Steering straight for the largest vessel, though already considerably damaged aloft by the fire of the others, Walker delivered his broadside, and then the enemy got round him, two on either side, one ahead and one astern; the other two apparently decamped, and took no part in the action. The ship astern, after attempting to rake the _Boscawen_, was so roughly handled by her stern guns that she hauled off, and struck her colours. The fight was continued with the remaining five for the space of an hour; and the writer asserts that it was maintained on board the _Boscawen_ without any confusion or disorder, the men, under the officers' orders, banging away at whatever happened to be in front of their guns, "without fear or thought for the others." The flagship struck, and sank ten minutes later; the remaining four stuck to it, hoping yet to subdue the sorely battered _Boscawen_; but Walker's men remembered his pledge to them, and were resolved that he should not be stultified. In another half-hour every flag was down, and the _Sheerness_, at length coming up, chased and captured one of the runaways; so the "bag" was one sunk and six captured. The enemy is stated to have had 113 killed and drowned, while the _Boscawen's_ casualties amounted only to one killed and seven wounded. The writer ascribes this comparative immunity to a protection, a raised bulwark, "man-high," of elm planking, which Walker had caused to be erected, with a step on which the marines could mount to fire, and stand down to load; and he says the elm did not splinter, but kept out bullets, and closed up round the holes made by shot. With due allowance for this, however, the Frenchmen must have made very wretched practice; they were probably unpractised and undisciplined merchant crews; but it was a brilliant affair. The vessels were all homeward bound "Martinico men," as Walker had surmised, provided with letters of marque.