Poor fellow! all the reward he got, beyond the intense admiration of those who saw him, was a bad attack of small-pox from the diseased _animals_ (there is no other name for negroes in the state they were in) on board the slave-vessel, which somewhat injured the face of one of the handsomest men I ever saw.

He is now an admiral, has done many gallant acts since then, but none could beat what he did on that memorable morning.
I have said that I was among those who were wounded on this occasion.
What my friend A.C.did so far outshone anything that I had accomplished, that it is hardly worth while speaking of my share in the fray.

However, as I am writing sketches from my life, I will not omit to describe the way in which I was wounded.

We were, as I have said, making a rush to assist our gallant leader, who was alone on board the slaver.
The reader will have seen that our business was boarding and fighting our enemy hand to hand.

As I was making a jump on board I saw the white of the eye of a great black man turned on me; he brandished a huge axe, which I had a sort of presentiment was intended for me.