But the wind was what is called at sea a soldier's wind, that is,
blowing so that the ships could lie either way, so as to run out or into
the harbour, and the French frigates, in obedience to their orders, made
sail for their fleet in-shore, the line-of-battle ships coming out to
support them. But our captain would not give it up, although we all
continued to near the French line-of-battle ships every minute--we ran
in with the frigates, exchanging broadsides with them as fast as we
could. One of them lost her foretopmast, and dropped astern, and we
hoped to cut her off, but the others shortened sail to support her. This
continued for about twenty minutes, when the French line-of-battle ships
were not more than a mile from us, and our own commodore had made the
signal of our recall, for he thought that we should be overpowered and
taken. But the _Sea-horse_, who saw the recall up, did not repeat it,
and our captain was determined not to see it, and ordered the signal-man
not to look that way. The action continued, two of the French frigates
were cut to pieces, and complete wrecks, when the French line-of-battle
ships commenced firing. It was then high time to be off. We each of us
poured in another broadside, and then wore round for our own squadron,
which was about four miles off, and rather to leeward, standing in to
our assistance. As we wore round, our main-topmast, which had been badly
wounded, fell over the side, and the French perceiving this, made all
sail, with the hope of capturing us; but the _Sea-horse_ remained with
us, and we threw up in the wind, and raked them until they were within
two cables' lengths of us.
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