“Ranging ahead of the vessels on the starboard, Perry rounded to and raked the _Detroit_ and _Queen Charlotte_. Close and deadly was his fire upon them with great guns and musketry. Meanwhile the _Lawrence_, having drifted out of her place in the line, her position against the _Detroit_ was taken by the _Caledonia_; the latter’s place in line, as opposed to the _Hunter_, was occupied by the _Trippe_, the two vessels being commanded by Captain Turner and Lieutenant Holdup. These gallant young officers had exchanged signals to board the _Detroit_ when they saw the _Niagara_ with the commodore’s pennant bearing down to break the British line. Turner followed closely with the _Caledonia_; but the freshening breeze having brought up the _Somers_ under Mr. Almy, the _Tigress_, under Lieutenant Concklin, and the _Porcupine_, under Acting-Master Senat, the whole American squadron, excepting the _Lawrence_, was for the first time engaged in the conflict. The fight was terrible for a few minutes, and the combatants were completely enveloped in smoke.” How long we were engaged after all the ships, save the poor wounded _Lawrence_, were brought into the conflict, I cannot say; so far as my own knowledge is concerned, it might have been five minutes, or as many hours, for I ceased to exist as a distinct human being; but had become simply a fraction, wherein the whole was the crew of the _Niagara_. It so chanced that when the cloud of smoke lifted so that we might be able to distinguish objects at a distance, Alec Perry was standing by my side, having come forward with some order for his brother, and at that instant the British flag-ship, the _Detroit_, was lying plainly within our range of vision. “We have at least given _her_ a lesson!” Alec said, pointing to the shattered spars and fragments of rigging that had been cut by our shot, and even as we looked the British ensign was lowered from the masthead, fluttering in the breeze as it came nearer and nearer the deck, until I distinctly saw one of the seamen gather it up in his arms. During an instant the full significance of this act escaped me. I stood, with my arm linked in Alec’s, wondering what it all meant, when a great cheer rose from round about us, echoed by the crews of all the other vessels near at hand. Then we knew that the _Detroit_, like the _Lawrence_, was out of the fight. “We have whipped one of them!” Alec cried in glee, clapping his blood-stained hands childishly. “Commodore Barclay’s ship has given up the fight, and now we shall see if he has pluck enough to transfer his flag in the heat of battle, as did my brother!” At that instant, and when the crew of every gun was working with feverish haste to reload that they might take advantage of this first sign of submission, there came from the quarterdeck the command, loud, triumphant, and cheery:-- “Hold your fire, lads! The enemy is whipped!”