the French ship's lowermost head, these two individuals commenced a system of warfare after their own fashion, which was not only very galling, but also very destructive to the enemy, fighting upon the Brillante's deck below them; for just as young Boyson and his accomplice had taken their position aloft, the battle was raging at its very hottest pitch.

It so happened that upon the Brillante's forecastle, there was standing a very large and open cask of musket cartridges, for the use of the French marines, and small arm men stationed there. We have before observed that just as the first man was about to apply the lighted torch to the carronade, when Captain Dalrymple was leading on his forlorn hope to attack the enemy's strong hold in that part of their ship he, (the Frenchman) was shot by a rifle from the maintop. This was the act of the English midshipman, Mr. Boyson, who had his eye upon all that was going on below. But the next shot from the French ship's maintop, which killed the second man who had just at that same instant fired the priming of the thirty-two pound carronade, was the act of the man, Saunders, who was with him. As soon as the Frenchman last named had received his death wound, he fell back and in his dying agony threw the lighted torch up in the air, which, in its descent alighted upon the cask of musket cartridges and caused them to ignite. This was the cause of the dreadful explosion we alluded to a few pages back, and it was this blowing up of ammunition that did more execution amongst the enemy in a few seconds, than all that Captain Dalrymple and his brave followers had accomplished throughout the engagement. There were to be seen headless trunks and mutilated limbs flying

W

about in all directions. A dreadful massacre it was to look upon. Truly was the man Saunders's vow of revenge most fully accomplished. When the smoke ariseing from the explosion had partially cleared off, the ensign of old England was to be seen hoisted at the Brillante's main royal mast-head, proudly flaunting in graceful folds over the sullied white flag of France, which was once more not only stained in color but also in reputation. At the top gallant mast-head just beneath the lower ensign and with one arm folded round the spar, stood the midshipman, young John Boyson, gallantly waving his hat in the air as he triumphantly sung with a loud and audible voice that song which strikes home to the heart of every Englishman on account of its beauty, nationality, and the spirit of valiant enthusiasm which it ever excites, viz., "Rule Britannia," &c.*

We will now cast a veil over this scene of horror and bloodshed, and draw our present long chapter to a close.

* For a more particular account of this engagement we beg to refer our readers to James's Naval History.

CHAPTER V.

THE PURSER.

Was there ever seen such villany,

So neatly plotted, and so well performed,

Both held in hand, and flatly both beguiled?"

JEW OF MALTA.

"This is a long description, but applies
To scarce five minutes past before the eyes."

BYRON.

THE engagement, which forms the closing scene of the last chapter our reader anticipates, terminated favourably for our countrymen, and added another bright laurel to the naval glory of old England. Not many days afterwards the Sea Nymph arrived safely into port with her vanquished prize.

Lieutenant Oliver, who it will be remembered received a musket shot through the foot on the first attempt being made to board the enemy, was so disabled in consequence of the obstinacy of the wound, that he was obliged to request leave of absence for a while from his professional duties. The request being complied with, he embarked on board a small craft bound for one of the neighbouring colonies, for the purpose of visiting some friends of his family, who resided there. Our hero and Old Grant, although not quite restored to perfect convalescence from their wounds and stunning effects of the concussion, caused by the explosion which took place so near to them, were still sufficiently so to attend to their separate duties

on board. Captain Dalrymple and his officers having received the compliments of the Admiral for the splendid victory they had achieved, and the frigate having been reported ready for sea again, she was once more despatched on a cruize.

Several weeks elapsed, and nothing of any particular importance, save and except the encountering a violent squall or two, occurred on board the Sea Nymph, until she arrived in the bay of Tortola, where she had anchored for the purpose of taking in fresh provisions for the crew. On this same island Mr. Oliver had resided, during his furlough, with a Colonel Nesbit, to whose deceased lady he was a distant relation.

The dawn after the frigate's arrival was ushered in with that beautifully bright and cloudless sky so peculiar to the Indian climate. The hands were below, listlessly reclining upon their chests and rationless mess tables, in momentary expectation of being summoned from their morning's meal by the Boatswain's shrill pipe; when Mr. Rouseabout made his appearance on deck.

"Have the people had their time, Garratt?" asked the latter.

"They have sir," answered the newly appointed Boatswain, respectfully tipping his hat-"shall I call them up sir?"

"Call all hands, Mr. Garratt, we'll set the rigging up fore and aft. That last squall has very much eased those new shrouds, I see, begin with them first; and pass the word for the first cutters to prepare themselves to go on shore."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The last order of the first Lieutenant had scarely been passed along the lower deck, when a most violent up

roar of many voices in dispute, intermingled with angry exclamations, sounds of tumbling, smashing of crockery, the clattering of pewter plates, and various other noises denoting a desperate quarrel between several combatants was heard to proceed therefrom.

"What's the row below there?" shouted the man in authority down the after-hatchway, in a voice that caused instant silence to prevail." What's all that quarrelling about there, Master-at-Arms, do they mean heaving the ship overboard?"

"There's a mutiny in the young gentlemen's mess berth, sir," answered the man addressed, with his head peeping over the comings of the hatch.

"Who are the mutineers ?

"Mister Strachan and Mister Reckless are the two principals, but I believe all the members of the mess are lending a hand in the affray, sir."

"Tell Mr. Strachan and Mr. Reckless to come upon deck to me instantly, I'll have no more of these disturbances."

The two delinquents soon appeared before their superior. Blood was streaming down the face of the older one, from a severe cut on the head, obtained by the aforesaid head happening to come in contact with a soup tureen. The younger midshipman had one eye bound up in a black silk handkerchief, and his left arm hung in a sling from his neck.

"How's this, young gentlemen-what's the meaning of these disgraceful wounds, Mr. Strachan? It's a pity you cannot bottle up your mad blood until you have occasion to shed it in a more honourable cause.

"Mr. Reckless, sir," commenced the senior,"Mr. Strachan, if you please sir," interrupted the