hundred and ten, made up with some of the
crew of the Tenedos, and anything the captain
could pick up round about; yet the contest
was not unequal, according to his calculation;
for were not British pluck and endurance worth
more than mere numerical superiority?

On receiving the challenge the Chesapeake
"took in her royals and top-gallant sails, hauled
in her courses," and came out, slowly and majestically,
all gay with flags and colours, bearing,
besides her three ensigns, a large white flag at
the fore with "Free-Trade and Sailors' Rights"
emblazoned in broad bold letters upon it. The
Shannon had only a rusty old blue ensign at
her peak, though down below she had something
better than strips of showy bunting to trust to,
having wisely cared for discipline and temper
rather more than for seaman's coquetry of ship's
apparel. As the Chesapeake came out of the
harbour on that bright calm sunny June day,
the Shannon filled and stood under easy sail,
running a little before the wind, till she got to
somewhere about six leagues from Boston light-
house, within sight of land, and at signal distance.
This was about four o'clock. Up came the
Chesapeake gaily, with characteristic insolence firing a
gun at the Shannon, as if to bring her to, and to
remind her there was to be no skulking that
day, and that running easily before the wind was
all very well as a display of the ship's paces,
but would not do if carried too far. In answer
to that iron word so boldly and sarcastically
uttered, the Shannon hauled up, and reefed her
topsails, "her foresail brailed up, and her main-
topsail flat and shivering," so that the Chesapeake
could overtake her; for the ships were
now about seven miles apart, and the game was
drawing to its culmination. At half-past five
the Chesapeake "luffed up" to about half a
pistol-shot of the Shannon; then laying herself
yard-arm and yard-arm with her foe, poured in
her opening broadside. The Shannon returned
it with terrible effect. Through mast and sail
and rigging and hull that broadside flew and
tore, striking down men and officers by scores,
doing such deadly work, and so suddenly, that
the men faltered, and after a few more of the
same kind, grew unsteady at their guns, and
worked them wildly and weakly, Then Captain
Broke, seeing the enemy, as he says in his
despatch, "flinching at his guns," called up his
boarders, and the whole living tide of resistless
fury and wrath poured like a stream of fire on
the deck.

The fight was desperate but short. In fifteen
minutes from the time the Chesapeake had
fired her first volley the whole thing was
done. The thousands and thousands of spectators
thronging the hill and lining the shores
about Boston—some with watches in their
hands, betting on the time it would take their
ship to beat the Britisher's—made no question
as to how the fight would turn. Their ship was
the largest and the heaviest, their men the
strongest and most numerous, their luck
confirmed, their cause most righteous; the event
was known already, according to the wording of
their prophecies; when the smoke, clearing
away, showed the Chesapeake, with her three
gay ensigns down, and the Union Jack floating
in their place. Seventy-seven officers and men
lay dead on the Chesapeake deck—a hundred
more were wounded; but the Shannon had lost
only twenty-three, with only fifty-two wounded.
Of these Captain Broke himself was one, but
not badly hurt. His head had been laid open
with a sabre-cut as he boarded, but he was able
to go on with the fight and attend to his duty,
while poor Captain Lawrance, of the Chesapeake,
had been mortally wounded at an early
part of the fray, and his untimely
disablement had undoubtedly helped to dishearten
his men and make them "flinch at their
guns." Furthermore, it was stated by the
officers, who survived the fight only to be tried
by a court-martial when they got home, that
Lawrance called for his boarding party to come
forward before the English captain had given his
order, but that, by some fatality, a negro bugler
had been substituted for the appointed drummer:
he, paralysed with terror, had hidden himself
below, and when brought on deck and ordered
to sound, was so frightened and undone that he
could not get out a note. Lawrance then sent
a verbal message, but without effect; and the
moment after fell back on the deck, shot through
the body. It was when he was carried below
that the men faltered: and then Captain Broke
headed his boarders, and the Chesapeake was
his prize. Again, the same officers stated that
the British fired a volley down the hatchways
and into the cockpit, where the wounded and
the vanquished had taken refuge; but this charge
was met by a counter-statement that the Chesapeake
men had fired up the hatchway after she
had struck her flag, and was no longer free to
defend herself. More than this, the English
accused the Chesapeake of firing on them from
the rigging, and of finding a huge barrel of lime
standing on the forecastle with its head knocked
off for—what purpose no one could tell, except
to fling into the eyes of the enemy, which, if
true, was fatal to all ideas of honour or nobleness
in American warfare. Also, they said that the
shot used was of a diabolical kind: angular jagged
bits of iron, broken gunlocks, and copper nails,
intended to fester in the body, and produce
cruel and unnecessary torments. But it is only
fair to the dead brave to state that Captain
Brake's despatches say nothing of all this; nor
did Wilson Croker in his official announcement
in the House; and that the most positive notice
we have of these crimes is in James's Naval
History, a work so full of party-feeling and
injustice to the other side as to be utterly
unreliable. Be that as it may, however, the two
ships were now under English colours, and
sailed away together—Captain Philip Broke, for
public thanks, a gold medal, and a baronetcy,
and Captain John Lawrance, for a prisoner
seaman's grave at Halifax. He died of his
wounds on the sixth of June, and the British
buried him with all due naval honours, every
English captain in the harbour following him to