This was overheard by our commander, and having got his ship into just the position he wished, and seeing that he was discovered, he gave the order:
“Down with the English flag and hoist our own colors!”
Then he called out to the British captain in a voice of thunder:
“The time I proposed talking with you has ended, sir. This is the Boston frigate. I am Samuel Tucker, and no rebel. Either fire or strike your flag!”
Observing that his antagonist had all the advantage of him, and that a broadside would be fatal, the Britisher struck his colors. Not a gun was fired.
Later, when the commander of the Pole came on board of our ship, and went below to the stateroom assigned him, he shed tears to think that he had been captured by a vessel not so large as his own, and with only half as many men, and eight less guns. It is also reported that on his release and return to England he was tried and disgraced for this surrender.
Quite in contrast with this was the treatment given our Captain on his arrival in Philadelphia with his prize. Her capture added to his prowess, he received a vote of thanks from Congress, and, owing to her superior size and equipment, her entire value of one hundred and three thousand pounds sterling was turned over to us as prize money.
Probably, however, the most disgusted man on board the captured frigate was the captain of the packet Sandwich, who had given us our first news about her, and who had boasted she would speedily capture us. He had been a silent witness of her ignominious surrender. Then Captain Tucker had sent him on board of her, with instructions that each day while we were on our way to port, he was to be conducted all over her, from bow to stern, and from lower hold to upper deck, and then he was to be told:
“This, sir, is the vessel which was specially fitted up and sent out to look up the frigate Boston, and give her captain a sound drubbing.”