The pursuit had lasted all through the short winter's day, and it was now dusk. Seeing that the "Endymion's" tactics must end in his being crippled, Decatur suddenly altered his course to the southward, which compelled the enemy to do the same, and so brought her abeam, and a battle began between the two ships, broadside to broadside, Decatur encouraging and cheering his men, and fighting as steadily as if there were no other enemies in sight. His guns were aimed rather at the "Endymion's" spars than at her hull, seeing that his object was to destroy her power of sailing, and thus his loss in men was far greater than that of the enemy. Nevertheless, after two hours of a running fight the "Endymion" drew out of the battle, and dropped astern to repair her injuries. Decatur now continued on his course, hoping against hope that in the darkness of the night he might yet escape. But his pursuers were close at his heels and never lost sight of him for a moment. So well did he hold his own, that for more than two hours after the fight with the "Endymion" the enemy only gained on him inch by inch. At last, at eleven o'clock, the "Pomone" ranged up alongside, and planting herself within musket-shot on his port bow, she opened fire. At the same moment the "Tenedos" had taken a raking position on his quarter. If this had been the beginning of the action, it would have been right for the commodore to resist the attack, even though his resistance had lasted but a few moments and had accomplished no result. But in his two hours' action with the "Endymion" he had upheld with gallantry the honor of the flag, and with sixty men already killed or wounded it was probable that an attempt to fight the new assailants would only cause a useless slaughter. So he surrendered, and the "President" became from that day forth what she still remains,--a British frigate. It was a defeat indeed, but one which left the vanquished as much credit as the victors. * * * * *