"You have done your duty, Mr Pearce, and I thank you for it; but I have also my duties to perform. One of them is, not to allow the lives of one ship's company, however brave and well-disciplined (and such I must allow to be the one I have the honour to command), to interfere with the general interests of the country we contend for. When a man enters His Majesty's service, his life is no longer to be considered his own; it belongs to his king and country, and is at their disposal. If we are lost, there will be no great difficulty in collecting another ship's company in old England, as brave and as good as this. Officers as experienced are anxiously waiting for employment; and the Admiralty will have no trouble in selecting and appointing as good, if not a better captain." The contending ships were now about two cables' length from each other, with a high rocky coast, lashed with a tremendous surf, about three-quarters of a mile to leeward. The promontory extended about two points on the weatherbow of the frigate, and a low sandy tongue of land spread itself far out on her weather quarter, so that both vessels were completely embayed. The line-of-battle ship again made an attempt to get up some after-sail; but the well-directed fire of the frigate, whenever she rose on the tops of the mountainous waves, which at intervals hid the hulls of both vessels from each other, drove the Frenchmen from their task of safety, and it was now evident that all command of her was lost. She rolled gunwale under, and her remaining mast went by the board. "Nothing can save her, now, sir," replied the master. "No," replied the captain. "We have done our work, and must now try to save ourselves." "Secure the guns--be smart, my lads, you work for your lives. We must put the mainsail on her, Mr Pearce, and draw off if we can." The master shook his head. "Hands by the clue-garnets and buntlines-- man the mainsheet--let go those leech-lines, youngster--haul aboard." "It's a pity, too, by God," said the captain, looking over the hammock-rails at the French vessel, which was now running before the wind right on to the shore.--"Eight or nine hundred poor devils will be called to their last account in the course of a few minutes. I wish we could save them." "You should have thought of that before, sir," said the master, with a grave smile at this reaction of feeling on the part of the captain. "Nothing can save them, and I am afraid that nothing but a slant of wind or a miracle can help ourselves." "She has struck, sir, and is over on her broadside," said the quarter-master, who was standing on the carronade slide. "Mind your conn, sir; keep your eyes on the weather-leech of the sail, and not upon that ship," answered the captain, with asperity.