When all this had been done and the ship's brig was literally packed with prisoners, Lieutenant McKnight, my cousin, was sent on board the Nereyda with a prize crew, and all three vessels (for the Nantucket skipper hung close to us, as if eager to take part in a fight) stood inshore to look into Coquimbo with the hope of finding there the Nimrod and her prizes.
I had almost forgotten to say that when the Nereyda was overhauled, our men found in the privateer's brig the master and crew of the captured ship Barclay. Of course they were brought on board the Essex, the officers being quartered aft, and the men messing with us of the gun-deck. A mighty happy crowd they were on finding themselves on an American man-of-war, after feeling certain they'd be sent to a Spanish prison.
From them we learned that there were no less than twenty-three Yankee whalers in the Pacific, and fully twenty Britishers, all of the last-named being heavily armed and on the lookout to capture our ships. The Englishmen were neglecting the fishery, so the newcomers told us, in order to catch a Yankee, and the Essex hadn't arrived an hour too soon. Surely, it seemed as if our misfortune in not meeting Commodore Bainbridge was a blessing in disguise.
Well, we didn't find in the harbor of Coquimbo that for which we were searching, and the captain of the Charles, disappointed in not getting an opportunity to take part in a scrimmage, hauled off to attend to the whales.
There was no reason why we should hold possession of the Peruvian, and good cause why we ought to give her up, for we were not at war with Spain; therefore, after our unsuccessful visit to Coquimbo, the two ships were hove to within a mile of each other, that Lieutenant Downes's fleet might gain more experience in handling their boats.
In the first place, all the privateer's ammunition, shot, small arms, and light sails were thrown overboard, which left that craft in such shape that she couldn't do much harm to anything except herself, and then her crew was sent on board once more. One of the marines told us that Captain Porter had made the officers of the Nereyda swear to deliver a letter to the viceroy of Peru as the price of their liberty, and in that letter our commander denounced the conduct of the privateer's captain, insisting that he be punished for having acted as a pirate.
Both Phil and I would like very much to know if that letter was ever delivered, and in case the officers kept their promise, what was done with them for having made prizes of vessels belonging to a nation with which Spain was not at war.
There was no need for any one to ask what our course would be after parting company with the Peruvian cruiser. Captain Porter would search for the captured Yankees, as a matter of fact; and the only question in the minds of us on the gun-deck was as to where he would look for them.
It goes without saying that our old shellbacks wagged their tongues furiously over this, and finally it was settled among them that the Essex must perforce cruise around the island of San Gallan. It was exactly this which our commander did, and those who had predicted it plumed their feathers mightily at showing so much seamanship.