p287  XX.

Last Guns of the Revolution

For four of the five times he had crossed the Atlantic in the Alliance, John Barry had commanded an inferior crew. Now, with an able warrant and enlisted personnel of 266, he began his sixth crossing, on December 9, 1782, with but five commissioned officers, one of whom, old Welch, was "not fit for a Ship of War." The Captain recognized the great handicap under which he sailed, and realized the officers were "not adequate to the Duty of the Stations I shall be obliged to put them in." He sallied forth, nevertheless, because "Necessity knows no Law."

With the wind out of the northeast blowing bitter and cold, the Alliance logged ten knots or better steadily. Her course was west by south across the Bay of Biscay. By December 11, she was well at sea some hundred miles off the northwest tip of Spain, where she veered southward for the long run down to the African coast.

In the late afternoon of that day, a ship was discerned ahead. Barry ordered extra sail clapped on in pursuit. As the frigate gained, the Captain had opportunity to study the quarry. Her tactics puzzled him. She neither altered her course, nor shook out additional canvas. By nightfall, he had drawn near enough to see she had two gun tiers. At ten o'clock, having approached cautiously to within hailing distance, he trumpeted the usual inquiry. There was no response, but, a few minutes later, a guttural voice hailed him in turn. Barry studied her through the night glass, and turned to Welch.

"She's either a neutral, or is confident of her superior force," he said. "In short, I think it the better part of prudence to refrain from firing or making further inquiry."

The Alliance hauled on the wind, and continued her course. Darkness blotted out the larger ship, and the Captain never  p288 learned her identity. Next day in 41° 41′ north latitude, and 13° 20′ west longitude, he overhauled a merchantman bound for Philadelphia. She lay to long enough for him to dash off a note to William West, a banking friend who would appreciate a business tip.

In the next few days came several futile pursuits of distant sail. On December 16, they passed the little island of Porto Santo, and, next day, sighted the island of Madeira. By then, they were about 400 miles off the shore of northwest Africa, with the northern winter behind them and the weather balmy. Taking his departure from Madeira, Barry headed the Alliance westward across the Atlantic, aiming, as he had previously indicated, for Martinico.

The days passed un­event­fully save for some stormy weather. December ended, and the new year of 1783 dawned with "Light Winds & pleasant Weather." On January 2, a sail was spied and chased. They came up in the early afternoon, but found her a neutral — a ship under Ostend colors bound for St. Domingo. Three days later, another sail was discovered, which looked like a two‑decker. Barry hauled his wind to the northwest, and the ship took after him. Within a few hours, the Alliance clearly demonstrated her superior sailing qualities, so the Captain tacked "to have an Opportunity of seeing her Broadsides better." She was a two‑decker, right enough! He promptly hove about into the north. The pursuit continued for more than twenty-four hours. It ended, late on January 6, when a sail appeared off the Alliance's lee bow, and then bore away. She fled, said Barry, on a course "where she must run a thawrtº the Ship in Chase of us as we never seen any more of the Ship."

Waters familiar to the Captain from pre‑war days were entered on January 8. The island of Dominica loomed off to the westward in the early afternoon, the northern tip of Martinico, a half hour later. Steering between them, he veered southward, with gaunt Mt. Pelee off to port. Night had fallen by the time the frigate came to, with her larboard bower anchor, in the  p289 roadstead of St. Pierre. Scarcely had the cable ceased slipping through the hawse-hole, ere Barry was off for shore in the cutter.

* * *

Orders from Robert Morris had been lying at Martinico for long months. They had been sent from Philadelphia the previous October, the Agent of Marine expecting the Alliance to put into that island toward the conclusion of the fall cruise. Morris's letter, dated October 14, was placed in Barry's hands that night in St. Pierre. It contained instructions to proceed to Havana, take in specie for Congress, and make for Philadelphia. Whether or not he was too late to execute the plan, the Captain determined to make the effort.

The Alliance needed water and repairs to the foretop mast, which had been split in a December gale. He arranged for both, and then imparted all the news he had brought from France to the very excited editor of the Martinico Gazette. Most important was the fact that peace preliminaries had been signed, and the editor wrote graphically of how definite word had come from Franklin to Captain Barney, of the General Washington.

"Capt. Barry, the 2d Commodore of the continental marine, and an officer of credit," enthused the editor, "saw this letter in the Captain of the packets possession, they read it over and over several times."

Copies of the Martinico Gazette of January 15, and versions of its account from the mouths of shipmasters sailing from St. Pierre at that time, reached the American continent in the second week of February. Garbled dispatches appeared in many news­papers, from the Pennsylvania Gazette's statement, on February 12, that "hostilities had absolutely ceased in Europe," to the Boston Evening Post's announcement, on February 23, that Barry had arrived at Martinico with a British passport, and word that "Articles of peace were signed on the 22d day of December last."

Unconscious of the furor he had started in motion, Barry proceeded to put the Alliance in shape to resume her voyage. The foretop mast was gotten down, reinforced with hoops, and up‑ended in position. The cutter was kept plying between shore and ship until sufficient water had been stored on board.  p290 Five French hands ran away, but five Americans were shipped in their stead.

Taking advantage of "A Fine Wind about N. E.," the frigate got under way from St. Pierre on the morning of January 13. Her course was northward, past the western shores of Dominica, Guadaloupe and Montserrat, then westward and again north to swing well clear of the British island of St. Christopher. On the afternoon of January 14, Barry ran in close to St. Eustatia, which the French had retaken in the fall of 1781. His was purely a courtesy call. The Alliance stood off and on the island, the Stars and Stripes whipping in the fresh breeze. Presently a coaster came out with "A Number of Gentlemen." The Captain entertained them with a lavish dinner.

Amongst the visitors was another Barry — Captain David Barry, of Walsh's Irish brigade in the French service. He was a kinsman of Jeremiah Teehan, a Montserrat merchant who had been a close friend of John Barry in the days when the little sloop Peggy had plied between Philadelphia and Montserrat in 1773 and 1774. Of the other gentlemen there is no record. The party departed for shore at eleven o'clock that night, young Captain David Barry "in Raptures" about the commander of the Alliance.

Before midnight, the Captain made sail, and, through January 15 and 16, passed between the Virgin Islands and Santa Cruz, speaking a French sloop and a Dutch brig. At noon, on the latter day, the eastern end of Porto Rico bore south, southwest six leagues distant. The Alliance was then in hot pursuit of a vessel fleeing away into the northwest. Barry got within gunshot by two o'clock in the afternoon, and fired several bow guns at her. She hoisted French colors, and replied with some light weapons in the stern. Doubting her display of the French flag, the Captain would have pressed home the attack, but for a warning cry from the masthead:

"Sail ho! Eleven large ships bearing west, northwest!"

His glass showed them to be ships-of‑the‑line and frigates. He hauled his wind to the northeastward, and the fleet gave chase. The pursuit strung along for ten hours, the Alliance tacking several times, and finally losing them around midnight. Later, Barry was to learn he had fled from the Marquis  p291 de Vaudreuil's French squadron bound from Boston to Cape François.

A heavy ship, sighted to the northeast, took after him early on January 17, but soon abandoned the chase. Back on his course, the Captain picked up the Old Cape, on the north coast of St. Domingo, on the evening of January 18, and was off Porto Plata the following morning. Another fleet, numbering seventeen sail, hove in sight in the westward a few hours later. Barry tacked to the northward, and soon ran them out of sight. He had evaded Admiral Hood's squadron, which had been lying off the coast of St. Domingo for a month.

The Captain's troubles were not yet ended. Approaching Cape François, on the morning of January 20, with the island of Tortuga some ten leagues to the southwest, his glass discerned a two‑decker and a frigate off to the northwest.

"We were lying at that time with little or no Wind," Barry said. "The Enemy took a Breeze at N N W which brot them within 2 or 3 Miles of us, when we got the Breeze but it had not so much Force with us as with them till about Noon."

From then until five o'clock, the Alliance showed the pursuers a clean pair of heels. The two‑decker was left far behind, but the frigate kept up the chase until close under the guns of Cape François. After that a pilot came on board, assured the Captain he had escaped from British men-of‑war, and took the frigate into the harbor, where she anchored at sunset. Barry went ashore in the pinnace, feeling as if the whole naval strength of England must have been after him in the seven days between Martinico and Haiti.

* * *

First to meet the Captain on the quay at Cape François was Seth Harding, formerly of the Confederacy, and last heard of as a member of the court-martial at New London. Harding had been captured in a letter-of‑marque, exchanged at Jamaica, and wanted a passage home. Barry welcomed him as a passenger — an experienced officer who might be of service on a ship where experience was at a premium. The Captain remained on shore that night. Next day he engaged five more seamen and a pilot for Havana. He also arranged to replenish the frigate's  p292 water supply. He and Harding were royally entertained, the latter being well known and popular in the thriving French colonial port. Toward midnight of January 21, they boarded ship.

Before departure, Barry wrote to Morris, to report himself on the way to Havana, and hopeful it was not too late "to put your orders in execution." The Alliance was under way by dawn, of January 22, two vessels under convoy. One was a schooner bound for Havana, which soon ventured off alone; the other, the Massachusetts ship Apollo, Captain Alexander Mackay, of six guns and twenty-five men, destined for Virginia.

Twenty-four hours later, to the westward of Tortuga, a ship was observed in the northeast, and, soon after, was seen to be in pursuit. That afternoon, as the Apollo was sluggish, Barry took her in tow. Shortly after, the strange sail gave up the chase. During the night, they negotiated the Windward Passage, and, from January 24 to 28, inclusive, sailed unmolested along the north coast of Cuba. Frequently it was necessary to tow the Apollo, and once Barry chased a sail, but found her to be a coaster.

They were abreast of Matanzas, on the morning of January 29, when signals appeared simultaneously on the frigate's larboard and starboard quarters. Frigates without a doubt! Barry signalled his consort to make all possible sail. The Alliance and Apollo fled westward along the Cuban shore, and, for once, the Massachusetts ship seemed able to hold her own. Toward evening, Captain Mackay, who was nearer the coast, hailed the frigate with word of another ship close under the land. After dark, the Apollo tacked to the northward, and was out of sight by dawn of January 30. The pursuers, however, were visible several miles astern. With every stick of canvas set, the Alliance proceeded literally to run away from them. Both "gave over Chase" in the early afternoon.

Havana, by now, was close at hand. Barry sighted Morro Castle, at the harbor mouth, just at twilight. The pilot maintained headway through the darkness, heaving to at three o'clock in the morning of January 31. At sunrise, they made sail, standing in with colors flying. Gun crews were at their stations, the 12‑pounders in the port battery loaded, without  p293 ball, as the frigate came to anchor with her best bower. A nod from the Captain, and the battery began to fire — echoes reverberating against the masonry walls of the old fortifications — until thirteen guns had roared a salute. Barry had arrived to carry out his orders, if there remained specie at Havana to be conveyed home.

* * *

The specie was still there — 72,000 Spanish milled dollars. But a conveyance was already on hand to receive it in the shape of the twenty‑gun Continental ship Duc de Lauzun, which Robert Morris had acquired recently and dispatched to Havana. In her he had sent two of Barry's closest friends — John Green, lately returned from Mill Prison, as captain, and John Brown, able clerk of the Marine department, to see the money properly counted and stowed on board.

Green and Brown met the Captain, when he came ashore at noon on January 31, and introduced them to their Excellencies, Don Luis de Unzaga, the governor, and Don José Solano, admiral of his most Catholic Majesty's West India fleet. The fleet itself, as Barry had noted when he traversed the harbor, lay in stately repose behind the frowning defenses of Havana, where it had remained ineffectively for the better part of two years. The Spanish grandees were effusive in their welcome and accepted the Captain's invitation to dine on board the Alliance. They told him a tight embargo had been laid upon the port for a most important and secret reason. The secrecy was laughable. Everybody knew the port was to be closed until the Spanish fleet sailed, and that the mission was none other than a proposed juncture of the Spanish and French naval forces at Cape François for a descent upon Jamaica.

When the Governor and his staff, the Admiral and his aides, and a number of other gentlemen went out to the Alliance, on February 1, her crew manned the yards and cheered vociferously. When the party returned to shore, several hours later, the frigate's main battery barked a thirteen gun salute. Quite picturesque and impressive it was, and Barry swelled under the compliments about the splendid discipline he exercised.

As transportation of the specie had been provided for, the Captain concurred with Brown's request that the Alliance convoy  p294 the Duc de Lauzun to Philadelphia. In anticipation of early departure, he moved the frigate up the harbor, had her careened and calked, discovered the copper sheathing "a good deal ragged and Broke" along the upper strips both port and starboard, and added another lieutenant, Robert Caulfield, a Maryland sea captain, who had been a privateersman of note, and was willing to volunteer for one cruise.

When the Alliance and Duc de Lauzun were ready to sail, on February 13, Barry learned the embargo made necessary a formal application to the Governor for permission to depart. He presented his request by letter, including a suggestion that merchantmen bound for the Continent be suffered to take the benefit of the convoy.

M. de Unzaga replied promptly, on February 14. Captain Barry was aware the port was closed under secret instructions from the king, and these instructions made departure inadmissible. Why an embargo should apply to ships-of‑war, Barry could not understand. He renewed his request, on February 15, confining it to the Alliance and Duc de Lauzun, and agreeing that he had been wrong in suggesting that merchantmen sail with him. He was allowed to cool his heels in uncertainty for five days. When M. de Unzaga replied, he indicated he had taken the admiral's advice, and felt that "you should reflect on the emense prejudice that might occur to the common cause of the Allied powers & commerce of Spain if any unlucky accident should happen by the Enemys taking one of the Frigates."

There was naught to do but wait until the sluggish Spanish squadron got under way. In the interim, he had a new coat of paint applied to the frigate, and his powder taken to a hulk to be dried and sifted. John Green utilized the same period to put his guns and movable gear on the Alliance while the Duc de Lauzun was careened and scraped. Most of the time Barry was ashore, and Lieutenant Caulfield succeeded old Welch as senior officer on board. The principal task was to stop desertion. Twenty‑one Spaniards and Portuguese, who had shipped at L'Orient, managed to get away, while only thirteen new hands were added. Finally, liberty from the ship was restricted to six a day, to stop all shore parties if any hands overstayed their time amid the allurements of Havana's dives.

It was March 6 before M. de Solano's fleet — nine ships-of‑ p295 the‑line and sixteen brigs and sloops, each lightly armed fore and aft, began to unmoor and move toward the harbor mouth. Barry and Green had dropped down under Morro Castle near the entrance the day before, and took advantage of their favorable situation to be first to clear the port. The Alliance got under way at nine-thirty o'clock that morning "& proceeded out in Comp. with the Luzerne [Duc de Lauzun]."

* * *

John Barry's anticipation of a day's run under the protection of the Spanish squadron was short-lived. He and John Green had laid to outside the harbor for M. de Solano's ships to emerge. Instead of an orderly departure, however, the Spaniards straggled forth, "it being just night when the last of the Men of War got out." By then, the lighter craft were far to leeward, and the wind from the northeast was squally. Not knowing where his allies were bound, the Captain decided to quit them.

"I'm going to make the best of my way for the Gulf of Florida," he hailed Green. "Make sail and follow me."

Amid continuous rain, the Alliance tacked to the northeastward, and, with reefed sails, stood along upon the last lap of her voyage. Within a few hours, it was necessary to shorten sail to enable the Duc de Lauzun to come up. Before the night ended, the Captain realized he had a sluggish consort, and, considering the precious hard dollars on board her — a fabulous sum in Continental currency — her slowness gave him considerable concern.

In the dawn of March 7, the Spanish fleet was still visible far astern, but by noon was beyond the horizon. Three hours later, with the outer fringe of keys on the Great Bahama bank off in the northeast, a warning cry came from the masthead. Two sail were visible to windward. Barry took a long look at them. While some distance to the southeast, he could see they were large, carried a full press of canvas, and were bearing down upon him. The Duc de Lauzun was considerably astern, as he wore ship and approached her.

"What do you make of the sails to windward, Captain Green?" he asked when within hailing distance.

 p296  "English men-of‑war," Green replied promptly, "and I think we ought to stand more to the northward."

Barry's opinion of his fellow captain dropped. The suggestion was absurd. To continue north would be suicide. Such a course eventually would cause them to haul up to the eastward to weather Cape Florida. That would give the enemy the short angle of the chase. His response scarcely concealed his disgust at Green's recommendation.

"I beg to differ with you," he called. "We will stand to the southwest. That will bring them abaft our beam, and in all probability we can draw them into the Spanish fleet."

His judgment was sound, and was based upon the conviction it was the only way to save the slower-sailing Duc de Lauzun. Perforce, Green accepted the order and wore into the southwest. Anxiously Barry watched his consort, and twice he hove his mizzen sail to the mast so she could draw up. Off astern, the strange sails were looming ominously closer. After nightfall, the Captain came to a resolution which he knew might cost him his ship. Again, he hove to, and, as the Duc de Lauzun came abreast, hailed her:

"Carry all the sail you can. I'll drop astern, and I'll not leave you until I am convinced they are of much superior force."

"They're heavy frigates," Green warned.

"I suppose so," Barry agreed, "but rest assured nothing under a fifty gun ship will make me quit you."

Crew at quarters and the ship in readiness for action, the Captain watched the pursuers coming on, dark spots on a darker ocean. They were almost within gunshot, when, off in the southwest, appeared the lights of the Spanish squadron. The chase ended abruptly, and the Alliance and Duc de Lauzun stood on until they were in the center of their ally's fleet. Dawn brought a ludicrous discovery. Barry told about it later with a chuckle:

"We shortened Sail and kept with the fleet till morning when to our grate surprise we found they Only consisted of the Brigs and Sloops and not a Ship in Sight but the Luzerne [Duc de Lauzun] . . . however they answered our Ends."

He spoke several of them. No one could tell him the whereabouts of M. de Solano's two‑deckers. At ten o'clock that morning  p297 of March 8, the Alliance and Duc de Lauzun took a second departure from the Spaniards. They headed due north this time, and, by noon, Cape Florida bore northwest four or five leagues distant. Through the afternoon and night, Barry found it constantly necessary to shorten sail for his slower consort. By noon of March 9, he had come to a decision. The money on the Duc de Lauzun would be safer on the Alliance. They were standing through the Gulf of Florida about midway between the mainland and Great Bahama Island. Signalling his consort to lay to, he had the pinnace launched, and sent off with a request for Captain Green and John Brown to attend him.

"We held Consultation with respect to the Continental money placed on board the Luzerne [Duc de Lauzun]," Barry reported, "when it was agreed that it should all be removed immediately on board the Alliance but thirteen thousand dollars or thereabouts."

That "Consultation" lasted four hours. From later comments, we gather that decision was not to John Green's liking. By six o'clock that evening, the money had been passed, via the pinnace, from the Duc de Lauzun to the frigate. Then they got under way standing northeast with light winds from the northwest which continued through the night.

* * *

His majesty's two frigates, which had chased Barry and Green back to the Spanish fleet, on March 7, had been joined by a sloop-of‑war. Their orders, on sailing from Jamaica, had been to cruise for an American ship reported to be loading with specie at Havana; such was the perfection of an espionage system which had informed the British of the mission of the Duc de Lauzun. On the morning of March 10, this trio of specie hunters were some thirty leagues southwest of Cape Canaveral, Florida. They were sailing southward in echelon, the thirty‑two gun frigate Alarm, Captain Charles Cotton, leading to windward; the eighteen gun sloop-of‑war Tobago, Captain George Martin, in the center off the Alarm's port quarter, and the twenty-eight gun frigate Sybil, Captain James Vashon, astern to leeward.

Captain Cotton, acting commodore, in the early daylight  p298 was he first to spot two strange sail over his bow. Signal flags rose. "Give chase!" The trio, scenting prey, bore down under a full press of canvas. Advantages of speed and position lay with the Alarm. She outdistanced her consorts, and was several miles in the van, gaining rapidly upon the strangers, who, by now, had turned tail and were fleeing southwesterly.

John Barry had discovered the enemy ahead at six o'clock that morning. At the same time, a sail had been seen far to the southwest, but she was observed to tack and stand from them. The three vessels in the northeast were the Captain's primary concern.

"I took them to be large Ships," he said, "and from the place they was in & the course they were steering I was convinced they were Cruizing Ships and of Course we had no business with them."

He communicated his fears to Green, reassuring the latter, that, as before, he would not quit the Duc de Lauzun until convinced the enemy was of superior force.

"We will try again to reach the Spanish fleet," he called, "so make all sail after me."

The Alliance and her consort wore to the southwest. As usual, the frigate drew rapidly ahead, sailing so much faster than the Duc de Lauzun that Barry ordered some of his light sails taken in. At nine o'clock, Green, about two miles astern, signalled the enemy were British frigates. With most of the money on the Alliance, the Captain conceived it his duty to preserve the frigate, regardless of what might happen to his consort. More sail was clapped on, and signal flags conveyed the message that each vessel was "to Shift for her Self." Both flung out the Stars and Stripes.

More than an hour passed, with the Alliance widening the gap between herself and Green's ship. The foremost British vessel, the Alarm, was about a mile and a half astern to windward of the Duc de Lauzun, the Tobago and Sybil coming up rapidly. Barry saw signal flags flying from his consort. Their purport, a request to speak him, came as a surprise.

"As I found I sailed as fast or rather faster than any of them," he explained later, "I was determined to know what Captain Green wanted with me."

Just before eleven o'clock, Barry clewed up the main sail,  p299 took in his small sails and laid the main and mizzen topsails back. A random fire had broken out between the Duc de Lauzun and the Alarm, but at too great a distance to be effective. When the Alliance shortened sail, the Alarm did likewise. Barry presumed, and rightly so, that the enemy ship desired her consorts' support.

"The Squadron a long way a stern," Captain Cotton wrote in the Alarm's journal, "shorten'd Sail." She lay just a mile to windward, when the Duc de Lauzun came up almost abreast of the waiting Alliance. The Sybil was a mile and a half astern, with the Tobago slightly farther back.

"Ahoy, Captain Green, what do you want?" Barry hailed.

"They're only privateers," Green replied. "We can take them."

For a moment this amazing response stunned the Captain. Then a light dawned. His supposedly good friend Green was deliberately trying to save the Duc de Lauzun at the expense of the Alliance. Barry knew his consort's cargo comprised considerably more than Continental property. We'll let the Captain give his deductions in his own sixty-nine word sentence:

His actual reply to Green did not divulge his contempt for the latter's action.

"I beg to differ with you, Sir," he said. "It is very plain the ship to broadside of us off to windward [the Alarm] is a thirty‑two gun frigate. The other two appear fully as large. I can stay with you no longer. The only way you can get off is to lighten your ship. Throw your guns overboard and put before the wind."

From the Alliance, they watched all but the Duc de Lauzun's stern chasers plunge into the sea. Instead of veering to port to get the wind behind him, however, Green continued his southwesterly course, running parallel with and to starboard of the frigate. His remaining weapons were popping away at the Sybil, which was almost within gunshot astern.

 p300  For about twenty minutes, Barry refrained from leaving his consort, conjecturing in his mind some way of saving her. The answer came from an unexpected source. Ever since the beginning of the fight, he had kept an eye on the vessel in the southwest, which had continued to stand from him. Now he saw she had put about. The frigate to windward suddenly tacked to the northeast. Captain Cotton, of the Alarm, also had seen the distant vessel, and was able to distinguish her French colors. Barry, without this advantage, flung out recognition signals hopefully. He did not believe her British, rather French or Spanish, and decided to stake his chances upon the accuracy of his guess. By engaging the second frigate, now firing rapidly at the Duc de Lauzun, the Captain believed he could give Green opportunity to escape. Barring injury to yards or masts, he felt he could avoid entangling himself with more than one enemy ship.

"Up courses," he commanded. "Helm hard a starboard."

The Alliance swung about, topsails shivering, and bore across between the Duc de Lauzun and the on‑coming frigate. That his opponent was the Sybil, of twenty-eight guns, Barry did not know until long afterwards. Orders were passed forward, "Reserve your fire until we are close aboard," and the Captain, descending from the quarter-deck, went from gun to gun along the starboard battery.

"Not too much haste, my hearties," he cautioned men at each piece. "Dont fire till we're abreast of her. I'll give you the order when we're within half-pistol range."

A shot from an enemy bow gun crashed into the cabin, mortally wounding Shubald Gardener, a master's mate. Splinters injured several others. Barry's black servant, eyes rolling, came bounding across the deck.

"Massa, dat Ingressman's shot hab broke all de china," he wailed.

Barry grinned.

"You rascal, why didn't you stop that ball?"

"Sho Massa," was the chuckling response, "cannon ball must hab room."

Meanwhile, the tense gun crews listened to the discharge of the Sybil's first broadside, and wondered if the command to  p301 return the fire would ever come. Captain Harding, serving in a volunteer station on the main deck, encouraged the men to patience.

Calculating, cool, Barry ordered the main topsail hove to the mast — the last necessary maneuver to bring the enemy frigate abreast. At exactly ten minutes of twelve o'clock, he gave the long-awaited order.

"Open fire!" His sharp voice clove the din of enemy guns.

The smashing broadside, delivered at such close range, wrought havoc on the Sybil. An army lieutenant, serving as a marine officer, was killed, and several men were wounded. The foretop mast was shot away and lost overboard, along with the ensign and truck. Thereafter, both ships fired as rapidly as guns could be loaded and run out. Throughout, the Alliance's guns were better served. Few enemy shots found their mark. The balls from the Sybil did a little damage to sails, spars and rigging. Splinters wounded a few more of the Alliance's crew. Her total casualties were but ten wounded, including Gardener, the master's mate.

Aside from the damage from the first broadside, the Sybil later had her main and foretop gallant studding sails shot away. Captain Vashon claimed a loss of two killed and six wounded. Subsequent reports from Jamaica listed thirty-seven killed and upwards of forty wounded. The truth lies somewhere between these widely differing figures.

Within a half hour, according to young Kessler, whose narrative of the engagement is graphic, "her guns were silenced and nothing but Musketry was fired from her. She appeared very much injured in her hull."

Forty minutes of close fighting, and the Sybil sheered off, tacked to starboard, and stood northeastward in the wake of the Alarm and Tobago, neither of which had attempted to join in the action. Captain Cotton, of the Alarm, in fact, had been flying a signal for his squadron to make off ever since he had identified the ship in the southwest as French. His haste to decamp is rather inexplicable considering the fact that the vessel which alarmed him so was still twelve miles away! The failure of the Alarm and Tobago to support the Sybil certainly raises doubt over a statement attributed years afterwards to Captain  p302 Vashon, namely, that he had never before "received such a drubbing and that he was indebted to the assistance of his consorts."

When the engagement ended, Barry reviewed the damages to the Alliance, found them slight, and, with the Duc de Lauzun, store southwestward to meet the on‑coming Frenchman. She was the Triton, of sixty-four guns. Had she not seen his signal, the Captain wanted to know, and, if so, why had she not come more rapidly to his support? The French captain's excuse was a lame one. Surely, he had seen the signal, but, as his cargo consisted of a half million dollars in gold, he had hesitated, fearful the whole procedure was a sham to decoy him near. In atonement, he proposed chasing the enemy.

"We then tacked and Gave Chace, said Barry, "and at Dark lost sight of them they being about 8 or 10 miles Ahead of the Alliance & the Alliance about Two miles ahead of the french Ship and three ahead of the Luzerne [Duc de Lauzun]."

It was the old story — the sluggish consort far behind. The Captain put back, said farewell to the Triton, and joined the Duc de Lauzun. He summoned Green and Brown on board. The former arrived, belligerent and nasty; the latter, with warm words of praise for Barry's conduct. Accompanying them were three privateer captains, who had taken passage in the Duc de Lauzun at Havana — John Douglass, of New Jersey, and Samuel Stillman and Jonathan Alden, of Connecticut.

Ignoring Green's attitude, Barry insisted the balance of the public money be placed on the Alliance. The Duc de Lauzun, with nothing but a few stern chasers, was no longer a safe place for it. Brown supported the proposal. Green opposed it. They wrangled awhile, but, finally, the latter gave in. The remaining specie came aboard, and two of the Alliance's 9‑pounders were loaned to the Duc de Lauzun. Green departed, his manner so hostile that Barry vowed he would have nothing more to do with him "till he makes me an apology for his cool behavior." The three privateersmen decided to continue their voyage on the Alliance, and seventeen of the Duc de Lauzun's crew were also brought on board. They would be more useful on the frigate than on Green's scantily armed vessel.

The northward course was resumed at dawn of March 11.  p303 They proceeded without incident for eight days. Off Hatteras, on the night of March 18, the Duc de Lauzun vanished.

"The Reason must be best known to him [Green]," Barry reported pointedly. "I am confident he might have kept company with us if he had a mind to and I not being off the Deck the whole night and did not carry more sail than he might have kept up with."

Less than twenty-four hours later, off the Delaware capes, the Alliance ran into a thick fog. The Captain was delighted. Prospects for getting into the bay looked excellent. As he neared Five Fathom bank, east of Cape Henlopen, the fog lifted. Close on board loomed a two‑decker and a frigate. They chased him, but the fog closed in. Barry wore, and again stood shoreward. Fates were against him. Once more the fog lifted to disclose his pursuers a little to windward. This time he fled in earnest, and the Alliance responded with a magnificent burst of speed.

"I hove the Logg myself," said Barry, "& was going 14 Knotts with a great deal of ease."

The enemy ships were lost in the darkness, but Barry gave over thoughts of making Philadelphia. His attempts, however, had afforded a diversion which enabled the vagrant Duc de Lauzun to slip unobserved into the Delaware that night. The Captain, coming to the conclusion the coast was lined with British war vessels, determined to make for Rhode Island. At three o'clock in the afternoon of March 20, he dropped anchor off Newport. It was a bright sunshiny day, and his spirits were in tune with the weather. The Alliance and her precious cargo were safe!

Three days later, on March 23, a French sloop-of‑war hauled into a wharf at Chester, in the Delaware river, and an express sped off to Philadelphia with the momentous news that a treaty of peace had been ratified, on February 3, recognizing the independence of the United States. John Barry had fought the last engagement of the Revolution more than a month after the war officially had ended!

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