In the opinion of nautical judges this was the best bit of cutting-out work on record, for Hull’s men were outnumbered three to one; and if he had not taken precautions, the battery could have blown him out of the water. But, alas and alack! all this daring and bravery went for worse than naught. Spain complained of the treatment she had received, and the United States government acknowledged that the capture was illegal, having taken place in a neutral port. The Sandwich was restored to her French owners, and, worst of all, every penny of the prize money due the Constitution’s officers and men for this cruise went to pay the damages.

Before the war of 1812, Hull distinguished himself by his fearlessness and self-reliance during the Tripolitan war. The two occasions that gave him renown during our struggle with Great Britain have been recorded at length, and there is but to set down that, after the conclusion of the war with Great Britain, Commodore Hull was in command at the various stations in the Pacific and the Mediterranean, and departed this life on the 13th of February, 1843. Of him John Frost writes, in 1844, “He was a glorious old commodore, with a soul full of all noble aspirations for his country’s honor—a splendid relic of a departed epoch of naval renown.”

III
THE “WASP” AND THE “FROLIC”
[October 18th, 1812]

Jacob Jones, of the United States Navy, was a native of Kent County, in the State of Delaware. He rose rapidly through the various grades of the service, attracting notice by his steadfastness and attention to duty, and in 1811 he was transferred to the command of the Wasp, a tidy sloop of war then mounting eighteen 24-pound carronades. She was a fast sailer, given any wind or weather.

In the spring of 1812, Captain Jones was despatched to England with communications to our minister at the Court of St. James. After fulfilling his mission he immediately set sail for America. The declaration of war between England and this country took place while the Wasp was on the high seas on her returning voyage; but as soon as he had landed, the news greeted her commander, and he was eager to put to sea again.

Captain Jacob Jones knew his ship, he knew his crew, and he rejoiced in having about him a set of young officers devoted to the service. Their names were James Biddle, George W. Rogers, Benjamin W. Broth, Henry B. Rapp, and Lieutenants Knight and Claxton, and they were soon destined to win laurels and glory for their country.

The first short cruise yielded no adventure of importance, but on the 13th of October the Wasp left the Delaware and two days later encountered a heavy gale, during which her jib-boom was unfortunately carried away and two of her people lost overboard. For some hours she was thrown about like a shuttlecock, and all hands were called time and again to shorten sail. The night of the 17th the sky cleared and the stars shone brightly. To Captain Jones’s surprise several sail were reported as being close at hand to the eastward. They were clearly seen through the night-glass to be large, and apparently armed. Jones stood straight for them, and gave orders to lay the same course that the strangers were then holding, and so they kept until dawn of the next day, which was a Sunday.

A heavy sea was running, and the Wasp, close-hauled, crept up to windward of the fleet that she had followed through the night. At the beginning of the early morning watch they were made out to be four large ships and two smaller vessels under a spread of canvas, all keeping close together.

But what was more interesting to the eager American crew was a sturdy sloop of war, a brig, that was edging up slowly into the wind, evidently guarding the six fleeing vessels to leeward—the sheep-dog of the flock.