In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

But whatever the circumstances, they could not change the fact that we were pursued by a foe so formidable that, should she overhaul us, it would be folly to resist her. Our only hope was to keep out of her clutches, and even this I confess was not at that time very reassuring. Still we did all we could to distance her. I gave orders to spread every sail, and to put the ship on a course where I knew she would do her best. An hour passed, and so far as we could detect, our pursued was no nearer than when we had discovered her. Our hopes brightened. Could we only hold our present rate of speed throughout the day, we might with the coming of the night elude her.

Noon came. The frigate was nearer us than in the morning, but still too far away to reach us with her cannon. The rate she was gaining on us made it doubtful that she would come within firing distance before sunset. Every man on our ship breathed easier.

At four o’clock she fired a shot, but it fell fifty fathoms short of us—far enough away to escape us, yet too uncomfortably near to be pleasant. It was disagreeable to feel that a gain of three hundred feet would allow the ball to drop on our deck.

I had already resorted to nearly every device I could conceive of to increase the speed of our craft. One remained—the wetting of our sails—but the low temperature had prevented me from trying that. It would not only mean cold work for us, but also an icy deck and sails. Still, anything was preferable to our falling into the hands of the enemy, and I therefore turned to Master LeMoyne, and asked him the advisability of making the experiment.

“Do you notice how the jibs are bellowing?” he responded. “Why not try the water on them? It will enable them to hold the wind, and may be sufficient to keep the ship out of the Britisher’s reach until dark.”

I accepted the suggestion, and in five minutes had our brave men dashing the icy water on the canvas. It was not long before the effect was noticeable. We actually gained upon the frigate, and at sundown she was over a mile away.

The night came rapidly on, but not so dark as we could wish. Still I hoped that with no lights set we might get beyond the vision of the pursuer, and then, changing our course, elude her. Anxiously we waited for the moment to come when it would be safe for us to make the attempt.

It was long in coming, for the man-of-war did not hesitate to put out her own lights, and was therefore plainly invisible to us, while it made it difficult for us to decide whether she could see us or not. Not far from nine o’clock, however, I concluded we could not discern the frigate were it not for her lights, and reasoned that she could no longer perceive us. So I ordered our course changed to due east. Two minutes later our pursuer altered her own course and followed us. It was clear she could still make us out notwithstanding the darkness.

After a half-hour’s run to the eastward I became convinced that we were losing ground, and resumed our former course. The English craft as promptly swung in behind us.

“They have good eyes on board yonder frigate,” I remarked to Quartermaster Mohyes, who stood near me.