Our commander was wearing no uniform; clad only in the garb of a common sailor, with blue nankeen jacket and white duck trousers, he was none the less a commodore, and there was not a Britisher so dull who would not have singled him out as the man who directed all our movements.
We advanced without opening fire until each vessel of our fleet was nearly in the position marked out for her the night previous, and then we set the signal to open the action.
The first gun on the American side came from the Scorpion, as I knew full well because of having my eyes on the schooner at the time; then the Ariel discharged two of her short twelves, and an instant later old Silas began his work.
This last shot struck the Detroit just above the water-line, plowing its way through her hull with a splintering of timbers which told that much damage had been done.
What a cheer went up from our men at this moment!
I think the fact that we had succeeded in sending a shot fairly home caused me to forget the danger, for certain it is I ceased to be afraid, and remained keenly on the alert for all that was passing around me.
I saw the schooner Trippe, outsailed in the advance, fully two miles astern, and wondered vaguely how long it might be before she would be near enough to give an account of herself.
The Scorpion and the Ariel remained near at hand, doing good work as I could see, viewing the scene like one in a dream, and I also understood that the enemy’s squadron was concentrating all its fire upon our brig.
It was as if to them there was no other vessel in the engagement save the one bearing our commodore’s flag, and that once she was disabled the victory would be won.
Within ten minutes after the first shot was fired I knew full well why the decks had been wetted and covered with sand.