ON THE LOSS OF THE PRIVATEER BRIGANTINE
GENERAL ARMSTRONG
Captain Samuel C. Reid, of New-York, which sailed from Sandy Hook, on a cruise, the ninth of September, 1814, and on the 26th came to
anchor in the road of Fayal, one of the Azores, or Western Islands, a neutral port belonging to the crown of Portugal. She anchored
in that port for the purpose of procuring a supply of fresh water, when she was attacked by the british ship of war
Plantaganet, of 74 guns, capt. Lloyd; the Rota frigate of 36 guns, and the armed national brig Carnation,
of 18 guns, and many barges of considerable force, all of which she repulsed, with an
immense slaughter, and was then scuttled and sunk by order of Captain Reid,
to prevent her falling into the hands of the enemy.
The Armstrong arrived in the port of Fayal,
And her actions of valor we mean to recall;
Brave Reid, her commander, his valorous crew,
The heroes that aided, his officers, too.
Shall it fall to their lot
To be basely forgot?
O no! while a bard has a pen to command
Their fame shall resound through american land.
In the road of Fayal, when their anchors were cast,
The british were watching to give them a blast;
Not far from the port, for destruction sharp set,
Lay the Rota, Carnation, and Plantagenet:
With a ship of the line
Did a frigate combine,
And a brig of great force, with her boats in the rear,
To capture or burn one New-York privateer!
Four boats from the brig were despatch'd in great haste,
And onward they came, of the Armstrong to taste;
To taste of her powder, to taste of her ball,
To taste of the death she must hurl on them all!—
They came in great speed,
And with courage, indeed,
Well mann'd and well arm'd—so they got along side,
Destruction their motto, damnation their guide.
Now the Armstrong, with vengeance, had open'd her fire,
And gave them as much as they well could desire;
A score of them fell—full twenty fell dead—
Then quarters! they cried, and disgracefully fled:—
To their ships they return'd
Half shatter'd and burn'd—
Not quite in good humor, perhaps in a fret,
And waited new orders from Plantagenet.
Then the Armstrong haul'd in, close abreast of the beach,
So near, that a pistol the castle could reach;
And there she awaited the rest of their plan,
And there they determined to die, to a man,
Ere the lords of the waves
With their sorrowful slaves,
The tyrants, who claim the command of the main,
With strength, though superior, their purpose should gain.
And now the full moon had ascended the sky,
Reid saw by her light that the british were nigh:
The bell of Fayal told the hour—it was nine—
When the foe was observed to advance in a line;
They manoeuvred a while
With their brig, in great style,
Till midnight approach'd when they made their attack,
Twelve boats, full of men, and the brig at their back!
They advanced to the conflict as near as they chose,
When the Armstrong her cannon discharged on her foes—
The town of Fayal stood aghast in amaze
The Armstrong appear'd like all hell in a blaze!
At the blast of Long Tom
The foe was struck dumb:
O lord! are the sons of old England alarm'd—
With music like this they were formerly charm'd!