We had scarcely left this island before the cry of “Sail ho!” arrested every ear. Supposing her to be a large merchantman, we made towards her; but a nearer approach made it doubtful whether she was an Indiaman or a man of war. The captain judged her to be the latter, and tacked ship immediately. He was unwilling to place himself in the situation of an American privateer, who, mistaking a seventy-four for a merchantman, ran his ship close alongside, and boldly summoned her to haul down her colors. The captain of the other ship coolly replied, “I am not in the habit of striking my colors.” At the same moment the ports of his ship were opened, and disclosed her long ranges of guns, yawning over the decks of the privateer. Perceiving his mistake, the privateer, with admirable tact and good humor, said, “Well, if you won’t, I will,” and pulling down his bunting, surrendered to his more powerful foe. To avoid such a mistake as this, our captain made all sail to escape the coming stranger, which was now bearing down upon us under a heavy pressure of canvas, revealing, as she gained upon our little brig, that she bore the formidable character of a seventy-four gun ship, under English colors. Of course, fighting was out of the question. It would be like the assault of a dog on an elephant, or a dolphin on a whale. We therefore crowded all possible sail, threw our guns, cables, anchors, hatches, &c., overboard, to increase her speed. But it soon became apparent that we could not escape. The wind blew quite fresh, which gave our opponent the advantage: she gained on us very fast. We shifted our course, in hopes to baffle her until night, when we felt pretty sure of getting out of her way. It was of no use, she still gained, until we saw ourselves almost within gun-shot of our opponent. In this extremity, the captain ordered the quartermaster, George Watson, to throw the private signals overboard. This was a hard task for the bold-hearted fellow. As he pitched them into the sea, he said, “Good-bye, brother Yankee;” an expression which, in spite of their mortifying situation, forced a smile from the lips of the officers. The sound of a gun now came booming through the air. It was a signal for us to heave to, or to look out for consequences. What might have been, we learned afterwards, for a division of the crew of the seventy-four had orders to sink us if we made the least show of resistance. Finding it useless to prolong the chase, our commander reluctantly ordered the flag to be struck. We then hove to, and our foe came rolling down upon us, looking like a huge avalanche rushing down the mountain side to crush some poor peasant’s dwelling. Her officers stood on her quarter deck, glancing unutterable pride, while her captain shouted, “What brig is that?” “The United States brig _Siren_,” replied Captain Nicholson. “This is his Britannic Majesty’s ship _Medway_!”[22] he answered. “I claim you as my lawful prize.”