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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Two of the schooners, the Hamilton and the Scourge, have gone down in the night," called out Mr. Brown; "for I have picked up four of the Hamilton's." "Oh-ho!" answered Mr. Trant "That's no news at all! for I have picked up twelve; eight of the Scourge's, and four of the Hamilton's aft fore-sheet."
The prisoners were immediately secured; and the bulk of the "Scourge's" crew shifted into the prize, a sufficient number only being left on board the brig to work her; the wounded also were retained on board the frigate, where there was of course much better and more roomy accommodation for them; our worthy medico shifting over, bag and baggage, to look after us.
Our relations with Margaret were happy enough, marked by love and tenderness as of yore. We were deliberately cheerful, and at times even resolutely gay. But our house had its skeleton closet, and each of us kept a key. Apart from this, all our home was bright. Other wounds had healed. Margaret was home again, and she had been kept from the scourge's awful breath. I had accepted St.
Tom thought "we were in the wrong shop." I now sung out, "This is the Scourge's boat our schooner has gone down, and we want to come alongside." A voice next called from the schooner "Is that you, Ned?"
I have forgotten to say that Lemuel Bryant, the man who fell at the breech of my gun, at Little York, and whom I afterwards hauled into the Scourge's boat, got off, very early after our arrival at Halifax. He made two that got quite clear, instead of the one I have already mentioned. Bryant's escape was so clever, as to deserve notice.
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