RPEDOES. -- FULTON'S STEAM FRIGATE. -- ACTION BETWEEN THE
"CHESAPEAKE" AND "SHANNON."

While the "President" was thus roaming the seas, almost within sight
of the shores of the British Isles, events were occurring along the
American coast which were little likely to raise the spirits of the
people of the United States. From the "President," the "Congress," the
"Essex," and the smaller vessels that were upholding the honor of the
flag upon the ocean, they could hear nothing. But worse than this was
it for the good people of New York or Boston to go down to the
water-side and see stanch United States frigates kept in port by the
overwhelming forces of the enemy, that lay watchfully outside the
harbor's mouth.

For there was no doubt about it: the blockade was daily becoming
closer; and in the months of April and May a ship would have found it
a hard task to run out of New York Harbor without falling into the
hands of the British fleet stationed there. But, at that very time,
three stout men-of-war floated on the waves of that noble bay, under
the command of an officer little used to staying quietly in port in
time of war. The officer was Stephen Decatur: and the ships were the
flag-ship "United States;" the captured "Macedonian," repaired, and
flying the stars and stripes, under the command of the gallant Capt.
Jacob Jones; and the sloop-of-war "Hornet," Capt. Biddle.

With this force under his command, Decatur burned with the desire to
get to sea. The watchfulness of the British at the Narrows made it
useless to think of escaping that way: therefore, he determined to
pass up the sound, and reach the ocean by way of the opening between
Montauk Point and Block Island. At the very outset of this voyage,
however, was a serious obstacle. Through the narrow channel of the
East River, between Ward's Island and the Long Island shore, the tides
rushed with a mad speed and turbulence, that had won for the strait
the significant name of Hell Gate. The United States Government had
not then bent its energies to undermining and blowing into bits the
jagged rocks that at low tide reared their crests above the swirling
eddies. With its tides like mill races, and rocks hidden beneath the
treacherous water, Hell Gate was a fearful place for any ship to make
its way through with the uncertain aid of sails alone. Still greater
were its dangers for the ponderous and deep-laden men-of-war, that
required deep water and plenty of sea-