Part 19 (1/2)

”Twenty fathoms,” is the reply.

”Out with the kedge anchor!” cries Hull.

All the spare ropes and cables are fastened together and payed out to an anchor, which is dropped into the sea a mile ahead. The sailors on the frigate go round {175} the windla.s.s on the run, and the vessel is slowly drawn ahead to the anchor, which is now quickly taken up and carried out once more. This is called kedging.

Our sailor boys give cheer on cheer as they whirl the windla.s.s and pull at the oars.

The captain of one of the enemy's frigates now sees the game, and tries kedging, but does not get near enough to throw a shot.

Three of the pursuing frigates open fire at long range, without doing any damage.

All day long this pursuit is kept up. Every gun is loaded, ready to fire. The men rest by the cannon, with their rammers and their sponges beside them. All the next day the chase goes on. At last, slowly but surely, the American frigate gains on her pursuers. At four o'clock in the afternoon, the Shannon is four miles astern.

Two hours later, a squall gave Hull a chance to play a trick on his pursuers. Sail was shortened the moment the squall struck. The British captain, seeing the apparent confusion on board the Yankee frigate, also shortened sail. The moment his vessel was hidden by {176} the rain, Hull quickly made sail again. When the weather cleared, his nearest pursuer was far astern.

At daylight the next morning, the British fleet was almost out of sight, and, after a chase of three nights and two days, gave up the contest.

Six days later, the good people of Boston went wild with delight, as their favorite frigate ran the blockade and came to anchor in the harbor.

Captain Hull was not the man to be shut up in Boston harbor if he could help it. In less than two weeks he ran the blockade and sailed out upon the broad ocean. A powerful British fleet was off the coast.

Hull knew it, but out he sailed with his single s.h.i.+p to battle for his country.

Now the British had a fine frigate named the Guerriere. This vessel was one of the fleet that had given the Const.i.tution such a hot chase a few days before. Captain Dacres, her commander, and Captain Hull were personal friends, and had wagered a hat on the result of a possible battle between their frigates. The British captain had just written a challenge to the commander of our fleet, saying that he should like to meet any frigate of the United States, to have a few minutes _tete-a-tete_.

On the afternoon of August 19, about seven hundred miles northeast of Boston, these two finest frigates in the world, the Guerriere and the Const.i.tution, met for the ”interview” that Dacres so much wanted.

All is hurry and bustle on ”Old Ironsides.”

{177} ”Clear for action!” shrilly sounds the boatswain's whistle.

The fife and drum call to quarters. Everybody hurries to his place.

The British frigate, as if in defiance, flings out a flag from each topmast. Her big guns flash, but the b.a.l.l.s fall short.

”Don't fire until I give the word,” orders Captain Hull.

Now the Guerriere, drawing nearer and nearer, pours in a broadside.

”Shall we not fire, sir?” asks Lieutenant Morris.

”Not yet,” is Hull's reply.

Another broadside tears through the rigging, wounding several men.

The sailors are restless at their double-shotted guns.

Now the two frigates are fairly abreast, and within pistol shot of each other.

”Now, boys, do your duty. Fire!” shouts the gallant commander, at the top of his voice.