had fitted a small schooner, carrying six guns and twenty-four men.  She was commanded by a very gallant fellow—­there is no disputing that—­and he must needs emulate the conduct of the officer who had made the capture; for in a fine clear night, when all the officers were below rummaging in their kits for the killing things they should array themselves in on the morrow, so as to smite the Fair of New Providence to the heart at a blow—­Whiss—­a shot flew over our mast-head.

“A small schooner lying to right ahead, sir,” sang out the boatswain from the forecastle.

Before we could beat to quarters, another sang between our masts.  We kept steadily on our course, and as we approached our pigmy antagonist, he bore up.  Presently we were alongside of him.

“Heave to,” hailed the strange sail; “heave to, or I’ll sink you.”  The devil you will, you midge, thought I.

The captain took the trumpet—­“Schooner, ahoy”—­no answer—­“D—­n your blood, sir, if you don’t let everything go by the run this instant, I’ll fire a broadside.  Strike, sir, to his Britannic Majesty’s sloop Torch.”

The poor fellow commanding the schooner had by this time found out his mistake, and immediately came on board, where, instead of being lauded for his gallantry, I am sorry to say he was roundly rated for his want of discernment in mistaking his Majesty’s cruiser for a Yankee merchantman.  Next forenoon we arrived at Nassau.

In a week after we again sailed for Bermuda, having taken on board ten American skippers, and several other Yankees, as prisoners of war.

For the first three days after we cleared the Passages, we had fine weather—­wind at east-south-east; but after that it came on to blow from the north-west, and so continued without intermission during the whole of the passage to Bermuda.  On the fourth morning after we left Nassau, we descried a sail in the south-east quarter, and immediately made sail in chase.  We overhauled her about noon; she hove to, after being fired at repeatedly; and, on boarding her, we found she was a Swede from Charleston, bound to Havre-de-Grace.  All the letters we could find on board were very unceremoniously broken open, and nothing having transpired that could identify the cargo as enemy’s property, we were bundling over the side, when a nautical-looking subject, who had attracted my attention from the first, put in his oar.

“Lieutenant,” said he, “will you allow me to put this barrel of New York apples into the boat as a present to Captain Deadeye, from Captain ------ of the United States navy?”

Mr. Treenail bowed, and said he would; and we shoved off and got on board again, and now there was the devil to pay, from the perplexity old Deadeye was thrown into, as to whether, here in the heat of the American war, he was bound to take this American captain prisoner or not.  I was no party to the councils of my superiors, of course, but the foreign ship was finally allowed to continue her course.