Returning to our station on the 28th we took two vessels laden with wood, which we gave up as before. On the 4th of July we saw a brig in a calm, about four miles from us. The signal was made for all the boats of the squadron, manned and armed, to be ready to attack her. Lieutenant Moss, of the Juno, had the command of the expedition. Making sure of an easy victory, away we pulled towards the stranger over the smooth shining ocean.
The brig we saw, as we drew near, was heavily armed; her colours were flying, and she seemed prepared not to strike without a blow. As soon as we drew within range of her guns she opened her fire on us. This, of course, only expedited our movements, and we dashed on towards her as fast as the oars could send the boats through the water. The brig’s crew founded their hopes of escape probably on the chance of a breeze springing up, of which there were already some signs, while our aim was to get on board before the wind filled her sails. The rebels fought with desperation, and never relaxed their fire till we were alongside. Two or three of our men had been struck. One lost the side of his face by a round-shot which shaved him more cleanly than he would have wished, and spoilt his beauty for life. With loud shouts and cries our men leaped on board, and in two minutes the brig was ours. She mounted ten carriage guns and twelve swivels, was laden with rum and sugar, and was bound for Boston.
On the 5th we ran a brig on shore after a chase of some hours. From her size and pertinacity in endeavouring to escape, we from the first suspected that her cargo was of value. No sooner had she struck than the squadron hove-to and the boats were ordered to pull in to re-take her. I on this occasion remained on board. We were expecting to see the boats haul off the vessel, when, just as they drew near, a large body of troops were perceived hurrying down to the shore. The soldiers at once began firing away at the advancing boats, but notwithstanding they pulled alongside, drove the crew below, and took possession. We saw them make a gallant effort to tow off the vessel, but in three or four minutes, so heavy became the fire, they were compelled to relinquish the attempt. When they reached the ship we found that three men had been wounded, but happily none were killed.
“A tremendous loss we have had!” exclaimed Mr Heron, who commanded the expedition, with a look of disgust. “She is worth twenty thousand pounds at least, if not much more. It is not every day the rebels have a vessel like her to give us.”
“We must keep a sharp look-out after her, and if she gets off, try to get hold of her another day,” said Mr Willis.
In the evening we were directed to stand close in shore to cannonade and endeavour to destroy her, but scarcely had we opened our fire when a gale of wind sprung up, and we were compelled for our own safety to run to sea. We, however, did not yet give up all hopes of capturing her. A few days afterwards, indeed, she fell into our hands, but we were not a little disappointed to find that the rebels had in the meantime removed the greater portion of her cargo.
Nothing for some days occurred to break the monotony of our existence except innumerable unsuccessful chases which sorely tried our first lieutenant’s temper, and the capture of a prodigious quantity of fish. So abundant was the supply that it was the business of the mate of the dog-watch to see that what were not eaten were thrown overboard every night, to prevent the people from keeping them too long. At length I was engaged in an expedition with more serious results than had for some time occurred.
On the 14th we rounded the end of that narrow neck of land known by the name of Cape Cod, and which, circling round like an arm with its elbow bent, forms a wide and extensive bay. We stood along the eastern shore, eagerly looking into every nook and inlet in which a craft could take shelter. As we got abreast of Cape Cod Harbour we saw three vessels at anchor there—a brig, a schooner, and a sloop. Mr Willis reported them to the captain.
“We’ll stand in and overhaul them, then,” was the reply, and the ship’s course was altered accordingly.
No sooner were we perceived by the three vessels than they slipped their cables and made sail in the hopes of escaping. They steered across to the western shore, either on the chance of finding shelter in some creek, or being able to beat out of the bay, and thus get to windward of us.