It was not long before their attention was awakened by the tapping of a cask of rum, which with many more had been washed out of the hold. This beverage presented a powerful attraction; the ship was soon, in some measure, deserted, and the mob concentrated like a swarm of wasps round the casks. All distinctions were now at an end; the better sort of farmer or shopkeeper, scrambled with the pauper for a cup or cap (or shoe) full of the mellow liquid; while the supercargo and his men, aided by myself and a few others, were occupied in hastily putting into some carts the more valuable articles rescued from plunder. As the parties had been immoderate in their potations, so the effects were equally speedy. Women lay on the sand, dead drunk, beside the booty they had collected, while unable to stir, it was snatched from their powerless grasp by others stronger or more sober than themselves. Several pitched battles were also taking place, both amongst boys and men, which generally terminated by each of the combatants falling prostrate martyrs to Bacchus. The infection was universal, and even the three "mounseers," the surviving crew of the Bonne Esperance, could not resist an occasional sly pull at the liquor. These men, though they had only just escaped sudden death, seemed not to be cast down; but with their characteristic agility, one minute assisted to roll the casks into carts, and then ran off perhaps to whisper a compliment to some pretty girl, shrugging up their shoulders at the unceremonious repulse they met with from _mademoiselle_.