dead; the wind, through our scanty shrouds, whispered in the ear of death; and the green wave, reddened by battle, greedily sported around our sides.[91]
Many of the islands near the Bay are not larger than a dwelling-house. Their sides consist of ragged rocks, and on their summits are a few weather beaten trees.
The storm continuing, we remained at anchor in Put-in-Bay four days. During this time I frequently went ashore, and surveyed the island of this name. Wild fowl are numerous here, and in the woods there are swine. The island is uninhabited. Its soil and the growth of its timber are very good. The former abounds with limestone.
This island is rendered interesting by its forming the bay in which our fleet was moored both before and after its great victory; and also by its containing the graves of some of those who fell in the engagement. My visit to these graves excited melancholy reflections. The parade and confusion of battle had passed; and nothing was heard but the chill blast, wending its devious way through the rank weeds. So bloody was this battle, that the victor himself might well have mourned.
It was natural for me here to reflect upon our naval history. During the Revolution our prowess upon the ocean promised every thing; and in the late war even the prophecies of philosophy, and the inspirations of liberty, were distanced. But I must speak of Renown! Where
