Dacres here called out hurriedly,—
“I am pretty much hors de combat already. I have hardly men enough to work a single gun and my ship is in a sinking condition.”
“I wish to know, sir,” demanded Read peremptorily, “whether I am to consider you as a prisoner of war or as an enemy. I have no time for further parley.”
Dacres paused, and then said, brokenly, “I believe now there is no alternative. If I could fight longer I would with pleasure, but I—I must surrender.”
When Dacres went up the side of the “Constitution” to surrender his sword he was treated in the manner befitting his rank by a generous enemy. Captain Hull assisted him to the deck, saying, anxiously,—
“Dacres, give me your hand; I know you are hurt.” And when the Englishman extended his sword, hilt forward, in formal surrender, Hull said, magnanimously,—
“No, no; I will not have the sword of a man who knows so well how to use it. But”—and his eyes twinkled merrily—“but I’ll thank you for that hat.” He had not forgotten the wager, if Dacres had.
The transferring of prisoners was at once begun, for it was seen that the “Guerriere” was a hopeless hulk, not fit to take to port. When this was all completed and every article of value taken from her, she was blown up, and the “Constitution” sailed for Boston.
She arrived at an opportune time. For Detroit had been surrendered without firing a shot in its defence, and the American arms on the Canadian frontier had otherwise met with disastrous failure. The “Constitution,” gaily dressed in flags, came up the harbor amid the booming of cannon and the wildest of excitement among the people. A banquet was given to the officers in Faneuil Hall, and from that time the American navy gained a prestige at home it has never since lost. Congress voted a gold medal to Captain Hull, silver ones to the officers, and fifty thousand dollars as a bonus to the crew.
The statistics of the fight are as follows: