Our sheriff[5] went and warn’d Their captain, o’er and o’er, To keep in sight the bounds of right, And not to plunder more. The captain waved his hand, Said he: “The fleet has made A vow devout to carry out The English ‘Acts of Trade.’”[6] Judge Hopkins[7] wrote him then: “Our men demand their due.” “I write because you break our laws,” Wrote Governor Wanton[7] too. The captain bade them go To Boston with their plea; “Not his affair; the admiral[7] there Had sent the ship to sea.” And then he turn’d away. One heard him mutter near: “I think I see the one they fee[8] Ship back his bounties here.” The judge and governor wrote The admiral, who but swore His fleet would hang[9] the island gang, If they should vex him more. “The navy[10] know their trade,” His clerk to Wanton wrote; “In mere pretence and insolence[11] You board the sovereign’s[12] boat.” Wrote Wanton: “We shall ask The throne[13] to judge your note; And every time you hint of crime,[13] Shall board the sovereign’s boat. “The English crown should serve The English people’s cause, And honor those, nor make them foes, Who stand by English laws.” But months and months went on. The cruiser fired away. None plied an oar, lived near the shore, But feared to be her prey.[4] Cried Captain Lindsey[14] then: “This outrage none should bide! Rhode Island grit must yet outwit, And trip the scoundrel’s pride. “He knows my packet here, And where I sail, and why; And if he will may sink me, still His guns will I defy. “If down we go, the law, Will float to stand upon; If that go too, this case is through; But, Britain, more anon!” So high his flag[15] he flew; And wide his jib he spread. The cruiser fired; her crew grew tired, Her captain wroth and red. “All hands aloft!” he cried; “All sail!” and at the words, The masts were fill’d with sailors drill’d To climb and cling like birds. Wide flew each flapping sheet, And sagg’d and bagg’d the gale, And cloud-like lash’d the waves that dash’d As if they felt a flail. When off of Nauquit[16] Point, Shrewd Lindsey knew his ground; He steer’d afar, and clear’d the bar; And then the ship swung round.[16] Up toss’d her canvas high; And dipp’d, as round she ran, The saucy way that seems to say Now catch me if you can. The cruiser’s captain look’d, And mouth’d an awful oath: “Now catch I not, let fire and shot Or bottom catch us both. “Mind not the bar,” he cried, “Straight on! With depth to spare,[15] The tide is high, and, sailing by, We head them off up there.”