But he remembered his country, and if Boston wanted to rejoice with the victors, it might be of advantage nationally. So he ordered the salute to be answered, and he anchored until the boat could reach him. The worthy mayor of the city came off in the boat, wearing all the trappings of his office. He clambered on deck with the usual awkwardness of a landsman, and bowed very low as he saluted Captain Hull. The naval officer was blunt and honest. He spoke to the point, and never weighed his words long. He hated obsequiousness, and hesitated whether to deal with the mayor courteously or brusquely. But his sense of good manners conquered, and he greeted the citizen with the greatest courtesy. "How long wilt thou wait outside the harbor?" asked the mayor. "One hour. The tide forbids me further delay," was the answer. The mayor descended to the boat, and was rowed back to the city. Every few minutes he forgot his dignity and shouted to fishermen, lightermen and crafts of all kinds: "Get out your flags, England has been beaten." It was surprising how soon the ships in the harbor were decked with bunting. Every flag was flying, and all sorts of things pressed into service. One man tore up his red shirt to make a pennon; women gave up red and blue shawls; children contributed clothing; anything of bright color was utilized, and the scene was almost instantly transformed from the somberness of everyday life to the brilliancy of festival attire. A great flotilla of gayly decorated boats went out to meet and surround the _Constitution_. The flags of surrounding vessels were dipped in salutation as the war-scarred veteran ship made her way to the wharf. The Boston Artillery Company, that organization whose deeds will never be forgotten, assembled on the dock and fired a national salute. As the guns of the _Constitution_ responded, Captain Hull remarked that he fired them with more pleasure than when another vessel was the target. The people needed cheering, for all the news had been of disaster. The British had gained victories on land. The Canadian frontier, near Detroit, had been the scene of American reverses, and the people were beginning to despair. The victory gained by Captain Hull raised the people into an elysium of excitement. England had been empress of the seas, but on her own domain she had been beaten. It was no use for any English apologist to declare the _Guerriere_ to be an inferior ship, for she had been lauded to the skies, and her invulnerability praised by poet and statesman. When the British squadron left the English coast, the London _Naval Chronicle_ took for its motto the distich: "The winds and seas are Britain's domain, And not a sail but by permission spreads." And the _Guerriere_ was praised in the most fulsome language. The people of Boston were almost frantic with joy. When Captain Hull landed he found the city decked with bunting, and the streets crowded with people.