She had hitherto been to windward of the frigate, she now bore away, with the evident intention of crossing her bows, when the wind, suddenly shifting, threw her all aback. The Euphrasia shortly after came up with her, upon which, seeing no further chance of escape, she slackened sail and fell almost alongside. While the crew of the Euphrasia were busily engaged taking in their sails, Fitz-Ullin, who was looking out for the lowering of the privateer’s colours, observed some of her men pointing a long twenty-four pounder, which was placed in the centre of their deck, and which appeared to turn on a pivot. At first, he could scarcely believe that so useless a piece of cruelty could be intended; seeing them, however, actually about to apply the match, he ordered the small armed party of marines to fire a volley into the midst of them. In a moment, the fellows who had been employed about the gun were swept away. This destructive piece of ordnance was afterwards found to be loaded with buck shot, old nails, and crooked pieces of iron. Had it been discharged from so short a distance, on the, just then, necessarily crowded decks of the frigate, the havoc must have been dreadful. The privateer was now boarded, and her Captain found to be too ill to leave his berth. This circumstance, however, was not attended with any inconvenience, as it would have been necessary, at any rate, to leave the Captain in the prize, to facilitate her condemnation. The rest of the crew, with the exception of one black, for whose attendance the sick Captain sent an urgent petition, were taken on board the Euphrasia, and a proper complement of her men sent into the prize, with a midshipman as prize master. By the time, however, that these necessary arrangements were completed, the aspect of the weather changed so much, that Fitz-Ullin judged it not prudent, under the possible circumstances, to entrust so considerable a prize to the care of a midshipman. Accordingly, at about ten o’clock at night, he sent Henry on board, with orders to take the command, and forthwith sail for Plymouth. Henry finding from the midshipman whom he relieved, that every needful preparation was already made, went immediately to his cabin. He saw neither the sick captain nor his black, the first never having quitted his berth, and the second having retired to his, two hours before, neither having any thing to do with the business of the ship. The breeze was brisk, and soon parted them many miles from the Euphrasia. Henry had, as usual, heated his blood with wine at supper, and in consequence lay tossing and restless. At length, however, about twelve o’clock, he fell into a perturbed slumber. Shortly after, he dreamed that he heard his cabin-door open softly. He started awake, and, notwithstanding the utter darkness, was sensible that something moved, though noiselessly, towards him.