washed men overboard. But she made repairs and stood bravely after a
British convoy which was escorted by the eighteen-gun brig _Frolic_,
Captain Thomas Whinyates. The _Frolic_, too, had been battered by the
weather, and the cargo ships had been scattered far and wide. The _Wasp_
sighted several of them in the moonlight but, fearing they might be war
vessels, followed warily until morning revealed on her leeward side the
_Frolic_. Jacob Jones promptly shortened sail, which was the nautical
method of rolling up one's sleeves, and steered close to attack.

It seemed preposterous to try to fight while the seas were still
monstrously swollen and their crests were breaking across the decks of
these vessels of less than five hundred tons burden. Wildly they rolled
and pitched, burying their bows in the roaring combers. The merchant
ships which watched this audacious defiance of wind and wave were having
all they could do to avoid being swept or dismasted. Side by side
wallowed _Wasp_ and _Frolic_, sixty yards between them, while the cannon
rolled their muzzles under water and the gunners were blinded with
spray. Britisher and Yank, each crew could hear the hearty cheers of the
other as they watched the chance to ply rammer and sponge and fire when
the deck lifted clear of the sea.

Somehow the _Wasp_ managed to shoot straight and fast. They were of the
true webfooted breed in this hard-driven sloop-of-war, but there were no
fair-weather mariners aboard the _Frolic_, and they hit the target much
too often for comfort. Within ten minutes they had saved Captain Jacob
Jones the trouble of handling sail, for they shot away his upper masts
and yards and most of his rigging. The _Wasp_ was a wreck aloft but the
_Frolic_ had suffered more vitally, for as usual the American gun
captains aimed for the deck and hull; and they had been carefully
drilled at target practice. The British sailors suffered frightfully
from this storm of grape and chain shot, but those who were left alive
still fought inflexibly. It looked as though the _Frolic_ might get
away, for the masts of the _Wasp_ were in danger of tumbling over the
side. With this mischance in mind, Captain Jacob Jones shifted helm and
closed in for a hand-to-hand finish.

For a few minutes the two ships plunged ahead so near each other that
the rammers of the American sailors struck the side of the _Frolic_ as
they drove the shot down the throats of their guns. It was literally
mu