The twenty-fifth of _August_ we lay a try with main course, and mizen our Drift _North_ 9 Leagues, the wind at _South west_, a fresh Gale. One of our men taking our main Top-sail, cryed out a Sail, a Sail. In a quarter of an hour by the help of my Prospective, I could discern her to be an Enemy of considerable force, about some forty four pieces of Ordinance. She made towards us with all the speed she could, and we to shorted our way, bore up to her with all the Sail we could make, so that we fetch’t up one the other quickly although we had but thirty six Guns, eight less than she carry’d, and having fewer men withal we feared her not, but ran up board and board with her before we fir’d a Gun, and then we poured in a whole broad-side into her, whilst we pepper’d them above with whole Vollies of small shot: they returned us the like kindness, which kill’d us four outright besides what were wounded. Our Captain behav’d himself very manfully, and so bestirr’d himself in the fight, shewing so clear a courage as would have animated a very Coward to fight, as for my own part the meer observation of his magnanimous behaviour, infus’d into me more valour than I thought my self capable to contain, or able to make use of: my Land-water Soldiers, the Scrivener and his two Companions, by the Captains example, and my encouraging, look’d Death as boldly, and as daringly in the face, as if they had intended to look him out of countenance, though at first no shot, either great or small went whistling by them but what made them dap their heads, as if that would secure them; that Bullet which injures man never tattles in his ear the ensuing danger; that Bullet that whistles in the Air, proclames your crown as safe from cracking, as is the Goose after she hath past through the Barn door stooping lest her lofty head should knock the top thereof.