Jacob Jones, of the United States Navy, was a native of Kent County, in the State of Delaware. He rose rapidly through the various grades of the service, attracting notice by his steadfastness and attention to duty, and in 1811 he was transferred to the command of the Wasp, a tidy sloop of war then mounting eighteen 24-pound carronades. She was a fast sailer, given any wind or weather.

In the spring of 1812, Captain Jones was despatched to England with communications to our minister at the Court of St. James. After fulfilling his mission he immediately set sail for America. The declaration of war between England and this country took place while the Wasp was on the high seas on her returning voyage; but as soon as he had landed, the news greeted her commander, and he was eager to put to sea again.

Captain Jacob Jones knew his ship, he knew his crew, and he rejoiced in having about him a set of young officers devoted to the service. Their names were James Biddle, George W. Rogers, Benjamin W. Broth, Henry B. Rapp, and Lieutenants Knight and Claxton, and they were soon destined to win laurels and glory for their country.

The first short cruise yielded no adventure of importance, but on the 13th of October the Wasp left the Delaware and two days later encountered a heavy gale, during which her jib-boom was unfortunately carried away and two of her people lost overboard. For some hours she was thrown about like a shuttlecock, and all hands were called time and again to shorten sail. The night of the 17th the sky cleared and the stars shone brightly. To Captain Jones’s surprise several sail were reported as being close at hand to the eastward. They were clearly seen through the night-glass to be large, and apparently armed. Jones stood straight for them, and gave orders to lay the same course that the strangers were then holding, and so they kept until dawn of the next day, which was a Sunday.

A heavy sea was running, and the Wasp, close-hauled, crept up to windward of the fleet that she had followed through the night. At the beginning of the early morning watch they were made out to be four large ships and two smaller vessels under a spread of canvas, all keeping close together.

But what was more interesting to the eager American crew was a sturdy sloop of war, a brig, that was edging up slowly into the wind, evidently guarding the six fleeing vessels to leeward—the sheep-dog of the flock.

The Wasp, having the weather-gage, swung off a point or so to lessen the distance.

As the stranger brig came nearer she heeled over until her broadside could be counted with the eye, and her lower sails were seen to be wet with the spray that dashed up over her bows.

For some time the Americans had been aloft getting down the topgallant yards, and at eleven o’clock the stranger brig shortened sail and shook out the Spanish flag. But this did not deceive the wary Yankee captain for half an instant. No one but an American or an Englishman would carry sail in that fashion or bring his ship up to an enemy like that, and the Wasp’s drummer beat to quarters.

Now for over thirty minutes the two vessels sailed on side by side, but constantly nearing. At last they were so close that the buttons of the officers’ coats could be seen, the red coat of a marine showed, and all doubt on board the Wasp of the other being anything but English was dispelled in a flash. The matches had been smoking for a full quarter of an hour.

When within near pistol-shot Captain Jones hailed through his trumpet. Down came the colors of Spain and up went the cross of St. George. The distance was scarcely sixty yards, and as the flags exchanged the brig let go her broadside. A lucky incident occurred just then that probably saved many lives on board the Wasp. A sudden puff of wind heeled the enemy over as she fired, and her shot swept through the upper rigging and riddled the sails. Jones immediately replied with all his guns, that tore and hulled his antagonist with almost every shot; then, as fast as his crew could load and fire, he kept at it. Now and then the muzzles of his little broadside would sweep into the water; but those of the enemy, aimed high, were mangling his rigging and sweeping away braces, blocks, and running gear.

At the end of a hot five minutes there was a sharp crack aloft, and the main-topmast of the Wasp swayed and fell, bringing down the main-topsail yard across the fore-topsail braces and rendering the head-sails unmanageable. Three minutes more and away went the gaff at the jaws, and the mizzen-topgallant-sail fluttered to the deck like a huge wounded bird.

The American, slightly in advance, fell off her course and crossed her enemy’s bows, firing and raking her at close range most fearfully. At once the fire of the Englishman slackened, and the Wasp drifted slowly back to her former position.

Both vessels were jumping so in the seaway that boarding would be attended by mutual danger. The enemy revived from the destructive broadside, fired a few more shots, and the last brace of the Wasp fell over her side, leaving the masts unsupported, and, badly wounded as they were, in a most critical condition.

“We must decide this matter at once,” said Captain Jones, as he looked at the creaking spars, and he gave orders to wear ship. Slowly his vessel answered, and, paying off, the collision followed. With a grinding jar the Wasp rubbed along the Englishman’s bow, and the jib-boom of the latter, extending clear across the deck immediately over the American commander’s head, fouled in the mizzen-shrouds. It was not necessary to make her fast, and she lay so fair for raking that Jones gave orders for another broadside.

As the gunners of the Wasp threw out their rammers the ends touched the enemy’s sides, and the muzzles of two 12-pounders went through the latter’s bow-ports and swept the deck’s length.

Jack Lange was an able American seaman who had once been impressed into the British service, and the excitement of the moment was too much for his feverish blood. Taking his cutlass in his teeth, he leaped atop a gun and laid hold of the enemy’s nettings.

“Come out of that, sir! Wait for orders!” roared Captain Jones, who wished to fire again.

But if Jack Lange heard he did not hesitate, and, despite the command, hauled himself alone over the bows. Some of the men left their guns at this and picked up pikes and boarding-axes.

Lieutenant Biddle glanced at his commander, the latter nodded grimly, and with a spring the lieutenant gained the hammock cloth and reached up for the ropes overhead. The vessels lurched and one of his feet caught in a tangle, from which he vainly tried to free himself.

Little Midshipman Baker, who was too short to make a reach of it, thought he saw his chance, and, laying hold of Lieutenant Biddle’s coat-tails in his eagerness, tried to swarm up his superior’s legs. The result was, however, that both fell back on the rail, and came within an ace of pitching overboard into the sea. Jumping up quickly, Lieutenant Biddle took advantage of a heave of the Wasp and scrambled over the enemy’s bowsprit on to the forecastle.

There stood Jack Lange, with his cutlass in his folded arms, gazing at a wondrous sight. Not a living soul was on the deck but a wounded man at the wheel and three officers huddled near the taffrail! But the colors were still whipping and snapping overhead, and, two or three more of the Wasp’s boarders tumbling on board, the little party, headed by Biddle, made their way aft. Immediately the officers, two of whom were wounded, threw down their swords, and one of them leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.

The young lieutenant jumped into the rigging and hauled down the flag. It was almost beyond belief that such carnage and complete destruction could have taken place in a time so short. But a small proportion of the crew had escaped. The wounded and dying lay everywhere, the berth-deck was crowded, and there were not enough of the living to minister to their comrades. H. M. S. Frolic was a charnel-ship.

The Wasp’s crew brought on board all their blankets, and the American surgeon’s mate was soon busy attending to the wounded.

With great difficulty the two vessels were separated, for the Frolic had locked her antagonist, as it were, in a dying embrace; and no sooner were they clear than both of the prize’s masts fell (one bringing down the other), covering the dead and wounded, and hampering all the efforts of Lieutenant Biddle and his crew to clear the decks.

All this time three great white topsails had been pushing up above the horizon, and soon it was made out that a large ship of some kind was bearing down, carrying all the canvas she safely could in the sharp blow.

Jones, thinking that it might be one of the convoy returning to seek the Frolic, called his tired crew to quarters, instructing Lieutenant Biddle to fit a jury rig and to make with his charge for some Southern port. It was not to be, however, and the gallant victory was to have a different termination.

The lookout on the foremast called down something that changed the complexion of matters entirely.

“A seventy-four carrying the English flag!” he shouted. That was all. The men at the Wasp’s guns put out their matches. There was nothing to do but wait and be taken. Any resistance would be worse than foolish.

As the great battle-ship came bowling along she passed so close that the faces could be seen looking through her three tiers of great open ports. She disdained to hail, fired one gun over the little Wasp, and swept on. Captain Jones hauled down his flag, and read the word Poictiers under the Britisher’s galleries. In a minute or two the latter retook the Frolic, and, lowering her boats, placed prize crews on board both her and the Yankee sloop. After some repairing, she set sail and carried her captives to Bermuda.

As in all the separate engagements of the time, comparisons were made between the armaments and crews of the fighters, and the press of Great Britain and America began the customary argument. Probably the Wasp had a few more men, but to quote:

“The Frolic mounted sixteen 32-pound carronades, four 12-pounders on the main-deck and two 12-pound carronades. She was, therefore, superior to the Wasp by exactly four 12-pounders. The number of men on board, as stated by the officers of the Frolic, was 110. The number of seamen on the Wasp was 102. But it could not be ascertained whether in this 110 were included marines and officers, for the Wasp had, besides her 102 seamen, officers and marines, making the whole crew about 135. What, however, is decisive as to their comparative force is that the officers of the Frolic acknowledged that they had as many men as they knew what to do with, and, in fact, the Wasp could have spared fifteen men.... The exact number of killed and wounded on board the Frolic could not be determined, but from the observations of our officers and the declarations of those of the Frolic the number could not be less than about thirty killed, including two officers, and of the wounded between forty and fifty, the captain and lieutenant being of the number. The Wasp had five killed and five slightly wounded.”

Captain Jones in his report speaks of the bravery of his officers, the gallantry of his adversary, Captain Whinyates, and makes little mention of himself. Upon his exchange and return to the United States he was received with every honor belonging to a victor, and the sum of $25,000 was voted by Congress to be divided as prize money among his crew. The Wasp soon flew the British flag, but was lost at sea. Strange to relate, this was also the fate of the second Wasp that was soon afloat in the American service, and that had a career which was surpassed by none of the smaller vessels of the day.