The breeze had been freshening, and the Tigress rose on a wave at the instant the gun was discharged. This movement probably destroyed the aim, or the piece may not have been sighted as carefully; at all events, the missile fell ahead of the ship, and old Silas indulged in many an angry word because of his failure.
Alec and I did not give him an opportunity to remind us of duty again.
Instantly the ball struck the water we were at work with the sponges, and by the time the old man had finished shaking his fist at the enemy in impotent rage, the crew were engaged in reloading.
We had good cause for rejoicing, however, even though none of our people succeeded in sending a shot aboard the Britishers.
The increase in the weight of the wind brought down the wounded mizzenmast, and as it fell we saw go up on the Queen Charlotte signals which we soon learned was an order for the squadron to haul off.
Incredible though it may seem, the king’s fleet turned tail when there were but three small craft, carrying only as many guns, to oppose them, and in less than ten minutes from the time Silas Boyd opened the one-sided battle, every vessel flying the British flag was scudding toward the Canadian shore!
We had actually beaten off the squadron, any single craft of which should have been more than a match for our three little gunboats, and that without having received a scratch!
It was several moments before we could believe that this really was the case, and then what a volley of cheers went up!
We could even hear the people on shore as they yelled themselves hoarse over this bloodless victory, and I was so foolish as to fancy that Captain Perry would give chase at once, for the sense of triumph was so great I believed our poor schooners a match for the redcoats.
“Can it be that we are going back?” I asked, in dismay, when the Tigress’s head was turned toward the shore. “We have only to give them a few more shots in order to sink the whole fleet!”