In those old days of sailing, given the weather-gage and the breeze that suited her best qualities, a handy vessel could boldly sail into view of a powerful fleet of the enemy, and she could actually present the tableau of an agile wolf following at the heels of a very angry herd of bulls, any one of which could toss her into the air or grind her under foot. So spry a sailer was the Wasp that she could slip away from even a towering seventy-four, given her best weather.
After a protracted and tedious stay in L’Orient, the little sloop made her way to sea on the 27th of August. On the 30th she captured the British brig Lettice, and on the next day the British brig Bon Accord.
The morning of the 1st of September dawned bright and clear. There was just the breeze that enabled the Wasp to show her finest form. Very early the lookout discovered a fleet of ten sail to the windward, away in advance. Plunging up and down lazily, scarcely moving in the light breeze, was a huge line-of-battle ship, and close to her was a bomb vessel.
The Yankee captain audaciously came down before the wind. In full sight of H. M. S. Armada, the seventy-four, and the other armed consort, Blakeley cut out the brig Mary. She was laden with brass and iron cannon and military stores from Gibraltar to England. As she was a slow sailer she was set on fire, after the prisoners had been removed.
Endeavor was made to take another of the convoy. The consternation and rage of the commander of the ship of line can well be imagined. There was not breeze enough for his great vessel to make headway by tacking, but the wind, changing a few points, enabled him to creep down towards the American, whereupon Blakeley swung about leisurely, and soon left the ponderous Englishman hull down.
When he had shaken off his pursuer he resumed his course, and at half-past six in the evening sighted four vessels at almost the same moment; two were to starboard and two off the larboard bow, the latter being farthest to windward. He picked out the nearest, a brig, and set all sail to come within gunshot of her.
At seven the chase commenced making signals with flags, and soon after with lanterns and rockets. It was past nine o’clock and quite dark when the Wasp came up within hailing distance.
To quote from a British account of the affair, dated Cork, September 7th: “The Englishman spoke first, and demanded to know who the silent on-comer was. The ‘Yankee,’ in reply,” says the account, “called through his trumpet, ‘Heave to, and I’ll let you know who I am.’ At the same time a gun was fired by the Avon, and the most sanguinary action commenced, which continued until eleven o’clock, when the American sheared off and said, ‘This is the Wasp.’” Then the British account, for some reason, adds: “She appeared to be in a sinking state and glad to get away.”
In Captain Blakeley’s letter to the Secretary of the Navy he mentions circumstances which may throw some light upon the actual happenings. After an hour’s sharp interchange of broadsides it was imagined that the Avon had struck, and orders were given to cease firing. Blakeley hailed, but received no answer. Suddenly the Britisher opened up with his guns again. It was twelve minutes past ten when he was hailed the second time. The enemy had suffered greatly, and had made no return to his last two broadsides. A cutter was lowered away, and as it was leaving the side of the Wasp to board the prize a second brig was discovered a little distance astern standing down before the freshening breeze. The crew were again sent to quarters, and everything was made ready for another action. A few minutes later the two other sail which had been off to windward were discovered also coming down towards the Wasp. The braces of the latter had been shot away, and it was necessary to keep off the wind until others might be rove. Blakeley did not endeavor to hasten. It was his intention to draw the second and foremost brig away from her companions and engage her as soon as they had reached a good distance from the others. To his surprise, however, the brig, which, from the English account, we make out to be the Castilian, hauled her wind as soon as she came within range, fired one broadside, and retraced her course to join her consorts, who were gathered about the Avon.
To Blakeley’s disappointment, he had to give up taking the prize, whose name and forces he did not know, as it had been impossible to distinguish the answer to his first hail.