No one was now left aboard the Richard but her dead. To them I gave the good old ship for their coffin, and in her they found a sublime sepulcher. She rolled heavily in the long swell, her gun-deck awash to the port-sills, settled slowly by the head, and sank peacefully in about forty fathoms. The ensign-gaff, shot away in action, had been fished and put in place, soon after firing ceased, and our torn and tattered flag was left flying when we abandoned her. As she plunged down by the head at the last, her taffrail momentarily rose in the air; so the very last vestige mortal eyes ever saw of the Bon Homme Richard was the defiant waving of her unconquered and unstricken flag as she went down. And as I had given them the good old ship for their sepulcher, I now bequeathed to my immortal dead the flag they had so desperately defended, for their winding sheet!
This is the story of the Portsmouth flag. At first its truth was accepted without a doubt; then it was seriously questioned. Within the last few years, new evidence in the shape of family tradition has strengthened its position.
CHAPTER VIII
FLAGS ONE WOULD HAVE LIKED TO SEE
Probably the flag made by the skillful fingers of Mrs. Elizabeth Griscom Ross was sewed with the tiniest of stitches imaginable; but it is absolutely certain that the flag which made its appearance August 3, 1777, at Fort Schuyler, afterwards Fort Stanwix, was not put together with any such daintiness of workmanship. For twenty days the little fort in the New York wilderness, where Rome now stands, was besieged by British and Indians. Reinforcements brought the news of the adoption of the new flag. The troops within the fort had no flag, and therefore, in true American fashion, they set to work to make one. There was not even a country store to draw upon for materials, so they made the best of what they had. As the story has been handed down, a white shirt provided the white stripes and the stars, and the petticoat of a soldier's wife the red stripes. As for the blue ground for the stars, it was cut from the cloak of Captain Abram Swartwout. The result was not very elegant, but it was a flag, and it was the flag, and the besieged men were as proud of it and stood for it as bravely as if it had been made of damask with the daintiest of needlework. August 22, 1777, the fort was relieved, and after a few days Captain Swartwout began to be anxious about his blue cloak. Colonel Peter Gansevoort, who commanded the fort, had promised him a new one to take the place of the one which he had sacrificed for the flag, but it had not arrived. Seven days he waited. At the end of the seventh day he sent a note from Poughkeepsie, where he then was, back to the fort, saying: "You may Remember Agreeable to Your promise, I was to have an Order for Eight Yards of Broad-Cloath, on the Commissary for Cloathing of this State In Lieu of my Blue Cloak, which we Used for Coulours at Fort Schuyler. An opportunity Now presenting itself, I beg You to send me an Order." Broadcloth was broadcloth in those days, and a "Blue Cloak" was not so easily obtained. It is no wonder he wrote it with capitals. It is to be hoped that the good captain received his order; but it must have been a very large cloak to require eight yards of "Broad-Cloath."
Another interesting banner was that borne by Count Pulaski, a gallant Pole, who came to help in the struggle for freedom. He visited Lafayette when the Frenchman was wounded and in the care of the Moravian Sisterhood in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The embroidery of these Sisters was very beautiful, and Pulaski engaged them to make him a banner, which they did. On one side were the letters "U.S.," and on the other the thirteen stars in a circle, surrounding an eye which is rather uncomfortably set in a triangle. They made a mistake in spelling their Latin motto, but the crimson banner, with its silver fringe and its exquisite embroidery, was very handsome. Longfellow's poem about this banner, "Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem," is excellent poetry, but hardly accurate history. It is quite probable that the good women sent the banner forth with their blessing, but it is rather doubtful whether they said anything like the following:—
"Take thy banner, and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,