“It is well that not only my own men, but the enemy, shall recognize me when I transfer my flag.”
Alec looked at the commodore in mute surprise, and for the moment I believed our commander had lost his head.
“The Niagara appears to be in good condition,” Perry said with a smile, “and it is from her deck that I will direct the battle to a glorious ending.”
I looked out over the waters, which were literally boiling and spouting under the falling shot, asking myself how it might be possible for the commodore to do as he had said, knowing full well that the Lawrence, wreck as she was, could not be manœuvred.
“Lieutenant Yarnall,” Perry said, turning to the first officer, who was bleeding from four or five wounds, with his face disfigured as I have already related, “I leave the Lawrence in your charge, with discretionary powers. Hold out, or surrender, as your judgment and the circumstances shall dictate. Have a boat lowered, and detail a full complement of oarsmen, if it so be that number of unwounded men be found aboard. Take down my pennant and the blue banner, for the remainder of the fleet shall fight under both until victory is brought out of this tangle.”
“Will you leave me here, Oliver?” Alec asked, when Lieutenant Yarnall had set about obeying the orders.
“You shall go with me, lad, for it is well we two remain together while it be possible.”
“And Richard?” the dear lad asked, noting the look of entreaty in my eyes.
“He had best stay here; we cannot take too many into such peril, for it will be no child’s play to pull through yonder storm of shot.”
“You need oarsmen, sir, and I question if enough can be found to man the boat, without taking every one from the brig,” I said quickly, distressed beyond measure at the thought that I might be separated from my comrade.