At eleven the breeze began to freshen, and the seventy-four commenced to creep up slowly, and then gain all at once in a manner which caused Biddle to believe that the Englishman had made alterations in his trim. By noon the wind had shifted slightly, and was squally, with fresh breezes from the westward. It was Sunday, the 30th, but there was no service held. Gloom was everywhere throughout the American vessel: staring them in the face were apparently inevitable capture and the frightful confinement in an English prison. Many of the crew had already been impressed and had served in the English navy, escaping from time to time, and the idea of being held as deserters—deserters to a country that was not theirs—gave cause for much unhappiness. At 1 P.M. the Cornwallis was so close that her commander began to fire by divisions, and once let go his entire broadside loaded with round and grape. But, as is recorded in the journal, “the former passed between our masts and the latter fell all around us. The enemy fired shells, but they were so ill directed as to be perfectly harmless.” And now began what looked to be a work of destruction, and which was intended as such, no doubt. Biddle determined that if he were taken there would be very little for the enemy to show as trophy. Overboard went all the muskets, cutlasses, and ironwork. The bell was broken up, and the topgallant forecastle was chopped to pieces. All this time only three-quarters of a mile on the lee quarter was the great ship of the line pouring in a constant storm of shot and shell. The Yankee tars trimmed ship by massing themselves against the rail, after the fashion of a yacht’s crew.

At four o’clock a shot from the enemy struck the jib-boom, and another caught the starboard bulwark just forward of the gangway. A third smashed on the deck forward of the main-hatch, and, glancing up, passed through the foresail. It struck immediately over the head of a wounded Yankee sailor who had been hurt in the action with the Penguin; the splinters were scattered all around the invalid, and a small paper flag, the American ensign, that he had hoisted over his cot, was struck down. But immediately he lifted it up and waved it about his head. In fact, to quote again from the entry in the journal, “Destruction stared us in the face if we did not surrender, yet no officer, no man in the ship, showed any disposition to let the enemy have the poor little Hornet.”

Captain Biddle mustered the crew, and told them that, as they might soon be captured, he hoped to perceive that propriety of conduct that had distinguished them, and that he was pleased at being their commander. But now, as if by a miracle, the Hornet began to gain. The wind blew more aft, and by five the enemy’s shot fell short. Biddle had not replied even with his stern-chaser to all this cannonading, for he had noticed that the other’s firing hampered her sailing. At half-past five the crew broke out into a cheer, for the Cornwallis was dropping behind, slowly, but surely. Now Biddle showed his colors, and so fast did the Hornet pick up, with the wind in her favorite quarter for good going, that a few minutes after six the enemy was hull down. All night long the distance between the two increased, and at daylight the Cornwallis was fifteen miles behind. At nine o’clock she shortened sail, hauled upon the wind to the eastward, and gave up, after a chase of forty-two hours.

A remarkable circumstance of this affair is that, owing to the variableness of the wind, the Hornet had made a perfect circle around the battle-ship.

The relief occasioned to all by the escape was vented in cheering, and, extra grog being passed, the men were in extremely good temper, despite the fact of their precarious condition, for they were on the high seas with no guns, no boats, no anchors, and short of provisions. They had packed up all their things, thinking that they would soon have to go on board the enemy as prisoners, but now, joyfully, they returned them to their places.

In the fine writing of the period that every person who touched pen and ink seemed prone to, the author of the journal says: “This was truly a glorious victory over the horrors of banishment and the terrors of a British floating dungeon. Quick as thought, every face was changed from the gloom of despair to the highest smile of delight, and we began once more to breathe the sweets of liberty. The bitter sighs of regret were now changed.”

Biddle asked and obtained a court of inquiry to investigate the matter of his throwing overboard almost everything but the skin of his vessel, and on the 23d of August, 1815, by order of the Secretary of the Navy, court was convened on board the Hornet, and the following opinion was pronounced: “The court, after mature deliberation on the testimony adduced, are of opinion that no blame is imputable to Captain Biddle on account of the return of the Hornet into port with the loss of her armament, stores, etc., and that the greatest applause is due to him for his persevering gallantry and nautical skill, evinced in escaping, under the most disadvantageous circumstance, after a long and arduous chase by a British line-of-battle ship.”

The Cornwallis fired the last gunshot of the war of 1812.

Transcriber Notes

Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired.