Brave hearts! to Britain’s pride
  Once so faithful and so true,
  On the deck of fame that died
  With the gallant, good Riou ­
  Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o’er their grave! 
  While the billow mournful rolls,
  And the mermaid’s song condoles,
  Singing glory to the souls
  Of the brave! 
  CAMPBELL.

Hasty congratulations between the survivors of the victorious party were exchanged as they proceeded to obey the orders which were issued by Captain M –­ who directed their attention to the relief of the wounded, lying in heaps upon the deck, in many instances nearly smothered with the dead bodies which had fallen upon them, and which their own exhausted powers would not permit them to remove.  The task of separation of those who were past all mortal aid from those who might still derive benefit from surgical assistance, was as tedious as it was afflicting.  No distinction was made between the rival sufferers, but, as they came to hand, English or French, they were carefully conveyed to the half-decks of the respective ships, the surgeons of which were in readiness to receive them, their shirt-sleeves turned up to the elbows, and hands and arms stained with blood, proving that they had already been actively employed in the duties of their profession.

On the foremost part of the larboard side of the French frigate’s quarter-deck, where Captain M –­ and his crew had boarded, the dead and dying lay in a heap, the summit of which was level with the tops of the carronades that they were between; and an occasional low groan from under the mass, intimated that some were there who were dying more from the pressure of the other bodies, than from the extent of their own wounds.

Captain M –­, although he had lost much blood, and was still bleeding profusely, would not leave the deck until he had collected a party to separate the pile; and many were relieved, who, in a few minutes more, would have been suffocated.

At the bottom of the heap was the body of the gallant French captain; and Captain M –­ was giving directions to the first-lieutenant to have it carried below, when Willy, who was earnestly looking about the deck, brushed up against the latter, who said to him ­

“Come, youngster, out of the way, you’re no use here.”

“Has any one seen my hat?” interrogated the boy, as he obeyed the order, and removed to a short distance.

“Here it is, my bantam,” said one of the boatswain’s mates, who had discovered it as they removed the body of the French captain, under which it had lain, jammed as flat as a pancake.

“Then it was to you that I was indebted for that well-timed assistance;” said Captain M –­, taking the hat from the boatswain’s mate, and restoring it as well as he could to its former shape before he put it on Willy’s head.

Willy looked up in the captain’s face, and smiled assent as he walked away.

“A good turn is never lost,” observed Captain M –­; “and the old fable of the mouse and the lion is constantly recurring to make us humble.  If I had not put that boy on the quarter-deck, I should in all probability have made a vacancy.  It was remarkable presence of mind on his part.”

We have not broken in upon our narrative to state, that during the scene we have described Mr Pearce, the master, had succeeded in putting both vessels before the wind, although they still were hugged in each other’s embraces, as if they had always been the best friends in the world, and they were now out of the reach of the enemy’s batteries, which (as soon as they perceived the unfavourable results of the action) had commenced firing with red-hot balls, emblematical of their wrath.

When the wounded had been carried below, and placed in comparative comfort on board of their respective ships, the dead bodies were next examined.  Those of the French (with the exception of that of the captain) were launched overboard; while those of the English were then removed, and the French officers, having delivered up their swords, were permitted to remain on deck upon parole, while the men were secured down below in the fore and main holds of the Aspasia, the hatchways being covered over with a strong splinter-netting, that they might not be deprived of fresh air in their crowded situation.  The charge of the prize having been confided to the first-lieutenant and fifty men, the two ships were separated, and laid to, to repair the damages sustained in the conflict.

Captain M –­, whose wounds were not serious, had descended for a short time to have them washed and dressed.  His anxiety to put his ship in an efficient state, and get clear of the bay, previous to bad weather coming on, had induced him to return on deck as soon as he had taken a little refreshment.

McElvina had also cleansed himself from the gore with which he had been begrimed, and having applied to the surgeon to assuage the pain of a severe cut which he had received on his shoulder, came upon the quarter-deck with his arm in a sling, dressed with his usual precision and neatness.  He touched his hat to Captain M –­, with whom he had not communicated since he had quitted him on the quarter-deck of the French frigate, to create the fortunate diversion in favour of the boarders.

“Captain McElvina,” said Captain M –­, taking his hand, and shaking it warmly, “I can hardly express how much I am obliged to you for your conduct this day.  You may be assured that, upon my return, I shall not fail to make a proper representation of it to Government.  I only wish that there was any situation in my ship that could induce you to remain.”

“Thank you, Captain M –­,” replied McElvina, smiling; “but, although on a smaller scale, I have long been accustomed to command; and I should be very sorry that a vacancy should occur in the only situation I would accept.”

“I expected an answer to that effect,” replied Captain M –.  “However, you have this day nobly redeemed your character, and silenced any imputations of hostility to your country that might be thrown upon you in consequence of your late employment; and I sincerely congratulate you.”

“Captain M –­, as you are kind enough to express friendly feelings towards me, may I request that they may be shown by the interest you take in young Seymour?  I cannot but approve his following the honourable career marked out for him; and my regret at parting with one who has so entwined himself round my heart will be considerably lessened by the assurance that you will be his friend and protector.  Any expenses ­”

“Not one word upon that score,” replied Captain M –­; “the boy saved my life this day by his unusual presence of mind, and I shall watch over him as if he were my own child.”

“His education?”

“Shall be attended to.  I pledge you my honour to do him every justice.”

McElvina bowed and walked away to the other side of the quarter-deck; the idea of parting with Willy was always painful to him, and, weak with the loss of blood, he was afraid that the emotion would be perceived, which he now felt less able to control.

Thus it is with proud man.  He struggles to conceal effects arising from feeling which do honour to his nature; but feels no shame when he disgraces himself by allowing his passions to get the better of his reason ­and all because he would not be thought womanish!  I’m particularly fond of crying myself.

The list of killed and wounded was brought up by the second-lieutenant (the duty of the first, who was in charge of the prize, having devolved upon him) ­the former having been ascertained by mustering the ship’s company, the latter from the report of the surgeon.

A deep sigh escaped from the breast of the captain as he looked own at the total.  “Forty-four killed ­sixty-seven wounded!  This is heavy indeed.  Poor Stevenson, I thought he was only wounded.”

“Since dead, sir,” replied the second-lieutenant; “we have lost a pleasant messmate.”

“And His Majesty a valuable officer,” replied the captain.  “I am afraid his mother will feel it in more ways than one ­he supported her, I think.”

“He did, sir:  will you not give an acting order to one of the young gentlemen?” (It was the third-lieutenant over whom they were lamenting.)

“Yes, make it out for Mr Robertson.”

“He’s in the list, sir.”

“What! killed?  So he is, poor fellow!  Well, then ­Mr Wheatley ­let it be made out for him.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

It was not until the ensuing day that the loss of the enemy could be ascertained.  Crowded as were her decks with troops, it was enormous.  Not only the first and second captains, second-lieutenant, and seven junior officers of the frigate had fallen, but eleven officers of the detachment of soldiers sent on board of her.  The total loss appeared to be one hundred and forty-seven killed, and one hundred and eighty-four wounded, out of an aggregate of nearly nine hundred men.

In a few days the Aspasia and her prize arrived at Plymouth, the English colours proudly waving over the tricoloured flag of her late opponent, and both vessels ran into Hamoaze amidst the cheers of thousands of spectators assembled upon Mount Wise and Mount Edgecomb to greet their gallant and successful defenders.  Captain M –­ immediately proceeded to London, where the representation which he made of McElvina’s conduct was followed by an order for his immediate release, and McElvina, taking an affectionate leave of Willy, with a parting injunction to “be honest,” set off to report to old Hornblow, and his daughter Susan all the circumstances attending the capture of his lugger, and the events which had subsequently ensued.