The next day the Carnation hauled in alongside and opened her broadsides on the privateer. Reid, still grimly clinging to his vessel, returned the fire, and in a short time so cut up his antagonist that he hauled off to repair. That little brig, half a wreck, lying under the walls of the castle fighting that hopeless gallant battle, vindicating her rights against such fearful odds, with none who dare help her, presented a sublime spectacle.
At length his guns being dismounted, Captain Reid ordered his men to cut away the masts of the ship, blow a hole through her bottom, and taking out their arms and clothing, go ashore. Soon after the British advanced and set her on fire. Van Lloyd then made a demand on the Governor for Captain Reid and his crew, threatening in case of refusal to send an armed force and take them. Fearing that the Governor would not be able to prevent their arrest, this gallant band retired to an old convent, knocked away the drawbridge, determined to defend themselves to the last. The English commander had no desire to place his crews again under the deadly aim of those daring men, and abandoned the project.
The American loss in this engagement was only two killed and seven wounded. Thus dearly did England pay for this violation of the laws of a neutral port. That brig, cruising successfully to the close of the war, could not have inflicted so heavy damage on the enemy as she caused in her capture.
The gallant bearing and patriotic feeling that marked these little cruisers are worthy of record, while the hair-breadth escapes—the tricks employed to entice merchantmen within their reach—the wit and humor exhibited in hailing and answering the hails of vessels—the saucy and irritating acts committed on purpose to provoke—the good-natured jokes they cracked on those they had first outwitted, then conquered, would make a most characteristic and amusing chapter in American history.
Captain Boyle, of the Chasseur, took great delight in provoking frigates to chase him, and when they abandoned the pursuit as hopeless, he would affect to chase in turn, teazing and insulting his formidable adversaries, who tried in vain to cut some spar out of the winged thing in order to lessen her fleetness. Cruising along the English coast, this vessel had some very narrow escapes. While here the captain overhauled a cartel, and sent by it a proclamation with orders to have it stuck up in Lloyd's coffee house, declaring the whole British Empire in a state of blockade, and that he considered the force under him sufficient to maintain it.
This was probably one of the finest private armed vessels afloat during the war. Buoyant as a sea-gull, she sat so lightly and gracefully on the water, that it seemed as if she might, at will, rise and fly. Fleet as the wind, she was handled with such ease that the enemy gazed on her movements with admiration.
Feb. 26, 1815.
Her last exploit was the capture of his majesty's schooner St. Lawrence, carrying fifteen guns. The latter was on her way to New Orleans, with some soldiers, marines, and gentlemen of the navy as passengers. The Chasseur had only six twelve-pounders and eight short nine pound carronades, having been compelled a short time before, when hard pressed by an English frigate, to throw over nearly all her twelve pound carronades. Captain Boyle had no suspicion of the true character of the vessel when he gave chase, for her ports had been closed on purpose to deceive him. He therefore stood boldly on till he got within pistol-shot, when the schooner suddenly opened ten ports on a side and poured in a destructive fire. At the same time the men who had been concealed under the bulwarks leaped up and delivered a volley of musketry. Captain Boyle, discovering what a trap he had been beguiled into, determined at once to stay in it, and ranging alongside within ten yards, opened a tremendous fire with his batteries and musketry. The vessels were so near each other that the voices of officers and men could be distinctly heard, even amid the crashing cannonade. That little privateer exhibited a skill and practice in gunnery unsurpassed by any frigate, and superior to any vessel in the English navy. The enemy was completely stunned by the rapidity and destructive effect of her fire, and in eleven minutes was a perfect wreck. Captain Boyle then gave the command to board, when the flag was struck. In this short space of time the Chasseur had strewed the deck of that schooner with nearly half of her crew, killed and wounded.
Our privateers had greatly the advantage of the English, not only in artillery but in musketry—our men firing with much surer aim than theirs.
It would be impossible to give the names and details of all the vessels and their engagements; but, independent of the vast number of merchantmen captured by them, they took eight national vessels of the enemy, in single combat. They seemed to vie with each other in daring and the venturous exploits they would undertake. One of these vessels would shoot out of port within sight of a blockading squadron, start alone on a cruise, and scouring thirty or forty thousand miles of the ocean, return with a fleet of prizes. The commanders were almost, invariably humane men, treating their prisoners with vastly more kindness than British admirals and commodores did those Americans who fell in their hands. Many acts of kindness and generosity were performed, and a nobleness of spirit exhibited towards a fallen foe, which has ever been, and it is to be hoped ever will be, a distinguished trait in the American character. On one occasion a privateer captured in the channel a Welch vessel from Cardigan, freighted with corn. As the captain went on board he saw a small box with a hole in the top, in the cabin, marked "Missionary box." "What is this?" said he, touching it with a stick. "Oh," replied the Cambrian, "the truth is, my poor fellows here have been accustomed every Monday morning to drop a penny each into that box, for the purpose of sending out missionaries to preach the gospel to the heathen; but it's all over now." "Indeed," said the captain, and reflecting a moment, he added, "Captain, I'll not hurt a hair of your head nor touch your vessel," and immediately returned to his own ship, leaving him unmolested.