During the greater portion of that terrible time which has been so vividly described by one who afterward became familiar with all the horrible details, I had but little idea of what was going on, save among us on the gun-deck.

We had nothing to do with the poor efforts at handling the sorely wounded ship, and could only load and fire so long as a gun's crew remained alive.

When one fell dead or wounded at his task another was called to fill his place, and speedily the deck was so littered with the lifeless or the dying that some of us would be summoned to aid the surgeon's force in dragging them out of the way.

As during the first portion of the engagement, I was burning with the fever of battle, and had so little knowledge of what was being done that I could not have said whether one hour or ten had elapsed since the action was begun. It seemed to me as if we had been half an ordinary lifetime at this business, and I had stood so long beneath the shadow of the death angel's wings that I took it for granted I should be numbered with the slain when the conflict ceased, but gave no heed to such possibility.

Phil and I knew vaguely, because of the dreadful slaughter which followed, when the frigate's bow payed off while Captain Porter was trying to beach her, and we came to realize dimly—as though it was something which did not concern us personally—that we were being so badly cut to pieces as to make it certain our people must finally yield to the enemy; but above all was the one thought, a single desire, to do as much damage as possible to the Britishers before our ship went down.

Then, when we were in position where we could fire a broadside, we began to cheer once more, believing that after all our disadvantages we might compel the foe to retire; but our hearts did not sink, perhaps because we were too much excited to realize it, when the hawser of the sheet anchor parted, leaving us once again where we could be raked.

When the ship was on fire we ran to the spar-deck, yet fighting the flames, and neither Phil nor I knew until afterward that permission had been given the men to leap overboard and save themselves.

We would not have deserted the ship, however, because both of us were following Master Hackett very closely; it seemed much as though he had become a part of us, and we could do nothing save by his side or under his direction.

Why we three, when all those brave hearts were sent into eternity on that 28th day of March, should have escaped a wound I am unable to say; it must have been, as my mother said, that God was not yet ready to receive us into that portion of his kingdom that had been allotted us.

The old man took us lads by the hand when finally Captain Porter gave orders that the colors be hauled down in token of surrender, and there we stood as if unable to move or speak, when the Britishers came on board.

The living were allowed to bury the dead; the wounded were taken on shore, and then we were, with many others, sent on board the Cherub, where we were by no means badly treated. More than one Britisher on board that ship was ashamed, as I myself heard them say, at our having been attacked while disabled, and nearly all did whatsoever they might to ease the burden of grief and disappointment.

There is no good reason why I should set down here what we did or said during such time as we remained in the harbor of Valparaiso, for it would be sad reading. It can well be supposed that we mourned for our brave fellows who had been killed, and our hearts went out in sympathy to those wounded ashore; but as for ourselves, we could do nothing save exist.

Then came the day when it was made known that Captain Hillyar had decided it would be quite out of the question to hamper himself with so many prisoners, and the Essex Junior was to be converted into a cartel[5] to take us home after we had given our paroles.

It seemed most wonderful that after passing through so many dangers we were really to see our native country once more. I wept tears of joy when the news came to me, and was not ashamed of so doing. During the fight, and for many a long day afterward, I thought of myself as so nearly in the clutches of death that I was already done with the things of this world.

When the arrangements had finally been made, however, we learned that my cousin, Lieutenant McKnight, Mr. Adams, the chaplain, Mr. Lyman, a master's mate, and eleven of our sailors had already been exchanged for some prisoners taken from the Sir Andrew Hammond, and were then on board the Essex Junior.

Later, after we had sailed for the United States, my cousin and Mr. Lyman went to Rio de Janeiro in the Phoebe in order to give some testimony in behalf of the captors. From that port they sailed in a Swedish brig bound to England, and since that moment it has been impossible to learn aught concerning their fate. The captain of the brig declares that his passengers were sent on board the British sloop-of-war Wasp, at their own request. The Wasp was never heard from after she parted company with the brig; but it is my opinion, and shared by many, that Lieutenant McKnight and his companion were foully murdered by the Swede.

We left the port of Valparaiso with our papers in good order, and all on board rejoicing at the prospect of seeing their loved ones once more. At that time I believed nothing could tempt me to leave my mother again; but "once a sailor always a sailor" is the proverb, and I am inclined to think it has in it much truth.

The voyage was a prosperous one; we doubled Cape Horn without difficulty or incident, and had we but been in the good ship Essex, returning home after a successful cruise, the days would not have been long enough for all our happiness. As it was, however, we lived over and over again the past, discussing the battle which had cost us so dearly and left the poor old frigate a wreck in the harbor of Valparaiso, and speaking tenderly with many a choking sob of the shipmates who stood gallantly to their posts of duty until death struck them down.

Now we were returning on parole, the survivors of a ship's company which had struck their colors to the enemy, and it weighed us down, even though we knew full well that the cruise of the Essex had been of greatest value to our country.

We talked of the old ship as if she had once been a living thing, and regretted most deeply that we had not succeeded in beaching her, or that we had extinguished the flames when her hold was apparently a mass of fire.

In fact, we went over all the details of our voyage which was ending so sadly, never tiring during all the long weeks, and many times did we conjure up pictures of our shipmates who had been left behind on Nukuheva, wondering what they would do after months had passed and we failed to return, or speculating upon the possibility that they would attempt the homeward cruise in one of the prizes.

Poor fellows! While we spoke of them as living happily and amid plenty, they were battling for life, as I may one day set down in detail, if it so be that this feeble apology for a landsman's yarn finds favor with those who may read it.

The voyage on the cartel was a prosperous one, as I have already said, and in due time we were off the port of New York, believing that within a few hours, at the longest, we would be at liberty to go wheresoever it pleased us. The Essex Junior was no more than thirty miles from land when we sighted a Britisher who speedily gave us to understand that we must heave to and show our papers.

The stranger proved to be the Saturn, a razee (meaning a ship-of-war cut down to a smaller size by reducing the number of decks), commanded by Captain Nash.

We had not supposed there might be any question of our detention, for we had a passport in due form from Captain Hillyar; but this Britisher took it into his head that there must be something wrong with our craft; he even questioned the right of Captain Hillyar to parole us, and ended by giving the order that we lay by him during the night.

Immediately visions of a British prison danced before our eyes. We had been forced into a fight when our ship was little better than a wreck, by one Englishman, and now here was another who proposed to take in charge a lot of paroled men who were free to sail to their port of destination according to the usages of war among all nations.

After a time of jawing and tongue wagging among our sailors, we came to believe that Captain Porter was the one whom the Britisher particularly desired to hold; for surely he could have no wish to hamper himself with a lot of seamen whom he must, beyond a peradventure, set at liberty when his government learned the facts in the case.

What they would do with our captain no one seemed to so much as guess; we had decided among ourselves that some indignity would be put upon him, and when the word was passed from one to another that Captain Porter was inclined to make his escape in one of the small boats, every man jack volunteered to pull him ashore.

To row a ship's boat thirty miles, with the chances of being lost in the fog which was even then creeping over the waters, seemed like a desperate undertaking; but when Master Hackett, who had been selected by the crew as their spokesman, went aft and made known to Captain Porter what they desired to do, he accepted the offer without hesitation.

One of our boats was launched to leeward, where she might not be seen by those on the razee, and our commander, with little Midshipman Farragut by his side, lowered himself into the stern-sheets after the crew were at their stations.

Six hardy seamen gave way at the oars, and Phil and I waved our hats in parting at Master Hackett, whom we did not see again until many a long day had passed.

The Britisher caught a glimpse of the small boat as she pulled out past our ship, and he pitched a shot after her as a signal to heave to; but the old shellbacks who sat at the oars were not the kind to be frightened by the burning of British powder. They had sniffed the odor many times before, and if they would voluntarily remain on a burning ship while the enemy was plugging ball after ball into her as if she had been no more than a target, they could be depended upon to hold their course regardless of Captain Nash and the razee Saturn.

Before the Britishers could fire at them again they were lost to view in the fog, and, as we learned two days afterward, landed in safety on Long Island.

Next morning Captain Nash, after examining our papers once more, gave us permission to continue the voyage, and before nightfall we were lying in the harbor of New York, rejoicing at having escaped death or a British prison.

Yes, we were made much of, once it was known in the city who we were, but of that there is no reason why I should speak at any length.

I should add, however, that after sailing and rowing sixty miles or more, the boat in which was our commander arrived at Babylon, on the south side of Long Island, and even then her occupants were not free from trouble. Captain Porter was suspected by the citizens of being a British officer, and but for the fact that he had his commission from Congress in his pocket, he might have been detained.

He made his way to New York, where he was received with demonstrations of most profound respect; and when the exploits of the Essex had been told, every city, village, and hamlet in the country sung the praises of the frigate and those who manned her.

Phil and I went home as soon as it was possible to escape from those who were eager to show their admiration of what had been done by the Essex, and I carried in my pocket a song which was made especially for the frigate. It was printed and sold on the streets; there was in the verses no little praise for all hands; but the lines I set down here pleased me more than all the rest, since they referred to that gallant sailor who by his skill and courage had made it possible for any of us to see home again.

[5] A ship employed in the exchange of prisoners, or in communicating with the enemy.