“Did you not say, sir,” demanded St. Laurent, turning on Bainbridge, “that the ship carried twenty-eight twelve-pounders and the brig twenty nine-pounders?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Bainbridge, cheerfully, “and if I had thought at that moment that I could have saved the ships, by telling you that they carried twenty-four-pounders, I would have done so.”
Three months later the fighting captain of the Insurgent (his name was Barreaut) had an opportunity to show his metal, and it is fair to say that he took advantage of it nobly.
At noon on February 9, 1799, while the Constellation, Captain Truxton, was cruising between Nevis and St. Kitts at the northeast corner of the Caribbean Sea, the lookout discovered a sail to leeward. There was a fresh breeze from the northeast, and squaring away before it, the Constellation spread studding-sails, and with the white foam roaring away from the bow and a swirling wake dragging astern, she went swooping down to reconnoitre. But no sooner had sail been spread than a black squall came down with the wind, and all hands had to turn to, as if for life, to shorten sail.
There were lively lads aloft on the Yankee ships of those days, for the crews, down to the powder monkeys, were inspired by a sense of honor. They stripped the Constellation in time to save her spars, but the other ship lost her main-topmast, and when the squall had passed, it was seen that she had changed her course, hoping to reach port at St. Eustatius.
But the Constellation was soon upon her. She hoisted American colors, but could not answer a private signal, and a little later sent up the French flag and fired a gun in defiance.
Later still (it was at 3.15 o’clock), when the Constellation, with her canvas above the topsails furled, came bowling down, the enemy hailed, but no reply was made. Captain Truxton was not yet ready, but when he had arrived within ten yards just off the enemy’s weather quarter and the hail was repeated, Captain Truxton answered with a full broadside.
The fire was instantly returned, and then the enemy shoved his helm hard down, intending to luff up yardarm to yardarm and board the Constellation. In that move lay his only hope for victory, for he carried a hundred men more than the Constellation. But Captain Truxton was not to be caught. The Constellation being unhurt aloft, was able not only to steer clear of the crippled Frenchman, but to pass across his bows and rake him.
Then the Constellation dropped down on the starboard side and gave the Frenchman other broadsides, and following up the advantage of superior sailing power, she once more crossed his bows and raked again. Again she passed alongside, firing as she went, and this was so effective that every eighteen-pounder in the main-deck battery of the Frenchman was dismounted, leaving him nothing but twelve-pounders for continuing the fight. Nevertheless, the Frenchman held fast his colors until the Constellation once more drew ahead in a position to rake. The fight was then absolutely hopeless and the Frenchman struck.
