y
were on their track. But those were not the days of the great guns that
can send huge balls six or seven miles through the air. A mile then was
a long shot for the largest guns, and the Yankee cruisers had made a
fair start.

But before they had gone far Captain Stewart saw that the _Cyane_ was in
danger of being taken, and signaled for her to tack and take another
course. She did so and sailed safely away. For three hours the three big
frigates hotly chased the _Constitution_ and _Levant_, but let the
_Cyane_ go.

Captain Stewart now saw that the _Levant_ was in the same danger, and he
sent her a signal to tack as the _Cyane_ had done. The _Levant_ tacked
and sailed out of the line of the chase.

What was the surprise of the Yankee captain and his men when they saw
all three of the big British ships turn on their heels and set sail
after the little sloop-of-war, letting the _Constitution_ sail away. It
was like three great dogs turning to chase a rabbit and letting a deer
run free.

The three huge monsters chased the little _Levant_ back into the island
port, and there for fifteen minutes they fired broadsides at her. The
prisoners whom Captain Stewart had landed did the same from a battery on
shore. And yet not a shot struck her hull; they were all wasted in the
air.

At length Lieutenant Bullard, who was master of the prize, hauled down
his flag. He thought he had seen enough fun, and they might hurt
somebody afterwhile if they kept on firing. But what was the chagrin of
the British captains to find that all they had done was to take back one
of their own vessels, while the American frigate had gone free.

The _Constitution_ and the _Cyane_ got safely to the American shores,
where their officers learned that the war had ceased more than three
months before. But the country was proud of their good service, and
Congress gave medals of honor to Stewart and his officers.

That was the last warlike service of the gallant _Old Ironsides_, the
most famous ship of the American Navy. Years passed by and her timbers
rotted away, as they had done once before. Some of the wise heads in the
Navy Department, men without a grain of sentiment, decided that she was
no longer of any use and should be broken up for old timber.

But if they had no love for the good old ship, there were those who had;
and a poet, Oliver Wendell Holmes, came to the rescue. This is the poem
by which he saved the ship:

THE OLD IRO