The next day was Sunday, but a sad day on the North King; for it was known by daybreak throughout the long line of bunks in the forecastle, that the woman was dead.

The rugged tars, inured to the vicissitudes of warfare and the hardships of a never ending life on the sea, would have thought nothing of dropping a man overboard—"for what is a man more than a sheep?" And the brave soldiers, who time and again had rolled a fallen comrade hastily into a hole to keep his body from falling into the hands of the enemy, would only have been putting one more man out of sight. But this was a woman, the wife of a fellow-soldier, who had dared to leave her children that she might be with her husband and his comrades through all the terrors of a long winter march. The conditions were different. In importance there was no comparison. And when Chaplain Evans, after reading morning prayers on that still December morning, announced that the funeral service would be at three o'clock in the afternoon, there were long lines of compressed lips and rigid features as well. All hearts were softened. By-and-bye all was over, and the sealed bag was dropped into the ocean. Then the men lined up and one by one grasped the Corporal by the hand, mutely telling him of their love and sympathy. It was all the poor fellow could stand. Perhaps it was bad form. They had never had a similar experience to guide them. But it told Corporal Jenkins that their hearts were true; and after the last clasp he strode away by himself to shed silent tears over his lost wife and motherless bairns.

For two days there was a subdued aspect onboard. The men joked less. There were fewer guffaws. Even "Sally" was not sung; and all on board, from the Colonel downward, bore the aspect of men impressed with the fact that something unusual had happened.

But soon a change came. Everything in the past was forgotten. The actual present became of vital moment, for in the early morning, "Sail ahead," sounded from the look-out. "Three-masted. West-by-sou'-west-and-over-to-larboard."

"What flag?" shouted the officer on duty.

"Too far off. Can't tell yet," was the answer.

In another minute, Captain Osborne was there too; and in the distance, brightened by the sunlight, he discerned a little speck of white canvas. The hull of the vessel was still hidden by the curve of the ocean. Bringing his glass to bear, he exclaimed to Sir George who stood beside him:

"I see it now; and, by heaven, it's the Yankee flag!"

"What's her course?" he yelled to the man aloft.

"Bearing down upon us, tacking to nor'-east. Now I see her flag. It's the Stars and Stripes. Looks like a man-of-war. The black spots must be her guns."

"Clear ship for action," shouted the captain in ringing tones.

Quickly the decks were swept of all but guns, canister and shot. Pikes, pistols and rifles were ready. Gun tackles were lashed. Every man was at his post.

In five minutes the distant vessel loomed up into clearer vision. The Stars and Stripes were there sure enough. Sweeping down upon them, the tightly built little craft was full of fight and bent upon the offensive.

"She's plucky to attack us," exclaimed the captain, "with the odds in guns and ship room in our favor."

"Yes, but look at her speed. How she scoots through the water!"

"There! She's tacking again," muttered the captain. "When her larboard-side heaves to, we'll take time by the forelock and open fire. Be ready, men!"

In another minute the American vessel gracefully swept around, setting every sail in good position for the conflict. Then the captain signalled for a round from the larboard guns. Instantly the big cannon bellowed forth their messenger of death. But it was none too soon, for at the same moment smoke issued from the bow of the frigate, and a twenty pound ball plunged through the ranks on the deck of the North King, shattering one of the boats to pieces.

"A good shot," said the captain quietly, as his men carried off a dead seaman and a couple of wounded soldiers.

"Her name's the Delaware," said Sir George, who was using his glass.

"We've hit her," ejaculated the captain. "There's a hole in her forecastle and her bowsprit's gone. Give her the rest of the larboard guns."

That the Delaware was injured was evident, for although continuing to fire, she tacked again and put on full sail to increase the distance between herself and the British ship.

A fierce yell rang out from the men. The order for chase was given and, wild with enthusiasm, every stitch of canvas was put on in hope of overtaking the retreating Delaware. The sun shone overhead among white-cap clouds, and the sea was tossing big waves and foamy jets over the sides of the ships; while at brief intervals one or other continued to belch out its thunder and its shot.

But the distance was too great for many of the balls to be effective. The Yankee fire did some damage to the rigging and sent a nine-pound ball through a porthole, making havoc inside, and wounding men; but as she was creeping further away the fire of the North King did little service. Over and over again the gunners aimed at her mizzen-mast, but it didn't budge. They were not sure that the shot even touched the ship. The fight was discouraging. At last there was a new manoeuvre on the frigate.

"They are making desperate efforts over there," commented the Colonel.

"Yes," exclaimed Captain Payne, who was also closely watching the Delaware, "they are placing their biggest gun in the stern, right behind the mizzen-mast. Our fire has destroyed the railing and you can see what they are at."

"Good Lord! to rake us with their big ball as a parting salute," was Osborne's comment. "But we'll be even with them," and he hurried forward to give his command.

"That gun must be disabled at any cost," he yelled to his men, and with another shout they tried to do his bidding.

That the Delaware was determined to carry out her plans was evident. With her stern to her foe, her men were taking in sail to diminish the intervening distance and make the shot more telling.

"If they would only let us get within musket range," suggested Captain Payne.

"We might reach her now," exclaimed Sir George. "Give the order, Captain. Having once fired that d——d cannon they will put on sail again."

By Captain Osborne's order half a dozen balls whirled away from the muzzles of the forward guns, simultaneously with the crash of the musketry. Through his glass, Sir George saw a gunner at the big cannon fall, while the main deck of the frigate was torn up by the cannonading. But the big gun was still uninjured, and the Delaware had its revenge. Another seaman stepped into place and put a match to the magazine. Then with terrible force the huge ball crashed above water mark into the prow of the North King.

A yell could be heard from the Americans, for they saw the damage they had done; but as another broadside from the liner smashed into their rigging, they hoisted full sail again and gradually swept out of range. The exasperating effects of slow sailing could not be helped; and the battle being over, attention was directed to the dead and wounded, and the damage done.

How much the Delaware was injured it was impossible to tell, for she did not return to the attack. Steadily the distance increased between the two ships, and before night came, the last trace of the frigate was discerned from the mast head, disappearing over the horizon.

Much against her will Helen had remained in her stateroom during the whole of the contest. She had not appeared on deck that day when the Delaware was first seen, and the order to clear the decks given. After the battle, however, she went to the prow of the boat with Harold, in time to see the clipper's heels gradually disappearing.

"Are you glad it is over?" he asked, as he slipped his arm around her.

"I suppose I should be," was her answer, fixing her eyes on the distant frigate, "but I don't know that I am. It was audacious for a little thing like that to attack a big war vessel like the North King. They have killed some of our men, too; a pity you didn't give them a thrashing. Perhaps you couldn't?"

"Why, Helen, what a fighter you are!"

"I came by it naturally, I suppose." This time she laughed. "If the feeling had not been inherited, perhaps I would not have been willing to have come with you at all."

"And now you cannot turn back even if you want to."

"But, dearie, I don't and never did."

"Not even when the enemy were killing our men?" he asked, looking earnestly into her eyes.

"No, not even then," she said; "but I think Sir George might have let me come on deck."

"And expose the only lady we've got, and she my wife, to the hellish dangers of battle. No, indeed, my dear. What do you take us for?"

"If we have another fight I'll ask him," was her answer.

"And I suppose you think he will consent?"

But there were no more battles, in that voyage at least.

The wounded men progressed favorably, considering that there was no regular surgeon on the ship; and by the time they reached port they were almost well again—ready to be transferred to the military hospital as convalescents.

Christmas was over, and the New Year had arrived, before they passed Sable Island. But on the next day, they were in the long harbor, and passing McNab, they saw in the distance the little city of Halifax.