who saw the whole chase, speaks of the wonder and astonishment of the
British officers at the handling of the _Constitution_. They expected
to see Hull throw overboard his guns and anchors and stave his boats.
This they did themselves in a measure, as they cut adrift many of their
cutters--and spent some time afterwards in picking them up--by the same
token. Nothing had been done to lighten the _Constitution_ but to start
the water-casks, as before mentioned.
So sure were the English of making a capture that Captain Broke
had appointed a prize crew from his vessel, the _Shannon_, and had
claimed the honor of sailing the _Constitution_ into Halifax; but, as
a contemporary states, “The gallant gentleman counted his chickens
before they were hatched”--a saying trite but true.
To quote from the _Shannon’s_ log, under the entry of July 18th, will
be of interest: “At dawn” (so it runs) “an American frigate within
four miles of the squadron. Had a most fatiguing and anxious chase;
both towing and kedging, as opportunity offered. American exchanged a
few shots with _Belvidera_--carried near enemy by partial breeze. Cut
our boats adrift, but all in vain; the _Constitution_ sailed well and
escaped.”
It is recorded in English annals that there were some very sharp
recriminations and explanations held in the _Shannon’s_ cabin. Perhaps
Captain Hull would have enjoyed being present; but by this time he was
headed northward. He ran into Boston harbor for water on the following
Sunday.
Broke’s squadron separated, hoping to find the _Constitution_ on some
future day and force her to action. In this desire Captain Dacres of
the _Guerrière_ was successful--so far as the finding was concerned;
but the well-known result started American hearts to beating high and
cast a gloom over the Parliament of England.
The ovations and praises bestowed upon the American commander upon his
arrival at Boston induced him to insert the following card on the books
of the Exchange Coffee-House:
“Captain Hull, finding that his friends in Boston are correctly
informed of his situation when chased by the British squadron off New
York, and that they are good enough to give him more credit for having
escaped it than he ought to claim, takes this opportunity of requesting
them to transfer their good wishes to Lieutenant Morris and the other
brave officers, and the crew under his command, for their very great
exertions and prompt attention to his orders while the enemy were in
chase. Captain Hull has great pleasure in saying that, notwithstanding
the length of the chase, and the officers and crew being deprived of
sleep, and allowed but little refreshment during the time, not a murmur
was heard to escape them.”
It is rather a remarkable circumstance that the _Belvidera_, which was
one of the vessels that in this long chase did her best to come up
with the _Constitution_, had some months before declined the honor of
engaging the _President_. For, on the 24th of June, Captain Rodgers
had fired with his own hand one of the _President’s_ bow-chasers at
the _Belvidera_, and thus opened the war. After exchanging some shots,
Captain Byron, of the _Belvidera_, decided that discretion was the
better part, and, lightening his ship, managed to escape.
II
THE “CONSTITUTION” AND THE “GUERRIÈRE”
[August 19th, 1812]
The history of the naval combats of our second war with Great Britain,
the career of the frigate _Constitution_, and the deeds of our Yankee
commodores will never be forgotten as long as we have a navy or
continue to be a nation. England, it must be remembered, had held
the seas for centuries. In no combat between single ships (where the
forces engaged were anything like equal) had she lost a vessel. The
French fleets, under orders of their own government, ran away from
hers, and the Spanish captains had allowed their ships’ timbers to
rot for years in blockaded harbors. Nevertheless, this was the age
of honor, of gallantry, of the stiff duelling code, when men bowed,
passed compliments, and fought one another to the death with a parade
of courtesy that has left trace today in the conduct of the intercourse
between all naval powers. In the duels of the ships in the past that
have stirred the naval world, America has records that are monuments to
her seamen, and that must arouse the pride of every officer who sails
in her great steel cruisers today.
Up to the affair of the _Constitution_ and the _Guerrière_, in 1812,
the British had not fairly tested in battle the seamanship or naval
metal of the Americans. With the exceptions of the actions between the
_Bonhomme Richard_ and the _Serapis_, the _Ranger_ and _Drake_, and the
_Yarmouth_ and _Randolph_, the war of ’76 was a repelled invasion.
The twenty-four hours of the 19th of August, 1812, began with light
breezes that freshened as the morning wore on. The _Constitution_ was
slipping southward through the long rolling seas.
A month before this date, under the command of Commodore Hull, she had
made her wonderful escape from Broke’s squadron after a chase of over
sixty hours.
Her cruise since she had left Boston, two weeks before, had been
uneventful. Vainly had she sought from Cape Sable to the region of
Halifax, from Nova Scotia to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, for any sign of
a foe worthy her metal. It was getting on towards two o’clock; her men
had finished their midday meal, the afternoon drills had not begun, and
an observation showed the ship to be in latitude 41° 40´ and longitude
55° 48´. Suddenly “Sail ho!” from the mast-head stirred the groups on
the forecastle, and caused the officer pacing the weather side of the
quarter-deck to stop suddenly and raise his head.
“Where away?” he shouted to the voice far up above the booming sails.
Almost before he could get the answer the stranger’s top-sails were
visible from the lower rigging, into which the midshipmen and idlers
had scrambled, and a few moments later they could be seen from the
upper deck. The vessel was too far off to show her character, but bore
E.S.E., a faint dot against the horizon.
Hull came immediately from his cabin. He was a large, fat man, whose
excitable temperament was held in strong control. His eye gleamed when
he saw the distant speck of white. Immediately the _Constitution’s_
course was altered, and with her light sails set she was running free,
with kites all drawing, and the chase looming clearer and clearer
each anxious minute of the time. At three o’clock it was plainly seen
that she was a large ship, on the starboard tack, close-hauled on the
wind, and under easy sail. In half an hour her ports could be descried
through the glass, and loud murmurs of satisfaction ran through the
ship’s company. The officers smiled congratulations at one another, and
Hull’s broad face shone with his suppressed emotion. In the official
account Hull speaks of the conduct of his crew before the fight in
the following words: “It gives me great pleasure to say that from the
smallest boy in the ship to the oldest seaman not a look of fear was
seen. They went into action giving three cheers, and requesting to be
laid close to the enemy.” The _Constitution_ gained on the stranger,
who held her course, as if entirely oblivious of her pursuer’s presence.
When within three miles, and to leeward, Hull shortened sail and
cleared the decks; the drum beat to quarters, and the men sprang to
their stations. No crew was ever better prepared to do battle for any
cause or country. Although few of the men had been in action before,
they had been drilled until they had the handling of the clumsy iron
guns down to the point of excellence. They had been taught to fire on
the falling of a sea, and to hull their opponent, if possible, at every
shot. They loved and trusted their commander, were proud of their ship,
and burned to avenge the wrongs to which many had been subjected, for
the merchant service had furnished almost half their number.
As soon as Hull took in his sail the stranger backed her main-topsail
yard, and slowly came up into the wind. Then it could be seen that
_her_ men were all at quarters also. Hull raised his flag. Immediately
in response up went to every mast-head of the waiting ship the red
cross of old England. It was growing late in the afternoon, the breeze
had freshened, and the white-caps had begun to jump on every side. The
crew of the _Constitution_ broke into three ringing cheers as their
grand old craft bore down upon the enemy. When almost within range
the English let go her broadside, filled away, wore ship, and fired
her other broadside on the other tack. The shot fell short, and the
_Constitution_ reserved her fire. For three-quarters of an hour the two
yawed about and manoeuvred, trying to rake and to avoid being raked in
turn. Occasionally the _Constitution_ fired a gun; her men were in a
fever of impatience.
At six in the evening the enemy, seeing all attempts to outsail her
antagonist were in vain, showed a brave indication of wishing to close
and fight. Nearer the two approached, the American in silence.
“Shall I fire?” inquired Lieutenant Morris, Hull’s second in command.
“Not yet,” replied Hull, quietly.
The bows of the _Constitution_ began to double the quarter of the
enemy. The latter’s shot began to start the sharp white splinters
flying about the _Constitution’s_ decks.
“Shall I fire?” again asked Lieutenant Morris.
“Not yet, sir,” was Hull’s answer, spoken almost beneath his breath.
Suddenly he bent forward. “Now, boys,” he shouted, loudly, so that
his voice rang above the enemy’s shots and the roaring of the seas
under the quarter, “pour it into them!” It was at this point, so the
story goes, that Hull, crouching in his excitement, split his tight
knee-breeches from waistband to buckle.
The _Constitution’s_ guns were double-shotted with round and grape.
The broadside was as one single explosion, and the destruction was
terrific. The enemy’s decks were flooded, and the blood ran out of
the scuppers--her cockpit filled with the wounded. For a few minutes,
shrouded in smoke, they fought at the distance of a half pistol-shot,
but in that short space of time the Englishman was literally torn to
pieces in hull, spars, sails, and rigging.
As her mizzen-mast gave way the Englishman brought up into the wind,
and the _Constitution_ forged slowly ahead, fired again, luffed short
around the other’s bows, and, owing to the heavy sea, fell foul of
her antagonist, with her bowsprit across her larboard quarter. While
in this position Hull’s cabin was set on fire by the enemy’s forward
battery, and part of the crew were called away from the guns to
extinguish the threatening blaze.
Now both sides tried to board. It was the old style of fighting for the
British tars, and they bravely swarmed on deck at the call, “Boarders
away!” and the shrill piping along the ’tween-decks. The Americans were
preparing for the same attempt, and three of their officers who mounted
the taffrail were shot by the muskets of the English. Brave Lieutenant
Bush, of the marines, fell dead with a bullet in his brain.
The swaying and grinding of the huge ships against each other made
boarding impossible, and it was at this anxious moment that the sails
of the _Constitution_ filled; she fell off and shot ahead. Hardly was
she clear when the foremast of the enemy fell, carrying with it the
wounded main-mast, and leaving the proud vessel of a few hours before a
helpless wreck, “rolling like a log in the trough of the sea, entirely
at the mercy of the billows.”
It was now nearly seven o’clock. The sky had clouded over, the wind
was freshening, and the sea was growing heavy. Hull drew off for
repairs, rove new rigging, secured his masts, and, wearing ship, again
approached, ready to pour in a final broadside. It was not needed.
Before the _Constitution_ could fire, the flag which had been flying at
the stump of the enemy’s mizzen-mast was struck. The fight was over.
A boat was lowered from the _Constitution_, and Lieutenant Read, the
third officer, rowing to the prize, inquired, with “Captain Hull’s
compliments,” if she had struck her flag. He was answered by Captain
Dacres--who must have possessed a sense of humor--that, for very
obvious reasons, she certainly had done so.
To quote a few words from Hull’s account of the affair--he says: “After
informing that so fine a ship as the _Guerrière_, commanded by an able
and experienced officer, had been totally dismasted and otherwise cut
to pieces, so as to make her not worth towing into port, in the short
space of thirty minutes (actual fighting time), you can have no doubt
of the gallantry and good conduct of the officers and ship’s company I
have the honor to command.”
In the _Constitution_ seven were killed and seven wounded. In the
_Guerrière_, fifteen killed, sixty-two wounded--including several
officers and the captain, who was wounded slightly; twenty-four were
missing.
The next day, owing to the reasons shown in Hull’s report, the
_Guerrière_ was set on fire. At 3.15 in the afternoon she blew up;
and this was the end of the ship whose commander had sent a personal
message to Captain Hull some weeks before, requesting the “honor of a
_tête-à-tête_ at sea.”
Isaac Hull, who had thus early endeared himself in the hearts of
his countrymen, and set a high mark for American sailors to aim at,
was born near the little town of Derby, not far from New Haven,
Connecticut, in the year 1775. He was early taken with a desire for the
sea, and at the age of twelve years he went on board a vessel that had
been captured by his father from the British during the Revolution.
Although he entered the navy at the age of twenty-three, he had already
made eighteen voyages to different parts of Europe and the West Indies,
and had seen many adventures and thrilling moments.
During the administration of John Adams there occurred “that
exceedingly toilsome but inglorious service” of getting rid of the
French privateers who infested the West Indian seas. During this
quasi-war Hull was first lieutenant of the frigate _Constitution_ under
Commodore Talbot. In May, 1798, he had a chance to distinguish himself,
and did not neglect the opportunity, although the upshot of it was
tragic but bloodless.
It might not be out of place to relate the incident here. In the harbor
Porto Plata, in the island of St. Domingo, lay the _Sandwich_, a
French letter-of-marque. Hull was sent by his superior, in one of the
cutters, to reconnoitre the Frenchman. On the way he found a little
American sloop that rejoiced in the name of _Sally_. Hull threw his
party of seamen and marines on board of her, and hid them below the
deck. Then the _Sally_ was put into the harbor, and, as if by some
awkwardness, ran afoul of the _Sandwich_, which, as a jocose writer
remarks, “they devoured without the loss of a man.” At the same time
this rash proceeding was being carried on under the eyes (or, better,
guns) of a Spanish battery, Lieutenant Carmick took some marines and,
rowing ashore, spiked the guns. The _Sandwich_ was captured at midday,
and before the afternoon was over she weighed her anchor, beat out of
the harbor, and joined the _Constitution_.
In the opinion of nautical judges this was the best bit of cutting-out
work on record, for Hull’s men were outnumbered three to one; and if he
had not taken precautions, the battery could have blown him out of the
water. But, alas and alack! all this daring and bravery went for worse
than naught. Spain complained of the treatment she had received, and
the United States government acknowledged that the capture was illegal,
having taken place in a neutral port. The _Sandwich_ was restored to
her French owners, and, worst of all, every penny of the prize money
due the _Constitution’s_ officers and men for this cruise went to pay
the damages.
Before the war of 1812, Hull distinguished himself by his fearlessness
and self-reliance during the Tripolitan war. The two occasions that
gave him renown during our struggle with Great Britain have been
recorded at length, and there is but to set down that, after the
conclusion of the war with Great Britain, Commodore Hull was in command
at the various stations in the Pacific and the Mediterranean, and
departed this life on the 13th of February, 1843. Of him John Frost
writes, in 1844, “He was a glorious old commodore, with a soul full of
all noble aspirations for his country’s honor--a splendid relic of a
departed epoch of naval renown.”
III
THE “WASP” AND THE “FROLIC”
[October 18th, 1812]
Jacob Jones, of the United States Navy, was a native of Kent County, in
the State of Delaware. He rose rapidly through the various grades of
the service, attracting notice by his steadfastness and attention to
duty, and in 1811 he was transferred to the command of the _Wasp_, a
tidy sloop of war then mounting eighteen 24-pound carronades. She was a
fast sailer, given any wind or weather.
In the spring of 1812, Captain Jones was despatched to England with
communications to our minister at the Court of St. James. After
fulfilling his mission he immediately set sail for America. The
declaration of war between England and this country took place while
the _Wasp_ was on the high seas on her returning voyage; but as soon as
he had landed, the news greeted her commander, and he was eager to put
to sea again.
Captain Jacob Jones knew his ship, he knew his crew, and he rejoiced in
having about him a set of young officers devoted to the service. Their
names were James Biddle, George W. Rogers, Benjamin W. Broth, Henry B.
Rapp, and Lieutenants Knight and Claxton, and they were soon destined
to win laurels and glory for their country.
The first short cruise yielded no adventure of importance, but on
the 13th of October the _Wasp_ left the Delaware and two days later
encountered a heavy gale, during which her jib-boom was unfortunately
carried away and two of her people lost overboard. For some hours she
was thrown about like a shuttlecock, and all hands were called time and
again to shorten sail. The night of the 17th the sky cleared and the
stars shone brightly. To Captain Jones’s surprise several sail were
reported as being close at hand to the eastward. They were clearly seen
through the night-glass to be large, and apparently armed. Jones stood
straight for them, and gave orders to lay the same course that the
strangers were then holding, and so they kept until dawn of the next
day, which was a Sunday.
A heavy sea was running, and the _Wasp_, close-hauled, crept up to
windward of the fleet that she had followed through the night. At the
beginning of the early morning watch they were made out to be four
large ships and two smaller vessels under a spread of canvas, all
keeping close together.
But what was more interesting to the eager American crew was a sturdy
sloop of war, a brig, that was edging up slowly into the wind,
evidently guarding the six fleeing vessels to leeward--the sheep-dog of
the flock.
The _Wasp_, having the weather-gage, swung off a point or so to lessen
the distance.
As the stranger brig came nearer she heeled over until her broadside
could be counted with the eye, and her lower sails were seen to be wet
with the spray that dashed up over her bows.
For some time the Americans had been aloft getting down the topgallant
yards, and at eleven o’clock the stranger brig shortened sail and shook
out the Spanish flag. But this did not deceive the wary Yankee captain
for half an instant. No one but an American or an Englishman would
carry sail in that fashion or bring his ship up to an enemy like that,
and the _Wasp’s_ drummer beat to quarters.
Now for over thirty minutes the two vessels sailed on side by side, but
constantly nearing. At last they were so close that the buttons of the
officers’ coats could be seen, the red coat of a marine showed, and all
doubt on board the _Wasp_ of the other being anything but English was
dispelled in a flash. The matches had been smoking for a full quarter
of an hour.
When within near pistol-shot Captain Jones hailed through his trumpet.
Down came the colors of Spain and up went the cross of St. George. The
distance was scarcely sixty yards, and as the flags exchanged the brig
let go her broadside. A lucky incident occurred just then that probably
saved many lives on board the _Wasp_. A sudden puff of wind heeled the
enemy over as she fired, and her shot swept through the upper rigging
and riddled the sails. Jones immediately replied with all his guns,
that tore and hulled his antagonist with almost every shot; then, as
fast as his crew could load and fire, he kept at it. Now and then the
muzzles of his little broadside would sweep into the water; but those
of the enemy, aimed high, were mangling his rigging and sweeping away
braces, blocks, and running gear.
At the end of a hot five minutes there was a sharp crack aloft, and
the main-topmast of the _Wasp_ swayed and fell, bringing down the
main-topsail yard across the fore-topsail braces and rendering the
head-sails unmanageable. Three minutes more and away went the gaff at
the jaws, and the mizzen-topgallant-sail fluttered to the deck like a
huge wounded bird.
The American, slightly in advance, fell off her course and crossed her
enemy’s bows, firing and raking her at close range most fearfully.
At once the fire of the Englishman slackened, and the _Wasp_ drifted
slowly back to her former position.
Both vessels were jumping so in the seaway that boarding would be
attended by mutual danger. The enemy revived from the destructive
broadside, fired a few more shots, and the last brace of the _Wasp_
fell over her side, leaving the masts unsupported, and, badly wounded
as they were, in a most critical condition.
“We must decide this matter at once,” said Captain Jones, as he looked
at the creaking spars, and he gave orders to wear ship. Slowly his
vessel answered, and, paying off, the collision followed. With a
grinding jar the _Wasp_ rubbed along the Englishman’s bow, and the
jib-boom of the latter, extending clear across the deck immediately
over the American commander’s head, fouled in the mizzen-shrouds. It
was not necessary to make her fast, and she lay so fair for raking that
Jones gave orders for another broadside.
[Illustration: THE “WASP” RAKING THE “FROLIC”]
As the gunners of the _Wasp_ threw out their rammers the ends touched
the enemy’s sides, and the muzzles of two 12-pounders went through the
latter’s bow-ports and swept the deck’s length.
Jack Lange was an able American seaman who had once been impressed into
the British service, and the excitement of the moment was too much for
his feverish blood. Taking his cutlass in his teeth, he leaped atop a
gun and laid hold of the enemy’s nettings.
“Come out of that, sir! Wait for orders!” roared Captain Jones, who
wished to fire again.
But if Jack Lange heard he did not hesitate, and, despite the command,
hauled himself alone over the bows. Some of the men left their guns at
this and picked up pikes and boarding-axes.
Lieutenant Biddle glanced at his commander, the latter nodded grimly,
and with a spring the lieutenant gained the hammock cloth and reached
up for the ropes overhead. The vessels lurched and one of his feet
caught in a tangle, from which he vainly tried to free himself.
Little Midshipman Baker, who was too short to make a reach of it,
thought he saw his chance, and, laying hold of Lieutenant Biddle’s
coat-tails in his eagerness, tried to swarm up his superior’s legs.
The result was, however, that both fell back on the rail, and came
within an ace of pitching overboard into the sea. Jumping up quickly,
Lieutenant Biddle took advantage of a heave of the _Wasp_ and scrambled
over the enemy’s bowsprit on to the forecastle.
There stood Jack Lange, with his cutlass in his folded arms, gazing
at a wondrous sight. Not a living soul was on the deck but a wounded
man at the wheel and three officers huddled near the taffrail! But the
colors were still whipping and snapping overhead, and, two or three
more of the _Wasp’s_ boarders tumbling on board, the little party,
headed by Biddle, made their way aft. Immediately the officers, two
of whom were wounded, threw down their swords, and one of them leaned
forward and hid his face in his hands.