This was completed by four A.M., when we made the signal, and kept on the weather quarter of the frigate.  I took a couple of hours’ sleep, was called at six, dressed myself, and prepared to go on board at half past seven.  I heard her drum and fife beat to quarters, the sweetest music next to the heavenly voice of Emily, I had ever heard.  The tears rolled down my cheeks with gratitude to God, for once more placing me under the protection of my beloved flag.  The frigate hove-to; soon after, the gig was lowered down, and came to fetch me; a clean white cloak was spread in the stern sheets:  the men were dressed in white frocks and trousers, as clean as hands could make them, with neat straw hats, and canvas shoes.  I was seated in the boat without delay, and my heart beat with rapture when the boatswain’s mate at the gangway piped the side for me.

I was received by the captain and officers with all the kindness and affection which we lavish on each other on such occasions.  The captain asked me a thousand questions, and the lieutenants and midshipmen all crowded round me to hear my answers.  The ship’s company were also curious to know our history, and I requested the captain would send the gig back for Thompson, who would assist me in gratifying the general curiosity.  This was done, and the brave, honest fellow came on board.  The first question he asked was, “Who fired the first shot at the prize?”

“It was Mr Spears, the first lieutenant of marines,” said one of the men.

“Then Mr Spears must have my allowance of grog for the day,” said Thompson; “for I said it last night, and I never go from my word.”

“That I am ready to swear to,” said Captain Peters, of the privateer:  “I have known men of good resolutions, and you are one of them; and I have known men of bad resolutions, and he was one of them whom you sent last night to his long account; and it was fortunate for you that you did; for as sure as you now stand here, that man would have compassed your death, either by dagger, by water, or by poison.  I never knew or heard of the man who had struck or injured Peleg Oswald with impunity.  He was a Kentucky man, of the Ohio, where he had ‘squatted,’ as we say; but he shot two men with his rifle, because they had declined exchanging some land with him.  He had gouged the eye out of a third, for some trifling difference of opinion.  These acts obliged him to quit the country; for, not only were the officers of justice in pursuit of him, but the man who had lost one eye kept a sharp look out with the other, and Peleg would certainly have had a rifle ball in his ear if he had not fled eastward, and taken again to the sea, to which he was originally brought up.  I did not know all his history till long after he and I became shipmates.  He would have been tried for his life; but having made some prize money, he contrived to buy off his prosecutors.  I should have unshipped him next cruise, if it had pleased God I had got safe back.”