This brave officer made no secret of his intention to bring the enemy to close quarters whenever a chance offered, and proclaimed throughout the frigate that any man who repented having shipped might receive his discharge.
One man only of the hundreds composing the crew availed himself of the captain's proclamation, under the plausible pretext that he was an Englishman.

But it having been ascertained that so far from being a loyal subject of the king of Great Britain, he was a native-born Yankee with a cowardly spirit, his shipmates were so indignant that they tarred and feathered him, carried him over to New York, placed a placard on his breast, formed a procession, and paraded him through the streets.
There was a great bustle about the wharves in New York, although of a different kind from that which prevailed two months previous in consequence of the embargo.

Clippers of all kinds and sizes were bought up at enormous prices, and rapidly transformed into privateers and letters of marque.

Heavy guns, instead of bales of goods, were dragged through the streets by dray horses, and muskets, cutlasses, and boarding pikes met the eye at every turn.

Fierce-looking men with juvenile mustachios jostled each other in the streets, and even the dapper clerks and peaceable artisans swore deeper oaths and assumed more swaggering airs.