From an engraving of a drawing by Corné.
And there was Perry on the upper deck, loading, aiming and firing his guns, while his men dropped around him until at last not enough remained on the quarter-deck to work one gun. Coming to the hatchway Perry asked the surgeon to lend him a man to take a place at the gun. One went, and then another and another, and those who went first were cut down until not one remained below to help the surgeon. And then came Perry to the hatch with a last call for help.
“There is not another man left to go,” said the surgeon.
“Are there none of the wounded, then, who can pull on a rope?” asked Perry.
And at that appeal three men crawled up the hatchway ladder on their hands and knees to grasp the ropes of the gun-tackles. These, aided by Purser Hambleton and Chaplain Breeze, rolled the muzzle of the gun out through the port, where Perry himself aimed and fired it. And that was the last gun fired from the Lawrence. The next broadside from the enemy left her with not a single gun that could be worked, and it severely wounded Purser Hambleton, who was beside Perry. At that Perry turned from the gun to look over the whole scene of battle. The Lawrence was a wreck. Her bowsprit and masts were almost wholly shot away and her hull was riddled. Out of a crew of more than a hundred men who had gone into the fight just fourteen remained unhurt. The remnants of twenty who had been killed outright were scattered about the deck. But the great blue burgee with “Don’t give up the ship” still fluttered aloft in the smoke, and Perry was the man for the motto.
As the firing ceased on the Lawrence, Elliott, who had kept the Niagara clear of the battle during those two long hours, made sail and, after ordering two of the near-by smaller vessels to new stations, headed with a happily freshened breeze for the right of British line. The eyes of Perry, turning from ship to ship, saw the Niagara, with full, round sails and quickening pace, coming. She was headed to pass more than a quarter of a mile from the disabled Lawrence, but Perry saw in her the means of retrieving what had been lost by the concentration of the enemy’s fire upon his own ship. Stripping off the blue nankeen jacket he had worn all day he put on the epauletted coat of his rank and ordered a boat lowered with four men in it on the side of the Lawrence that was in the lee of the iron storm. The lad, Perry’s brother, entered the boat with the men. At the same time the broad pennant of the flagship was hauled down, but the “gridiron flag” of America was left flying where it had been throughout the long conflict. Then, turning to his faithful lieutenant, he said:
“Yarnall, I leave the Lawrence in your charge with discretionary powers. You may hold out or surrender as your judgment and the circumstances shall dictate.”
Perry Transferring his Colors.
After the painting by Powell.