Commodore Rodgers with his younger officers stood on the forecastle deck with glasses leveled to see the effect of the shot from the next gun on the deck beneath them. It was in charge of Lieutenant Gamble. On the match being applied, it burst. The Commodore was thrown into the air and his leg broken by the fall. Matthew Perry was wounded, several of the sailors were killed, and the forecastle deck was damaged badly. Sixteen men were injured by this accident. The firing on the American ship ceased for some minutes, until the ruins were cleared away, and the dead and wounded were removed. Meanwhile the stern guns of the _Belvidera_ were playing vigorously, and, during the whole action, this busy end of the British vessel was alive with smoke and flame. No fewer than three hundred shot were fired, killing or wounding six of the _President’s_ crew though hurting the ship but slightly, notwithstanding that, for two and a half hours, she lay in a position favorable for raking. Having no pivot guns, but hoping to cripple his enemy by a full broadside, Commodore Rodgers, when the _President_ had forged ahead, veered ship and gave the enemy his full starboard fire. Failing of this purpose, he delivered another broadside at five o’clock, which was as useless as the other. He then ordered the sails set and continued the chase. To offset this advantage in his enemy, the British captain, equal to the situation, ordered the pumps to be manned, stores, anchors and boats to be heaved overboard to rid the ship of every superfluous pound of matter. Fourteen tons of water were started and, lightened of much metal and wood, the British ship gained visibly on her opponent. This continued until six, when the wind, being very light, Rodgers, in the hope of disabling his antagonist, “yawed” again and fired two broadsides. These, to the chagrin of the gallant commodore, fell short or took slight effect. At seven o’clock, the _Belvidera_ was beyond range and, near midnight, the chase was given up. The escaping vessel got safely to Halifax carrying thither the news that war had been declared and the Yankee cruisers were loose on the main. Instead of the electric cable which flashes the news in seconds, the schooner _Mackerel_ took dispatches, arriving at Portsmouth July 25th. Following the trail left in the “pathless ocean” by the crumbs that fell from the British table,—fruit rinds, orange skins and cocoa-nut shells, the American frigate followed the game until within twenty-four hours of the British channel. It was now time to be off. The West India prize was lost. Turning prow to Maderia, Funchal was passed July 27th. Sail was then made for the Azores. Few ships were seen, but fogs were frequent. Baffled in his desire to meet an enemy having teeth to bite, Rodgers would have still kept his course, but for a fire in the rear. An enemy, feared more than British guns, had captured the ship.