“Cease to make yourself so conspicuous, sir, an’ you shall see how readily we will obey the lightest order you choose to give, even though knowin’ we go to our death. It is your life, not ours, which is of importance this day.” The gallant young officer looked at us for an instant as if minded to administer some sharp reproof, and then I, who observed him closely, saw the moisture gathering in his eyes as he said in a low tone:-- “You be brave lads, all; and at such a moment as this there shall be no question of authority.” Whereat he seated himself by Alec’s side, and the dear lad clasped his brother’s neck closely as he looked at me with pride beaming from his eyes. The bunting was unwound from around the hero’s shoulders, and while he presented quite as fair a target for the bullets, it did not seem to us that he offered the enemy as much of an advantage. Then we bent ourselves to the oars once more, pulling with every ounce of strength that could be forced from our muscles, and heading straight toward the _Niagara_ whereon was Captain Elliott, hugging to his heart the belief that at last he was the sole commander of the American squadron. It is not for such as me to criticise the doings of one whom the government had placed high in command, yet I say now, as I have a thousand times since that terrible yet glorious day, that the commander of the _Niagara_ kept aloof from the heat of battle with no other idea in his mind save that he might rise to fame over the dead body of our commodore. To look back now in my mind’s eye on what I saw then, it seems like relating the story of some miracle to say that we came out of that murderous fire, pulling alongside the _Niagara_ in safety. Our boat was literally riddled with bullets, and yet not one of us had received a wound. Every oar was shattered, but we worked with such timber as remained, until our hero had been put in a position which enabled him to win the day. Even now, the proudest memory of mine is that I did my share in winning the battle of Lake Erie, timorous lad though I am. It was Captain Elliott himself who met Commodore Perry at the _Niagara’s_ gangway, and he stared as if facing a ghost, when our commander saluted him ceremoniously, for he believed him dead. “How is the day going, sir?” Elliott asked, as soon as he could control his voice sufficiently to speak. “Badly, Mr. Elliott, badly. I have lost nearly all my men; the _Lawrence_ is a wreck, and I am transferring my flag and the banner to this ship. What are the gunboats doing so far astern? Why do they not bear their full share of the burden?” “With your permission I will go to ascertain the reason, and bring them up.” “Very well, sir. Lose no time, and see to it that they come to close quarters without delay.”