"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 ship 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.

Hull is a short and stout man. As he leans over to give the order to fire, his breeches burst from hip to knee. The men roar with laughter. There is no time to waste, however, and so he finishes the battle in his laughable plight.

An officer, pointing to the captain, cries, "Hull her, boys! hull her!"

The men, catching the play upon words, shout, "Hull her! Yes, we'll hull her!"

{178} "Old Ironsides" now lets fly a terrible broadside at close range. The Guerriere's mizzenmast goes overboard.

"My lads, you have made a brig of that craft!" cries Hull.

"Wait a moment, sir, and we'll make her a sloop!" shout back the sailors.

Sure enough, the Guerriere swings round and gets a raking fire, which cuts away the foremast and much of the rigging, and leaves her a helpless hulk in the trough of the sea. The flag goes down with the rigging, and there is nothing to do but to surrender.

In just thirty minutes, the British frigate is a wreck.

During the hottest part of the battle, a sailor, at least so runs the story, saw a cannon ball strike the side of the vessel and fall back into the sea.

"Hurrah, boys! hurrah for 'Old Ironsides'!" he shouted to his mates; "her sides are made of iron."

Some say that from this incident the nickname of "Old Ironsides" took its origin.

Captain Hull received his old friend Dacres, kindly, on board the Const.i.tution, and said, "I see you are wounded, Dacres. Let me help you."

When the British captain offered his sword, Hull said, "No, Dacres, I cannot take the sword of a man who knows so well how to use it, but I will thank you for that hat!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hull refuses Dacres's Sword]

Just as they were ready to blow up the Guerriere, Dacres remembered that a Bible, his wife's gift, which {179} he had carried with him for years, had been left behind. Captain Hull at once sent a boat after it.

Twenty-five years after this incident, Captain Dacres, then an admiral, gave Hull a dinner on his flagship, at Gibraltar, and told the ladies the story of his wife's Bible.

When "Old Ironsides" came sailing up the harbor, on the last day of August, what a rousing reception the people of Boston gave Captain Hull and his gallant men!

All the people of the town crowded the wharves or filled the windows and the housetops overlooking the bay. The streets were gay with bunting, and there was a grand dinner, with many patriotic speeches and deafening cheers.

In less than five months after her battle with the Guerriere, the Const.i.tution had her hardest fight. It was with the Java, one of the best frigates in the British navy. Her commander, Captain Lambert, was said to be {180} one of the ablest sailors that ever handled a war ship. The battle took place some thirty miles off the northeast coast of Brazil.

The Const.i.tution was commanded by Captain William Bainbridge. Before this, he had done some feats of seamanship, but thus far in his career he had not been fortunate. As you remember, Captain Bainbridge, through no fault of his own, lost the Philadelphia off the harbor of Tripoli.

The battle began about two o'clock in the afternoon, with broadsides from both frigates.

Bainbridge was soon wounded in the hip by a musket ball; then the wheel was shattered, and a small copper bolt was driven into his thigh. Unwilling to leave the deck a moment, he had his wounds dressed while directing the battle.

Finding that he could not get near enough to the swift British frigate, Bainbridge boldly headed for the enemy. There was great risk of getting raked, but fortunately the Java's shots went wild.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Old Ironsides" bearing down on a British Man-of-War]

"Old Ironsides" was now within close range of the Java, and the fire of her heavy cannon soon left the British frigate dismasted and helpless. The British did not surrender, however, until every stick in the ship except a part of the mainmast had been cut away.