A seaman named Jasper P. Breas, who was badly scalded, sprang to his feet, naked to the waist, his jacket and shirt having been removed to dress his wounds, exclaiming: Surrendered!
I must see that with my own eyes before I die.
Before any one could interfere, he clambered up two short flights of stairs to the spardeck, where he was gladdened with the sight of his own flag proudly and victoriously floating in the breeze.
He shouted, Glory to God!
and sank exhausted on the deck.
Poor Jasper died that night, that his country might live.
The Essex fired seventy-two shots from two 9-inch guns during the battle.
In obedience to battle orders, I had instructed the powder boys to keep count of the number of charges served to each gun. Job Phillips, a boy fourteen years old, was powderboy of No. 1 gun. After the action, I asked Job how many shots his gun had fired.
He referred me to a memorandum on the whitewashed casemate; where with a rusty nail he had carefully and accurately