Four nautical heels were shown in a trice;
Down thro’ the night, like a hound, they’re away
To the lair of their quarry in Delaware Bay.
The sun had come up when they rounded Port Penn.
And O what a sight there for gods and for men!
A schooner (ten guns pointed out from her side,
With the flag of the Briton) swung free in the tide.
With a leap like a tiger the boats swung around,
Then straight for the Briton, with bound upon bound.
“Grapple tight!” cried the Captain, and guiding his band,