THE WASP'S STING.
"Like the fierce bird of Jove the Wasp darted forth,
And he the tale told, with amazement and wonder.
She hurled on the foe from her flame-spreading arms
The firebands of death and the red bolts of thunder."
Captain Jacob Jones was one of the proudest men in the American navy;
his pride had good foundation, for he had served in the war with
Tripoli and had been a captive among the barbarians of Northern Africa.
When he left the Delaware in command of the U. S. ship _Wasp_, to fight
the British, he determined that his vessel should be as great a torment
to the enemy as the insect after which she was named was to people on
shore.
After a few days' cruising he fell in with the _Lively Bee_, and
learned that the _Frolic_ and _Poietiers_ were cruising about in the
waters nearby.
Not long after a bunch of sails was sighted at some distance.
The most careful examination failed to reveal the character of the
strangers.
Jones was filled with curiosity.
He drew nearer the strange ships and reconnoitered.
The wind was blowing great guns, and a heavy sea was running.
Only the day before, the _Wasp_ had lost her jibboom, with two sailors
who were upon it.
The American seemed thoroughly at home in a storm.
His whole soul was in his work, and he cared not for wind or hurricane.
As he drew near, he saw that the strangers were merchantmen, under the
protection of an English man-of-war.
The merchantmen were well armed, some carrying as many as twelve guns.
Jones knew it would be suicidal folly to attack all at once, so he kept
on a course parallel with the Englishman all that day and through the
night.
Early the next morning the Britisher saw the American, and showed his
teeth.
The Jackies were at work on both vessels, repairing the damages caused
by the storm.
The _Wasp_ ran up the Stars and Stripes.
It was a defiance.
But the Englishman answered by running a Spanish flag up the halliards.
Jones was not deceived, for he knew the frigate to be the _Frolic_, and
the foe was worthy of his steel.
The ships drew near each other.
The sea was rough, the wind high, and both captains were confident that
before an hour had passed one ship would have to strike its flag.
When less than sixty yards away, and both running on the starboard
tack, the action commenced.
Broadsides were exchanged, the _Frolic_ firing three to the _Wasp's_
two.
Great clouds of spray washed over the bows; waves, each one seeming
higher than the last, swept over the forecastle, drenching the sailors
as they stood at their quarters.
As the broadsides thundered forth the sailors cheered as they saw the
damage done by the fire.
The vessels were tossed about like corks, now wallowing in the trough
of the sea, now and again tossed high on the crest of some gigantic
wave.
It seemed marvelous that any damage could be done by the broadsides,
for at one moment the guns would be pointed at the clouds, and the next
submerged beneath the billowy waves.
The two boats were well matched, the gunners equally accurate.
Before five minutes had passed the main topmast of the _Wasp_ was shot
away and hung tangled in the rigging.
The topmen, commanded by skillful middies, tried in vain to clear away
the wreck.
The Britishers cheered, and sang "God Save the King!"
The Americans, though getting the worst of the fight, shouted out the
chorus of "Yankee Doodle."
But when the third broadside fired by the _Frolic_ tore away the
_Wasp's_ gaff and main topgallant mast, it looked as though Jones would
lose the battle, and have to strike his flag.
Not far away the _Lively Bee_ was watching the encounter.
The privateer did not wish to interfere unless the _Wasp_ was in actual
danger, for Captain Vernon had his eyes on one of the merchantmen,
which he hoped to secure as a prize.
To an onlooker it appeared that the British had received no damage.
The _Frolic_ fired when on the crest of the wave and thus tore away its
adversary's rigging, while the _Wasp_ waited until in the trough of the
sea.
The American's shot was aimed at the hull instead of the rigging.
While the fight was raging the two vessels got close together and
fouled.
Yardarm laid to yardarm, and at that very moment the Americans poured
in a terrific broadside.
The guns were not half loaded, for so close were the vessels that in
loading the rammers were shoved right against the side of the _Frolic_.
The men grew almost frantic with excitement.
They shouted and sang, they cursed the Britishers, and reviled the
Union Jack.
The gunners of the _Frolic_ had no time to return the last broadside,
for their ship swung around so that her bow lay against the _Wasp's_
quarter.
"Give 'em a volley!" cried Captain Jones as he just escaped losing his
head from the swinging of the _Frolic's_ bowsprit over the quarterdeck.
Not only one, but a second volley was fired, and the deck of the enemy
seemed to be swept clean.
Then the Americans shouted and cheered.
"Let us board her!" they cried.
The order was given, and the men swarmed aboard.
It was by no means a bloodless encounter, for the contestants fought
like demons, and many a brave sailor breathed his last on that heaving
deck.
But the Britishers could not stem the onrush of Americans, and before
long the Union Jack was struck and the _Frolic_ captured.
Hardly had a prize crew in charge of Lieutenant Biddle been placed
aboard of her, when the man on the lookout sang out:
"The _Poietiers_ is close at hand, and she is heavily armed."
And even as he spoke the heavy boom of a gun was heard.
The _Poietiers_ had signaled the _Wasp_ to lay to.
The _Poietiers_ carried seventy-four guns, and was a formidable enemy.
Her great hull seemed to cast a shadow over the water, and the
jubilation of the Americans was hushed in the solemnity of the coming
contest.