The sea was so heavy that the guns of the _Wasp_ frequently dipped under water.
The intention of the Americans was to board, and Lieutenant James Biddle held himself and men ready to take instant advantage of the moment the roll of the sea brought them near enough to do so.
Captain Jones did not believe himself warranted in boarding, since he held the advantage of position, and he issued orders for the men to wait, but their ardor could not be checked.

Among his sailors was one who had been impressed into the British service, where he was brutally treated.

Springing upon his gun, he grasped the bowsprit of the brig, swung himself upon the spar and ran as nimbly as a monkey to the deck of the enemy.

Imitating his enthusiasm, Lieutenant Biddle and his boarders took advantage of a favorable lurch at that moment and sprang upon the deck of the _Frolic_.

There, every man stopped and repressed the cheer that rose to his lips, for the scene was one of the most dreadful that imagination can picture.
The quartermaster stood grimly clutching the wheel, a lieutenant, bleeding from several wounds, was leaning against the companionway, unable to stand without its support, while all along the deck were strewn the dead and dying.