Considering it unjust to compel Americans to fire on their countrymen, Dacres granted the 10 impressed sailors aboard Guerriere permission to stay below deck during the battle. Then, around 5 p.m., he ordered the crew to hoist two English ensigns and a Union Jack. In turn, Hull ordered four American ensigns, including the Stars and Stripes, raised on Constitution.
Guerriere opened fire but missed wildly. Constitution launched occasional shots, but Hull, to the unease of his crew, ordered them to hold most of their fire until they engaged the enemy in extremely close action. Around 6 p.m., the two ships drew alongside about 25 yards apart. Constitution rocked Guerriere with a full broadside. Hull, eager to get a better view of the action, split his dress breeches as he leapt atop an arms chest.
To the amazement of Dacres and his crew, the 18-pound iron cannonballs launched by Guerriere bounced harmlessly off the American frigate’s 24-inch triple-layered hull, which was made of white oak and live oak sheathed in copper forged by Paul Revere. One British sailor supposedly yelled out, “Huzza! Her sides are made of iron!” Thus, Constitution was christened “Old Ironsides.”
After 15 minutes of intense bombardment, the mizzenmast fell over the starboard side of the staggered Guerriere and impaired its ability to maneuver. Within minutes, Guerriere’s bowsprit became entangled with Constitution’s mizzen rigging, and the two interlocked ships rotated clockwise. As both ships prepared boarding parties, sharpshooters in the mast tops rained down musket fire on their enemies. Dacres was wounded in the back, and on the deck of Constitution a musket ball fatally felled Lieutenant William Bush, who became the first U.S. Marine Corps officer to die in combat.
During the mayhem, the ships tore free of each other. Fifteen minutes after Guerriere’s mizzenmast fell, its foremast snapped like a matchstick and carried the mainmast with it. The mighty British warship was now a crippled hulk with 30 holes smashed in its side and body parts strewn on its blood-splattered deck. Constitution sported pockmarks on its sails, but Old Glory still flapped in the wind, and its mighty hull, of course, remained intact.
As the Guerriere crew threw the dead overboard, Dacres ordered a shot to be fired from the leeward side in surrender. Hull, unclear of the sign in the growing darkness, dispatched a lieutenant over to the enemy ship. “Commodore Hull’s compliments and wishes to know if you have struck your flag,” said the lieutenant. Dacres responded with dry British wit, “Well, I don’t know. Our mizzenmast is gone, our mainmast is gone—and upon the whole, you may say we have struck our flag.”
Through the night, prisoners were removed by boat. Surgeons amputated arms and legs. Seven Americans had been killed and seven wounded. On the British side, 13 were dead and 62 wounded. By daylight, it was clear that Guerriere, with four feet of water in the hold, could not be salvaged as a prize to bring back to America. That afternoon, the Americans lit the hulk on fire, and a huge explosion showered the Atlantic with Guerriere’s tattered remains.
The battle wasn’t critical to the outcome of the war, but it was an important statement of American naval power and a boost to Yankee morale. Even without Guerriere, Constitution arrived triumphantly in Boston on August 30. Crowds thronged rooftops and wharves and exclaimed hearty cheers. The frigate had left Boston 28 days earlier as USS Constitution. It had returned as “Old Ironsides,” an American icon.
