“'We cannot; the space between decks is crowded to suffocation. But here she comes.' And, as he spoke, the frigate came bearing down in gallant style, her whole deck swarming with men. “'Down, men, down!' whispered the lieutenant, and he dropped on his knee behind the bulwark, and motioned to the rest to kneel. And I now perceived that every sailor had a drawn cutlass in his hand and pistols in his belt, as he lay crouching on the deck. “The frigate was now so close, I could hear the commands of the officers on the quarterdeck, and the words 'Bas les branles'--the signal to board--passed from mouth to mouth. The next instant, she closed on us, and showed her tall sides towering above us. “'Now, men!' cried the commander of the 'Fawn,' 'now, forward! 'All who care to live, there's your ground,' said he, pointing to the frigate. 'Such as like to die on a British deck, remain with me.' The boarders sprang up the side of the 'Créole' before the crew could fasten the grapples. _Tonnerre de Dieu!_ what a moment it was! The fellows cheered like madmen, as they poured in to certain death; the lieutenant himself was one of the first on board, and fell back the same instant, dead upon his own deck. The struggle was a bloody but brief one; for a few minutes the English pressed our men back, and gained a footing on the quarterdeck, but a murderous fire from the tops cut them down in numbers, and they now fought, not for victory, but vengeance. “'Now, Captain, now!' screamed a youth, in a lieutenant's uniform, but all covered with blood, and his face gashed with a cutlass-wound, as he leaned over the bulwark of the 'Créole,' and waved his cap in the air. “'I'm ready,' replied the English commander, and sprang down the main hatchway as he spoke, with a pistol in his hand. At the same instant, a fearful cry burst forth from the prisoners; for, with the instinct of despair, they guessed his desperate resolve was to blow up the vessel. We were tied, wrist to wrist, and the rope run through the blocks at our back in such a way as to prevent our moving more than a few inches. But what will not the fear of a dreadful death do? With one unanimous effort we tore the lashings in pieces, and got free. I was myself the first at liberty, and sprang towards the 'Creole.' Alas! they had divined the awful doom awaiting us, and were endeavoring to shove off at once. Already there were some ten or twelve feet between the vessels. I rushed forward to gain the bowsprit, a vague hope of escape suggesting the effort. As I did so, my eyes caught sight of a book, which, with his hat, the captain threw from him as he hastened below. I stooped down and put it in my bosom,--why, I know not. Life, and life only, was my thought at that moment. Then, with lightning's speed, I ran along the deck, and out on the bowsprit.