The privateer had in tow a prize which she was anxious to get
into port, but she was forced to cast off the hawser late in the
afternoon and make every effort to escape.

The breeze died with the sun and the vessels were close inshore.
Becalmed, the privateer and the frigate anchored a quarter of a
mile apart. Captain Ordronaux might have put his crew on the
beach in boats and abandoned his ship. This was the reasonable
course, for, as he had sent in several prize crews, he was
short-handed and could muster no more than thirty-seven men and
boys. The Endymion, on the other hand, had a complement of three
hundred and fifty sailors and marines, and in size and fighting
power she was in the class of the American frigates President and
Constitution. Quite unreasonably, however, the master of the
privateer decided to await events.

The unexpected occurred shortly after dusk when several boats
loaded to the gunwales with a boarding party crept away from the
frigate. Five of them, with one hundred and twenty men, made a
concerted attack at different points, alongside and under the bow
and stern. Captain Ordronaux had told his crew that he would blow
up the ship with all hands before striking his colors, and they
believed him implicitly. This was the hero who was described as
"a Jew by persuasion, a Frenchman by birth, an American for
convenience, and so diminutive in stature as to make him appear
ridiculous, in the eyes of others, even for him to enforce
authority among a hardy, weatherbeaten crew should they do aught
against his will." He was big enough, nevertheless, for this
night's bloody work, and there was no doubt about his authority.
While the British tried to climb over the bulwarks, his