of the Isis, who conducted them; and of Mr. Edward Pellew, mate of the Blonde, who threw the tow-rope from the Carleton’s bowsprit."[10] This service on board the Carleton started Pellew on his road to fortune; but, singularly enough, the lieutenancy promised him in consequence, by both the First Lord and Lord Howe, was delayed by the fact that he stayed at the front, instead of going to the rear, where he would have been “within their jurisdiction."[11] The Carleton had two feet of water in the hold, and had lost eight killed and six wounded,—­about half her crew,—­when she anchored out of fire.  In this small but stirring business, the Americans, in addition to the Royal Savage, had lost one gondola.  Besides the injuries to the Carleton, a British artillery boat, commanded by a German lieutenant, was sunk.  Towards evening the Inflexible got within point-blank shot of the Americans, “when five broadsides,” wrote Douglas, “silenced their whole line.”  One fresh ship, with scantling for sea-going, and a concentrated battery, has an unquestioned advantage over a dozen light-built craft, carrying one or two guns each, and already several hours engaged.

At nightfall the Inflexible dropped out of range, and the British squadron anchored in line of battle across the southern end of the passage between the island and the main; some vessels were extended also to the eastward, into the open Lake.  “The best part of my intelligence,” wrote Burgoyne next day from St. John’s, to Douglas at Quebec, “is that our whole fleet was formed in line above the enemy, and consequently they must have surrendered this morning, or given us battle on our own terms.  The Indians and light troops are abreast with the fleet; they cannot, therefore, escape by land.”  The British squadron sharing this confidence, a proper look-out was not kept.  The American leader immediately held a conference with his officers, and decided to attempt a retreat, “which was done with such secrecy,” writes Waterbury, “that we went through them entirely undiscovered.”  The movement began at 7 P.M., a galley leading, the gondolas and schooners following, and Arnold and his second bringing up the rear in the two heaviest galleys.  This delicate operation was favoured by a heavy fog, which did not clear till next morning at eight.  As the Americans stole by, they could not see any of the hostile ships.  By daylight they were out of sight of the British.  Riedesel, speaking of this event, says, “The ships anchored, secure of the enemy, who stole off during the night, and sailing round the left wing, aided by a favourable wind, escaped under darkness.”  The astonishment next morning, he continues, was great, as was Carleton’s rage.  The latter started to pursue in such a hurry that he forgot to leave orders for the troops which had been landed; but, failing to discover the fugitives, he returned and remained at Valcour till nightfall, when scouts brought word that the enemy were at Schuyler’s Island, eight miles above.