her cables
parted while the crew struggled to get sail on her. As she drifted
seaward, Porter decided to seize the emergency and take the long chance
of running out to windward of the _Phoebe_ and the _Cherub_. He
therefore cut the other cable, and the _Essex_ plunged into the wind
under single-reefed topsails to claw past the headland. Just as she was
about to clear it, a whistling squall carried away the maintopmast.
This accident was a grave disaster, for the disabled frigate was now
unable either to regain a refuge in the bay or to win her way past the
British ship.

As a last resort Captain Porter turned and ran along the coast, within
pistol shot of it, far inside the three-mile limit of neutral water, and
came to an anchor about three miles north of the city. Captain Hillyar
had no legal right to molest him, but in his opinion the end justified
the means and he resolved to attack. Deliberately the _Phoebe_ and
_Cherub_ selected their stations and, late in this stormy afternoon,
bombarded the crippled _Essex_ without mercy. Porter with his carronades
was unable to repay the damage inflicted by the broadsides of the longer
guns, nor could he handle his ship to close in and retrieve the day in
the desperate game of boarding. He tried this ultimate venture,
nevertheless, and let go his cables. But the ship refused to move ahead.
Her sheets, tacks, and halliards had been shot away. The canvas was
hanging loose.

Porter's guns were by no means silent, however, even in this hopeless
situation, and few crews have died harder or fought more grimly than
these seamen of the _Essex_. Among them was a little midshipman, wounded
but still at his post, a mere child of thirteen years whose name was
David Farragut. His fortune it was to link those early days of the
American navy with a period half a century later when he won his renown
as the greatest of American admirals.

In many a New England seaport were told the tales of this last fight of
the _Essex_ until they became almost legendary--of Seaman John Ripley,
who cried, after losing his leg, "Farewell, boys, I can be of no more
use to you," and thereupon flung himself overboard out of a bow port; of
James Anderson, who died encouraging his comrades to fight bravely in
defense of liberty; of Benjamin Hazen, who dressed himself in a clean
shirt and jerkin, told his messmates that he could never submit to being
taken prisoner by the English and forthwith leaped into the sea