It was the sight of the few sticks that are
left of the frigate Congress, stranded near the shore,--and still more,
the masts of the Cumberland rising midway out of the water, with a
tattered rag of a pennant fluttering from one of them. The invisible
hull of the latter ship seems to be careened over, so that the three
masts stand slantwise; the rigging looks quite unimpaired, except that a
few ropes dangle loosely from the yards. The flag (which never was
struck, thank Heaven!) is entirely hidden under the waters of the bay,
but is still doubtless waving in its old place, although it floats to and
fro with the swell and reflex of the tide, instead of rustling on the
breeze. A remnant of the dead crew still man the sunken ship, and
sometimes a drowned body floats up to the surface.
That was a noble fight. When was ever a better word spoken than that of
Commodore Smith, the father of the commander of the Congress, when he
heard that his son's ship was surrendered? "Then Joe's dead!" said he;
and so it proved. Nor can any warrior be more certain of enduring renown
than the gallant Morris, who fought so well the final battle of the old
system of naval warfare, and won glory for his country and himself out of
inevitable disaster and defeat.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183