Two of her shots settled one of the enemy's vessels; and before the others could converge upon her, she had crawled slowly up against the off side of the French admiral's ship, which was closely engaged with the Beatitude, the British flagship, on the other side.
The canister, chain-shot, and langrel of the French foe had caused much injury to the Ariadne, and her canvas was in a sore plight.

Fifty of her seamen had been killed, and a hundred and fifty were wounded by the time she reached the starboard side of the Aquitaine.

She would have lost many more were it not that her onset demoralized the French gunners, while the cheers of the British sailors aboard the Beatitude gave confidence to their mutineer comrades.
On his own deck, Dyck watched the progress of the battle with the joy of a natural fighter.

He had carried the thing to an almost impossible success.

There had only been this in his favour, that his was an unexpected entrance--a fact which had been worth another ship at least.
He saw his boarders struggle for the Aquitaine.