ducks in the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their spars or hulls. I was working at one of the for’ard guns, and as after she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood waiting with the trigger lanyard in his finger, ready to pull, one of the officers calls out, ‘I say, sir, why don’t you fire?’ ‘I want to make her tell, sir,’ says the gunner,—‘I am waiting for their flash,—there it is’—and as he pulled trigger, a cannon shot came through the port, and dashed him to pieces between us, covering me and the officer all over with his brains. Their fire was awful; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest ships in the squadron pouring into us nigh on two hours without stopping. Our brig became a complete slaughter-house—the guns dismounted—carriages knocked to pieces—some of our ports knocked into one—hammock-netting shot clean away—iron stancheons twisted like wire—and a devilish deal more day-light than canvass in our bolt ropes—the wounded pouring down so fast into the cockpit, that the surgeons didn’t pretend to do more than apply tourniquets to stop the bleeding; and many of the men came back to the guns in that condition; while others was killed in the hands of the surgeons. One shot came through the cockpit, jist over the surgeon’s head, and killed midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with a tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a seaman who had already lost both arms. Our guns was nearly all dismounted; and finally, there was but one that could be brought to bear; and so completely was the crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at it with his own hands. The men became almost furious with despair, as they found themselves made the target for the whole squadron; and the wounded complained bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they lay dying on the decks, and in the cockpit. Two shots passed through the magazine—one knocked the lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the floor; and if