Perry, at Put-in-Bay. The action
itself is by no means the most impressive part of the wonderful story
of that great victory. Perry had not only to cope with the British in
waters where they had been undisputed masters, but he had to create
the means of doing so. He brought ship builders, naval stores, guns and
ammunition, as well as sailors for his fleet, four hundred miles through
the wilderness of New York to the wilderness at Erie, Pennsylvania, and
there he hewed out of the forest the stuff which he wrought almost alive
into his ships. On the 1st of August he was ready to sail with two large
vessels of twenty guns each, and seven smaller craft carrying fourteen
guns in all. With these, he met the enemy's force of six vessels
carrying sixty-four guns, and on the beautiful sunny morning of the 10th
of September the famous fight took place. The Americans at first had
the worst of it; the British guns were of longer range, and Perry's
flag-ship, the _Lawrence_, was so badly disabled that he had to abandon
it for the _Niagara_, The _Lawrence_ was in fact an unmanageable wreck;
her decks were streaming with blood, but nothing broke the awful order
of the carnage. The men fell at their guns; if wounded, they were
carried below; if killed, they were left where they dropped, while
others took their places.

[Illustration: Admiral Perry on Lake Erie 196]

Perry hauled down his colors with his own hand, and with his flag under
his arm was rowed to the Niagara through a storm of musketry. Once on
board this vessel, he began to change defeat into victory, and after
a fight lasting more than three hours in all, he could send to General
Harrison his memorable dispatch, "We have met the enemy and they are
ours."

The next day the mournful sequel to this tragedy followed, when the
crews of both fleets, victors and vanquished, joined in burying their
dead on the shore of the bay. The sailors slain in the battle had been
already sunken in the lake, but now to the sound of the minute guns from
the ships, with the sad music of funeral marches, the measured dip of
oars, and the flutter of half-masted flags, the last sad rites were paid
to the fallen officers. Perhaps the Indians under Tecumseh who had seen
with stupid dismay the great battle of the rival squadrons, witnessed
this pathetic spectacle too, before they sullenly withdrew into Canada
after Proctor's army. There Harrison pursued them, and in his victory
on the banks of the