When he reached his vessel, Macdonough retired to his cabin to await further developments, which were not long in appearing.
Macdonough sprung into the stern-sheets, and grasped the tiller.
It was in this sheltered water that Macdonough awaited attack, his ships riding about a mile from the American shore batteries.
At the end Macdonough had not a single gun left to fire back.
Fenimore Cooper speaks of him in his midshipman days as "the modest but lion-hearted Macdonough."
The Macdonough family of Delaware is also of Scottish descent.
Now, then, was the time to use the appliances which Macdonough's careful forethought had provided.
Just within its mouth, and nearly opposite where the turbulent Saranac empties into it, Macdonough anchored his vessels.
In Commodore Macdonough's official report, he says there was not a mast left in either squadron on which sail could be made.
To all of these, Macdonough was insupportable, nor was there any visible escape from the insolent familiarity of his manner.