It was the morning of December 12, 1813, when we got under way, amid the booming of the guns from Fort Madison, and I venture to say there was not a man in either ship, whether officer, ordinary seaman, or marine, who did not wish we might have remained there a few weeks longer, providing it could be done safely and honorably. The prizes were left under the guns of the fort, for now we were going out to meet the foe in battle, and could not be bothered with such as they. The _Essex Junior_ and the frigate were to perform the hard work, receive the British fire, and then, if we were successful, which hardly seemed probable, would return to take our captured craft to a home port. By nightfall the island was lost to view in the distance, and on the vast expanse of the ocean nothing could be seen by us save the good frigate _Essex_ and her namesake and consort, _Essex Junior_. Now let me set down something which I have copied from a yarn spun by an old sea-dog[3] who can jockey a spar or make a book with equal ease:-- "Up to this time not a dollar had been drawn to meet the expenses of the frigate. The enemy had furnished provisions, sails, cordage, medicines, guns, anchors, cables, and slops. A considerable amount of pay even, had been given to the officers and men, by means of the money taken in the _Nocton_. Thus far the cruise had been singularly useful and fortunate, affording an instance of the perfection of naval warfare in all that relates to distressing an enemy, with the least possible charge to the assailants; and it remained only to terminate it with a victory over a ship of equal force, to render it brilliant. It is, perhaps, a higher eulogium on the officers and crew of this memorable little frigate to add, that while her good fortune appeared at last to desert her, they gave this character to their enterprise by the manner in which they struggled with adversity." On this our first evening at sea, after so long a stay in port, Master Hackett was unusually agreeable and friendly with us lads who had done our best toward saving his life, whether that best was ill-advised or opportune. Instead of smoking in the company of the other old sea-dogs, he joined us near No. 1 gun, and there began to hold forth on the "luck of the _Essex_" as if believing we needed heartening now that we were pressing forward to meet an enemy of equal or greater strength than our own. "You lads haven't made quite as bad a fist of sailorin' as I counted on when you first came aboard," he began. "You've given good attention to your duties, an' when next you ship, I reckon it should be as ordinary seamen--" "Providing we ever get a chance to ship again," Phil interrupted. "It seems to be the opinion among all hands that we're on our last cruise."