The Bay State Monthly, Volume 3, No. 5

by Various

As she went into action, the Niagara belched forth a broadside at the Detroit and the Queen Charlotte, then a broadside at the Chippawa, the Lady Provost and the Hunter. These broadsides were repeated in rapid succession with terrific effect. The other American vessels, now in action, whose crews were inspired by the daring of their fleet commander, imitated his example and the combined result was such as Britons could not endure. The eagles of victory soon perched in triumph on the mastheads of the American fleet, and Perry had won the battle which James Madison, then President, said "had never been surpassed in lustre, however much it may have been surpassed in magnitude."

After the action, Perry returned to the Lawrence, changed the dress of a common sailor for an undress uniform, that he might appropriately receive the surrender of the enemy on board the vessel that had been in the hardest of the fight and had suffered most from it; and that the remnant of her gallant crew might witness the submission of the foe which had caused their sufferings.

That relief from apprehension for the safety of the fleet might be given to General Harrison and the settlers on the widely extended domain about the Lake, Perry penned and dispatched to that general a hasty note, in words familiar, and destined to be immortal, telling him "We have met the enemy and they are ours," and another like hasty note, to the Secretary of the Navy, informing that officer that, "It has pleased the Almighty to give to the arms of the United States a signal victory over their enemies on this lake. The British squadron consisting of two ships, two brigs, one schooner and one sloop, have this moment surrendered to the force under my command after a sharp conflict." There is nothing of the valor of the pen or of the exaggeration of self from the ink horn in this concise and expressive note.

The enemy's surrender was gracefully received. Perry soon visited the wounded Barclay, and tendered him every service that it was in his power to render, and every possible attention was given to the wounded of both fleets. Then came the roll-call to see who had answered the final summons to duty on the field of honor, who had received marks of courage in the fight, and who had gone through the dreadful ordeal of battle unscathed. It was then that the tears of sorrow mingled with the exultations of victory which soon were to be shouted along the line of every highway and by-way, from hamlet to village, from village to town, and from town to city, throughout the land.

Perry wrote to Governor Brooks of Massachusetts a letter condoling with him on the fall of his gallant son in action; for while Perry's brow was laurelled with the wreath of victory, he did not forget that there were mourners weeping for brave hearts which in the fight had been forever put to rest.

The name of Perry was now made a household word from the great Northern Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, from the Atlantic Coast to the impenetrated wilderness of the West, often repeated at the baptismal font; and a nation's gratitude was soon laid at his feet. As humane in victory as he had been brave in action, his generous kindness won the admiration of Barclay, and his dying comrades showered upon him their blessings and remembered him in their final prayers.

Prayers of gratitude to that Almighty Power which had given victory to the American arms went up from every fireside throughout the Northwest; and mothers pressed their children more closely to their breasts as they thought themselves to be henceforth secure from the scalping-knife of Indian barbarity, and that the savage war-whoop would no more break the sleep of the cradle.

At night-fall many of the dead with all due solemnity were tenderly committed to the deep. The wounded had all been visited and their wants attended to; the worn and weary now sought repose, and a solemn oppressive silence soon pervaded the fleet, save here and there a sound of distress from the wounded. The Captain now retired for reflection, for his mind and heart were too full for rest. He then thought of his young devoted wife whose prayers he believed had been his shield in battle; that his work was yet incomplete while the British had an army on the borders of the Lake, or in Upper Canada,—how he could best aid General Harrison's army; and then resolved on the work of the morrow; when, soothed by reflection, his tired nature gave out, and he, too, sank into a fitful slumber.

The mind of Barclay, relieved of present responsibility, evolved other less pressing but more pensive thoughts. He thought not of himself or his bleeding wound, for he had bled before for his country, when he earned his stars and made his fame secure at Trafalgar; but as the sun went down that night he thought that no more in the evening twilight would the mariners of England standing under the cross of St. George, on that great inland water, sing their national song, "Brittania rules the waves;" no more the echoes of that stirring air rolling over the silver surface of the Lake to its islands and shores would arouse the sturdy dwellers there to join in glad unison in those lofty strains which everywhere, the world over, melt into one every true and loyal British heart. He then was moved by the sadder thought, that on that night the sun of British power which had hitherto dominated the great Northern Lakes of America had gone down forever.