Chapter: SKETCH FIFTH. THE FRIGATE, AND SHIP FLYAWAY.

  "Looking far forth into the ocean wide,
  A goodly ship with banners bravely dight,
  And flag in her top-gallant I espide,
  Through the main sea making her merry flight."


Ere quitting Rodondo, it must not be omitted that here, in 1813, the
U.S. frigate Essex, Captain David Porter, came near leaving her bones.
Lying becalmed one morning with a strong current setting her rapidly
towards the rock, a strange sail was descried, which--not out of keeping
with alleged enchantments of the neighborhood--seemed to be staggering
under a violent wind, while the frigate lay lifeless as if spell-bound.
But a light air springing up, all sail was made by the frigate in chase
of the enemy, as supposed--he being deemed an English whale-ship--but
the rapidity of the current was so great, that soon all sight was lost
of him; and, at meridian, the Essex, spite of her drags, was driven so
close under the foam-lashed cliffs of Rodondo that, for a time, all
hands gave her up. A smart breeze, however, at last helped her off,
though the escape was so critical as to seem almost miraculous.

Thus saved from destruction herself, she now made use of that salvation
to destroy the other vessel, if possible. Renewing the chase in the
direction in which the stranger had disappeared, sight was caught of him
the following morning. Upon being descried he hoisted American colors
and stood away from the Essex. A calm ensued; when, still confident that
the stranger was an Englishman, Porter dispatched a cutter, not to board
the enemy, but drive back his boats engaged in towing him. The cutter
succeeded. Cutters were subsequently sent to capture him; the stranger
now showing English colors in place of American. But, when the frigate's
boats were within a short distance of their hoped-for prize, another
sudden breeze sprang up; the stranger, under all sail, bore off to the
westward, and, ere night, was hull down ahead of the Essex, which, all
this time, lay perfectly becalmed.

This enigmatic craft--American in the morning, and English in the
evening--her sails full of wind in a calm--was never again beheld. An
enchanted ship no doubt. So, at least, the sailors swore.

This cruise of the Essex in the Pacific during the war of 1812, is,
perhaps, the strangest and most stirring to be found in the history of
the American navy. She captured the furthest wandering vessels; visited
the remotest seas and isles; long hovered in the charmed vicinity of the
enchanted group; and, finally, valiantly gave up the ghost fighting two
English frigates in the harbor of Valparaiso. Mention is made of her
here for the same reason that the Buccaneers will likewise receive
record; because, like them, by long cruising among the isles,
tortoise-hunting upon their shores, and generally exploring them; for
these and other reasons, the Essex is peculiarly associated with the
Encantadas.

Here be it said that you have but three, eye-witness authorities worth
mentioning touching the Enchanted Isles:--Cowley, the Buccaneer (1684);
Colnet the whaling-ground explorer (1798); Porter, the post captain
(1813). Other than these you have but barren, bootless allusions from
some few passing voyagers or compilers.

       *       *       *       *       *

 This is a really unusually pointless anecdote about U.S. explorer David Porter and his ship the Essex. His crew saw a ship, tried to catch it, and didn't. But it was in the Enchanted Isles, so everything seemed mysterious and...enchanted. Shmoop note: "The Encantadas" was the most popular piece in The Piazza Tales, initially. Go figure.

