smallest assistance.  Her own situation, indeed, was almost hopeless; and Sir Edward Pellew himself was deeply affected, when, having done all that seamanship could accomplish, he could only commit to a merciful Providence the lives of his gallant crew, all now depending upon one of the many accidents to the masts and rigging which there was so much reason to apprehend.  Happily, the sails stood well; the Indefatigable continued to gain by every tack; and at eleven o’clock, with six feet water in her hold, she passed about three-quarters of a mile to windward of the Penmarcks; enabling her officers and men, after a day and night of incessant exertion, at length to rest from their toil, and to bless God for their deliverance.

She had scarcely bent new topsails and foresail, the others having been shot to pieces, when two large ships were seen at some distance a-head, crossing her course, and standing in a direction for L’Orient.  One of them was at first supposed to be the Amazon, of which nothing had been seen since the close of the action, and the extent of whose damages was not at all suspected.  The other was considered to be a French frigate, and Sir Edward gave orders to make sail in chase.  But the officers represented to him, that the crew, entirely exhausted by the unparalleled length of the action, and by their subsequent labours, were quite incapable of further exertion; that their ammunition was very short, scarcely a cartridge filled, and every wad expended.  Had the French frigate been alone, this would have been a subject of much regret; for she was the Fraternite, with the two commanders-in-chief and all the treasure of the expedition on board; but her consort was the 74-gun ship Revolution.

The Amazon struck the ground about ten minutes after she ceased firing.  Her crew displayed the admirable discipline which British seamen are accustomed to maintain under such circumstances; more creditable to them, if possible, than the seamanship which saved the Indefatigable.  From half past five until nine o’clock, they were employed in making rafts, and not a man was lost, or attempted to leave the ship, except six, who stole away the cutter from the stern, and were drowned.  Captain Reynolds and his officers remained by the ship until they had safely landed, first the wounded, and afterwards every man of the crew.  Of course they were made prisoners, but they were treated well, and exchanged not many months after.

Conduct like that of the Amazon’s people in their hour of extreme danger—­and it is nothing more than British seamen commonly display in the same situation—­makes an Englishman proud of his country.  Nor should it be forgotten, for it exalts the feeling of patriotism and honest pride, that a man-of-war’s crew at that time was made up, in part, of the lowest characters in society.  What, then, must be the strength and excellence of that moral feeling in England, which