“Let them have it!” he shouted, in a clear animating voice, that assured the people of his presence and his care.  “Show them the humor of an Englishman’s sleep, my lads!  Speak to them, tops and decks!”

The order was obeyed.  The remaining bow-gun was fired, and the discharge of all the Coquette’s musketry and blunderbusses followed.  A crowd of boats came sweeping under the bowsprit of the ship at the same moment, and then arose the clamor and shouts of the boarders.

The succeeding minutes were full of confusion, and of devoted exertion.  Twice were the head and bowsprit of the ship filled with dark groups of men, whose grim visages were only visible by the pistol’s flash, and as often were they cleared by the pike and bayonet.  A third effort was more successful, and the tread of the assailants was heard on the deck of the forecastle.  The struggle was but momentary, though many fell, and the narrow arena was soon slippery with blood.  The Boulognese mariner was foremost among his countrymen, and at that desperate emergency Ludlow and Trysail fought in the common herd.  Numbers prevailed, and it was fortunate for the commander of the Coquette, that the sudden recoil of a human body that fell upon him, drove him from his footing to the deck beneath.

Recovering from the fall, the young captain cheered his men by his voice, and was answered by the deep-mouthed shouts, which an excited seaman is ever ready to deliver, even to the death.

“Rally in the gangways, and defy them!” was the animated cry—­“Rally in the gangways, hearts of oak.” was returned by Trysail, in a ready but weakened voice.  The men obeyed, and Ludlow saw that he could still muster a force capable of resistance.

Both parties for a moment paused.  The fire of the top annoyed the boarders, and the defendants hesitated to advance.  But the rush from both was common, and a fierce encounter occurred at the foot of the fore-mast.  The crowd thickened in the rear of the French, and one of their number no sooner fell than another filled his place.  The English receded, and Ludlow, extricating himself from the mass, retired to the quarter-deck.

“Give way, men!” he again shouted, so clear and steady, as to be heard above the cries and execrations of the fight.  “Into the wings; down,—­between the guns—­down—­to your covers!”

The English disappeared, as if by magic.  Some leaped upon the ridge-ropes, others sought the protection of the guns, and many went through the hatches.  At that moment Ludlow made his most desperate effort.  Aided by the gunner, he applied matches to the two swivels, which had been placed in readiness for a last resort.  The deck was enveloped in smoke, and, when the vapor lifted, the forward part of the ship was as clear as if man had never trod it.  All who had not fallen, had vanished.