Ludlow had not spoken. Still alone on his
elevated and exposed post, he watched the effects of both fires, with a
commander's coolness. The smile that struggled about his compressed mouth,
when the momentary confusion among the boats betrayed the success of his
own attack, had been wild and exulting; but when he heard the rending of
the plank beneath him, the heavy groans that succeeded, and the rattling
of lighter objects that were scattered by the shot, as it passed with
lessened force along the deck of his ship, it became fierce and resentful.
"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.
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