In the short struggle which he had passed, he had actually
dropped his pike, to knock an Indian down with his fist; bundling the
fellow through a port without ceremony, ere he had time to help
himself. But he disdained striking Smudge, with such odds against
him; and he went to the helm, himself, bidding Neb secure the
prisoner. Glad of this little relief to a scene so horrible, I ran
forward, intending to bring my own prisoner aft, and to have the two
confined together, below. But I was too late. One of the
Philadelphians had just got the poor wretch's head and shoulders
through the bow-port, and I was barely in time to see his feet
disappear.
Not a cheer was given for our success. When all was over, the men
stood gazing at each other, stern, frowning, and yet with the aspects
of those who felt they had been, in a manner, disgraced by the
circumstances which led them to the necessity of thus regaining the
command of their own vessel. As for myself, I ran and sprang upon the
taffrail, to look into the ship's wake. A painful sight met me, there!
During the minute or two passed in the brief struggle, the Crisis had
gone steadily ahead, like the earth moving in its orbit, indifferent
to the struggles of the nations that are contending on its bosom. I
could see heads and arms tossing in our track for a hundred fathoms,
those who could not swim struggling to the last to preserve their
existence.
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