Britons could not endure. The eagles of victory soon perched in triumph
on the mastheads of the American fleet, and Perry had won the battle
which James Madison, then President, said "had never been surpassed in
lustre, however much it may have been surpassed in magnitude."

After the action, Perry returned to the Lawrence, changed the dress of a
common sailor for an undress uniform, that he might appropriately
receive the surrender of the enemy on board the vessel that had been in
the hardest of the fight and had suffered most from it; and that the
remnant of her gallant crew might witness the submission of the foe
which had caused their sufferings.

That relief from apprehension for the safety of the fleet might be given
to General Harrison and the settlers on the widely extended domain about
the Lake, Perry penned and dispatched to that general a hasty note, in
words familiar, and destined to be immortal, telling him "We have met
the enemy and they are ours," and another like hasty note, to the
Secretary of the Navy, informing that officer that, "It has pleased the
Almighty to give to the arms of the United States a signal victory over
their enemies on this lake. The British squadron consisting of two
ships, two brigs, one schooner and one sloop, have this moment
surrendered to the force under my command after a sharp conflict." There
is nothing of the valor of the pen or of the exaggeration of self from
the ink horn in this concise and expressive note.

The enemy's surrender was gracefully received. Perry soon visited the
wounded Barclay, and tendered him every service that it was in his power
to render, and every possible attention was given to the wounded of both
fleets. Then came the roll-call to see who had answered the final
summons to duty on the field of honor, who had received marks of courage