We slewed our long gun round and gave the enemy several raking shot, which must have done much damage. The frigate was now fast gaming upon us, and our capture was certain, unless we could get away by superior sailing; so we threw all our guns and shot overboard, started the water, reserving only a small quantity for present use. We now began to drop the frigate, who kept up a continual fire from her bow guns, which fortunately did but little damage, and being anxious to get out of the reach of her shot, we threw over everything that could be spared, hoisted water aloft and wet the sails, and very soon, to our great joy, the enemy's shot fell short of us.
He gave up the chase and tacked ship. Here now was the privateer a thousand miles from Xew York, without guns, short of provisions, arid in the track of English cruisers. A few days after, at about four o'clock P. 31., the man at the mast head sung oat: " Sail, ho!" " Where away?" l- About two points on the weather bow •" " What does she look like?" " She is a large ship, sir, standing to the eastward." The first lieutenant took his glass and went upon the foretop-sail yard, and made her out to be a merchantman. And now what was to be done? We had no guns, and but one boat that would float, but Yankee ingenuity is always equal to any emergency, and we immediately turned to and took a spare top-mast, sawed it into eight pieces, blacked the ends, and stuck them out of the ports.
We then took two empty beef barrels, placed them on the pivot carriage amidships, over which we threw a large tarpaulin. While all this was going on, we had kept along with our eye on the stranger, beimx rather cautious until her true character could be known, for resistance on the part of the schooner was out of the question. About an hour before sunset, the captain of the schooner was resolved to run aloim-side and find out who and what the stranger was. She had two guns on each side run out, and on deck were twenty-five men who could be counted with the glass. We run along-side, keeping clear of his guns, and hailed, and now hoisted the American flag and ordered him to send his boat on board immediatelv, which he did not seem inclined to do.
We could easily sec several spy-glasses pointed at us from persons we supposed to be passengers. Our captain now stepped upon a gun carriage, and with his trumpet, gave the order: " Clear away the midship gun! Stand by your guns in the waist!" The sun had now set, and it would soon be dark, the ship had not yet shortened sail. Our captain then hailed him again: " If you wish to avoid bloodshed, sir, back your maintopsail, and come immediately on board." When to our ■ great relief he backed his main yard, and prepared to lower his quarter boat. Our captain then gave a loud order: 'k Secure your aruns! Call all hands, out boats, sir /" We had hit one boat that would swim, all the others were destroyed bv the frigate's shot.
As soon as we saw the boat shove off* from the ship, a prize crew was selected, and our first lieutenant was the prize-master. He was a fine man, and belonged to New Bedford, (l have forgotten his name.) As soon as his boat struck our side, our boat shoved off with as many men as she could carry, and each with a pistol. The captain stepped on board and was hurried into the cabin. The crew were ordered out of the boat, and immediately sent below. Fifteen men were sent on board the prize, to assist in securing the command, and to get up some fresh water and what provisions could be spared. As the weather was fine, we lay by her until daylight next morning, when all things being arranged, we squared away for New York.
The prize was the Albion, of London, seven hundred tons, Capt. Edward Shields, from Rio Janeiro, with a cargo of coffee and sugar, and bound to London. But, says the narrator, the scene next morning was beyond description. When this poor fellow found how he had been deceived, he began to rave like a madman. He tore out his hair by the handful, saying he was ruined, for all he had in the world was in that cargo. Our captain assured him that his private adventure should be restored to him, which somewhat mitigated his distress. "But," says our captain, " suppose we get taken, and your ship retaken, what will you do with me?" He jumped up, and with a half smile, said, "Upon my life, I should like no better fortune than I could make with you by showing you up in England as a live Yankee." We arrived with the schooner in New York on the fourth of July, and got pretty well in for it, sold my prize ticket for sixty dollars, and shipped for the States service." This is the sailor's story, with a little alteration in the language, and leaving out the usual interladino- of a sailor's yarn.