We had spiked all the guns but one, when all of a
sudden a volley of musketry was poured upon us, which killed the
armourer, and wounded me in the leg above the knee. I fell down by
O'Brien, who cried out, "By the powers! here they are, and one gun not
spiked." He jumped down, wrenched the hammer from the armourer's hand,
and seizing a nail from the bag, in a few moments he had spiked the gun.
At this time I heard the tramping of the French soldiers advancing, when
O'Brien threw away the hammer, and lifting me upon his shoulders, cried,
"Come along, Peter, my boy," and made for the boat as fast as he could;
but he was too late; he had not got half way to the boat, before he was
collared by two French soldiers, and dragged back into the battery. The
French troops then advanced, and kept up a smart fire: our cutter
escaped, and joined the other boat, who had captured the gun-boats and
convoy with little opposition. Our large boats had carronades mounted in
their bows, and soon returned the fire with round and grape, which drove
the French troops back into the battery, where they remained, popping at
our men under cover, until most of the vessels were taken out; those
which they could not man were burnt.
In the meantime, O'Brien had been taken into the battery, with me on his
back; but as soon as he was there, he laid me gently down, saying,
"Peter, my boy, as long as you were under my charge, I'd carry you
through thick and thin; but now that you are under the charge of these
French beggars, why let them carry you.
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