The former were sewn in hammocks, with a round shot at their feet, and dropped overboard; the clergyman reading the burial service.

The wounded were carried below, and attended to by the ship's surgeon and Doctor Rae.

The ship's decks were washed, and all traces of the conflict removed.

The guns were again lashed in their places, carpenters were lowered over the side to repair damages; and when the ladies came on deck an hour after the conflict was over, two or three ragged holes in the bulwarks, and a half dozen in the sails, were the sole signs that the ship had been in action; save that some miles astern could be seen the two crippled privateers, with all sails lowered, at work to repair damages.
Two or three days afterwards, Charlie Marryat and his friend Peters were sitting beside Doctor Rae, when the latter said: "I hope that we sha'n't find the French in Madras, when we get there." "The French in Madras!" Charlie exclaimed in surprise.

"Why, sir, there's no chance of that, is there ?" "A very great chance," the doctor said.