“Perhaps not,” replied Decatur. “But you found out, probably, from the American merchant vessels you captured, that France was at war with the United States.”
At that the Frenchman laughed in spite of his defeat.
“I can stand a leetle thing like this,” he said. “I have had much good luck, and when I tell my countrymen it took your cracque frigate fourteen hours to catch me—parbleu, zey will not think I have done ill.”
“You are quite right, sir,” answered Decatur. “You gave us more trouble to overhaul than a ‘cracque’ English frigate.”
The commodore and his officers all treated the brave French captain as if he had been captain of a man-of-war; and as he proved to be a pleasant, entertaining fellow, he enlivened the ship very much.
But Commodore Barry was anxious to get rid of so many prisoners, which encumbered the ship, and he determined to stand for Guadeloupe, in the hope of effecting an exchange of prisoners. He therefore entered Basseterre Roads, on a lovely morning a few days after capturing and sinking the Tartuffe. A white flag flying at the gaff showed that he was bent on a peaceful errand. Everything, however, was in readiness in case the men should have to go to quarters. Although the ports were open the guns were not run out, nor were their tompions withdrawn. The French captain, standing on the quarter-deck in his uniform, was easily recognizable.
The beautiful harbor of Guadeloupe, with its circlet of warlike forts, looked peculiarly attractive to the eyes of seamen who had been cruising for many long months. “Old Wagoner” had been newly painted, and as she stood in the Roads, under all her square canvas, she was a perfect picture of a ship. Just as they came abreast of the first fort, however, the land battery let fly, and a shower of cannon balls plowed up the water about two hundred yards from the advancing ship.
“Haul down that white flag!” thundered Commodore Barry, and Danny Dixon rushed to the halyards and dragged it down in a jiffy, and in another minute the roll of the drums, as the drummer boys marched up and down beating “quarters,” resounded through the ship. The French captain, mortified at the treacherous action of the forts, quickly drew his cap over his eyes and went below.
The United States then, with every gun manned and shotted, sailed within gunshot of the first fort that had offered the insult, and, backing her topsails, gave a broadside that sent the masonry tumbling about the ears of the garrison and dismounting several guns. This was followed up by another and another broadside, all accurately aimed, and knocking the fort considerably to pieces. Then, still under short canvas, she slowly sailed around the whole harbor, paying her compliments to every fort within gunshot, but without firing a gun into the helpless town. And when “Old Wagoner” drew off and made her way back to the open ocean, it was conceded that she had served the Frenchmen right for their unchivalrous proceeding.
The whole spring was spent in cruising, and it was the first of June when, on a Sunday morning, the ship being anchored, the boatswain and his eight mates, standing in line on the port gangway, piped up that sound so dear to every sailor’s heart, “All hands up anchor for home!” At the same moment the long red pennant, that signifies the ship is homeward bound, was joyfully hoisted at the main, and “Old Wagoner” turned her nose toward home. Just one year from the time they had left the Delaware, Decatur and Somers set foot again upon the green shore of the beautiful bay—happier, wiser, and better fellows for their year in the steerage of the fine old frigate.