ably fell
somewhat to leeward, and exposed the whole of his deck to the fire of
the transport. A tremendous discharge of musketry saluted him as he
passed; and it was almost laughable to witness the haste with which
his crew hurried below, leaving none upon deck except such as were
absolutely wanted to work the vessel.

"The 'Volcano' had by this time filled and gave chase, firing with
great precision at his yards and rigging, in the hope of disabling
him. But, as fortune would have it, none of his important ropes or
yards were cut; and we had the mortification to see him in a few
minutes beyond our reach."

[Illustration: Prison Chaplain and Jailor.]

An exploit of yet another privateer should be chronicled before the
subject of the private armed navy can be dismissed. On the 11th of
October, 1814, the brigantine privateer "Prince de Neufchatel,"
seventeen guns, was encountered near Nantucket by the British frigate
"Endymion,"--the same ship which was so roughly handled by the
"President" in her last battle. About nine o'clock at night, a calm
having come on, the frigate despatched a boarding party of a hundred
and eleven men in five boats to capture the privateer. The latter
vessel was short-handed, having but forty men; but this handful of
Yankee tars gallantly prepared to meet the attack. The guns were
charged with grape and canister, the boarding-nettings triced up, and
cutlasses and pistols distributed to the crew. As the British came on,
the Americans opened fire, notwithstanding which the enemy dashed
alongside, and strove fiercely to gain the deck. But in this they were
foiled by the gallantry of the defenders, who fought desperately, and
cut down the few British who managed to gain a foothold. The conflict
was short, and the discomfiture of the enemy complete. After but a few
minutes' fighting, one boat was sunk, one captured, and the other
three drifted helplessly away, filled with dead and dying. The total
loss of the British in this affair was twenty-eight killed and
thirty-seven wounded. Of the crew of the privateer, seven were killed,
and nine only remained unhurt.

A narrative of the exploits of, and service done by, the American
sailors in the War of 1812 would be incomplete if it said nothing of
the sufferings of that great body of tars who spent the greater part
of the war season confined in British prisons. Several thousand of
these were thrown into confinement before the war broke out, because