Americans were working upon such a line of invention had filled the English with dread and horror, they declared that any one captured while engaged in such a work would be hanged at once without a trial, for they denounced such methods of warfare as "crimes against humanity." But this did not deter an adventurous projector by the name of Mix from trying to rid the bay of its unwelcome visitors. For a long time he had been at work perfecting a "new explosive engine of great destructive powers," and on the 18th of July, at midnight, he dropped down with the tide alone in a small rowboat, and, when within forty fathoms of the _Plantagenet_, he put his torpedo into the water with the intention of having it drift with the tide athwart the flagship's bows. But an alert sentry on one of the guard boats discovered him and hailed; Mix drew his infernal machine into his boat and escaped. Every night for a week the inventor tried his luck, but was spied before he could complete his preparations, and was forced to draw off. But once he so frightened the English officers that they made sail and shifted their anchorage, and upon another occasion the flagship let go a pell-mell broadside, and threw up rockets and blue lights to ascertain the whereabouts of the lone adventurer. On the night of the 24th Mix came very near to accomplishing his purpose, and a contemporary printed account gives such a vivid description of it that it is well worth quoting: "When within one hundred yards the machine was dropped into the water, and at the same moment the sentinel cried, 'All's well,' the tide swept it towards the vessel, but it exploded a few seconds too soon. A column of water full fifty feet in circumference was thrown up thirty or forty feet. Its appearance was a vivid red tinged with purple at the sides. The summit of the column burst with a tremendous explosion, and fell on the deck of the _Plantagenet_ in torrents, while she rolled into the yawning chasm below and nearly upset." Then the account shortly remarks, "She, however, received but little injury." But this early attempt at waging submarine warfare made the British exceedingly weary of anchoring in our ports, which was to our advantage. But to leave this digression and return to the privateers again: justice has not been done them, as we have said. But to take the names of a few and tell of their experiences is perhaps a good idea. Well known were they to the public eighty odd years ago. For instance, the schooner _Atlas_, of nineteen guns, that sailed from Philadelphia soon after war was declared with England--she was famous! Her captain's name was David Moffat, and he was a fearless commander and a "right good seaman." The _Chronicle_ and the _Naval Temple_, published in 1816, give each a short account of one of his encounters with the enemy; to quote from the latter:--