The boarders from the first small boat fastened to the mizzen channels, and, as they did so, Johnson dropped a mass of iron weighing two hundred pounds into the boat’s bottom, tearing her open. She filled at once and sank before the men could climb aboard. Benson, though desperately wounded from my knife, managed to get hauled back aboard by willing hands. He joined the crowd aft, and, holding to the taffrail for support, fired a double-barrelled gun with deadly effect into the approaching boats. A sailor fired at him with a rifle, and the bullet tore a hole through his chest, but he staggered back to his place at the rail and fought on. Two of the best, or rather worst, men in the gang used cutlasses with effect upon the men who crowded over the rail in the waist. An officer engaged one of these in single combat and for a short time there was a bit of sword-play. Then a sailor coming in from the starboard side smote the villain over the head with his cutlass butt and stretched him out for further orders. Benson rallied the few followers aft, and together they forced a passage along that deck, with himself and Johnson leading. They joined the mass of men forward and crowded under the topgallant forecastle for a last stand. Within the slanting peak of the ship, and covered from attack above, they fought with a desperation that called forth all that was in the crew of the man-of-war. An officer led a charge upon the huddled villains, and fired again and again into their leader, who received no less than five bullet-wounds, any one of which would have let the life out of an ordinary man. But Benson still fought on. The convicts, being badly armed and improperly drilled, fought at a disadvantage. The ranking officer of the boat crews formed his men in line behind those fighting in the press and then called a retreat. The advanced men fell slowly back, and the convicts were loth to follow and leave their shelter. Then the sailors fired a volley point-blank into the crowd. This was more than the ordinary man could stand, and many wounded threw down their arms and came out to surrender. But not Benson. The leader, seeing that there was no hope, hurled his empty gun at the men in uniform. Then he seized a cutlass, and walked staggering and swaying toward the line of levelled rifles. One or two men fired and a bullet hit him upon the head, passing through and flinging him half-way around. He fell upon his hands and knees, but tried to raise himself, a ghastly sight. Three or four times he almost staggered to his feet, blinded, half-insensible, and dying, and then a man mercifully struck him upon the neck with his cutlass. His fight was over.