But a few minutes after, the cry of "the Commodore is killed," again passed through the ship. Every eye was instantly turned to a group of officers gathered around Macdonough, who lay in the scuppers, between two guns, covered with blood. He had been knocked clean across the ship, with a force sufficient to have killed him. Again he revived, and limping to a gun, was soon coolly hulling his antagonist. Maimed and suffering, he fought on, showing an example that always makes heroes of subordinates. At length every gun on the side of his vessel towards the enemy was silenced, but one, and this, on firing it again, bounded from its fastenings, and tumbled down the hatchway. Not a gun was left with which to continue the contest, while the ship was on fire. A surrender, therefore, seemed inevitable. Macdonough, however, resolved to wind his ship, so as to get the other broadside to bear. Failing in the first attempt, the sailing-master, Brum, bethought him of an expedient, which proved successful, and the crippled vessel slowly swung her stern around, until the uninjured guns bore. The Confiance, seeing the manoeuvre, imitated it, but she could not succeed, and lay with her crippled side exposed to the fire of the Saratoga. In a short time not a gun could be brought to bear. Further resistance was therefore useless, and she surrendered. She had been hulled a _hundred and five times_, while half of her men were killed and wounded. Captain Downie had fallen some time before, and hence was spared the mortification of seeing her flag lowered. The Eagle, commanded by Capt. Henley, behaved gallantly in the engagement, while the Ticonderoga, under Lieutenant Cassin, was handled in a manner that astonished those who beheld her. This fearless officer walked backward and forward over his deck, encouraging his men, and directing the fire, apparently unconscious of the balls that smote and crashed around him. His broadsides were so incessant, that several times the vessel was thought to be on fire. The surrender of the Confiance virtually terminated the contest, which had lasted two hours and a quarter; and as flag after flag struck the galleys took to their sweeps and escaped. In the midst of this tremendous cannonade, came, at intervals, the explosions on shore. The first gun in the bay, was the signal for Prevost on land, and as the thunder of his heavy batteries mingled in with the incessant broadsides of the contending squadrons, the very shores trembled, and far over the lake, amid the quiet farm-houses of Vermont, the echoes rolled away, carrying anxiety and fear into hundreds of families. Its shore was lined with men, gazing intently in the direction of Plattsburgh, as though from the smoke that rolled heavenward, some tidings might be got of how the battle was going.