Unwilling to believe that this great disparity of force was a sufficient reason for the defeat, the Americans endeavored to account for it in other ways. It was said that the sailors succeeded in smuggling wine from the brig burned a few hours before, and were not in a condition to fight--others that they were so overcome with fatigue that they nodded at their guns. Her fire was certainly much less destructive than that of other American vessels, which one of the officers on board said was owing to the powder used. Getting short of ammunition, they had taken some powder from an English vessel bound to South America. This being placed uppermost in the magazine, was used in this engagement. It was afterwards ascertained to be condemned powder, going as usual to supply South American and Mexican armies. In proof of this, it was said that the Pelican's hull was dented with shot, that had not force enough to pierce the timbers. The superiority of the English vessel in size, however, is a sufficient reason, without resorting to these explanations.[37] If any other was wanted, it would be found in the early loss of the superior officers. Such a calamity, at the outset of an engagement, will almost invariably turn an even scale. One officer cannot manage a ship, and sailors without leaders never fight well.
[Footnote 37: The Pelican was 485 tons, the Argus 298. The former threw nearly two hundred pounds more metal than the latter at every discharge.]
Captain Allen was taken ashore and placed in a hospital. As he was carried from the ship, he turned his languid eyes on the comrades of his perils and murmured, "God bless you, my lads; we shall never meet again." His conduct on the English coast furnishes a striking contrast to that of Cockburn, along our shores.[38]
[Footnote 38: Capt. Allen was born in Providence in 1784, and entered the navy as a midshipman when sixteen years of age. His father was an officer in the Revolution, and served with distinction. Young Allen, seven years after his appointment, was lieutenant on board the Chesapeake, when Barron shamefully struck his flag to the Leopard. He fired the only gun that replied to the British broadside, touching it off with a coal that he plucked from the fire in the galley. The shot passed directly through the ward-room of the Leopard. His indignation at the conduct of Barron overleaped all bounds, and he told him bluntly, "_Sir, you have disgraced us._" He drew up a letter to the Secretary of the Navy, demanding a court martial. "Oh," said he, in writing home, "when I act like this, may I die unpitied and forgotten, and no tear be shed to my memory." He was a brave and gallant officer, and distinguished himself in the action between the United States and Macedonian, and took command of the latter after her surrender. His death was a great loss to the navy.]