“It was sufficient, and we immediately weighed anchor and stood to sea. A short distance out, we encountered a squadron of the enemy, and the chase that ensued has already become matter of history. Of the fatigue we underwent, and the unsurpassed exertions we made, I can give you no idea. For most of the time the wind was light, and occasionally it subsided to a perfect calm. At such times the sun, fierce and fiery, scorched us with the intensity of his blaze; while towing and kedging, our crew toiled manfully and without a murmur: with the perspiration streaming from their brows, no one dreamed of relaxation. Each one, sleeping at his post, caught his meals as he could. At one time, the nearest ship, being towed by all the boats of the squadron, was enabled to gain fast upon us, notwithstanding our redoubled and almost superhuman exertions. The surface of the ocean, unmoved by undulation, and smooth as a mirror, reflected the black and threatening hulls of our pursuers. Gradually, like huge, creeping monsters, they seemed all to gain upon us, when, at the very crisis of our fate, a catspaw, faint as a fleeting shadow, darkened a spot upon the water, and then disappeared, leaving no trace behind; again, another, and another, imperceptibly increasing in extent and force, until commingling into one, and rippling the ocean with its breath, the light but glorious breeze came on. Swinging the ponderous yards to meet its glad embrace, we thanked our God that we were the first to feel it. The sails, late so listless and inactive, first flapped exultingly, and then slowly distending, our noble ship, in all her grace and pride and beauty, like a recruited steed, renewed the race she had so nearly lost. With sail on sail, packed wide and high, from the bulwarks to the trucks, each ship was soon a pyramid of canvas. Behind us was captivity or death—before us freedom, and perchance renown. Judge, then, with what thrills of delight we soon perceived that we were leaving our pursuers. The wind freshened as the night closed in, and early the ensuing day the enemy abandoned the chase as hopeless. For sixty hours we had toiled unceasingly, and human nature had been taxed to the utmost.
“Cut off from New York, our commander determined to proceed to Boston. Off Long Island we spoke an American vessel, and by her the captain wrote to the Secretary of the Navy, acquainting him with his escape, and informing him that he would proceed to Boston, where he trusted to receive permission to cruise at sea. We reached the harbor late one evening, by midnight we had commenced taking in provisions and water, and in twenty-four hours were ready for sea. For three days beyond the time we should have heard from Washington, we were kept in the most anxious suspense. All hands were detained on board except the purser, who, on the arrival of each mail, hurried to the post-office, in the hope of finding the desired letter. On the third day there did come an official letter, but it was addressed to a ward-room officer on the subject of his pay.
“It was then that Captain Hull took a resolution which evinced as much wisdom as moral courage. He knew that the cruisers of the enemy swarmed upon our coast, and he chafed with impatient desire to fairly encounter one of them. He determined to put to sea without orders, and immediately carried his purpose into execution.
“We had soon the satisfaction to meet an adversary. It was one of the ships belonging to the squadron which had chased us. Instead of increasing we now sought to lessen the intervening distance, and as we approached, each ship, like a combatant in the arena, partially stripped herself for the conflict. Under reduced sail, leisurely, deliberately, we neared each other. It was a moment of intense excitement. England had so long styled herself the mistress of the seas, and the arrogance of the claim was so lessened by her almost uninterrupted career of victory, that the boldest and most sanguine among us admitted probability of defeat. Yet there was no shrinking of the nerve, not one instant’s hesitation of purpose. Our country had sent us forth, and in the hour of peril she relied upon us. We knew that we might be defeated, but felt that we could not be disgraced. The flag, with the proud vessel which bore it, might sink beneath the waves, or with it, by one terrific explosion, be scattered in shreds and fragments upon its surface, but each one felt that it could never be struck to a single adversary.
“I had thought before that I had some idea of a battle, but imagination fell short of the stern and startling reality. Men, lately so calm, collected, and seemingly almost impassive, were wrought to the highest pitch of frenzy, and reeking with perspiration, and begrimed with powder, as seen through the fire and the smoke, appeared like infuriated demons. The ship, reeling like a drunken man, quivered with each recoil, but there was no screaming, no shouting—the ministers of death were too earnest for noisy exhibition, and except the stifled groans of the wounded, and the brief, quick words of command, the human voice was unheard.
“You know the result. At the report of the last gun in that conflict, as at the blast of the Israelite trumpets before Jericho, the walls of British invincibility fell—like them, too, never to rise again. But, dearest, I tire you.”
“No, Edward, I love to listen to you. When I first read of that victory I wept for joy. Now, although it is past, I tremble, while I rejoice, at the danger you incurred; but tell me, did you escape unhurt?”
“I received a flesh wound merely, but it proved irritable and difficult of cure. In consequence, I was prevented from again sailing in the ship; but my promotion was secured, and I congratulate myself on my present position. The ship to which I am attached is smaller than the Constitution, but she is well-manned and ably commanded. There is no telling at what moment she may meet with an opponent; and you, dearest, would not have me absent while my shipmates are battling for our country.”
“No, Edward, I will not be less patriotic than yourself; but we have so shortly known and understood each other, that it is hard to separate so soon, and when there is so much danger that we may never meet again; beside, your impatience retards your recovery.”
“Fear not, Mary, the fever has entirely left me, and my strength increases daily—thanks to your gentle nurture, for, unseen, though hovering near, you not only supplied my wants but anticipated every wish.”