I fancy if any of us had been close by then we would have heard ringing cheers from the Yankee crew. They felt sure now of their prize, though we cannot see why, for the Margaretta had twenty-four cannon, four throwing six-pound balls and the rest one-pound balls. Muskets and pitchforks did not seem of much use against these. It had also more men than the sloop.
We cannot see why Captain Moore showed his heels instead of his fists, for he soon proved that he was no coward. But he still seemed to want to get away, so he drew up beside a schooner that lay at anchor, robbed it of its boom, lashed it to his own mast and once more took to flight. But the sloop was now not far behind, and soon showed that it was the better sailer of the two. In the end it came so close that Captain Moore was forced to fight or yield.
One of the swivel guns was fired, and then came a whole broadside, sending its balls hurtling over the crowded deck of the sloop. One man fell dead, but no other harm was done.
Only a single shot was fired back, but this came from a heavy gun and was aimed by an old hunter. It struck the man at the helm of the schooner. He fell dead, letting the rudder swing loose.
The Margaretta, with no hand at her helm, broached to, and in a minute more the sloop came crashing against her. At once there began a fierce battle between the British tars and the haymakers of Maine, who sprang wildly and with ringing cheers for the schooner's deck. Weapons of all sorts now came into play. Cutlasses, hand-grenades, pistols and boarding pikes were used by the schooner's men; muskets, pitchforks, and axes were skilfully handled by the crew of the sloop. Men fast fell dead and wounded; the decks grew red with blood; both sides fought fiercely, the men of Machias striving like tigers to gain a footing on the schooner's deck, the British tars meeting and driving them back.
Captain Moore showed that it was not fear that made him run away. He now fought bravely at the head of his men, cheering them on and hurling hand-grenades at the foe.
But in a few minutes the end came. A bullet struck the gallant captain and he fell dead on his deck. When they saw him fall the crew lost heart and drew back. The Yankees swarmed over the bulwarks. In a minute more the Margaretta was theirs.
The battle, though short, had been desperate, for twenty men lay killed and wounded, more than a fourth of the whole number engaged.
As Bunker Hill showed British soldiers that the Yankees could fight on land, so the capture of the Margaretta, the first naval victory of the Americans, showed that they could fight at sea. The Margaretta was very much the stronger, in men, in guns, and in her trained officers and skilled crew. Yet she had been taken by a party of landsmen, with muskets against cannon and pitchforks against pistols. It was a victory of which the colonists could well be proud.
But Captain O'Brien was not yet satisfied. He had now a good sloop under his feet, a good crew at his back, and the arms and ammunition of his prize. He determined to go a-privateering on his own account.