enced.

An English officer, Lieut. Watts, ran to the halliards to haul down
the American flag. But it would seem that the good genius which had
watched over that starry banner throughout the war was loath to see it
disgraced; for the officer had hardly finished his work, when a
grape-shot from his own ship struck him, and he fell dead.

The noise of the battle had by this time died away, and the fresh
breezes soon carried off the smoke that enveloped the combatants. It
was an awful scene thus exposed to view. On the "Chesapeake" were
sixty-one killed, and eighty-five wounded men. On the "Shannon" were
thirty-three dead, and fifty wounded. On a cot in the wardroom lay
Capt. Lawrence, his mortal wound having mercifully rendered him
unconscious, so that he knew nothing of the loss of his ship. Broke
had been made delirious by the fevered throbbing of the wound he had
so long neglected. Everywhere were evidences of carnage and
desolation.

Little time was lost in getting the ships in order after the
surrender. The noise of the hammer and saw was heard in every quarter.
The wounded were taken to the sick-bay, and the bodies of the dead
were committed to the ocean. Floods of water and the heavy holystones
took from the decks the stains of blood. The galley cooks marched up
and down the decks, sprinkling hot vinegar with a lavish hand. The
British prize-crew took possession of the captured ship, and in a few
hours the captor and captive were well on their way toward Halifax.

They reached port on the 7th of June; and the sight of the "Shannon,"
followed by the "Chesapeake" with the British ensign flying proudly
over the stars and stripes, stirred the little city to the utmost
enthusiasm. As the two ships pursued their stately course up the
harbor, the British men-of-war on all sides manned their yards, and
fired salutes in honor of the victory. The thunders of the cannon
brought the town's-people to the water-side, and their cheers rang out
lustily to welcome their conquering countrymen to port.

Capt. Lawrence had died the day before; and his body, wrapped in an
American flag, lay on the quarter-deck of his frigate. Three days
later, his body, with that of his gallant lieutenant Ludlow, was laid
to rest with imposing naval honors, in the churchyard of Halifax. But
his country, honoring him even in the day of his defeat, was not
content that his body should lie in the soil of an enemy's country.
Two months after the batt