Harry Vernon sprang forward to meet his rival. Their swords crossed, and the crews seemed to involuntarily fall back, as though to give the men a chance to fight a duel. Vernon was in full vigor, and had not received a scratch. Blow was met by blow, and the two men fought as though the whole issue of the war depended upon their prowess. Presently one of the topmen, thinking that Vernon was in danger, fired, and a bullet crashed into the British captain's brain. But when the _Regina's_ crew saw their captain fall they fought more like demons than men. The battle was one of the fiercest waged during the war. The deck of the _Regina_ looked like a slaughterhouse, the dead bodies lay scattered in piles and singly. Every officer of the British ship was killed, and one of the crew, at last tired of the fight, took upon himself to strike the flag. His action was received with an uproarious shout of joy, in which some of the British joined. Both sides had suffered. The British lost three-fourths of her crew, while the _Lively Bee_ mourned the loss of Mr. Webster, the wounding of Scarron and four of the crew. Poor Webster had fought like a giant, and several times his sword had been whetted with British blood before he received his fatal wound. Scarron was badly wounded in the right thigh, and the surgeon of the _Regina_ declared that nothing but amputation could save his life. Beyond a little surface wound in his arm, Vernon escaped, while Tempest lost his little finger, which was shot away early in the strife. But very few thought of their wounds, for the prize was a rich one. The _Regina_ had on its manifest an entry for a cargo of tin plates. Now, at that time, tin was a valuable commodity, and the crew of the _Lively Bee_ felt that their fortunes were made. It was impossible to transfer such a heavy cargo, and so the _Regina_ had to be towed back to port. A small crew was placed in charge, commanded by Tempest, and included the powder-monkey, our old friend Bob. As Bob would not go without Scarron, and that old salt was in the hospital, otherwise the cockpit, of the _Regina_, Captain Vernon with very good grace allowed the powder-monkey to form part of the prize crew. Among the prisoners was a West Indian, who had been 'pressed, and had been a very reluctant sailor. He was a good seaman, an able pilot, and as clever a navigator as any that sailed the seas. In fact, he had at one time been master of a brig, but grog had been his ruin, and he was reduced to the ranks, and as man before the mast earned his living. Luiga, for such was the name he chose to go by, more, perhaps, because so few could pronounce it correctly, took a great fancy to Bob, and told him such yarns of the Southern seas as fairly turned his head. "When this war is over, I shall turn pirate," said Bob, "for I want to be rich." In Bob's experience, which was all obtained second-hand from yarns spun by the seamen, pirates were all wealthy.