, so off they
went and when they sailed away, young Farragut was almost as much
developed in muscle, and as bronzed by the sun and wind, as were the
friends he left behind him on that island to which he always looked
back as an enchanted land.

Two months later when the _Essex_ was lying quietly at anchor in the
harbour of Valparaiso, and many of her crew happened to be on shore,
two English war vessels bore swiftly down upon the _Essex_ in a very
menacing way, and Captain Porter was afraid they would attack him,
which they had no right to do, for Chili was not at war with either
England or America, and so an American vessel should have been safe
within that port.

One of these English vessels was a frigate called _The Phoebe_ and the
other a sloop named _The Cherub_. The _Phoebe_ passed within fifteen
feet of the _Essex_, when Captain Porter, who was standing on deck,
hailed her, saying:

"If you touch a single yardarm I shall board you instantly!"

The _Phoebe_ passed by without a reply and then both English vessels
anchored at the entrance of the harbour, by doing which they kept the
_Essex_ a prisoner. In this position the vessels remained for several
weeks, when there was a tremendous gale, in which the cables of the
_Essex_ gave way, and she at once began to drift towards the English
ships. Captain Porter decided that this was his chance to escape, and
setting all sail he made for the open sea.

Suddenly something snapped. Down crashed the main topmast, carrying
sails, rigging and even some of the crew into the water. In such a
crippled condition escape was impossible, and the _Essex_ was driven
back again to shore, where she was brought to anchor within pistol shot
of the beach.

The _Essex_ had only four guns that could shoot as far as the cannon of
the English. The _Phoebe_ and the _Cherub_ took a position out of range
of almost all of the guns of the _Essex_, and then poured broadside
after broadside into the unfortunate American.

For two hours and a half the battle raged, the _Phoebe_ throwing seven
hundred eighteen-pound shots at the _Essex_. Captain Porter and his
crew fought bravely until one hundred and twenty-four of their men had
been killed or wounded, and during all this terrible battle, the first
which David Farragut had ever seen, there was no braver officer on the
ship than the little midshipman, who hurried here and there, carrying
messages for the captain, bringing powder for the guns,