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The Escape of Hobson and His Companions 
 
 Reproduced from "Harper's Pictorial 
 History of the War with Spain." Copy- 
 right 1898, 1899, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
Brave Deeds of 
 American Sailors 
 
 By 
 ROBERT B. DUNCAN 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 

 ■mi 
 
 Copyright, 191 2, by 
 
 George W. Jacobs & Company 
 
 Published September, igi2 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Printed in U. S. A. 
 
 t, CI.A 3^00 40 
 
Contents 
 
 o 
 
 I. 
 
 With Pitchfork. AND Sword . 
 
 The Story of the Men of Machias 
 
 7 
 
 ^ 
 
 II. 
 
 When John Paul Jones Began to Fight 
 The Botihomme Richard and the Serapis 
 
 24 
 
 
 III. 
 
 The Men on the " Mastico " . 
 Decatur and the Philadelphia 
 
 58 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Don't Give Up the Ship ! " . 
 
 Captain Lawrence and the Chesapeake 
 
 81 
 
 
 V. 
 
 The Sick Man of the Lake . 
 The Story of Alexander Perry 
 
 107 
 
 
 VI. 
 
 How the Wind Played Tricks on the 
 
 " Essex " 
 
 The Story of David Porter 
 
 137 
 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Cheese-box 
 
 The Monitor and the Merrimac 
 
 173 
 
 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 
 The Man in the Rigging 
 Farragut in Mobile Bay 
 
 " Another Stripe or a Coffin " 
 Cashing and the Albemarle 
 
 186 
 201 
 
 
 X. 
 
 The Cruise of the Captain's Gig . 
 The Heroism of William Halford 
 
 240 
 
 fe 
 
 ^ 
 > 
 
 ^ 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Man Behind the Men 
 
 The Story of Dewey at Manila 
 
 272 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Valiente " 
 
 The Story of Hobson and His Men 
 
 285 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
Illustrations 
 
 The Escape of Hobson and His Companions . . Frontispiece 
 
 The Capture of the Serapis . . . Facing page 54 
 
 Decatur Capturing the Philadelphia 
 
 " Don't Give Up the Ship ! " 
 
 Perry Leaving the Lawrence .... 
 
 Engagement Between the Monitor and the 
 Merrimac ..... 
 
 The Shipwrecked Sailors on Ocean Island 
 
 On Board the Olympia, Battle of Manila Bay 
 
 74 
 98 
 
 130 
 
 180 
 250 
 280 
 
Brave Deeds of American Sailors 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 
 
 There was great excitement on the water-front of 
 Machias, away down on the eastern coast of Maine, 
 on Saturday, the ninth of May, 1775. Men and 
 boys were running down to the wharf, shouting to 
 each other as they ran ; women were scurrying out 
 of their kitchens, their aprons thrown over their 
 heads, shrilly discussing matters with their neigh- 
 bors ; little children left of? their play to stare and 
 wonder, 
 
 A vessel had just come into the port from Boston. 
 There was nothing unusual about that ; many ves- 
 sels came to Machias to load hay that grew on the 
 rolling hills about the town, or lumber cut from the 
 dense pine forests that bristled for miles behind the 
 bay. But this craft brought big news. Something 
 had happened in Boston that they all knew would 
 change history. There could be no doubt of the 
 meaning of the word that the crew from the vessel 
 were spreading among the men of Machias, who had 
 hurried down to the water to hear. 
 
 Every sailor of the crew was surrounded by his 
 
8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 own little knot of listeners, and was going over the 
 story from the beginning for the benefit of each be- 
 lated arrival. They were telling how the British red- 
 coats, who had been stationed for a long time in 
 Boston, had fallen foul of the patriots round about 
 and had let blood which would surely lead to the 
 letting of much more blood before the matter was 
 ended. They were telling how the patriots, expect- 
 ing trouble with the redcoats, had organized train- 
 bands in all the towns about, and militia companies 
 of minutemen ; men ready to turn out and fight at 
 a minute's notice. How they had been gathering 
 together cannon and powder and military stores and 
 had put it away in Concord and other places. 
 
 They told how the patriots, expecting that the 
 British might attempt to seize the stores, had been 
 watching the redcoats closely ; how they had ar- 
 ranged signals with lights in the belfry of Old South 
 Meeting-house ; how, one night, Paul Revere had 
 seen the light hung out, jumped on his horse, and 
 run through the country, giving the alarm. How 
 the good patriots had come tumbling out of their 
 beds in his wake, snatched up their guns, and gath- 
 ered for a defense of the stores. How, when the 
 British reached Lexington early in the morning, 
 after marching most of the night, they had found a 
 company of minutemen drawn up on the green to 
 receive them. How Major Pitcairn, leading the 
 British troops, had cried out : " Disperse, ye vil- 
 lains ! Damn ye, why don't ye disperse ! " and had 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 9 
 
 ordered his men to fire when the patriots stood their 
 ground. 
 
 • The news of the attack on the men at Lexington 
 had run like a fire through the countryside. The 
 patriots had gathered about Concord and met the 
 redcoats with a hail of bullets. The redcoats had 
 turned back to Boston, unable to destroy most of 
 the stores, which had been buried or hidden. They 
 had been beset all the way by the farmers and 
 townspeople, firing on them from behind walls and 
 trees. The redcoats, on the run, with their tongues 
 hanging out of their mouths, had been saved from 
 destruction or surrender at last only by the timely 
 arrival of reinforcements from Boston. All this they 
 told the men of Machias, over and over again, 
 adding many details to each repetition to freshen the 
 story. 
 
 The little town of Machias had not been greatly 
 disturbed by British rule. They were far from the 
 center of things, and not in any way important. 
 Only one thing had they suffered at the hands of 
 King George. All the tallest and straightest pines 
 in their forests had been set apart for the use of the 
 English navy ; no woodman could lay axe to them 
 without incurring the royal displeasure and punish- 
 ment. Even now there were two British sloops in 
 the harbor, under the protection of a British armed 
 schooner, the Margaretta, loading lumber to be 
 made into barracks for the redcoats in Boston. 
 
 Aside from that, the citizens of Machias had not 
 
lo BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 been troubled much ; they had little complaint to 
 make for themselves about the oppression of King 
 George. But they knew what the men about Boston 
 had been through, and their hearts were with them. 
 Now, when they learned that their fellows in Massa- 
 chusetts had been fired upon, and some of them 
 killed, by the red-coated hirelings of the king, they 
 raged into zeal for the cause of liberty. They 
 would help ; they would do their little best to drive 
 the red-coated tyrants from their shores. 
 
 They said so, all of them, many times over as 
 they stood about the deck of the vessel from Boston, 
 talking with the crew, and casting many darkling 
 glances at the two sloops and the Margaretta, the 
 armed schooner that had them in her care. They 
 hated the flag of Great Britain that swung in the 
 breeze of the armed vessel out in the harbor. 
 
 Dennis O'Brien, at the end of a long silence which 
 had been filled with a scowling gaze at the detested 
 emblem of tyranny, dragged aside one of his com- 
 panions. The O'Briens were six stout sons of an 
 Irishman; Jerry O'Brien, the tallest and stoutest of 
 the six, was a leader in the village in everything 
 that required pluck and determination and good 
 sense. 
 
 Dennis O'Brien, leading aside his companion, 
 whispered something in his excited ear. The two 
 went among the others, whispering. The crew, one 
 by one, was taken aside and told to say nothing of 
 the affair that might reach the ears of the British in 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD ii 
 
 the vessels in the harbor. Then the citizens quietly 
 
 dispersed, going away by twos and threes. 
 
 . That night sixty men stole to a little house in the 
 
 dark woods behind Machias. For a long time the 
 
 sound of their low voices might have been heard, if 
 
 any one had been there to listen. But there was no 
 
 one. 
 
 They would do what they could for the cause of 
 liberty. They must do something ; their blood was 
 aroused. They would capture the Margaretta ! 
 To-morrow would be Sunday. Every Sunday Cap- 
 tain Moore, of the Margaretta, came ashore to attend 
 service in the tiny church on the hill. Captain 
 Moore had heard nothing of the trouble in Boston ; 
 there were no telegraphs in those days, and no ex- 
 press trains delivering the morning papers through- 
 out the land. 
 
 Captain Moore had been at Machias two or three 
 weeks now, and was beginning to feel at home there. 
 He had found the citizens fairly friendly ; they had 
 done nothing more than scold and growl because he 
 had come there for their lumber. Their growling 
 was nothing ; he had no thought of harm coming to 
 him from them. They were subjects of the king 
 whose servant he was. What would they do to him ? 
 
 They made up their minds what they would do to 
 him that night, in the house in the dark pine woods 
 — splendid place for the hatching of a plot ! They 
 would capture him and his vessel. They would do 
 it in this way. They would divide into two parties. 
 
12 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 One party would go to the church ; some would go 
 inside and some would surround the building, while 
 the British officers were at worship. It was not a 
 very nice thing to do, to carry war into the church, 
 but liberty must be served, and they must do some- 
 thing to cool their heated blood. 
 
 Then, while one party held Captain Moore and 
 his officers captives, the other party would put out 
 to the Margaretta in boats and storm her before the 
 crew could guess what it was all about. 
 
 The next day came, as next days will, and brought 
 the Englishman ashore to attend service. It was a 
 pretty day ; the sun warm and bright over the fields 
 and hills and harbor, the leaves bursting from their 
 buds, the birds twittering in the branches, the cows 
 enjoying the fresh green grass in the meadow. It 
 was such a pretty day that Captain Moore, who was 
 reminded of Old Engla,nd by the view, took a pew 
 near an open window that overlooked the slope of the 
 hill on which the church was perched, and the wharf 
 and river beyond. 
 
 Seated in the pew and stealing a peep about the 
 church now and then to help while away the long hour 
 or two of the sermon, Captain Moore fell to wonder- 
 ing why so few of the men of the congregation were 
 present. He wondered, too, why those few had 
 taken their seats close to him, and why they kept 
 looking at him from time to time, beneath their eye- 
 brows. 
 
 Glancing out of the window presently, he wondered 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 13 
 
 what all those men were up to who came by twos 
 and threes to the wharf ; and why they carried with 
 them muskets and great pistols and scythes and 
 reaping hooks and pitchforks and axes. 
 
 But he did not wonder long. Something told him 
 that everything was not as it should be. He felt it 
 in the air. With a sudden shout to his companions, 
 he leaped to his feet, rushed to the open window, 
 and disappeared through it from the sight of the as- 
 tonished congregation, his men after him. 
 
 The minister stopped and stared. The men who 
 had been set to watch the captain glanced sheepishly 
 at one another. The women screamed a little, and 
 giggled. They did not know what it meant. They 
 only knew that it was funny to see the captain of a 
 British ship leap through an open church window 
 right in the middle of the meeting. 
 
 The minister stepped down from the pulpit and 
 went to the window where a part of his congregation 
 had vanished. The matter required investigation. 
 Looking out of the window, he saw the British cap- 
 tain, with the other officers at his heels, running as 
 fast as their legs would carry them toward the river, 
 their coat tails flapping in the wind, their hats in 
 their hands. Behind them, in full chase, as tight as 
 they could clip it, was an armed company of his flock, 
 brandishing all manner of outlandish weapons and 
 shouting mightily. Another band was running over 
 from the wharf to cut oflE the captain and his staff 
 from the river. 
 
14 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The commotion outside was tremendous. The con- 
 spirators, their plans upset, all ran after the English- 
 men yelling frantically. The tumult roused an old 
 salt who had been enjoying a nap on the deck of the 
 Margaretta. He woke up and looked over the rail 
 to see what it was all about. What he beheld was 
 his worthy captain flying down the hill from the 
 church with the whole country at his heels. 
 
 The old salt rubbed his eyes and pinched himself 
 solemnly on the cheek twice before he could believe 
 that it was not a dream. Convinced at last of the 
 reality of what he saw, he ran over to one of the 
 swivel guns, loaded it, and took a shot at the pursu- 
 ing crowd. 
 
 The shot held the men of Machias where they were. 
 They had not counted on that. When a shot fired 
 at you with the intention of killing you is not pro- 
 vided for beforehand in your plans ; when your mind 
 is not made up to it, you are not likely to know 
 what to do, and you will probably stop where you 
 are to think it over. The men of Machias found it 
 so. They were not so much frightened by being 
 shot at, as they were surprised, and deprived of the 
 power to think beyond the first instinct to keep out of 
 the way. 
 
 Relieved of his pursuers, the captain and his officers 
 made their way to the water in more seemly haste ; a 
 boat came ashore for them, and Captain Moore went 
 aboard, fuming, puffing, and astonished. He could 
 not make it out, having heard nothing of the recent 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 15 
 
 event in Boston. As a feeble expression of his 
 opinion of the aflfair, and the people of Machias, he 
 fired a shot or two over the town from his swivel 
 guns, and drew down the river to a safer anchorage. 
 
 Monday morning Denny O'Brien and Joseph 
 Wheaton met by chance on the wharf, and fell to 
 mourning about the miscarriage of their plans. They 
 had come so near to taking the Margaretta that it 
 was tantalizing. Their talk was full of " ifs " ; they 
 worked themselves up into a state of high excitement 
 over it. " We can take her yet," exclaimed Wheaton, 
 at last, smiting his thigh with his fist. 
 
 " How ? " asked Denny O'Brien, eagerly. He was 
 ready for any adventure, but he did not see a way. 
 
 " There are them sloops," returned Wheaton, point- 
 ing to the lumber sloops that the Margaretta had 
 brought to Machias. " 'Twould be easy enough 
 to take one of them. Then we could get a crew of 
 volunteers and go down and take the old Johnny 
 Bull." 
 
 Denny's eyes glistened. " That we will, lad," he 
 cried, and looked about for a way to make a begin- 
 ning. 
 
 At that moment Peter Calbreth and Hoseah Kraft 
 came sauntering along. Dennis turned to them. 
 A few minutes of animated talk, and the four walked 
 over to the sloop, discussing the weather and the con- 
 dition of the grass in the meadows. The crew of the 
 sloop was busy loading and storing lumber. They 
 paid no attention to the loafers on the whar£ 
 
i6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The four men went aboard and strolled among the 
 crew. Before the Englishmen knew what was going 
 forward, they were seized in strong, rustic arms and 
 carried ashore. The four haymakers were in posses- 
 sion of the sloop. 
 
 Being young and full of the joy of living, they 
 raised a mighty cheer in honor of their success. 
 The town was in an unsettled frame of mind, and the 
 cheering brought all the citizens down from their 
 shops and fields in a hurry. 
 
 "What's in the wind?" cried Jerry O'Brien, per- 
 ceiving his brother and three companions strutting 
 up and down the deck of the sloop. 
 
 " We're going down to take the Britisher," re- 
 turned Wheaton, and explained the project in all the 
 pride of having thought of it. A large crowd of 
 men and boys had gathered by this time. 
 
 " My boy, we can do it ! " shouted Jeremiah 
 O'Brien, with enthusiasm, smiting his thigh as 
 Wheaton had done. 
 
 A great scurrying among the bystanders. They 
 flew off in a dozen directions. Presendy they began 
 to come running back. Some of them carried mus- 
 kets ; one of them staggered under the weight of a 
 " wall-piece " — a kind of musket too heavy to be 
 fired offhand, but needing a wall for its support. 
 Some had pitchforks ; some, axes. Others carried 
 powder-horns and bullet pouches. One brought a 
 bag of bread, expecting a long cruise. Another, a 
 few pieces of pork. Three or four of them rolled a 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 17 
 
 cask of water aboard the sloop. The astonished 
 crew of the sloop sat apart on the wharf and watched 
 the proceedings. 
 
 The entire townful of men and boys wanted to go. 
 Thirty-five of the strongest were chosen ; there were 
 no bravest. They were all brave, for that matter. 
 The thirty-five tumbled aboard, hoisted sail, and 
 started after the Margaretta before a spanking 
 northwest breeze. All they had for weapons were 
 twenty muskets, one wall-piece, with three rounds of 
 powder and ball for each ; thirteen pitchforks, and 
 twelve axes. The enemy had four six-pounders and 
 twenty swivel guns. And the British crew outnum- 
 bered the men of Machias on board the sloop. 
 
 But they did not think of that as they sailed 
 down the river toward the Margaretta. If they had 
 thought of it, Jerry O'Brien, whom they had made 
 their leader, would have made them forget it. They 
 were there to capture the Margaretta, and they 
 were going to do it. 
 
 Captain Moore, watching the behavior of his late 
 sloop from the quarter-deck of the schooner, was not 
 pleased with what he saw. What had got into these 
 wild men of Maine, that they made free with his 
 sloops and came down to him in hostile array ? If 
 he had heard the news from Boston he might have 
 known what had got into them. 
 
 Captain Moore was not a coward ; he showed that 
 plainly enough later in the day. But now he ran 
 away from the haymakers. Perhaps, not knowing 
 
i8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 that the redcoats in Boston had already fired on the 
 patriots at Lexington, he did not wish to let these 
 foolish farmers pick a quarrel with him that might 
 lead to a bloody war between brothers. Whatever 
 was his reason, he hoisted his anchor and set sail to 
 get out of the way. 
 
 And, whatever his reason, he made a mess of 
 getting out of the way. The wind was fresh from 
 the northwest, and his course was due south, but he 
 set his mainsail to with the boom to starboard. Any 
 boy would have known better. He had not gone 
 far before he had to jibe the mainsail over to the 
 port side. It went across with a rush ; the sheet 
 got too much slack in it, and the boom brought up 
 abruptly against the back-stays. The jerk was too 
 sharp for the piece of wood ; it snapped ofif short at 
 the point of impact. 
 
 The haymakers in the sloop, seeing the Marga- 
 retta get under way while they were at a distance, 
 and believing their prey would escape, set up a 
 shouting in their rage, and taunted Captain Moore 
 with being a coward, saying many things to him 
 and about him that it would not have been pleasant 
 for him to hear. But when they saw his boom go, 
 and the mainsail crumple into a limp and flopping 
 mass of canvas, they set up a different cry, sure that 
 they would overtake him after all. It never occurred 
 to them to think that they needed to do more than 
 overtake him in order to make a finish of him and 
 his boat. That was the spirit with which they went 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 19 
 
 into the affair ; and tiiat is a good frame of mind to 
 be in when you undertake to do anything in this 
 world. 
 
 Captain Moore was a long way ahead when the 
 accident happened. Not far from him, lying closer 
 inshore, was a merchant schooner. He put in to 
 her, crippled as he was, and made no ado about 
 robbing her of her boom. She could get another at 
 her leisure ; as for himself, he had no leisure just 
 then. He had it aboard and slung, and the sail bent 
 to it, before his pursuers came up with him. This 
 time he made better work of getting under way. 
 
 But as he wore off into the bay at the mouth of 
 the river, the following sloop proved to be a better 
 sailer. His new boom could not get out of the 
 mainsail all the speed there was in it ; it did not fit 
 as it should have, and there was no time to adjust it. 
 
 The mad crew of men carrying pitchforks and 
 axes, with the Irishman Jerry O'Brien at their head, 
 came up little by little as the two stood down the 
 bay. " Now, then, Johnny Bull, we'll soon have 
 ye ! " cried Jerry O'Brien. He never thought of the 
 odds ; of the four six-pounders and the twenty swivel 
 guns against their twenty muskets and one wall- 
 piece, with three charges of powder and ball for each. 
 
 Neither did the other men of Machias think of 
 such details as they thronged along the rail of the 
 sloop, eager to get closer to the enemy of liberty and 
 the friend of tyranny, as they already had come to 
 look upon Captain Moore. Those who had muskets 
 
20 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 held them ready to fire. Tom Knight, moose hunter 
 from the back woods of Maine and a famous dead 
 shot, balanced the heavy wall-piece across the gun- 
 wale, waiting with glistening eye for the time to 
 come when it would be safe to chance a shot. They 
 had only three rounds apiece for the muskets ; they 
 must make every shot tell. 
 
 Captain Moore, still eager to avoid an encounter, 
 cut loose the small boats that he was dragging 
 astern. " Aye, aye, cut away your chicks ; 'twill do 
 ye no manner of good, man 1 " shouted Dennis 
 O'Brien, from the bows of the sloop. 
 
 The distance between the vessels was growing 
 less. There was bustle aboard the Margaretta. 
 Captain Moore was on her quarter-deck giving 
 orders. Men were running to and fro, and hover- 
 ing about the swivel guns. 
 
 A spurt of smoke leaped from one of the swivels. 
 Before the whistle of the first shot had left the 
 air, the entire broadside of the Margaretta leaped 
 forth. 
 
 Jerry O'Brien ran his eye quickly along the rail to 
 see which of his neighbors and friends might have 
 been struck down by the storm of balls that had 
 swept across the water. One man in the waist of 
 the sloop clapped a hand to his chest, crumpled up, 
 shuddered, quivered, and lay still. 
 
 Tom Knight was sighting the wall-piece with 
 great care and deliberation. It roared forth. The 
 man at the helm of the schooner lurched forward 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 21 
 
 across the wheel and dropped to the deck, giving 
 the wheel a turn as his body fell. 
 ' The muskets rattled all along the rail of the sloop. 
 The rest of the Britishers on the quarter-deck scam- 
 pered for safety. There was no one left to set the 
 wheel, which had been turned over by the falling 
 body of the quartermaster, who had been slain by 
 Tom Knight and his wall-piece. With no one to 
 steer her, the Margaretta swung a point or two into 
 the wind, her sails spilled and flapped idly, and she 
 hung in the water, with slackening speed. 
 
 " Now, then ; after 'em, boys!" cried Jerry O'Brien. 
 
 Rushing through the waves under the full press 
 of all her canvas, the sloop dashed toward the drift- 
 ing schooner, and struck her heavily. At the in- 
 stant that they hit together the men in the sloop be- 
 gan to clamber aboard the schooner with wild yells, 
 brandishing pitchforks and axes, swinging their 
 muskets about their heads. 
 
 The jolt of the collision rattled the crew of the 
 schooner from their hiding places. They came 
 bouncing on deck, armed with cutlasses, pikes, and 
 muskets. Captain Moore stormed up and down the 
 quarter-deck, brave enough now. He snatched up 
 hand-grenades, lighted them, and tossed them over 
 into the sloop as fast as he could. 
 
 Once, twice, three times the Americans struggled 
 up the sides of the schooner, seeking to carry her by 
 boarding ; and once, twice, three times, they were 
 beaten back. The sound of heavy blows, the ex- 
 
22 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 plosion of hand-grenades, the popping of muskets, 
 the grunts of the fighters, the curses and cries of the 
 hurt, the cheers of all, mingled in a terrific din. Cap- 
 tain Moore all the while was fighting like a tiger, 
 urging on his men ; and, like a lion, Jerry O'Brien 
 was pressing forward at the head of his. 
 
 Some one, drawing apart from the melee, aimed a 
 musket at the English captain, where he stood rag- 
 ing and fighting magnificently on his quarter-deck. 
 The man pulled the trigger ; it was the last shot left. 
 The captain's face was twisted in sudden pain and 
 horror; he lurched forward, and fell his length on 
 the deck of his schooner. 
 
 *' Now, then, lads ! " cried Jerry O'Brien, seeing 
 him fall. " The captain is down." 
 
 And he headed a last rush for the decks of the 
 schooner. 
 
 Some of the defenders had seen their captain fall, 
 and the news ran through them like a breeze through 
 the tops of pine trees. For an instant the defense 
 slackened. In that instant the Americans poured 
 upon the decks of the British craft, and the end had 
 come. The men, finding themselves hopeless before 
 the stubborn determination of their wild enemy, laid 
 down their arms and surrendered. The haymakers 
 of Machias had captured H. M. S. Margaretta ! 
 
 But it had cost them dear ; the fight had been fast 
 and furious. More than twenty men, a quarter of 
 all engaged, were killed and wounded. 
 
 Captain Jeremiah O'Brien found on the captured 
 
WITH PITCHFORK AND SWORD 23 
 
 vessel muskets, cutlasses, pistols, hand-grenades and 
 ammunition. He placed the cannon and weapons 
 on the sloop, which was lighter and faster than the 
 Margaretta, rechristened her the Machias Liberty, 
 and set out in her for Boston, carrying with him for 
 crew a goodly band of the men of Machias. He 
 was of great service to the Continental troops about 
 Boston, capturing British powder craft and furnishing 
 powder in that way for the use of the besiegers of 
 the town, who needed it badly, and otherwise doing 
 much mischief to the British shipping thereabouts. 
 But the end of his career is another story. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHEN JOHN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 
 
 It was the afternoon of September 23, 1778. 
 Four ships of war were beating northward against 
 a light wind toward Scarborough Head, on the east- 
 ern coast of England ; four smothers of white sails, 
 sweeping gracefully over the sparkling sea of the 
 summer day. Floating above the stern of each was 
 a flag new to the seas, as the ages of flags are reck- 
 oned. It carried thirteen broad stripes, alternately 
 red and white. In the upper corner, near the staff, 
 was a field of blue bearing thirteen stars of white. 
 It was the flag of the United States of America, the 
 young country that had sprung into life two years 
 before, and was now struggling for existence with 
 Old England, its mother. 
 
 Although all of the vessels carried guns, which 
 frowned across the water from their open ports, the 
 practiced eye could have seen that only one of them 
 was built for the sole purpose of war. That one, car- 
 rying thirty-two guns, had the lines of a frigate ; the 
 high sides, the swelling walls, the bulging bows and 
 stern. One of the others was clearly a converted 
 merchantman ; another was a little craft of only twelve 
 guns. The fourth was a great, lumbering hulk, high 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 25 
 
 in the bows, with a poop that was almost a tower. 
 If it had not been for the ranges of guns that showed 
 through her ports she might have been taken for an 
 East Indiaman ; which, indeed, she had been until 
 called into service as a man-of-war. 
 
 What were they doing there, those four ships of 
 war, flying the American flag under the very nose of 
 the enemy ? What mad audacity brought that absurd 
 little fleet to the coasts of England ; of England, mis- 
 tress of the seas ? The odds against them in those 
 waters were dozens to one ; England's navy boasted 
 many vessels, any one of which could have swept 
 those four from the face of the ocean. What was 
 their errand ? What was their hope of escape from 
 the risk they ran ? 
 
 The answer is simple. The answer is : John Paul 
 Jones 1 The little man in the French coat, heavy 
 with gold brocade, and a Scotch cap, pacing the 
 quarter-deck of the old East Indiaman that was 
 doing present duty as a ship of war ; that little man 
 with the dark, quick face, and nervous step ; with 
 the ringing voice and flashing eye, was the reason 
 for this snapping of the fingers under the nose of 
 John Bull. He it was that dared to beard the British 
 lion in his den of the sea. 
 
 Three times he had sailed up and down the coasts of 
 the right little, tight little island, capturing and burn- 
 ing British ships, threatening British towns, throwing 
 British subjects into fits of fear. Once, in the Ranger^ 
 he had captured the British frigate Drake^ off Ireland. 
 
26 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Once he had gone into the harbor of Whitehaven, 
 spiked the guns of the fort, and set fire to the shipping. 
 Another time he had gone ashore to capture an earl, 
 and would have done it if the earl had not luckil}^ 
 been away from home. Fancy an English earl be- 
 ing dragged out of his castle by a handful of upstart 
 Americans ! 
 
 The English government called him a " pirate," and 
 placed a price upon his head. They swore that if 
 they captured him they would hang him. Mothers 
 made their babies stop crying by telling them that 
 Paul Jones would get them ; young boys frightened 
 themselves with him in their play. Never a sail came 
 in sight of a headland of England that the people did 
 not spread the alarm that Jones was coming, and run 
 to shelter. One time a member of the English Parlia- 
 ment, seeing his vessel and mistaking it for an Eng- 
 lish frigate, sent off to it for powder and ball with 
 which to defend his estate, saying that Paul Jones 
 was on the coast. Paul Jones had a sense of humor. 
 He sent the M. P. a keg of powder, with a message 
 that he had no ball of the right size. 
 
 This sense of humor of his took weird slants. He 
 was a Scotchman born — ^John Paul was his real name ; 
 he added the Jones afterward, for reasons that are 
 not known — but he had come into possession of a 
 plantation in Virginia left him by a brother, and had 
 settled on it. He liked America, and he loved the 
 American ideas of liberty. So, when the colonies re- 
 volted against George III he had done what he could. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 27 
 
 He had been a sailor, and naturally took to the sea 
 for fighting. 
 
 • At last he got command of the frigate Ranger, 22. 
 Then his sense of humor came into play. He 
 thought: What a joke it would be to sail over to Eng- 
 land and stir up the snug old Britishers in their own 
 homes ! It has been said, you know, that an English- 
 man's house is his castle. 
 
 He sailed off, full of his joke. To make the joke 
 better, he attacked the town where he had been em- 
 ployed when a boy as clerk in a store — a sweet re- 
 venge, with a good laugh in it. But here is the 
 height of his jesting. The old earl whom he at- 
 tempted to carry off, and would have, if the earl had 
 not been lucky, was the earl under whom Jones's father 
 had been gardener when Jones himself was a little boy. 
 
 It is well known that an Enghshman does not 
 readily see the fun in an American joke, and they 
 saw no fun in those that Jones was playing on them. 
 If they had, they would not have called him a pirate, 
 and put a price on his head. They would have tried 
 just as hard to catch him, of course, but they would 
 have laughed over him at the same time, and would 
 not have threatened to hang him. 
 
 Of course, the threat to hang him made the joke all 
 the more delightful to Paul Jones. Because, before 
 they hanged him they must catch him. Also, it let him 
 know how much he was teasing them. I fancy Paul 
 Jones had many a quiet chuckle in his own cabin over 
 it all. 
 
2S BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The crazy old tub in which he was beating off Scar- 
 borough Head on this afternoon in the summer of 
 1778 was another relish in the general joke. It added 
 zest to sail against England in an old East India- 
 man that had been taken off the seas because it was 
 worn out and not safe. He had obtained her 
 through the French King, Louis XIV, after much 
 trouble and dickering. 
 
 It was after his return from that raid on Eng- 
 land when he had attacked the town where he 
 had worked in a store, and tried to carry off an 
 earl, and had captured the frigate Drake, that he 
 got the old East Indiaman. He put into France 
 when he came away from England. For a long time 
 he pulled wires, trying to get another ship. Benja- 
 min Franklin, who was in Paris at the time, did what 
 he could to help. France, you will remember, was 
 assisting the young country over seas in many ways, 
 as a blow against her old enemy, England. But it 
 was difficult to obtain any satisfaction ; there was too 
 much bickering politics in the French capital. 
 
 One day, after he had been trying several months 
 to get a ship, Paul Jones was reading " Poor Rich- 
 ard's Almanac," written by wise Old Ben Franklin. 
 Reading, he came to this maxim : " If you wish to 
 have any business done faithfully and expeditiously, 
 go and do it yourself. Otherwise, send some one 
 else." 
 
 Paul Jones slapped the book together, slammed it 
 down on the floor, got up, put on his hat, and started 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 29 
 
 to Paris to see the king. He saw him, and talked to 
 him, as man to man. The king was impressed, and in 
 due time gave him the old Indiaman — Due de Daras, 
 it was named. And an old hulk it was, to be sure. 
 Many of its timbers were rotten with age. The 
 craft was awkward ; surely it would not be a smart 
 sailer. 
 
 Jones had said, in a letter written to the commis- 
 sioners who were trying to get him a ship: " I wish 
 to have no connection with any ship that does not 
 sail fast, for I intend to go in harm's way. You know 
 I believe that this is not every one's intention. There- 
 fore, buy a frigate that sails fast, and that is suffi- 
 ciently large to carry twenty-six or twenty-eight guns, 
 not less than twelve-pounders, on one deck. I would 
 rather be shot ashore then sent to sea in such things 
 as the armed prizes I have described." 
 
 But he had waited so long now that he was hope- 
 less of getting anything better than the Daras, so he 
 began at once to make her as staunch as he could 
 and to fit her out for fighting. She carried twenty- 
 eight twelve-pounders on the gun-deck, and eight 
 long nines on forecastle and poop. Jones had six 
 ports cut in each side in the gun-room, below the gun- 
 deck, and had six eighteen-pounders cast, which he 
 mounted there. He had six more ports than guns ; 
 that was a part of his humor. He had found how 
 much could be done by a show of force. 
 
 Not forgetting that he had obtained the ship by 
 following the advice he had read in " Poor Richard's 
 
30 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Almanac," Jones called the craft the Bonhomme Rich- 
 ard, which is free French for Poor Richard. 
 
 At last, after more months, Jones was ready to set 
 sail. Other vessels were added to his to make a little 
 squadron. There was the thirty-two gun frigate 
 Alliance, built in America and named in honor of 
 the recent alliance between France and the colonies. 
 She had been sent to France bearing Lafayette. As 
 a further compliment to the French, a Frenchman 
 named Landais was put in command of her. Part of 
 the crew were French ; part were Englishmen who 
 had been made prisoners in various fights ; part were 
 Yankee sailors. There had been a mutiny aboard 
 on the voyage to Europe, but it had been nipped in 
 the bud. We shall hear more of Landais presently. 
 
 Another of the little fleet was the Pallas, twenty- 
 two guns, a converted merchant vessel. The third 
 was a small twelve-gun sloop, the Vengeance. They 
 were each commanded by French naval officers, and 
 manned largely by French seamen. This was the 
 fleet that was cruising ofT Scarborough Head on the 
 afternoon in September. 
 
 They had had trouble from the beginning. When 
 they first set out, Jones had a crew made up of men 
 from all parts of the world : Americans, Europeans, 
 Laskars, negroes ; human driftwood of the sens. 
 They had not proceeded far when Landais, in -the 
 Alliance, deliberately fouled the Richard, doing so 
 much damage that they had to return, and spend two 
 or three months repairing. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 31 
 
 Perhaps there was luck in that, for before they set 
 forth a second time a number of Americans arrived 
 in the port who had been prisoners in England and 
 had been exchanged. They joined the crew of the 
 Bonhomme Richard and strengthened it both in num- 
 bers and character. 
 
 Now, off Scarborough Head, Jones was walking up 
 and down the high poop of the Richard with a quick 
 step and a dancing eye, looking for a fight. He had 
 had enough of chasing merchantmen ; he wanted 
 some one to come along who would try his teeth ; 
 the joke was losing savor. 
 
 Samuel Israel said that he would get it, too. 
 Samuel was one of the marines on board the Richard. 
 He vowed he smelled a fight in the wind. " Fie, fi, 
 fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. If he's 
 alive he'll soon be dead, for jolly Paul Jones will 
 knock off his head," chaunted Israel, lounging in the 
 midst of a knot of marines on the main deck of the 
 Richard. 
 
 Sam was the wag of the marines ; Jones was a man 
 after his own heart. He was a thin whip of a man, 
 was Israel, with a face that looked not unlike an ice 
 pick, from a side view ; a very long nose, and a slant- 
 ing forehead and chin. You would not have picked 
 him out for a fighter. But he had his little jokes, just 
 as Paul Jones had, and that was one of them. He 
 was the most surprising fighter on board, in personal 
 encounters. He would give up anything for a bout. 
 He loved it; loved it so much that whoever fought 
 
32 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 with him became thenceforth a fast friend, whether 
 he whipped Israel, or, as more frequently happened, 
 Israel whipped him. 
 
 A marine, as you know, is a soldier aboard ship. 
 When there is no fight it is his business to act as 
 policeman ; Israel was a very good policeman. When 
 there is a fight, it is the duty of the marines to take 
 muskets and pick off the enemy's gunners and 
 marines. If there is boarding to be done, or board 
 ers to repel, the marines do it. Besides their muskets 
 they had in those days cudasses and boarding pikes 
 furnished them for such occasions. 
 
 In action the marines were variously stationed 
 about the ship. Many of them were in the tops— 
 the platforms on the masts— where they could pop 
 down on the decks of the enemy. Israel's station 
 was on the maintop, which was, in some respects, 
 the most important and the most dangerous on board. 
 He was a dead shot ; he had been known to shoot a 
 gull on the wing with the ship rolling under his 
 bandy legs. 
 
 To-day he smelled fight, and was full of joy. He 
 glanced up on the lofty poop, where Paul Jones 
 tramped up and down. Lieutenant Richard Dale 
 was with him. Dale was another fighter ; none better. 
 In the beginning of the war between the colonies 
 and the mother country he had not been able to de- 
 cide which side he wanted to fight on. All he was 
 certain of was that he wanted to fight. By chance he 
 joined a British privateer. He was wounded in a fight 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 33 
 
 she had with a Yankee, and while he lay recovering 
 he had more time to think things over. The result 
 ot his thought was that he joined the American cause 
 as soon as he was well enough. 
 
 He sailed in the brig Lexington^ which went to the 
 West Indies for supplies for the Continental army. 
 The brig obtained what she went for, and was return- 
 ing, when she fell in with the British frigate Pearl 
 and was captured. While the prisoners were being 
 transferred from the brig to the frigate, a gale fresh- 
 ened up, and the work had to be discontinued. 
 Dale was still on the brig. 
 
 That night the wind blew so hard and the sea got 
 so rough that the Englishman in charge of the Lex- 
 ington paid little heed to the Americans locked up 
 below deck, not believing they would attempt any- 
 thing with such a sea running, and the brig in dan- 
 ger of swamping. But Dale was aboard. If the 
 Britisher had known more about Dale he would not 
 have felt so secure. Dale led the men in a rush on 
 their captors, retook the brig, and sailed her into 
 Baltimore. 
 
 The Lexington was captured again later in the 
 war. Dale was still on her. He was taken to Eng- 
 land and thrown into Mill Prison, in Plymouth. 
 There he lay rotting for a time. He tried to escape 
 once, but was caught and put away in the dungeon 
 for forty days. As soon as he got out of the dun- 
 geon, he was put back again for singing rebel songs. 
 No doubt now which side he was on. 
 
34 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Another year, and he made a second escape. 
 This time he had better fortune. He made his way 
 to France, sought out Paul Jones, who was prepar- 
 ing to get away in the Richard^ and offered his serv- 
 ices. Jones looked him between the eyes, and made 
 him first lieutenant. It is well that he did. Perhaps 
 Jones could not have done what he did later in this 
 summer day if Dale had not been there to help him. 
 And perhaps neither of them, nor both of them, 
 would have done what they did if it had not been 
 for Samuel Israel, the waggish maintop-man who 
 already smelled the blood of an Englishman. You 
 can make up your mind to that after you have read 
 the story. 
 
 As Captain Jones and Lieutenant Dale paced the 
 deck of the poop and Samuel Israel sniffed the 
 southerly breeze for the odor he had mentioned, a 
 sail peeped out beyond Scarborough Head. A sail 
 was cause for excitement those days. It might be 
 anything ; it might be sudden death, or sudden 
 wealth. As a matter of fact, such fellows as Israel 
 did not care overmuch which it was as long as it of- 
 fered a chance to spill a little of the blood which 
 made perfume for their nostrils. Rather savage 
 days, those. 
 
 All hands turned out to have a look at the sail, 
 and speculate on it. As they looked, another came 
 peeping around the point, and another, and another. 
 Before they had ceased to round the point, there 
 were forty-two sail in all. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 35 
 
 Jones and Dale put their heads together. They 
 scanned each vessel, as it appeared, with powerful 
 glasses. Much depended on the two pairs of glasses. 
 The four little American vessels were well to lee- 
 ward. They could run away if the fleet was a fleet 
 of war vessels. But if it was not a fleet of war ves- 
 sels, there was much for them to stay for. They 
 might bring down many of the forty birds in that 
 flock, and their bones would have much meat on 
 them. 
 
 The glass of the commodore, sweeping from ship 
 to ship of the large fleet, came to a frequent stop on 
 a certain two of them. They towered higher with 
 their white canvas ; their sails were trimmer ; they 
 lacked the little touch of slackness observable to the 
 eye of a naval man in a merchant ship. The two 
 were at the rear and on the flanks of the fleet. 
 
 Jones said little to any one. He gave an order, 
 and the Richard went on the port tack, standing for 
 the shore in front of the fleet. Clearly he was not 
 going to run away ; Samuel Israel, sniffing the 
 breeze, smacked his lips and wagged his head glee- 
 fully. 
 
 The quartermaster broke out signal flags from the 
 main truck, telling the others to follow. But the fel- 
 low Landais, the Frenchman in command of the Al- 
 liance, stood up toward the fleet, followed by the 
 Pallas. " If they carry more than fifty guns we must 
 run away," said Landais to the captain of the Pallas, 
 as he passed within hail. So much he cared for the 
 
36 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 orders of Jones, who was in command of the squad- 
 ron. And the captain of the Vengeance cared no 
 more, for he straightway pulled out to sea. 
 
 By this time the Englishmen, who had been doing 
 some wondering themselves, came to a decision. 
 The larger of the two ships that had been under the 
 especial inspection of Commodore Jones broke out 
 signals^ and the flock of sail broke up, scurrying in 
 a dozen directions. Out of the bunch came sailing 
 the two, flying the ensign of England. 
 
 "Yah!" grunted Samuel Israel, joyously, and 
 clambered up the ratlines to the maintop, dragging 
 his musket after him, as happy as a small boy who 
 climbs a tree for a view of a ball game. 
 
 The breeze was light ; the vessels drew together 
 very slowly. The Alliance sailed with no pur- 
 pose, drawing off and coming back. The Venge- 
 ance was far to leeward. The Pallas behaved bet- 
 ter, but Captain Jones did not put much faith in any 
 French one of them. 
 
 Night was coming more swiftly than the enemy. 
 An evening mist of the sea crept out of the water, 
 dimming but not hiding the vessels from each other. 
 Darkness came, and they were still far apart. 
 
 The high headland of Scarborough was thronged 
 with people who had come to look at the spectacle 
 of a sea fight. The news had gone abroad that Paul 
 Jones was about to close with His Majesty's ships. 
 The moment was thrilling. Paul Jones, the pirate, 
 the marauder of their homes, in a struggle to the 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 37 
 
 death beneath their very eyes 1 Every small boy in 
 the countryside was there ; no mother so brutal as 
 to make him go to bed on a night like this. 
 
 Darkness descended. The watchers ashore saw 
 four long horizontal rows of square lights slowly 
 drawing closer to each other ; the battle lanterns 
 gleaming through open ports. Vague in the glow 
 from the lights, caught back on the water, they saw 
 the shadowy clouds of canvas. They saw, and waited 
 breathlessly. 
 
 It had been hours since the fleet was first sighted 
 aboard the Richard. The strain was severe. The 
 men stood by their guns, snarling at each other, 
 nervous, strung to a tension that vibrated with every 
 trivial event. They had had too much time to think 
 of what was coming ; they had stared death in the 
 face too long for their good. Sudden destruction 
 must be sudden, or it loses its charm. 
 
 Silence was upon the deep ; silence broken only 
 by the plashing of the waves against the timbered 
 sides of the ships and the creaking of their cordage 
 and the rustle of their sails as the back swing spilled 
 the faint breeze from the corners of the canvas. 
 
 Officers paced softly up and down the decks be- 
 hind the gunners ; powder monkeys, as they called 
 the boys who brought the powder from the maga- 
 zines, stood apart, ready to run for more powder 
 when the little they had fetched should be used. Up 
 in the maintop Samuel Israel hummed something 
 about blood and bones. And up on the lofty poop 
 
38 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 of the Richard a small man in a Paris coat, with a 
 Scotch cap thrust on his head, stood motionless, 
 peering into the night through a night-glass. Now 
 and then he gave an order to the man at the wheel, 
 who nodded an "Aye, aye, sir," threw the spokes 
 over a hand or two, and made the rudder creak a 
 response. 
 
 Slowly, slowly, and more slowly, on the fainting 
 breeze, the low, long line of lights that was the 
 enemy's port-holes drew closer. They were coming 
 on bow to bow, on different tacks. 
 
 They overlapped, bow on bow, a half pistol shot 
 apart. A suppressed sigh shivered down the ranks 
 behind the guns. The moment had come I In an- 
 other minute none knew which one of them might 
 be lurched into eternity. 
 
 " What ship is that?" The hoarse cry started the 
 quick breath in each man. It was a hail from the 
 British frigate. 
 
 " I smell the blood of an Englishman," whispered 
 Sam Israel to himself, toying with the lock of his 
 musket, to make sure, in the dark, that it was ready 
 to set the fragrant blood upon the night air. 
 
 An answer from the high poop where Paul Jones 
 stood, Lieutenant Dale at his side and his officers 
 about him. "What is that you say?" in the voice 
 of Jones. The vessels drew abreast ; he was waiting 
 for one more moment to give him a better position. 
 
 "What ship is that? Answer immediately, or I 
 shall fire into you." 
 
 II 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 39 
 
 He had his answer. It came in a sheet of flame 
 from the open ports of the American ; it was borne to 
 his ears in a mighty rush of sound ; the roar of a 
 score of guns. 
 
 And in the same moment the British guns burst 
 forth with their broadside. The fight was on. 
 
 A tiny pop from the maintop, a drip of sound 
 after the deluge of noise that had accompanied the 
 exchange of broadsides, told that Israel was feeling 
 out for the blood that had so long been in his nostrils. 
 
 A broadside fired by one of those old wooden 
 ships used to shake her tremendously. It was like 
 hitting a barrel with a mallet ; every timber in her 
 jarred and trembled. Also, the noise was terrific. 
 But when the Richard fired her first broadside at the 
 Englishman, there was more than the usual recoil. 
 There was a quicker, sharper thump, and an upward 
 thrust. The men on the gun-deck felt it most. And 
 there was more noise of explosion down in the gun- 
 room where the eighteen-pounders were than the 
 three of them in use in the broadside might have 
 been expected to make. 
 
 The cause was not far to find. Two great holes 
 in the gun-deck, fringed with splintered wood that 
 stuck upward at the ends, told the story ; that, and 
 the cries in the gun-room below. Two of the three 
 eighteen-pounders that Jones had had cast in France 
 for his ship had burst at the first fire. Huge masses 
 of the barrels and breeches hurtled through the air, 
 tearing asunder the men who attended the guns, 
 
40 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ripping through bulkheads, chopping down thick 
 stanchions, rending the decks above and below. A 
 couple of pieces had pierced the gun-deck above. 
 
 In the same moment when the men aboard real- 
 ized the disaster that had taken place below, they 
 also learned how rotten was the ship to which their 
 lives were now entrusted. The balls from the 
 enemy's guns tore through the bulwarks and plank- 
 ing like a pea from a blower through wet paper. 
 There was no life to the Richard^ s wood. It gave 
 mushily in front of the striking blows of the shot. 
 Traced across her deck were furrows through the 
 fighting men, mangled wretches on each side mark- 
 ing the course of the balls whose progress nothing 
 but soft wood and softer flesh had opposed. 
 
 Gunners slunk from their guns, appalled. None 
 knew whether his piece might not be the next to 
 hurl itself into a hundred deadly fragments ; none 
 knew whether the next ball from that long, low row 
 of lights floating at a half pistol shot across the 
 water might not tear him limb from limb. 
 
 Paul Jones, seeing the panic about to break, 
 leaped from the quarter-deck and ran among them, 
 cheering them on, laying hand to a rope here, sight- 
 ing a gun there. There was contagion in the man's 
 courage. He made death seem a trifle. They 
 turned back to their work, and poured in another 
 broadside. They threw the heavy guns about like 
 toys, ramming home the shot to shouting, and firing 
 them to rounds of cheers. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 41 
 
 The night was filled with the flash of the guns and 
 clangor of the broadsides. Sam Israel, up in the 
 maintop waiting for the vessels to draw near enough 
 to bring his musket into good use, smelled blood 
 enough. He looked down upon heaps of men 
 strewn over the decks of the Richard. Pools of 
 blood drained off into the scuppers and ran slug- 
 gishly down the sides, pushing crimson froth ahead 
 of them. 
 
 The Richard hauled across the bows of the British 
 ship, trying to get in position to rake. The enemy 
 was too skilfully handled, and too good a sailer. 
 She yawed of^ and took a course that would cross 
 the course of the Richard in time. Both keeping on 
 as they were, they continued to fire as rapidly as 
 they could. 
 
 Jones was not long in seeing that all the advan- 
 tage in this kind of fighting lay with the Englishman. 
 Of his own battery of three eighteen-pounders on a 
 side, not one was left in use. After the explosion of 
 the two in the first discharge, no man would work 
 the others, and no man could be asked to do so. 
 Nor could they have worked them if they would. 
 The shot from the ten eighteen-pounders of the 
 enemy swept across the decks of the gun-room like a 
 draft of wind. In less than half an hour the six ports 
 that Jones had had cut in the ship's sides were torn 
 into one huge chasm. Stanchions were cut away, 
 timbers severed, planking chewed to bits, on both 
 sides of the ship, so that the balls entering on the 
 
42 
 
 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 engaged side soon passed clear through and fell into 
 the sea beyond, without striking anything. It was 
 no place for human life. 
 
 Nor was this the worst. Many of the shot from the 
 enemy had taken the Richard on the up roll and 
 torn holes below the water line. She was leaking 
 badly— "like a basket," said Sam Israel, telling 
 about it afterward. And the battery of twelve- 
 pounders on the gun-deck, above the room where 
 the guns had blown up and which was now swept 
 by the enemy's shot, was being silenced, one gun by 
 one. Now a missile would swing against the muzzle 
 of one of them and throw it from its trunnions or split 
 it into fragments. Now a solid shot would strike 
 against the carriage, jamming it hopelessly. Now 
 a charge of cannister would whisk away the men 
 behind the gun. 
 
 In an hour Jones had only three guns with which 
 to answer the enemy ; two long nines on the quarter- 
 deck, and one twelve-pounder. The long nines he 
 directed himself, loading and firing with cannister, 
 aiming at the upper deck of the enemy, with now 
 and then a double-ended shot sent against their 
 mainmast. 
 
 The English vessel was slowly drawing ahead of 
 the Richard. If she should get a position ahead and 
 rake the length of the vessel with a couple of broad- 
 sides, there would be little chance for the Americans. 
 They knew the danger, but were not able to avert 
 it. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 43 
 
 Now she was well ahead, and swinging in to cross. 
 Commodore Jones was not averse to coming closer ; 
 this long range sparring was wearing him down. He 
 kept on his course, seeing that the other would not 
 have time to cross. The captain of the English ves- 
 sel perceived as much presentl}^ and endeavored to 
 get clear of the oncoming Richard. But he was too 
 late ; the American's bowsprit swept over the quarter- 
 deck of the Englishman. 
 
 Now the men had a rest ; those that were left. A 
 lull came over the fight ; not a gun on either vessel 
 would bear. The captain of the Englishman, per- 
 ceiving that the Americans had ceased firing, called 
 out. " Have you struck ? " he shouted. 
 
 Then came the answer. You have heard it ; it is 
 one of the first things in history, and one of the best. 
 " I have not yet begun to fight," said John Paul 
 Jones. There is humor at its best ! 
 
 For a moment the two vessels clung to each other 
 in a clinch. Then they drifted slowly apart. As 
 they parted, the first flash of the moon rose over the 
 sea. Time out of mind the moon had looked down 
 on fights by land and by sea. It had beheld pri- 
 mordial beasts rending each other with tooth and 
 claw ; it had seen men clad in skins beating each 
 other's brains out with stone bludgeons; it had 
 watched the fleets of Greece and of Rome, but it 
 is safe to venture that it had never seen a better 
 fight than the one which it had arrived in time to 
 behold this night. 
 
44 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 For it was quite true that John Paul Jones had not 
 yet begun to fight. When many another man would 
 have ceased and hauled down his flag, Jones was 
 limping into the conflict with a deadly earnestness 
 that would not be denied of its purpose. 
 
 As the two drifted apart he kept up the fire with 
 the guns he had left, and sought to close once more. 
 His whole object now was to get close and grapple 
 with the enemy. He had no guns left on the en- 
 gaged side but the two nine-pounders against the 
 full batteries of the enemy, which were making pulp 
 of his ship. Water was coming in more and more 
 swiftly ; the sides of the vessel, deprived of support 
 after support by the shot of the enemy, were begin- 
 ning to sway under the load of the decks. Perhaps 
 if they had been called upon to take up the recoil 
 now of full broadsides, the decks would have failed, 
 and decks and guns would have gone crashing down 
 below. 
 
 Now the moonlight showed the smaller English 
 vessel hovering about, seeking to strike a blow, but 
 fearing to lest she might hurt her friend as well as the 
 enemy, for the two combatants were close together. 
 As she hovered, the little Pallas bore down upon 
 her and bore in. They closed in a fight on the out- 
 skirts of the larger, pounding each other with their 
 tiny fists of iron with right good will. 
 
 The two larger vessels were squirming about in 
 the sea, trying each to lie across the bows of the 
 other. In the twistings and turnings, the jib-boom 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 45 
 
 of the English vessel swung slowly over the quarter- 
 deck of the Richard. Jones was across the deck like 
 a. cat with a hawser in his hand. He passed a bight 
 of the hawser about the jib-boom, and carried the 
 rope to the mizzenmast. Stacy, the ship's carpen- 
 ter, bent over to help him, knowing well what he 
 was about. 
 
 Stacy was nervous and hurried ; the rope fouled. 
 Stacy gave vent to a sailor's oath, 
 
 " Don't swear, Mr. Stacy," said Jones, quietly. 
 " In another moment we may all be in eternity, but 
 let us do our duty." 
 
 The rope was made fast ; the two gladiators were 
 bound one to another for a death struggle. 
 
 But not so fast ! The jib-boom snapped under the 
 strain, and the Britisher was drifting away. 
 
 He did not get far. The bight was thrown about 
 the stump of his jib-boom, and this time it held. 
 Tied together the two drifted alongside each other, 
 bow to stern. Paul Jones was just beginning to 
 fight. 
 
 Do not forget that all this time Samuel Israel was 
 in the maintop of the Richard, fingering his musket. 
 Now he rose to his knees, and peered over upon the 
 decks of the enemy for a sight of an Englishman 
 whose blood might need letting. 
 
 Both vessels were enveloped in smoke, but now 
 and then through a rift torn in it by the breeze the 
 moon shone down on groups of gladiators, standing 
 like statues in the light of their battle lanterns. Such 
 
46 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 glimpses were all the topman needed. His musket 
 spat, and spat again, fired point-blank down upon 
 the sweating men at the enemy's guns. 
 
 As the two came together, flank to flank, the side 
 of the British ship that touched the Richard did not 
 have a port open. They had been closed for fear 
 the Americans would board through them. Now 
 the British tars, trying to crowd them open so they 
 might fire, found there was not room for them to 
 swing. So they loaded and fired through their own 
 ports, blowing them out. 
 
 Now Jones began to fight. Below deck he had 
 no chance ; the enemy had cleared him out. His 
 men had come up to escape the torrent of iron that 
 poured through the vessel from one side to the other. 
 They rushed to the forecastle, where they fought 
 with muskets and hand-grenades. 
 
 A hand-grenade is a little bomb, about the size of 
 a baseball, loaded with powder and filled with scraps. 
 It has a fuse, which is lighted before the grenade is 
 thrown. It is cast into the midst of the enemy, 
 where it goes off like a large and malicious fire- 
 cracker. It is a nasty thing to have about your feet, 
 or tumbling down on the top of your head, with the 
 fuse sizzling. We shall have occasion to speak of 
 them again presently. 
 
 You might not have thought that Jones gained 
 much by tjnng his vessel to the other. Every shot 
 from her was going through his poor old tub of a 
 vessel, clear and clean. The enemy's guns out- 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 47 
 
 numbered his many times to one, and the crew was 
 not less numerous. But he was satisfied. The other 
 ship, for one thing, could no longer lodge balls be- 
 neath the water line, being too close to the target. 
 And the range of the guns was for the most part 
 limited to that part of the Richard where there was 
 nothing left to shoot at but a yawning hole. 
 
 Fierce as the fight had been for two hours, it now 
 sprang into a savage intensity that is not to be be- 
 lieved. The men on the two ships were so close 
 together that when they wished to use their rammers 
 to thrust the charges down the throats of the muzzle- 
 loading cannon, they had to poke the other end of 
 the ramrods through the open ports of the enemy. 
 
 "Fair play, there, you cursed Yankee ! " cried one 
 British tar, when an American sailor grasped the 
 end of the rammer and would not permit him to use 
 it. 
 
 " Look out for your eye there, Johnny Bull," 
 shouted another American who was ramming a gun, 
 thrusting the little end of the rammer into the face 
 of an Englishman. It was a race ; the guns were 
 jowl to jowl. The first one that fired would certainly 
 destroy the other. 
 
 The English were more spry. Their gun was 
 discharged first, and the American gun was knocked 
 from its trunnions. It was the last of the twelve- 
 pounders on the gun-deck. 
 
 Jones, firing with his own hands the two nine- 
 pounders on the engaged side of his ship, saw 
 
48 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 another on the off side that was still intact. He 
 called for assistance, and, with great labor, dragged 
 it across. He loaded it with grape and cannister, 
 and fired. The objects in his fire were two. One 
 was to clear the upper deck of the enemy, so that he 
 might board, and the other was to cut down the 
 Britisher's mainmast. To this end he loaded one of 
 the nine-pounders with double-headed shot, and con- 
 tinually fired it directly against the spar. 
 
 As he was so engaged, the ship surgeon came to 
 him, and advised him to surrender. " The ship is 
 sinking," he said. The carpenter had already re- 
 ported five feet in the hold. " The water is gaining 
 on the cockpit. I am forced to wade around in it 
 while attending the wounded." 
 
 " What ! " cried Jones. " Would you have me 
 strike to a drop of water ? " And he went on firing 
 his long nines, leaving the surgeon to return to his 
 wounded in the floating sick bay. 
 
 Smoke was pouring out of the hatches and the 
 ports. The ship was afire in a dozen places, set by 
 the wads from the British guns. Some of the sailors 
 turned their hands to putting out the fires. 
 
 A man came rushing to the quarter-deck. 
 " Quarter, for God's sake, quarter ! " he cried. " We 
 are sinking." He ran to the flagstaff and clutched 
 at the halliards to haul down the flag. 
 
 The eyes of Paul Jones flashed fire. Lifting an 
 empty pistol, he hurled it at the man's head. The 
 heavy whirling weapon struck him ; he fell to the 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 49 
 
 deck with a heavy groan, his skull fractured. John 
 Paul Jones was just beginning to fight. 
 • "Do you call for quarter?" asked the English 
 captain, who had heard the cry. 
 
 " Never ! " answered Paul Jones, calmly. 
 
 " Then I'll give you none." 
 
 The powder was no longer coming up ; the powder 
 monkeys were not to be seen. " Mr. Dale, go below 
 and see why the powder has stopped," said Jones. 
 Lieutenant Dale stepped olT to obey the order. 
 Much depended on his going at that moment ; more 
 than either of them guessed. 
 
 The situation had become unique. The battle 
 was in two layers. Not a man was left fighting 
 below decks in the American ship ; not a man, but 
 the captain, was left above decks on the British. 
 The cannon of the Englishmen were sweeping the 
 insides out of the Richard ; the sailors and ma- 
 rines on the forecastle and in the tops, with their 
 grenades and muskets, had driven the enemy 
 from her upper decks. And so the battle hung sus- 
 pended. 
 
 Now two things transpired that came near chang- 
 ing the balance. When Lieutenant Dale reached 
 the lower deck he found that a quartermaster, believ- 
 ing that the Richard was surely sinking, had set free 
 two hundred Englishmen who were confined below 
 as prisoners of war. These Englishmen were run- 
 ning free. It was nothing but luck that brought 
 Dale down there when he went, but it was more 
 
50 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 than luck that led him to do what he did. It was 
 cool courage and intelligence. 
 
 " For your lives," he cried, " to the pumps. 
 Quick about it. The Serapis is sinking. The 
 Serapis is sinking. We must keep afloat, or we 
 shall all be drowned 1 " He had seen the name of 
 the enemy, in the light of flashing guns, painted on 
 her stern. 
 
 Hidden from any view of what was going on, and 
 unable to learn the true state of affairs, the released 
 prisoners set to work on the pumps and at extin- 
 guishing the fires that were springing up here and 
 there on the Richard. Dale's presence of mind 
 accomplished two things. It occupied the attention 
 of the prisoners, who might easily have overrun 
 and captured the ship from the American crew, and 
 it kept the old trap afloat without the aid of the 
 American sailors, who were needed in the fight. He 
 had turned threatened disaster to advantage. 
 
 The other thing that happened had to do with the 
 Frenchman, Landais, who was in command of the 
 Alliance. He had borne off at the beginning of the 
 fight, but now he came swooping back in the light 
 of the moon, and ranged across the bow and stern 
 of the two grappling ships. Just as he was in line 
 with them, he let fly a broadside ; not at the Eng- 
 lishman, but at the American. Charges of grape 
 whistled across the water and churned through the 
 mass of men on the forecastle of the Richard. 
 
 Then for the first time Jones thought the end had 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 51 
 
 come, believing that the Alliance had fallen into the 
 hands of the enemy, or that it was another ship of 
 the enemy that had come up. 
 
 Another broadside and another came from the 
 Frenchman into the crippled Richard. The Ameri- 
 cans cried out, and set signals to show who they were, 
 to no effect. Jones was ready to strike, when the 
 ship hauled off through the moonlight, and was 
 seen no more. She had done much damage ; many 
 men had fallen before her guns who already had 
 enough to do to fight the English. It was a wicked, 
 a dastardly thing to do. It has been told that 
 Landais was insane. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he 
 merely wanted to bring about the surrender of the 
 Richard so that he could have the honor of retaking 
 her and capturing the Englishman. 
 
 You must not forget that all this time our friend 
 Samuel Israel was in the maintop of the Richard ; 
 and you must not forget that a hand-grenade is a 
 small bomb that is lighted and thrown into the midst 
 of an enemy. Neither must you forget that I have 
 said that if it had not been for Samuel Israel, per- 
 haps John Paul Jones would not have won the won- 
 derful sea fight off Scarborough Head, under the 
 nose of all England. See how true it is. 
 
 The two vessels being locked together by the rope 
 that had been passed about the jib-boom of the 
 English ship and the mizzenmast of the American, 
 the yards of each overhung the other. And the 
 fight having became a fight in layers, so that the 
 
52 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Englishmen were all below while the Americans 
 were all above, there was no one on the deck of the 
 Serapis to interfere with what Israel now set out to do. 
 
 The first thing he did was to get a slush-bucket 
 full of hand-grenades, and a lighted match. He 
 slung the bucket with a lashing over his shoulder, 
 and took the stem of the match between his teeth. 
 The next thing he did was to climb the main rigging 
 again — he had come down on deck for the grenades, 
 — and start out along the main boom that stretched 
 over the deck of the English ship. With his feet in 
 the foot rope slung underneath the yard, and his 
 fingers on the jack-stay, which runs along the top, 
 and to which the sails are bent, he crept farther and 
 farther into the air. 
 
 Now he was over the Richard's gunwale. Now 
 he was over the strip of water that was between the 
 two. Now he was over the gunwale of the English 
 ship. Now he was over her decks. Now he was at 
 the end of the yard ; on the yard-arm. Now his 
 body lay along the yard-arm, reaching out beyond 
 the last tip of spar. His legs were wound around 
 the yard ; his elbows hugged it. No one saw him, 
 excepting Captain Jones, Jones saw everything 
 that moonlight night — everything. 
 
 Samuel Israel, asprawl at the tip of the main 
 yard, lighted a hand-grenade and tossed it down. 
 He watched to see where it went. It struck on the 
 planking, hobbled along, sputtered, and went off in 
 the solitude of the deserted deck, doing no harm. 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 53 
 
 He had not thrown it far enough. His elbows 
 were not free ; he had to cHng on to the yard with 
 them and his legs. 
 
 He lighted another, snapped it across with his 
 wrist, and watched. It struck the combing of the 
 main hatch, which was open, bounced, and went in. 
 
 " I smell the blood of an Englishman ! " chuckled 
 Israel. 
 
 He tossed another, and another ; a dozen. 
 
 Just after the last one disappeared into the main 
 hatch there was a tremendous flash from between 
 decks of the Englishman, and a mighty puffing roar. 
 
 That was what won the fight for John Paul Jones. 
 Not that alone, but that was the beginning of the 
 end. Of course, no one but Jones would have got 
 that far in the fight ; but, having got that far, even 
 Jones himself might not have got farther if Samuel 
 Israel had not dropped hand-grenades down the 
 main hatch of the English ship. 
 
 He was on a ship rapidly sinking. His guns were 
 all out of commission excepting three tiny nine- 
 pounders. His men were tired and disheartened ; 
 they had fought for four hours and a half now and 
 had been whipped for four hours and twenty-nine 
 minutes. They knew it, if Jones did not. His sick 
 bay was full of the maimed and mangled ; there was 
 nothing left to him but his obstinacy. 
 
 Then Israel threw the bomb. 
 
 This is what had happened inside the British ship 
 to turn the tide of war. The English powder 
 
54 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 monkeys, bringing up powder faster than it was 
 needed, had stacked it in the bags in long rows and 
 piles behind the guns, handy for the gunners. The 
 grenade had fallen among this powder, and it had 
 exploded. More than twenty men were blown to 
 bits. Others were horribly burned. Some were 
 stripped of their clothing ; nothing was left but their 
 neck- and wrist-bands. 
 
 At about the same time the mainmast of the 
 Serapis, which had been gnawed at for hours by the 
 little long nines aimed by Jones himself, fell by the 
 board, bringing down the mizzentopmast. 
 
 What should the captain of the British ship do 
 now ? His upper decks were cleared of men ; many 
 of his guns had been silenced ; the enemy, whom he 
 had whipped for four solid hours, was still fighting 
 with a fury that did not diminish. He was grappled 
 to the roaring hell of destruction ; he could not clear 
 himself of the clinch that held him. Curses, shrieks, 
 prayers came to his ears from the lower decks of his 
 vessel, where the wounded men waited their turn to 
 go under the hands of the surgeons. 
 
 He stood on the quarter-deck of his ship, a picture 
 of chagrin and despair. Never had man fought 
 more bravely and stubbornly ; never had man earned 
 victory more fully, or had it more nearly in his grasp. 
 But victory seemed to be but a state of mind, "and 
 the American was not of a mind that he had been 
 defeated. Even now his French coat and Scotch 
 cap, jammed like a gun-wad on the top of his head, 
 
The Capture of the Serapis 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 55 
 
 appeared at the rail at the head of a boarding 
 
 party. 
 
 * As the first foot of the Americans struck the deck 
 
 planking, the Englishman reached the halliards and 
 
 with his own hands pulled down the flag. 
 
 John Paul Jones, seeing the flag flutter down, 
 breathed a short sigh of relief, and his voice rang 
 along his decks. " Cease firing !" he said. 
 
 Observe again what a strong right hand he had 
 in Lieutenant Richard Dale. Dale went aboard as 
 first lieutenant of the conquering ship, to take the 
 possession of the conquered. He found the captain 
 leaning against the quarter-rail, his head in his 
 hands. What miracle had spared him through the 
 hail of lead that had swept his decks of all but him 
 cannot be guessed. Nine men had been shot from 
 his side at the wheel by musket balls ; their English 
 blood let by the men in the tops of the Richard. 
 Death was all around him, but he had come through 
 it for the final humiliation. 
 
 Dale approached him. ** I have the honor, sir," 
 said he, " to be the first lieutenant of the ship along- 
 side, which is the American Continental ship Bon- 
 homme Richard, under command of Commodore 
 Paul Jones. What ship is this?" 
 
 " His Britannic Majesty's late ship, the Serapis, 
 sir, and I am Captain Pearson," was the response. 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," said the young American, re- 
 membering his manners, " in the haste of the mo- 
 ment I forgot to inform you that my name is 
 
56 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Richard Dale, and I must request you to pass on 
 board the ship alongside." 
 
 The first lieutenant of the Serapis, coming up from 
 below, stood beside them. Seeing the American 
 officer, he asked if the enemy had struck. 
 
 " No, sir, I have struck," replied Pearson. 
 
 " I will go below and tell the men to cease firing," 
 said the lieutenant, making a move to do so. " We 
 have got three guns in commission still." 
 
 Dale was too wise for him. He was not to be 
 caught napping. For five hours he had been strain- 
 ing every fibre of body and brain in the most ex- 
 hausting possible work, but his thoughts were as 
 quick as in the beginning. It is that quality that 
 makes men great. He feared that the lieutenant, 
 if he went below, would fire one last broadside and 
 change the result of the fight when victory was in the 
 grasp of the Americans. " Pardon me, sir," he said, 
 stopping the Englishman, " but I must ask you to 
 come aboard the ship alongside." And he sent one 
 of his own men below to call off the Englishmen. 
 
 It was over. The day had been won. The most 
 astonishing fight in naval history had been brought 
 to a close. Victory had rested with him who for 
 more than five hours persisted in denying, against 
 every evidence and all the facts, that he was whipped. 
 Jones had won by sheer and audacious strength of 
 will. 
 
 The Botihomnie Richard was found to be surely 
 sinking. There was no chance of saving her, al- 
 
WHEN PAUL JONES BEGAN TO FIGHT 57 
 
 though the crew fought as vaHantly to keep her afloat 
 as they had fought before to destroy the Serapis. 
 The prisoners and the wounded were brought aboard 
 the captured frigate, and the next daiy the Bo?ihomme 
 Richard settled beneath the waves to her last rest, 
 bearing with her the bodies of those who had died 
 in her defense, and with the American flag flying 
 from her ensign-gaff. A final, fitting honor for them 
 all! 
 
 Samuel Israel, marine and maintopman on the 
 late American Continental ship Bonhomme Richard, 
 standing on the forecastle-head of His Britannic 
 Majesty's late ship Serapis as she lumbered her way 
 under jury masts to the Dutch port of Texel, chaunted 
 a tune under his breath. 
 
 " Fie, fi, fo, fum, 
 1 smell the blood of an Englishman ; 
 He was alive but we knocked him dead 
 And Davy Jones has tucked him in bed." 
 
 Those were the words he chaunted, swinging 
 across the British waters. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 
 
 It was nine o'clock on the evening of February 
 1 6, 1804. A small ketch was creeping into the har- 
 bor of Tripoli, on the Barbary Coast of Africa. Her 
 large, loose sails pufEed with the breeze that blew 
 fresh from the Mediterranean ; the water bubbled 
 about her fore foot and gurgled lazily underneath 
 her keel. A half dozen sailors, in Maltese dress, 
 idled about her decks, gazing at the lights of the dis- 
 tant town, talking quietly among themselves. The 
 helmsman glanced from the sea to the stars and the 
 hghts, and back again to the stars, and the sea. 
 
 It was not strange that such a craft should be 
 making the harbor of Tripoli at nine o'clock on the 
 evening of February 16, 1804. She was one of a 
 type of merchant vessels common in those waters ; 
 there were many like her plying up and down the 
 Barbary Coast. She might have been from Italy 
 with olive oil ; she might have been from Syracuse 
 with lemons ; she might have been from Greece, or 
 Asia Minor. Or she might have been on her way to 
 load fruit for the Sultan of Turkey, or to bring him 
 slaves. 
 
 But she was on none of these errands. She had 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 59 
 
 no wares for the merchants of Tripoli ; no lading for 
 the caravans that went crawling from the coast into 
 the heart of the mighty Desert of Sahara. The half 
 dozen sailors in Maltese dress were not men of 
 Malta. The dim light from the starry sky revealed 
 the clean-cut faces and strong jaws of Americans ; 
 the tongue in which they spoke softly as they 
 stood about the decks was the English tongue. And 
 lurking everywhere in the shadows of the gunwales, 
 behind masts and barrels, indistinct in the darkness, 
 were the forms of crouching men. They were her 
 cargo. 
 
 Two of the disguised sailors stood at the bow of 
 the ketch, gazing forward at the lights of Tripoli and 
 the harbor in front of the town. One of them had 
 a pair of marine glasses at his eyes. " Can you 
 make her out yet?" asked the other, presently. 
 
 A nod and a quiet " Yes," was the answer. 
 
 " Which one is she?" continued the first speaker. 
 
 The other handed him the glasses. " The largest 
 of them all," he said. "She lies in the midst of the 
 gunboats, close under the batteries on the castle 
 wall." 
 
 For a space there was silence. " A tough place 
 for us to get into, too, I should say," observed the 
 first speaker, at last, taking the glasses from his 
 eyes. " Steve," he went on, and there was a ring of 
 exultation in his tone, " Steve, we're making history 
 to-night ! " 
 
 A shrug of the shoulders was the only reply. 
 
6o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 From the shadow of the bulwarks came a clang- 
 ing, metallic noise, like the sound of a scabbard strik- 
 ing against the planking, The one who had first 
 been looking through the marine glasses turned 
 sharply about. " Silence there ! " he commanded, 
 in a firm note of authority. 
 
 A whisper came back : " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 The man left his companion gazing over side and 
 passed aft toward the pilot. As he went, there was 
 a stirring among the shadowy forms under the bul- 
 warks and behind the masts. " Another hour, men," 
 said the man, cheerily. " Stand by." 
 
 A dozen " Aye, ayes," and he went on to take a 
 station beside the pilot, a lank Maltese with villain- 
 ous mustaches whisking in the breeze. 
 
 " Signor," murmured the pilot, " I very much 
 fraid we lose the wind, signor. See, it dies away." 
 
 " We'll have wind enough," replied the American, 
 with a voice of assurance. 
 
 "And the moon," went on the pilot, glancing over 
 his shoulder to where the east was streaked with a 
 creamy flush. "It is rising. We shall be seen. I 
 am not ready to die. It is better that we " 
 
 " Never mind the moon, Catalano," interrupted 
 the other, sternly. " You bring us into the harbor, 
 and do as I say, and you won't die." 
 
 " It is a wild thing that you do, signor, but one 
 can die only once," returned the pilot, twisting his 
 face into an effort at a grin. 
 
 The other said nothing more, but walked to the 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 6i 
 
 taffrail and looked out across the harbor into which 
 they were entering. To the southward, mysterious 
 under the half light of the spangled night, the coast 
 of Africa loomed gray and dim in the distance. Be- 
 yond the land loom, far off, the first peaks of the 
 desert mountains blurred out of sight among the 
 stars. Ahead of the ketch, at the head of the bay, 
 the white walls and Moorish minarets, the mosques 
 and castles, the ancient batteries of Tripoli rose 
 ghost-like from the hills that stretched their toes into 
 the water. A thousand lazy lights blinked from the 
 town and the ships that rode at anchor on the heav- 
 ing pulse of the harbor. From the last hill a fringe 
 of low island and rocks reached through the sea to 
 the eastward like a jaw full of broken teeth and 
 munched the rushing waters of the Mediterranean 
 into froth, leaving the harbor quiet behind them. 
 
 To the north, league on league, the tumbling 
 waters of the Mediterranean were sprinkled with 
 whitecaps by the fresh breeze that came spinning 
 out of the deep. In all the wild waste of waters 
 there was no sign of man except the tall, trim 
 sails of a brig that fluttered across the swirling gray 
 waves. And over land and sea was the starry peace, 
 the quiet calm of African night. In all the picture 
 there was no hint of war. 
 
 But there was war there ; a most astonishing war. 
 The United States, the infant of the west, still 
 struggling through its first tottering steps, had taken 
 arms against the ancient nation of Tripoli ; a 
 
62 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 nation that the powers of Europe, even England 
 itself, had not seen fit to quarrel with. 
 
 The northern coast of Africa was called the Bar- 
 bary Coast. Morocco, Tunis, Algeria, and Tripoli 
 were the principal powers of the coast. They were 
 inhabited by a mixed race of Moors, Turks, and 
 Arabs ; a wild, fierce people whose creed it was to 
 prey upon Christians. Among them all piracy was 
 a trade, encouraged and controlled by the several 
 governments. 
 
 The licensed pirates of the Barbary Coast were 
 called Corsairs. They captured and plundered the 
 ships of Christian nations, and held the ships' crews 
 for ransom. The Christian nations permitted them 
 to do it, and sent large sums of money to free im- 
 prisoned sailors. Some of them bribed the Barbary 
 powers with annual tribute, to let their ships 
 alone. 
 
 The United States, being young and weak, suf- 
 fered much from the Corsairs. American ships were 
 robbed ; American seamen locked up in Barbary 
 dungeons to await ransom. Our country sent money 
 and presents to all the Barbary powers, year after 
 year. We built and fitted out ships for them. We 
 ran their errands to and from the Sultan of Turkey, 
 to whom they all paid tribute. But the more we 
 yielded, the more they demanded. 
 
 Tripoli was the worst offender of them all. The 
 time came at last when we could stand it no longer, 
 and we went to war. 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 63 
 
 We sent a fleet to the Mediterranean, took some 
 of their ships, and blockaded their towns. We were 
 getting the best of it, when on a day the frigate Phil- 
 adelphia, commanded by Captain Bainbridge, chas- 
 ing a vessel into the harbor of Tripoli, went on one 
 of the sunken rocks in the jaw full of teeth that ran 
 into the sea, forming one side of the harbor. 
 
 The Tripolitans at once put out to attack her in 
 her helpless position. Captain Bainbridge made a 
 valiant defense, but there was no hope. The frigate 
 tipped over until her guns would not train on the 
 enemy, and she could not be got off. He surren- 
 dered at last, after he had bored holes in the 
 bottom of the frigate and blocked the pumps, so 
 the enemy could not make use of her. But they 
 succeeded in stopping up the holes, fixing the 
 pumps, and pulling her off the rock into deep 
 water. She was towed into the harbor, and anchored 
 under the guns of the castle batteries. 
 
 The loss of the Philadelphia was a heavy blow. 
 She was a strong fighting ship, and we had none to 
 spare. When she was pulled up under the guns of 
 the castle and anchored there, she strengthened the 
 defenses of the town. Also, it hurt the pride of the 
 American sailors to have one of their best ships in the 
 hands of the Moslems. But no one could think of 
 anything that could be done to remedy the matter. 
 
 One day Captain Bainbridge, a prisoner in Tripoli, 
 wrote a letter to Commodore Preble, who com- 
 manded the American fleet, and managed to have it 
 
64 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 carried to him. The letter was written with the juice 
 of a lemon, which left no mark. It looked like a 
 piece of blank paper. If the Tripolitans had found 
 it, they would have made nothing of it. But Com- 
 modore Preble held it up to the fire when he received 
 it, and the heat brought out the trace of the lemon 
 juice. 
 
 The letter suggested that a picked crew of Amer- 
 icans might steal into the harbor of Tripoli by night, 
 in a native vessel, make their way to the Philadel- 
 phia without being suspected, and either cut her 
 out and sail away with her, or burn her where she 
 lay. 
 
 Foolhardy as the plan seemed, there was not an 
 American in the fleet who would not have been glad 
 to be one of the crew if there had been a native ves- 
 sel that they could use. They could not go in one 
 of their own. They would be known as enemies, 
 and blown out of the water by the guns of the Tri- 
 politans long before they could reach the side of the 
 frigate. 
 
 So the affair was in no better state until a day 
 in December, when the schooner Enterprise, com- 
 manded by Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, captured a 
 Tripolitan ketch, the Mastico by name. It was just 
 what they needed. They could fill her with men, 
 and material that would burn easily, sail into the 
 harbor without arousing suspicion, get alongside 
 the Philadelphia, capture her, set her afire, and get 
 away before the Tripolitans could know what was 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 65 
 
 happening. At least, there was a chance that they 
 might be able to do all this with the Mastico. 
 
 ' Commodore Preble decided at once to try it. 
 When it became known in the American fleet what 
 was going to be done, volunteers clamored from all 
 sides to be permitted to go with the expedition. 
 Many more offered than could be taken, for the 
 Mastico was small. 
 
 Because he had been the one to capture the 
 Mastico from the enemy, Lieutenant Decatur was 
 given command of the attempt, and the crew of the 
 Enterprise was favored. They all wanted to go, but 
 Lieutenant Decatur chose sixty-two men from among 
 them, and made his preparations. Tar barrels, 
 oakum soaked in turpentine, quantities of pitch, were 
 gathered together and stored on the ketch. Provi- 
 sions and water were put aboard, and she was fitted 
 out with guns, ammunition, cutlasses and boarding- 
 pikes. Six officers from the Constitution were per- 
 mitted to accompany them. 
 
 On the ninth of February the Mastico set out from 
 Syracuse, accompanied by the brig Siren, which was 
 to bring them off after they had burned the Phila- 
 delphia and escaped — if they should escape. It was 
 night when they arrived off Tripoli. The weather, 
 which had been favorable, changed suddenly, and a 
 strong gale sprang up. They had with them a 
 Maltese pilot, Salvatore Catalano. He told them 
 they would not be able to enter the harbor with such 
 a sea running, but the Americans were not willing tc 
 
66 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 give up the attempt. Lieutenant Morris and the pilot 
 took some of the sailors in a small boat and went to 
 explore the harbor entrance. 
 
 There were two passages into the bay ; one at the 
 extremity of the chain of rocks and islands, called the 
 Eastern Passage, and another between two islands 
 nearer the town, called the Northern Passage. The 
 Mastico was then near the Northern Passage. Mid- 
 shipman Morris soon found that Catalano was right ; 
 no craft could cross in such a sea. He returned to 
 the ketch, and so reported. 
 
 The two ships hove to near the entrance, hoping 
 the wind would die down. Instead, it increased in 
 fury, driving the Americans to sea. The next day, 
 and the next, and so for six days, it blew. The men 
 in the Mastico had a hard time of it. The ketch was 
 too small for such a large company. There were no 
 accommodations on her. Lieutenant Decatur and 
 three lieutenants and the surgeon occupied the little 
 cabin. Six midshipmen and the pilot slept on some 
 planks laid on top of water casks in the hold. They 
 could not sit upright without knocking their heads on 
 the deck above them. The sailors had only the casks 
 to sleep on. To make things worse, their provisions 
 ran short, and their salt meat spoiled. They all lived 
 on a short allowance of bread and water. 
 
 But they were not to be discouraged by hardships. 
 As soon as the weather moderated they made their 
 course for Tripoli again. They reached the coast on 
 the night of the fifteenth, but found that they had 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 67 
 
 gone too far to the eastward, and were obliged to 
 retire, lest they be discovered by the enemy on the fol- 
 lowing day. 
 
 On the afternoon of the sixteenth they started a 
 third time for TripoH, reaching the coast after night- 
 fall, five miles to the eastward of the town. They laid 
 their course at once for the Eastern entrance. Find- 
 ing that they would arrive too early, Lieutenant 
 Decatur put over buckets and other drags to retard 
 the progress of the ketch, and so they sailed until 
 they came to the harbor entrance, where they bade 
 farewell to their friends on the Siren, and passed in. 
 
 Their plans were well laid. They would steal up 
 to the Philadelphia, pretending to be a coasting 
 merchant ship. As soon as they were alongside, 
 they would board. First of all, the entire company 
 would clear the spar-deck of the frigate, and then the 
 gun-deck. That done, the company was to divide. 
 Lieutenant Decatur, with Midshipmen Izard and 
 Rowe with fifteen men, would stand guard on the spar- 
 deck. Lieutenant Lawrence, with Midshipmen Laws 
 and Macdonough and ten men, would fire the berth- 
 deck and the forward storeroom ; Midshipmen Joseph 
 Bainbridge and John Davis with ten men would fire 
 the ward-room and steerage ; and Midshipman Morris 
 with eight men the cockpit and after storeroom. 
 Midshipman Thorne, with the gunner and surgeon 
 and thirteen men, were to remain on the ketch, while 
 Midshipman Anderson was to man the cutter, pick 
 up all small boats that came out, and prevent as 
 
68 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 many as possible of the Philadelphia! s crew from 
 getting ashore and spreading the alarm. " Philadel- 
 phia " was the watchword. Strict orders were given 
 against the use of firearms except in cases of the 
 greatest need ; the thing must be done quietly, if it 
 were to be done at all. 
 
 And now they were launched on the daring under- 
 taking. The ketch that was creeping through the 
 Eastern Passage, beyond the last sunken rock, on the 
 night of February sixteenth, was the ketch Mastico. 
 The sailors in Maltese dress, speaking the English 
 tongue, were officers of the American fleet ; the dark 
 shadows that massed behind gunwale and mast, out of 
 sight, were the sixty-two stout-hearted men of the 
 schooner Enterprise^ eager to dare death and be re- 
 venged on the dusky Turk. 
 
 They had known the risk they were running before 
 they started. Now, as they sailed into the harbor, 
 and gazed ahead at the lights of the town and the 
 ships at anchor, it did not seem that they had a 
 chance to get away again ; they could scarcely hope 
 ever to leave that placid bay. On one side was the 
 fringe of broken teeth munching the waters of the Med- 
 iterranean. On the other a Moorish battery bristling 
 with guns, like another jaw with sharp teeth, ready 
 to close upon them bitingly. Deep in the crotch of 
 the two jaws, surrounded by the ships of war of the 
 enemy, her own cannon double shotted and her decks 
 swarming with Tripolitans, was the frigate, the prey 
 they had come to destroy. Close behind her were 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 69 
 
 the frowning batteries of the city walls and the 
 Bashaw's castle. As soon as they should touch her, 
 the trap would be sprung ; the jaw that was the bat- 
 teries would close down to crunch them against the 
 jaw that was the chain of islands and rocks. A hand- 
 ful against thousands they were ; a few against fate. 
 But their stout hearts never failed them. Not one of 
 them all would have changed places with those who 
 had been left safe in the harbor of Syracuse with the 
 American fleet, or who now tumbled about in the 
 Siren, outside the harbor. 
 
 Least of all would Stephen Decatur have given up 
 what he was about to do. He it was who had been 
 looking through the marine glasses when the ketch 
 entered the Eastern Passage ; he it was who had 
 warned the hidden men to silence ; who had quieted 
 the fears of Catalano, the Maltese pilot. Now he 
 walked the decks, slowly, calmly, serene, glad. 
 
 The moon rose higher, filling the bay with a soft, 
 silvery light. They could not hope to remain long 
 undiscovered. Already they must have been seen 
 ashore, and aboard the frigate. They must depend 
 entirely upon their disguise. A low order passed 
 along the decks ; the men crouched closer in their 
 hiding-places. Only the half dozen in Maltese dress, 
 and Catalano, the pilot, remained visible. 
 
 The ketch rolled lazily, scarcely heeling before the 
 breeze that was growing fainter and fainter. The 
 lights of the city settled into steady gleams as they 
 drew nearer. 
 
70 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Ten o'clock. The ketch was within hailing dis- 
 tance of the frigate. Lieutenant Decatur stood by 
 the side of Catalano, the pilot. " Head her up for 
 the fore chains," he directed. They must get 
 out of range of the ship's broadside. One blast from 
 those double-shotted guns would send them all to 
 eternity. 
 
 " Aye, aye, signer," Catalano replied, and the 
 ketch swung away. 
 
 The forms of men appeared along the frigate's 
 rail. Others came, to stare idly at the stranger, 
 drifting into haven. They spoke among themselves, 
 discussing her. 
 
 A hail from the frigate. " What ship is that?" in 
 the jargon of those parts ; half Italian, half Moorish. 
 
 The men lurking in the shadows of the ketch's 
 gunwales and masts tightened their grips on cutlass 
 scabbard and boarding-pike. They could see only 
 the face of their commander and watched it for a 
 sign. It was calm and serene. The men lay still, 
 waiting. 
 
 Decatur whispered to Catalano, and the pilot an- 
 swered the hail. '• By Allah and the prophet," he 
 whined, in their tongue, " we have had a sore time 
 of it. For seven days we have tossed about on 
 waves that rolled mountain high upon us. Never 
 have I seen such waves. We are weary and sick. 
 We have lost our anchors. We would make fast to 
 your chains until we can find others." 
 
 More dark faces ranged along the gunwales of 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 71 
 
 the frigate, and peered through her ports, to look at 
 the unfortunate stranger, 
 
 "Who are you?" demanded the voice that had 
 hailed. 
 
 Catalan©, prompted by the American at his elbow, 
 made further answer. " We are unhappy men that 
 live by the sea," he said. " We have stuffs aboard 
 for merchants of your town, and we would make fast 
 to your chains, having lost our anchors." 
 
 " What brig is that in the offing ? " came from the 
 Philadelphia. They had caught sight of the Siren, 
 and were anxious, fearing the Americans. 
 
 The reply had been prepared. " That is the 
 Transfer^'' Catalano told them. The Transfer was a 
 British brig that had been bought by the Bashaw of 
 Tripoli at Malta, and was daily expected. The Turks 
 were satisfied. 
 
 The pilot, alert to gain the fore chains of the frigate, 
 chattered and gossiped with those on her decks, 
 amusing them with the latest tales from eastern ports, 
 and news of the American fleet. The listening Turks 
 stared over at the moonlit deck of the ketch, seeing 
 nothing but six Maltese sailors. 
 
 Closer, closer, on the breath of the dying breeze, 
 the ketch crept toward the chains of the frigate. 
 A moment more, and then . . The men lying 
 
 hidden on the deck of the small craft watched the 
 face of their commander, waiting for the order to 
 board. Their tight fingers whitened about the hafts 
 of their boarding-pikes and the hilts of their cutlasses. 
 
72 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The Mastico hesitated ; she hung in the water ; 
 she stopped. Her sails fell loose, flapped for an 
 instant, and filled from the other side. A cats- 
 paw of wind, puffing from the land, had caught 
 them. The water gurgled under her stern, striking 
 her with little spatting waves. Slowly she began to 
 fall back ; to make sternway, drifting under all the 
 guns of the heavy broadside, not twenty yards away. 
 If they should be discovered now, there would be an 
 end of it all, at once. Not all the courage in the 
 world could save them from immediate destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 The hidden men, aware of the change in course, 
 watched the face of their commander. It was 
 calm as a summer's evening. ** Lower a boat," he 
 ordered, softly. "Carry a line to the ring-bolt in the 
 bows of the frigate. Make it fast." 
 
 There was no need to tell them to hurry. Two 
 sailors in their Maltese dress sprang into the lowered 
 boat, took a line, and bent to the oars. They rowed 
 with a show of indifference, lest they warn the enemy, 
 singing snatches of an Italian song they had picked 
 up in their wanderings. 
 
 As they rowed, another boat appeared from be- 
 neath the stern of the Philadelphia, making toward 
 the ketch. It bore a hawser. The Turk would 
 have had them make fast to his stern. 
 
 The two in the ketch's boat, tying their line to the 
 ring-bolt of the Philadelphia, saw the other coming, 
 and understood. If it should reach the Mastico, the 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 73 
 
 Turks in her would see the hidden crew ; the alarm 
 would be given, and the end would come swiftly. 
 
 Quickly the two made fast their line, and bent to 
 their oars again. With strong stroke they rowed 
 back to intercept the frigate's boat. They reached 
 her before she gained the ketch, and took the hawser 
 she carried, telling her crew, in broken Italian, that 
 they would carry it to the ketch. The Turks, glad 
 to be relieved of the task, turned back. That danger 
 was past. 
 
 The line that was fast to the frigate's ring-bolt 
 was passed along the ketch's deck. From the 
 shadows of the gunwales, from behind masts and 
 barrels, hairy hands reached out and grasped it. 
 The hidden crew hauled in with a steady pull. The 
 ketch hung for a moment, checked her sternway, 
 and forged ahead. Twenty yards, fifteen, ten, from 
 the frigate's chains. Another minute and they 
 would be in reach. 
 
 Suddenly there was a cry of anger from the Phil- 
 adelphia. " Dog 1 " roared a voice ; the voice that 
 had first hailed ; •* you have told us lies. Your 
 anchors are still on your decks ! What trick is 
 this ? " 
 
 Catalano turned pale, but Decatur was undis- 
 turbed. With a swift motion of the hand he sig- 
 naled his hidden crew to remain quiet, and to pull 
 more stoutly. They obeyed. 
 
 A man was running down the chains of the frigate. 
 A cutlass gleamed in his hand. He reached the line 
 
74 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 that held the ketch, and hewed at it with his blade, 
 stroke on stroke. Above, on the decks of the frig- 
 ate, excitement was running higher. The Turks 
 were beginning to suspect some trick. 
 
 The line still held, and the ketch still forged ahead. 
 
 A Tripolitan, peering farther over the side of the 
 frigate, caught sight of the hairy arms reaching out 
 of the shadows to pull on the line ; he saw the shad- 
 ows bulked behind the bulwarks. " Amerikano ! " 
 he shrieked. " Amerikano 1 ! Amerikano ! ! I " 
 
 " Amerikano 1 Amerikano ! " The scream rang 
 through the frigate, taken up by scores of voices. 
 There was a great scurrying of feet ; a rushing to 
 and fro of the astonished enemy. These devil Amer- 
 ikanos 1 What would they not do ? 
 
 There was no longer need for the Americans to 
 conceal themselves. They leaped to their feet and 
 pulled on the line that still held them to the frigate's 
 bow. The man with the cutlass hacked at it as they 
 pulled. It parted at last, but the ketch already had 
 gained enough headway. She drifted alongside, 
 surged forward, reached the chains and was made 
 fast to them with the twist of another rope. 
 
 And now the time had come. In utter silence, 
 save for the heavy breathing and the occasional 
 clank of their arms, the Americans rushed for the 
 chains of the Philadelphia. Before the amazed 
 Moslems could believe what was happening, they 
 were swarming over her gunwales and through her 
 ports. 
 
Decatur Capturing the Philadelphia 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 75 
 
 Midshipman Morris was the first aboard. Lieu- 
 tenant Decatur, leaping into the main chain plates, 
 slipped and lost a step. Midshipman Laws, clam- 
 bering through a port, caught the butt of his pistol 
 and had to stop to free himself. But Morris was 
 not long alone. A rush of men was at his side. It 
 was as though they took form out of the air, so 
 swiftly they appeared. 
 
 The TripoHtans were dismayed. Some stopped 
 to strike back, but most of them rushed to the other 
 side of the vessel and leaped overboard. In a mo- 
 ment the quarter-deck was cleared. Forming 
 solidly, the Americans charged forward, sweeping 
 the Tripolitans ofT the forecastle into the sea. " No 
 prisoners," was the order. 
 
 The Tripolitans below, hearing the scuffling on 
 deck, and the screams, ran up to learn what it all 
 meant, and ran howling back again to hide in the 
 hold like rats, or leaped over the side. 
 
 The decks were free. The Americans poured be- 
 low. In many an odd corner and dark hole of the 
 ship was fierce encounter, but it was not for long. 
 Ten minutes after the first startled cry of 
 "Amerikano" rang out on the African night the 
 Americans were in complete possession of the 
 frigate, and the waters about were specked with the 
 bobbing heads of Turks and Moors and Arabs, 
 swimming for their lives. 
 
 Without delay the conquerors set about firing the 
 ship. Commodore Preble had given strict orders 
 
76 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 against any attempt to bring the Philadelphia out, 
 because of the danger, or there might have been an- 
 other ending to this story. Oakum, soaked in tur- 
 pentine, pitch, staves of tar barrels, were quickly 
 handed up from the ketch and stowed about the 
 frigate by the different parties of the crew, as had 
 been planned. Matches were applied, and the fire 
 leaped into life in half a dozen places. 
 
 By the time the last firing party reached the decks 
 again, flames were snapping through gun-ports and 
 hatchways. Black smoke rolled up ; beneath the 
 planking underfoot was a growing roar of flame ; a 
 hissing and crackling. The growling fire fiend was 
 already smacking his lips. 
 
 There was now no chance that the Tripolitans 
 could return and save the vessel from destruction. 
 The fire had too good a start. Making sure of this, 
 Lieutenant Decatur ordered his men back to the 
 ketch. He was the last to leave ; the Mastico had 
 already swung off when he quitted the Philadelphia ; 
 he had to leap into the ketch's rigging from the 
 bulwarks of the frigate. 
 
 But the danger was not ended. There was no 
 wind, and the Mastico clung alongside. The crew 
 shoved off with sweeps and poles, but the ketch's 
 boom was afoul, and her jigger sail flapped against 
 the hot sides of the frigate's quarter. Red flames 
 tongued out at her from port-holes, stretching to 
 reach her canvas ; they whipped into her tiny cabin, 
 where all her ammunition was stored, covered only 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 
 
 II 
 
 by a tarpaulin. And she would not clear herself 
 from the tall sides of her victim. 
 
 For precious moments the Americans could not 
 find what held her. Some one discovered at last 
 that it was the hawser that the Tripolitans had sent 
 aboard in their own small boat. It had been made 
 fast to the stern of the ketch, and had been forgot- 
 ten. A dozen cutlasses whirled through the red air ; 
 the hawser fell apart, and the Mastico drifted from 
 the doomed ship. The men took to their long 
 sweeps and rowed away. As they rowed, Decatur 
 sent up a rocket as a signal to the Siren that the 
 work was done. 
 
 The flames had gained the frigate's deck. They 
 rolled in huge balls along the planking. Ribbons 
 of blaze uncurled out of port-holes, and wrapped 
 themselves along her sides. A ruddy glare spread 
 over the water ; a torrent of smoke streamed upward, 
 lined with the flare of the flames, and shot with 
 sparks. 
 
 The Americans rowed heartily. Soon the double- 
 shotted guns of the frigate would become heated and 
 go off ; soon the boats and batteries of the Tripoli- 
 tans would open on the little ketch, a fair mark in 
 the pinkened waters of the bay. 
 
 Flames ran up the frigate's masts, curving over 
 at the tops like fiery capitals on fiery columns. Sput- 
 tering serpents of fire twisted along shrouds and rig- 
 ging, writhing through the rushing air. Strands of 
 burning cordage squirmed and swung in the hot 
 
78 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 draught. Firebrands were tossed high on the 
 swirHng blast, to fall sizzling into the sea ; black 
 smoke billowed into the sky. 
 
 The flare of the fire lay tawny over the heaving 
 waters of the bay. The gunboats of the Tripolitans 
 stood out on the red flood ; the batteries, fringed 
 with black guns, blinked ; the white walls of Tripoli 
 stared blankly at the astounding spectacle. People 
 rushed bewildered from their houses into the narrow, 
 steep streets. Soldiers ran up and down the ram- 
 parts, yelling, gesticulating. And the little ketch, 
 filled with the handful of brave men who had created 
 the commotion, moved slowly across the midst of the 
 brilliant harbor, a fair mark for every gunner. 
 
 " Boom ! " A gunboat spoke to them, and a 
 spurt of water leaped into the light a dozen fathoms 
 away. The spray of it fell back in ruby drops. An- 
 other shot, and another. All the gunboats were 
 pounding away, and the land batteries were coming 
 into action. The air shook with the cannonading ; 
 the sea was lashed by the falling shot. 
 
 The men pulled at their sweeps. Not a shot 
 struck them. The enemy were too excited to fire 
 accurately. At the stern of the ketch a group of 
 officers watched the spectacle, paying no attention 
 to the shot and shell that showered about them. A 
 little apart from them Decatur stood in silence, gaz- 
 ing wistfully at the seething mass of fire that had 
 been the proud frigate Philadelphia. 
 
 A flash, brighter than flame, burst from the midst 
 
THE MEN ON THE MASTICO 79 
 
 of the fire, A shower of sparks flew upward through 
 the ascending rush of flame. The roar of a gun 
 came across the waters from the frigate. Another 
 flash ; another shower of sparlcs ; another roar of a 
 gun. Another, and another. The guns of the 
 Philadelphia, becoming heated, were going off, one 
 by one. 
 
 Higher and higher, more and more madly, the 
 billows of fire leaped from the burning vessel. The 
 shot from the gunboats and the batteries fell farther 
 and farther behind. The men at the sweeps, now 
 near the Northern Passage, rested on their sweeps 
 for a last look. 
 
 Suddenly the mass of flame was rent asunder. 
 There was a mighty puff of fire and smoke, a deaf- 
 ening burst of sound rushed across the bay, and the 
 Philadelphia leaped into a myriad burning frag- 
 ments. The magazine had exploded. 
 
 The light died out ; the swirling smoke and flame 
 sucked upward, and spread across the astonished 
 sky. Darkness descended ; the pale light of the 
 moon was nothing after the brilliancy of the burning 
 ship. 
 
 There was the splashing of fragments falling back 
 into the sea. A dozen bulging swells from where 
 the ship had been caught and tossed the Mastico, 
 and passed on to be lost in the waste waters of the 
 sea. This was all. The thing was done. The 
 Philadelphia was no more. 
 
 The men on the Mastico bent to their sweeps 
 
8o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 again in silence, and picked their way to where the 
 boats of the Siren lay waiting for them, in answer 
 to their signal rocket. It had become a story to be 
 told through the years ; a story that will quicken the 
 hearts and set blood bounding through the veins of 
 youth as long as valor and victory are dear to the 
 hearts of Americans. 
 
 Admiral Nelson, hearing of the deed, pronounced 
 it the most daring of the age. Lieutenant Decatur 
 was promoted to a captaincy, and all the officers 
 concerned received higher rank. Not one of the 
 brave men was lost. 
 
 Twoscore years later, in 1844, when Captain 
 Breese of the Otmberland visited Tripoli he caused 
 a portion of the wreck to be raised, and had the 
 water-logged timbers made into souvenirs. That is 
 all that remains of the frigate Philadelphia, except- 
 ing the story. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 "DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP!" 
 
 Captain James Lawrence laid down his knife 
 and fork and looked across the breakfast table at 
 the servant who had just spoken. " A British 
 frigate, did you say?" he asked, briskly. 
 
 "Yes, sir. A big British frigate, sir. In the 
 offing, sir." 
 
 "A frigate? You are certain of that? Not the 
 Tenedos, line-of-battle ship ? " 
 
 " No, sir. A frigate, sir. The sentry at the fort 
 reported it a frigate." 
 
 " And it is alone ? " continued Captain Lawrence. 
 
 " Quite alone, sir. There is no other sail in sight. 
 That is to say, no other ship-of-war, sir." 
 
 Captain Lawrence exchanged glances with the 
 friend with whom he was breakfasting ashore in the 
 city of Boston. " You will have to excuse me, if you 
 will be so good," he said, earnestly. " I shall have 
 to go aboard at once." 
 
 The friend showed concern. "What do you 
 understand it to mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " I take it to mean that Captain Broke has sent 
 the Tenedos away from the station and takes this 
 means of challenging the Chesapeake to come out 
 
82 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 and fight," returned Captain Lawrence, arising from 
 the table. His two sons, who were breakfasting 
 with him, arose also, in high excitement, and stood 
 staring proudly at their father. It was something 
 to have such a father ! It was something to know 
 that the entire country acclaimed him a hero, and it 
 was something to know that he was entitled to the 
 fame and honor that had come to him. For had he 
 not, as captain of the Hornet, attacked and captured 
 the British ship Peacock ? And had he not been 
 second in command of the Intrepid, that time Deca- 
 tur stole into the harbor of Tripoli and burned the 
 frigate Philadelphia, which had fallen into the hands 
 of the Tripolitans ? 
 
 His friend got up from the table and laid an affec- 
 tionate hand on Captain Lawrence's wrist. There 
 was none who knew the man who did not love him. 
 A great, strong, sturdy hero he was ; a man of the 
 finest grain, courteous, well-mannered, gentle, the 
 core of chivalry ; tall, handsome, with a fine head 
 borne finely on broad shoulders. 
 
 " Captain Lawrence," his friend began, " are you 
 going out to meet the Shannon ? " 
 
 " Without delay," returned the officer, emphatic- 
 ally, moving toward the door. 
 
 His friend delayed him. ** Captain Lawrence," 
 he said, '* I can understand your feelings in the mat- 
 ter, and I can only applaud them. It would be try- 
 ing indeed for you to remain safely in the harbor 
 with an enemy of equal strength flaunting his flag 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 83 
 
 in front of you. But there are many things to be 
 thought of. You are scarcely ready for such an 
 encounter. Your crew is raw, and many of them 
 are green hands. Many more of them are for- 
 eigners ; some of them are even EngHshmen. You 
 do not know them, and they do not know you. You 
 have never sailed with the officers who are under 
 you, and you have never sailed in the Chesapeake. 
 It is well known that she is not a fortunate ship ; it 
 would be well for you to know her and your crew 
 better before you sail against so formidable an 
 enemy, for the Shannon is reputed to be the best 
 vessel of her class in the British navy." 
 
 '* Which is another reason why I should proceed 
 at once to meet her," answered Captain Lawrence, 
 with a kindling eye. The thought of the contest 
 was already stirring his blood ; he saw the honor 
 and renown that would come to him from success in 
 the encounter. 
 
 " But there are many things to be thought of," 
 repeated his friend. " Your reputation as a man of 
 courage is in no danger ; no one could think that 
 you declined to fight from fear. It would be under- 
 stood that it was only a sane caution on your part if 
 you delayed meeting the enemy until you were bet- 
 ter prepared." 
 
 Captain Lawrence gently removed his friend's 
 detaining hand from his wrist, and looked him 
 proudly between the eyes. " Once I lay off the har- 
 bor of San Salvador, Brazil, in the Hornet,*' he said. 
 
84 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 "Inside the harbor was the British ship Bonne Cito- 
 yen. I sent in a challenge, asking her commander 
 to come out and fight. He refused to do so. I 
 know what my men thought of him, I know what 
 his men thought of him, I know what I thought of 
 him, and still think of him. He was a coward. I 
 would not have my men, or the men of the Shminon, 
 or Captain Broke, or my countrymen, think that I 
 am a coward. If I knew that I was taking my ves- 
 sel into certain destruction I would go without hesi- 
 tation. But it is not so ; the Chesapeake as she is 
 is a match for any vessel in her class. You are very 
 good to warn me. I receive your advice as it is 
 given, in the spirit of friendship, but I cannot follow 
 it. Good-bye. Commend me to my friends and bear 
 a message for me to my wife. Tell her what has 
 taken place between us. She will understand, and 
 be glad that it is so." 
 
 His young sons slipped to his side, each of them 
 taking a hand. He turned toward the door and left 
 the house, making haste toward the water-front. 
 
 It was the first of June, 1813. For the first time 
 in several days the sky was clear, and the sun bright. 
 It sparkled and danced over the waves of Boston 
 harbor, ruffled under a pleasant breeze. Out in the 
 harbor lay the Chesapeake, the Monday wash of her 
 men hanging from rope and rigging. Far out at 
 the mouth of the harbor gleamed the towering white 
 sails of the British frigate, sailing to and fro in defi- 
 ance, hull down below the horizon. 
 
- DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 85 
 
 Loyal officers on the wharf tried to dissuade him 
 from going out to meet her. " Wait," they urged. 
 He shook his head. He l^issed his children with a 
 stout heart, patted them on the head, laughed away 
 their tears of pride and anxiety, stepped into a boat, 
 and was rowed to the Chesapeake. 
 
 His friend was right when he had called the Chesa- 
 peake an unfortunate ship. It was the Chesapeake 
 that had been overhauled and fired upon by the 
 British ship Leopard in Chesapeake Bay six years 
 before. The captain of the British ship, maintaining 
 that some of the crew of the Chesapeake were desert- 
 ers from the English navy, had demanded their 
 return. When this had been refused, he had opened 
 fire. The American ship was in no condition to 
 make reply, not having expected an encounter with 
 an enemy. She was just putting to sea ; her ropes 
 were about her decks ; there had been no time to 
 make things shipshape. There were no matches 
 for the guns ; she would have been obliged to haul 
 down her flag without answering with one shot if 
 Lieutenant William Henry Allen, in command of 
 the guns of the second division, had not taken a 
 live coal from the galley fire in his naked fingers 
 and touched one off. The flag was hauled down, 
 after the Chesapeake had been under the fire of the 
 Leopard'' s guns for fifteen minutes, and the Ameri- 
 can sailors had the humiliation of seeing four of 
 their crew taken off by the British ship. 
 
 In the war with Great Britain which soon after- 
 
86 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ward followed, the Chesapeake had been unlucky. 
 She had come to Boston, where she now was, from a 
 cruise of four months in which she had captured only 
 a few worthless prizes, while her sister ships were 
 striking heavy blows at the honor of England on the 
 seas, and were gaining for themselves fame and 
 fortune. As soon as she got back to Boston she 
 was blockaded, together with the Coitstiliitioriy which 
 was undergoing repairs, by the British line-of-battle 
 ship Tenedosy and the frigate Shannon. 
 
 Captain Lawrence, returning from his victory in 
 the Hornet over the Peacock, had asked for the Con- 
 stitiitiony and had been given command of it, but the 
 order had been withdrawn, and he was placed in 
 charge of the Chesapeake. He was not pleased, but 
 was too patriotic and loyal to complain, and went to 
 Boston to assume command. He had been in charge 
 of the ship for ten days ; ten days full of trouble and 
 annoyances. 
 
 His greatest trouble was with the crew. Your 
 sailor is a superstitious fellow, and the Chesapeake 
 was known among them as a hoodoo ship. They 
 would not sail on her. There was another reason 
 why sailors were hard to get. All the good men 
 were shipping in privateersmen. The chances for 
 prize money were greater on board a privateer, and 
 the men did not have to submit to the rigid discipline 
 of the naval officers. Because of the difficulty in 
 getting good hands, the riffraff of the water-front 
 was shipped aboard the frigate, and a number of 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 87 
 
 farmer lads were taken ; good enough lads in them- 
 selves, but wholly unfit for immediate service at sea„ 
 ' The crew, when it was finally filled, consisted of 
 men of all races and colors. Many of them were 
 Portuguese, and, as Lawrence's friend had said, there 
 were Englishmen in the crew. And to make bad 
 matters worse, the old sailors, who had been aboard 
 in her recent cruise, were grumbling and sullen over 
 the distribution of prize money. You must remem- 
 ber that when a war-ship takes a prize, the money 
 the prize brings is divided between the officers and 
 men. These men thought they had been cheated ; 
 and when a sailor thinks he has been cheated he is a 
 hard customer to handle. 
 
 And worst of all, the officers on the Chesapeake 
 were new in their positions, and, with one exception, 
 new to the vessel. First Lieutenant Ludlow had 
 sailed with her as third lieutenant in her recent 
 cruise. The third and fourth lieutenants had just 
 been promoted from midshipmen, and were not only 
 not familiar with the Chesapeake, but with their 
 duties in general. 
 
 Everything was in confusion when Captain 
 Lawrence reached the deck of the Chesapeake. 
 Many men of the crew were just coming aboard, 
 some of them for the first time. Their hammocks 
 littered the decks. Others of the crew stood about 
 in idle groups, not knowing their duties, or not car- 
 ing to tend to them. On the brink of an encounter 
 which he knew must be a fierce one, the sight must 
 
88 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 have been discouraging to the brave man. But he 
 bore himself above it, trusting to his own valor and 
 the luck and pluck of the navy to bear him through. 
 
 Going to his cabin he wrote a note to the secre- 
 tary of the navy. " An English frigate is now in 
 sight from my deck," he wrote. '* I have sent a pilot 
 boat out to reconnoitre ; and, should she be alone, I 
 am in hopes to give a good account of her before 
 night. My crew appear to be in fine spirits, and I 
 hope they will do their duty." 
 
 Whether he was trying to make himself believe 
 that, or whether he wrote the words as a matter of 
 form, we cannot know. Neither can we know what 
 he would have written, or what he would have done, 
 if he could have overheard the talk that was going 
 forward among this same crew at the moment he was 
 writing. 
 
 One group was standing under the starboard 
 gangway near the forecastle. The gangways were 
 long platforms that ran from the level of the quarter- 
 deck, which was higher than the main-deck and ex- 
 tended as far forward as the mainmast, to the fore- 
 castle, also higher than the main-deck, at the level 
 of the quarter-deck. There was one on each side of 
 the ship, affording a passage from the quarter-deck 
 to the forecastle without making it necessary to 
 descend to the main-deck and climb up again. 
 
 This group was under the gangway on the star- 
 board side, near the forecastle. They were a dozen 
 men ; Portuguese, Englishmen, some good-for-noth- 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 89 
 
 ing Americans, and a negro or two. They were all 
 crowding about a Portuguese, the boatswain's mate. 
 He was a villainous-looking rogue, with long 
 mustachios, a hooked nose, and an ugly scar over 
 his wicked eyes. He was one of the few aboard who 
 had been on the vessel during its recent voyage ; 
 they were listening to his complaints. 
 
 "This is a bad luck shep," he was growling. 
 " We make long voyage in it before, and come on 
 one, two, tree leetle shep, which we take, but it was 
 not'ing. Poof I They were scarvy shep. So leetle 
 money as that ! " He snapped his fingers in the air 
 to show his contempt for the prizes they had taken. 
 " We sail tree, four mont', and fine not'ing. She be 
 slow in the water like a hog. She wallow in the 
 waves ; she no good sailer. T'en we come home, 
 and dey no give us our money. We show t'em, for 
 no give us our money. They t'ink we fight for t'em 
 like brave mans when t'ey no give us our money ! 
 Bah I We show t'em I " 
 
 The others muttered a chorus to his growlSp al- 
 though not many of them had the same cause of 
 complaint. They scowled up and down the decks, 
 letting their ugly glances loiter about the quarter- 
 deck. 
 
 " T'ey t'ink we let our blood run for t'at we lof 
 t'em," went on the Portuguese. " Ah, yes, we lof 
 t'em. We lof t'em so much t'at we will fight and 
 keel ourselves ; oh, yes ! " 
 
 The others grinned at his sarcasm. 
 
90 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " We have no chance against this Shannon^' 
 spoke up an Enghsh sailor. " I know what she is. 
 A shipmate of mine was in her. That man Broke is 
 the best fighter they have. And shoot, man ! Why, 
 they can hit a cask afloat in the water in any sea. My 
 shipmate told me that they used to throw over a cask 
 and fire at it, with extra rations of grog for the gun 
 crew that hit it first. It never lasted many minutes 
 in the water, let me tell you, and what chance have 
 we against that ship ? 'Tis the best in their navy, 
 I'm teUing you ; the best manned, and the best 
 drilled. Why, most of his men have been with 
 Broke for going on seven years." Which was quite 
 true ; he and his crew worked like a clock together. 
 
 " We're goin' to Halifax, that's where we're 
 goin' ! " piped a negro. " A friend ob mine who 
 lived all ob his life in Nova Scotia, he done call out 
 to me, jes' as we was leavin' the dock to come 
 aboard : * Good-bye, George,' says he. ' You's 
 gwine to Halifax afore you comes back to Bostaing. 
 Gib my lub to requirin' friends and tell 'em Ah 
 berry well.' Dey all knowed we was goin' dere, fast 
 enough, but dey didn't like nohow to be told it, dose 
 people on the dock, and dey went foh ma friend 
 good. I allow he got pretty bad messed up afore 
 dey let him go." 
 
 The Portuguese boatswain's mate shrugged his 
 shoulders and pulled at his long mustachios, to show 
 how little he cared whether they went to Halifax or 
 some other place. At the moment there was a 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 91 
 
 hubbub under the forecastle, and a gang of drunken 
 sailors came reeling out, driven by one of the 
 lieutenants. They had been ashore drinking their 
 good-byes. The Portuguese slipped up to them and 
 whispered something in Portuguese. The men 
 turned on the lieutenant, who was chasing them out 
 of the forecastle, with ugly snarls. He faced them, 
 cutlass in hand. The boatswain's mate slunk away, 
 and the gang succumbed to the show of force on the 
 part of the officer. But it was not a pretty thing to 
 have happen on the verge of a stubborn engage- 
 ment with the best vessel the enemy boasted. 
 
 Twelve o'clock. Captain Lawrence came upon 
 the quarter-deck, trumpet in hand, and issued an 
 order. The boatswain's whistle sounded ; the sailors 
 came tumbling to the mainmast, not knowing quite 
 what was expected of them. The fourth lieutenant 
 went forward with some of them. Presently there 
 was the sound of a sailors' chantey, and the anchor 
 windlass began to wheeze and squeal as the men 
 hove up on the anchor. Others were sent aloft to 
 unfurl the sails ; others stood by halliards and sheets. 
 
 The foretopsail broke out and was sheeted home. 
 The maintopsail followed. One by one the other 
 sails blossomed on the bare masts, the Chesapeake 
 heeled gently, and began to move through the water. 
 Captain Lawrence, standing on the quarter-deck, 
 gazing far across the waters to where the white sails 
 of the enemy showed over the sea, called the men to 
 the mainmast. As they mustered, he whispered to 
 
92 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 a quartermaster at his elbow ; the man jerked a signal 
 halliard, and a pennant, that had hung in a bunch at 
 the main truck, burst into the breeze. It bore, in 
 large letters, the legend : " Free Trade and Sailors' 
 Rights," the motto of the American navy and the cry 
 of the war. 
 
 The Portuguese boatswain's mate, shifting about 
 on the edge of the mustered men, saw the signal 
 pennant and sneered. " Ah, yes, we haf our sailors' 
 rights," he snarled. " We haf t'e right to sail and 
 fight and keel ourselves, and t'ey have the right to 
 all the money we win for t'em with our fighting and 
 our dying ! " 
 
 Captain Lawrence turned to the men and began 
 to speak to them, calling upon them to do their duty 
 and promising them a ready victory. He had not 
 gone far when certain coughings and hawkings that 
 had commenced when he began grew into sly cat- 
 calls and impudent interruptions. Lawrence paused 
 and glanced sternly down among the men until the 
 disturbance ceased. If he had not known before 
 what manner of crew he had he must have known it 
 now. 
 
 He was beginning again when the Portuguese 
 boatswain's mate called out from the skirts of the 
 crowd. " Where ees our prize money ? " he shouted. 
 
 " That is something I know little about," returned 
 Captain Lawrence, quietly. " If there is any money 
 due any of you which, through a misunderstanding, 
 you have not obtained, you may depend upon the 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 93 
 
 honesty and honor of the government to pay it to you 
 in good time." 
 
 " We want it now ! " " Where is our money I " came 
 from half a dozen, emboldened by the Portuguese. 
 
 " You ask us to fight for you, and then, if we are 
 not keeled, you cheat us of the money we earn," 
 cried the surly boatswain's mate, closing his eyes to 
 slits and showing his teeth beneath his heavy mus- 
 tachios. 
 
 The pride of the man on the quarter-deck would 
 not suffer his country to be accused of cheating its 
 sailors. Captain Lawrence turned to the purser. 
 *' Take the men aside and make out checks for 
 them," he ordered. 
 
 How different from the men of the Hornet, which 
 he had commanded, or the Constitution, which he had 
 hoped to command ! Quarreling over a bit of 
 money when they were sailing out to meet an enemy 
 and fight for the honor of their flag ! Even when he 
 called the attention of the crew to the flag bearing 
 the motto : " Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," as he 
 concluded his speech to them, there was only the 
 faintest sort of a cheer, and they went back to their 
 stations sullen and listless. 
 
 A feeling of heaviness spread through the ship. 
 The men leaned against their guns, silent, or grum- 
 bling. The officers of the ship, going about on their 
 business, walked with lagging feet and stooping 
 shoulders, as though bearing a burden. There was 
 no buoyancy, no joy, as there was wont to be when 
 
94 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 an American vessel went into action against tlie 
 British with the emblem, " Free Trade and Sailors' 
 Rights," flying from the masthead. Even Captain 
 Lawrence, standing in the majesty of his towering 
 muscular frame and fine dignity on the quarter-deck, 
 or passing among the men with words of confidence 
 and cheer, seemed to feel the heaviness. His voice 
 lacked ring ; his eye was not as confident in its flash- 
 ing as it had been that day the Hornet was about to 
 fire into the Peacock. *' Peacock them, boys, Peacock 
 them," he said, trying to throw enthusiasm into his 
 words ; but they fell flat on ears that cared not what 
 he said. 
 
 Slowly the beautiful ship clipped out of the harbor 
 across the sparkling sea. In her wake came a fleet 
 of smaller craft, laden with people from Boston, 
 anxious to see the fight All along the shore, in the 
 direction of Marblehead and Salem, people were 
 hurrying afoot and in vehicles, to catch what glimpse 
 they could of it. They had long been fretful under 
 the blockade the British ships had held in front of 
 their port ; they rejoiced in this blow that was to be 
 struck to loosen the hold of the English fleet. 
 
 Four o'clock, and the Chesapeake was forging 
 through the waters in the direction of the Shannon. 
 Now the hull of the Shannon stood out clear against 
 the waters of the sea ; her fringe of black guns was 
 distinct against the band of yellow which passed all 
 along the length of the English ship where her gun- 
 ports were. 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 95 
 
 "Boom." A gun on the windward side of the 
 Chesapeake spoke out, telHng the EngHshmen that 
 they were ready for the fight. The Chesapeake was 
 to the windward of her enemy, bearing down rapidly. 
 She might have crossed her stern and raked ; Cap- 
 tain Broke feared that mancEUvre ; but Captain Law- 
 rence disdained to take such an advantage. He 
 would fight it out, yard-arm to yard-arm, and might 
 the best man win ! 
 
 The Shannoti was waiting under topsails and jib. 
 The Chesapeake drew abreast. The men were at 
 the guns ; the sailors and marines in the tops. 
 Slowly the bow of the American ship forged ahead ; 
 now her bowsprit was even with the stern of the 
 enemy ; now the ships were beginning to overlap, 
 fifty yards apart. The shadow of the Chesapeake^ s 
 sails, cast by the setting sun, lay across the decks of 
 the Shannon. 
 
 A flash from the sternmost gun on the English- 
 man, a boom, and a shot came rushing across the 
 narrow strip of water that was between them. Be- 
 fore it struck the Chesapeake, another gun, next for- 
 ward to the first, had spoken, and so they went, one 
 after the other, as the advancing vessel came within 
 range. 
 
 The guns had been loaded alternately with two 
 round shot and a keg containing one hundred and 
 fifty musket balls, and a round shot with a double- 
 headed shot on top of it. The destruction from the 
 first fire was appalling. Captain Lawrence, glanc- 
 
96 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ing along his decks, saw a cloud of splinters, ham- 
 mocks, and other wreckage sweep across, mingled 
 with men, killed and wounded. 
 
 Something struck him a sharp blow in the leg, 
 above the knee, leaving a dull, beating pain where 
 it had hit. He looked down and saw the blood 
 come sopping through his breeches about a hole. 
 One of the musket balls had found him. His leg 
 grew weak in an instant, but he leaned against the 
 companionway and watched the fight, giving direc- 
 tions. 
 
 They told him that his sailing-master had been 
 killed by the first broadside. He saw Lieutenant 
 Ludlow reeling, and saw two spots of blood on his 
 clothing ; he saw wounded men crawling and being 
 dragged below to the cockpit. 
 
 The Chesapeake answered with a roar. Both ships 
 were in full action. The air was beaten with loud 
 sound. The small boats that had come out to see 
 the fight, cruising about at a distance, saw the first 
 few flashes, and then a dense cloud of yellow smoke 
 concealed all but the tops of the masts, where the 
 sails hung loosely as the two ships surged side by 
 side in mortal combat. 
 
 Well did the cask-shooting of the British gunners 
 stand them in stead that day. Their shots tore 
 through the sides of the Chesapeake, sweeping men 
 from their guns, tearing them, hurling them across 
 the decks before a swarm of spinning slivers. The 
 ends of severed ropes came swirling down from the 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP I " 97 
 
 rigging, to hang in long, swinging slireds, useless, 
 tangling with the rigging that still stood. 
 
 The American gunners were not all sullen and 
 laggards. Tliey fired as fast and as hard as they 
 could in the face of the storm that was sweeping 
 destruction down upon them, and their shots were 
 not without effect. One of them, passing in at a 
 gun-port on the Shannoii, disabled the gun, broke 
 the leg of the captain of the gun, and narrowly 
 missed Captain Broke, who was stepping over the 
 gun chain at the moment. 
 
 The speed at which the Chesapeake had come up 
 was beginning to carry her ahead of the enemy. 
 Captain Lawrence, leaning against the companion- 
 way to ease his wounded leg, saw it, and ordered 
 the sails to be backed. But the sailing-master was 
 dead, and the rigging was shot so badly that the 
 mancEUvre could not be carried out. In the attempt 
 the vessel swung into the wind, and went drifting 
 down toward the Shanno7t, stern on. 
 
 Now the English poured in a murderous fire. 
 The stern guns on the Shannon raked the Chesapeake 
 from stern to stem ; the forward guns cross-fired her 
 deck. In the tops English marines, armed with 
 muskets and hand-grenades, picked off the gunners. 
 Three men had already been shot from the wheel of 
 the Chesapeake. 
 
 The two vessels came together, the stern of the 
 Chesapeake grinding against the sides of the Shannon 
 just forward of the main chains. The stern-ports 
 
98 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 of the American were beaten in ; men were deserting 
 her guns. The Portuguese boatswain's mate was 
 nowhere to be seen. 
 
 " Call up the boarders !" cried Captain Lawrence, 
 seeing a chance to carry the enemy by storm when 
 the two vessels came together. 
 
 The British marines were pouring in a killing hail 
 of lead from their ranged muskets. 
 
 Where was the bugler, to sound the bugle call for 
 the boarders ? Midshipmen ran to look for him ; it 
 was the negro George for whom they searched ; he 
 who had been in the group with the Portuguese 
 before the fight, whose friend had told him he was 
 going to Halifax. 
 
 They did not find him< At a word from Lawrence, 
 midshipmen and lieutenants ran to call up the 
 boarders by word of mouth. Running here and 
 there, they found George, the negro bugler, hiding 
 under the stern of the launch. They dragged him 
 out ; he was pale with fear. " Sound the call ! " they 
 cried. 
 
 He put the bugle to his lips, and blew, but only a 
 feeble sound came from the instrument ; the man was 
 too frightened to blow it. 
 
 Lieutenant Law of the Shannon's marines, looking 
 through a rift in the smoke, saw the white vest of 
 Captain Lawrence, where he leaned against the 
 companionway, waiting for the boarders to come up 
 that he might lead them aboard the enemy. He 
 snatched a gun from a marine, aimed it, and fired. 
 
^ 
 
 o 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 99 
 
 Captain Lawrence crumpled up and fell to the deck. 
 Lieutenant Ludlow, mortally hurt, saw him sink, and 
 sobbed. 
 
 Strong arms raised the commander. He was shot 
 through the abdomen. His arms hung limp as they 
 carried him below ; his head swung from side to side 
 with their steps. 
 
 The fire slackened. Captain Lawrence raised his 
 lids ; his lips moved. " Tell the men to fire faster ! " 
 he said, in steady voice. " Fight her till she sinks or 
 strikes. Don't give up the ship 1 " 
 
 Here and there men on the decks of the Chesapeake 
 were sneaking away and stealing down below, out 
 of the murderous draft of iron and lead that was 
 rushing through the ship. There was no one forward 
 to command the gunners ; their guns ceased speak- 
 ing. There was no one anywhere to give command. 
 Everything was helter-skelter. 
 
 They laid the stricken American on a cot in the 
 cockpit ; surgeons hovered over him, knowing from 
 the first that he was beyond aid. His face was pale, 
 but his jaw was set firmly. " Keep the guns going ! " 
 he ordered. " Fight her till she strikes or sinks. 
 Don't give up the ship ! " 
 
 Boatswain Stevens, of the Shannon, appeared at 
 her main chains with lashings. He leaned out, and 
 cast them about a stanchion on the Chesapeake. A 
 half dozen cutlasses bit deeply into his arm. He 
 made the lashings fast ; his arm fell into the sea as 
 he finished lashing the vessels together. 
 
loo BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The flukes of an anchor hanging from the sides of 
 the Shannon caught in one of the Chesapeake' s 
 ports ; the two vessels were bound tight. 
 
 " Don't give up the ship ! " rang the voice of 
 Captain Lavi^rence, down in the cockpit. The pain 
 from his wound was creeping over him ; his senses 
 were swinging out of him. " Don't give up the 
 ship ! Don't give up the ship !" he murmured. 
 
 Captain Broke, seeing the confusion on board the 
 American vessel, and perceiving that the enemy was 
 not going to board, ordered the marines to follow 
 him. A hand-grenade, dropped by a man from the 
 yard-arm of the Shanno7i, fell in an arm chest on the 
 quarter-deck of the Chesapeake. There was a flash, 
 a report, and the air was filled with flying debris. 
 The Americans on the quarter-deck, having no one to 
 lead them, scattered. The Portuguese boatswain's 
 mate beckoned them below. 
 
 " Boarders away ! " cried Captain Broke, and 
 leaped aboard, followed by a handful of marines. 
 
 Those below did not know the enemy had 
 boarded ; they did not know anything that was 
 going on above. The ship was in disorder ; it was 
 a body without brains. 
 
 Some few turned to meet the advancing English- 
 men. But the crew for the most part ran from their 
 guns, and sought safety below. Leading them to 
 refuge was the Portuguese boatswain's mate. 
 "We'll teach t'em to cheat us of our prize money ! " 
 he snarled, as he ran away. 
 
"DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP!" loi 
 
 Bright through the air flashed the sword of the 
 EngHsh captain. Mr. Livermore, chaplain of the 
 Chesapeake^ stood almost alone to oppose him. He 
 advanced, fire flashing from his eyes. In his hand 
 was a pistol. He aimed it at Broke, and pulled. The 
 ball went wild. In the next instant, the Toledo 
 blade in the hands of the Englishman described a 
 flashing arc through the air and descended toward 
 the chaplain's head. He raised an arm and fended 
 it off, but the steel bit deeply, and he reeled to the 
 deck under the force of the blow. 
 
 The noise of scuffling feet came to the ears of the 
 American captain, lying mortally wounded in the 
 cockpit. "Fire faster!" he said faintly. "Don't 
 give up the ship ! " 
 
 Some one told him that the enemy had carried 
 the quarter-deck. He struggled to raise himself on 
 the bed, but sank back, shot with a sudden increase 
 of pain. "Then the officers of the deck haven't 
 toed the mark ! " he cried, his voice stronger for a 
 moment. " The Shannon was whipped when I left 
 the deck ! " His eyelids fluttered and closed. He 
 twisted with a spasm of pain, and sank back, relax- 
 ing. " Don't give up the ship ! " he murmured. 
 " Don't give up the ship ! " The anguish had stripped 
 the sense from his body but the thoughts of his 
 soul were fixed on that : " Don't give up the ship ! " 
 
 Captain Broke, at the head of his men, rushed for- 
 ward along the main-deck and gangways. The 
 American marines fought back, but were pushed 
 
I02 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 away. Up in the foretop of the Chesapeake a band 
 of them were firing down on the boarders. A can- 
 non on the Shannon, loaded with cannister, was 
 lifted and shouted out at them. The murderous 
 charge shrieked through the air, and the top was 
 thenceforth silent. 
 
 " Don't give up the ship ! " murmured the voice 
 of the stricken man in the cockpit. 
 
 Back in Boston, two young lads were listening to 
 the distant muffled roar of the fight, thinking of their 
 father as they had last seen him, tall, straight, clear- 
 eyed, brave, noble, a father to be proud of. They 
 fancied that they saw him now on the quarter-deck, 
 guiding the ship to victory ; they saw the humbled 
 English captain handing him his sword in token of 
 surrender. They heard in their thoughts the hur- 
 rahs of the American sailors as the British flag came 
 down from the ensign-gaff. With hands clutching 
 each other, they dreamed of the honor and glory 
 that their father would bring back. 
 
 And back in Boston the man with whom Captain 
 Lawrence had eaten breakfast that morning was 
 opening a message that had just come, addressed to 
 the captain. It had been brought there from Cap- 
 tain Broke by an American sailor who had been a 
 prisoner on the Shanjioft, and had been liberated to 
 carry the message. " As the Chesapeake now 
 appears to be ready for sea," the letter read, " I 
 request you will do me the honor to meet the Shan- 
 non with her, ship to ship, to try the fortunes of our 
 
"DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP!" 103 
 
 respective flags. To an officer of your character, it 
 requires some apology for proceeding to further 
 particulars. Be assured, sir, it is not from any doubt 
 I can entertain of your wishing to close with my 
 proposal, but merely to provide an answer to any 
 objection which might be made, and very reason- 
 ably, upon the chance of our receiving any unfair 
 support." The letter went on to assure Captain Law- 
 rence that all other British vessels would be sent away 
 before the day of combat. There was added a care- 
 ful statement of the strength of the Shannon, that 
 Lawrence might understand that the ships were 
 fairly matched. 
 
 " What a pity, what a pity ! " sighed the man. 
 " If Lawrence had only had this before he left, he 
 might have set a day for the fight without compro- 
 mising his honor, and have prepared himself better for 
 it." And the man shook his head sadly, with a pre- 
 monition that the day was going badly with his 
 friend. 
 
 Up to the forecastle dashed the British marines, 
 Captain Broke at their head. As they were press- 
 ing across the deck, Lieutenant Cox, who had just 
 heard that the enemy was aboard, came up from 
 below, and fell in with them, not knowing in the con- 
 fusion which were friends and which were enemies. 
 He soon learned, for they hacked at him with their 
 cutlasses. But when he looked for friends with 
 whom he could rally to meet the onslaught, he saw 
 none. The deck was deserted. He only saw, 
 
I04 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 through a hatchway, the rascally Portuguese boat- 
 swain's mate opening the main hatch and letting 
 some British marines down into the hold. 
 
 " Don't give up the ship ! " broke from the lips of 
 the dying man in the cockpit. 
 
 Now the two ships broke apart and drifted away 
 from each other. If Lawrence had been there, if the 
 sailing-master had not been killed, if there had been 
 any one to lead, they might even now have conquered, 
 for the English captain was on board with only 
 a few marines behind him, and they could have 
 taken him captive. But there was no one to lead. 
 Lieutenant Ludlow had long since gone below, over- 
 come by his wounds ; Lieutenant Cox was confused 
 and hopeless, and the brave soul that would have 
 risen above the situation lay down in the cockpit, 
 breathing : " Don't give up the ship 1 Don't give 
 up the ship 1 " 
 
 A little knot of sturdy defenders still stood on the 
 forecastle, braving the oncoming English. They 
 rushed upon the conquerors with the fury of desper- 
 ate men. For a moment the advance was held 
 back ; in the next Broke himself overbore the de- 
 fense, dashing headlong into the struggle. With 
 one sweep of his Toledo he cut down the first who 
 opposed him, but the next hewed his cutlass through 
 the skull of the Englishman, clear to the brain. 
 
 Broke fell ; the blade had stopped a thirty-second 
 of an inch short of taking his life at once. Beside 
 him fell an American seaman, dying of a wound. 
 
" DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " 105 
 
 The two grappled. Weak with the loss of blood 
 and the shock of their wounds, their struggle was 
 feeble, but they were intent on each other's death. 
 The American, with a last rally of his ebbing 
 strength, got on top of the English captain, picked 
 up a bayonet, and was gathering strength to press 
 it home, when an English marine came up. 
 
 The marine, in the excitement of the encounter, 
 was about to thrust his bayonet through the body 
 of his own commander, when Broke called out, 
 " Pooh, pooh, you fool ! Don't you know your 
 captain ? " And the fellow, changing the direction 
 of his blow, slew the American as he was swinging 
 his raised bayonet for the fatal stroke. 
 
 Down below in the cockpit the proud soul of 
 James Lawrence was murmuring : " Don't give up 
 the ship ! Don't give up the ship ! " 
 
 And they did not give up the ship, in a sense. 
 There was no one left to give it up. The British 
 simply took possession. Lieutenant Watt of the 
 British marines went and pulled down the ensign. 
 As he did so a shot from the Shannon killed him. 
 Some on board thought the Chesapeake was still an 
 American ship, and some thought that it had be- 
 come a British ship. Here men were still fighting ; 
 there they had ceased and were talking it over, 
 captor and prisoner. 
 
 Sam went to Halifax, as his negro friend had 
 prophesied he would when he left the wharf at Boston 
 
io6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 to go aboard the frigate. James Lawrence died on 
 the passage thither, and Captain Broke hovered 
 between Hfe and death. He finally recovered and 
 lived to enjoy immense fame and popularity in 
 England as the only man who had captured a Yankee 
 war-ship. 
 
 Halifax went in mourning for the death of Captain 
 Lawrence, whose treatment of the Peacock^ s crew had 
 won for him the regard of the people there. His 
 body was interred in Halifax, but six weeks later was 
 brought to Boston and carried thence to New York, 
 where it found a final resting-place in Trinity church- 
 yard. 
 
 This is the inscription on his tomb ; you may see 
 it for yourself when you go to New York. 
 
 " Neither the fury of battle, the anguish of a mortal 
 wound, nor the horrors of approaching death could 
 subdue his gallant spirit. His dying words were : 
 ' Don't give up the ship ! ' " 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 
 
 Alexander Perry had forgotten the dignity 
 that becomes a young man of twelve years about to 
 enter the United States navy as midshipman and 
 was dancing about the floor of his father's house 
 in unrestrained glee. " Whooppee 1 " he shouted, 
 and "Whurroooo!" 
 
 The cause of young Alexander's excitement was 
 his big brother Oliver Hazard Perry. Oliver was 
 the sort of brother that would excite any proper 
 young man to enthusiasm. He was a sailor, and a 
 lieutenant in the navy ; he had fought Frenchmen in 
 the West Indies and Turks on the Barbary Coast ; he 
 had built gunboats, and had been in a wreck. Now, 
 although he was only twenty-seven years old, he 
 was on his way to take command of the American 
 naval force in Lake Erie and have a fight with the 
 British fleet that was cruising up and down there at 
 will. 
 
 But more than all this — he was going to take his 
 brother Alexander along with him and let him help 
 fight the Englishmen. That was surely enough to 
 set any boy prancing and leaping about the floor of 
 his father's house, I should fancy. 
 
io8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Hush, hush, Alexander," his father was saying 
 from time to time as he talked things over with 
 Lieutenant Oliver. " Don't make such a noise," 
 
 A father would have to say that to a prancing 
 boy, no matter how proud he might be of the spirit 
 which his son was showing. With Oliver it w^as 
 different. Not being the boy's father, he could smile 
 quite frankly, and he did so. Oliver had arrived 
 that afternoon from Newport, where he had been in 
 command of the fleet of gunboats. He was on his 
 way to Sackett's Harbor, to report to Commodore 
 Chauncey, in command on Lake Ontario, and 
 Lieutenant Perry's superior. 
 
 " I feel like hopping about myself," said Oliver, 
 watching Alexander, who was gradually hushing, 
 under the reproof of his father, " I had begun to 
 think that every one was going to have a chance in 
 this war but myself." Perry had waited for a long 
 time for a command to go to sea, but, until his ap- 
 pointment to Lake Erie, the best that he got was a 
 flotilla of gunboats at Newport. 
 
 " You've got a task on your hands, my boy," said 
 Christopher Perry, the father. He was an old salt ; 
 he had commanded the General Greeney a frigate of 
 the navy. 
 
 " I know it, father," replied Oliver. 
 
 " What's your force ? " 
 
 " We haven't any," replied the young lieutenant, 
 with a shrug of the shoulders. "Two brigs and 
 three gunboats are building at Erie, and there are 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 109 
 
 some vessels at the navy yard at Black Rock, above 
 Buffalo, but they are bottled up there by the British 
 at Fort George. We've still to build our ships." 
 
 '• Yes, and fit them out," rejoined his father. " I 
 don't speak to discourage you, my boy, but I want 
 to prepare you for disappointments. You are so 
 overjoyed to get the command that I am afraid you 
 will not stop to think of all you must do." 
 
 " I think I know what is called for, father," re- 
 turned Oliver, modestly. 
 
 " I have perfect faith in you, lad," said the man. 
 *' You have a chance to win fame and renown, and 
 do your country a great service," he went on. " If 
 you win against the odds, and I know you will, you 
 will have nothing to wish for from your country, and 
 from posterity. When you have wiped the British 
 off Lake Erie, General Harrison can march into 
 Canada without trouble, and we shall regain the 
 northwest territory, lost to us by the surrender of 
 Hull at Detroit. It is a glorious chance, my boy, 
 and I rejoice with you." 
 
 Lieutenant Perry's eyes danced with enthusiasm. 
 He got up from his chair and paced the floor, 
 which was his way of prancing. " There's lots to be 
 done, father, I know," he said, " but I am going to 
 do it. I am going to drive the British fleet off the 
 lake if it costs me my life I I have got to begin 
 with the building of a fleet. Then I must get rig- 
 ging and stores and guns and powder and ball ; and 
 then I must get men. I don't know where any of 
 
no BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 them are coming from, but I'll get them, and 
 
 then " He finished with a look of eagerness as 
 
 he paced up and down. 
 
 " When are you going ? " said his father. 
 
 " Now ; right away," answered the young lieuten- 
 ant. In an hour he and Alexander were on the 
 road. 
 
 The father's home was in Lebanon, Connecticut, 
 about half-way between Newport, Rhode Island, 
 and Hartford. It was late in February ; the weather 
 was cold, and the roads wretched. The two com- 
 panions had a hard time of it to Hartford, where 
 they got into the post road to Albany and got along 
 easier. 
 
 Commodore Chauncey was waiting at Albany for 
 Lieutenant Perry. Chauncey was in command of 
 the naval forces on the Great Lakes ; Perry was under 
 him. He had a fleet on Lake Ontario, with which 
 he was playing hide-and-seek with a British fleet. 
 Chauncey's station was at Sackett's Harbor. 
 
 Perry and his brother reached Sackett's Harbor on 
 the third of March. There was noise in the air of 
 an attack by the British, and Perry was detained 
 with Chauncey until the sixteenth of March. On the 
 twenty-fourth he was at Buffalo. The next day he 
 spent in the navy yard at Black Point, where were 
 several vessels that he wanted to use on Lake Ene ; 
 among them the Caledojtia, which had been captured 
 from the British by Lieutenant Elliott. But the 
 boats were bottled up there by the English Fort 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE in 
 
 George, farther up the river, between them and the 
 lake. 
 
 ' Leaving Buffalo on the twenty-sixth, he drove in a 
 sleigh across the frozen lake to Erie. Erie lay at the 
 end of a long bay behind Presque Isle. At the 
 mouth of the bay was a bar which could not be 
 crossed by vessels drawing more than six or seven 
 feet. The bar made the bay a safe place in which 
 to build ships, because the British fleet could not sail 
 in and destroy them on the ways. In the same way, 
 the bar would be just as difficult for the American 
 boats to pass going out. But that was borrowing 
 trouble ; the American boats were not yet finished. 
 
 Erie was a dreary looking place when Lieutenant 
 Oliver Perry and his brother Alexander reached it 
 on the twenty-seventh of March. A few cabins and 
 a house or two was all. Behind the place were wind- 
 swept stretches of low hills, covered with scattered 
 growth of oak and chestnut, with some pines here and 
 there. A March wind howled through the place, 
 swirling up the snow. 
 
 Down by the beach was Perry's fleet. Three 
 small gunboats were nearing completion ; Alexander, 
 staring at them through the cold, could see that they 
 would soon be boats. But the two brigs on which 
 the Americans must place their greatest reliance were 
 nothing but two long timbers of thick wood bristling 
 with the stubby beginnings of ribs. For the rest, the 
 fleet was still growing in the forests on the surround- 
 ing knolls. 
 
112 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Lieutenant Perry found Noah Brown. Noah 
 Brown was a shipwright from New York. He was 
 in charge of the building of the fleet. He was 
 standing on the Iceel of one of the brigs, one out- 
 stretched hand resting against the stem, consulting 
 with a carpenter, when the two approached. Only 
 a few men were at work, and they did not seem to 
 be accomplishing much. There were great dis- 
 ordered piles of timbers of all sorts and sizes lying 
 about. Nearer the woods some men were sawing 
 away at felled trees. The sound of chopping came 
 from the hills. 
 
 " It's Lieutenant Perry ? " said Brown, holding out 
 a mittened paw. 
 
 " Mr. Brown, you are doing well," replied the 
 young officer, shaking hands, and glancing around 
 at the work under way. 
 
 Brown stiffened and brightened in pride. " Fairly 
 well, lieutenant," he admitted. " Especially when 
 you think as how all this here timber was growing in 
 the ground not so far back in point of time. Last 
 fall, I might say." 
 
 " You are doing very well," returned Lieutenant 
 Perry, taking in the entire view with his eyes. " Have 
 you heard anything of the enemy ? Have they tried 
 to disturb you ? " 
 
 Mr. Brown stated that they had not been bothered 
 by the British. 
 
 "You are all ready for them, I suppose," Perry 
 went on. 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 113 
 
 " By that you mean — what? " asked Brown. 
 
 " You are ready to defend the ship-yard from an 
 attack." 
 
 Mr. Brown shook his head. "That's not my 
 line," he said. " I'm not in the fighting line, my- 
 self. That's for the likes of you to do." 
 
 "We'll do it, then," returned Perry, good-na- 
 turedly. " You have some cannon that we could 
 mount, of course. I shall prepare a defense of the 
 place." 
 
 " Cannon ! " exclaimed Brown. " Why, lieutenant, 
 we haven't so much as a dozen muskets hereabouts, 
 excepting what the people of the town and country 
 have of their own." 
 
 Perry turned a look of quick surprise on him. 
 " You don't mean that they have set you to work on 
 a fleet of ships and have not made any provision 
 against the British coming in and destroying the 
 work?" 
 
 " That's what I say, and that's what I mean. Lieu- 
 tenant Perry." 
 
 " Are there any men living here?" 
 
 "Some." 
 
 Perry thought for a moment. " What have you 
 here in the way of rigging and stores, and so forth, 
 Mr. Brown ? " he enquired. 
 
 " Not a rope yarn, sir," returned the shipwright. 
 
 " Is there any on the way?" 
 
 Brown spread his hands. " There may be some- 
 thing started from Pittsburg," he ventured. " They'd 
 
114 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 better be about it, too," he went on. " Give me 
 time, and I might make rope and sails out of nothin' 
 as I've made the craft themselves," 
 
 " How long will it take to get things from Pitts- 
 burg, provided they have started?" 
 
 Mr. Brown made another gesture with his arms. 
 " Lieutenant," he said, " it's five hundred mile from 
 here to Pittsburg. You could pick your road by the 
 wagons you'll find stuck in the mud between here 
 and there. The weather is coming on soft now 
 pretty soon, and when the snow begins to go you 
 won't know whether it'll be easier to sail our craft to 
 Pittsburg for their outfit or to get here with wagons ; 
 that's what I'm sayin', lieutenant. We haven't so 
 much as a marlinspike, let alone cannon ; and we've 
 got to get sails, ropes, cannon, muskets, powder and 
 balls, and all the rest over that five hundred mile of 
 mud before we can have a fleet ; and that's sayin' 
 truth. But that isn't my part. I'm here to build 
 the ships, and build them I will, if they lie and rot 
 on the ways afterward." 
 
 Perry smiled, for all that a cloud of trouble passed 
 over his face. " That's right, Brown," he said. 
 "You build the ships, and I'll see that they don't 
 rot on the ways." 
 
 " I rather think you will," said Mr. Brown, after a 
 long look into the eyes of the young officer. "" I 
 rather think you will, lieutenant." 
 
 Lieutenant Perry walked off with a look of de- 
 cision in his eyes. That night fifty men from the 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 115 
 
 neighborhood had been enrolled as militia for the 
 defense of the Erie ship-yard. One man was on his 
 way to Pittsburg with a request to the navy agent 
 there to hurry up a party of shipwrights who were 
 on the way from Philadelphia. Sailing-master Dob- 
 bins was cutting off across the ice toward Buffalo to 
 bring back forty men, with muskets and powder, 
 and, if the ice would hold, with some cannon. That 
 was the beginning of Perry's victory of Lake 
 Erie. 
 
 And the days that followed were just as much a 
 part of the last triumph as the one particular bit of 
 cool heroism that lifted the final eventful day to a 
 height in history that, like a mountain peak, does 
 not seem to grow less as we pass from it down the 
 grove of time. There were trees to be cut from the 
 forests and sawed into timbers for the ships ; there 
 were all the many furnishings of war vessels to be 
 brought from Pittsburg ; there were stores to be col- 
 lected, and men to be gathered for the work of build- 
 ing the ships, and of manning them after they had 
 been built. 
 
 Perry, even tempered, good-humored, full of spirit 
 and determination, always thinking of the right 
 thing to do and doing it, threw a force into the task 
 that gradually brought it to completion. He never 
 tired ; he never grew discouraged ; he constantly 
 heartened every one about him. Sometimes the 
 oak and the chestnut wood that was standing in the 
 tree in the morning was pegged to the ribs of the 
 
ii6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 brigs by night. Alexander Perry scurried through 
 the country collecting all manner of iron scraps from 
 farmers and roadside blacksmiths to eke out the 
 scanty supply of that metal. The country was 
 combed for blacksmiths. Perry himself made a trip 
 to Pittsburg to hurry things along. 
 
 While the work was progressing word came that 
 Chauncey was going to attack Fort George. Perry 
 hastened to join him. If Fort George could be 
 taken, the vessels bottled up at Black Point might 
 be brought down to Erie. Of course, they might 
 fall into the hands of the British while on the way 
 from Buffalo, but the chance was worth taking. 
 
 Perry had difficulty in getting to Buffalo, but he 
 arrived there at last, in time to take part in the cap- 
 ture of the fort. It took him more than two weeks 
 to get back to Erie with the boats. He was a fort- 
 night in dragging them up the river from Black 
 Point to Buffalo. Oxen, sailors, and two hundred 
 soldiers laid their shoulders to the ropes. 
 
 The trip from Buffalo to Erie was exciting. The 
 British fleet was watching for them. But Perry 
 reached his port all right. When he got there he 
 found the two brigs and three gunboats in the 
 water. Noah Brown had prepared a little surprise 
 for him by launching them. 
 
 The brigs were launched while the country was 
 still echoing with the heroism of James Lawrence, 
 who had died on the Chesapeake after a gallant fight 
 against the Shatinon, in the previous April. In 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 117 
 
 honor of him one of the brigs was called the Lawrence. 
 The other was christened Niagara. 
 
 It was then late in May. By the sixth of June the 
 boats were ready for a fight ; but there was no one 
 to fight them. There were not men enough to fully 
 man one of the brigs alone. One-fifth of those at 
 Erie were sick. Perry himself was ill. A lake fever, 
 laying hold of the young lieutenant when he was 
 worn out with work and worry, had dragged him to 
 the edge of a serious illness and threatened to topple 
 him over. 
 
 He would not be toppled. His work was only be* 
 ginning. He must get men. The British fleet un- 
 der Barclay was sailing up and down the lake ; 
 Harrison's army was threatened with defeat, if not 
 destruction, as long as the English controlled the 
 lake. Barclay was only waiting for the completion 
 of another vessel which would give him a force 
 nearly equal to what Perry could muster, now that 
 he had the five vessels from Black Rock. Every- 
 thing pointed to the need for haste. 
 
 The weeks that followed were the most trying 
 through which Lieutenant Perry passed. He bat- 
 tered Chauncey and the Secretary of the Navy for 
 men. Chauncey kept the best of the men that were 
 sent forward from the States, and passed on to Perry 
 remnants and scraps. Perry complained. Chaun- 
 cey replied in sarcastic vein. Perry was hurt, and 
 wanted to be assigned to another station. The Sec- 
 retary of the Navy prevailed on him to remain at 
 
ii8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Erie. Men continued to come in driblets. Now 
 and then the British fleet showed up beyond the bar. 
 
 Perry watched Barclay closely. He could not 
 cross the bar as long as the Englishman was near. 
 It was going to be necessary to lift the two brigs 
 over with floats. While they were being lifted, they 
 would be helpless against the enemy. If Barclay 
 should attack during the operation, there was a 
 chance that all the work since March would come to 
 nothing ; to less than nothing. For, if Barclay held 
 control of the lake, Harrison's army would be in 
 great danger, and the northwest would be lost to the 
 United States. 
 
 Barclay had been off and on the bar for a week or 
 more, when one day Alexander Perry came running 
 to his brother and told him the British fleet had 
 vanished. Although he was sick with his fever. 
 Lieutenant Perry set to work at once. The gunboats 
 crossed easily enough ; but the brigs drew nine feet of 
 water, and there were just four feet on the bar that 
 day. 
 
 Noah Brown had made a couple of large floats to 
 fit the brigs. One of the brigs, the Lawrence, was 
 brought to the bar. The guns were whipped out to 
 lighten her. Three of them were mounted ashore. 
 The floats were veered alongside, filled with water, 
 and sunk to the bottom. Timbers were placed 
 through the ports of the brig, resting on the top of 
 the sunken floats. Then the water was pumped out. 
 As the floats arose, they lifted the brig. At least, 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 119 
 
 they were supposed to. As a matter of fact, they 
 only half Hfted her. The sick man was busy from the 
 morning of August second until the evening of August 
 fourth, without sleep or rest, before the Lawre7tce 
 was in deep water outside. The Niagara, the other 
 of the brigs, was brought over more easily on the 
 fifth. 
 
 When Barclay showed up he found the entire 
 American fleet ready for sea. His new vessel had 
 not joined him, and he put about and made for 
 Maiden, on the north shore of the lake, followed by 
 Perry. 
 
 Perry was still destitute of men, and he had not 
 one officer of experience, although he had been on 
 the station five months, and had been asking for men 
 and officers all that time. His right hand man was 
 a sailing-master, Taylor. 
 
 In a few days Lieutenant Jesse D. Elliott arrived, 
 bringing with him several officers and eighty men. 
 Perry's ships still needed many more, but the young 
 lieutenant was hopeless of getting them, and set out 
 up the lake on the twelfth of August with what he 
 had. He entered Put-in-Bay, where he was brought 
 down with a violent attack of the fever that had been 
 haggling him for a long time. He was ill for several 
 days. 
 
 While he was ill, General Harrison sent one hun- 
 dred soldiers to help out the fleet. Perry got on deck 
 again on September first, still weak and suffering, and 
 started for Maiden. Although Barclay had been 
 
I20 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 joined by the Detroit, he would not come out and 
 fight, beUeving that the American force was still 
 greater than his ; as, in fact, it was. So Perry went 
 back to Put-in-Bay to wait. 
 
 At the entrance of Put-in-Bay there is a high rock 
 rising from the lake, at the edge of an island. Perry 
 spent much of his time on the top of this rock, look- 
 ing for the British fleet. He was infornaed that Gen- 
 eral Proctor, the English military officer, was getting 
 hungry, and wanted Barclay to sail down to Long 
 Point and bring up provisions for the army. He 
 therefore expected any moment to see the white sails 
 of the enemy sliding across the breast of the lake. 
 
 The rock is still called Perry's Lookout. 
 
 It was sunrise on the morning of September lo, 1813. 
 There had been a rain early in the morning, and a 
 wavering mist hung over the lake. No one was on 
 the rock ; it was too early in the day. But there was 
 a man on the lookout of each of the brigs. 
 
 Now and then the faint breeze from the southwest 
 tore the mist apart, flinging ribbons of it into the 
 air, opening vistas through it for a time, or spread- 
 ing it in broad sheets close to the surface of the 
 water. 
 
 Alexander Perry, midshipman on the Laivrence, 
 which was his brother's flag-ship, was on deck early. 
 He had come out when it was still raining, and had 
 watched the first breaking of the dawn in the east. 
 He was walking restlessly up and down the deck, 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 121 
 
 waiting- for his brother to arise. Oliver had been 
 feeling very bad the night before, suffering from his 
 ■lake fever, and the younger Perry was worried about 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly the man on the lookout sang out : 
 "Sail ho!" 
 
 " Where away ? " shouted Alexander. 
 
 " Bearing northwest, hull down ; a number of sail, 
 sir, looking like the fleet of the enemy, sir," came 
 from the lookout. 
 
 The sail were invisible from the deck, because of 
 the mist, which was just then hanging low on the 
 water. Alexander did not stop to see for himself 
 from the rigging, but made off as fast as his legs 
 could take him to report to Oliver. 
 
 " I have the honor, sir, to report that the enemy is 
 in sight, bearing northwest," he said. They were 
 not brothers then ; they were officers on the same 
 ship merely. 
 
 Lieutenant Perry had been lying in his berth with 
 staring eyes and a beating headache. His limbs 
 had refused to respond to his will to arise, and he 
 had made up his mind to spend a part of the day, at 
 least, in bed ; for the fever was on him. The word 
 brought by his midshipman brought him to his feet 
 in a leap. He forgot his beating head ; he forgot 
 the fever that was rasping his skin. Dressing hur- 
 riedly, he went on deck, ordered sail made, and set 
 signals for the fleet to follow into action. His day 
 had come. 
 
122 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The little fleet that sailed out of Put-in-Bay that 
 morning in 1813 consisted of the two brigs, theLaze/- 
 rence and the Niagara, that had been built at Erie, 
 the brig Caledofiia, captured by Lieutenant Elliott and 
 brought from Black Rock, the schooner gunboats 
 Arielf Scorpion^ and Porcupine^ that had been built with 
 the brigs at Erie, and the Somers, T/gress and Trippe^ 
 brought with the Caledonia from Black Rock. Two 
 stout brigs in all, one other brig, and six schooners, 
 armed indifferently. Opposed to them the British 
 had two ships, the Detroit and the Queen Charlotte^ 
 of about equal strength with the Lawrence and the 
 Niagara, one vessel, the Himter, which was not a 
 match for the Caledonia, and three schooners. The 
 British had the advantage in long range guns, but 
 not in number of pieces or weight of metal. 
 
 The night before Perry had called all the officers 
 together on board the Lazcrence and given them in- 
 structions for the engagement which he expected 
 soon to take place. The instructions were in writ- 
 ing. They told the officers the order of battle, and 
 assigned to each ship the enemy's vessel that that 
 ship was to take care of in the coming fight. The 
 Niagara was to handle the Queen Charlotte, and the 
 Lazvrence the Detroit, which was Barclay's flag-ship. 
 Two schooners, the Scorpioti and the Ariel, were to 
 proceed ahead of the line of battle to support the 
 Lazvrence. The Caledofiia was to follow the Lazv- 
 rence and the Niagara the Caledonia. Behind them 
 the schooners were to range. Each vessel was or- 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 123 
 
 dered to keep half a cable length from the one ahead 
 of it. But as a final instruction, and one to govern 
 all situations, Perry told his officers, in the words of 
 Admiral Nelson, " If you lay your enemy close along- 
 side, you cannot be out of your place." 
 
 Put-in-Bay is among islands that range, in a gen- 
 eral way, northwest and southeast. The wind was 
 southwest, and light. Perry wanted to get to the 
 windward of the enemy ; that was always an advan- 
 tage in a sailing ship fight. For that purpose he 
 tried to beat out between the islands, but the wind 
 was too light. He gave the order to wear ship and 
 pass to the leeward of the islands. 
 
 " You will engage your enemy from to leeward, 
 sir," suggested Sailing-master Taylor. 
 
 " To windward or to leeward, they shall fight to- 
 day," rejoined Lieutenant Perry, compressing his 
 lips. 
 
 The hours that followed were trying hours for him. 
 The fever racked him. It was like something gnaw- 
 ing at all the joints of his body, and his head swam 
 in pain. By sheer force of will he kept it under, and 
 stood up for the fight that was to come. 
 
 Going into his cabin, he came back with a bunch 
 of blue bunting hanging over his arm. He called 
 the crew, and spread out the bunting. It was a flag, 
 bearing on it, painted in white, the words with which 
 James Lawrence died : " Don't Give Up the Ship." 
 He had shown it to the officers in his cabin the night 
 before, when he called them in for their orders. 
 
124 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Shall I put it up ? " he asked his men on the flag- 
 ship. 
 
 Their answer was a cheer, and the flag went to 
 the maintopgallantmast head. 
 
 The mists vanished, and the day turned clear and 
 warm ; a beautiful day of the late summer. The lake 
 sparkled under the gentle breeze that puffed across 
 it ; the wooded shores of the islands brought their 
 green to mingle with the lighter green of the sur- 
 rounding water. Above bent a sky of perfect blue. 
 And white on the breast of the running waters of the 
 lake rode the ships of the two fleets. 
 
 Alexander Perry followed his brother up and 
 down the deck. Lieutenant Perry encouraged his 
 men. They were a motley lot. Some of them were 
 good sailors and fighting men ; some of them 
 had been on the Constitution, and some had 
 come with Perry from Newport. Others were farm 
 lads or soldiers ; little more than boys, many of them. 
 There were a number of negroes. But since he had 
 brought them together Lieutenant Perry had been 
 training them in the manual of fighting, until now 
 they knew what was expected of them. And the 
 men loved the young fellow that had taken control 
 of them. 
 
 By good luck, as they were beating up toward 
 the enemy, sailing full and by, the wind hauled 
 to the southwest, giving them a fair breeze. It was 
 still sluggish, but favorable. 
 
 The British fleet, ranged in a long line across the 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 125 
 
 water, its sails gleaming in the sunlight, was a beauti- 
 ful sight as the American squadron approached. 
 Middy Perry, standing on the forecastle, could see 
 the black guns thrust out of the ports and the men 
 crawling about the vessels. Standing there he heard 
 the blast of a bugle on the Detroit calling the crew 
 to quarters. His heart bounded ; the fight was 
 almost on. It was not long before there was a puff 
 of smoke from the sides of the Detroit and a ball 
 came bounding over the waves, too short in flight to 
 strike the Lawrence. Soon there was another shot, 
 and this one tore through the bulwarks. Alexander 
 Perry returned to his brother's side on the quarter- 
 deck. 
 
 The guns on the Lawrence^ with the exception of 
 two long twelves, were thirty-two pound carronades, 
 a good weapon at close range but harmless at a 
 distance. For that reason Lieutenant Perry did not 
 reply to the fire, but bore in, setting a signal to the fleet 
 to close, and passing word back with the trumpet. 
 
 The American line was approaching at a slight 
 angle, and the Latvrence was the first to come close 
 to the enemy, the two schooners in advance being a 
 little to windward of the flag-ship. By the time she 
 was within two hundred and fifty yards, which is 
 rather more than the length of a town square, she 
 was receiving the fire of the Hunter and the Detroit, 
 and it was necessary for her to stop and answer it. 
 There she stopped, and there she fought as savage a 
 fight as any ship ever fought. 
 
126 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 With the first discharge from the guns of the Z^ze/- 
 7'ence^ it seemed to Perry that his head had been 
 split, so intense was the pain. But in the heat and 
 excitement of battle he forgot the pain, and forgot 
 his illness, excepting when a shivering wave of heat 
 rushed up and down his back, and his eyes swam 
 for a moment now and then. 
 
 Shot were tearing across the decks of the Lawrence, 
 mowing down men, crunching through the bulwarks, 
 snapping the rigging, chewing at the masts. The 
 men at the guns returned the fire without flinching. 
 The air was full of slivers that whirred over side, or 
 hummed like great tops across the decks. The 
 shrill shrieks of the wounded pierced the huge noise 
 of firing cannon. 
 
 " The Queen Charlotte \% drawing up, sir," reported 
 Alexander to Lieutenant Perry. Oliver turned from 
 an inspection of the Detroit through his glass to look 
 at the Queen Charlotte. She was slowly drawing 
 ahead of the Hunter, and swinging into a position 
 where her fire would half rake the Lawrence. 
 Lieutenant Perry turned swiftly toward the Niagara, 
 which should have been alongside of the Queen 
 Charlotte. The Niagara was behind the Caledonia, 
 which was a slow sailer, pounding away at intervals 
 with her long twelves. Her topsail was aback ; she 
 was clearly not making any effort to get intothe 
 thick of the fight for the relief of the flag-ship. 
 
 •'What's the matter with the Niagara? Why 
 don't the Niagara come up ? " men on the deck were 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 127 
 
 saying to each other, noticing the advance of the 
 Queen Charlotte, which should have been kept busy- 
 by Lieutenant Elliott. 
 
 It did no good to enquire the reason. The im- 
 portant thing for the present was that the Queen 
 Charlotte was turning her guns at closer range on 
 the Lawrence, already the target for two vessels, and 
 that she must stand them off alone. Not quite alone ; 
 the two gunboats that had preceded were barking 
 and spitting, ignored and unmolested by the fire of 
 the British fleet ; and the Caledonia, at a distance, 
 was throwing her long shot into the Queen Charlotte. 
 
 The men on the Laivrence soon felt the effect of 
 the converging fire. They tumbled over white, like 
 corn in a popper. Dead and wounded were lying 
 about the deck so thick in places that the powder 
 monkeys, serving the guns, had to hop among the 
 bodies or step on them. Perry, looking at the 
 wounded as they lay on the deck waiting to be taken 
 to the cockpit for the surgeon's care, met their eyes 
 gazing at him, to read in his face how the battle went. 
 
 A shot, entering a port, cleaned away from a gun 
 every man but one. That one looked at Perry, 
 pleading with his eyes for more men to serve the 
 gun. Perry shouted down to the cockpit : " How 
 many men have you assisting? " 
 
 " Six," answered the surgeon. 
 
 " Send one of them on deck." He was added to 
 others who came from a gun that had been dis- 
 mounted, and the crew was renewed. 
 
128 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Lieutenant Yarnall came to the quarter-deck. He 
 had a bandana bound around his neck, and another 
 around his head. Each stopped a bleeding wound. 
 The man was dressed in a sailor's suit, with no sign 
 of office on him. He asked for officers. Perry 
 spared him one. 
 
 Presently he was back again. A sliver had pierced 
 his nose, which was frightfully swollen. Clotting 
 blood stuck to his face here and there. " I am out 
 of officers," he said, again. 
 
 Perry had no more to give him. 
 
 Lieutenant Brook was standing by the side of the 
 commander. A solid shot struck him on the hip, 
 throwing him into the scupper. " Shoot me, shoot 
 me!" he cried to Perry, in mortal pain, knowing 
 that he would not live. He was carried below into 
 the cockpit, where he would not permit the surgeons 
 to attend to him, knowing it would be a waste of time. 
 
 The brig was shallow. The cockpit was above 
 the water line. Solid shot crashed through the walls 
 of the vessel and churned their way across the room 
 where the wounded were being tended by the 
 surgeon, who had now lost all of his six assistants to 
 the deck. 
 
 Dulany Forrest, midshipman, standing on the 
 quarter-deck talking with Perry as they both watched 
 the fight, was struck in the breast by a grape-shot 
 that had come through the bulwarks, struck the 
 mast, and glanced. The blow knocked him over. 
 Perry stepped to him and lifted his head. He saw 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 129 
 
 no blood on the lad's shirt. In a moment Forrest 
 raised himself to his feet and looked around. The 
 grape-shot that had hit him was lying on the plank- 
 ing. He picked it up. " I guess that is mine for a 
 relic," he said, and thrust it into his pocket. 
 
 One by one the guns were being swept clear of 
 their crews, or silenced. Six, four, two were left 
 fighting the weight of three opposed vessels. Out 
 of the crew only one-fifth were unhurt ; one out of 
 every five men had been killed or wounded. Every 
 brace and bowline was shot away ; the Lawrence 
 was unmanageable. She could only stand and 
 answer feebly with what guns she had left, while the 
 enemy chewed her to pieces ; reduced her to a wreck. 
 Where was the Niagara ? What had happened to 
 Elliott ? 
 
 A shot, striking the bulwarks, stripped ofi a 
 hammock. Hammocks were fastened along the 
 bulwarks before the engagement to hold slivers. 
 This one, snatched from its fastenings, was yanked 
 through the air and flung against Alexander Perry, 
 knocking him from his feet. Oliver turned just in 
 time to see his brother fall. 
 
 For the first time in the engagement his spirits 
 fell. He rushed to the side of the young middy, but 
 before he could raise him, Alexander scrambled to 
 his feet and looked at his commanding ofificer with a 
 sheepish grin. 
 
 Two o'clock, and after. For more than two hours 
 the Lawrence had been at the apex of the fire from 
 
I30 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 three of the enemy's vessels. She was a wreck. Un- 
 manageable, with only one gun in commission, four- 
 fifths of her men gone, and no officer left uninjured 
 excepting Perry and his brother, she floated help- 
 lessly in front of the destroying guns of the enemy. 
 She had done damage, but the odds had been too 
 heavy. 
 
 Lieutenant Perry and Lieutenant Yarnall were 
 discussing the situation. They would not strike ; 
 they did not think of that as an alternative ; they 
 were trying to figure out some stratagem. 
 
 " There comes the Nmgara,'^ cried Alexander. 
 
 They looked, and saw the brig, that had been out 
 of the fight until now, slowly creeping up to the 
 windward of the Caledonia, making for the head of 
 the British line but in a course parallel with it. 
 Neither Perry nor Yarnall could understand the 
 manoeuvre. As they looked, the light of an idea 
 came into the fever-ridden eyes of the commander. 
 His glance shot along the davits. There was one 
 boat left. 
 
 " I am going aboard the Niagara,'' he said. " I 
 shall transfer my flag." 
 
 He walked to the one gun that was left, helped 
 the broken crew to load it ; trained it, and fired. 
 
 Five minutes later a boat, rowed by all that was 
 left unharmed of the crew of the Lawrence, shot out 
 from the brig's side and made direct for the Niagara, 
 passing a half mile away. In the stern stood a tall 
 figure in a lieutenant's uniform. Over one shoulder 
 
P-, 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 131 
 
 was draped a flag of blue bunting. On the blue 
 were painted white letters ; one could not make out 
 what they were as they lay folded. Beside the 
 standing man, tugging at his coat-tails, was Alexander 
 Perry, trying to make his big brother sit down in 
 the boat. 
 
 And with good reason, too. It was dangerous 
 enough to venture out on clear water in that little 
 craft, with three or four of the enemy's vessels 
 pounding broadsides at it, and the whole musketry 
 of the marines pelting the lake with bullets. But 
 for the man to stand, when all the future of the war 
 in those parts depended on his getting safely to the 
 Niagara^ was foolhardy and a wicked risk. Prob- 
 ably it was a touch of the fever. 
 
 They had not gone far when two of the men 
 ceased rowing, and would not begin again until the 
 lieutenant sat down. The strike brought him to 
 reason. He sat, and the boat went on. 
 
 In these days the craft would not have much of a 
 chance with the accurate guns and gunnery ; but in 
 those times all weapons were smooth bore, and could 
 not shoot as straight as the modern rifles. Only one 
 ball struck. It passed through one side of the boat, 
 thumping a hole near the water line. Perry stripped 
 off his lieutenant's coat and stuffed it into the hole to 
 keep out the water. 
 
 Lieutenant Elliott, meeting Perry as he climbed 
 aboard, was dumbfounded. Probably he wished that 
 he had come up sooner with the Niagara to the 
 
132 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 relief of the Laivreiice, " What is the result on 
 board your brig?" he blurted. The result was 
 plainly to be seen in the shattered bulwarks, the 
 swinging rope ends of rigging, the flopping sails, 
 and the dead peace that brooded over her death- 
 strewn decks. 
 
 " All cut to pieces," answered Perry. He looked 
 alow and aloft, and saw that the Niagara was not 
 injured. Hardly a shot had taken effect, and those 
 that had come aboard had done no damage. The 
 crew was fresh and whole. 
 
 The flag of the commodore, with its motto : 
 " Don't give up the ship," went to the masthead, 
 and Perry assumed command of the Niagara. His 
 plans were made. 
 
 " Shall I bring up the schooners, sir?" said Elliott. 
 The schooners were trailing a mile or two astern, 
 sluggards in the light breeze that was blowing. By 
 signal and trumpet they had been ordered to come 
 up as rapidly as they could, and they were doing so, 
 using sweeps to help, but both Perry and Elliott felt 
 the embarrassment of the latter's presence on the 
 Niagara, and were glad to make use of the excuse. 
 Elliott leaped into the boat that had brought Perry 
 from the Lazvrence, and started for the schooners. 
 
 Less than a half mile away were the Detroit, the 
 Quee7t Charlotte, and the Hunter, at the head of the 
 British line. They had been heavily handled by 
 the Lawrence ; their sides were splintered by her 
 shot ; many of their guns were useless ; their decks 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 133 
 
 were soppy with blood, and their crews were ex- 
 hausted. Perry, on a fresh ship of twenty guns, 
 with a crew that had been held in leash, enjoying 
 the weather gauge on his enemy, had one chance. 
 He saw it, and took it. 
 
 The topsail was set aback. The Niagara hung 
 in the water, hove to for an instant, the helm was 
 thrown over, the sails shifted, the wind filled them, 
 and she payed off, heading directly for the two 
 largest of the enemy : the flag-ship Detroit and the 
 Queen Charlotte. 
 
 Down upon them she swept, with her guns double- 
 shotted, the flag of the sick man of the lakes, with 
 its white lettered motto, rollicking in the breeze. 
 Alexander hopped up and down twice on the quar- 
 ter-deck, midshipman though he was. His big 
 brother was going to win the fight, and he 
 knew it. 
 
 Close and closer she drew across the sparkling 
 water. The Lady Prevost, her rudder broken, had 
 drifted out of the line and passed ahead of the De- 
 troit and the Queen Charlotte. Perry drove the 
 Niagara between the Lady Prevost and the others. 
 The Detroit, trying to veer to bring her broadside 
 to bear, fouled the Queen Charlotte, and the two 
 were helpless for a time. Perry held his fire. 
 
 Now he was among the British vessels, hanging 
 on their line of battle. He shortened sail in an in- 
 stant. The Niagara paused like a falcon about to 
 strike. There was a lurching heave of her decks, a 
 
134 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 shiver that ran away and died through her timbers, 
 a bursting roar of all her guns. 
 
 To the left the Lady Prevost staggered under the 
 shock of the port broadside. To the right a shriek 
 arose from the Detroit of many mingled voices. 
 
 The shriek was the death cry of the fleet. 
 
 One of the men struck down on the Detroit was 
 Captain Barclay. He had lost an arm at Trafalgar, 
 Now the other was nearly torn from his body. He 
 was carried below, and the fate of the fleet rested in 
 less expert hands. Finnis, captain of the Queen 
 Charlotte, who had been in command of the fleet 
 before Barclay, was already dead. 
 
 There was no one left on the decks of the Lady 
 Prevost but the captain. A bullet had struck him in 
 the face, and driven him crazy with pain. The rest 
 of the crew had run below after the first discharge 
 from the broadside of the Niagara. Perry ordered 
 the marines to cease firing at the Lady Prevost. 
 
 The Detroit and Queen Charlotte were clear now, 
 and fought back weakly, with what little strength 
 they had left. There were gallant men on board. 
 But Perry, in his fresh vessel, hung on their flanks, 
 biting deep with each leaping charge of his guns. 
 And the schooners, brought up by Lieutenant 
 Elliott, came within range and poured canister and 
 grape into the almost helpless enemy. The end had 
 come. One after another the British vessels struck ; 
 the Qtieen Charlotte first, then the Detroit, and the 
 Lady Prevost. Two gunboats tried to get away, but 
 
THE SICK MAN OF THE LAKE 135 
 
 were overhauled and captured before they could 
 reach Maiden. 
 
 And what of the Lawrence all this time ? She was 
 a drifting wreck, slowly passing out of the range of 
 fire. Lieutenant Yarnall, left in charge by Perry 
 when he took to the Niagara, had hauled down the 
 flag as soon as his superior ofBcer reached the deck 
 of the Niagara, but no one had time to come aboard 
 from the British to make her a prize. 
 
 Wounded men lay about her decks, dragging 
 themselves to where they could see the end of the 
 fight, faintly cheering from time to time as some 
 stroke fatal to the British became apparent. And 
 when the British flags came down, one by one, the 
 ghost of a rousing cheer lifted above the groans of 
 the men under the surgeon's knife in the cockpit be- 
 low, and the sighs of the dying, to waft the depart- 
 ing souls on their contented way to the next world. 
 
 Great was to be the reward of those men. For 
 when the English officers came to surrender. Perry 
 would not receive them on any other planks than 
 those of the gallant Laivrence. There, among the 
 heaps of the dead, and surrounded by wounded and 
 dying, who still looked into his face with the same 
 loving trustfulness that he had seen there all through 
 the deadly fight, he received the surrender of the 
 officers of the British fleet. 
 
 When all was done ; when the sun had sunk be- 
 hind the western waves and the future of the north- 
 west had been assured, Oliver Hazard Perry sank 
 
136 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 in his berth on the brig and slept throughout the 
 night as deeply and as peacefully as any of those 
 near him whose sleep was to be forever. 
 
 Not far from him lay his brother, Alexander, mid- 
 shipman in the American navy, and that night the 
 proudest young lad in all the world. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 HOW THE WIND PLAYED TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 
 
 A HALF dozen American bluejackets were sitting 
 about a rough table under the shade of an olive tree 
 in the patio of an old wine-shop in Valparaiso, Chili. 
 They were members of the crew of the United States 
 frigate Essex, Captain David Porter. The night be- 
 fore there had been merrymaking aboard the frigate ; 
 a party given by the officers to the officials of 
 Valparaiso. These men had come ashore to con- 
 tinue the festivities on their own score. Half the 
 crew was ashore on similar business. The bottle 
 was passing frequently ; talk was loud and laughter 
 high. 
 
 It was early in February, 1814. The United States 
 had been at war with England for nearly two years. 
 The frigates of the United States had met the ships 
 of Old England in more than one bloody encounter, 
 and had come off victorious. The Essex had done 
 her part ; she had fought savagely and well. Now 
 she was in the Chilean port with the Essex Jimior 
 after a long cruise in the Pacific in which she had 
 played havoc with British shipping, capturing more 
 than a dozen British vessels and frightening English 
 commerce from the entire sea. 
 
 News of her had been carried to England. It had 
 
138 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 roused high resentment. That one little frigate 
 should command so large a territory and drive from 
 so vast a sea the ships of the mistress of all the seas, 
 as England proudly proclaimed herself to be, was 
 more than their pride could endure. The English 
 Admiralty had despatched a fleet to remove the 
 troublesome frigate. 
 
 Information that England had sent a fleet had 
 come to Valparaiso, and rumors were running that 
 some of the enemy were not far off. The talk of the 
 men sitting about the table in the little wine-shop 
 was of their present situation, and how Captain 
 Porter would meet it. 
 
 "Ye cannot tell what he will do," declared one of 
 the men, " for he thinks of things that no other man 
 would think of. But this ye may know ; in some 
 way, and that the best way, he will fight." 
 
 " Aye, that he will," answered another. " He's 
 the fightin'est man I ever see. Why, I remem- 
 ber " 
 
 " Come, Nick, what do you remember ? " inter- 
 rupted a third, laughing ; for it was well known that 
 Nick Haydock remembered many things that never 
 had happened. 
 
 ** He will not only fight because he is brave," went 
 on Joel Hawes, the one who had spoken first, " but 
 he will fight because he hates the British with a 
 lovely hatred, borrowed of the time when he was 
 pressed aboard their ships of war and beaten by the 
 hands of their coxswains." 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 139 
 
 "Was he so?" exclaimed another sailor, Harry 
 Hotchkiss by name, who was little more than a lad. 
 
 " Aye, twice over, and he will never feel that the 
 score is even," answered Hawes. 
 
 " I remember," began Nick again, but got no 
 farther. 
 
 " When was he impressed, then ? " piped up the 
 youthful sailor, turning to Hawes ; a grizzled old salt 
 with a broad beard and tattoo marks thick on arms 
 and chest. He had been captain of a long eighteen 
 on the Essex's forecastle for two cruises. 
 
 " When he was but a lad of sixteen or thereabouts," 
 Joel answered. " He had already had one narrow 
 squeeze from it before he was taken. 'Twasin 1796, 
 the first time when he got away. He was cruising 
 in the West Indies with his father, who was a fight- 
 ing man before him, as was his grandfather as well. 
 They fell in with a British press gang, and there was 
 a rough and tumble fight, young Porter taking his 
 full share in it. In the end they drove oflf the 
 Britishers, but on the next voyage he was taken, to- 
 gether with the whole crew. 
 
 " But a tough nut to crack he proved to be. He 
 would not serve, no matter what they might do. 
 They put him in irons, and kept him on bread and 
 water, but his spirits only rose the higher. Then on 
 a day they brought him on deck for a flogging, to 
 see if they could not cure him of his stubbornness, but 
 he jumped overboard and swam to a Danish vessel 
 that was in the harbor, where he was let alone." 
 
I40 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " I might tell ye more o' that," said one of the group, 
 a sandy-haired Scotchman who had said nothing 
 until now. 
 
 " Come, now, Bissh', have ye a tongue, then ? " 
 cried Nick, in banter. " 'T would be news enough to 
 hear ye speak, my hearty." 
 
 " 'T would be no so much as to hear ye hold your 
 peace, mon," retorted the Scot. 
 
 " Let's have the tale, then," they all cried, amid 
 much mirth over the sally. 
 
 " 'Tis but a wee bit o' a tale, but it shows the 
 mettle o' the mon, nane the less," began Bissly. 
 " 'Tis onl}'^ that I had a brither on board thet same 
 ship when young Porter was brought forward to be 
 flogged. The crew was standin' aboot, as is the 
 fashion on such occasions, thet they might be 
 properly impressed wi' the floggin', and the cox- 
 swain stood with bared arms and stiff muscles, the 
 cat-o'-nine-tails in his hand, ready to begin. They 
 were leadin' the lad across the deck, and his head was 
 high and there was fire in his eyes as he went, I may 
 tell 'e. When he was in the midst of the deck, o' a 
 sudden thought he dashed aside the men who held 
 him and made a leap for a g^n-port, knockin' down 
 twa fellows as he ran. It chanced that one o' the 
 twa was me own brither, and I may say that he tried 
 little enough to stop him, for he had a warm likin' 
 for the lad. There was nothin' done to fetch him 
 back again ; belike the British officers thought they 
 had made g-ood riddance. But the fioggin' thet was 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 141 
 
 to go to him was gi'en those who let him get free, 
 among them my brither. 'Twas the first and the 
 last he ever had. He often told me the whole tale, 
 as I tell it ye, but with many more words, until a 
 shot carried his soul to eternity." 
 
 " Then what happened to him ? " prompted Hotch- 
 kiss, for fear the yarns would cease to be spun. 
 
 Joel took up the tale. " They would not molest 
 him on board the Dane, where he made out to swim. 
 The Danes took him with them to Europe, but when 
 he was on the way home again the British laid hold 
 on him once more, and this time they handled him 
 rougher than the first But once more, by hook or 
 by crook, he escaped and got back to the United 
 States, in time to go aboard the Constellation and be 
 in the fight with the Vengeance and the Insurgent^ 
 in the war with France." 
 
 " I remember " broke in Nick again. 
 
 " Come, now, what do you remember ? " cried the 
 second sailor. " The man must have it out, or he'll 
 burst." 
 
 " Aye, Nick, out with it," laughed Joel. 
 
 " I remember the time we had with those same 
 howling Frenchmen we took on the Insurgent'' he 
 went on. " Thirteen of us were sent aboard from 
 the Constellation to transfer the prisoners to her, the 
 Insurgent being in a fair way to sink at any minute 
 from the shot holes we had put in her. Lieutenant 
 Rodgers was in command of us and there was my- 
 self and little Davy Porter here, among others." 
 
142 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 '• Hurrah ! " shouted two or three of the tars, 
 laughing at the way he had put it. 
 
 " And 'twas not a wholly pleasant thing, either," 
 went on Nick, paying no attention to their banter. 
 " There we were, thirteen men in all " 
 
 " That's countin' you and Middy Porter as one 
 apiece, I take it," laughed Joel. 
 
 " Thirteen men in all," repeated Nick. " As I 
 was a-sayin', 'twas not a pleasant thing, thirteen 
 men to the whole crew, but we were making the 
 most of it and getting 'em off as fast as v;e could, 
 when, as bad luck would have it, a hurricane blew 
 up and drove us apart from the Constellation while 
 there were still one hundred and seventy-three of the 
 Frenchmen between decks ; which, as you may 
 figure for yourself, was thirteen of them to one of us. 
 I have seen storms at sea in my time, lads, but never 
 have my eyes beheld such a blow as that there one 
 was. Keel-haul me for a lubber, if the waves didn't 
 run as high as those mountains over yonder," 
 nodding his head in the direction of the Cordilleras, 
 which were in view from where they sat. 
 
 "That's a mere ripple of a wave," laughed the 
 second sailor. 
 
 " The wind was a-howlin' overhead, and the 
 Frenchmen a-howlin' between decks, and the ship 
 takin' water, havin' been ready to sink from the time 
 we had left off firin' on her, and only thirteen of us 
 to work ship, man the pumps, stand trick at the 
 wheel, and keep the Frenchmen in order," he went 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 143 
 
 on, ignoring the others. " But we were equal to it. 
 They put me, with another man, as bein' the most 
 reliable for the position, at the hatches, with muskets, 
 and orders to shoot the first Frenchman that showed 
 his head. The rest worked the ship. For two days 
 and three nights, my hearties, we fought without a 
 wink of sleep, and made our way through the father 
 of all gales into the harbor of St. Kitts, where we 
 found the Constellation^ never expecting to see us 
 again." 
 
 " And it so happens that all of that is true, every 
 word of it," commented Joel, nodding his head at 
 the others. 
 
 " True as the compass ! " asserted Nick. 
 
 " That puts me in mind of the time we had after 
 we had taken the British corvette Alert, a year and 
 more ago," put in the second sailor. " 'Twas on 
 the first cruise of this same little Essex, and we were 
 already shorthanded from putting prize crews into 
 two prizes we had taken, when we tricked the Alert 
 and brought down her colors with one round broad- 
 side. We already had aboard some two hundred 
 soldiers we had taken from a transport that we cap- 
 tured " 
 
 " Aye ! " exclaimed Joel. " The one we cut out 
 of the fleet. 'Twas a rich joke, that." 
 
 " What was that ? " asked young Hotchkiss. 
 
 " I'll tell ye soon," said Joel, and the second sailor 
 resumed his tale. 
 
 "There was this mess of British between decks, 
 
144 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 and we were shorthanded, as I have told ye. 
 'Twould have been a small matter for them to have 
 risen and got the best of us, and Porter knew it well. 
 One night when all was quiet young Midshipman 
 Farragut, the same who is now on board " 
 
 " Aye, aye," said Hotchkiss ; for Farragut was 
 his own particular hero. 
 
 " Midshipman Farragut was in his hammock 
 when he saw the coxswain of the British captain's 
 gig pacing up and down with a pistol in his hand, 
 looking first this way and then that, out of the tail 
 of his eye. Farragut knew at once that something 
 was up, but how was he to get word to Captain 
 Porter? The coxswain was watching him, and 
 pretty soon came over and held a lantern in his face. 
 Young Farragut was sleeping as sweet as a babe, 
 for anything the fellow could see, so he went on 
 with his pistol. 
 
 " As soon as he was gone, little middy jumps out 
 of his hammock and runs to the quarter-deck. 
 ' There's mutiny aboard, sir,' says he to the captain ; 
 and he told what he had seen. Thereat Captain 
 Porter runs to the break of the poop and bellows out 
 ' Fire ! ' like any bull, and the bluejackets alow and 
 aloft came running to the deck, while the chaps 
 below was so frightened at the thought of being 
 drowned like rats that they forgot all about the 
 mutiny." 
 
 "Was there a fire?" asked Hotchkiss. 
 
 " Not a spark nor a flame of it, my lad," returned 
 
TRICKS ON THE BSSBX 145 
 
 the tar. " 'Twas an old trick of his, and 'tis yet, as 
 you may have noticed more than once for yourself, 
 to bellow fire and bring all hands to quarters in a 
 jiffy, for fire drill. As soon as his men were to- 
 gether, and before the mutineers had found out the 
 trick. Captain Porter turned the men of his ship upon 
 them and quickly put a stop to all their nonsense. 
 And it was not long before they were all sent to St. 
 Johns, Newfoundland, on the Aler^, as a cartel, so 
 that danger was removed." 
 
 " What about the troop-ship ? " asked Hotchkiss, 
 turning to Joel. He never tired of hearing these old 
 salts spin their yarns of the sea. 
 
 " Well," Joel began, " 'twas on this same cruise, 
 and a little before this, that we sighted seven vessels 
 one night under convoy of a frigate. Anybody but 
 Porter would have found that he had business some- 
 wheres else just about that time, but not him. He 
 brought down his topgallantmasts, so that his rig 
 would not show so high, ran his guns inboard, closed 
 the ports, slacked ofiF his running rigging to make it 
 like that of a merchant ship, and otherwise made our 
 good frigate look as much like a lubbery merchant- 
 man as she could. Then he slipped in among them, 
 not knowing precisely what he was going to do him- 
 self, but ready for anything that might turn up. 
 
 " The trick worked fine ; for a long time the 
 blooming Britishers did not suspect that we were not 
 one of their own vessels. At last one of the captains 
 began to think that things looked queer, and started 
 
146 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 to make signals to the frigate. The old man ran 
 alongside of her, opened his ports, stuck out his 
 guns, and commanded the British captain to follow 
 him out of the fleet, which he did, very peacefully, 
 not wishing to be sent to the bottom. He had on 
 board two hundred soldiers out of a thousand that 
 the fleet was carrying from Barbadoes to Quebec. 
 We would have returned for another haul, but it was 
 too near dawn for that. 
 
 " In the morning the old man ran in again, with 
 his topgallantmasts set up, his rigging shipshape, 
 and his guns out, the Essex looking the frigate that 
 she was, and hove to off the bows of the convoy. 
 The British we had aboard were very anxious for a 
 fight, thinking their man could have handled us, and 
 so were we, thinking he could not. But the coward 
 drew off into the protection of the fleet, all of whom 
 carried guns, and we had to put about without more 
 prizes. But for simple audacity you cannot beat it ; 
 going into a fleet of eight ships with one little frigate 
 and cutting out a prize from under the noses of the 
 other seven." 
 
 " He beat it himself, though, that time the Shannon 
 chased us," asserted Nick. " I remember it well." 
 
 " Aye, that he did," Joel confirmed 
 
 " I remember it well," went on Nick. " You 
 would have thought that any man in a forty-two gun 
 frigate would have showed a clean pair of heels if he 
 got a chase from three of the enemy, two of them 
 bigger and heavier than himself, but not so our Cap- 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 147 
 
 tain Porter, bless him. He made off as though he 
 was trying to get away until night came, and then 
 he rigged out kedge anchors on his yard-arms, 
 ready to drop them on the deck of the enemy, and 
 went about on a tack, figuring to meet one of them. 
 You see, it was this way," Nick explained, drawing 
 a sketch of the manoeuvre on the table with his 
 thumb nail. " We are all sailing free, with the wind 
 on our larboard. They had the wind of us, but we 
 were well ahead. After dark-fall, he went on the 
 port tack, making about five or six knot, while the 
 enemy, sailing free, came down at about eight. He 
 had figured it all out that we would meet at a certain 
 place where the two courses crossed, both of us bring- 
 ing up there at the same time. As soon as ever we 
 came alongside, which we could have done, for they 
 never would have thought that it was the enemy ap- 
 proaching them, he was going to let go his kedge 
 anchors, grapple, and board, before the two others 
 could come up. He calculated that he could take 
 the ship and get her under way again before the rest 
 of the squadron would know what he was fairly do- 
 ing. And that's just what he would have done, too, 
 if the English vessel had not changed her course 
 unknown to him, and so missed us." 
 
 The Scotchman Bissly, who had been looking out 
 of the door of the shop behind which they were sit- 
 ting while Nick told his story, arose to his feet when 
 it was ended and said, mysteriously : " Me boys, 
 there's mischief afoot ! " 
 
148 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The others turned to him quickly ; the times were 
 full of possibilities. "What is it now?" they de- 
 manded. 
 
 " I have but now seen a mon that I ken well 
 enough to know that he is up to some evil. I sailed 
 with him once in a ship that he was mate of ; the 
 same that is now in the harbor, and ye may have my 
 grog for a week if he is not doing some trick on us." 
 
 " Have done with riddles," cried Joel Hawes, with 
 a sailor's oath. " Out with it." 
 
 " Na, I dinna ken what it will be aboot, but I mean 
 to have a look to see," Bissly returned, starting to 
 leave. 
 
 The lad Hotchkiss sprang up. " I'll go with you," 
 he said, eager for adventure. 
 
 ** That ye may do, if you like," returned the Scot, 
 *' but the rest had best bide here." 
 
 Bissly left, accompanied by the young sailor. 
 
 Those who stayed behind over the bottle had 
 ceased to speculate on what had started the Scotch- 
 man off, and were in the midst of tales of the time 
 when David Porter, falling into the hands of the 
 Tripolitans through the grounding of the frigate 
 Philadelphia in the harbor of Tripoli during our war 
 with that country, lay for nineteen months a prisoner 
 in the Bashaw's palace, when the deep boom of a 
 gun shook the still hot air and brought them all ±o 
 their feet. 
 
 They rushed to the water side and saw the Essex 
 flying signals recalling her men from shore leave. 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 149 
 
 They clambered into a boat, and were just making 
 off, when Bissly and Hotchkiss came running down 
 to the water's edge and hailed. The others put back 
 for them and took them aboard. 
 
 "What did you find out ? " Joel asked Bissly. 
 
 "Twas as I thought," returned Bissly. "The 
 rogue went into a boat and pulled out to sea. For 
 my part, I guess well where he has gone. This gun 
 from the Essex tells it all. The British fleet has 
 come, and he went out to tell thet 'twas a good time 
 to try to take the Essex, we being all ashore and 
 more or less awash with the recent festivities." 
 
 The Scotchman was right. The mate of an Eng- 
 lish merchantman in the harbor, hearing of the ap- 
 proach of a British man-of-war, and knowing that 
 half the crew of the Essex were ashore in Valparaiso 
 continuing the amusements of the evening before, 
 had gone out in a little boat to meet the approaching 
 frigate and notify the captain of her that the oppor- 
 tunity was ripe for a quick attack on the American 
 vessel. 
 
 The man-of-war was the British frigate Phcebe, 
 Captain Hillyar, accompanied by the sloop-of-war 
 Cherub. They were the first to arrive of the fleet 
 that had been reported as coming out to capture the 
 Essex and rid the Pacific Ocean of the enemy that 
 had plagued British shipping for so long. 
 
 Porter had been informed of the approach of the 
 two frigates by the Essex Junior, which was cruising 
 outside. Under the laws between nations, when two 
 
I50 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 nations are at war the vessels of neither may be at- 
 tacked by the vessels of the other when they are 
 within three miles of the shore of a third country, or 
 in any port belonging to the third country. That is 
 what is meant by the neutrality of waters and of 
 ports. Valparaiso, Chili, was a neutral port. 
 
 But David Porter was not at all certain that the 
 Englishman would respect the neutrality of the port 
 of Valparaiso. Chili was a very young republic, and 
 very weak, and would hardly be able to enforce re- 
 spect from him for the neutrality of her ports. Porter 
 was not going to take any chances. He at once 
 fired a gun — the gun that the knot of sailors in the 
 wine-shop had heard — and ran up signals recalling 
 all his men from shore leave. While he was waiting 
 for them to come aboard, he went about preparing 
 a reception for the stranger, if he saw fit to attempt 
 to make trouble. He cleared for action, called to 
 quarters, stowed powder and shot about the decks 
 ready for "quick use, and formed his boarders. 
 
 Joel Hawes, Harry Hotchkiss, Nick Haydock, 
 Bissly, and the others who had been with them in 
 the wine-shop, were paddling across the harbor as 
 fast as they could ; it was a crazy, cranky dugout 
 they were in, and progress was slow and dangerous. 
 If they had not already had much experience in 
 similar craft since they had been cruising in the 
 Pacific they would probably not have got very far in 
 it, but they managed to paddle along without upset- 
 ting, with that skill which an American so quickly 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 151 
 
 learns whenever he turns his hand to something 
 new. 
 
 Other canoes were all about them, some making 
 better headway than they, and some not going as 
 fast. Here and there in the water bobbed the head 
 of some sailor who had not stopped to find a boat, 
 but had plunged in to swim out to his ship. There 
 was shouting back and forth between the canoes, and 
 an exchange of opinion of all Englishmen, and these 
 in particular ; for by this time there was no doubt 
 that the English ships were coming. 
 
 "There they are now I " cried Harry Hotchkiss, 
 who was paddling in the bow of the dugout. 
 
 The others, looking up and following his gaze, 
 saw two towering clouds of canvas bearing into the 
 harbor under full press. A shout that was half a 
 snarl rang over the water from the scurrying canoes, 
 and the men in them doubled their efforts at the 
 paddles. 
 
 All doubt of the intention of the British frigate had 
 disappeared when Joel's boat load reached the decks 
 of the Essex. The Phoebe, the larger of the two, 
 was bearing directly down upon them under a spread 
 of canvas. She was already so close that the Amer- 
 icans could see her men at their stations, clearly 
 ready for a fight, and expecting one. 
 
 The Essex was in a bustle of preparation. Ham- 
 mocks were being lashed to the gunwales, to prevent 
 as much as possible the flying splinters, the most 
 deadly result of an enemy's shot ; some sailors were 
 
152 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 dousing the decks with water, to kill any stray pow- 
 der that might be spilled ; others were sprinkling sand 
 about the planking, and setting buckets of it here 
 and there to be thrown on the decks when flowing 
 blood should make them slippery. Powder mon- 
 keys were fetching powder ; the marines were form- 
 ing in the gangways ; down below in the cockpit 
 the surgeons were laying out their instruments and 
 bandages. 
 
 As a last preparation Captain Porter ordered kedge 
 anchors to be rigged ready for hauling to the yard- 
 arms, where they could be dropped upon the deck 
 of the enemy. That was a way they had when ves- 
 sels came close together. If one wished to board 
 the other, the kedge anchors were hauled to the 
 yard-arms and let go on the enemy's deck. Then 
 they were hauled in, the two vessels were grappled 
 together, and the boarders would pour over bulwarks 
 and through gun-ports armed with cutlasses, pikes, 
 and pistols. 
 
 Joel Hawes was captain of a long eighteen on the 
 forecastle. Harry Hotchkiss was in his gun crew. 
 Bissly was in the crew next to them. They went to 
 their stations, stripping themselves to their waists so 
 that they could move more freely, and so that, if they 
 were struck by a splinter of musket ball, no cloth 
 would be driven into their flesh. 
 
 On came the Phcebe, drawing closer and closer. 
 The men on the Essex hungered to let go at her as 
 she slipped along, a half pistol-shot away. But the 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 153 
 
 officers, pacing up and down behind the guns, held 
 them back. Captain Porter would not break the 
 law of nations. If the Englishman chose to do so, 
 Porter was ready for him. If he had known what 
 was going to happen within the next few weeks, he 
 probably would not have been so scrupulous, and 
 this would have been a different story. 
 
 The Phoebe, driving on before the breeze, slid un- 
 der the stern of the Essex, luffed up, and came on to 
 her port bow, fifteen feet away. Joel Hawes shut his 
 eyes ; the target was too tempting ; he was afraid to 
 look at it for fear he would let go his gun and begin 
 the trouble. 
 
 Captain Hillyar was clearly surprised at the readi- 
 ness of the American frigate. He had expected to 
 find her half empty. He had expected to see what 
 men she might have aboard lolling around her decks, 
 after the manner of sailors in port. Instead, they 
 were all at their guns, with matches ready. He 
 changed his mind about rushing her. 
 
 Climbing upon a gun of the quarter-deck section, 
 he hailed Captain Porter, whom he had met in a 
 friendly way in the Mediterranean, during the trouble 
 between the United States and the Barbary powers 
 ten years before. " Captain Hillyar's compliments 
 to Captain Porter, and hopes he is well ! " said the 
 Englishman, with studied politeness. 
 
 " Very well, thank you," returned Porter, rather 
 grimly, " but I hope you will not come too near for 
 fear some accident might happen that would be dis- 
 
154 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 agreeable to you." He waved his trumpet, and the 
 kedge anchors soared away to the yard-arms. 
 
 Captain Hillyar was alarmed. The kind of a dis- 
 agreeable accident that might happen to him was 
 quite clear to the Englishman from the crowds of 
 armed men aboard the Essex, ready to board, and 
 at the guns with lighted matches, to say nothing of 
 the kedge anchors dangling above his head. He 
 braced back his yards in great haste, and called out 
 to Porter : " If I do fall aboard of you, I beg to assure 
 you that it will be purely accidental." There was a 
 trace of anxiety in his tones. 
 
 "Well, you have no business there," returned 
 Porter. " If you touch a rope-yarn of this ship, I 
 shall board instantly." He signaled Lieutenant 
 Downes, commanding the Essex Junior, to be ready 
 to repel the enemy. 
 
 The American sailors were trembling with eager- 
 ness to begin the fight. They had the English 
 frigate at a deadly advantage ; she lay stern to un- 
 der their broadsides ; they could have raked her from 
 stern to stem, and taken her by boarding before the 
 Cherub could come up. Low talk went along the 
 lines of gunners ; they were like sprinters staring, 
 straining at the starting line, waiting for the signal 
 gun that sends them flying down the track. 
 
 And they nearly heard the gun. The imagination 
 of Nick Haydock, always active, was now overheated 
 by the closeness of the British and the pleasures of 
 the last two days. Gazing out at the line of English 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 155 
 
 faces, which were plainly visible at the ports, he 
 fancied that one of them was grinning and making 
 grimaces at him. That he would stand from no John 
 Bull. He picked up a gun. His eye ran along the 
 barrel. He was about to pull the trigger, which 
 would have hurled both ships into a storm of fighting 
 and changed a bit of history when Lieutenant Cowel 
 chanced to spy him. Before Nick could press the trig- 
 ger, Cowel sent him sprawling with a blow of the fist. 
 
 The Phosbe, threatened as she was, was manoeu- 
 vering out of her delicate position with great skill. 
 The men behind the guns of the Essex, watching her 
 yards to see if they touched the rope-yarn, which 
 would permit them to fight her, saw her long yards 
 sweep over their decks, missing their own ropes by 
 less than a fathom as she drifted astern, and saw her 
 at last quite clear of them. A mutter of disappoint- 
 ment went up from them as she drifted farther away, 
 took the wind in her sails once more, paid off, and 
 slipped down a half mile to leeward, where she 
 anchored. 
 
 " I could have bored a hole the length of her," 
 growled Joel Hawes, giving the gun-carriage a knock 
 with his heel in his disgust. 
 
 Two days later Captain Hillyar met Captain 
 Porter in the streets of Valparaiso. The Englishman 
 thanked the American for his forbearance on the day 
 the Phoebe arrived in port, and told him that since he 
 had been so scrupulous to observe the neutrality of 
 
156 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 the port in trying circumstances, he himself would 
 not consider it honorable to be less scrupulous in the 
 matter. 
 
 Nevertheless, Captain Porter did not have much 
 faith in the man's good intentions. He was certain 
 that the British officers had been ordered to take the 
 Essex without risk, and he could not believe that 
 they would let slip this chance, while he was cooped 
 up in the harbor. He felt that it would only be a 
 question of time until they would attempt to take 
 him. He was informed, too, that more vessels were 
 on the way. Surely, if the Phccbe and Cherub should 
 be reinforced, they would not wait much longer on a 
 formality of international law. 
 
 Days slipped into weeks, and still the British ves- 
 sels stood guard over him. Sometimes they an- 
 chored close to the harbor entrance ; other times they 
 cruised up and down off the harbor, but so close to 
 it that he could not slip out. Captain Porter was 
 certain that they were merely waiting for the arrival 
 of the other British ships before descending upon 
 him. He made up his mind that he would not let 
 the Essex die like a rat in a trap. He would take 
 the first opportunity to get out to sea ; or, if no chance 
 came along, he would make one. 
 
 He had already made a feint or two at getting 
 past them, in which he had discovered two facts of 
 importance. The Essex could outsail and outpoint 
 either of the enemy's ships, and the Pha?be was faster 
 than her companion. This meant much to him. In 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 157 
 
 the first place, it meant that he would stand a better 
 chance to get out than he would have had if either 
 of the others were faster than the Essex. And it 
 meant that if the two should follow, which he made 
 no doubt they would, he could run ahead until the 
 Phoebe had left her consort far behind, and then he 
 could turn and fall on Captain Hillyar and fight it 
 out with him alone. 
 
 It was now six weeks since the British vessels had 
 arrived at Valparaiso. Captain Porter decided that 
 he would wait no longer for an opportunity to slip 
 through. Hillyar was too wary. He would set a 
 day in which to make the trial. He would make the 
 trial the next afternoon. No, he would try it this 
 afternoon ; he would not get into the habit of the 
 Spanish American, who puts everything off until to- 
 morrow. " Mafiana, mafiana," they say, as they 
 squat in the sun by the side of the road. 
 
 Now the wind played its first trick on the Essex. 
 Captain Porter had no sooner decided to start im- 
 mediately on his attempt to get out, than a savage 
 draught came down out of the Cordilleras and blew a 
 squall. The wind was so strong that it was not a 
 good time to carry out the plan. Captain Porter 
 would have to wait, after all. 
 
 But here the wind played a second trick. As if it 
 knew what it was doing, and meant some mischief, 
 it immediately commenced to blow harder than ever. 
 It was not long until it had put such a strain on 
 the port anchor of the frigate that the cable parted. 
 
158 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 One anchor would not hold the vessel, and she be- 
 gan to drive out to sea, dragging her starboard an- 
 chor over the hard bottom. Porter made up his 
 mind at once to make the most of the accident, and 
 pass out to sea. With this end in view, he strained 
 on all the canvas the Essex could carry in the wind 
 and stood for the harbor entrance. 
 
 Everything was going nicely, and there was good 
 prospect of his getting clear of the British frigates, 
 when the wind played trick number three. Crouch- 
 ing behind Point of Angels until the Essex came 
 along, a great squall rushed out upon the spread of 
 canvas and tore at it with its shrill fingers. The 
 good old Essex heeled over under the sudden blast 
 until her guns were almost under. Men were sent 
 aloft to take in sail. They were busy at the task 
 when the wind brought trick number three to a cli- 
 max by wrenching the maintopmast off of the Essex 
 just above the top and carrying it, yards and all, into 
 the sea. All the men who were on the yard at the 
 time furling sail were drowned. 
 
 Crippled b}'^ the loss of mast and sails, Porter gave 
 up trying to get past the British ships outside, and 
 turned back to make his anchorage. But the wind 
 was ready with trick number four ; it hauled just 
 enough to make it hard work for the Essex to win 
 back. The vessel did not behave well with her main- 
 topmast gone, and all the sails above it, and the 
 wreckage of them dragging overside in the water 
 made her cranky to steer. The best Porter could do 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 159 
 
 was to run into a little bay on the west side of the 
 harbor and anchor there close to shore, three-quarters 
 of a mile in the lee of a Chilean battery. 
 
 Porter had not much hope that the Englishmen 
 would leave him alone after his attempt to get out, 
 and he had not much hope that the Chilean battery 
 would try to enforce the principle of neutrality 
 against the British frigate and sloop-of-war, but he 
 was going to give them a chance to do it. 
 
 The Essex was made ready for immediate defense. 
 Porter knew that the fight would be desperate. When 
 the Essex was last in her home port, before she set 
 out on this cruise, the authorities at Washington had 
 seen fit to take twenty long twelve-pounders away 
 from her battery of twenty-six. The twenty long 
 guns had been replaced by sixteen thirty-two pound 
 carronades. It may seem at first that a gun throw- 
 ing a ball weighing thirty-two pounds could do 
 more damage than a gun throwing a ball weighing 
 only twelve pounds, and in a measure that is true. 
 But the gun throwing the twelve-pound shot is a 
 longer gun than the other, and can throw its shot 
 farther. Carronades had to be fought at close range. 
 They could not reach an enemy that was armed with 
 long guns, and chose to stand of? and use them. 
 And that was precisely what the English boats were 
 armed with. They had thirty-six long twelves 
 against the six that had been left on the Essex by 
 the authorities at Washington. 
 
 Porter had objected to the change in his guns 
 
i6o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 when it was made, but the objection had had no 
 weight with the men at home, who knew all about 
 sea fighting from pictures they had seen and books 
 they had read. Now the American officer wished 
 for his long twelves as he never wished for anything 
 in his life. He knew what the enemy carried, and 
 he knew that the enemy could stand off and beat 
 him to a pulp with the long guns. He would be 
 helpless ; he could not run in and close with his car- 
 ronades, because his maintopmast was gone, and 
 all above it. The third trick the wind had played 
 on him had been one too many. But this was not 
 the time to mourn about things that had already 
 happened, and the Essex made ready to meet the 
 enemy and to do the best she could. 
 
 " We'll have our stomach full of fighting this day, 
 I'm thinkin'," said an Irish gunner in Joel Hawes's 
 gun crew. 
 
 Joel looked at him savagely, thinking the man 
 was already flinching ; but the fellow's face was as 
 calm and serene as a mill-pond in June. He had 
 merely stated a fact, because it was a fact. They all 
 knew that it was so ; they all knew the odds, and 
 that they would have a stomach full of fighting be- 
 fore they were through, and they all took it as calmly 
 as Joel's Irishman. 
 
 The two British ships came swooping down under 
 full canvas on the helpless cripple, their men at their 
 guns, all flags flying in the breeze. The wind was 
 playing no tricks with them. And little they cared 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX i6i 
 
 for the laws of nations 1 They had been sent out to 
 exterminate this pest of the western sea, and they 
 were going to do it now, before it had another 
 chance to get away. If they could not do it one 
 way, they would do it another. 
 
 Barnewell, the sailing-master of the Essex, was 
 trying to get a hawser around the anchor chain that 
 was holding the Essex, so that they might drag her 
 around until her broadside was aimed in the direc- 
 tion whence the British ships were driving on her. 
 Sailors call such a line a "spring-line." Barne- 
 well was trying to get a " spring-line " on the cable, 
 Nick Haydock was helping him. Much depended 
 on that spring- line. If they could not get it fast in 
 time, the two attacking vessels could take a position 
 raking the Essex, and she would be helpless to reply 
 to them. David Farragut, midshipman, twelve 
 years old, was watching them. 
 
 A puf? of smoke leaped from the bows of the 
 Phoebe and was jerked away by the breeze. The 
 breeze had done its tricks now — some of them — and 
 was laughing over the water, waiting its chance for 
 the fifth and final trick it meant to play on the Amer- 
 ican frigate. The dull boom of the gun came over 
 the waves, and a shot thudded against the ribs of 
 the American vessel. The fight was on. 
 
 The Phoebe took a position under the stern of the 
 Essex ; not an American gun could be brought to 
 bear on her. It was just what Porter expected ; it 
 was what the spring-line that Barnewell was work- 
 
i62 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ing with was intended to prevent. "Boom! Boom!" 
 A dozen spurts of smoke from the Phoebe, the shriek 
 of hurtling shot, and their thumps against the sides 
 of the frigate. 
 
 " Curse 'em for cowards ! " cried the men at the 
 broadside guns of the Essex, beside themselves with 
 wrath, trying to twist their pieces around to bear. 
 Men were falling everywhere, and their companions 
 dragged them below to the cockpit, and hurried on 
 deck again to their useless guns, where they could 
 do nothing but wait their turn to be shot down. It 
 was maddening ! 
 
 Joel Hawes was having better luck. The Cherub^ 
 stealing to a position off the Essex" s bows, and open- 
 ing with her long guns, had fallen under his range. 
 He crouched over the breech of his long twelve, ran 
 his eye through the sights, stepped back, nodded, 
 and the gun leaped stiff legged into the air with a 
 sharp roar. 
 
 The first answer had been made to the fire of the 
 enemy. A cheer went up from the throats of the 
 American sailors. They were relieved ; they could 
 strike back a little, at least. Three guns on the bows 
 could be brought to bear on the Cherub; they 
 barked sharp and fast. 
 
 Some one came to the captain on the quarter-deck, 
 saluted, and reported that the spring on the cable 
 was all fast. It was David Farragut, midshipman. 
 Captain Porter gave the order to haul in on it. The 
 men laid to ; the spring tautened, swung dripping in 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 163 
 
 a narrowing zone, and snapped, parted by a chance 
 shot from the enemy. No doubt the wind, full of its 
 tricks, swerved that shot just enough to bring it 
 against the slender strand that meant a measure of 
 safety to the Essex. Who can tell ? But we do not 
 count that against the wind ; we are not certain the 
 wind did that. We only know that the wind was 
 guilty of other things that day, and worse. 
 
 The Phoebe was firing rapidly. Her shot rattled 
 through the sides of the Essex and swept across her 
 decks. Men were falling faster and faster. It was 
 deadly to stand idle and be shot down, unable to 
 strike back. Only on the bows was there firing. 
 There Joel and his men, and the two other long 
 twelves were pounding away at the Cherub. 
 
 Captain Porter, on the quarter-deck, alert, calm, 
 waited until the spring could be got on the cable 
 again. 
 
 A shot entered the port of Joel's gun. It struck 
 the piece a glancing blow and smashed into the head 
 of the Irish gunner. He had had his fill of fighting 
 soon. Harry Hotchkiss stepped forward with a 
 charge of powder in his arms, to place it in the muz- 
 zle of the gun. 
 
 Midshipman Farragut was standing by the side of 
 Captain Porter on the quarter-deck. Some one came 
 and reported a gunner skulking. Captain Porter 
 turned to the middy, a lad of twelve. " Do your 
 duty, sir," he said. 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir ! " returned the lad of twelve, 
 
i64 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 and went off, a pistol in his hand, to shoot the 
 skulker. 
 
 A cheer from the forward guns pierced the muf- 
 fled " Boom ! Boom 1 " from the British ships. The 
 Cherub was drawing away. The bows forward had 
 found her with their iron fists, and were punching 
 hard. Joel, crouched for a final shot, arose, and 
 waved his cap, leading another cheer. 
 
 A second spring was made fast to the cable ; a sec- 
 ond time the men hauled in, and a second time a 
 shot, swerved, perhaps, by the wind, cut it away as 
 the vessel was beginning to veer around to the pull, 
 so that her guns could bear on the enemy. 
 
 Now both the Phoebe and the Cherub were astern 
 of the American, pouring iron into her without re- 
 tort. The decks were horrible. Dead lay in heaps. 
 Blood sloshed in the scuppers, gritty with the sand 
 that had been sprinkled on deck to keep them from 
 becoming slippery. The Essex was taking water 
 through numerous holes between wind and wave. 
 The cockpit was filled with wounded. Their shrieks 
 and curses, their groans and sobs, were the only 
 sounds of war on the stricken vessel. You forget 
 that part of it when you are fighting yourself, but if 
 you are standing idle, waiting for your turn to come, 
 you cannot forget it. It is to you the only real part 
 of war at such a time. 
 
 Captain Porter, on the quarter-deck, gave a com- 
 mand. ' Men hurried forward and dragged three 
 long twelves the length of the ship, and thrust their 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 165 
 
 muzzles through the stern ports. In a moment the 
 defenders felt the thrilling shiver of their recoil run 
 through the decks of the vessel. They cheered 
 again. If only their carronades would carry, there 
 was still hope for them ! Hope ? There was cer- 
 tainty if only their carronades would carry ! 
 
 A third spring was got out and bent to the cable, 
 and a third time it was shot away. 
 
 But the fight was not so bad now. The British 
 fire slackened a bit. Not much ; it was hard to be 
 sure that it slackened at all, but it seemed to those 
 who were waiting that the " Boom I Boom ! " did 
 not come so rapidly. 
 
 A half hour passed. Surely, the British fire was 
 slacking off. There could be no doubt now. 
 
 Another cheer, louder, more exultant than the 
 others, jang from the deck of the Essex. It was so 
 exultant that it was answered from the cockpit by a 
 feeble few lying wounded there. They did not know 
 what the cheer was for, but they answered it, because 
 it sounded like the cheer of victory. 
 
 And it was, for the two English vessels were draw- 
 ing away. They had had enough. The three guns 
 in the after port of the Essex bit too deeply for them. 
 
 The belief in victory was short-lived. The British 
 frigates, going down the wind a short distance, wore, 
 and came back, firing as they came. That was their 
 answer to the cheer that had gone up from the Essex. 
 They had heard the note of triumph in it, far down 
 the wind, and had turned back to set the Americans 
 
i66 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 right in the matter. Having showed them that they 
 were still fighting, and intended to keep on fighting, 
 they drew off a second time to repair rigging, which 
 was in bad shape. The Americans could see the 
 British sailors squirreling about in the rigging. 
 
 It was not long before they came on again, crowd- 
 ing down on their helpless victim. This time they 
 both took position off the port quarter of the Essex, 
 away from the guns that had nibbled at their ribs so 
 uncomfortably. They hauled up at long range, the 
 Phoebe anchoring, and the Cherub standing off and 
 on firing her bow guns. 
 
 Not one gun on the Essex would bear. Captain 
 Porter, watching everything, gave another order. 
 Sailors ran here and there, laying hold of ropes and 
 halliards. " Shiver my timbers, if the old man isn't 
 going to go after them ! " cried Nick, joyfully, as he 
 grasped the foretopsail weather sheet with a half 
 dozen other sailors and began to pull away on it. 
 
 The rope hung for a moment, and then came run- 
 ning through the pulleys, offering no resistance to 
 their pulling. A loose, raveled end of it whirled to the 
 deck and twisted itself still. It had been shot away. 
 
 Every bit of the running rigging had been shot 
 away, excepting the flying jib halliard. They soon 
 found that out, trying to get sail on her. They used 
 the one rope they had, and hauled up the flying jib. 
 They loosed the foretopsail, and it came flapping 
 down. But there was neither tack nor sheet for 
 either sail, and no time to reave and bend new ones. 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 167 
 
 The sails, not sheeted home, flapped in the wind ; 
 in the wind that had been playing tricks, and was 
 ready to play more, perhaps, if need be. 
 
 Slowly, like a great bird wounded to death, the 
 Essex drifted down on the two adversaries. It w^as 
 a last desperate chance, and Captain Porter was the 
 man to take that chance. No doubt there were a 
 dozen, a score of American captains who would have 
 taken the same desperate chance, but Porter hap- 
 pened to be the one called on this time. 
 
 If he could bring his carronades into play, he hoped 
 to be able to drive off the two, crippled as he was. 
 His men thought the same. They did not look at 
 the heaps of dead and mangled about them ; they 
 did not heed the puddles of blood that their footsteps 
 tracked about the guns ; they did not hear the 
 screams of pain from the cockpit, where the surgeons 
 had no rest. They only thought of the coming 
 chance to get the enemy under those carronades. 
 
 At last the moment arrived ; they were up with the 
 British ships ; their carronades could bear. All along 
 her sides the Essex leaped into fire, hurling iron into 
 her adversaries. For a space she shook with the 
 rapid firing of her guns. 
 
 But only for a space. The Cherub, feeling the 
 drubbing, drew away. The Phoebe followed her. 
 They would take no chances ; they would worry 
 their adversary to death at long range. Like two 
 terriers, they would throw their teeth into her ribs 
 and be off before she could turn to bite back. 
 
i68 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The Americans shouted angrily after them ; they 
 had no weapons they could use except their tongues. 
 They called their brothers of England cowards, using 
 many adjectives. They were not cowards. They 
 were only trying to win the fight, which, after all, is 
 the object of all lighting. 
 
 Joel Hawes stood at his gun, idle once more. 
 Three times his crew had been swept to death by 
 the shots of the enemy. Only he remained unhurt. 
 He looked along the decks of the Essex. They were 
 running with blood. Bodies, torn by splinters, 
 mangled by shots, lay in heaps. The wounded, 
 under the hands of the surgeons in the cockpit, 
 shouted out words of cheer and encouragement be- 
 tween their groans. The cockpit had been the scene 
 of many horrors that day. Some of the shots of the 
 enemy had reached it, killing the wounded as the doc- 
 tors fought to save their lives. 
 
 They were drifting back to their anchorage in the 
 lee of the Chilean battery. Captain Porter was de- 
 termined that the Essex should not fall into the 
 hands of the British ; he was using what sail he had 
 to drive her on the beach, where he intended to burn 
 her, and escape with what was left of the crevA\ 
 
 She was making way slowly but surely toward 
 the shore. In a short time she would be close 
 enough ; they could fire her and swim to the land. 
 The British ships were following, but at a distance. 
 They could not come up in time. 
 
 Then the wind played its fifth and last trick. 
 
TRICKS ON THE ESSEX 169 
 
 Waiting until the hopes of the Americans were 
 high ; waiting until there were only a few fathoms 
 more for the Essex to float over, it suddenly veered 
 and blew straight in the face of the drifting frigate. 
 The remnants of the sails flapped back ; her head- 
 way stopped, and she commenced to slide slowly 
 backward toward the oncoming enemy. 
 
 A small boat M'as coming out of the harbor from 
 the Essex Junior. The Essex Junior had been or- 
 dered to keep out of the fight. It was only an old 
 whaling ship fixed over to do service against mer- 
 chantmen ; it could not fight with a frigate. But 
 Lieutenant Downes could stand it no longer ; he was 
 coming aboard to see what he could do. 
 
 Lieutenant Downes came aboard. Captain Porter 
 called a conference of the officers. Only one re- 
 sponded, Lieutenant Stephen Decatur McKnight. 
 Only one could. The others were killed. Lieuten- 
 ant Wilmer had been knocked into the water by a 
 splinter and drowned. Lieutenant Cowell had died 
 of a desperate wound ; his leg had been shot off. 
 His life might have been saved by prompt attention, 
 but when the surgeon was going to leave the work 
 he was doing to attend to him, Lieutenant Cowell 
 would not permit it. " No, doctor, none of that," 
 he said. " Fair play's a jewel. One man's life is 
 as dear as another's ; I would not cheat any poor 
 fellow out of his turn." Barnewell, sailing-master, 
 had fainted from his wounds and loss of blood. 
 
 The three officers talked on the quarter-deck in 
 
lyo BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 low tones ; the British ships were drawing near ; al- 
 ready they were beginning to fire again. They de- 
 cided that one chance remained. They would get 
 out the sheet-anchor. Perhaps the wind, which had 
 veered, as has been told, would drive away the 
 enemy and give the Essex a chance to breathe. 
 Porter ordered the anchor over, and Lieutenant 
 Downes left for the Essex Junior, carrying off some 
 of the wounded, and leaving three sailors he had 
 brought with him, who insisted on dying with the 
 old ship. The British fired on the small boat as it 
 put back to the Essex Junior, but did not hit it. 
 
 The storm of iron was sweeping over them again. 
 Acting Lieutenant Odenheimer, superintending the 
 catting of the sheet-anchor, was struck by a huge, 
 whirling splinter and knocked into the bay. 
 
 The anchor splashed into the water ; the cable 
 rumbled through the hawser holes. The Essex 
 checked her sternway, and swung around. The 
 carronades were ranging into line again. Hope re- 
 vived. And then, just as a murderous storm of shot 
 broke over the decks of the frigate from the oncom- 
 ing enemy, it died again. The hawser parted, and 
 the Essex began to drift once more upon the British 
 frigates, unmanageable, helpless. 
 
 Hawes heard the voice of Bissly, the Scotchman, 
 at the next gun. He turned from watching the 
 Phoebe, working carefully up toward them. Bissly's 
 face was as white as the breast of a gull, and as free 
 from expression. He was standing on one leg, 
 
TRICKS ON THE BSSBX 171 
 
 leaning against the gun-carriage. The stump of the 
 other leg hung in the air. A knotted handkerchief 
 had been twisted about it to stop the flow, but the 
 blood ran in a stream from where the man stood. 
 " I left my own country and adopted the United 
 States to fight for her," Bissly said. " I hope I have 
 this day proved myself worthy of the country of my 
 adoption. I am no longer of any use to her, or to 
 you, so good-bye." Before a hand could stop him 
 he hopped to the gun-port, twisted himself through 
 it, and fell into the water. 
 
 Joel turned away with a lump in his throat and a 
 moist eye. His glance fell on the face of young 
 Hotchkiss, pierced by the sliver that had killed him. 
 The look with which he had died was still on his 
 features. Joel clenched his hands and held a cry of 
 rage in his throat. It was butchery ; it was not a 
 fair fight to stand off like that and slaughter, with- 
 out giving a chance for a return. 
 
 Then, with a great smothered roar, the entire ship 
 lurched and leaped, as though she would leave the 
 water. Great volumes of smoke poured from the 
 hatchways. Men rushed on deck. A magazine, 
 with what little powder was left in it, had blown up. 
 And they were still drifting helplessly on the enemy, 
 who still fired into them without ceasing. 
 
 Captain Porter, cool, calm, infinitely sad, looked 
 down the hatches, where he could see the flames 
 flickering in the wake of the explosion, and glanced 
 at the approaching ships of the enemy, still firing 
 
172 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 into them. " Those who wish to leave the ship may 
 jump overboard and swim to shore," he said, and 
 the word was passed. 
 
 Although the flames were beginning to tongue 
 through the hatches, although the British were upon 
 them, although the frigate was shot to pieces in the 
 body, and her sailing gear was a mass of tangled 
 wreckage, only a few left the ship. They would 
 rather die at their posts. 
 
 But David Porter would not ask the last sacrifice 
 of those that were left. Already fifty-eight had been 
 killed and sixty-six wounded, out of the crew of two 
 hundred and fifty-five. Sadly the great heart gave 
 up, and surrendered the ship. 
 
 And the wind, which had played such tricks on 
 the frigate Essex, carried the last wisp of smoke 
 from the silent guns out upon the great sea where 
 the craft had won undying glory. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE CHEESE-BOX 
 
 The night of March 8, 1862, was a heavy night 
 at Washington, and throughout the Northern states. 
 That day a fighting monster of a ship had come out 
 of the EHzabeth River and destroyed two of the 
 Union ships in Hampton Roads, and no one could 
 think of anything to prevent her returning in the 
 morning to destroy the rest. She was an invincible 
 monster, with great guns protected by a thick hide 
 of iron, and a ram that tore huge holes in the sides 
 of the wooden ships that were opposed to her. No 
 one could see what would prevent her from making 
 away with the Union fleet ; the entire North expected 
 that she would be able to steam up to Washington, 
 lay the city in ashes, and devastate the Atlantic sea- 
 board. It was a night of hopelessness and of panic. 
 
 The monster that had struck such terror through 
 the North was the old steam frigate Merrimac which 
 had been burned when the Federal government 
 abandoned and destroyed the navy-yard at Ports- 
 mouth, in Virginia, early in the war. The Confed- 
 erates had taken what was left of her, cut her down 
 to the berth deck, and built a casemate over her of 
 heavy timber, faced with four inches of iron. They 
 
174 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 had filled her with guns, and fitted her with a beak 
 of iron with which to ram her enemies. They had 
 called her the Virginia, and we will speak of her by 
 that name, although she is usually known in history 
 by her former name, the Merrimac. 
 
 On the eighth of March she had steamed out from 
 the Elizabeth Rivers and descended upon the fleet. 
 She had sunk the frigate Cumbcrlmid of thirty guns, 
 which had gone down fighting, and set fire to the 
 Congress, of forty guns, after a hopelessly one-sided 
 contest. The wooden ships had been powerless 
 against her ; their shot had dribbled off her iron 
 sides, doing no damage. 
 
 There was only one slim hope that her career of 
 destruction might be arrested. The hope was faint ; 
 pinned on a trifle. For a long time a man named 
 John Ericsson, an engineer and inventor, had dreamed 
 a dream about a war vessel that should be able to 
 cope w4th anything afloat. This man was a Dane. 
 He had got his first idea from watching log rafts in 
 Swedish lakes. These rafts had a little hut built on 
 them for the raft-man. Ericsson's dream was to build 
 a boat like a raft, and place on top of it a round 
 iron tower to carry guns. He had submitted his 
 plans in 1854 to Napoleon III, Emperor of France, 
 hoping the French would use the craft against Rus- 
 sia, whom Ericsson hated wdth a racial hatred. But 
 Napoleon had only laughed, and sent the visionary 
 inventor about his Danish business. 
 
 When the Civil War had been under way for a 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX 175 
 
 few months, and the Federal government learned 
 that the Confederates were remodeling the old Mer- 
 rimac into a new-fashioned ironclad, the Navy De- 
 partment had bestirred itself to match the monster 
 with another, and had asked for designs. Among 
 the designs submitted was one by Ericsson for a 
 tower on a raft such as he had long dreamed of. 
 
 His plan was laughed at. One of the three mem- 
 bers of the naval board that was to pass on the 
 designs submitted sent word that Ericsson might 
 "take the little thing home and worship it, as it 
 would not be idolatry, because it was in the image of 
 nothing in the heaven above, or on the earth be- 
 neath, or in the waters under the earth." But in 
 sheer desperation the board finally consented to have 
 a boat built on Ericsson's design for trial, with the 
 understanding that if it were not a success the money 
 would be paid back to the United States. 
 
 That was enough for the inventor, and three 
 months later the vessel was completed. Above her 
 hull was built an overhanging platform, heavily 
 armored with iron, so designed that only a foot of it 
 extended above the water. On top of the platform 
 was a round tower twenty feet wide and nine high, 
 made of eight thicknesses of one-inch iron bolted to- 
 gether. The tower, or turret, was made to revolve 
 by machinery, sliding about on a copper bearing. 
 It had two gun-ports, and two eleven-inch guns. 
 The tower was intended to be turned from the enemy 
 while the guns, which were muzzle loaders, were 
 
176 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 drawn in and loaded, and turned back to bring the 
 guns to bear when they were ready to be fired. 
 Forward the tower was a conning tower, extending 
 four feet above the deck, made of heavy iron, with 
 slits in it through which a view could be obtained of 
 the enemy. Here was the wheel, and here the post 
 of the commander ; he had to fight his ship through 
 those narrow slits. 
 
 The engines, the galley, and living quarters, every 
 part of the ship but the two towers and the smoke- 
 stack, were in the hull, under the level of the water. 
 The officers and crew had no light but lamps, and no 
 air excepting what was brought to them by fans. 
 All the gases from the fires under the boilers, all the 
 smells of the engine and the galley, and all the foul 
 air from the breathing men cooped up in the box, 
 had to be cleaned out by the fans. It was a dismal 
 and dangerous hole, one at which sailors shuddered. 
 There was much doubt as to whether, in a seaway, 
 the overhanging platform would not be torn away 
 from the hull ; whether the craft was not top-heavy, 
 and would not capsize ; whether, in fact, she would 
 float at all. When the makers launched her they 
 were so uncertain whether she would float that they 
 built floats of wood to catch under her stern as it 
 rushed down the ways. But she did float, and she 
 was ready for a trial trip on the nineteenth of Febru- 
 ary. On the fourth of March her guns were mounted 
 and a board of naval officers reported favorably on 
 her. 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX 177 
 
 At the request of Mr. Ericsson the new craft was 
 called The Monitor ; for he believed she would be a 
 monitor to the Confederates and to the powers in 
 Europe that were looking on ; that she would warn 
 and caution and advise them to respect the powers 
 and resources of the United States of America. It 
 was to this little craft, untried, laughed at by many, 
 doubted by most, that the sole hope of the country 
 turned. 
 
 There had been mad haste at the last to make her 
 ready, when it was learned that the Virginia was 
 Hearing completion ; and on the sixth of March, two 
 days before the Confederate ironclad appeared and 
 spread havoc and alarm through the Union fleet, the 
 Monitor, in tow of the tug Seth Low, steamed out 
 upon the boisterous waters of the Atlantic. 
 
 They were not less than heroes who went with her 
 that day ! Never before had craft like that ventured 
 across the relentless waves of the high seas. In their 
 memories was the knowledge of the wicked power of 
 the boisterous water, and in their ears the echo of 
 the doubts that had been raised against the Monitor. 
 They could not be sure whether the worst that had 
 been said might not be too true. Huddled into the 
 black hole, cramped, helpless to save themselves 
 from possible disaster, they placed their lives on the 
 hazard, and waited. 
 
 It was not long before their fears were aroused. 
 They ran into a wind and sea ; the waves broke over 
 the deck, nearly awash, and swirled angrily about 
 
178 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 the round turret. Water poured in torrents through 
 the seam between turret and deck, which had been 
 calked for the trip, but from which the hemp calking 
 was torn by the yanking waves. Waves broke over 
 the stack and wet the fires, nearly putting them out. 
 The men had forgotten to stop the hawse holes, 
 and solid water rushed in through them. The belts 
 on the ventilating fans became wet, and slipped, 
 shutting off the supply of air from the men and the 
 engine fires. There was not enough steam to work 
 the steam pumps, and the hand pumps were not 
 strong enough to lift the water to the top of the tur- 
 ret, which was the only place it could be discharged. 
 Gas from the engine accumulated ; two men, trying 
 to check it, were made unconscious, and saved only 
 at great risk to their rescuers. Danger of founder- 
 ing or of suffocating was intense, when the tug 
 managed to drag the floundering craft inshore to 
 smoother water. Luckily the wind was offshore. 
 Once again before they reached Cape Henry they 
 went through a rough sea that nearly foundered 
 them. It was not until the afternoon of the eighth 
 that they passed the Cape to safety. As they passed 
 they heard the guns of the Virgmia and her helpless 
 victims, and knew they were none too soon. The 
 glare of the burning Congress was in the sky as they 
 steamed toward Hampton Roads. 
 
 The Monitor had been ordered to proceed to the 
 defense of Washington, but the commander of the 
 fleet exceeded his orders and held her to contest the 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX 179 
 
 waters with the invincible enemy. She passed into 
 the lee of the Minnesota^ aground and expecting the 
 attack of the Virginia in the morning. Exhausted 
 though they were by the terrible trip from New 
 York, the men spent the night in preparation for 
 the battle, knowing that all the hope of the navy 
 hung on their untried craft. They could not guess 
 what another day would bring them, but they did not 
 flinch from the trial. And the government at Wash- 
 ington, knowing that the Mojiitor had arrived at the 
 fleet, breathed more easily ; it is human to hope 
 when there is a chance for hope. 
 
 The mists of morning, breaking slowly from the 
 shore, revealed the enemy, black and forbidding, 
 against the background of Virginia. Black smoke 
 presently began to pour from her funnels, and she 
 was observed to swing slowly into the tide and make 
 toward the Minnesota. At a distance of a mile she 
 threw a shot toward the stricken ship which she 
 had come forth to destroy. And then the men 
 aboard her saw the little round box slip from the 
 shelter of the larger craft and steal across toward 
 them. The " Yankee cheese-box on a raft " had come 
 to give them battle. 
 
 Think for a minute of those men in the cheese-box. 
 Their boat was a complete experiment. There had 
 never been another like her in war. And this one 
 had never met even the weakest foe by way of trial. 
 Her guns had never been fired from her turrets, and 
 her turret had never received the impact of a blow. 
 
i8o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 They were going forth to grapple with a vessel of 
 known strength ; one that had proved herself su- 
 perior to anything afloat. Perhaps the first shot 
 would come tearing through and catch them all 
 cooped up in the iron box from which there was no 
 escape. Or perhaps it would unsettle the turret so 
 that it could not be stirred. And they could not 
 even see their opponent. Nevertheless they went 
 forth without flinching. 
 
 At a distance of half a mile, the Virginia fired her 
 bow gun, but the shot went wild. One thing, at 
 least, was in the favor of the men in the turret ; the 
 cheese-box was hard to hit. Slowly the two drew 
 together. The massy turret squealed on its bear- 
 ings ; the huge guns bore on the iron sides of the 
 enemy. They belched forth, leaping in their car- 
 riages. The floor of the turret jerked under the re- 
 coil, but there was only a muffled roar of the gun-fire 
 in the ears of the men inside. 
 
 In the next instant the Virginia let go her star- 
 board broadside ; the supreme moment of test had 
 come. The shells rattled against the iron of the tur- 
 ret. The men inside looked about them with eager 
 glances. All was well ; the shots had not come 
 through, and the blows against the iron plating had 
 done no harm to those within. Then the turret be- 
 gan to turn, and they knew that its bearings w^re 
 not jammed. They took heart, reloading their 
 guns with great good cheer. 
 
 It took them seven or eight minutes to load and 
 
^ 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX i8i 
 
 fire. Those inside saw nothing of their enemy ex- 
 cept when the turret swung its ports toward her, 
 when they caught a glimpse of her huge sides. In 
 that glimpse they had to fire. Not knowing at what 
 moment the other ship might appear in view through 
 the ports, they had to wait with ready guns for the 
 instant, and then discharge their weapons. It was 
 shooting on the fly. 
 
 Peeking through the ports in these glimpses, they 
 saw with sinking heart that their shots were doing lit- 
 tle or no damage. The tremendous resisting strength 
 of the other threw ofT the eleven-inch shot as easily 
 as it had thrown ofT the ten-inch shot the day before. 
 Nevertheless they kept on firing, taking courage 
 from the fact that their own craft was still exempt 
 from injury. 
 
 Lieutenant Worden, the commander, in the pilot 
 house, peeking through the slits, perceived that he 
 was doing no harm, and manoeuvered to ram his 
 enemy. This way and that the two jockeyed, the 
 pigmy and the giant, seeking for advantage, and 
 firing as they swung about. Presently, with a rush, 
 the tiny craft hurled herself toward the stern of the 
 other, hoping to disable the propeller or steering 
 gear. The blow missed the mark by two feet, and 
 the Monitor slid off. But in the instant of impact an 
 eleven-inch shot from her turret found the walls of 
 the Virginia, broke through the plates, and mashed 
 the wood, barely stopping short of entering the case- 
 mate. The blow threw all the Confederate gunners 
 
182 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 from their guns, and the concussion started their 
 noses and ears to bleeding. 
 
 The difficulty in aiming at the Virginia increased 
 with every shot. Broad white marks had been made 
 on the stationary floor on which the turret swung to 
 show which was the bow and which the stern of the ves- 
 sel, but these had become covered with soot and grime 
 until they were invisible. Those inside could only 
 guess which way they were going, and where the 
 enemy bore ; it did them no good now to learn that she 
 was off the port bow, or the starboard quarter. 
 Through all the arc of the turret's swing they had to 
 watch for the enemy, with nothing to hint to them 
 when it might wheel into view. And there was 
 great danger of their mistaking their own pilot house 
 in the smoke ; danger that an excited gunner might 
 throw one of the huge shot into it, and win the fight 
 for the enemy. At the same time, they grew dizzy 
 and confused ; the fumes of their guns were choking 
 them. But they kept on. 
 
 Finding that she could accomplish nothing against 
 the cheese-box, the Virginia bore off and started for 
 the Miimesota, aground on the shoals at the edge 
 of the channel. Three times she sent shot and shell 
 into the wooden hull of the helpless adversary, doing 
 terrible damage ; but after the third the little Monitor, 
 dogging at her heels, caught up with her and made 
 her turn. 
 
 Maddened by the nagging attack. Lieutenant 
 Jones, commander of the Virginia, tried to ram. The 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX 183 
 
 bow of the Virginia struck the flat platform, sHd up 
 upon it, and sheered ofT, pushing the Monitor away. 
 The only harm done was to the bottom of the ram- 
 ming vessel. 
 
 Failing that, the Confederates prepared to board, 
 but when the time came for them to make the attempt, 
 the Monitor slipped into shallow water, where the 
 other could not follow, and was safe. 
 
 It was then that the Confederates first picked up 
 heart ; for it was then that the Monitor drew out of the 
 fight. They thought the little cheese-box had had 
 enough, and were of good cheer. But they did not 
 know. The Monitor'' s ammunition was fed from the 
 hold through a scuttle in the main deck into a scuttle 
 in the floor of the turret. It could be passed through 
 only when the two scuttles were one over the other. 
 All the ammunition on deck had been used up, and 
 it was necessary to withdraw, bring the two scuttles 
 together, and pass up more before continuing the 
 fight. 
 
 That done, the Monitor returned, like the bulldog 
 that she was, to fasten her teeth again in the mastiff. 
 Lieutenant Jones, despairing of accomplishing any- 
 thing against the turret, ordered the fire of the guns 
 to be directed toward the pilot house. A swarm of 
 mighty shot hurled against the iron barricade. One 
 of them, bursting at one of the slits through which 
 Lieutenant Worden was looking, filled his eyes and 
 face with burnt powder and iron dust, blinding him, 
 and causing him to reel with pain. Believing that 
 
1 84 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 the blow had destroyed the pilot house, Worden 
 ordered the Monitor to haul off. 
 
 They took him below into the cabin, leading him 
 blinded down the passages. " Is the Mmiiesota 
 saved ? " he asked. 
 
 They told him that it was. 
 
 " Thank God 1 " he cried. " Then I can die." 
 
 Lieutenant Greene, taking command, hurried to 
 the pilot house to see what damage had been done. 
 He found that the wheel was still intact, and that the 
 iron barricade was whole. Learning that, he started 
 back into the fight. It was then noon. 
 
 But the Virginia, seeing the other draw off when 
 Worden was wounded, had believed that she had 
 quit, and had started back for her berth behind the 
 Confederate forts on the Virginia shore. Greene 
 followed and threw three shots after her, to let the 
 enemy know that he was still ready for more. But 
 the enemy had had enough. The little cheese-box 
 had done her work well. 
 
 The Virginia did not molest the Union vessels 
 again. Once she came out, offering battle, but the 
 Monitor, under orders from Washington to fight 
 only in case of absolute necessity, did not accept 
 the challenge. And so the fleet, and Washing- 
 ton, and New York, and, perhaps, the country, were 
 saved. 
 
 The Virginia was afterward destroyed by the 
 Confederates when Norfolk was abandoned to the 
 Federal forces, and the Monitor sank in a storm off 
 
THE CHEESE-BOX 185 
 
 Cape Hatteras, on her way to the southern Atlantic 
 coast. 
 
 But the deeds they did, and the fight they fought, 
 will live forever. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 
 
 You have heard, of course, how David Glascoe 
 Farragut climbed into the rigging of the Hartford, 
 his flag-ship at the Battle of Mobile Bay, and directed 
 the fight from above the smoke, and you have 
 thought it was a very brave thing for him to stay up 
 there, exposed to view and the fire of Fort Morgan 
 and the enemy's ships. It was a brave thing for 
 him to do. A man must be very brave to go into 
 such a struggle of great guns and keep his wits 
 about him, seeing everything and deciding upon 
 the right thing to do each moment. 
 
 Perhaps, as a matter of fact, he was in less danger 
 in the rigging than he would have been on the 
 quarter-deck, swept with flying slivers and the 
 heavy shot of the enemy. The Confederate gun- 
 ners were not aiming at the rigging of his ship, and 
 they could not see him where he stood because of 
 the smoke. Of course he did not go into the rig- 
 ging because there was less danger there, but be- 
 cause he could see better what was going on ; he 
 thought of the danger neither one way nor another. 
 
 But let me tell you of two other things he did 
 that day that were much braver than that. 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 187 
 
 Mobile Bay is shaped like a huge bell, thirty miles 
 long and twenty wide at the bottom, which is toward 
 the Gulf of Mexico. The bottom of the bell, next 
 the gulf, is almost entirely closed by islands and 
 shoals which leave only a narrow passage through 
 which large ships can pass. This channel runs be- 
 tween two of the islands ; Dauphin Island to the 
 west, and Edith's Hammock to the east, passing two 
 miles from the first, but only a few hundred yards 
 from the second. 
 
 The Confederates had seized and strengthened the 
 forts that the United States government had built 
 long before on these islands, calling the one, on 
 Dauphin Island, Fort Gaines, and the other. Fort 
 Morgan. They were both tremendously strong 
 forts. The Confederates had driven piles into the 
 bottom from Fort Gaines almost to the edge of the 
 channel, and from the end of the line of piles they 
 had planted torpedoes in three rows, carrying them 
 into the channel. At the end of the rows of torpe- 
 does was a red buoy ; it was necessary to pass be- 
 tween that buoy and Fort Morgan to gain the bay 
 from the gulf, which brought any vessel that tried 
 to get through right up to the guns of Morgan. 
 The guns were so many and so heavy that it was 
 almost hopeless for a ship to pass without being 
 sunk. 
 
 Inside the bay, anchored near Fort Morgan, the 
 Confederates had an iron-clad ram, the Teiinessee^ 
 that was stronger than any vessel afloat. She was 
 
i88 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 made of heavy thicknesses of pine and oak covered 
 with five inches of iron. The sides slanted back- 
 ward at an angle of forty-five degrees, so that balls 
 that struck against them would glance off into the 
 air. Her body was so stout with heavy beams of 
 wood that she could not be injured by being run 
 into and rammed. She carried six guns, two on 
 each side and one each at the bow and stern. The 
 guns were fired through ports in her slanting sides, 
 which could be covered by sliding five-inch plates 
 of iron. And she had a terrible ram at her bows. 
 She was a much more savage fighter than the Vir- 
 ginia^ that had played havoc with the United States 
 fleet in Hampton Roads two years before ; there was 
 nothing in the Union navy that could contend with 
 her, excepting, perhaps, some of the monitors, of 
 which a number had been built since the original 
 Mom'for saved the fleet in Virginia waters. 
 
 One of the things that had quite as much to do 
 with ending the Civil War as anything else was the 
 blockade of Southern ports by the Northern navy. 
 The entire coast was patrolled to prevent ships from 
 going in and out. The Southerners could not send 
 out their cotton and sugar to sell, or bring in the 
 things they needed in carrying on the war. That is, 
 it was intended that they should not be able to do 
 so. As a matter of fact, many vessels, built for the 
 purpose, did go in and out of the Southern ports 
 carrying trade, and the blockade was not complete. 
 It was Farragut's problem to get past the forts 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 189 
 
 guarding the entrance to Mobile Bay and obtain 
 control of the bay, so that no more vessels could 
 slip in and out at that point, which, after the fall of 
 New Orleans, was one of the most important ports 
 in the entire South. 
 
 To accomplish this purpose he had a fleet of 
 wooden war vessels which stood no chance against 
 the Confederate ram Tennessee. He begged the 
 government to send him some monitors, and to 
 supply a land force to help hold the bay after he 
 should get inside. But it was many months before 
 these things were done. If Washington had acted 
 at once, Farragut could have gone in before the ram 
 was completed, and before the forts had been made 
 as strong as they were at the time of the fight. 
 Early in August a small army came, and four moni- 
 tors, two of them with two turrets, and Farragut 
 was ready. 
 
 He planned to make the attempt on the fourth of 
 August, but something prevented. That night he 
 was ill, and slept but little. He wanted two things 
 to help him in. One was a wind from the west or 
 southwest, which would blow the smoke of battle 
 into the eyes of the gunners in Fort Morgan so that 
 they could not see where to aim. Fort Gaines was 
 so far away that it did not count. The other thing 
 he needed was a flood-tide. 
 
 The flood-tide has to do with one of the brave 
 things he did. Let me show you how. The torpe- 
 does that the Confederates had planted in three 
 
I90 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 rows as far as the red buoy, to force into the clutches 
 of Fort Morgan any vessel that passed, were fitted 
 with triggers to set them off. These triggers were 
 arranged on the tops of the torpedoes, which were 
 made of barrels or large tin tubs. A vessel striking 
 against them would spring the trigger and explode 
 the torpedo. 
 
 What has that to do with a flood-tide ? I will tell 
 you. Of course you know that a flood-tide run- 
 ning in through the mouth of a gulf or bay sets up 
 a strong current. Farragut knew how the torpedoes 
 were made, and he knew that they were anchored 
 by cables to the bottom. He figured that if the 
 tide was running in strong, the torpedoes would be 
 dragged by it and would swing on their cables, 
 which would pull them down on a slant, and partly 
 turn them over, so that the triggers, which were on 
 top of the torpedoes, would be held away from ships 
 coming down the tide from outside the bay. Like 
 this: 
 
 ^i^rface ofSa^ 
 
 a^. Torpedo Z-'Ttigtiv C- nncn«r 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 191 
 
 Also, of course, the strong tide would help carry 
 the vessels in, if they should be crippled by the fire 
 from the fort. 
 
 It was easy enough to take advantage of the flood- 
 tides ; there were two a day, and they came at pretty 
 definite times, unless the wind happened to fight 
 them down and delay them. One of the flood- 
 tides, everybody knew, would be strong at five or 
 six o'clock the next morning. But no one could tell 
 when the wind would be blowing from the west or 
 southwest. 
 
 At three o'clock on the morning of August fifth, 
 Farragut, half sick and restless, was visited in his 
 cabin by the steward. 
 
 " Which way is the wind ? " he asked. 
 
 The steward, being only a steward, hadn't noticed. 
 He went up on deck to observe, and came down to 
 report that it was westerly. 
 
 " Good ! " exclaimed Farragut. " We'll go in this 
 morning." 
 
 Presently little silver whistles began to tinkle 
 through the fleet, piping all hands. The fighting 
 men came running on deck, eager for battle, bring- 
 ing with them their hammocks, which they hung and 
 piled around them to protect themselves as well as 
 possible from the swarms of splinters that would soon 
 be flying about, torn and scattered by the Confeder- 
 ate guns. 
 
 Every preparation had been made for the passage 
 of the fort. The commanders of the several vessels 
 
192 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 of the fleet had protected and strengthened their 
 ships in every way they could, with iron plates, and 
 chains, and bags of sand ; one of the boats had a 
 breastwork of sand-bags behind her sides running 
 from bow to stern. All the guns that could be ac- 
 commodated were dragged to the starboard side of 
 the ships, which would be next the fort. 
 
 The fleet steamed in pairs ; each of the larger ves- 
 sels had one of the smaller lashed to her on the out- 
 side, away from the fort. This served two purposes. 
 The smaller would be protected from almost certain 
 destruction by being sheltered, and at the same time 
 would be able to tow the larger through the fire if it 
 should become disabled. 
 
 Farragut had been prevailed upon to permit the 
 Brooklyn, a large wooden ship, to lead the fleet. In 
 approaching the passage it was necessary to run 
 head on toward the fort for a distance, and the 
 Brooklyn had more bow guns that could be brought 
 to bear than the flag-ship. The Hartford came next 
 in line. The four monitors steamed a little ahead of 
 the others, and to the right, nearer the fort. The 
 other vessels, ten more pairs in all, came in line be- 
 hind, in divisions of four pairs. In that order they 
 crossed the bar in the early morning, and moved 
 toward the fort. 
 
 One of the monitors, the Tecumseh, in advance, 
 fired two fifteen-inch shells at the fort without reply. 
 Her commander, Captain T. A. M. Craven, seeing 
 the ram Tennessee poke her nose from behind the 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 193 
 
 fort and pass leisurely across to the westward, turned 
 to follow, neglecting the red buoy that marked the 
 end of the rows of torpedoes. He had his instruc- 
 tions to destroy the ram, and he set out to do it, let 
 the torpedoes be where they might. 
 
 Farragut meanwhile had climbed into the main 
 rigging to be clear of the smoke. His own vessel, 
 and the Brooklyn ahead of him, were now roaring 
 with their great guns at the enemy's fort ; the rat- 
 lines shook and twanged with the recoil. Farragut, 
 seeing everything, saw the water lift and boil under 
 the bow of the Tecumseh, saw her fiing her nose from 
 right to left, and lurch under the waves. She had 
 been blown up by a torpedo, and had carried nearly 
 a hundred men to the bottom with her. Captain 
 Craven, in the pilot house with the pilot, had stood 
 aside to let the other escape. When his turn came 
 it was too late ; he w^as drowned with the others. 
 
 The battle was now in full blast. The fort was 
 hurling its shot and shell and canister into the 
 Union ships, right under its nose, and those that 
 could bring their guns to bear were replying. A 
 great cloud of sulphurous smoke drifted between the 
 vessels and the fort. 
 
 Suddenly the Brooklyn, in advance, stopped and 
 began to back. Farragut saw it coming toward the 
 Hartford, stern first. He hailed, and learned that 
 she was trying to escape the fate that had just met 
 the Tecumseh. Then he did a very brave thing. 
 
 " Damn the torpedoes ! " he said. " Follow me ! " 
 
194 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 And without stopping to count the risk he headed 
 his ship outside the buoy directly across the nest 
 of torpedoes that had been planted to destroy 
 them. 
 
 Her men, seeing what was taking place, waited 
 with set faces for the blow from beneath that they 
 expected would destroy them. They waited for it, 
 but they did not flinch. As they waited, they could 
 hear the grating of the deadly weapons beneath the 
 water as the hull ran over them ; those in the am- 
 munition room below heard the horrid things scrap- 
 ing the bottom. Up in the ratlines, with a line 
 about his body tying him to the shrouds, placed 
 there by order of the vessel's captain, stood Farra- 
 gut, seeing everything, thinking nothing of the tor- 
 pedoes. 
 
 Behind the Hartford came the Richmond. The 
 Brooklyn, still floundering about, got in the way. 
 The Rich7nond was forced to back to avoid a colli- 
 sion. In backing she bore off and brought her 
 broadside fully to bear on the fort. Out sprang a 
 storm of shot and shell and canister that tore 
 through the embrasures of the fort, driving the men 
 from the guns, and slackening the enemy's fire. At 
 last the two got free of each other and followed the 
 Hartford over the field of mines. The Hartford was 
 now a mile ahead. The din was furious. 
 
 Coming toward them, formidable, frightful, was 
 the ram Tennessee, stronger than any vessel in their 
 fieet ; stronger than the Virginia that had destroyed 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 195 
 
 the Cumberland and Congress in Hampton Roads. 
 Head on toward the Hartford she came. As she 
 approached, the Hartford, quicker and faster than 
 she, pulled to one side, avoiding her, and sending in 
 a broadside that rattled against the iron protection 
 and slid over her, or tumbled in fragments into the 
 water. It seemed hopeless to try to cope with her. 
 The ram turned to follow the fiag-ship. 
 
 Nor was that the only danger that threatened Far- 
 ragut. Three Confederate gunboats, mounting stern 
 chasers, kept ahead of him, out of reach of his broad- 
 sides, and poured their raking fire along his decks. 
 The ship was a shambles. Blood ran in her scup- 
 pers ; splinters and shreds of human flesh filled the 
 air, showering on the deck of the Metacomet, the 
 consort that was lashed to her. The Hartford was 
 helpless against them, having only one gun that 
 would bear. But she kept on, drawing out of range 
 of the fort. 
 
 Presently the ram, dogging at her heels, turned 
 and passed down the line of approaching ships. The 
 Brooklyn and Richmond meanwhile had cleared 
 themselves and were coming on in support of the 
 Hartford, now a mile ahead. She passed the Brook- 
 lyn with a broadside ; one shell tore through and 
 through the wooden sides of the Union vessel. The 
 Richmond met her with a fire that disconcerted the 
 ram's gunners, so that her answering shots went 
 wide. She passed on until she came to the Monon- 
 gahela, which tried to ram, but struck only a glanc- 
 
196 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ing blow. The Ossippee^ coming next, received two 
 shot that pierced her. The Oneida, following, in 
 crippled condition, was saved from a broadside only 
 by the failure of the Tennessee^ s primers. Passing 
 under the stern of the Oneida^ the ram raked her, 
 killing and wounding many, among them Captain 
 MuUany, her commander, who lost an arm. She 
 was about to rake again when the monitor Winne- 
 bago, which had been attending to the fort all this 
 time, steamed in between them and engaged the 
 Tennessee. The Winnebagd s captain, Stevens, had 
 been the captain of the Oneida, but had turned over 
 command to Mullany, whose vessel was not suitable 
 for such a fight. There were two turrets on the 
 Winnebago. In one of them was a conning tower, 
 from which the officers were supposed to direct the 
 fighting. But Captain Stevens found it difficult to 
 see all that was going on through the little slits pro- 
 vided for that purpose in the conning tower, and was 
 out on deck, pacing between the two turrets, the 
 only man visible about her, exposed to all the ter- 
 rible fire that was rushing back and forth through 
 the air. 
 
 At the head of the line the Hartford was having 
 an easier time of it. As soon as the Tennessee had 
 left off pursuit, Farragut ordered the Metacomet to 
 cut loose and chase the gunboats that were playing 
 havoc on the decks of the flag-ship, and Lieutenant 
 Jouet, her commander, started after them, driving 
 them up the bay. One of them was disabled and 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 197 
 
 run ashore near the fort, another escaped, but a 
 third, the Selma, was overhauled and taken. 
 
 That ended the first round. The entire fleet passed 
 Fort Morgan and joined the Hartford, four miles 
 above. They knew the worst of it was not over ; 
 that the dreadful Tennessee yet remained to be des- 
 troyed, but for the present they could rest. The 
 sailors fell to clearing up their ships, restoring order, 
 washing off the blood. The odor of coffee filled 
 their nostrils, and they heard the clatter of mess-gear 
 being set out for their breakfast. It was then eight 
 o'clock. 
 
 In the midst of preparations for breakfast came the 
 alarm that the Tennessee was returning, and they saw 
 her steaming up the bay toward them, trailing a 
 long streamer of black smoke behind as she came. 
 Then Farragut did the second brave thing of that 
 day. Knowing perfectly well that she was stronger 
 than any vessel he had ; that her ram could crush 
 through the sides of his vessels as though they had 
 been paper, and that shot would rattle and tumble 
 off her sides like hail, he nevertheless turned back to 
 meet her. Coffee was forgotten ; stains of blood 
 were left uncleansed. There might well be more 
 stains before they were done, or there might 
 well be no need to wash them. Perhaps the 
 waters of Mobile Bay would do that with incessant 
 lapping. 
 
 " Destroy the ram," was the signal to the monitors. 
 
 " Ram the principal vessel of the enemy," was the 
 
198 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 signal to the Lackawanna, the MonongaJiela, and the 
 Ossippee, which lay nearer her than the others. 
 
 Right bravely did they turn to the attack. The 
 Monongahela steamed into the Tennessee with a 
 mighty rush, head on, striking her amidships and at 
 right angles, receiving in the act two shells that tore 
 through her. The blow did nothing to the ram. In 
 a moment the Lackawaimay coming up from the other 
 side, struck her a second blow, full, and at right 
 angles. The Tennessee heeled over and swung 
 around broadside to her antagonist, but no harm had 
 been done her. 
 
 And now came the Hartford, under full steam, 
 bearing down upon her enemy, Farragut on her 
 decks, thinking only to destroy the formidable foe. 
 But just as he came the Tennessee sheered off, so 
 that she received only a glancing blow. . . . All 
 the pounding shot the three were pouring against 
 her iron sides only shattered themselves to pieces. 
 
 Now the monitors came up. The Manhattan 
 hurled a fifteen-inch shot against the ram that broke 
 through the iron and slivered the huge beams sup- 
 porting it, but did not pass inside. The Winnebagd s 
 turret machinery was broken so that she had to turn 
 in the water to bring the guns to bear, but the 
 Chickasaw, the third monitor, with two turrets, was 
 luckier. She fastened herself on the stern of the 
 ram and began to chew with her great guns at the 
 barrier that protected the men. Blow on blow fell 
 against the massy walls of the craft ; blows that 
 
THE MAN IN THE RIGGING 199 
 
 could not be returned, because the port-lids had be- 
 come jammed and the guns could not be worked. 
 
 All about the ram were her unrelenting enemies, 
 seeking to strike another blow. The Hartford, 
 swinging wide to come at her again, was rammed 
 by the Lackazcaniia, which tore a hole in her sides 
 within two feet of the water line, and nearly killed 
 Farragut, who was standing near. The Union ves- 
 sels were so thick they could not get at their solitary 
 victim. 
 
 Slowly the dogged Chickasaw began to wear 
 down the will of the ram. Battered on all sides, 
 wounded, unable to strike back, her smoke-stack 
 gone, her fires falling, and the smoke pouring into 
 the room where the brave defenders were struggling 
 to make use of their guns, her plight was pitiable. 
 Admiral Buchanan, directing the fight in person, 
 called for a machinist to work on a pin of one of the 
 port shutters. As the man was working to free it, a 
 shot struck the shutter and the man was utterly 
 crushed. And a bolt, flying off under the impact, 
 broke Buchanan's leg. 
 
 For twenty long minutes more the brave men 
 clung to hope. At the end of that time, unable to 
 strike a single blow in their defense, with the stern 
 wall of their floating fortress gradually crumbling 
 under the teeth of the Chickasaza, they surrendered, 
 and the fight was done. Mobile Bay was in the 
 hands of the Union fleet. 
 
 But what would have been the end of the fight if 
 
200 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Farragiit had not been a braver man than one who 
 merely climbed into the ratlines of his ship to direct 
 her fight? What if he had not had a courage that 
 was above torpedoes, and above a monster fighting 
 ship that could have picked off his own, one by one, 
 at her leisure ? Who can say ? 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 "ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 
 
 William Barker Gushing, lieutenant in the 
 United States Navy, was only a boy. Perhaps he 
 would not have liked being called a boy, for he was 
 twenty-one years of age at the time of which I write, 
 but no one who had not the heart of a boy, with a 
 boy's love for adventure and recklessness of death, 
 would have done half the things he did. 
 
 Even if Gushing had never done the big thing of 
 which I am going to tell he would have been well 
 worth writing about. He was a thin slip of a lad, 
 six feet tall, quick on his feet, athletic, wiry, with 
 brown eyes full of laughter, and a merry voice. He 
 did not know what fear was. That is a thing that 
 is often said of men and boys, but it was strictly true 
 of him. Danger meant nothing to him but fun. He 
 thought no more of risking his life than you think 
 of risking your little finger when you scoop up a hot 
 grounder at short-stop. He was perfectly modest 
 with it all. Not knowing that there was such an 
 emotion as fear, it never occurred to him that he 
 was braver than other men, or boys. He took it as 
 a matter of course, just as he took his long legs and 
 
202 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 brown eyes as a matter of course, and not things to 
 be especially proud of. 
 
 The first thing Gushing did was when he was 
 eighteen. He had been a cadet at Annapolis. He 
 had resigned from the naval academy for some 
 reason early in 1861, but volunteered in the navy 
 early in the Civil War, and was made acting master's 
 mate, and assigned to the North Atlantic blockading 
 squadron. In that command he captured a Confed- 
 erate tobacco schooner valued at $30,000, the first 
 capture by the United States Navy in the war. This 
 happened on the first day of his active service with 
 the North Atlantic blockading squadron. 
 
 By July, 1862, when he was not yet twenty. Gush- 
 ing was made a lieutenant, for " acts of successful 
 daring" on the blockade, and immediately proceeded 
 to other acts of daring. He was with Rowan when 
 that officer captured Elizabeth City, in North Caro- 
 lina. One of the fruits of the capture was a small 
 steamer, the Ellis. Cushing was put in command 
 of the Ellis, and stationed off New River, lower down 
 on the coast. 
 
 Thirty-five miles up New River was the town of 
 Jacksonville. It lay on the mail route from Wil- 
 mington, North Carolina, one of the important sea- 
 ports of the Confederacy, to Richmond, the Confed- 
 erate capital. Somewhere near Jacksonville, accord- 
 ing to report, was a salt works. The Confederate 
 states were in distress for salt ; nothing could hurt 
 them much more than to cut off their supply of it. 
 
" ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN " 203 
 
 They needed it so badly that the Confederate sol- 
 diers were often obliged to sprinlde gunpowder on 
 their food in place of it. 
 
 Cushing decided that it would be a good move to 
 destroy the salt works, and incidentally to capture 
 Jacksonville and see whether there was any mail of 
 importance in the post-office there. The thirty-five 
 miles of river between him and the town ran through 
 a country of which nothing more was known than 
 that it was a red-hot secession country, and that the 
 banks of the river were heavily wooded, offering a 
 splendid chance for masked batteries and all sorts of 
 hidden dangers. 
 
 But Cushing, of course, thought nothing of that. 
 He set out up the river in the Ellis, with nothing 
 on his mind but the capture of the town and the 
 destruction of the salt works. As the expedition ap- 
 proached Jacksonville the men on the Ellis saw a 
 dense column of smoke arising from the river be- 
 yond a bend, and believed that the Confederates had 
 fired the town and left. They hurried forward. As 
 they passed the bend they ran across a cotton 
 schooner afire. It had been all ready to put to sea 
 and take its chances in running the blockade, but 
 Cushing's advance up the river had prevented it, so 
 the owners of the cotton had set fire to it, rather than 
 see it fall into the hands of the Union men. 
 
 Some men would not have taken the chance of run- 
 ning by the burning schooner for fear their own ves- 
 sel might catch fire, but Cushing, being only a boy, 
 
204 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 was not that kind of a man. He pushed on to Jack- 
 sonville, captured it, seized two schooners, took the 
 mail out of the post-office, and then set out to find 
 the salt works. The reason why he did not destroy 
 the salt works was a good one ; there were no salt 
 works to be found. 
 
 There being nothing more that he could do. Gush- 
 ing set ofi down the river again, keeping a sharp 
 lookout for Confederates, with one of the schooners 
 in tow. The other he had burned. He had not 
 gone very far before he saw an encampment on the 
 bank. He stopped and fired into it, until the Con- 
 federates all ran away, and then proceeded. A 
 short distance below the enemy opened on him with 
 two guns hidden in a fringe of brush at the top of 
 the high bank. By this time there were plenty of 
 Confederates running up and down the side of the 
 river howling at him. 
 
 Cushing returned the fire with his one cannon, a 
 pivot gun amidships, and soon put a stop to the bat- 
 tery. But by that time it was so late that the pilots 
 would not try to get the steamer down the river 
 among the shoals and bars. There was nothing for 
 it but to drop anchor and lay there all night, with no 
 one knew how many Confederates prowling around 
 the banks waiting to attack them. The woods were 
 full of lantern lights. 
 
 There didn't seem to be much chance for the Ellis 
 if the enemy took it into their heads to come out, 
 but Cushing got ready to give them a warm recep- 
 
" ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN " 205 
 
 tion. Boarding nets were spread, cudasses and re- 
 volvers were brought out, and the crew stood on 
 guard all night. It was an anxious time until morn- 
 ing. But morning came at last, and the Confeder- 
 ates had let them alone. 
 
 They started down-stream again, and were begin- 
 ning to feel pretty safe, when a real disaster over- 
 took them. The pilot got in the wrong channel and 
 ran the Ellis fast on a sand-bar. Cushing, seeing a 
 chance of getting her off, had everything movable 
 transferred to the schooner that he had been towing. 
 But still she stuck. 
 
 Determined not to lose his ship, the lad sent some 
 sailors back to get the guns the Confederates had 
 used on him from the bluff the afternoon before. 
 He intended to make: a land battery of them and 
 stay by until the Ellis could be brought off. But 
 the Confederates had come in the night and removed 
 the guns. 
 
 Still Cushing would not abandon his ship. He 
 put his crew in the schooner, all but six volunteers, 
 and ordered it to drop down the river for a mile or 
 two. Presently, as he had expected, the enemy be- 
 gan to open on him with half a dozen guns scattered 
 up and down the bank. Cushing fought back until 
 the Confederates found the range and began to drop 
 their shells on deck, setting fire to the Ellis. When 
 he saw that he could not hold out, and had made 
 sure that the fires set by the enemy's guns would 
 destroy the Ellis, he loaded her swivel gun with a 
 
2o6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 last charge, and took to the small boat. The seven 
 men rowed through the fire of the Confederate guns 
 to the schooner, and made their way back to the 
 blockading squadron, Cushing felt very badly 
 about it, and asked for a court of enquiry, but his 
 superiors only smiled, and would have patted him 
 on the back if they had dared. 
 
 The next big thing he did was foolhardy and 
 reckless. He was cruising off Cape Fear River in 
 the Moniicello, of which he was commander. At 
 the mouth of the river was the Confederate fort Cas- 
 well. Above the fort was a little village called 
 Smithville, occupied at the time as a post by a Con- 
 federate force under General Hebert. 
 
 Cushing took twenty men in two boats, rowed up 
 past the fort on a dark night, hauled up under a 
 high bank in front of Smithville, and with Master's 
 Mate William L. Howarth, another officer, and a 
 seaman, walked up to the general's headquarters 
 in such a cool and deliberate manner that the thou- 
 sand Confederate soldiers in the town paid not the 
 least attention, thinking that they had business there. 
 
 And they had business there. Their business was 
 to capture one Mr. Hebert, adjutant-general of the 
 Confederate army. The first man they walked into 
 was an engineer officer, who started to yell, but was 
 promptly muzzled. He succeeded in making enough 
 noise before he was muzzled, however, to alarm 
 General Hebert, who took to his heels, half dressed, 
 thinking his troops had mutinied. Finding the gen- 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 207 
 
 eral gone, Gushing and his companions, with their 
 prisoner, strolled back to their boats, got in, and 
 rowed down the river. It was not until the adjutant- 
 general came back out of the woods whither he had 
 fled that the Confederates knew that an enemy had 
 been among them. 
 
 Four months later Cushing made a more danger- 
 ous excursion into the same country. This time he 
 had a better excuse. The Confederates had a ram, 
 the Raleigh, that had been making things uncomfort- 
 able for the blockading squadron. The ram was be- 
 lieved to be in the Cape Fear River, lurking to come 
 out. She had been out once, and done some dam- 
 age. It was agreed among the officers of the block- 
 ading fleet that it would be a good thing for them 
 if the ram were destroyed. 
 
 That was just the kind of task that was to young 
 Cushing's liking. He obtained permission to go 
 and blow her up with a torpedo. He started on the 
 business on the night of June 23, 1864, taking with 
 him Jones and Howarth, the two who had been with 
 him before, and fifteen men in a boat. The night 
 was cloudy and dark. The boat got past the fort, 
 and Smithville, without trouble, but as it was slip- 
 ping up the river the moon came out. The strip of 
 river between the wooded banks became suddenly 
 as light as da)^ and the Confederate sentries who 
 paced up and down the banks saw the boat full of 
 men. 
 
 Cushing turned about quickly, and made down- 
 
2o8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 stream as fast as he could go. Of course the enemy, 
 not knowing that it was Gushing, believed the boat 
 was fleeing. Gushing kept on until he got under the 
 shadow of the bank, when he turned about once 
 more and went up the river in the shadow, past the 
 relieved sentries. He could hear them shouting at 
 each other across the river, discussing the sudden 
 disappearance of the boat, and he had work enough 
 to keep from laughing out loud. He was much of a 
 boy, as you see. 
 
 Dawn found them seven miles from Wilmington. 
 "Wilmington was a Confederate stronghold, and the 
 country was filled with Confederates. If the men in 
 the boat should be found, they would probably be 
 hanged as spies. They turned the boat into a 
 swamp, and lay there all day, without saying a word 
 above a whisper. It was not very pleasant or com- 
 fortable, but it was much more pleasant and comfort- 
 able than being hanged as spies. 
 
 Just as they were about to start out, a fishing 
 party came down from Wilmington in two boats. 
 That made it awkward. If the fishing party 
 should spread the alarm the jackies would be lost. 
 There was nothing for it but to catch the party that 
 had come out to catch fish. So the thing was done. 
 
 That night Cushing spent in prowling about the 
 river, finding out what he could about the defenses 
 of the town. He was not one to leave anything un- 
 done while he was about it. In the morning, being 
 a boy all through, he conceived the notion of rowing 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 209 
 
 up a little creek to where the road from Wilmington 
 to Fort Fisher crossed, to see what he could find. It 
 was too good a joke to let get by. 
 
 Hiding his boat behind a bend in the creek, he 
 hid himself under the bridge where the road crossed, 
 and waited. Presently he heard a horse galloping 
 down from Wilmington. He came out of his hid- 
 ing, and held up the horseman. The fellow was 
 carrying dispatches to the fort. Gushing turned him 
 over to his men, and waited for the next to come 
 along. 
 
 The next came along, but he was too quick for 
 the lad. He turned around and started back to the 
 town, as fast as his horse could run. Gushing 
 leaped on the horse of the man he had taken and 
 put after him, but the other's animal was too fleet 
 and he got away. 
 
 Anybody but a boy would have thought it about 
 time to clear out. The one who had escaped might 
 give an alarm in Wilmington, and they might ex- 
 pect an entire army along the road pretty soon. 
 But Gushing, being only a boy, and learning from 
 one of their prisoners that there was a store two 
 miles away, found out that he was hungry. Nothing 
 would do but he must have something to eat from 
 that store. Grackers and cheese, perhaps, or a bag 
 of ginger snaps. 
 
 Howarth was hungry also. Howarth was so 
 hungry that he would risk his life for the things in 
 that store. There was a man among the prisoners, 
 
2IO BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 a "cracker," who was about the same size as 
 Howarth. Howarth put on his rough jean clothes, 
 and started out for the store, on the horse Gushing 
 had captured. They had lots of fun over it ; Gush- 
 ing laughed till he had to hold his sides to see 
 Howarth riding off in the rig of the " cracker." 
 
 Howarth jaunted along, gossiping with every one 
 he met, cracked jokes with the storekeeper, and 
 came back in good time loaded with good things to 
 eat. The crew ate a merry supper, hidden in the 
 bushes, and amused themselves cutting telegraph 
 wires until it was dark enough to start out again. 
 
 This was the third night they had been in the river, 
 and they had not done the thing that they came to 
 do. But Gushing would not go back without doing 
 it. Getting into the boat with his prisoners, he rowed 
 out into the river again, and went to look for the 
 Confederate ram. Presently he found her, and 
 found that he need not have come. She was a 
 total wreck, having been destroyed by the Confeder- 
 ates themselves. It seems that she had been strained 
 so badly on a passage over the bar at the mouth of 
 the river that it was impossible to repair her, and 
 her own people had sunk her rather than risk her 
 being taken by the enemy. 
 
 Serious things were in store for the party. Set- 
 ting the prisoners adrift in their boats without sails 
 or oars, so that they could not get anywhere soon 
 enough to raise an alarm. Gushing started down the 
 stream to return to the fleet outside. The night was 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 211 
 
 cloudy and dark, excepting for occasional flashes of 
 the moon through breaks in the clouds. 
 
 One of these flashes came just as they had reached 
 the mouth of the river, showing up the water like a 
 sheet of silver. Black on the sheet was a Confeder- 
 ate guard-ship, only a few boat-lengths away. 
 
 " Boat ahoy ! What boat is that ? " came a hail 
 from the guard-ship. 
 
 Cushing leaned forward. " At 'em, boys I " he 
 said, in a low voice, and his men pulled strong for 
 the enemy. Boy that he was, he was going to take 
 this boat, just to make a day of it. 
 
 But as they were coming up swiftly, three more 
 boats crept out of the shadows of the clouds into the 
 patch of light. That was three too many, even for a 
 boy, and Cushing headed about quickly. As he 
 headed, four boats came from the shadows on the 
 other side of the floating patch. Things were get- 
 ting interesting. 
 
 Cushing steered for the space between the boats ; 
 there was room, and there was time. But in an in- 
 stant a large schooner emerged from the darkness, 
 filled with soldiers, and cut him off. 
 
 The situation was desperate. They were sur- 
 rounded by overpowering numbers. The men looked 
 at Cushing, to see what he was going to do about it. 
 
 Some boys would have got rattled in those cir- 
 cumstances. Not so Cushing. Heading swiftly to 
 the west, he gave the word, and the men pulled, as 
 though they had not already been pulling through 
 
212 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 the hours of the night. The boat shot in the direc- 
 tion of the distant western inlet. 
 
 The men with him wondered what he was doing 
 that for ; the enemy could easily head him off there. 
 
 Perhaps the Confederates wondered too, thinking 
 the man a fool. At any rate, they all started at once 
 to intercept him, going as fast as they could across 
 his course. 
 
 The clouds were stirring in the sky ; blotches of 
 shadow traced themselves over the water. Presently 
 one of the shadows swallowed Cushing's boat for an 
 instant. In that instant he headed about. The Con- 
 federates could not see him. 
 
 When the cloud was gone, and they looked for 
 their prey, they beheld him making swift tracks be- 
 hind them for the crossing of the bar. Before they 
 could take up the chase again, Cushing and his men 
 were in the breakers, and giving three cheers, boy- 
 like, for the disappointed and chagrined Johnnies. 
 
 So much for Cushing for the present. Now for the 
 circumstances and events that led up to the biggest 
 thing the boy did ; the biggest thing, perhaps, that 
 any boy ever did — or man, either, for that matter. 
 
 You must know that early in the war, the United 
 States fleet established and maintained a blockade of 
 the Confederate ports, preventing ships from passing 
 in or out. Of course a good many got past the 
 blockade, and it was very exciting work, but the free 
 flow of commerce was interfered with. This was a 
 serious thing for the Confederate states ; one of the 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 213 
 
 most serious they had to contend with. They had 
 to get their cotton out to obtain money for carrying 
 on the war, and they had to get all sorts of goods in 
 for their own use. They manufactured very little in 
 the South; the growing of cotton was almost their 
 only industry. So when the Northern vessels pre- 
 vented them from shipping out their cotton in ex- 
 change for the things they had to have they were in 
 a serious situation. 
 
 If the Confederates had had a navy they could 
 have opened the blockade in spots. But they hadn't 
 any to speak of ; nothing that could compete success- 
 fully and for any time with the Northern navy. So 
 they set about building ironclads and rams with 
 which they hoped to be able to sink the wooden ships 
 of the enemy. 
 
 One of the ironclads was the Merrimac. You 
 know her story. Another was the Raleigh, which 
 Cushing had already been to destroy. Another was 
 the Albemarle ; and now we come to our story. 
 
 The Albemarle was built in a corn field above 
 Plymouth, on the Roanoke River, which empties into 
 Albemarle Sound, in North Carolina. The Union 
 boats were in possession of the Sound, and were in 
 possession of Plymouth at the time the ram was 
 building. The Union officers in the fleet knew all 
 about her, and asked Major-General Foster, in com- 
 mand of the Union army in North Carolina, to go 
 and burn her. But Foster laughed at their fears, 
 telling them the vessel would never be put to use. 
 
214 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The Albemarle was a savage fighting-machine for 
 those times. She was low and wide and flat-bottomed, 
 so she could cross the bars where the Union vessels 
 could not. She had a wicked snout which was de- 
 signed to be rammed into the sides of an enemy, and 
 she carried two hundred pound guns. But worst of 
 all, she was covered with four inches of iron. The 
 guns of those days would not shoot through four 
 inches of iron, and everybody knew it. Perhaps 
 General Foster, even, knew that. 
 
 I wish you could know how hard the Confederates 
 worked to build that ram. As I said, she was built 
 in a corn field. Of course, her keel was laid close to 
 the water, but there was nothing like a ship-yard 
 where she was started. And all they had to work with 
 was a blacksmith's forge and what iron they could 
 scrape up in the countryside. They called Captain 
 Cooke, who helped to build her, the " Ironmonger 
 Captain," because he used to send men around in 
 wagons picking up old bolts, bars, horseshoes, axles, 
 nails — anything they could find. I don't doubt they 
 used to call out " Old iron ! Old iron ! " as they drove 
 through the neighboring villages and farmyards. 
 
 At last she was ready for the water, fitted with two 
 engines and twin screws, and started out. Even as 
 she started out to fight the men still worked on her. 
 There were ten portable forges aboard her; and" the 
 men were driving the last rivets as she got up steam 
 and worked her way down the narrow river toward 
 Plymouth. 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 215 
 
 The plan was to attack Plymouth. General Hoke, 
 with a Confederate force, moved by land, and the 
 Albemaide by water. The Union boats Miami and 
 Soiithfield were at Plymouth, under command of 
 Lieutenant Flusser, in the Miami. Lieutenant Flus- 
 ser knew that he had no chance against the monster 
 with a huge beak whose sides his guns could not 
 penetrate, but he stood his ground. 
 
 The Albemarle came down, rammed the South- 
 field and sunk it, and would have done the same by 
 the Miami if that vessel had not got out of the way. 
 The brave lieutenant was killed. He fired a shot 
 against the iron hide of the monster at close range. 
 The shot flew into bits, and the pieces came back 
 and killed him. 
 
 The Albemarle was unhurt, but she nearly foun- 
 dered. She drove her beak so far into the Soiithfield 
 that when that vessel sunk the wreck clung to the 
 nose of the Confederate boat and all but pulled her 
 down too. 
 
 Captain Melanchthon Smith, who was in command 
 of the Union squadron, immediately set about gath- 
 ering a fleet to meet the ram, and there was a pretty 
 fight between them all early in May, 1864. The 
 first fight had been on the 29th of April of that year. 
 In the second fight the gunboat Sassaais went head 
 on into the Albemarle, with oil and waste burning in 
 her furnaces to give her head of steam, with the hope 
 that the ram might be rammed. 
 
 The Sassacus got much the worst of it. She did 
 
2i6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 no damage, and was badly crippled herself. Two of 
 the hundred pound shots from the Confederate boat 
 tore through her vitals, ripping up her engines, tear- 
 ing loose her steam pipes, and filling her with scald- 
 ing steam. She would have blown up if it had not 
 been for James W. Hobby, first assistant engineer 
 on board. 
 
 Never forget what he did that day. He went 
 down into that scalding steam to the fire room, 
 where the fire was puffing under the boilers, fed by 
 waste and oil, and dragged the coals out with a fire- 
 rake. He stayed there until he had finished the task. 
 Then they brought him out, blinded and helpless. 
 
 The fight kept up all day. The iron pellets from 
 the Union ships showered against the sides of the 
 Albetnarle, and rolled off into the water, doing no 
 damage. At dark she drew off up the Sound to 
 Plymouth, but the Union officers were in despair. 
 They knew that she could come down and annihilate 
 them at her own pleasure, and they could do noth- 
 ing to prevent it. 
 
 Then it was that William Barker Cushing did what 
 he did. A man up in New York had just finished 
 making two steam picket boats of a new type, de- 
 vised by an engineer in the navy named John L. 
 Lay, and introduced into the navy by Chief Engi- 
 neer William Willis Wiley Wood. These two 
 picket boats had each a spar hinged on the bow. 
 The spar was about twenty-eight feet long, and was 
 so arranged that it could be lifted, or lowered be- 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 217 
 
 neath the water. The idea was to fasten a torpedo 
 to the end of the spar, poke it against the side of any 
 vessel you wanted to blow up, pull a string, and there 
 you were. The boats were decked over forward, and 
 carried each a twelve-pound howitzer. The engines 
 were very carefully made so that they would run 
 quietly, and were so arranged in the picket boats that 
 they could be covered with tarpaulins to shut in their 
 light and sound. 
 
 At best, they were not very safe things for the men 
 who should endeavor to use them against an enemy's 
 ship, and they required delicate skill in the handling. 
 It was necessary to take the launch within twenty- 
 five or thirty feet of an enemy, and to jab the tor- 
 pedo against the side of the intended victim at pre- 
 cisely the right moment. The torpedo had to be 
 placed beneath the water line. You can easily see 
 that if the launch was driven too close, the torpedo 
 would overreach, and if the launch was not brought 
 close enough, it would not reach at all. And while 
 the launch was being brought to the right point, it 
 was not reasonable to hope that the enemy would be 
 entirely ignorant or idle. 
 
 The man who had to operate the torpedo spar ran 
 an especial risk. He was obliged to stand in the 
 bows, wholly unprotected from sight or shot, and 
 pull the string firing the torpedo at the proper in- 
 stant of time. And then the troubles of the picket 
 boat were likely to be just beginning. Of course 
 the explosion of a torpedo that would be large 
 
2i8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 enough to sink a ram or an ironclad, within thirty 
 feet of the little launch, would certainly do more 
 or less to the launch. If the explosion did not 
 swamp it, the waves from the sinking victim would 
 be more than likely to do so. It was a dangerous 
 business. I have never been able to learn whether 
 the men who built the picket boats in New York 
 were anxious to operate them in Albemarle Sound. 
 
 But Gushing was anxious to do so. It was just 
 the sort of work that appealed to his boyish imagi- 
 nation. It was the kind of game he liked to play. 
 He sought and obtained command of the proposed 
 expedition to blow up the ram Albemarle, then lying 
 at Plymouth. Mind you, he was not twenty-two, 
 and he was chosen for the task because his superi- 
 ors knew that in all the fleet there was not another 
 man, or boy, so well fitted to carry out the plans. 
 
 There had already been one attempt to blow up 
 the Confederate ram. Coal-heaver Baldwin, with 
 four men from the Wyalusing, had gone in a boat 
 up the Roanoke River, under cover of the night, 
 carrying with them four torpedoes. The plan was 
 to float the torpedoes down against the Albemarle, 
 where they were to be fired by Coal-heaver Baldwin, 
 who was to swim down with them. But on the way 
 down the torpedoes fouled a schooner, Baldwin _was 
 discovered, and the five men had difficulty in escap- 
 ing with their lives from the swamp where they had 
 hidden. 
 
 Cushing's plan was to take the two picket boats, 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 219 
 
 slip up the river at night, and attack the ram where 
 she lay at the Plymouth wharf. The Confederates 
 had taken every possible precaution against such an 
 attack. The river was watched constantly by a 
 double line of sentries along its banks. There was 
 a squad of guards on a schooner near the wreck of 
 the Soiithjield, a mile below the place where the 
 Albemarle was tied up. There were a thousand 
 Confederate soldiers camped on and near the wharf. 
 Great fires were kept burning every night to light 
 up the river and prevent a surprise. The crew of 
 the ram was eternally vigilant. The hundred pound 
 guns were kept loaded and trained on the bend of 
 the river below, which any attacking party would 
 have to round. As a last precaution, a boom of 
 heavy cypress logs was stretched in front of the ram, 
 at a distance from her of thirty feet, to fend off float- 
 ing torpedoes. 
 
 Cushing did not know about the boom of logs. 
 In fact, he did not know clearly about any of the 
 precautions, except that there was a guard at the 
 wreck of the Southfield. Of course, he guessed 
 that there were plenty of Confederates around to 
 take care of their one naval hope. But he did not 
 care for them ; they made the adventure just that 
 much more interesting. He had already done so 
 many daredevil things that any ordinary risk was 
 simply dull work. 
 
 On the way down from New York one of the 
 picket boats was swamped in a storm on Chesapeake 
 
220 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Bay. Gushing brought the other through safely, 
 and reported on her to Commander Macomb, of the 
 Shamrock, who was the senior officer in those waters. 
 Final preparations were made, and on the night of 
 October 26, 1864, the lad started. 
 
 He had with him a picked crew of thirteen officers 
 and men ; among them his old chums, Tom Gay and 
 Billy Howarth. They were towed by the Otsego to 
 a point on the Sound near the mouth of the Roanoke. 
 Presently they started under their own steam ; but 
 they had not gone far when the launch ran aground. 
 It was so late before Gushing could get her off that 
 when he finally succeeded in doing so he was 
 obliged to put back to the Otsego and wait for an- 
 other favorable night. 
 
 It was now the night of October 29th. Gushing, 
 who had been burning up with impatience for three 
 days, had spent the evening running from the ward- 
 room to the deck to see how the weather was com- 
 ing on. The evening had set in with promise of 
 clouds, and a possibility of rain. Once or twice the 
 sky had broken clear, but about ten o'clock it began 
 to thicken up more and more. At midnight Gush- 
 ing bounced down into the ward-room with a whoop. 
 "Come on, boys ! " he said, " we can make it now. 
 It's as black as a' nigger's pocket." 
 
 The crew clambered into the launch. A cutter 
 was filled with armed men and made fast at the 
 stern of the launch. Gushing knew about the 
 guard schooner at the wreck of the Southjield. He 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 221 
 
 thought he might need these men to take care of 
 that vessel. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Gushing, shaking hands all 
 round with the officers of the Otsego. " It's another 
 stripe or a cofBn this time," he laughed. And, 
 although he laughed when he said it, they knew 
 that he meant it. 
 
 Lieutenant Gushing was the last aboard the picket 
 boat. He went forward to have a look at the tor- 
 pedo spar, examined the howitzer, lifted a tarpaulin 
 to peep at the engine, glanced astern to see that the 
 cutter full of armed men was fast to the stern-post, 
 cast an eye over the men in his own boat, and gave 
 the word. " Go ahead," he said to Stever and 
 Stotesbury, the engineers. They gave her the 
 throttle ; the engines puffed softly once or twice, the 
 wheel began to churn under the stern, and the 
 picket boat moved out into the dark waters of the 
 Sound. The officers lining the rail of the Otsego 
 watched them out of sight, and turned away without 
 a word. 
 
 "Well, Billy, how do you feel?" chuckled Lieu- 
 tenant Gushing, putting a long lean arm around 
 Howarth's shoulders as he took a seat beside him in 
 the stern. 
 
 " Fine. Great," returned Howarth. 
 
 A scurry of rain lashed across their faces. " Great 
 night for it, Billy," commented Gushing, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Best kind of a night," assented Billy Howarth. 
 
222 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The engine was purring contentedly under the 
 tarpaulins. There was not a light on the boat, and 
 not a sound but the mutter of the engine, an occa- 
 sional whisper between the men, and the lisping rip- 
 ple of the waves against her bows as she pushed her 
 nose up-stream. 
 
 Lieutenant Gushing was humming a tune so 
 softly that no one heard him but Howarth, sitting 
 close beside him. " Good thing there's no moon to- 
 night," he whispered, presently, breaking off his 
 tune. " Remember how the moon came near play- 
 ing the mischief with us that night we went after the 
 Raleigh, down on New River ? " 
 
 " The moon is made for love, and not for war," 
 observed Howarth. 
 
 The silence was broken again by a low chuckle 
 from Gushing, *' I'd like to have been around when 
 that storekeeper down by Wilmington found out 
 that he'd had a Yankee sailor for a customer that 
 day you rigged up in the cracker's clothes," he 
 whispered. 
 
 Howarth joined his quiet laugh. " God must 
 have some plans for us," he said. " He's brought 
 us through some pretty tight places." 
 
 " Yes, but we're rather stretching things to-night, 
 old man. We mustn't depend upon Him too much 
 to see us through this." 
 
 As they pushed through the water they could 
 hear the occasional tread of a Gonfederate sentry on 
 the banks of the stream. Here and there ahead of 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 223 
 
 them the ruddy glow of watch-fires blurred into the 
 night. The wind was rising, sending the rain whip- 
 ping along the water and stirring the river into a 
 myriad indistinct noises that blurred the sounds the 
 little picket boat made. Gushing leaned forward, 
 lifted the tail of a tarpaulin that covered the engine, 
 very carefully, and whispered to Stotesbury, the en- 
 gineer. " Cut her down a little, Stotesbury," he 
 said. " We've got to be mighty quiet in through 
 here. The banks are coming pretty close." 
 
 The purring of the engine subsided into a dull 
 rumble. The slash of the wheel through the water 
 became no more than a faint plashing, which might 
 have been made by the little whitecaps that were 
 blossoming out on the waves. The waves plumped 
 against the prow of the boat and bubbled away 
 on either side. The men could not be heard to 
 breathe. 
 
 " Say ! " exclaimed Cushing, under his breath, 
 leaning a hand on Howarth's shoulder. *' We won't 
 blow up the Albemarle I " 
 
 Howarth turned toward him quickly, trying to 
 make out his face through the darkness. That was 
 not at all like Lieutenant Cushing. " What do you 
 mean ? " he said, sharply. 
 
 " We'll capture her 1 " answered Cushing. 
 
 " Oh," said Howarth, relieved. 
 
 Cushing chuckled again. " Gee whiz, Billy 1 
 What would the boys of the fleet say if they saw us 
 coming down the river in her, with the stars and 
 
224 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 stripes at the gaff ? I'll bet you they'd cut and run 
 for it. What do you think ? " 
 
 Billy grinned until his white teeth shone through 
 the night. " They wouldn't believe it, Gushing." 
 
 " It just struck me as a good idea," Gushing went 
 on, becoming more serious. " It seems a shame to 
 blow her up. She's too good for that. We could 
 use her very well. I think we'll run off with her." 
 
 " How will you do it ? " asked Howarth. He did 
 not speak from doubt, but from a desire to learn his 
 lieutenant's plans. 
 
 " We'll land a little below her and board her from the 
 wharf. We'll do it so quickly that they won't know 
 what has happened until we are headed down-stream 
 with her. Billy, you can do anything if you do it 
 quickly. The more absurd the adventure is, the 
 easier it is to do it. It's the last thing they will be 
 expecting." 
 
 " The Johnnies are pretty strong around her," sug- 
 gested Howarth, not by way of discouragement, but 
 to remind Gushing of all the things that should be 
 considered beforehand. 
 
 "The more the better," answered Gushing. 
 " That makes it easier. If there were only forty 
 of them, they would be ready for anything, but if 
 there are a thousand, as there probably are, they 
 will feel secure in their numbers. Remember the 
 time we ran off with the engineer at Smithville ? We 
 would have got General Hebert just as easy if he 
 hadn't given us his heels. That shows you what 
 
" ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN " 225 
 
 you can do if you do the unexpected." Gushing 
 could not help chuckling at the reminiscence. 
 
 " If you want to try it you can count on all the 
 boys," was the only comment Howarth made further. 
 
 " Hist 1 " warned Gushing. " Hush." 
 
 The guard schooner, anchored near the wreck of 
 the Southfield, suddenly loomed up through the 
 darkness. Gushing shoved the helm hard over, and 
 swung the boat closer inshore ; so close to the shore 
 that the men in her could hear a couple of Gonfeder- 
 ate soldiers swearing at the wind and rain. 
 
 " They'll have more than that to scold about, be- 
 fore we come back," said Gushing, leaning over to 
 whisper into the ear of Howarth. Howarth nodded 
 his head by way of reply. 
 
 It was a critical moment. Much depended on 
 their getting by the schooner. It was only a mile to 
 the wharf where the Albemarle was tied. If any of 
 the men on the schooner should hear them, or see 
 them, and fire a shot, it would bring the entire Gon- 
 federate force in Golumbus down about the ears of 
 the fifteen men in the torpedo launch. 
 
 Gushing lifted his head high to listen ; his breath 
 was as even as that of a babe, and his pulse beat as 
 steadily as a sleeping man's. 
 
 There was a faint clank of an arm in the cutter, 
 towing behind. The armed men there were restless 
 with anxiety, expecting their work to come at any 
 instant. It was understood that at the least sign of 
 discovery from the schooner the cutter would be 
 
226 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 cast off, and the men in her must smother any at- 
 tempt of the guard to set off signal roclcets. 
 
 Gushing, hearing the sound behind him, swore 
 softly under his breath, and listened more intently. 
 From the direction of the schooner, now abreast, 
 could be heard the heels of a sentinel pacing her 
 decks, and the gurgling plash of waves against her 
 sides. Slowly the picket boat drew ahead. The 
 danger was past. 
 
 The engine, turning evenly, without a sigh or 
 sound, drove them farther and farther toward the 
 supreme moment. The river was narrowing down ; 
 it was not one hundred and fifty yards wide now. 
 Gushing kept the middle of the stream. ** Darn 
 their old fires, anyway," he whispered, presently. 
 The dull glow of the watch-fires, kept continually 
 on both banks of the river near the ram, shone in 
 the sky, and a ruddy gleam from them stole now 
 and then across the running water. 
 
 It was a lucky thing that on that night, of all 
 nights, the fires had been allowed to burn very low. 
 They were scarcely more than heaps of embers. 
 Gushing observed that as they rounded the last 
 bend between them and the Albemarle, and came 
 into view of the fires. " I take it all back," he said, 
 gaily, in a whisper. " They have behaved very 
 well with their fires to-night." 
 
 Gushing picked out paths on the face of the 
 stream that were least illuminated by the fires and 
 crept inshore. " We're going to take her, boys," he 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 227 
 
 passed the word. " We're going to take her back 
 with us." 
 
 The boys were all glad of that. They did not 
 say so, but there was a feeling in the wet air that 
 they were glad. 
 
 Gushing whispered to Stotesbury again, and the 
 engineer closed down the engine another notch ; it 
 made no more sound now than a sleeping kitten. 
 
 Out of the darkness loomed the Albemarle, lying 
 against her wharf. There was not a sound aboard 
 her ; not a light. Dim, weird in the gloom, she 
 looked like some huge monster slumbering ; hunch- 
 shouldered, black, ugly, and deadly. 
 
 Gushing headed for the shore, a few yards below 
 the monster. " By cracky, Billy, we're going to get 
 away with it 1 " he whispered, gleefully. 
 
 Suddenly the silence of the night was shattered 
 by the loud barking of a dog not far from the shore. 
 The beast howled and yelped ; each yelp cut through 
 the night like a whip. Gushing, standing now in 
 the stern of the boat, clenched his two fists and 
 shook with anger. He waited, praying that each 
 howl would be the last ; shrinking from them, as 
 they kept on, as though they were blows in his face. 
 A tingle of excitement could be felt running through 
 the men in the boat. Gushing swore. 
 
 Another sound entered the stillness of the night. 
 There was the hurried tread of a sentry on board the 
 Albe^narle, the thump of a musket butt against the 
 rail. " Boat ahoy ! What boat is that ? " came a hail. 
 
228 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 No answer. A moment of supreme suspense ; not 
 a breath was drawn on the two boats. Another 
 challenge. A shot ; the pink flash of it leaped and 
 died. 
 
 In the instant the midnight hush burst into a mad 
 medley of noises. A dozen dogs took up the cry of 
 their fellow ; muskets popped up and down the river 
 banks ; bells jangled, and the alarm rattle raised its 
 horrid noise above the sudden din. The watch-fires 
 were already beginning to spring up, heaped with 
 fresh fuel. 
 
 No chance now for the surprise. 
 
 " Ahead, fast ! " shouted Gushing to Stotesbury 
 and Stever. At the same instant he cut the tow- 
 line, setting the cutter adrift. 
 
 The good engine hummed ; the boat churned 
 through the water, headed directly for the Albemarle. 
 
 As they came closer, Gushing saw, by the glare 
 of the watch-fires, the long black thread of the log 
 boom circling his prey. He was almost upon them. 
 
 You will find that men who do great things think 
 quickly. Perhaps they do not have to think at all ; 
 perhaps they know what to do without thinking. 
 Gushing figured out in one mental flash that the 
 logs must have been in the water for some time, and 
 that they were surely slimy. He comprehended 
 that if he went into them head on, with enough 
 speed, at least the bow of his boat would slide over 
 them and give him a chance wdth his torpedo boom ; 
 for now there was no hope of capturing the ram. 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 229 
 
 With a thrust of the wheel he swung out into the 
 stream, made a wide circle, and came charging on 
 again, full tilt. 
 
 As he headed for the ram the second time, Gush- 
 ing ran to the bow, and stood by the torpedo spar. 
 There was a rattle of musketry on board the ram. 
 Bullets wheezed about the ears of the men in the 
 boat ; Cushing's coat was filled with buckshot ; a 
 ball knocked off the sole of his shoe. " Let 'em 
 have it, Mr. Gay," he said, and the howitzer spat 
 canister into the wreath of sputtering gun-fire that 
 fringed the decks of the Albemarle. 
 
 Something snapped aboard the ram. Gushing 
 understood ; the great hundred pound rifled cannon 
 had missed fire. ** Thank you just the same," said 
 Gushing, with a comical bow in the direction of the 
 snap. 
 
 " Leave the ram I " he shouted aloud. " Get 
 ashore ! We're going to blow you up ! " There 
 was the same mockery in the shouted warning as 
 you may hear any Saturday afternoon in fall on a 
 football field ; Gushing was at bottom a boy, as I 
 have said several times. 
 
 There was a dull, heavy blow against the bow of 
 the little boat ; she lurched into the air forward. For 
 a moment she hung there, and then slid ahead into 
 the water inside the barrier, the logs sinking beneath 
 her weight. 
 
 It is not an easy thing to do, to swing a long boom 
 on its hinge, thrust the free end of it under water, 
 
230 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 feel around for the bottom of a boat, and get the ex- 
 act spot that you want to reach. It is not easy in 
 any circumstances. It is much less easy in a dark 
 night, when you can scarcely see the vessel in front 
 of you ; when your own boat is bobbing about ; 
 when men are potting at you with muskets, and 
 when you are conscious of a hundred-pound cannon 
 in process of being fired at you not a dozen yards 
 from your head. You must be quick, or you will 
 get so close that you can only slap the other boat 
 with the side of your boom ; and you must be quick, 
 or the hundred-pound gun will blow you and all your 
 friends into jelly. 
 
 Gushing was quick, because he was in no hurry. 
 He lowered the spar on its hinge, thrust it under the 
 overhang of the ram's stern, raised it until he felt 
 the thump of the torpedo against the ship's bottom, 
 and then he pulled the string that fired it off. 
 
 It was as though the river was turning upside 
 down. There was a blubbering roar beneath the 
 water, and a lump of it hove over the decked bow 
 of the little craft. At the same instant there was an 
 unmufBed roar from the sides of the monster as the 
 hundred pounder went off. 
 
 But the gun was too late. In the instant before it 
 shot, the Albemarle rose with a shuddering heave, 
 flopped once or twice like a dying whale, and began 
 to settle in the water. The lifting of the ship by the 
 torpedo destroyed the aim of the great gun, and the 
 hundred pounds of canister whistled off into the river. 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 231 
 
 The Confederates aboard were calling on the men 
 in the boat to surrender. There was no chance to 
 get her out ; she was swamped with water ; her fires 
 were drowned, and she was hemmed in by the boom, 
 
 " Save yourselves, lads 1 " shouted Cushing. 
 
 He took off his sword and pistol, and threw them 
 into the water. He removed his coat and shoes. 
 With a last look at the work he had done, he leaped 
 over side, and struck out down the river. One or 
 two followed him. 
 
 The banks both sides were lined with yelling Con- 
 federates. The watch-fires, burning brilliantly now, 
 threw a light on the whole river. There was no 
 chance to land. He kept on down-stream. Musket- 
 balls whisked into the water about him. He would 
 swim as long as he could, and then take his chances 
 on going ashore. He glanced over his shoulder 
 once more at the wreck of the Albemarle, now settled 
 to the bottom, and chuckled at the sight. 
 
 He had swum half a mile. He was beginning to 
 grow tired. His wrist hurt him. He had been shot 
 there at some time during the recent event. He had 
 not known it at the time. He would not try to get 
 any farther down, for fear he would not have strength 
 enough to make the land. There was no sign of 
 Confederates opposite where he was swimming. He 
 turned inshore. 
 
 He had not gone many labored strokes when he 
 saw some one struggling in the water close to him, 
 " That you, Billy ? " he asked. 
 
232 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " It's me," came a gasping answer. " God help 
 me, I'm done for." 
 
 Gushing recognized the voice as that of Wood- 
 man, his fireman. " Brace up," he said, reaching 
 out a hand and grasping the man by the sleeve just 
 as he was sinking. 
 
 Woodman's head was under. He struggled it 
 free of the water. " I can't. Great God ! I'm done 
 for." 
 
 He said no more. For a space Gushing tried to 
 drag him through the water toward the dark loom 
 of the shore, but he could not. He was too tired ; 
 they would both drown. He loosed his hold, and 
 the man sank. 
 
 The tide, running down the river, swept him with 
 it. He fought with all his remaining strength ; the 
 shore drew no closer, it seemed. " Gome, now. 
 Gushing," he heard himself saying. " You'll never 
 get that stripe unless you get ashore." 
 
 A dozen times he felt himself sinking ; felt himself 
 giving up ; felt himself desiring to go beneath the 
 water, and have an end of it, but he still struck 
 toward the shore. At last, when each sweep of his 
 arms and each feeble kick of his legs cost him pain 
 in body and brain, he felt ground under him, and 
 tumbled out on the bank, where he lay, wet, cold, 
 exhausted. 
 
 Lying there, he became conscious gradually of a 
 regular foot tread going and coming not far off. He 
 stirred his senses to listen, and made out the pacing 
 
" ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN " 233 
 
 of a sentry. He had come ashore on the Plymouth 
 side of the river under the brows of a Confederate 
 fort. 
 
 He knew that if he lay there until morning he 
 would be discovered. Weak as he was, and faint 
 from the pain and loss of blood occasioned by the 
 wound in his wrist, he made up his mind that he 
 would get out of the vicinity of the fort without 
 delay. 
 
 Not far off he saw the edge of a bushy swamp, an 
 excellent place in which to hide. But the way there 
 lay close to the sentry's beat. He waited until the 
 fellow was going away from him, sprang to his feet, 
 and made a dash for the swamp. Before he had 
 covered half the distance the sentry reached the end 
 of his beat, and turned. Cushing dropped into the 
 grass and waited. 
 
 As he lay in the grass waiting, he heard more 
 footsteps coming toward him. He hid his face and 
 white sleeves under his body and lay without breath- 
 ing. Four men passed so close that he could have 
 reached out and touched the one nearest him. 
 They were discussing the wreck of the Albemarle. 
 "She's a goner. It's hopeless," he heard one of 
 them say. They were too excited to observe the 
 man who had furnished them with a subject for 
 conversation. 
 
 When they had passed, Cushing wriggled through 
 the grass, not caring to venture another dash, and 
 at last reached the swamp, where he rested until 
 
234 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 daybreak. As it grew lighter he made his way 
 through the swamp, heading down-stream. It was 
 a long way out of the Confederate country ; he 
 proceeded very cautiously, stopping now and then 
 to listen whether any one was moving near him. 
 The bushes made a thick screen. He avoided all 
 paths, seeking out the most obscure and densest 
 parts of the swamp for his course. 
 
 Presently he came to a corn field. The corn field 
 gave quite as good protection from sight as the 
 swamp, and the walking was better. Moreover, it 
 was more nearly in the route which he knew he 
 must follow to get back to the river opposite the 
 Union vessels. He quarreled with the luck that 
 brought him ashore on this side of the river, instead 
 of the other, as he made up his mind to cross the 
 corn field. 
 
 He crossed, and was just emerging carefully 
 from the other side when he beheld the legs and 
 lower body of a man between the stalks of standing 
 corn, not ten feet from him. It was clear that the 
 man saw him, and was watching him. 
 
 Cushing was without arms, and was fairly ex- 
 hausted, but he decided that he would not be taken 
 without a fight, and made himself ready for an en- 
 counter. The next moment the corn leaves were 
 pushed aside and a black face surmounted by a mat 
 of white wool peered through at him, " Lord a 
 massy, you-all suah done frighten dis poor 
 niggah I " said a voice. " Foh de fan's sake, where 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 235 
 
 you been?" the darky continued, frightened again 
 as he had another look at the hatless, shoeless, 
 draggled specimen of humanity standing staring at 
 him. Gushing was muddy from crown to sole ; his 
 clothing was torn, and there was blood on his shirt. 
 
 He laughed as he saw the old fellow's growing 
 terror. " I'm no ghost. Sambo," he said. " I'm 
 Lieutenant Gushing, United States Navy, and I've 
 just been up in Golumbus attending to a little matter 
 of business with the ram Albemarle^ 
 
 " Fore de Lord, Massah Gushion, Ah suah done 
 t' ought Ah was a gonner dat time," chuckled the old 
 negro, reassured by the sound of a human voice and 
 a laugh coming from the spectre that had risen be- 
 fore him out of the corn field. " You-all's sure been 
 t'rough somefin outdacious, I reckon." His mouth 
 hung open with curiosity. 
 
 Gushing gratified his desire for information until 
 he had taken the edge ofi his appetite, and the old 
 fellow was willing to go over to Golumbus and find 
 out more definitely what had happened to the 
 Albeniarle. " You-all jest lie low here till I come 
 back, Mistah Gushion," he said. " Ah'U find out 
 for suah, 'deed Ah will." 
 
 " And say, Sambo," Gushing called after him, 
 " if you run across anything to eat, you might bring 
 it along with you." 
 
 " 'Deed Ah will, Mistah Gushion, 'deed Ah will," 
 said the darky, wagging his head by way of added 
 emphasis as he shambled off through the corn. 
 
236 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 In due time he came back, his face adorned with 
 a glittering grin. " What news ? " asked Gushing. 
 
 " Mighty good news, massa," chuckled the old 
 fellow. " De big iron ship's gone to de bottom, 
 suah, and de folks says she's never gwine ter git up 
 ag'in, nohow." 
 
 " Good ! She's done for, then ? Now, old man, 
 tell me how I can get back to the ships." 
 
 "Don' you-all want nufBn to eat?" suggested the 
 old negro, making mysterious advances with his 
 hands into the bosom of his shirt. 
 
 Gushing, reminded, said that he was ready to eat 
 anything, whereupon the negro produced a corn 
 cake and a piece of a cold boiled sweet potato. 
 Gushing ate them both greedily while the old fellow 
 rattled on about this and that. 
 
 " Now, tell me how I can get back to the ships," 
 said Gushing, for the second time, when he had 
 finished the food his friend had brought him, 
 
 " Well, massa," began the negro, full of impor- 
 tance, " you jes' creep back through dis yere corn 
 field tell you come to de swamp, and den you turn 
 sharp to youah right, and keep straight ahead, and 
 den de good Lord knows where you-all '11 come to, 
 'cause I cain't rightly tell. But it'll be somewhere 
 near where you want to go." 
 
 Gushing laughed as he thanked him for the in- 
 formation, and set out once more. The swamp was 
 a tangle of underbrush and creeping vines. He 
 could not see ten feet ahead of him. His only guide 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 237 
 
 was the sun. But one thing was reasonably certain. 
 No one would be likely to find him. 
 
 At two o'clock he broke out upon the edge of a 
 creek. He lay down behind the bushes on the bank 
 to rest before he swam it. As he was lying there 
 he heard several voices down-stream. They were 
 drawing closer. He crept farther back in the bushes, 
 and watched. 
 
 Presently seven Confederate soldiers came loafing 
 up the stream in a skiff. They, too, were discussing 
 the destruction of the Albemarle. " We picked most 
 of 'em up out of the water," he heard one of them tell- 
 ing the others, " but the one that led 'em got away." 
 
 " Drowned, I reckon," suggested another. 
 
 " The consarned Yank ! " exclaimed a third, in- 
 dignantly. " Ef I could lay my hands on him I'd 
 make him dance a plenty for it, consarn me ef I 
 wouldn't ! " Cushing could barely refrain from call- 
 ing out some taunt to the fellow, but he forced him- 
 self to be content with a quiet chuckle. 
 
 He waited for them to pass, but they did not pass. 
 They stopped rowing, and looked this way and that, 
 " Might as well land here," said one. " It's as good 
 a place as any." His eyes were fixed on the bank 
 ten feet from where Cushing lay in hiding. 
 
 " Naw," protested another. " T'other side's bet- 
 ter, I know a spot up yonder where we can stretch 
 out and take it easy for a spell." 
 
 The ensuing wrangle was exceedingly interesting to 
 Lieutenant Cushing. In the end the opposite bank 
 
238 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 prevailed. They paddled over to it, climbed out, 
 made their boat fast, picked up their grub, and went 
 up a little path that led over the bank. 
 
 When they were out of sight Gushing crept down 
 to the creek, waded in, swam across, untied the boat, 
 climbed in, pushed ofT, and rowed down-stream, 
 laughing to himself over the mental picture he drew 
 of the seven men when they should return to resume 
 their journey in the skiff. 
 
 It was then two o'clock in the afternoon. At 
 eleven o'clock that night the lookout on the Valley 
 City, one of the Union boats in the fleet, saw a skiff 
 slowly drawing close over the waters of the Roanoke. 
 " Ship ahoy ! " came a shout from the skiff, as he 
 watched it, with his musket cocked. They never felt 
 safe from tricks those days. 
 
 "Who goes there?" demanded the lookout. 
 
 " A friend. Take me up." 
 
 A friend ! What would a friend be doing out 
 there at that time of night? The lookout called a 
 superior. There was brief consultation. Presently 
 boats were lowered and manned ; the men carried 
 arms. Meanwhile the Valley City was getting under 
 way. She was not to be trapped so easily. 
 
 The boats approached the skiff, ready for anything. 
 " Who are you ? " they hailed, as they drew closer. 
 
 The answer came back : " Lieutenant Gushing, or 
 what is left of me." 
 
 " Gushing ! " The voice that had hailed was ex- 
 cited. " And the Albemarle ? " 
 
"ANOTHER STRIPE OR A COFFIN" 239 
 
 " Will never trouble you again," was the rejoinder. 
 " She lies in a muddy grave at the bottom of the 
 Roanoke." 
 
 The men in the boats bent to their oars with a 
 will. When they came near the skiff they could see 
 no one in her. As they drew up alongside and 
 looked into her, they saw him, senseless from fatigue, 
 lying on the bottom. 
 
 He had got another stripe. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 
 
 William Halford, coxswain of the captain's 
 gig on the little side-wheel gunboat Saginaw^ 
 knocked the ashes out of his pipe against the capstan 
 on the forecastle head and turned to the mess boy 
 who was standing beside him. " So you've not 
 heard of Ocean Island, lad?" he said. "There are 
 a lot of poor fellows who would be glad if they could 
 say as much." 
 
 "Why, what is it?" asked the boy, expecting 
 some of the sea lore with which this man delighted 
 to fill his ears. 
 
 " Ocean Island, my lad, is a bit of a trap set by the 
 evil one for such as us who follow the sea," Halford 
 went on, casting an eye weather-ward and up and 
 down the decks of the little ship, from force of habit. 
 " 'Tis but a pile of sand gathered on a hunch of 
 rocks away out here at the edge of the string of is- 
 lands that is scattered through these waters ; a foot- 
 hill, ye might say, of a range of mountains under 
 the sea. One end of the range, near two thousand 
 mile to the eastward, is the Sandwich Islands, and 
 Midway, where we have been making soundings and 
 deepening the harbor entrance, is another peak in 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 241 
 
 the long ridge that is high enough to stick its head 
 up through the water." 
 
 "How big is it?" 
 
 " Ocean Island ? No bigger than your thumb, so 
 to speak. A strip of sand, I tell ye, lad, with no 
 water on it, and nothing green, and only now and 
 then a stray bird ; a duck, perhaps, or a goony, or 
 booby ; and a few seal, odd times. All around it are 
 reefs that chew the swells into suds, all manner of 
 weather. Oh, it's a sweet place for any ship to 
 stumble over in the night, and there's many a poor 
 lad whose bones have whitened on that sand and 
 been buried beneath the drifts of it. I wish you better 
 luck than ever to be cast ashore there, John Policy." 
 
 "What are we going there for?" asked the boy, 
 with the curiosity of youth. 
 
 " On the chance that there may be some ship- 
 wrecked men there now," returned Halford. " Ocean 
 Island is out of the track of all trade, and a crew 
 would starve to death there many times over before 
 any vessel might happen that way. The old man 
 knows it well, and is taking a run over there before 
 he goes back home, on the chance that there is some 
 one there now needing help. It's only a matter of 
 a hundred miles or so from Midway. We should 
 be there by daylight in the morning, if nothing hap- 
 pens." Your old sailor will always say : " If nothing 
 happens," knowing how many things may happen 
 between the evening of one day and the morning of 
 the next. 
 
242 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The Sagiiiazv was a side-wheel steamer of 300 
 tons burden in the United States Navy, mounting 
 two guns, under command of Commander Mont- 
 gomery Sicard, to whom Halford, after the fashion 
 of sailors, had referred as "the old man." All 
 through the summer of 1870 the Saguiaiv had been 
 engaged in taking soundings of the harbor entrance 
 at Midway Island, and deepening it. Now, late in 
 October, the season was coming to a close and the 
 appropriation of money for carrying on the work 
 was running low, so the Saginaiv was starting home. 
 But on the way, as Halford had told Policy, she was 
 cruising over to Ocean Island to see if any ship- 
 wrecked sailors were there ; for Ocean Island was 
 all that Halford had said of it. 
 
 The SagmaWf like all steamers of her time, was 
 rigged to carry enough sail to drive her when the 
 wind was right, and she was slipping along now un- 
 der full canvas, with the fires banked under her 
 boilers and her steam under no head at all. The 
 long blue swells of the mid-Pacific, swinging softly 
 under her keel, were brilliant with the afternoon sun 
 of the tropics — Midway being not many degrees 
 above the Tropic of Cancer — but there was a sug- 
 gestion in the air of the colder blasts that would 
 sweep those seas in a month or two. 
 
 Just as Halford was on the point of launching 
 forth in a proper tale of shipwreck and death on 
 Ocean Island, eight bells went on the bridge and 
 was taken up by the bell on the forecastle head. It 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 243 
 
 was the beginning of Halford's watch on deck, and 
 he swung down the companionway that descended 
 to the main deck, leaving Policy to follow on his 
 way to the galley, disappointed in missing the story 
 that he saw coming. 
 
 When the crew turned in for the night, the breeze 
 was still fresh and fair, and the Saginaw was bowl- 
 ing along nicely, making fine weather of it. The 
 long Pacific swells were running regularly under her 
 keel. The wind, which had been fresh and steady 
 all day, had kicked up a bit of a sea, but, from the 
 sailors' point of view, it was smooth. You will never 
 get a sailor to say that the sea is rough until he gets 
 ashore and tells about it. 
 
 The crew was in high spirits, full of jokes and 
 pranks, as crews always are when homeward bound. 
 Danger was as far from their thoughts as though 
 they already were safe in their beds at home, for all 
 that they were rushing down through an unlighted 
 sea upon Ocean Island. For was not the Saginazv 
 a staunch little craft, although she was small, and 
 was not Commander Sicard, the *' old man," a good 
 old salt who knew the sea and all its tricks ? 
 
 William Halford was on the lookout from ten at 
 night until midnight. The Saginazv was still sailing 
 steadily on her course, headed due west, and making 
 an easy six knots, when he went below. Before he 
 turned in, Halford took a look at the log, out of 
 curiosity, and made a rough computation. " You'll 
 see your little island by daylight," he told John 
 
244 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Polley, whom he found awake in his hammock, too 
 excited with the thoughts of going home and the 
 evil report of Ocean Island, to sleep easily. " And 
 you can thank your stars that you will have a good 
 ship's bottom under you when you set eyes on it," 
 added Halford, as he sought out his hammock and 
 turned in. 
 
 Halford was awakened some time in the night by 
 the sound of the boatswain's whistle piping all hands 
 on deck. He sat up abruptly. It was still dark, as 
 he could see by the ship's lantern that blurred holes 
 in the blackness of the berth-deck. Overhead was 
 the scurrying of feet and the sound of voices lifted 
 in quick command. The noises of the sea beating 
 against the timbers of the vessel were not the noises 
 of the pulsing and softly slipping swells of the high 
 seas running evenly under her keel. There was the 
 lashing hiss of crested waves and blows against the 
 ship's sides that sent shivers through her. 
 
 For a brief moment Halford thought that a sudden 
 squall had struck them, but in the next his knowl- 
 edge of the sea told him it was no squall. The 
 waves whipped against the sides in too rapid succes- 
 sion ; the craft jerked and lurched too sharply. A 
 misgiving seized him. He leaped out of his ham- 
 mock and hurried on deck, shaking John Polley 
 awake as he passed him. 
 
 In a glance Halford saw that a change had come 
 over the sea. High crested waves swung past with 
 a mighty rush, following one another closely. Their 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 245 
 
 flanks were sharp and steep. The little Saginaw 
 was twisting and pitching among them ; combers 
 climbed her as every sea swept past. The breeze 
 was not stronger than it had been. One thing only 
 could cause those waves. ** Breakers ! " exclaimed 
 Halford, to himself. 
 
 Men were aloft, taking in sail. Officers hurried 
 up and down the deck, shouting orders. Com- 
 mander Sicard was on the bridge, calm and alert. 
 Down in the boiler room was the clanging sound of 
 the firemen stirring their banked fires in an effort to 
 get up steam. There was no excitement aboard ; 
 only orderly haste. 
 
 Halford leaped into the rigging and scrambled up 
 to give a hand to the furling of the sail. From 
 aloft, as he climbed, he looked out over the raging 
 breakers. At a little distance ahead the waves 
 broke utterly in a crash of foam, and ran down 
 smoothly beyond into calm water. Lying long and 
 sinister in the midst of the calm water was an island ; 
 so much Halford could see by the light of the stars. 
 That it was Ocean Island he had no doubt. Cur- 
 rents were many and treacherous in those waters ; 
 one of them must have swept the Saginaw along 
 her course faster than the log showed. 
 
 "Where are we?" came from beside him as he 
 leaned across the yard, his feet far behind him on 
 the foot-rope, his nails clawing the stiff, hard sail- 
 ful of wind. It was John Policy ; the lad had fol- 
 lowed him aloft. 
 
246 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Ocean Island," grunted Halford between teeth 
 set in his struggle with the obstinate sail. " Go be- 
 low I " It was no place for a mess boy. 
 
 " It isn't morning yet," observed the lad, puzzled. 
 
 The distance between the little vessel and the last 
 mad crashing of the breakers was lessening with 
 sickening swiftness. Down below could be heard 
 the rattle and clatter of the firemen, raking their 
 fires, trying to get steam on her in time. 
 
 " Get below ! " snapped Halford to Polley. 
 " You're in the way here." The Saginaw was 
 lurching horribly ; John could do nothing but cling 
 for his life to the jack-stay. 
 
 But the boy in him persisted in wanting to know 
 all about it. "Are we going to be wrecked?" he 
 asked, excitedly, his mind full of visions of what 
 that meant on Ocean Island. 
 
 Halford was on the brink of a savage answer, but 
 he relented. " Get below, I tell you ! " was all he 
 said. 
 
 Smoke was beginning to wind in larger volume 
 out of the funnel. The sails were flapping on all the 
 yards, spilling the wind, which no longer urged her 
 on toward the reef. In a little time there would be 
 enough steam to back her out of danger. In a little 
 time ; but she was drifting fast toward the final 
 breaking of the waves where the reef lay. 
 
 John could not move. Men were between him 
 and the mast ; his short legs could scarcely reach 
 the foot-rope, which jerked and swayed perilously 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 247 
 
 as the sailors fought the sails into submission. The 
 little steamer continued to drive before the waves. 
 The men alow and aloft had done all they could ; 
 now all depended on the grim and grimy firemen 
 fighting to quicken their fires down in the dark hold. 
 Smoke was beginning to pour more and more out 
 of the funnel. It was a race with destruction. 
 
 Just as hope was beginning to brighten, one huge 
 breaker, creeping up astern, lifted the little ship in 
 its curling fingers, raised her high in the air, twisted 
 her around, swept her on with a shout of water, and 
 flung her down on the rocky bottom as a terrier 
 flings down a rat that it has shaken. The descent 
 was sickening ; the jolt when she struck tore John 
 Polley from his hold on the jack-stay, and he would 
 have fallen if Halford had not grabbed and held him. 
 
 There was a crunching sound from the entrails of 
 the ship ; she groaned horribly, like a thing alive 
 that has received its death-blow, and knows it. One 
 sharp shout arose from a dozen throats, and stopped. 
 The noise of the hissing waves, the crashing of the 
 broken craft, the cries of the officers on deck giving 
 quick commands, made the following hush seem 
 more empty than complete silence. 
 
 The Saginaw ceased lurching and twisting with 
 an awful suddenness. She lay steadily, a thing 
 dead. The combing breakers swept over her decks ; 
 she no longer rose to them ; excepting that parts of 
 her heaved now and then with a slow, low groan. 
 
 The sailors clambered out of the rigging. The 
 
248 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 vessel was already breaking up when they reached 
 the deck. Her bottom had been completely crushed 
 in by the impact against the reef. Parts of her 
 weather bulwarks were going ; the weather boats 
 had all been smashed or carried away. 
 
 Hard, bitter work was ahead of them all. Their 
 only hope was the island ; the little desert island of 
 drifted sand, where no green thing grew, where 
 there was no water, and where no ship came through 
 long months and months. Every succeeding wave 
 tore off pieces of the vessel ; the water about them 
 was filled with wreckage. Huge hunks of her fell 
 away, and lay apart on the reef. She was breaking 
 up rapidly. 
 
 But her very going to pieces helped them in 
 what they had to do. The parts that lay about on 
 the reef, or floated close by in the water, shielded 
 the stricken vessel from the force of the waves. 
 They could not get at her directly, as they had 
 done. They still broke across her decks, but not so 
 fiercely. 
 
 The men turned their energies toward getting out 
 what boats were left. There was the captain's gig, 
 an old cutter, and a dinghy, battered and strained, 
 but still safe enough. The rest of the boats that had 
 not been swept away were so torn asunder that they 
 could not have lived two minutes in the surf. 
 
 By great labor, full of danger, they at last suc- 
 ceeded in getting the gig into the water, and filling 
 it with men. Those left aboard saw her pass safely 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 249 
 
 through the surf across the reef, emerge on the 
 smooth water beyond and pull for the island. At 
 last the two other small craft were got overboard, 
 manned, and pulled across the reef and to the island. 
 The vessel had struck at three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing ; it was daylight before the crew were all ashore. 
 The captain was the last to leave. 
 
 The crew on the island w^as safe from the waves. 
 That great danger was past. But looming far 
 ahead of them, and not very far off, was another, no 
 less threatening, no less certain, for all that it was a 
 slow and subtle danger. They were ninety-six men, 
 all told, and they were on a desert island, with no 
 food, no chance to get any, no water, and no pros- 
 pect of a vessel coming that way to take them off. 
 
 Commander Sicard sent a boat, early in the morn- 
 ing, to see what might be saved from the wreck. 
 When the boat was half-way across the lagoon be- 
 tween the island and the reef, those in her set up a 
 shouting. They could see, through the clear, still 
 water, boxes and barrels of provisions that had been 
 washed over the reef. 
 
 Other boats were sent, with some hooks and ropes 
 that were procured from the wreck. The men pulled 
 up much of the stufl^ on the bottom. It was soaked 
 with brine, but it could be eaten. It was only 
 enough to last them two months, on quarter rations. 
 At the end of two months, what ? And they had no 
 water. 
 
 Commander Sicard soon supplied that want. He 
 
250 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 had his men drag an old boiler out of the wreck, 
 and set it up. They filled it with salt water, started 
 a fire under it, evaporated the brine, caught the 
 steam in pipes, and condensed it into water again. 
 It was fresh, of course, and they drank it. That 
 gave them the whole sea to drink. There was 
 enough of the wreckage already ashore to keep 
 them in fuel for a longer time than they would 
 need it. 
 
 Members of the crew were detailed to kill what 
 birds they could find, and seals. Of these the cook 
 made soup. The bottom of the lagoon was stripped 
 of shell-fish. Some other fish were caught, but they 
 were few, and not very good food. Some of the 
 fish in tropical waters cannot be eaten at all. 
 
 All this helped, of course ; but there were ninety- 
 six men to be fed. Ninety-six men, with little 
 chance of a rescue. That fact filled the mind of 
 every man, as he lay on the barren sand of the little 
 island. 
 
 Midway Island was only a hundred miles away, 
 but there was nothing there. The nearest port 
 where they could go for assistance was Honolulu, 
 fifteen hundred miles to the eastward. It was their 
 only chance. Some one must go to Honolulu. 
 
 " I will take the gig and go," said Lieutenant John 
 G. Talbot, sailing-master of the Saginaw. 
 
 *• I will go with you, if you please, sir," said 
 William Halford, coxswain of the captain's gig. 
 
 "So will I, sir," said John Policy. Commander 
 
Iir 'II!": 
 
 ;piffr!!j|: 
 
 !l !'!:' 
 
 
 
 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 251 
 
 Sicard shook his head at that ; John was only a boy. 
 Halford comforted him with a smile and an arm 
 about his shoulders. 
 
 Others came forward, offering to go. Three of 
 them were selected, making five in all to man the 
 gig. Five was a large number to provision for the 
 trip, but five could man the oars, if the wind failed, 
 and save in time what they might consume in food. 
 Also, five would be needed in case of bad weather. 
 
 The gig was badly battered. It had settled in the 
 water on the beach when they had finished their 
 work on the wreck with it. It was dragged up on 
 the sand, patched with pieces of wreckage, calked, 
 and strengthened with new thwarts. A mast was 
 stepped in it, and a suit of sails bent on. Another 
 suit was stowed aboard, in case the first should be 
 carried away. 
 
 They put aboard her what provisions could be 
 spared from the general store. There was enough 
 to last the five men twenty-five days, on quarter 
 rations. Three-fourths of it was a mixture of peas, 
 beans, wheat, and rice, that had been fished off the 
 bottom, dried in the sun, cooked, and put up in 
 tins. It was wretched food, but it had the advantage 
 of being nourishing and taking up little space. The 
 balance of their provisions was dessicated potatoes. 
 They had plenty of water put aboard in casks. 
 
 In this crazy patch-work craft, provisioned as she 
 was, the five men set out on November i8th. Those 
 left behind gave them three cheers as they rowed 
 
252 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 across the lagoon and picked their way through the 
 reef, and they gave back the cheers, with a will. 
 There is much in a cheer. 
 
 Once past the reef, they made sail. The northerly 
 trade filled the canvas, the little gig heeled over, 
 picked up her footing, and went bubbling and gur- 
 gling through the gray waves on her long journey, 
 dancing in the joy of motion as merrily as a yacht 
 on a cruise. 
 
 As the island dropped behind the rim of ocean 
 astern and there was nothing in view but heaving 
 water, the men in the gig felt how pitiably small 
 they were, and how large was the Pacific. Ahead 
 of them lay fifteen hundred miles of open sea, and 
 winter was coming on. Not that winter would be 
 very cold in those latitudes. But it was the season 
 of gales. The little craft could not withstand the 
 buffetings of many storms. She had no deck ; her 
 gunwale at its highest point was only a few feet above 
 the water. She had been strained and weakened by 
 her experiences in the wreck ; her frail ribs and thin 
 bottom seemed little enough to stand between them 
 and a watery grave if the sea should become too 
 angry. 
 
 And storms would cause delay, if nothing worse. 
 Time was precious. The crew of the Saginaw could 
 last six weeks more on the little island, at the utmost. 
 They had already been on the island three weeks 
 when the gig left ; in the beginning they had had 
 little more than two months' short rations. At the 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 253 
 
 end of six weeks they must surely starve, unless the 
 gig could make Honolulu in time to send them 
 help. 
 
 The weather came on nasty from the first. The sky 
 was like tin, a surly wind snarled down from the north 
 and northwest, sending hard waves against the tiny 
 craft and drenching the men with spray. From the 
 first hour they were soaked through. They did not 
 mind that. They thought only of their errand, and 
 the lives that depended on their success. The sea 
 had challenged them and they had taken up the chal- 
 lenge, with the joy that strong men have in a con- 
 test. Their fighting spirit was aroused ; they were 
 full of zealous enthusiasm. They smoked their pipes 
 and spun yarns of the sea. 
 
 On the first day out their courage was tried. 
 When the time came for supper, one of the men, 
 under the order of Lieutenant Talbot, opened a can 
 of the stuff — the peas, beans, rice and wheat that 
 had been fished up out of the water and cooked. 
 As he inserted his knife through the cover there was 
 a little wheezing pop from the contents of the can. 
 The man widened his eyes and held the slit tin to 
 his nose. A look of excitement came into his face. 
 The others watched him silently as he tore his knife 
 through the lid and bent it back. He sniffed again 
 at the contents, and cast a glance of concern at his 
 companions. " Spoiled ! " he said, briefly, with a 
 sailor's oath. 
 
 That was bad business. Three -fourths of all their 
 
254 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 provisions consisted of this mixture in the cans. Lieu- 
 tenant Talbot took the tin, smelled of it, tasted it, 
 made a wry face, and laid it on the bottom of the 
 gig. " Let's have another," he said, reaching out. 
 
 The sailor handed it to him. He opened and ex- 
 amined it as he had the first, the men watching him 
 closely as he did so. He shook his head and reached 
 out for another can, without a word. The third was 
 like the other two ; rotten. 
 
 " We'll try it ; we must eat it if we can," he said, 
 and took a mouthful. 
 
 He passed the can about. They all ate, a little. 
 The stufi was abominable. But they said nothing as 
 they consumed the ration ; it was part of the fight. 
 
 At midnight one of the men got up from the 
 bottom, where he slept, and staggered aft. Halford 
 was at the tiller. " I'm sick," said the man. 
 
 " It's that stuff in the cans," Halford observed, 
 and nothing more was said. The man presently lay 
 down again, suffering, but silent. In the morning 
 he was gray and weak, but he kept silence still. 
 
 They began on another can for breakfast. The 
 man who had been sick during the night tried to eat 
 his ration, but could swallow no more than a mouth- 
 ful or two. Lieutenant Talbot observed his difificulty. 
 " We've got to eat it," he said. " We've nothing 
 else but the dessicated potatoes." 
 
 Before night all the crew were sick, excepting 
 Halford. Still they ate the stuff. In three days 
 they were so ill they could scarcely stand ; even 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 255 
 
 Halford was feeling the effects of the poison in the 
 food. Their sickness was increasing, 
 
 " It's no use," said Lieutenant Talbot. " It will 
 kill us." He ordered the remaining cans to be 
 thrown overboard. 
 
 They were only at the beginning of their voyage ; 
 three-fourths of their stores were gone, but no one 
 suggested that they return to the island. If they 
 went back for more food, they would lose a precious 
 week ; and there was no food to spare where they 
 came from. 
 
 ^ On the evening of the third day Lieutenant Talbot 
 opened the dessicated potatoes and gave each man 
 a spoonful. " Mix it with water," he said. 
 
 They made a cold mush of it, and ate in silence. 
 
 That night Halford was at the tiller. He was not 
 so weak and sick as the others, being stronger to 
 resist. The rest of the crew were asleep in the 
 bottom. 
 
 As they slept Lieutenant Talbot went to Halford. 
 '* Halford," he said, " I can count on you?" 
 
 " For what, sir? " returned the coxswain, puzzled. 
 
 "The men may want to turn back," went on the 
 lieutenant. 
 
 Halford shook his head emphatically. ** If any 
 man says : * Go back,' I'll chuck him over, and glad 
 to do it, sir." 
 
 The lieutenant expressed his appreciation of the 
 other's staunchness by a moment of silence. " It's 
 pretty serious," he said, presently. " I could not 
 
256 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 blame them if they did want to return. Our po- 
 tatoes will last us only twenty-five days, if I give 
 them two spoonfuls a day. We have nothing else. 
 They are already sick and weak." Lieutenant Tal- 
 bot was as sick and weak as any, but he said noth- 
 ing about himself. " It will be a pretty close call, 
 either way. We may run out of rations, and we 
 may all starve to death on them, if they do last. But 
 we can't go back, Halford. We've got to get to 
 Honolulu. It's our only chance. It's their only 
 chance," with a nod of his head in the direction 
 of the island where they had left the ninety-one of 
 the Saginazu's crew waiting for them. 
 
 " We'll make it, sir," asserted Halford. 
 
 " You'll use your influence with the men, Hal- 
 ford," Talbot went on. " They depend on you ; 
 they believe in you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, but it won't be needed, sir," 
 Halford returned. " They all knew what they were 
 doing when they volunteered, and they'll die game, 
 every one of them, never fear for that." 
 
 " I'm not afraid they won't, Halford. But I 
 wanted to speak to you. I wanted to tell you our 
 situation, and have you explain it to the men, 
 quietly. I'll tell them myself, of course, but I'd like 
 to have you make a chance to prepare them, so the 
 truth will not give them too much of a shock." 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," returned the coxswain, and 
 Lieutenant Talbot turned in with the men. 
 
 The wind had been freshening throughout the 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 257 
 
 evening, and the sea had grown ugly. Halford, at 
 the tiller, was on the constant lookout to prevent 
 waves from breaking over the low sides of the gig. 
 He was weak and sick, but the others were weaker 
 and sicker than he, so he kept his post beyond the 
 end of his watch, thinking to let them rest. He 
 would wait until one of them woke up. 
 
 He looked out over the tumbling sea, dark and 
 ominous under the gray light of the few stars which 
 the sea and cloudy sky caught and held. The 
 loneliness oppressed him for a moment. He thought 
 of the many, many leagues of these waste waters that 
 they must traverse before they came to Honolulu. 
 He thought of the men waiting for their rescue on 
 the little island of sand ; of John Policy, the boy who 
 worshiped him as a hero. He was proud of that 
 worship ; he was very glad the boy had not been al- 
 lowed to come. For a moment, thinking of the lad, 
 he forgot his task. 
 
 A comber that he had not seen approaching 
 leaped up alongside, burst into a raging cataract, 
 and dashed across the gig. It caught her by the 
 stern and twisted her up into the wind, spilling the 
 sails. Halford was nearly swept away. He thrust 
 the tiller hard over, brought her back before the 
 wind, dodged two other large combers, and straight- 
 ened her out on her course again. He looked at 
 the compass, to make sure that he was pointed right. 
 He could not see the face of it. Then, for the first 
 time he noticed that the lantern, which had been 
 
258 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 lashed close at hand, was not burning. He reached 
 for it, thinking to light it again. It was gone. The 
 sea had carried it away. Somewhere beneath those 
 surges in their wake it was slowly drifting toward 
 the bottom. Weird and unknown fishes were nos- 
 ing it wonderingly. The fancy struck him : what 
 would those fishes think of the bodies of five men 
 floating down among them ? Perhaps there would 
 be an old finny fellow in the company who had seen 
 the corpse of a drowned sailor before and who 
 would tell his companions what they were. But had 
 any of them ever seen a lantern ? He laughed to 
 himself over the fancy as he fumbled for a match 
 with which he might read the compass. 
 
 But his matches were all wet ; they would not take 
 fire. There was nothing to be done but to steer by 
 wind and wave, and wait for the morning light to 
 show them their course on the needle. 
 
 " There's one thing about losing the lantern," said 
 Halford, in the morning, when the crew were dis- 
 cussing it, which they did at length, for there was 
 little enough for them to talk about. " There's one 
 thing. . We can have that five gallons of sperm oil 
 we brought to use for the lantern as a sauce on our 
 porridge." 
 
 They tried it that morning on their spoonfuls of 
 dessicated potatoes soaked in water, but they were 
 too sick and weak to retain it. All but Halford. 
 He was stronger than the others. He ate it heartily. 
 " Sorry, boys," he said, smacking his lips as though 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 259 
 
 he iiked it. It was his habit to make the best of 
 things. 
 
 Day after day they dragged their weary way 
 across the sea, with no ray of sunshine to warm and 
 dry them, and give them cheer. Sometimes the 
 wind only teased them with a vagrant puff now and 
 then, and they tried their oars, feebly, gaining little. 
 On other days it blew fresh, brisking at intervals into 
 a storm which threatened every minute to swamp 
 them. Weak as they were from illness and lack of 
 food, they had to struggle to their feet and fight the 
 storm, reefing sail, bailing ship, dodging huge waves. 
 Always they were wet through ; always they were 
 tossed about and beaten against each other by the 
 floundering of their tiny ship. And when they could 
 stand it no longer ; when their limp limbs sank be- 
 neath them, they must arise and fight again, for the 
 storm never wearied. 
 
 One day the storm winds outdid themselves. 
 Their force was so great that the voyagers took in all 
 their sails, and the little gig drove under its bare 
 pole. The rudder was not sufficient to keep them on 
 their course, and they manned the oars. Seas came 
 aboard continually. At last, one sea, more towering 
 than its fellows, swept over them with a rush that 
 jerked the oars out of their weakened grasp and 
 carried them overboard. They left their seats on the 
 thwarts and lay in the bottom of the boat, trusting to 
 fate. They had done all they could do. And fate 
 was good to them, for the wind soon blew itself out. 
 
26o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 and the sea ran down. They made sail again and 
 went on their course. 
 
 Through all their struggle they felt the pangs of 
 ever-growing hunger. Two spoonfuls a day, meas- 
 ured out of their scanty store, was all they could 
 have, and when that was eaten hunger still gnawed. 
 Daily, hourly they grew weaker. Leaving one man 
 to sail the boat, the others would lie in the bottom, 
 unless the storm demanded of them to get up and 
 fight, saying nothing, doing nothing, thinking noth- 
 ing, like dumb animals, waiting. 
 
 All but Halford. He was stronger than the others. 
 He could eat the sperm oil, and he found it food. 
 He stood his trick at the tiller, and often took the 
 turns of the other men. He tried to cheer them with 
 yarns and sailors' jokes ; he made light of their ex- 
 periences, as though they were nothing. They paid 
 no heed to him, lying in the bottom of the boat, 
 thinking of nothing, saying nothing, save that now 
 and then one of them would snarl out against Hal- 
 ford's chatter. Halford would smile at that, for the 
 outburst was a sign that fight was still left in the 
 man. 
 
 December came, and still they sailed, fighting 
 their way across the trackless wilderness of gray 
 water. A gaunt sight they would have been if any 
 could have looked down on them. Four men, with 
 faces gray as death and skin taut on their cheeks, 
 staring with glistening eyes that saw nothing into 
 the gray sky above, while the gray sea swirled be- 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 261 
 
 neath. And a fifth, teeth set, tense, clutching the 
 tiller and searching the horizon for something — any- 
 thing. And over it all silence, an utter silence ; for 
 by degrees Halford ceased to speak with his com- 
 panions. The effort was too great. A gaunt, gaunt 
 sight. 
 
 Twenty-five days had passed since they left the 
 island, and still they had not picked up the loom of 
 the Sandwich Islands. Perhaps they had lost their 
 reckoning. The sun had not been clear for taking 
 their sights on any day, and Lieutenant Talbot was 
 so weak, so sick, that he might have made an error 
 in working out their position. 
 
 Lieutenant Talbot, serving the rations on the 
 twenty-fifth day, scraped the bottom of the box 
 which had held the dessicated potatoes. There was 
 barely the spoonful apiece for each of them. " That 
 is all there is left," he said. 
 
 They mixed it with water, and ate it without an- 
 other word. 
 
 But at noon, when the lieutenant took the sight 
 on the cloud-blurred sun and was working out the 
 position of the craft, bending and mumbling over 
 the figures, he burst out laughing and crying, and 
 kept it up until Halford crawled over to where he 
 was and shook him back to his senses. 
 
 The next day was fine. The clouds cleared away 
 and the sun came out bright and warm, for the first 
 time since they started. The men gazed eagerly 
 out across the sea, running in sparkling waves about 
 
262 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 them, searching for the loom of an island. But there 
 was no sight of one. 
 
 Halford was at the tiller. The men were sleeping 
 again in the bottom of the boat. The warmth of 
 the sun comforted them and brought them more 
 strength ; they did not lie staring into the sk}?^ now. 
 Occasionally one of them would awaken, struggle 
 to his knees, crawl to the edge of the gig, and look 
 out across the waters wistfully, hungrily, for sight of 
 land, only to fall back again and sleep. 
 
 Halford, dropping into a doze with the tiller in 
 his hand, and dreaming of John Policy on the island 
 of sand, was startled into wakefulness by a rustling 
 sound at his ear. He looked around, and saw a 
 bird, a booby, perched on the gunwale of the gig 
 gazing stupidly at the men in the bottom of the 
 boat. The bird was an arm's length away. Hal- 
 ford stared at it for a moment before his brain would 
 work. At last an idea struck him. Here was food. 
 He gathered all his wits and strength, and, with a 
 sudden stretch of his hand, grasped the bird by one 
 leg, just as it was starting to fly ofif, alarmed by his 
 movement. 
 
 He wrung its neck, stripped the feathers from it, 
 and cut it into five pieces. Then he awakened his 
 companions, and gave them each a piece. They 
 ate it just as it was, warm, raw, bleeding. That, and 
 water, was all they had that day. 
 
 The next day a flying fish flew against Halford's 
 cheek, and fell to the bottom of the boat. The fish 
 
 I 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 263 
 
 was tiny, not more than three inches long ; it was 
 only a mouthful for one man ; the others were sleep- 
 ing in the bottom. Halford ate it. 
 
 Presently a school of them came scurrying along 
 over the top of the water. Six of them, lifting over 
 the boat, struck the sail and fell inside. Halford 
 gathered them up, awoke his companions, and dis- 
 tributed the food from the sky. 
 
 That was the last they had to eat for two days. 
 The men no longer crept to the side of the gig to 
 look out over the sea in search of land. They were 
 too weak. Only when it was needful to work ship, 
 to shift sail or man the rudder, did they stir from 
 the gig's bottom. For hour after hour they would 
 lie in complete silence, saying nothing, thinking 
 nothing. 
 
 Another day came. The man steering awoke 
 them at dawn with a cry of gladness and hope. 
 They scrambled to their feet. There, far off, dim in 
 the haze of the dawn, was the low loom of land. 
 They had come upon an island. What island they 
 could not know, but it must be one of the Sandwich 
 group. Before night they would be there. Hope 
 revived life in them ; they fell to talking once more. 
 Halford took out his pipe and put it in his mouth. 
 He could not smoke it ; his tobacco was wet, and 
 there was nothing with which to strike a light, but 
 he put it in his mouth and pulled on it with a feel- 
 ing of comfort. 
 
 Sitting, with pipe in mouth, gazing toward the 
 
264 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 distant land, Halford observed clouds gathering 
 above it. At first he thought it was only a mass of 
 trade-wind clouds, but soon his trained eye perceived 
 that it was more. He watched it for a space before 
 he spoke. Then he called the attention of Lieuten- 
 ant Talbot to the appearance. While they were yet 
 discussing it a ripple passed over the waves from 
 the direction of the land, and they felt the first pufi 
 of a growing breeze in their faces. 
 
 In an hour the breeze had increased to a fresh 
 breeze ; in another it was a gale, blowing in their 
 teeth. They had shortened sail before it came on so 
 strong. Now they hove to, under a close-reefed jib. 
 
 All day the wind blew. Toward night it hauled 
 abeam. They got a little more sail on the gig, 
 at the risk of being capsized, and managed to work 
 in closer to the island. In the morning the loom of 
 the land was bigger than it had been the night be- 
 fore. All that day they fought their way through 
 the choppy seas, carrying what sail they could. It 
 was weary, weary work. They had nothing to eat ; 
 it became a bitter fight between starvation and 
 strength of purpose. If the land had not been in 
 sight before them, they must surely have given up, 
 and lain down to die in the bottom of the boat. All 
 but Halford. He was still stronger than the others, 
 although pitiably weak. 
 
 In the afternoon of the second day of the blow 
 the wind hauled again, coming more astern, and 
 they made toward the island at a fair rate of speed. 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 265 
 
 They could not make out the coast upon which they 
 had come. For the most part it was a cHfE over- 
 hanging the sea. Here and there they could dis- 
 cern a brealc in the cliff, and low ground leading 
 down to the sea. And here and there a waterfall 
 tumbled over the cliff ; a white ribbon against the 
 green plush of the tropical foliage. Those coasts 
 are renowned for their beauty, but never were they 
 more beautiful to human eyes than on that afternoon 
 when the weary, starving mariners looked upon them 
 after thirty-one days on the tossing Pacific. 
 
 No town or sign of habitation appeared to the five 
 in the boat. It was a lonely coast, but they knew 
 that if they once got on shore they could find some 
 one living there. A plantation, perhaps, or a native 
 settlement. The natives were scattered all along the 
 lonely coasts of the Sandwich Islands. 
 
 They headed the gig for one of the breaks in the 
 precipice, keeping a sharp lookout for the reef, 
 which they expected to find in front of the beach. 
 Night came before they could make shore. They 
 knew that it would be safer to wait until morning 
 before attempting to land, but another night without 
 food and there might be none of them left to take 
 her in ; none, that is, but Halford. And another 
 contrary wind might drive them to sea again. 
 
 They decided to push ahead, and trust to good 
 fortune to get over the reef in the dark. Already 
 they could hear the breakers. Do not believe that 
 the sea tumbles high against an island coast only 
 
266 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 when there is a storm. Always and forever the 
 mighty swells, gathering depth and head for thou- 
 sands of miles as they swing through the mid-Pacific, 
 rush into the shallows with a wild roar, and dash 
 themselves into tumultuous cataracts. 
 
 With their last strength summoned for the final 
 eflort, they approached the bellowing reef, watchful, 
 alert. Closer and closer they went, straight for the 
 low place which they could still see in the dusk 
 dipping down from the high sky-line of the clifls. 
 The reef shouted in their ears ; they were already 
 among the breakers. Lieutenant Talbot, scarcely 
 able to stand, took the tiller, with Halford to help 
 him. Little good in a tiller then ! They needed 
 their oars to help them through the great combers. 
 But the oars were adrift somewhere out on the waste 
 of waters that tossed and tumbled between them and 
 the ninety-one shipwrecked sailors on Ocean Island. 
 
 Farther and farther into the breakers they drove, 
 closer and closer to the reef. Beyond the reef was 
 a mile of smooth water. Once there, and they could 
 paddle themselves ashore. 
 
 A stretch of not more than five fathoms separated 
 them from the smooth water. The breakers between 
 them and safety were higher, more savage than 
 those they had come through, but the distance was 
 short. Each following wave, catching them up to 
 the sky, drove them farther ; foot by foot they were 
 gaining safety. 
 
 They were beginning to breathe more easily, when 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 267 
 
 one wave more fierce than the others caught the 
 gig in its comb, and flung it over. Three times it 
 turned and twisted in the cataract of tumbhng water. 
 The mast was snapped off with the first turn ; sails 
 and ropes were scattered in the water. 
 
 WilHam Halford, stronger than the others from 
 the beginning, grasped the wreckage and clung to 
 it, while wave after wave hurled itself over him. 
 Between the waves he could see that no one was 
 left in the boat. Whether they had been swept out 
 and drowned, or whether they had saved themselves, 
 he could not tell. One thought filled his mind. He 
 thought of those ninety-one men marooned on the 
 little spit of sand they had left a month before, al- 
 ready beginning to feel the pinch of hunger. He 
 thought of John Policy, the mess boy who had 
 chosen him for his hero. He saw them all in his 
 mind's eye, sitting on the sand gazing seaward, 
 waiting. He saw the look in the eyes of the lad. 
 And he knew that if some one of the five who had 
 come in the gig did not get ashore, those ninety 
 men, and the boy, must surely die. 
 
 The thought gave him new strength ; a strength 
 that seemed to come flowing into his body from 
 without. He kept his head, and clung to the wreck- 
 age, waiting for the gig to be carried over into 
 smooth water. It was still afloat and right side up. 
 Presently it slid over the last breakers and came to 
 rest in the lagoon, half filled with water, battered, 
 wrecked, but still afloat. 
 
268 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 Halford climbed in. There was no sign of the 
 four. Slowly, slowly, the gig drifted toward the 
 shore. When she had come to within a few fathoms, 
 Halford got out the despatch box, containing the re- 
 port of the wreck of the Saginaiv, made it fast to his 
 shoulders with lashings, slipped overboard, and 
 struck out for the shore. He could see it looming 
 ahead of him in the faint light of many stars. 
 
 After a time that seemed to him an eternity he 
 felt the bottom beneath his knees, crawled a few 
 feet, and sank down. He knew no more. 
 
 When he awoke his feet were in the sea and his 
 head on the sand of a beach. It was broad day- 
 light. He tried to get up, but could not. One 
 of his knees was badly hurt ; he was not able to 
 bend it. 
 
 He raised his head and looked about for the gig. 
 It was nowhere in sight. He looked for some of his 
 companions. They were not to be seen. He tried 
 once more to get up, but his stiff knee pained him 
 too severely. He sank back on the sand. 
 
 Near him he saw a piece of drift-wood ; a broken 
 branch with a smaller branch near one end, forming 
 a crotch. The branch was four or five feet long ; 
 the crotch was at one end. He reached out and 
 picked it up. With that as a crutch he got on his 
 feet. 
 
 Twenty feet from where he had landed was a sheer 
 cliff. If he had gone in there instead of where he 
 was he would have been ground to pieces in the 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 269 
 
 surf. In front of him, through a break in the cliff, 
 the land came shelving down to the beach. He 
 thought he saw dim traces of a trail going up the 
 slope. He hobbled to the foot of the path, and 
 began to climb, with great pain, and very slowly. 
 More than once he would have given up, if his own 
 life had been the only one depending upon him. 
 But there were the ninety men on Ocean Island — and 
 the boy, John Polley. 
 
 He gave out when he was near the top, and had 
 to sit down to rest. He was trying to force himself 
 to rise, against an almost irresistible desire to lie 
 down and sleep, when he heard steps coming toward 
 him down the trail. The bushes parted close by, 
 and a native man appeared before him. 
 
 Not until he saw the native's expression did Hal- 
 ford realize what a spectacle he presented. Haggard, 
 almost without clothes, and those that he had cling- 
 ing wet to his shrunken limbs, his hair filled with the 
 sand of the beach, his staring eyes glistening with a 
 wild light, he was a sight to frighten any one stum- 
 bling across him sitting by the side of a lonely trail 
 near the sea. 
 
 The native was clearly frightened ; too frightened, 
 apparently, to move, or cry out. Halford reached 
 up his arms toward him in a gesture of appeal. 
 "Aloha," he said. It was the one Kanaka word 
 he knew. It is their universal salutation and greet- 
 ing, meaning more than any one word or phrase we 
 have. 
 
270 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The man was sufficiently relieved of his fear to 
 shout. Others came running. They stood about 
 Halford, talking excitedly. Gradually reassured by 
 their numbers, and Halford's repetition of the word 
 " Aloha," and perceiving that the strange man 
 needed help, they made bold to lift him to his feet 
 and take him to their huts, not far off in a little 
 tropical valley. The natives of Hawaii are a gentle, 
 kindly race. 
 
 The rest is soon told. One of them went running 
 for a half-white living near by who could speak Eng- 
 lish, The half-white came, heard the story, and took 
 Halford to a plantation where a white man lived. 
 The man's name was Bent. Mr. Bent cared for him 
 for two days, feeding him a little at a time until he 
 could take more food, and then procured for him a 
 native schooner which took him to Honolulu. The 
 island where he had landed was Kauai, ninety miles 
 from Honolulu. 
 
 The people of Honolulu, hearing Halford's story, 
 rushed to the assistance of the shipwrecked men on 
 Ocean Island. Before night a schooner was des- 
 patched, laden with provisions and medical supplies. 
 The next day a steamer set out. 
 
 The steamer was the first to reach Ocean Island. 
 The entire crew was found alive, and in good health. 
 Commander Sicard had kept them busy building a 
 schooner from the wreckage of the Saginazv. The 
 vessel was nearly completed. Undoubtedly they 
 would have set sail in a few days, if the steamer 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 271 
 
 had not come, in the beUef that the gig had never 
 reached its destination. It is well that they did not 
 have to trust themselves to it. 
 
 Halford went from Honolulu to San Francisco on 
 the first steamer, and spent some time in the Marine 
 Hospital at Mare Island. He was afterward made 
 a gunner and given a Medal of Honor by Congress 
 for his heroic bravery in bringing news of the wreck 
 to Honolulu. He was almost as proud of the honor 
 as John Policy was. 
 
 The others who had been in the captain's gig with 
 Halford were never found. They had been drowned 
 in the surf when the boat overturned. They had 
 done their duty, and paid with their lives for the 
 safety of their companions of the Saginaw. It was 
 a heavy price, but they paid it gladly. Their hero- 
 ism is not unrewarded. They will be spoken of with 
 tender respect as long as virtue and valor are dear 
 to the American heart, which will be forever. 
 
 Remember their names. Lieutenant Talbot, Peter 
 Francis, James Muir, and John Andrews. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 
 
 "Capture or destroy the Spanish squadron at 
 Manila." 
 
 Over lands and under seas, half-way over the 
 round earth, the message flashed from Washington 
 to Commodore George Dewey, at the British port of 
 Hongkong, in China, on the twenty-fifth of April, 
 1898. Two months before the battle-ship Maine had 
 been blown up in the harbor of Havana, Cuba, and 
 now the United ^States, incensed and outraged by 
 the destruction of the lives of its sailors in a Spanish 
 port, had declared war, and flashed the order for the 
 capture or destruction of the Spanish squadron at 
 Manila. 
 
 And George Dewey, fighting man, grizzled gradu- 
 ate of many a bloody fight, in command of half a 
 dozen little war-ships that were the sport and jest of 
 the sailors of other nations foregathered in that dis- 
 tant quarter of the globe, set his chin, and made 
 ready to do his duty. Alone at the ends of the 
 earth, six thousand miles from a friendly port, 
 laughed at by fellows of his craft, he prepared to 
 carry out the order to " capture or destroy " a fleet 
 of unknown force in a harbor that was unknown. 
 Stories were being told up and down the China coast 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 273 
 
 of the horrid strength of the defenses of Manila Bay ; 
 of forts swarming with Krupp guns ; of a mesh of 
 mines that underlay the harbor entrances, ready to 
 hurl to destruction any hostile craft that ventured 
 among them ; of a stout and sturdy fleet lying in 
 wait for whatever victim might escape the first dan- 
 gers that beset the mouth of the bay. This was the 
 fleet he must " capture or destroy." 
 
 Perhaps his thoughts ran back to that time thirty- 
 seven years before when he had been second lieu- 
 tenant on Farragut's flag-ship, the Mississippi^ that 
 day the Union fleet battered the Confederate forts 
 at the mouth of the Mississippi River ; perhaps he 
 thrilled again in memory of the hour when the same 
 ship lay stranded and helpless under the guns of 
 Port Hudson, and he lingered on her decks with the 
 last, spiking her guns, leaving only with the captain 
 a moment before fire reached her magazine and 
 flung her in slivers into the air ; perhaps his heart 
 beat to the remembered boom of the great guns that 
 had roared in the two attacks on Fort Fisher ; per- 
 haps the joy of fighting warmed within him. But 
 there was no sign in the face and manner of the 
 man ; he went about his task like one whose trade 
 and craft it is to " capture and destroy " hostile 
 fleets, in whatever part of the world they may lurk. 
 
 Five days later the six fighting ships of the 
 Asiatic squadron, with their three attendants, were 
 steaming along the shores of Luzon, an island in 
 the Philippines on which is the city of Manila, for 
 
274 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 centuries an outpost of Old Spain. Somewhere 
 ahead of them the shores broke open into a long, 
 wide bay, on whose banks, twenty miles from the 
 entrance, stood the ancient city. On both lips of the 
 entrance, and on two islands that lay in the channels, 
 were the forts which the stories said were bristling 
 with heavy guns. Beyond them were the mines, 
 and beyond the mines, shores lined and fringed with 
 batteries and forts. Amongst them all was the fleet 
 to be destroyed. 
 
 Grim and gray in their war paint, the six sailed 
 on, creeping and feeling up the coast on the watch 
 for the enemy, who might come out to meet them. 
 They poked their steel noses into Subig Bay, think- 
 ing the Spanish might be there, and then, across the 
 soft-heaving, smooth and sunlit tropic sea they 
 churned forward toward Manila. Night came; a 
 gray night, with the moon behind clouds ; a night 
 with a sluggish, leaden sea, across which heaved 
 and muttered the war-ships. 
 
 It was midnight when they reached the mouth of 
 the bay. Every light on the war vessels was put 
 out excepting one hanging at the stern of each so 
 that the next could see where to follow. These 
 lights were shielded ; they could be seen only from 
 astern, and not at all from the shore. 
 
 In through the jaws of the entrance stretched the 
 leaden sheet of the sea, pierced by the islands where 
 forts were supposed to be ; one fiat island, and the 
 other a towering bulk, four hundred feet high ; El 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 275 
 
 Fraile and Corregidor. Beyond was the bay, 
 mysterious with the possibility of destruction, un- 
 marked by light or buoy, dreadful with mines, 
 across which the Americans must track to the 
 squadron that was to be destroyed. The Olympia, 
 Dewey's flag-ship, turned her nose shoreward and 
 pressed for the entrance, followed by the others in 
 line. 
 
 The silence of a thousand men was upon the 
 ships as they stole into the entrance. They stood 
 about, wakeful and alert, not knowing at what mo- 
 ment the guns of which they had heard so much 
 might open on them, or the bottom of the sea heave 
 up with an exploding mine. The strain on nerves 
 was tremendous. Orders passed now and then 
 along the lines in strained whispers ; hearts beat 
 fast ; rasping sighs of suspense broke from breasts 
 that knew no fear. It is hard to walk up into the 
 face of death and not be able to look it in the eye. 
 
 A light flashed on one of the islands, and was an- 
 swered by a rocket. The men drew breath, expect- 
 ing the next moment to hear the rushing boom of 
 guns and the clanging crash of shot against the iron 
 of their ships. But the gray monsters slid onward 
 undisturbed. 
 
 They were well inside when a coal-heaver on 
 board the McOillough, a small vessel of the revenue 
 service, threw on some soft coal. A torrent of fiery 
 sparks burst forth from the funnel ; the entire fleet 
 looked on at the fiery, spurting smoke. Surely even 
 
276 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 a Spaniard must see such a sight in the midst of his 
 harbor ! 
 
 A Spaniard did. There was a flash on the shore 
 of one of the islands, and a shot struck the water in 
 front of the McCullough, followed by the sound of 
 the gun that had fired ; the shot had sped faster 
 than the noise. Another gun, and another, roared 
 into the night, answered by guns from the fleet. 
 
 " Remember the J/«/«<? .^ " cried the sailors at their 
 posts. " Remember the i]/<3!m^ .^ " The thought of 
 their brothers slain in the harbor of Havana mad- 
 dened them ; they exulted in the joy of striking back 
 in revenge. 
 
 But the time was not yet. One shell from the 
 Concoi'd burst directly over the spot whence the 
 Spaniards were firing, and there were no more shots 
 from shore. The harbor entrance, " bristling with 
 terrible guns," was safely passed. But ahead lay 
 fields of mines, and the other forts, and the fleet that 
 was to be captured or destroyed. 
 
 On the bridge of the Olympia stood Commodore 
 Dewey. With him were Lieutenant Rees and 
 Lieutenant Calkins, the pilot who was to lead the 
 fleet across the unmarked gray harbor to the city, 
 its scattered lights faint points far to the north. 
 History was in their hands that early morning. 
 
 Slowly the gray warmed to a brighter gray in the 
 east, and the day gave warning of its approach. 
 Imperceptibly the light crept over the water, as the 
 little fleet of American ships churned slowly forward, 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 277 
 
 and at last the anxious eyes on the vessels made out 
 the enemy's squadron behind the battery of Cavite, 
 six miles short of Manila. 
 
 Five o'clock came, and the signal burst from the 
 peak of the Olympia : " Prepare for action." They 
 were ready, those men, with the memory of the 
 Maine hot in their minds. They were more than 
 ready. 
 
 Past Cavite the fleet steamed, prepared for action, 
 every man at his post, stokers far below in the 
 engine room, not knowing when a shell might pierce 
 the boilers overhead and let down upon them death 
 in scalding steam ; engineers prowling in the clank- 
 ing engine ; ammunition men at the bottoms of the 
 hoists ; gunners standing by their guns ; officers on 
 the bridge, all nerves taut and strung for the fight 
 that meant glory or destruction. 
 
 Cavite leaped into resounding flame, and metal 
 hurtled across the waters in a sheet, churning the 
 surface, sending spouts and jets to fall back again 
 in tinkling splashes. No answer came from the 
 American fleet. Malate, south of the city, opened 
 up ; the batteries on the sea wall ; the forts beyond. 
 The gray monsters wound through the torrent of 
 fire untouched and silent. 
 
 Suddenly the water in front of the Baltimore bulged 
 and broke into a lifting mass that rose high in air 
 and fell back with a roaring gush. One of the sub- 
 marine torpedoes had been fired. Each man gripped 
 himself and braced his nerves against the next that 
 
278 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 should explode, not knowing whether it might not be 
 beneath the keel of his own vessel ; not knowing 
 whether he might not in an instant be tossed aloft 
 in the midst of a tangle of twisted iron that would 
 descend and sink beneath the water, dragging his 
 mangled body with it. Their arms ached to be at 
 the enemy ; but up on the bridge of the Olympia, 
 grizzled and grim, stood the man who had history 
 in his hand, not making a motion in reply. 
 
 They bent in a wide sweep in front of Manila and 
 turned back toward Cavite, closer inshore, passing 
 obliquely toward the Spanish squadron in line across 
 the bay behind Cavite point ; nine vessels of war in 
 all, commanded by the brave Admiral Montojo, 
 manned by the courage of Castile. " Capture or 
 destroy the Spanish squadron at Manila," the order 
 from Washington had read. Here, then, was the 
 squadron that was to be captured or destroyed. 
 
 The Spanish fleet was barking at the Americans. 
 Their shots, at first falling short in the water, began 
 to climb farther and farther toward the American 
 vessels. Presently they thumped close at hand, or 
 passed across, sputtering in the air. Dewey, calm, 
 cool, quiet, glanced at the shore. " About five thou- 
 sand yards I should say, eh, Rees ? " He turned the 
 question to Lieutenant Rees, standing beside him. 
 
 ** Between five and six, I should say, sir," re- 
 turned the lieutenant. They might have been dis- 
 cussing the probability of rain, so unconcerned were 
 their tones. 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 279 
 
 Dewey leaned over the bridge ; Captain Gridley 
 stood below on the main deck. " When you are 
 ready you may fire, Gridley," he said, quietly. 
 
 The pent-up roar that burst from the guns of the 
 Olympia on the instant told how ready they were. 
 The bridge quivered and heaved from the shock of 
 the guns ; the vessel trembled and quavered. It was 
 like a blow. 
 
 All along the line of vessels reaching behind the 
 terrible din shook into the air. " Remember the 
 Maine ! Remember the Maine I " rang the cry. 
 It reached the ears of the Spaniards on their ships ; 
 swarthy faces turned pale to hear it. The time of 
 vengeance was at hand. 
 
 Once, twice, six times the American vessels twisted 
 back and forth in front of the doomed enemy, each 
 time drawing closer. Their mighty broadsides beat 
 and pulsed like a great clock of doom, punctuating 
 the incessant roar of the Spanish guns of fleet and 
 forts. Now here, now there, the Americans — the 
 "Yankee pigs" — turned their fire, hurling all their 
 force on this vessel and on that of the enemy. Sub- 
 lime and terrible struggle ! 
 
 Great holes, beaten through the iron sides of the 
 Spanish ships, yawned wider with each pulsing 
 broadside. They tottered under the blows, their 
 sides sagging and crumpling up. Fires broke out 
 and burned behind the Spaniards, fighting frantically 
 at their guns. Incessantly, relentlessly, the Ameri- 
 can solid shot and shell clanked against the iron 
 
28o BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 ships, beating them into masses of junk ; the aim of 
 the men behind the guns was deadly in its accuracy. 
 
 Do not believe that the Spaniards were not brave. 
 But it takes more than bravery to win a fight. The 
 Spanish fire was wild. Scarcely a shot of the 
 myriad that swept across the waters of the bay found 
 a target. Now and then one thunked with a sharp 
 twang against a ship's side, passing harmlessly 
 through, or exploding where it did no hurt. One, 
 entering the Baltimore, glanced this way and that, 
 leaving holes where it passed, until finally it hit a 
 ventilator and spent itself spinning on the deck. In 
 its course it passed through a box of ammunition for 
 a three-pounder, exploding the powder and hurting 
 six men. But they would not go below into the sick 
 bay ; the surgeon's instruments lay spread unused on 
 the operating tables. 
 
 At the third tightening turn of the American ves- 
 sels, Admiral Montojo, frantic under the punishment 
 his vessel, the Reina Christina, was receiving, 
 slipped cable and steamed out toward the Raleigh. 
 Instantly she drew the fire of the entire American 
 fleet. Reeling under the blows, she turned and 
 started back. As she turned a gunner in the for- 
 ward turret of the Olympia aimed an eight-inch gun 
 at her stern, directed toward him at the time. 
 Delicately as though it had been a squirrel rifle, he 
 pointed the weighty mass of metal, twenty-eight feet 
 long, at the exposed end of the enemy's flag-ship. 
 The shell ripped its way through, from end to end, 
 
On Board the Olympia, Battle of Manila Bay 
 
 Reproduced from "Harper's Pictorial 
 History of the War with Spain." Copy- 
 right 1898, 1899, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 281 
 
 tearing down bulwarks and slaying men in its 
 course. The Reina Christina limped into line a 
 wreck, and the admiral transferred his flag to the 
 Isla de Cuba, just as Captain Perry had once trans- 
 ferred his from the Lazorence to the Niagara. But 
 Montojo was not a Perry. 
 
 What was that creeping out from the shelter of 
 Cavite ? That low-lying tiny craft ? The alarm ran 
 through the fleet that it was a torpedo boat. Every 
 gun was turned upon it. It stopped, hesitated, 
 turned, and drifted slowly back, bringing up on 
 shore. The men were relieved. They did not know 
 until the fight was ended that the " torpedo boat " 
 was nothing but a private launch belonging to an 
 Englishman that had put out to meet an expected 
 ship and bring off a trunk that was thought to be 
 aboard. By great good luck no shot from the fleet 
 reached the little craft ; its Philippino crew cowered 
 in safety in the bottom of it. 
 
 Two hours had passed, when a more alarming 
 rumor ran through the fleet. Somebody had said 
 that only fifteen rounds of ammunition remained to 
 each gun. Dewey, standing on the bridge of the 
 Olympia, heard the tale. He turned to Lieuten- 
 ant Rees. " What time is it, Rees ? " he asked. 
 
 " Seven forty-five, sir." 
 
 Dewey smiled grimly. " Breakfast time," he said. 
 " Run up the signals to * cease firing ' and to ' follow 
 me.' " There would be time to finish the work after 
 breakfast. The men had been awake and alert all 
 
282 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 night, with nothing but a cup of coffee, and the joy 
 of fighting, to sustain them. 
 
 A mutter of disappointment ran through the crews 
 as the vessels drew away into the bay. They could 
 not understand why the work was left undone ; why 
 they must quit as long as there were fifteen rounds of 
 shot left in their magazines. 
 
 It was a strange breakfast those smoke-grimed 
 sailors ate under the tropical sky in the distant port 
 that May morning. Two hours before they had 
 grappled with an unknown fate ; now they were con- 
 querors, only waiting to complete their work. 
 Alone, six thousand miles from possible support, 
 they sat down to their coffee and bread with gay 
 hearts, discussing, as they ate, the shots they had 
 fired. 
 
 The commanders of the various ships gathered on 
 the decks of the Olynipia to report the conditions of 
 their vessels. Not a man had been killed or seriously 
 hurt, not a gun was out of working order, not a ship 
 disabled I "All in good order, sir, except that it was 
 very hot," reported Captain Wildes of the Boston ; 
 — Captain Wildes, who had drunk his coffee on the 
 bridge in the heat of action in as quiet comfort as 
 though he had been on his summer porch at home. 
 " Men tired, and ship a little scratched," said Cap- 
 tain Dyer of the Baltimore. " Everything all right, 
 and ready to resume business at a moment's notice," 
 declared Commander Walker of the Concord. " Poor 
 Randall died from heart failure as we were passing 
 
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEN 283 
 
 Corregidor, but that is the extent of our casualties," 
 remarked Captain Hodgson, of the McCullough ; 
 Randall was chief engineer of the revenue cutter. 
 
 For three hours the fleet drifted about the waters 
 of the bay, resting; the sailors cleaning up the marks 
 of battle and making ready to renew it. The story 
 about the ammunition was proven false ; there was 
 plenty left. Meanwhile, on the Spanish ships, there 
 was a tremendous hubbub. Three of them were in 
 flames ; the others little better than wrecks. The 
 Spaniards rushed up and down their decks, trying to 
 patch up the damages they had received. Guns 
 were dismounted and cluttered with wreckage torn 
 loose by the American shots. Dead bodies lay 
 about ; blood oozed through the scuppers. The cries 
 and screams of the wounded came to the ears of the 
 Americans, quietly at breakfast in the bay. 
 
 In three hours they returned to complete the order 
 that had come over land and under seas from Wash- 
 ington. The Baltimore, in the lead this time, picked 
 up Sangley Point battery, silenced it in a few rounds, 
 and bore in upon the Reina Christina^ now little bet- 
 ter than a wreck, and afire. A few shots and she 
 blew up, the fire having crept to her magazine. 
 
 The Concord ran in to destroy a transport, which 
 took fire in a few minutes and was abandoned by the 
 soldiers on her. A shell from the Raleigh in the 
 magazine of the Austria, which was receiving the 
 fire of two or three of the Americans, disposed of 
 that vessel. The Concord made an end of the Gen- 
 
284 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 eral Lezo. The Baltimore and Concord^ turning 
 their attention to the Castilla, soon had her afire. 
 Her men opened the sea cocks to let in the water, 
 hoping the flames would not reach the ammunition 
 rooms. Only the Don Antonio de Ulloa was left. 
 She fought madly, with all her companions lying 
 about, flaming wrecks, or sunk in the shoal water ; 
 their upper works above the waves marking where 
 they had gone down. The fight was hopeless ; it 
 was worse than hopeless. The Ulloa was a com- 
 plete wreck, battered and torn by the merciless hail 
 of steel that bore upon her from the American guns. 
 The Petrel, running into the bay behind Cavite in 
 chase of three small gunboats that were endeavoring 
 to escape, destroyed them, and five other smaller 
 craft she found. At half-past twelve, an hour after 
 the second round had begun, not a Spanish flag was 
 flying in the bay except one on the staff of the Don 
 Antonio de Ulloa. The Isla de Cuba, on which 
 Montojo had taken refuge, was a wreck. Not a gun 
 was in commission ; not a man was on her decks. 
 Sadly the brave Montojo hauled down his flag and 
 went ashore, making his way to Manila through the 
 crowd of sightseers that had come to witness the 
 destruction of the "Yankee pigs." 
 
 The fight was won. The order flashed around 
 the world had been carried out. The Maine had 
 been avenged. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 " VALIENTE " 
 
 On the afternoon of May 29, 1898, the armored 
 cruiser Neiu York, Admiral Sampson's flag-ship, lay 
 at Key West, coaling. Clinging all along her war- 
 painted sides were dirty, grimy little lighters. The 
 air was full of coal dust ; the ship was a mess from 
 stem to stern. There was a great racket of buckets 
 and hoists and donkey engines and shouting of men. 
 The Nezv York was coaling in a hurry. So was the 
 Oregon, that had just arrived from its race around 
 the Horn. 
 
 Something had happened in Cuban waters. For 
 a long time the entire American squadron had been 
 on the jump, looking for the Spanish fleet under 
 Admiral Cervera, which had left Spain and was ex- 
 pected anywhere and everywhere. Wild rumors 
 had been running up and down the sea and land ; 
 no one knew where the Spaniards were, or where 
 they were going. 
 
 Then news had reached Admiral Sampson, who 
 was in and out of the passages through the Bahama 
 Islands, that Cervera had slipped around to the east 
 of Cuba and had run into the harbor of Santiago, on 
 the south coast. Commodore Schley was in com- 
 mand in those waters. Admiral Sampson sent the 
 
286 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 New Orleans down to Santiago to help Schley hold 
 the Spanish fleet, and went piling through the sea 
 to Key West to coal. 
 
 In the midst of the fuss and dust and racket of the 
 coaling, some one was having a quiet talk with Ad- 
 miral Sampson. He was a quiet young man in the 
 uniform of a lieutenant of the United States Navy. 
 He was tall and slender. His neck was long. His 
 eyes, rather deep in his head, gazed on the face of 
 Admiral Sampson without a quaver. They were 
 sober, serious eyes ; it was hard to think of them as 
 smiling. 
 
 The name of the young man was Richmond Pear- 
 son Hobson. He was an instructor of construction 
 in the naval academy at Annapolis. He knew much 
 about building ships. He was trying to interest Ad- 
 miral Sampson in a scheme for the building of some 
 unsinkable ships to be used in the reduction of the 
 defenses of Havana harbor. 
 
 " It is not a question of an unsinkable boat, but of 
 a sinkable," said the admiral. 
 
 The quiet young man waited for the admiral to 
 make his meaning clear. The harbor of Santiago 
 is a flask with a crooked neck. The city is at the 
 large part of the flask, and the neck of it gives into 
 the sea. The neck is slim and crooked and lined 
 with high, jungle-covered banks. One wall of the 
 harbor entrance is a cliff, capped by Morro Castle. 
 Twisting through the crooked neck is a thin ship- 
 channel. Admiral Sampson wanted to put a stop- 
 
VALIENTE" 287 
 
 per in the bottle and leave the Spanish flies to buzz 
 while he went about his own affairs with the fleet. 
 He wanted to make it impossible for Cervera to get 
 out, so that the entire American naval force would 
 not be needed to watch him. It was out of the 
 question to enter the harbor and annihilate the 
 Spaniards, as Dewey had done at Manila. The 
 batteries that lined the neck of the bottle would blow 
 out of the water any vessel that tried that ; or, if the 
 guns failed to destroy it, the mines would complete 
 the work. 
 
 " What we want is a vessel that will sink in the 
 channel rapidly, and block it up," repeated Admiral 
 Sampson, when he had outlined the situation. 
 
 That was the beginning of it all. 
 
 Two days later the iron collier Merrimac, off the 
 harbor of Santiago, was aswarm with crowds of busy 
 men. Hobson was going to sink her in the channel 
 and shut up the Spanish fleet. The thing had been 
 arranged to the least detail by the tall young lieu- 
 tenant with the deep-set eyes that had no lurk of a 
 smile in them. He would take the collier in under 
 the guns of the batteries, ride her to where the chan- 
 nel was narrowest, twist her across it with helm and 
 anchor, blow her sides in with torpedoes, and hold 
 her there until she sank to the bottom. He would 
 do it all with only six men to help him. 
 
 Think what it meant to do that. No one knew 
 how many batteries lined the neck of the bottle, or 
 how many mines lay along its bottom. Somewhere 
 
288 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 inside was the Spanish fleet, with ready guns, lying 
 in wait. The Merrhnac would be laced back and 
 forth by crossing ribbons of steel. There could be 
 no doubt about it. Of course, they would try to 
 steal in early on Thursday morning, before the 
 moon went down and the sun came up, but they 
 would be discovered and fired upon long before 
 they could reach the place where Lieutenant Hobson 
 had decided he would sink the Merrimac. 
 
 With all this fire sheeting across the channel, how 
 could those in the collier expect to get as far up the 
 channel as they would have to get if their stopper 
 was to do any good? How could they expect to 
 live from one minute to another before the blast of 
 screaming steel? And if they should get to the 
 spot they wished to reach, and sink the boat, what 
 chance would they have to get away alive? Hobson 
 had arranged for a return, but no one thought much 
 about that part of the plan. The men who were go- 
 ing in the Merrimac were not figuring on how they 
 were going to get back. 
 
 Here is something splendid ; here is something 
 that makes one glad he is an American ! Almost 
 without exception, all the men in the fleet wanted to 
 go in the Merrimac when it was known what was to 
 be done. Ships' crews volunteered bodily. They 
 clamored to be taken, they argued, they pleaded, 
 they offered months' pay for an exchange with those 
 who had been chosen. Strange, isn't it, when they 
 had small reason to hope that they would come back 
 
VALIENTE" 289 
 
 alive ? Strange ; but you yourself would have done 
 the same thing. 
 
 These six men were picked out : Phillips, a ma- 
 chinist on the Merrimac ; Kelly, a water-tender on 
 the Merrimac; Deignan, quartermaster on the 
 Merrimac ; Charette, from the Neiv York, who had 
 been with Hobson when the latter was a midship- 
 man on the Chicago ; Montague, chief master-at- 
 arms on the Nezv York, and Mullen, boatswain of 
 the Nezv York. Mullen did not go — but that be- 
 longs to another part of the story. 
 
 All day Wednesday men swarmed in and about 
 the Merrimac. There was a great deal to be done, 
 and it must be done before midnight, for they were 
 going to run her in in the early morning of Thurs- 
 day. They had to arrange ten torpedoes along her 
 outside, ten or twelve feet below the water. The 
 torpedoes were already made ; charges of brown 
 powder for the eight-inch guns, enclosed in metal 
 cylinders and made water-proof. These torpedoes 
 had to be connected by wires with firing batteries, 
 each torpedo to have its own battery and wires. 
 The wires were arranged so that the torpedoes could 
 be fired from the deck, one at a time. The torpedoes 
 were fastened to the side of the vessel by two ropes, 
 one of them running about the vessel from prow to 
 stern, and the other crossing around her, under her 
 keel and over her deck. Belt lines and hogging 
 lines, they were called. 
 
 That was only part of what must be done before 
 
290 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 they could run her in. They had to arrange anchors 
 at bow and stern to stop her when they had brought 
 her to the right place. That was a hard thing to do. 
 Hobson figured that she would be running four or 
 five knots by the time they wanted to let go their 
 anchors. That would put too much of a pull on the 
 anchor chains ; a vessel of seven thousand tons go- 
 ing five knots has a bit of a yank in its nose. So 
 they had to arrange to take care of that yank. 
 
 To begin with, they roused all the chain out of 
 the chain locker and laid it on deck. Then they 
 got a long, new, heavy manilla hawser and made 
 one end fast. At intervals along this hawser they 
 fastened smaller manilla ropes, and bent the ends of 
 these smaller ropes to the anchor chain at distances 
 of five fathoms. When the anchor should be let go 
 and begin to draw up on the chain, the pull would 
 come on the smaller hawsers, which would stretch, 
 resist, and then break. Each one stretching and 
 breaking in succession would stop the headway of 
 the boat a little ; by the time the last one had been 
 broken she would be so much slowed down that the 
 anchor chain would probably not snap. 
 
 It was very important that the anchor chains 
 should hold. Everything depended on them. They 
 figured in the plan to hold the boat in the proper 
 position while the torpedoes sank her. At a certain 
 point in the channel Hobson was going to throw the 
 Merrimad s helm to port, which would make her 
 turn to the right. Then he was going to let the bow 
 
"VALIENTE" 291 
 
 anchor go from the starboard side. That would jerk 
 her around still more to the right. At the same 
 time, the torpedoes were to be fired. When she 
 should be half turned across the channel, another 
 anchor was to be let go from the stern on the right 
 or starboard side, with just enough chain to bring 
 the stern to a standstill at the same time that the 
 bow anchor had held her forward. She would then 
 be lying across the channel at the narrowest place, 
 and there she would sink. You can see how im- 
 portant the anchors were. 
 
 They had much trouble arranging the chains and 
 anchors ; especially the anchor for the stern. They 
 could not get aft the large one that they expected to 
 use, and had to splice two smaller ones together. 
 It took all the men aboard ship to drag the huge 
 chain out of the chain locker and get it to the star- 
 board quarter. 
 
 All through the hot day Wednesday and far into 
 the night the work went on. Lieutenant Crank, 
 assistant engineer of the Merrimac, was down in the 
 engine room getting the engine and boilers ready so 
 that it would not be necessary to do any stoking as 
 the ship ran in. The sea connections were fixed so 
 that they could be thrown open to admit the sea at 
 the proper time. At last, long after midnight, every- 
 thing was ready. Admiral Sampson came on board 
 to inspect, returned to the flag-ship, and the Merri- 
 mac, getting under way, swung into the course for 
 the harbor. The moon was still an hour in the sky. 
 
292 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 The men who were going had been working 
 without eating or sleeping since early on Wednes- 
 day, under the strain of a race against time. They 
 had passed through the last stages of physical 
 fatigue, and were going now on sheer excitement 
 and nerve force. They had got their second wind. 
 
 Slowly the doomed vessel picked up her way 
 toward the entrance to the harbor. The dull mass 
 of the mountains that came down to the water 
 about it could be faintly made out in the half light 
 of the failing moon. The men were at their posi- 
 tions, keyed up for the final moment. They were 
 stripped to their underclothes. Each had on a belt 
 carrying a revolver and cartridges. That was the 
 uniform for the occasion. 
 
 As they were getting nearer and nearer the head- 
 land that marked the entrance the torpedo-boat 
 Porter came fuming and burring up with an order 
 from the admiral that the Merrimac should return. 
 It was too late ; sunrise would be upon them and the 
 light would be fatal. Hobson pleaded but the 
 order was not changed. Slowly, sadly, they swung 
 the head of the collier back and crept off to the 
 blockading fleet. 
 
 The spell was broken. The men, strung to the 
 highest tension, gave way and crumpled up. Some 
 of them had worked for twenty-four hours without 
 rest or food. Deignan, quartermaster at the wheel, 
 sat down and went to sleep, Mullen was so ex- 
 hausted that he could not rest. He had to be 
 
VALIENTE" 293 
 
 ordered back to the Neiv York to save him from 
 going to pieces under the physical strain. That was 
 why he did not go. He had worked harder than 
 any one else, and with more responsibility. 
 
 Thursday was a weary day for them all. When 
 you have made plans to go out and meet death half- 
 way, you like to be about it and have it over with. 
 They kept thinking throughout the day. If they 
 had been permitted to go, they would by this time 
 have known what was going to happen. They 
 wanted very much to know what was going to hap- 
 pen ; not so much whether they were going to die 
 or not, but whether they were going to succeed in 
 getting the cork properly into the neck of the bottle 
 before they died. 
 
 But the longest day must come to an end, and 
 midnight whirled around again. The moon came 
 out clear ; the heat of the day was gone, and the sea 
 stretched sleepily under the tropic sky. Here and 
 there the black hulking shadow of the blockading 
 ships rested on the surface of the sea. Everything 
 was quiet and serene ; there was no light but the 
 light of the moon. 
 
 Half-past one in the morning, and the Merrimac 
 was standing in close to the entrance of Santiago 
 harbor. A group of men in their underclothes, with 
 life-buoys and revolvers belted to them, crouched on 
 the bridge over a bucket of hot cofTee that Charette 
 had brought up from the engine room. Mullen was 
 not there ; his place had been taken by Murphy, a 
 
294 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 coxswain from the Iowa. Another man, Clausen, 
 coxswain of the New York! s barge, was also added 
 to the crew at the last minute. 
 
 The meal finished, the men went to their stations. 
 Deignan steered. Murphy stood by the bow anchor. 
 After letting that go, he was to fire torpedo number 
 one. Charette, who was on the bridge with Hobson, 
 was to fire torpedoes two and three, after one had 
 gone. Deignan, putting the helm hard aport to 
 bring the Merrimac across the channel, was to run 
 down and fire number four. Clausen was the man 
 to handle number five. Phillips and Kelly, down in 
 the engine room, were to stop the engine on signal, 
 open the sea valves, and then go on deck to fire six 
 and eight. The raw ends of the firing wires lay 
 ready on the deck. Montague was to stand by to 
 let go the stern anchor. 
 
 They had taken some care for their own safety ; 
 they would win back to the squadron if they could. 
 A life-boat had been filled with arms and hung over- 
 side from a cargo boom. The men were to gather 
 in the gangway, behind the bulwarks, opposite the 
 life-boat, after they had tended to their duties, and 
 await the order to get in. Hobson planned to have 
 them get in as the Merrimac was sinking. They 
 would cut the rope that held them to the cargo boom, 
 and fioat off. 
 
 A catamaran life raft also was on deck. If the 
 life-boat should be destroyed, they would make use 
 of that. There was a cave under the cliff that the 
 
"VALIENTE" 295 
 
 Morro was on. They arranged to meet in the cave 
 after the sinking of the ship. Lieutenant Powell, in 
 the New York' s launch, said that he would run in 
 there and pick them up. If he was not able to do 
 that, they would wait there until some chance came 
 of getting to the squadron. 
 
 The moon was still an hour and a half high in the 
 sky when the Merrimac steered in for the Morro. 
 Ahead could be seen the dark masses of the moun- 
 tains of Cuba, their outlines all run together in the 
 faint light and distance. Everything was quiet and 
 peaceful afloat and ashore. The blockading squad- 
 ron was miles behind. The Merrimac, except for 
 the tiny little launch that busied about in its wake, 
 was alone on the sea. 
 
 As they headed in for the Morro they found that 
 the Merrimac was sailing directly down the moon 
 track. She was put to the southward to avoid that 
 exposed position. The Morro began to show white 
 on the top of the clifl where it was perched ; its out- 
 lines came out in the night glass. 
 
 They were two thousand yards from the entrance. 
 No further use in trying to sneak in and surprise the 
 Spaniards. They must have seen the vessel by this 
 time, and wondered what it was up to. Now for a 
 dash ! 
 
 " Full speed ahead I " the signal went to the engine 
 room. Kelly and Phillips gave her all she could 
 take, and the doomed vessel drove through the 
 water. 
 
296 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Steady astarboard ! " 
 
 *• Steady astarboard, sir," and the vessel turned on 
 her rudder Hke a thing that knew. 
 
 The foam began to fly from the anchors, hung 
 over the side and trailing in the water. The sound 
 of the plashing bow-waves quickened and rose, as 
 the bow swung around to the northward and west- 
 ward to head for the course in. 
 
 " Meet her I" was the order, 
 
 '• Meet her, sir," came Deignan's response. 
 
 "Steady!" 
 
 "Steady, sir." 
 
 They were on the course for entering. 
 
 Charette was sent below to tell Phillips and Kelly 
 that they were on the final run, and that the next 
 signal would be for them to stop the engines, open 
 the sea valves, and lay down to their torpedoes on 
 deck. Both were directed to put on their life-pre- 
 servers and revolvers, with cartridge belts, before 
 leaving the engine room. 
 
 Now they were putting Morro ofi their bows to 
 starboard, and dragging her farther and farther 
 abeam as they pounded through the gray swells 
 toward the entrance. The neck of the bottle was be- 
 ginning to open up. The tall young man on the 
 bridge, with the eyes that did not smile, could see 
 through the night glass the walls and windows of 
 Morro. 
 
 " Nothing to the westward," said the tall young 
 man. 
 
"VALIENTE" 297 
 
 " Nothing to the westward, sir," from Deignan. 
 
 Morro bore northeast by north ; her high walls 
 were distinct in the gray and yellow light of the fail- 
 ing moon. How much longer would it be before the 
 Spaniards would begin to fire ? 
 
 " Port, sir." 
 
 •• Steady I " 
 
 " Steady, sir." 
 
 " Port a little ! " 
 
 " Port a little, sir." 
 
 Morro bore northeast. " Steady ! " 
 
 " Steady, sir." 
 
 "Head for the Morro!" 
 
 " Head for the Morro, sir." 
 
 The night glasses picked up Estrella. The tall 
 young man wanted to find Estrella ; it was a land- 
 mark. " Can you make out the white spot to the 
 left of Morro ?" asked Hobson. 
 
 "Yes, sir," from Deignan. 
 
 " That is Estrella. Steer for Estrella." 
 
 " Steer for Estrella, sir." 
 
 There was a battery there ; perhaps two. 
 
 A swell was running into the neck of the bottle. 
 It might yaw the Merrimac to port. " Watch the 
 helm ! " warned Lieutenant Hobson. 
 
 " Watch the helm, sir," echoed Deignan, 
 
 " Do not let her yaw, but use only a gentle helm." 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir." 
 
 Deignan was thinking of nothing but of his helm ; 
 
298 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 the Merrimac was sliding into the narrow channel as 
 truly as though she was a crack yacht. Morro 
 lifted high in the sky, and the west side of the en- 
 trance began to break into view through the dim 
 light. On the top of the west side was a bald spot. 
 It was another battery. There were enough batter- 
 ies to keep out a fleet. 
 
 Five hundred yards from the entrance I Why 
 didn't the Spaniards let fly at them? They must 
 have seen the Merrimac for a long time now. 
 
 Lieutenant Hobson, casting a quick eye about, 
 saw that all was well. Let them fire if they would ; 
 the Merrimac had enough headway on her now to 
 bring her in. And as soon as she got a little 
 farther, the flowing tide would help. Nothing could 
 keep the stopper out of the neck of the bottle. It 
 only remained for him to sink the vessel in the right 
 place. 
 
 A flash close to the water at the western side of 
 the opening, opposite the Morro ! Every one braced 
 himself for the crash of steel against the ship ; but 
 there was no crash. Another flash ; another miss. 
 It was hard to believe that even a Spaniard could 
 not hit such a target at such a range. 
 
 Lieutenant Hobson turned his night glass to the 
 spot whence the flashes came. It was a picket boat, 
 mounting rapid fire guns. He watched another 
 flash, and in the instant understood what they were 
 trying to do. The shot passed astern ; they were 
 aiming at the Merrimad s rudder ! 
 
"VALIENTE" 299 
 
 A storm of helpless rage arose in the bosom of 
 the quiet young man whose eyes did not often smile. 
 They would have to go within a boat's length of the 
 pilot-boat, with its rapid fire guns feeling around for 
 the Merrwiad s rudder. Nothing could be done. If 
 there had been even one rapid fire gun aboard the 
 collier there would have been a chance to silence the 
 pilot fellow. They could do nothing but submit to 
 the rough handling. If the enemy should succeed 
 in disabling the rudder, the expedition would fail. 
 All their heart-breaking work of the past two days, 
 the destruction of the steamer, the possible loss of 
 their own lives, would be for naught. The thought 
 was maddening. Meanwhile, the rapid fire guns on 
 the pilot-boat were barking and spitting as rapidly 
 as they were able. Lieutenant Hobson winced with 
 every shot, listening for the crash of the projectile 
 against the priceless structure of the rudder's parts. 
 
 But the pilot-boat punching out in the dark at his 
 rudder did not prevent him from keeping those deep- 
 set eyes on the Morro rock. Presently he was satis- 
 fied ; he could see where the cliff broke off sheer into 
 the water. The channel washed the rock at that 
 point. 
 
 " A touch of port helm," he said, and waited to 
 see whether the vessel responded after the attention his 
 rudder had had at the hands of the rapid fire guns. 
 
 "A touch of port helm, sir," repeated Deignan, 
 and the Merrmiac slowly, softly turned toward the 
 rock of the Morro. The gear still worked. 
 
300 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Steady 1" 
 
 " Steady, sir." 
 
 Now, even without helm, she would pass down 
 the channel. The young man on the bridge was 
 not now so furious against the pilot-boat, and began 
 to realize what a brave show the tiny craft had made. 
 At the moment when she had opened fire on the 
 Merrimac, she did not know that it was not a battle- 
 ship she was assailing ; she could not be sure that 
 one answering fire from the thing she was striking 
 out at would not annihilate her. 
 
 A crash from the port side ; a blast of sharp noise. 
 " The western battery has opened on us, sir," called 
 Charette, who was standing on the bridge ready to 
 run with orders if the signal ropes should be des- 
 troyed. 
 
 " Very well ; pay no attention to it," replied Lieu- 
 tenant Hobson. Morro point required all of his 
 present attention. 
 
 You have walked down the street in melting 
 winter weather and seen the Eighth Grade crowd 
 packing snowballs on the corner opposite where you 
 had to pass. You have walked along as though you 
 did not see them ; as though the snowballs they 
 might throw at you would be nothing. And when 
 you got to a point where you could no longer watch 
 for them out of the tail of your eye, you have braced 
 yourself against the feel of the first blow from the 
 missiles. You probably hoped it would not take 
 you behind the ear. Now, imagine those snowballs 
 
"VALIENTE" 301 
 
 to have been two-, three-, four-, six-inch shells, any 
 one of which, taking you behind the ear, would put 
 an abrupt stop to all your private plans, and you can 
 see how hard it was for the men on the Merrimac to 
 " pay no attention to it." 
 
 But they did " pay no attention to it." Murphy, 
 lying flat on the forecastle head, with one hand on 
 the ax-helve, was ready to cut the lashings of the 
 anchor and fire the first torpedo. He had nothing 
 else on his mind than those two duties. The crew 
 of the Iowa had selected him from among them all 
 to represent the honor and courage of the lozva, and 
 he was going to do it. Charette stood at the end 
 of the bridge, watching everything, ready to be 
 handy man for the tall young lieutenant. Deignan 
 was minding his wheel as though he were entering a 
 peaceful harbor in broad day. Down in the engine 
 room Phillips and Kelly were tending to the engine, 
 and nothing else. The others, lying prone at their 
 posts, were waiting for their cues to set about their 
 work. 
 
 " Whir-r-r-r ! Cling ! ! " A shell sang its song 
 across the bridge, and brought up with a sharp 
 metallic ring against something. Lieutenant Hob- 
 son looked about to see what had happened. Deig- 
 nan and the binnacle were still there ; the engine- 
 room telegraph was still standing ; Charette was 
 over by the bridge rail, calm as a fisherman. Brave 
 chap, that Charette ! 
 
 The quiet young man stepped to the engine 
 
302 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 telegraph, and signaled " Stop 1 " The answer- 
 pointer turned to " Stop " and stayed there. The 
 wheel ceased its hissing in the water ; the pulse of 
 the engine died out of the huge frame of the 
 vessel. 
 
 " You may lay down to your torpedoes now, 
 Charette," said Lieutenant Hobson. 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir ; " and Charette went. 
 
 The Merrimac slipped under the sheer cliff that 
 was topped by the Morro. The rock shut off the 
 sky. They were close in. Suddenly a swell caught 
 the ship by the stern and swung her bow toward the 
 rock. 
 
 " Starboard ! " commanded Hobson, quickly. 
 
 " Starboard, sir." 
 
 Still she swung in, her nose creeping up toward 
 the rock. 
 
 " Starboard, I say ! " repeated Hobson. 
 
 " The helm's astarboard, sir." 
 
 Fifty, forty, thirty feet from the rock before the 
 helm took hold and swung the bow of the boat into 
 the course again. They were anxious moments. If 
 the steering gear was gone there was no chance for 
 them to carry out the plan. The vessel would sink, 
 but it would sink anywhere but in the right place. 
 
 " Meet her ! " as the Merrimac straightened out. 
 A thrill of joy shivered up his spine when he saw 
 her turn ; he knew the gear still stood. 
 
 " Meet her, sir." 
 
 All this time the fire from the Spanish batteries 
 
"VALIENTE" 303 
 
 was increasing. Spot after spot on the hillsides 
 burst into snarling fire ; the air was a-whistle with 
 projectiles ; there was a constant clank, clank, of 
 steel on steel as they found their target, and a crack- 
 ling racket of the wreck in the wake of the shells. 
 Projectiles were cutting through and across the 
 collier from three or four directions ; soon the Span- 
 ish war-ships would be in range. 
 
 Half a ship's length now would bring them to the 
 position where Hobson had determined to begin to 
 sink the craft. Half a ship's length more before the 
 helm would be put hard aport and the torpedoes 
 started in their work of destruction. Good thing 
 the Spaniards had not found the rudder with their 
 steel fingers ! 
 
 The sky opened behind the Morro. That was the 
 place. 
 
 " Hard aport i " said the quiet young man on the 
 bridge. It was the first order of the final manoeuver. 
 
 " Hard aport, sir," echoed Deignan. 
 
 The ship slid straight ahead, without response to 
 her helm. 
 
 " Hard aport, I say ! " repeated Hobson, sharply. 
 Perhaps Deignan, for the first time, had failed him. 
 
 " The helm is hard aport, sir, and lashed," Deignan 
 reported. 
 
 If that was true, the steering gear was surely gone. 
 For the Merrimac still bore straight down the chan- 
 nel, past the point where she must begin to turn 
 athwart it, if she was to do any good. 
 
304 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 " Very well, Deignan," said Lieutenant Hobson, 
 quietly ; " lay down to your torpedo." 
 
 Half a ship's length back the steering gear had 
 controlled the vessel I Now, in the supreme mo- 
 ment, when everything depended on it, it was gone. 
 And the huge vessel, with its 7,000 tons of dead 
 weight, was charging through the water at a rate of 
 four and three-quarter knots, with the tide sweeping 
 them another knot and a half. 
 
 There was just one slim chance that the manoeuver 
 could still be accomplished by the use of the anchors. 
 It was a very slim chance ; the anchors would be 
 doing more than could be expected of them if they 
 brought the ship to a standstill with all her headway 
 on her. But it was the only chance. 
 
 A pull on the cord that ran to Murphy's wrist. 
 Then three strong pulls. A splashing in the water 
 at the bow ; a rumbling run of chain, shivering the 
 ship as it payed out over the side. In another in- 
 stant, a shock, sharp and snappy, and a muffled 
 ring sounding above the blast of Spanish guns. 
 Torpedo number one had gone off ; there was a 
 great hole in the bow of the Merrimdc. 
 
 If the bow anchor chain, in breaking, as it must 
 break under the strain of the huge plunging ship, 
 should twist it a little in the channel, and the tor- 
 pedoes should blow holes large enough in the bot- 
 tom of her, there was still a chance that she would 
 sink in a place where she would do some good as a 
 stopper to the bottle. 
 
"VALIENTE" 305 
 
 But where were the other torpedoes ? It was time 
 for Charette to be firing two and three. It was past 
 time. " Fire all torpedoes ! " called Lieutenant Hob- 
 son. In the tumult of noise his voice was not heard. 
 
 Charette appeared on the bridge. " Number two 
 and three will not fire, sir," he said. " The battery 
 cells are shattered all over the deck." 
 
 The Socappa batteries had opened ; the din of 
 striking missiles was terrific. There was a constant 
 clanging clatter, like firecrackers set off by bunches 
 in a tin bucket, as the shells struck the ship. 
 
 "Very well," replied Lieutenant Hobson ; "lay 
 down and underrun all the others, beginning with 
 number four, and spring them as soon as possible." 
 
 Just then number five went off. Deignan had 
 waited for two and three, and when they had not 
 followed number one, he had tried four. But the 
 batteries for four were scattered about the deck. 
 Then he went down to Clausen at number five. Be- 
 tween them they got it off. 
 
 Everything was going wrong. The ship would 
 be a long time sinking, with only two torpedoes 
 fired. Still, if the anchors held there was a chance. 
 Lieutenant Hobson started aft to watch the letting 
 go of the stern anchor. It was a very important 
 operation now. 
 
 As he passed along the gangway he found the 
 men gathered together in the place where they had 
 agreed to meet, near the life-boat. Montague was 
 with them. The stern anchor, then, had been let go 
 
3o6 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 already. As a matter of fact, it had been shot free ; 
 the lashings had been cut by the fire from the Span- 
 ish guns and it had fallen into the water without the 
 aid of Montague. 
 
 Lieutenant Hobson looked over the bulwarks. 
 The air was whizzing full of steel, but he looked 
 over the bulwarks. Of course, whether he looked 
 over the bulwarks or hid behind them made little 
 difference to his safety. Any one of those steel 
 missiles that had started for him would not be turned 
 aside by the frail upper works of an iron collier. 
 But there is a good deal of the ostrich in all of us. 
 If we get where we cannot see actual danger, we 
 can more easily convince ourselves that it does not 
 exist. There is some comfort behind a bulwark, 
 after all. 
 
 But Hobson looked over the bulwark. He was 
 interested beyond everything in the question whether 
 the chains would hold or not. The Merrimac was 
 lying just in front of the Estrella battery, apparently 
 motionless, and about two-thirds athwart the chan- 
 nel. The quiet young man took a bearing of the 
 bow on the shore. For an instant the vessel seemed 
 to hold still, but in the next it could be seen to be 
 moving. 
 
 There was nothing to be done ; they could only 
 wait. The fire from the batteries, increased now by 
 the fire from the Spanish vessels up the harbor, 
 made every spot unsafe. They lay on the deck, be- 
 hind the bulwarks, trying not to be seen. If they 
 
"VALIENTE" 307 
 
 should be seen, they would draw the fire of half a 
 dozen guns, and their slim chance to escape with 
 their lives would be swept away. 
 
 Slowly the vessel swung out into the channel and 
 swept on with the tide. As she drifted, there was a 
 terrific thump from beneath ; she lifted and lurched. 
 A mine had been sprung. 
 
 " Lads, they are helping us I " cried the quiet 
 young man, seeing hope again. 
 
 The vessel was gradually settling in the water. 
 Shots were flying back and forth across her deck ; 
 the continuous crash of the firing guns was sprinkled 
 with the clink of steel on steel as the projectiles 
 found their mark. The men lay in a group behind 
 the starboard bulwark, wondering when one of those 
 projectiles would plough its way through them. 
 
 The Merrimac seemed to be stopping in her slow 
 drifting. Lieutenant Hobson, taking bearings, dis- 
 covered that her stern was aground on Estrella. If 
 she hung there long enough, the thing they had 
 come to do would be accomplished, in spite of every- 
 thing. 
 
 They settled down to plan for the time when the 
 vessel should have sunk. Useless to try to get over 
 the side. If they once showed themselves they 
 would draw all the fire of all the Spanish guns, and 
 the end would come soon. 
 
 Lieutenant Hobson issued an order that no man 
 should move until he had received further orders. 
 "We will wait here, lads, until the moon sets," he 
 
3o8 BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 said. " When it is dark we will go down tiie after- 
 hatch, to the coal, where her stern will be out of 
 water. Some of us will come up and get the rifles 
 and cartridges out of the boat. We will remain in- 
 side all day, and to-night at ebb-tide try to make 
 our way to the squadron. If the enemy comes on 
 board, we will remain quiet until he finds us, and 
 will repel him. If he then turns his artillery on the 
 place where we are, we will swim out to points farther 
 forward." 
 
 Those were the plans made when it seemed that 
 the Merrimac would sink with her stern fast on 
 Estrella point. 
 
 " Remain where you are, lads ; I am going to take 
 a turn to reconnoiter," Hobson added, when the 
 plans were understood. What he wanted to do was 
 to go forward and hoist the American flag, so that 
 it might be floating over the Merrimac when it 
 plunged under the waters of Santiago harbor. 
 
 Charette interposed. " Please do not do so, sir," 
 he said. " If you go they will see you and see us 
 all." Charette was not thinking about himself; he 
 was thinking about the quiet young man who had 
 brought them to this, and he knew the only way to 
 induce him not to expose himself was to put the 
 plea on the grounds of the safety of the men. Some- 
 times real heroism is hidden behind words like that. 
 
 Hobson abandoned his sentiment about raising 
 the flag, and lay down on the deck with the rest of 
 the men, to wait. The firing of the enemy was ap- 
 
•'VALIENTE" 309 
 
 palling. Guns of all caliber and kinds were potting 
 at them at the highest speed attainable. Two regi- 
 ments of infantry were on the shores of the bottle's 
 neck, with magazine rifles. The din was incessant, 
 and the rattle of missiles against the iron sides of 
 the stranded and sinking collier was like the rat-ta- 
 tat of a red-headed woodpecker on a tin cupola. 
 The deck of the vessel shook and trembled under 
 the blows of exploding shells. Great wonder that 
 the little group of men, lying face down in the 
 shadow of the bulwarks in the starboard gangway, 
 were not blown and torn to pieces. It was hard to 
 lie like that, waiting, but they did not offer to move, 
 any of them. Strange sight ! Seven men in their 
 underclothes with life belts and revolvers strapped 
 about them, lying on the deck of a sinking ship 
 under the sinking moon, with the hills about pop- 
 ping death at them. 
 
 Lieutenant Hobson, thrusting his head through a 
 chock in the bulwarks, perceived that the vessel was 
 moving again ; that it no longer hung on Estrella 
 point. The force of the tide had swept it into the 
 channel, and was straightening it out. It was al- 
 ready low in the water, but it was sinking so slowly 
 that there was no chance of bringing it to the bottom 
 in time to block the channel. Their work, their 
 worry, their risk, had been for nothing. 
 
 Slowly the Merrimac drifted up and up the channel 
 between the blasting fire from both sides and in 
 front. The moments were intense ; it was a race 
 
3IO BRAVE DEEDS OF AMERICAN SAILORS 
 
 between the tide that was sweeping the ship inward, 
 and the water that was creeping up in her hold. At 
 last she came to a stop in a bight behind Smith's 
 Cay, an island on the western edge of the botde's 
 neck. She lurched ; she jerked ; she bowed her 
 head, and plunged beneath the water. The stern 
 rose and heeled heavily ; then righted itself and went 
 under. 
 
 A great rush of water came up the gangway, 
 sweeping up the seven men. There was a spout- 
 ing, leaping, foaming, roaring tumult in the water. 
 It was full of floating debris ; spars, barrels, planks. 
 They charged end on against the men struggling in 
 the whirlpool. The men were tossed about in the 
 vortex. The life-preservers kept them afloat ; for a 
 time, until the whirl settled, they were helpless 
 against it. 
 
 They looked for the life-boat. It had been 
 wrenched away in the sinking of the ship and was 
 floating off somewhere beyond sight. The cata- 
 maran was the largest piece of floating wreckage. 
 It had been made fast to the deck with a rope, which 
 still held. It more than held ; it dragged one edge 
 of the catamaran slightly downward, so that the 
 other edge was lifted above the water. The men 
 gathered under this lifted edge, clinging with their 
 fingers to the float. 
 
 The firing had ceased as soon as the Merrimac 
 had begun to go down. In a short space, lights 
 began to appear on the surface of the water, and 
 
"VALIENTE" 311 
 
 boats came out to the scene of the wreck to pick up 
 survivors. The Spaniards thought they had sunk a 
 war-ship that had tried to steal in. 
 
 The Americans clung close beneath the shadow of 
 the catamaran. They were afraid that if they were 
 seen there they might be shot. No purpose now in 
 being shot. Perhaps, in the morning, they would 
 find a way to escape. In any event, they could sur- 
 render, and make sure of their lives. 
 
 It was a bitter hardship, to cling to that slippery, 
 floating thing until daybreak. The men had been 
 through much. But they clung, and in the morning 
 they were found there by a launch in which was Ad- 
 miral Cervera himself. How they were locked up as 
 prisoners in the Morro during a bombardment by 
 the American squadron ; how they were afterward 
 held as prisoners in the town of Santiago until the 
 Americans occupied it, and how they were received 
 at last as heroes in the fleet and by their country, is 
 another story. 
 
 But what Cervera said, under his breath, when he 
 learned what they had done, is a part of this story. 
 
 He said : " Valiente ! " 
 
 Which, you will see at once, is just like our word 
 valiant ; but in Spanish it means much more. And 
 it needs to mean much more to describe what those 
 men did in Santiago harbor on that morning in 
 June, 1898. 
 
SEP 28 1912 
 
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