How the officers and crew escaped unhurt is almost impossible to conceive.  The poor captain was immediately taken on shore, but only survived his wound a few days.  He had a public funeral, and was followed to the grave by all the Americans in Gibraltar, and very many of the officers of the garrison and inhabitants of the town.

    [Illustration:  “INSTANTLY THE GUN WAS RUN OUT AND DISCHARGED”]

“The ship had a rich cargo of coffee, sugar, and India goods on board, and I believe was bound for Leghorn.  The gunboats belonged to Algeciras and fought under French colors, but were probably manned by the debased of all nations.  I can form no idea how many were killed or wounded on board the gunboats, but from the great number of men on board, and from the length of the action, there must have been great slaughter.  Neither can I say positively how long the engagement lasted; but I should think at least from three to four hours.  To the chief mate too much credit can not be given for saving the ship after the captain was shot.”

This action occurred in 1800, and the assailants fought under French colors, though the United States were at peace with France.  It was fought within easy eyesight of Gibraltar, and therefore in British waters; but no effort was made by the British men-of-war—­always plentiful there—­to maintain the neutrality of the port.  For sailors to be robbed or murdered, or to fight with desperation to avert robbery and murder, was then only a commonplace of the sea.  Men from the safety of the adjoining shore only looked on in calm curiosity, as nowadays men look on indifferently to see the powerful freebooter of the not less troubled business sea rob, impoverish, and perhaps drive down to untimely death others who only ask to be permitted to make their little voyages unvexed by corsairs.

From a little book of memoirs of Captain Richard J. Cleveland, the curious observer can learn what it was to belong to a seafaring family in the golden days of American shipping.  His was a Salem stock.  His father, in 1756, when but sixteen years old, was captured by a British press-gang in the streets of Boston, and served for years in the British navy.  For this compulsory servitude he exacted full compensation in later years by building and commanding divers privateers to prey upon the commerce of England.  His three sons all became sailors, taking to the water like young ducks.  A characteristic note of the cosmopolitanism of the young New Englander of that day is sounded in the most matter-of-fact fashion by young Cleveland in a letter from Havre:  “I can’t help loving home, though I think a young man ought to be at home in any part of the globe.”  And at home everywhere Captain Cleveland certainly was.  All his life was spent in wandering over the Seven Seas, in ships of every size, from a 25-ton cutter to a 400-ton Indiaman.  In those days of navigation laws, blockades, hostile cruisers, hungry privateers,