d his frigate, he led a
night expedition of sailors and marines ashore, expecting to surprise
a small body of Maryland militia stationed at Moorfields. Sir Peter's
frolic turned out disastrously; for the Marylanders were on the watch,
and received the invaders with a fierce volley. Sir Peter was
gallantly cheering on his men, when a musket-ball cut the main artery
in his thigh. "They have hit me, Pearce," he said faintly to his
lieutenant; "but it's nothing. Push on, my brave boys, and follow me."
But even thus cheering, he fell back, the words died away in his
throat, and he bled to death before a surgeon could be found. It is
but right to say, that, though he sailed in Cockburn's command, he had
none of the cruel brutality which his admiral too often showed.

On the 12th of September a more serious assault was made upon
Baltimore. The British naval and military forces united in the attack,
which was made by land and sea. A force of nine thousand men,
including two thousand marines and two thousand sailors, was landed
fifteen miles from Baltimore, and under the command of Gen. Ross and
Admiral Cockburn marched gayly inland, never doubting that they would
find the Americans unprepared, and repeat their exploits at
Washington. In this expectation they were sadly disappointed; for the
Maryland militia, aided by a few regulars and seamen, outfought the
British at every point, and checked their farther advance. Among the
slain was Gen. Ross, who was shot down as he was leading the advance
of the British skirmishers. In the mean time, the British fleet had
been taking its share in the engagement by attempting to reduce Fort
McHenry. A large flotilla of frigates, schooners, sloops, and
bomb-ketches entered the Patapsco River on the morning of the 12th,
and, casting anchor out of the reach of the fort's guns, opened a
furious fire. The fort was manned by militia-men and a large
detachment of the gallant sailors from Barney's flotilla. When the
continual falling of shells within the fort told that the enemy had
come within range, the guns of Fort McHenry opened in response. But,
to the intense chagrin of the Americans, it was found that their works
mounted not a single gun that would carry to the enemy's fleet. There
then remained to the garrison only the trying duty of holding their
post, and enduring without response a galling fire from the enemy. All
the garrison stood to the guns without flinching; while the shrieking
shel