THE “WASP” RAKING THE “FROLIC”
As the gunners of the Wasp threw out their rammers the ends touched the enemy’s sides, and the muzzles of two 12-pounders went through the latter’s bow-ports and swept the deck’s length.
Jack Lange was an able American seaman who had once been impressed into the British service, and the excitement of the moment was too much for his feverish blood. Taking his cutlass in his teeth, he leaped atop a gun and laid hold of the enemy’s nettings.
“Come out of that, sir! Wait for orders!” roared Captain Jones, who wished to fire again.
But if Jack Lange heard he did not hesitate, and, despite the command, hauled himself alone over the bows. Some of the men left their guns at this and picked up pikes and boarding-axes.
Lieutenant Biddle glanced at his commander, the latter nodded grimly, and with a spring the lieutenant gained the hammock cloth and reached up for the ropes overhead. The vessels lurched and one of his feet caught in a tangle, from which he vainly tried to free himself.
Little Midshipman Baker, who was too short to make a reach of it, thought he saw his chance, and, laying hold of Lieutenant Biddle’s coat-tails in his eagerness, tried to swarm up his superior’s legs. The result was, however, that both fell back on the rail, and came within an ace of pitching overboard into the sea. Jumping up quickly, Lieutenant Biddle took advantage of a heave of the Wasp and scrambled over the enemy’s bowsprit on to the forecastle.
There stood Jack Lange, with his cutlass in his folded arms, gazing at a wondrous sight. Not a living soul was on the deck but a wounded man at the wheel and three officers huddled near the taffrail! But the colors were still whipping and snapping overhead, and, two or three more of the Wasp’s boarders tumbling on board, the little party, headed by Biddle, made their way aft. Immediately the officers, two of whom were wounded, threw down their swords, and one of them leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.
The young lieutenant jumped into the rigging and hauled down the flag. It was almost beyond belief that such carnage and complete destruction could have taken place in a time so short. But a small proportion of the crew had escaped. The wounded and dying lay everywhere, the berth-deck was crowded, and there were not enough of the living to minister to their comrades. H. M. S. Frolic was a charnel-ship.
The Wasp’s crew brought on board all their blankets, and the American surgeon’s mate was soon busy attending to the wounded.