The Government of the United States protested against this practice, but as it did not believe much in naval armaments, and never followed up its protests by making a show of force, little heed was paid to them; while England, being in such great necessity, and not over-scrupulous as to the means of relieving it, continued the practice. The American Government then granted to its sailor-citizens passports or certificates of nationality, which were called "protections," but which nevertheless did not always protect. At any rate a man who had not taken out the "protection"--and sailors, as everybody knows, are careless in such matters--was sure to be impressed, whatever evidence he might give of birth or nationality. So the men were seized, and where they could they made complaint, though it often happened that they did not have the chance; and when the complaints reached home, the State Department kept on filing them, and entering its futile protests and arguments and counter-arguments. But still, as might be expected from such a course, the practice of impressment never ceased, until finally there were several thousand native-born Americans serving under constraint in the Royal Navy. On one or two occasions the English had even gone so far as to take seamen out of our ships-of-war, which is perhaps as gross an affront as one nation can offer to another. This was done by Commodore Loring, who commanded a powerful squadron off Havana in 1798, and who removed five men from the sloop-of-war "Baltimore," of twenty guns. As the English force was composed of the "Queen," of ninety-eight guns, and several frigates, they could have sunk the "Baltimore" with a single broadside. So the American ship made no resistance. Gross as it was, this injury did not bring on a war or even reprisals; although reprisals might have been used with good effect, as they were about the same time against France.