Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
Although for the first half-hour I gained little information, after that
time had elapsed I knew what was going on. I heard a voice hailing us
from another vessel, and the reply of the Stella was a broadside. There
could be no mistake in that. The Stella was then put about, and the
other broadside given without a return from her opponent. At last it
came, and as the shot whizzed over or tore up the planking of the
gunwales, I certainly did feel very strangely. I had never been in
action before, and the sensation was, I confess, that of alarm; but it
was so mingled with curiosity as to what was going on, that it was
impossible to say what my feelings were. I longed to be on deck, and
certainly would have been, if I had thought that I was safe with the
pirate crew: that alone prevented me; I remained, therefore, in a most
unpleasant state of ignorance and suspense.
The broadsides were now exchanged rapidly and the wounded, brought down
between decks every minute, told me that the action was severe. The
orders of the negro captain were occasionally heard--they were cool and
determined. Every minute some fresh manoeuvre was executed, and the
guns still worked as if there was nothing else to attend to. At last,
the daylight came down the hatchway, and I left the cabin and walked
forward between decks; I found the deck strewed with wounded and dying
men, calling for water. I was glad to be able to do something which I
could consistently do, and I brought water from the cask and gave it to
them, one after another, as fast as I could; I think there were at least
thirty men lying about the lower deck, some in pools of their own blood,
and sinking fast, for there was no surgeon on board of the Stella.
Some more wounded men were brought down, and a conversation took place
between one of the mates of the schooner, who was hurt, and the men who
brought down the wounded, and listening to them, I found that at
daylight they had discovered that an English frigate was under all sail,
beating up to them, and about five miles to leeward; that in
consequence, the Stella was now carrying on a running fight with the
schooner (who was to windward of her), and trying to escape. This
accounted for the signals which I had perceived that the English
schooner was making the evening before. My anxiety at this intelligence
was naturally much increased. The Stella was trying to escape, and her
sailing powers were so remarkable, that I was afraid she would succeed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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