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Updated: June 4, 2025
The only other midshipman on board the cutter beside young Walcolm, whose miserable death we had witnessed, twas a light delicate little fellow, about fourteen years old, of the name of Duncan; he was the smallest boy of his age I ever saw, and had been badly hurt in repelling the attack of the pirate.
"Mr Walcolm, why don't you run to leeward, and heave to, sir?" "Answer him instantly, and hail again for another boat," said the sable fiend, and cocked his pistol. The click went to my heart.
Poor Walcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to the gangway half naked, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor, clapping a pistol to his head, bid him, as he feared instant death, hail "that the boat had swamped under the counter, and to send another." The poor fellow, who appeared stunned and confused, did so, but without seeming to know what he said.
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