The schooner was now put about, and sailing round and round the brig, out of the reach of her short guns, opened upon her a murderous fire from the long eighteen, and had shot away all her spars but the stump of the fore-mast, and was about boarding her; for the brig, with the stubborn determination of a bull-dog, returned gun for gun, in defiance, though her shot all fell short, and refused to surrender, notwithstanding she was likely to be riddled and sunk—for every ball from the schooner crashed through her bulwarks, or lodged in her hull. So interested had the crew of the slaver been in watching the effect of their fire, that the schooner’s head had been directed toward the brig, and the boarders had been called away, before they discovered, not a mile distant, a large ship dead to windward, bearing down upon them, hand over hand, with studding-sails set alow and aloft on both sides. Her character was not to be mistaken—she was a large first-class sloop-of-war; and the Maraposa, thus compelled to leave her prey, just as it was about to fall in her grasp, fired one more gun, by way of salute, and running up to her main-truck a large white burgee, with “Willis” on it, in conspicuous blue letters, to let her antagonist know to whom she was indebted, crowded all sail and stood away on her former course. Willis’s sole motive for having thus attacked a much larger vessel than his own, and the capture of which would have been no profit to him, was to be revenged on her captain, whom he knew to be the same officer that had spoken of him in such disparaging terms at the ball, where, in the character of a young American gentleman, visiting the island for pleasure, he had been compelled inactively to listen to himself most mercilessly berated. This, to a mind like Willis’s, was a wrong never to be forgotten. Born of a good family, though in straitened circumstances, well educated, and of naturally fine feelings, he had in his youth become dissipated, and the ardor of his temperament had for awhile forced him to great lengths in vice; but soon seeing the folly of his course, he determined entirely to reform his life and become a steady, industrious man; but when he informed his relations and friends of his resolution, and asked their countenance and assistance to reinstate him in his former position, he was met with sneers of incredulity, and unkindly told that as he had “sown to the wind, he might now reap the whirlwind.” Knowing himself to be possessed of talents, energy, and perseverance, his pride and self-love were keenly stung, and feeling perfectly disgusted with the want of charity, thus displayed by those who professed to be the “salt of the earth,” and believing them to be as wicked as himself, only gifted with more hypocrisy, and chagrined with all the world, he gave himself up entirely to the guidance of his passions.