s conspicuous on the patriotic side: mothers
clasped their infants, whose sires, they thought, had perished in the
fight, and, in silent agony, prayed God to protect the fatherless.
Thus passed an hour of the wildest anxiety and alarm. At last
intelligence was brought that the fire had slackened only for want of
powder; that a supply had since been secured; and that the cannonade
would soon be resumed. In a short time these predictions were
verified, and the air again shook with distant concussions. Thus the
afternoon passed. Sunset approached, yet the fight raged. Slowly the
great luminary of day sank in the west, and twilight, cold and calm,
threw its shadows across the waters; yet still the fight raged. The
stars came out, twinkling sharp and clear, in that half tropical sky:
yet still the fight raged. The hum of the day had now subsided, and
the cicada was heard trilling its note on the night-air: all was quiet
and serene in the city: yet still the fight raged. The dull, heavy
reports of the distant artillery boomed louder across the water, and
the dark curtain of smoke that nearly concealed the ships and fort,
grew luminous with incessant flashes. The fight still raged. At last
the frequency of the discharges perceptibly lessened, and gradually,
toward ten o'clock, ceased altogether. The ships of the enemy were now
seen moving from their position, and making their way slowly, as if
crippled and weary, out of the harbor: and, at that sight, most of the
population, losing their anxiety, returned to their dwellings; though
crowds still lined some of the wharves, waiting for authentic
messengers from the fight, and peering into the gathering gloom, to
detect the approach of the first boat.

The loss of the enemy had been excessive. The flag-ship, the Bristol,
had forty-four men killed, and thirty wounded: the Experiment, another
fifty gun ship, fifty-seven killed, and thirty wounded. All the ships
were much cut up: the two-deckers terribly so; and one of the
frigates, the Acteon, running aground, was burnt. The last shot fired
from the fort entered the cabin of Sir Peter Parker's ship, cut down
two young officers who were drinking there, and passing forward,
killed three sailors on the main-deck, then passed out and buried
itself in the sea. The loss on the American side was inconsiderable:
twelve killed, and about twenty-five wounded. During the battle, the
earnest zeal of the men was occasionally relieved by moments