CAPTAIN SILAS TALBOT
During the American War of Secession in the eighteenth century, as well
as in that of 1812, American seamen took very kindly to privateering.
There were many smart vessels afloat, commanded by intrepid and skilful
men, with hardy and well-trained crews, and British naval historians are
all agreed as to the success of their ventures and the immense amount of
damage inflicted upon our sea-trade by them. Their fast-sailing
schooners were usually able to outpace our men-of-war and privateers,
and so to make their choice between fighting and running away; and they
do not appear to have been averse to fighting when there was the
smallest chance of success, or even against considerable odds.
We find, nevertheless, among American writers, considerable diversity of
opinion as to the advantages of privateering and the conduct of
privateers.
In the _North American Review_ for July 1820, six years after the
conclusion of the last war, there is a most urgent appeal against
privateering, denouncing all privateers, American and others, as
practically pirates, and setting forth in the strongest possible terms
the gross iniquity of the whole business.
Mr. Roosevelt, in his "History of the Naval War of 1812," alludes to
their privateers in very disparaging terms, pointing out that they were
far more keen upon plunder than fighting, and were utterly unreliable;
would fight one day, and run away the next.
Mr. George Coggleshall, in the introduction to his "History of the
American Privateers during our War with England in the years 1812-14,"
says: "I commence my plea, soliciting public approbation in favour of
privateersmen, and for those who served in private armed vessels in the
war"; and quotes Jefferson in support of his views.
Mr. E.S. Maclay, in his "History of American Privateers," says: "In
general, the conduct of American privateersmen on the high seas was most
commendable."
It is, of course, most natural that these writers should stand up for
their countrymen, and Englishmen, as has already been stated, are not
slow to acknowledge the prowess of American privateersmen. For the
details of actions between these and British vessels we are indebted
almost entirely to American accounts, and particularly to the two works
above mentioned; such engagements are usually only referred to in the
briefest terms, or altogether unnoticed, in our naval histories; and the
American writers--especially Mr. Coggleshall--display a bitterly hostile
spirit which is apt to be very detrimental to the merits of so-called
history. And so, while there is no intention of questioning their good
faith, one is at least at liberty to wonder where they obtained their
information.
According to these writers, British naval officers and privateersmen
habitually treated prisoners of war with shocking, wanton brutality:
while the Americans exhibited invariable kindness, even beneficence,
towards British prisoners: an allegation to which it is impossible to
accord full credence, especially when statements are made without
reference or authentication.
Moreover, the exploits of American privateersmen are frequently
exhibited in an artificially heroic light; the most trivial and obvious
measures for the safety of the ship, for instance, related as though
they demonstrated extraordinary qualities of courage and resource; while
the "long bow" is occasionally conspicuously in evidence, the author
apparently not possessing the requisite technical knowledge to perceive
the absurdity of some story which he has come across.
In support of his contention that the conduct of American privateers was
admirable, Mr. Maclay tells the following story, which, he says,
appeared in a London newspaper in December 1814--he does not tell us the
precise date, or the name of the paper. Still, here is the story (page
15):
"A trading vessel laden with wheat, from Cardigan, was taken in the
Channel by an American privateer. When the captain of the latter entered
the cabin to survey the prize, he espied a small box with a hole in the
top, on which the words 'Missionary Box' were inscribed. On seeing this
the American captain seemed not a little astonished, and addressed the
Welsh captain as follows:
"'Captain, what is this?' pointing to the box with his stick. (Why a
_stick_, at sea?)
"'Oh,' replied the honest Cambrian, heaving a sigh, ''tis all over now.'
"'What?' said the American captain.
"'Why, the truth is,' said the Welshman, 'that I and my poor fellows
have been accustomed, every Monday morning, to drop a penny each into
that box for the purpose of sending out missionaries to preach the
Gospel to the heathen; but it is all over now.'
"'Indeed,' answered the American captain; 'that is very good.'
"After pausing a few minutes, he said, 'Captain, I'll not hurt a hair of
your head, nor touch your vessel'; and he immediately departed, leaving
the owner to pursue his course."
There is no disputing the humanity of this American privateer skipper,
if the tale be true; but one would be disposed to wonder what his owners
said to him about the business. They might want to know what he meant by
allowing a Welshman to score off him by means of a pious fraud! A
privateer skipper, however religiously disposed, should not put to sea
without his sense of humour.
"A still more forcible illustration of the humanity of American
privateersmen," says Mr. Maclay (page 16), "is had early in 1782, when
the private armed sloop _Lively_, Captain D. Adams, of Massachusetts,
rescued the officers and crew of the British frigate _Blonde_, which
had been wrecked on a barren and desolate island. The treatment which
all American prisoners, and especially privateersmen, had received at
the hands of the British would have almost justified the commander of
the _Lively_ in leaving these shipwrecked mariners to their fate. But
the American jack tar is a generous fellow, and nothing appeals so
strongly to his compassion as a fellow-seaman in distress, and on this
occasion the people of the _Lively_ extended every assistance to their
enemies and brought them safely into port."
Really, they would have been no better than pirates if they had left
them there. There does not appear to be any reason for supposing that
American privateersmen were either more or less scrupulous than their
British cousins; there was always plunder in view on both sides, and, if
plunder could be obtained without fighting, so much the better.
The editor of _De Bow's Commercial Review_ (vol. i., page 518, June
1846), in a note appended to an article upon privateering, says:
"Privateering constitutes a separate chapter in the laws of nations.
Every nation has resorted to this method of destroying the commerce of
the enemy, without questioning for a moment their right of doing so.
Many have affected to consider it, after all, but legalised piracy, and
calculated to blunt the finer feelings of justice and sear the heart to
noble sentiments. We are at a loss, ourselves, to understand how the
occupation of a mere privateer can be reconciled with any of the higher
feelings of our nature: an occupation whose whole end and purpose is
pillage upon the high seas and pecuniary gain out of the fiercest
bloodshed. The love of country, patriotic self-devotion, and ardour,
have no place in such concerns.... It cannot be doubted, that men
estimable in other respects have been found in the pursuit of
privateering; but exceptions of this kind are rare, and could not, we
think, occur again, in the improved moral sense of mankind."
With these preliminary remarks, let us now recount the doings of some of
the American privateersmen, commencing with Silas Talbot.
CAPTAIN--OR COLONEL--SILAS TALBOT
"The Life and Surprising Adventures of Captain Silas Talbot; containing
a Curious Account of the Various Changes and Gradations of this
Extraordinary Character." Such is the title of a small volume published
in America about the year 1803; and the editor states that the bulk of
the information contained therein was communicated personally by Talbot,
and has since been substantially confirmed from various quarters.
Silas Talbot, we learn, was born at Dighton, Mass., about the year 1752,
and commenced his career at sea as cabin-boy. At the age of twenty-four,
however, he blossoms into a captain in the U.S. Army--or the rebel army,
according to British notions--in the year 1776; and by virtue, we must
suppose, of his nautical training, he was placed in command of a
fireship at New York, and soon after promoted to the rank of major--but
still with naval duties. He speedily attracted attention as a daring and
ingenious officer, and was very successful in several enterprises, the
most notable being the conquest and capture of a well-armed stationary
British vessel, moored in the east passage off Rhode Island. He made the
attack at night, and devised an ingenious plan for breaching the high
boarding-nettings of the Britisher, fixing at the bowsprit end of his
sloop a small anchor, which, being forcibly rammed into the net by the
impetus of the vessel, tore it away. The attack was devised as a
surprise, but the approach of the gallant Talbot was observed, and it
was under a heavy fire that he and his men succeeded in their desperate
enterprise.
In 1779, having meanwhile been promoted to the rank of colonel, he
commenced his career as a privateer commander. The British had a
considerable number of private ships of war afloat on the American coast
at that time, and Talbot was placed in command of the _Argo_, a sloop of
under 100 tons, armed with twelve 6-pounders, and carrying 60 men. She
was very heavily sparred--with one mast, of course, and an immense
mainsail, the main boom being very long and thick. She was steered with
a long tiller, had very high bulwarks, a wide stern, and looked like a
clumsy Albany trader; we are told, however, that "her bottom was her
handsomest part," which is only another way of saying that, with her big
spars, she was, in spite of her uncouth appearance, a swift and handy
craft.
In this little stinging wasp Talbot set forth, and, after one or two
indecisive skirmishes, he encountered the _King George_, a privateer
commanded by one Hazard, a native of Rhode Island, who had been very
busy. Captain Hazard had been greatly esteemed, until he elected to
fight on the British side, "for the base purpose of plundering his
neighbours and old friends"; after which he was naturally regarded with
the bitterest hatred, and Talbot approached to the attack, no doubt,
with a grim determination to put a stop to the depredations of the
renegade.
The _King George_ was of superior force to the _Argo_, carrying 14 guns
and 80 men; but her captain apparently permitted Talbot to come to close
quarters without opposition, for the writer tells us that he "steered
close alongside him, pouring into his decks a whole broadside, and
almost at the same instant a boarding party, which drove the crew of the
_King George_ from their quarters, and took possession of her without a
man on either side being killed."
Talbot was, unquestionably, a born fighter and well versed in nautical
strategy and attack; but the writer of these records strikes one as
being an enthusiastic and ingenuous person, without practical knowledge
of seamanship or warfare, and consequently liable to be imposed upon by
any one who could not resist the temptation to tell a "good yarn." Silas
Talbot may have been afflicted with this weakness, for all we know. It
is a genuine American characteristic, and by no means incompatible with
the highest attributes of personal courage and skill in warfare.
However, there is no cause to doubt the truth of the account of the
capture of the _King George_, for which Talbot and his men deserve
credit.
The next antagonist of the _Argo_ was the British privateer _Dragon_, of
300 tons, 14 guns, and 80 men--rather a small armament and crew for a
vessel of that tonnage, in those days.
This was a desperate engagement, carried on for four and a half hours,
at pistol-shot. The gallant Talbot had some narrow shaves, for we are
told that his speaking-trumpet was pierced with shot in two places, and
the skirts of his coat torn off by a cannon-shot! We cannot avoid the
conclusion that the gentle narrator was, in vulgar parlance, being "had"
over this story. A modern small-bore bullet, with high velocity, would
probably make a clean hole through a tin speaking-trumpet, which might
possibly be retained in the hand, if held very firmly, during the
process. But a clumsy, slow-sailing pistol or musket ball of that period
would simply double up the tin tube and send it flying; while as to the
coat-tails--well, it is not stated that Captain Talbot experienced any
discomfort in sitting down afterwards, or inconvenience for lack of
anything to sit upon. It was a most discriminating cannon-ball!
Nearly all the men on deck--a vessel like the _Argo_ certainly did not
fight any men _below_--were either killed or wounded; and the _Dragon_,
losing her mainmast, at length struck her colours.
Then came an alarm that the _Argo_ was sinking; "but," says the gentle
story-teller, "the captain gave orders to inspect the sides of the
sloop, upon which he found several shot-holes between wind and water,
which they plugged up." And a very good device, too, though a somewhat
obvious one, to prevent a vessel from sinking!
Having refitted his ship, Talbot put out again, this time with the
_Saratoga_, another privateer, of Providence, commanded by Captain
Munroe, in company; and in due course they came across the _Dublin_, a
very smart English privateer cutter of 14 guns, coming out of Sandy
Hook. It was agreed that Talbot should first give chase, for fear the
sight of two vessels bearing down upon him should make the Britisher
shy: rather a transparent device, since Munroe's craft was in sight, at
no great distance, the whole time. The Englishman, however, awaited the
attack, and a spirited duel ensued by the space of an hour. When Munroe
thought it was time for him to cut in, he found that his ship would not
answer her helm. This is explained as follows: "The _Saratoga_ was
steered with a long wooden tiller on common occasions, but in time of
action the wooden tiller was unshipped and put out of the way, and she
was then steered with an iron one that was shipped into the rudder-head
from the cabin.... The _Saratoga_ went away with the wind at a smart
rate, to the surprise of Captain Talbot, and the still greater surprise
of Captain Munroe, who repeatedly called to the helmsman, 'Hard
a-weather! Hard up, there!' 'It is hard up, sir!' 'You lie, you
blackguard! She goes away lasking! Hard a-weather, I say, again!' 'It is
hard a-weather, indeed, sir!' Captain Munroe was astonished, and could
not conceive what the devil was the matter with his vessel. He took in
the after-sails, and made all the head-sail in his power. All would not
do--away she went! He was in the utmost vexation lest Captain Talbot
should think he was running away. At last one of his under-officers
suggested that possibly the iron tiller had not entered the rudder-head,
which, on examination, was found to be the case. The blunder was now
soon corrected, and the _Saratoga_ was made to stand towards the enemy;
and, that some satisfaction might be made for his long absence, Captain
Munroe determined, as soon as he got up, to give her a whole broadside
at once. He did so, and the _Dublin_ immediately struck her colours;
yet, strange to tell, it did not appear, on strict inquiry and
examination afterwards, that this weight of fire, which was meant to
tear the cutter in pieces, had done the vessel or crew the least
additional injury."
Here is a capital yarn, for the uninitiated; but it serves to illustrate
the danger of entering upon technical details without adequate
understanding. It may be true enough that the tiller was not properly
shipped in the first instance; but, this granted, to begin with, any
sailing-vessel that is properly trimmed will, upon letting go the
tiller, come up into the wind, instead of running off it. Even
admitting, however, that the _Saratoga_ was so "slack on her helm," in
nautical parlance, as to "go away lasking"--_i.e._ almost before the
wind--under such conditions, the very last order the captain would give
would be "Hard up," or "Hard a-weather," which would only cause her to
run away worse than ever; while taking in the after-sail and piling on
head sail would aggravate the evil! If the writer had represented
Captain Munroe as shouting, "Hard down! Hard a-lee, you blackguard!"
hauling in his mainsheet and taking off the head-sail, one might believe
that Talbot or some other sailor-man had told the story. As it stands,
it is ridiculous; but it is repeated, word for word, in various
accounts--among others by Mr. Maclay.
Well, the _Dublin_ was captured, hauling down her colours after Munroe's
innocuous broadside; and Talbot's next antagonist was the _Betsy_, an
English privateer of 12 guns and 38 men, "commanded by an honest and
well-informed Scotchman." After some palaver at pistol-shot, Talbot
hoisted the stars and stripes, crying, "You must now haul down those
British colours, my friend!" To which the Scot replied, "Notwithstanding
I find you an enemy, as I suspected, yet, sir, I believe I shall let
them hang a little longer, with your permission. So fire away,
Flanagan!"
Had the honest Scot been of the same type of privateer captain as George
Walker he would certainly have banged in his broadside before the stars
and stripes were well above the rail, and perhaps altered the outcome of
the action. As it was, Talbot took him, killing or wounding the captain
and principal officers and several men.
The little _Argo_ was subsequently put out of commission and returned to
her owners; and in 1780 Talbot was given command of another privateer,
the _General Washington_. After making one capture, however, he was
taken, we are told, by an English squadron off Sandy Hook, and sent on
board the _Robuste_, Captain Cosby, where he was courteously treated.
Being transferred, however, to a tender--name not stated--for conveyance
to New York, the commander--"a Scotch lord," we are told, "put his
gallant captive into the hold. The only excuse for this dastardly
behaviour is to be found in the craven fears of his lordship. By a
remarkable coincidence, the pilot he employed was the same formerly on
board the _Pigot_ (the stationary vessel captured by Talbot at Rhode
Island), and this man so frightened his superior with the story of his
prisoner's reckless daring that he--notwithstanding a written
remonstrance which Captain Talbot forwarded to the British admiral--was
thus kept confined below until they reached New York; and the arm-chest
was removed to the cabin."
This is quoted from "The Life of Silas Talbot," by Henry T. Tuckerman,
published in 1850. The story is given for what it is worth. Had the name
of the tender and of the so readily scared "Scotch lord" been given, it
would have been more worthy of consideration.
After this Talbot was confined on board the _Jersey_ prison-ship, off
Long Island, where it is said that prisoners were treated with gross
inhumanity; and being eventually conveyed to England on board the
_Yarmouth_, was kept in prison on Dartmoor, where he made four desperate
attempts to escape. He was liberated in the summer of 1781, and found
his way home to Rhode Island. He died in New York, June 30th, 1813.