For fifteen minutes it was hammer and tongs. Broadside after broadside was exchanged, and then it was noticed that the English had begun to slacken their return; and now they suddenly were silent. A strange phenomenon here took place. As all the combatants were close-hauled and the wind was light, a great bank of opaque sulphurous smoke had gathered all about them. The Constitution ceased firing, also; for although the enemy was within two hundred yards' distance, not a sight of either ship could be seen. They were blotted out; their condition and their exact positions were unknown. Not a gun was fired for three minutes, and then the smoke cleared away.
"Here they are!" cried Stewart, and his exclamation was drowned with a broadside, for the gunners of the Constitution had discovered that the headmost ship was just abreast of them and but a hundred feet away. The sternmost was luffing up with the intention of reaching the Constitution's quarter. The smoke from the big guns had hidden everything again, but orders were now coming fast from the quarter-deck. Men were hastening aloft, and others were tailing on to the braces, tacks, and sheets. The main and mizzen top-sails were braced aback against the mast, and slowly the Constitution began to move stern foremost through the water. It was as if nowadays the order had come to reverse the engines at full speed. All the sailors saw the importance of this act. They were cheering now, and they had good right to do so. Instead of finding herself on the larboard side and in good position for raking, the English vessel was in a very bad position. It must have astonished her commander to find himself so unexpectedly confronted, but he was directly beneath the Constitution's guns again. There was no help for it. He was forced to receive her fire. The big sloop of war, which had been deserted so unceremoniously, kept on making a great hubbub, aiming at the place where she supposed the Yankee frigate yet to be.
To repeat all the details of the rest of the struggle would be but to recount a tale filled with the detailed working of a ship and nautical expressions, but it is safe to state that never was a vessel better handled, and never did a captain win a title more honestly than did Charles Stewart the sobriquet of "Fighting Stewart."
It was ten minutes of seven in the evening when the first English vessel struck her flag. She proved to be His Britannic Majesty's sloop of war Cyane, under the command of Captain Gordon Falcon, a gallant officer, and one who had earned distinction in the service. His ship, that he had fought bravely, mounted thirty-four guns. He was so overcome with emotion at having to surrender, that he could scarcely return Captain Stewart's greeting when he came on board, for he had entered the fight declaring that he was going to receive the Yankee's sword. As soon as he had placed a prize crew on board the Cyane, Stewart headed the Constitution for the other sloop of war, who was doing her best to get away. So fast did he overhaul her that the Levant—for that was her name—turned back to meet her big opponent, and bravely prepared to fight it out. But it was no use, and after some firing and manœuvring Captain George Douglass struck his colors, as his friend Falcon had been forced to do some time earlier.
But what of old Renwick and the boy? They lay below in the cockpit—the old man with a shattered leg and the hero of the royal yard with a bad splinter wound across his chest. Men forget their wounds in moments of great mental excitement; since he had been brought below, the quartermaster had been following every movement of the ship as if he had been on deck.
"We are luffing up," he would say. "Ah! there we go, we headed her that time! By tar, my hearties, we will win the day! Hark to 'em! Hear 'em bark!" And so he kept it up, regardless of the fact that his shattered leg was soon to be taken off; and all of the thirteen wounded men there under the surgeon's care listened to him, and when the news came down that the first vessel had struck, Renwick called for cheers, and they were given this time with a will!
"A discussion that grew more heated every moment."
Three or four days after the fight, Captain Stewart was dining in his cabin, and as usual his guests were the English captains, who had not yet entirely recovered from the deep chagrin incident to their surrender. How it started, no one exactly knew. It is not on record which of the gentlemen was at fault for the beginning of the quarrel, but they were fighting their battles over again in a discussion that grew more heated every moment. Suddenly one of the officers, jumping to his feet, accused the other of being responsible for what he termed "the unfortunate conclusion of the whole affair." Hot words were exchanged. Stewart, who, of course, had his own opinions on the matter in question, said nothing, until at last he perceived that things might be going too far, and it was time for him to interfere. Smiling blandly, and looking from one of the angry men to the other, he spoke as follows:—
"Gentlemen, there is only one way that I see, to decide this question,—to put you both on your ships again, give you back your crews, and try it over."