Whether the cessation of the roar of the guns made Sam Smatch careless, is uncertain; but just as a 90gun ship was bearing down on the gallant "Fame," who should appear on the quarter-deck but little Billy True Blue. At that moment, the Frenchman let fly a crashing broadside, speedily returned by the crew of the Fame. Round-shot and bullets were flying about like hail, blocks and yards and splinters were rattling down from aloft, and blood and brains and mangled limbs, were being scattered here and there. Unharmed and undaunted the little fellow stood amid the wild uproar, and the havoc and destruction, and the scenes of horror taking place on every side.

The Captain at length turned round and saw the child standing near him.

"Oh go below, boy!-go below! You may be hurt, my child!" he exclaimed in a voice of the deepest concern. He turned to young Garland, who was near him, repeating, "Take him below instantly, out of harm's way."

Billy had never disobeyed the Captain's coinmands before; but he struggled violently in the midshipman's arms, and cried out, "No, no, Billy stay on deck and fight French."

The fine old Captain was raising his hand as a sign that he must be obeyed, when he was seen to stagger. Nat Garland let go the child, and ran to catch him, but before he could get up he had sunk on the deck, just raising himself on one arm; but that slowly gave way, and he lay still on the deck.

Billy True Blue flew up to him with a cry of grief. "Oh, Captain, Captain, what is the matter?" he exclaimed.

THE CAPTAIN STRUCK DOWN.

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Young Garland, and those who stood near, with deep grief, thought that their gallant chief was dead. Captain, Captain, do speak-tell Billy what is the matter?" said the child.

At length the old man opened his eyes, and smiled as he saw that innocent infantine face looking down upon him.

"Alfred-Edgar," he whispered slowly. "Yes, dears, I know you-but I am going-going to another world of peace and quiet where we shall all meet. I have had a rough life away from you; but duty, dears, duty kept me from home- always follow duty wherever it leads."

Billy could not make out what the Captain was talking about; and others thought that he was speaking to him. In a little time he came more to himself; and they were about to take him below, but he insisted on being left on deck.

"I am shot through and through," he said; "I will breathe the open air, and see how the fight goes as long as I live. But take that little boy below out of

danger."

Soon after he had spoken, he again became partly delirious, and Billy shrieked and struggled so violently, that the midshipman, who had a fellow-feeling for him, again set him down, and he ran back to his dying friend.

Captain Penrose now cried out for something to drink; but when it was brought, he would take it from no hands but those of Billy. Unconscious, or regardless of the danger which surrounded him, the child sat himself down composedly on the deck, and continued to moisten the lips of the old man. Now a loud true

British hurra ran along the decks of the "Fame." Another English ship was coming up, and the crew of their opponent, unwilling to encounter the fire of a fresh antagonist, were hauling down her colours. The Captain raised himself up on one arm, and his eye fell on the white flag of France coming down from the mast-head of the enemy.

“Hurra! hurra! hurra!" he feebly exclaimed.

“Hurra! hurra! hurra!" shouted Billy in a shrill tone, waving his little hat. Then the fine old seaman fell back, and when they got up to him he had ceased to breathe.

Hitherto Sir Samuel Hood's division had been becalmed, but now, getting the breeze, it came up in gallant style to take part in the action. Still many of the French crews fought on with the most heroic bravery. The "Glorieux," especially, commanded by the Viscomte D'Escar, made a most noble defence. Her masts and bowsprit were shot away by the board, but her colours were not struck till all her consorts were taken or put to flight. Her brave commander fell in the action. M. de Marigny, in the "Cæsar," displayed equal bravery. Having sustained the fire of several ships, he was, when almost a wreck, closely and vigorously attacked by the "Centaur." His colours, it appeared, were nailed to the mast; and though his men were falling thickly around him, and he himself mortally wounded, he would not yield.

At length, several other British ships coming up, one of the French officers cried out that the ship had surrendered, and at that moment her brave Captain was said to have breathed his last. No sooner did the Cæsar" surrender, than her masts fell over the side.

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