States ports so many hundreds of British vessels that the printed
list makes quite a showing by itself. The names of the prizes taken,
their tonnage and value, were published in _Niles’s Weekly Register_,
of Baltimore, and each week during the progress of the war the
number grew, until it seemed that the stock of _Laughing Lassies_,
_Bouncing Besses_, _Arabellas_, _Lords_ something-or-other, _Ladies_
this or _Countesses_ of that, must surely be exhausted. In they
came to Baltimore, to New York, or Boston by the scores--brigs and
barks, schooners and ships, sloops and transports. Some were next
to worthless, some were valuable, and some were veritable floating
mines of wealth; some were heavily armed and had been captured after
fierce fighting; others had been picked up like ripe fruit and sent
home under prize-masters. Each one, however, was stamped with the
seal of her captor, who might be cruising anywhere from the China Sea
to the English Channel. Eager for racing, chasing, or fighting, the
American privateers were watching the highways of British commerce.
What did they care for armed consorts or guard-ships? They could show
a clean pair of heels to the fastest cruisers that carried the red
cross of St. George, or turn to and fight out of all proportion to
their appearance or size--and this latter was proved true in many
well-recorded instances. They were the kestrels and the game-cocks of
the sea. The names of some of them were familiar to every school-boy
eighty-odd years ago--_Revenge_, _Atlas_, _Young Eagle_, _Montgomery_,
_Teazer_, _Decatur_, _General Armstrong_, _Comet_. Here were some
tight little craft that caused their powder-monkeys fairly to smell of
prize-money on their return from each successful cruise.
All of these vessels were oversparred, overarmed, and overmanned. It
was the privateersman’s business to take risks, and many paid the
penalty for rashness; but their fearlessness and impudence were often
most astounding, and their self-reliance actually superb.
Up to the end of the first year of the war Maryland alone had sent
out more than forty armed vessels, and, as a writer in the _Weekly
Register_ naïvely remarks, “not one up to date has been even in
_danger_ of being captured, though frequently chased by British vessels
of war.”
But to come to the affair of the _Comet_, privateer, of Baltimore. Her
name had become familiar all along the Atlantic coast, her “winnings”
were anchored in almost every harbor, and she could have the pick of
the seamen lucky enough to be ashore at any place where she put in. Her
’tween-decks were crowded with extra crews and prize-masters to man
her captures when she sailed out again.
The _Comet_ was commanded by Captain Boyle, an intrepid sailor, and a
man liked and trusted by his crew of 120 well-trained tars. She was as
handy as a whip, and sailed like a cup-defender. She carried 6 guns in
a broadside, a swivel, and a gun amidships.
It was on the 9th of January, 1813, that Captain Boyle spoke a
Portuguese coasting-vessel which had just left the harbor of
Pernambuco, Brazil, and learned that in the harbor were three English
vessels loaded and ready to sail for Europe--one large armed ship and
two armed brigs.
Upon hearing this welcome news Captain Boyle shortened sail, and tacked
back and forth for five days, waiting and watching. On the 14th of the
month his sharp lookout was rewarded by the sight of not three but four
sail coming offshore before the wind. The _Comet_ sheered away to the
southward, and lay by, to give the strangers an opportunity of passing
her. When they had done so, she put after them. It was quite late in
the afternoon, a tremendous sea was running, and a freshening breeze
lifted the _Comet_ up the sides of the huge waves and raced her down
into the hollows. She overhauled the other vessels as if they had been
anchored. They kept close together, rising and then sinking hulls out
of sight in the great seas. They evidently had no fear of the little
vessel bearing down upon them, for they made no effort to spread their
lighter sails. The _Comet_ was under a press of canvas, and the water
was roaring and tumbling every now and then over her forward rails.
At six o’clock, or thereabouts, the reason for the leisurely movements
of the chase was discovered--one of the vessels was seen to be a
large man-of-war brig. She was hanging back, evidently awaiting the
American’s approach. The speed of the _Comet_ was not lessened, not a
stitch was taken in, but quickly the guns were loaded with round shot
and grape, and the decks were cleared for action. Then Captain Boyle
hoisted the American flag. The other hoisted Portuguese colors. As
the _Comet_ sheered up close, the stranger hailed and requested the
privilege of sending a boat on board, saying he wished to speak with
the American captain on a matter of importance.
Accordingly, the _Comet_ hove to, and her commander received the
Portuguese officer a few minutes later at the companion-way. The
conversation, in view of subsequent proceedings, must have been
extremely interesting. The officer was a little taken aback when he
saw the men standing stripped to the waist about the guns, the look of
determination and the man-o’-war appearance everywhere. But he doffed
his hat, and informed Captain Boyle sententiously that the vessel he
had just left belonged to His Majesty of Portugal, that she carried
twenty 32-pounders and a crew of 165 men.
Captain Boyle replied that he had admired her appearance greatly.
The Portuguese officer then went on to say that the three other vessels
ahead were English, and were under the protection of the commander of
his brig.
“By what right?” answered the captain of the _Comet_. “This is an
American cruiser. We are on the high seas, the highway of all nations,
and surely it belongs to America as much as to the King of Great
Britain or the King of Portugal.”
The officer upon this asked to see the _Comet’s_ authority from her
government. This Captain Boyle courteously showed to him. After reading
the papers carefully, the officer began to advise the American captain
in a manner that provoked the following reply: “I told him,” writes
Boyle, in the log-book of the _Comet_, “that I was determined to
exercise the authority I had, and capture those vessels if I could. He
said that he should be sorry if anything disagreeable took place; that
they were ordered to protect them, and should do so. I answered him
that I should equally feel regret that anything disagreeable should
occur; that if it did he would be the aggressor, as I did not intend
to fire upon him first; that if he did attempt to oppose me or to fire
upon me when trying to take those English vessels, we must try our
respective strengths, as I was well prepared for such an event and
should not shrink from it. He then informed me that those vessels were
armed and very strong. I told him that I valued their strength but
little, and would very soon put it to the test.”
What a fine old fighter this Baltimore captain must have been! Here
were four vessels, each of the three smaller ones as large as his own,
and one nearly twice as large, against him; the Portuguese mounting
twenty guns, the English ship fourteen, and the smaller brigs ten
guns apiece. Fifty-four guns against fourteen. But the American was
undaunted, and the Portuguese lieutenant rowed back to his ship.
Shortly afterwards the brig hailed again, asking Captain Boyle to lower
his boat and come on board.
“It is growing too dark!” shouted Captain Boyle through his
speaking-trumpet, and he squared his yards and made all sail for the
nearest English vessel--the big ship.
So fast a sailer was the _Comet_ and so quick in stays that she could
shuttle back and forth through the little fleet in a manner that, to
say the least, must have been confusing to the others. The moon was now
coming out bright as the sun went down; but little of daylight was left.
The _Comet_ came up handily with the English ship (the brigs were
sailing close by), and Boyle ordered her to back her main-topsail or
he would fire a broadside into her. So great was the headway of the
privateer, however, that she shot past, and had to luff about the
other’s bows, Boyle again hailing, and saying he was coming down on
the other side.
The man-of-war brig had crowded on all sail, and was hard after the
American; but the latter now let drive her broadside at the ship
and one of her smaller consorts, tacked quickly, and then found the
man-of-war close alongside. The Portuguese, disregarding the policy
of “minding one’s own business,” opened up her broadside upon the
American. The _Comet_ returned this with tremendous effect, and,
tacking, again let go her starboard battery at the third Englishman,
who was now closing in. Nothing but bad gunnery and good sailing must
have saved the daring little vessel at this moment. But she loaded
and fired, and the enemy appeared to be confused and frightened. The
_Comet_ stuck close to the English vessels, letting go whole broadsides
into them at point-blank distance, and firing at the man-of-war
whenever she came in range. The British vessels separated at last
to give their “protector” a better chance, but it availed them very
little. By the time the Portuguese was ready to fire the _Comet_
had spun about on her heel and was out of danger. It was the clever
boxer in a crowd of clumsy bumpkins. At eleven o’clock the big ship
surrendered, being cut almost to pieces and quite unmanageable. It was
broad moonlight; but the moon would soon go down, and in the ensuing
darkness Captain Boyle feared the others might escape him. As soon as
the ship hauled down her colors he gave the first brig a broadside
that ripped her bulwarks and cut away her running-gear. Immediately
down came her flag, and she surrendered also. She proved to be the
_Bowes_, of Liverpool.
The sea was yet running very high, but a boat was manned and lowered
away with a prize-crew, and made straight for the latest capture.
When the heavily laden boat was a short distance from the _Comet_,
around the bows of the captured ship came the man-of-war. She fired a
broadside at the rowboat, and nearly swamped it there and then; half
full of water, it returned to the _Comet_. Taking the boat’s crew on
board once more, the privateer headed for the Portuguese. Captain
Boyle’s blood was now up with a vengeance, and in the hot exchange that
followed the bumptious foreigner had so much the worst of it that he
withdrew from the engagement, and left the third English vessel to her
fate. Like the others, the last hauled down her flag to save herself
from further punishment. The situation was unusual. It was almost
pitch-dark, and, heaving about to leeward, the three captured vessels
were hardly discernible. The _Bowes_ was taken possession of, she
being the nearest, and the captain of the ship _George_, of Liverpool,
reported that he could hardly keep his vessel afloat. The other brig,
the _Gambier_, of Hull, was in much the same condition. Captain Boyle
determined to stand by them both until daybreak.
As soon as it was light, it was seen that the little fleet had drifted
in towards land, the wind having changed during the early morning. The
Portuguese had once more joined them, and made a feint of desiring
to fight again. The _Comet_ sailed to meet her; but the brig turned
tail, signalled the _George_ and the _Gambier_ to make for shore, and
followed as quickly as she could. Captain Boyle did not overtake them,
and the three reached Pernambuco in safety--the ship in a sinking
condition, the brig likewise, and the cockpit of the man-of-war, which
was badly cut up below and aloft, filled with dead and wounded. The
_Comet_ and the _Bowes_ reached the United States in safety, the former
making several more important captures, and sailing through the entire
English blockading squadron in the Chesapeake Bay to her wharf in the
city of Baltimore.
VII
THE “HORNET” AND THE “PEACOCK”
[February 24th, 1813]
[Illustration: MEDAL PRESENTED BY CONGRESS TO CAPTAIN JAMES LAWRENCE]
After Commodore Bainbridge sailed southward from Bahia on the cruise
in which he fell in with and captured His Britannic Majesty’s frigate
_Java_, Captain Lawrence of the United States sloop _Hornet_ had
hoped to coax the _Bonne Citoyenne_, the English armed ship he was
blockading, to leave the safe moorings which she kept so closely in
the harbor of San Salvador. Captain Lawrence prayed each day that
she might venture out and give his gunners a mark worthy of their
skill. One morning, as the little _Hornet_ was lifting and tugging at
her anchor in the rough water at the entrance to the outer harbor,
keeping a watchful eye on the spars of the _Bonne Citoyenne_ and on
those of another British packet of 12 guns that lay well inshore, a
huge cloud of canvas came in sight to the eastward. Spar and sail she
rose out of the horizon sky, until it was plainly seen that she was a
line-of-battle ship flying the English flag. The _Montagu_ (74) had
heard the news of the _Bonne Citoyenne’s_ plight, word having been
brought to her as she lay in the harbor of Rio Janeiro. Immediately
she had set sail for San Salvador to raise the blockade. Reluctantly
Captain Lawrence, on sight of her, got up his anchor and slipped into
the harbor. He did not stay there long, however, and, after tacking
about some time, escaped to sea that same night at nine o’clock. There
were no ships of the line in the American navy at that time, and,
perforce, the only thing left for any of our cruisers to do was to give
those of the enemy the widest berth. So Lawrence, in the _Hornet_,
shifted his cruising-grounds and went out into blue water. On the 4th
of February, 1813, he captured the British brig _Resolution_, of 10
guns, and, not caring to man her, he took out $23,000 in specie and
set her on fire. Then for over a week the _Hornet_ cruised to and fro
off the coast of Maranham without sighting a single sail. On the 22d
of February Lawrence stood for Demerara, and on the 24th he discovered
a brig off to leeward. At once he gave chase, but running into shallow
water, and having no pilot, he had to haul offshore, much to his
disgust, as the other vessel made her way in near the mouth of the
Demerara River, and anchored close to a small fort about two and a half
leagues from the outer bar, where the _Hornet_ had been forced to come
about. As the latter had done so, however, her lookout had discovered
a vessel at anchor half-way in towards the shore. A peep through the
glass showed her to be a brig of war with the English colors flying.
Captain Lawrence determined to get at her; but to do this he had to
beat to windward to avoid a wide shoal on which the waves were breaking
furiously. At 3 P.M., as he had about made up his mind that the vessel
at anchor and the _Hornet_ were surely to try conclusions, Lawrence
discovered another sail on his weather-quarter and edging down towards
him.
In a few minutes over an hour the new-comer hoisted English colors
also, and was seen to be a large man-o’-war brig. The _Hornet_ cleared
for action. As was usual in all naval actions when the wind was the
sole motive power, both vessels manoeuvred for a time, the _Hornet_
trying to win the advantage of the weather-gage from her antagonist.
But do his best Lawrence could not get it until another hour had
passed; then finding that the _Hornet_ was a better sailer than the
English brig, he came about. The two vessels passed each other on
different tacks at the distance of a few hundred feet--half pistol-shot.
Up to this time not a gun had been fired in the affair. But as they
came abreast they exchanged broadsides, the Englishman going high,
but the _Hornet’s_ round and grape playing havoc with the enemy’s
lower rigging. The brig held on for a few minutes, and then Lawrence
discovered her to be in the act of wearing. He seized his opportunity,
bore up, and receiving the starboard broadside, which did him little
damage, he took a position close under the brig’s starboard quarter.
So well directed was the vicious fire that was now poured into the
English vessel that in less than fifteen minutes down came her flag.
No sooner had it reached the deck, however, when another crawled
up in the fore-rigging. It was an ensign, union down; the brig was
sinking. The sea was heavy, and before a boat could be lowered down
came the Englishman’s main-mast. Lieutenant Shubrick, who had been on
the _Constitution_ when she captured the _Guerrière_ and the _Java_,
put out in one of the _Hornet’s_ boats, and soon reached the captured
vessel’s side, and found that she was H.B.M. brig _Peacock_, 22 guns,
commanded by Captain William Peake, who had been killed by the last
broadside from the _Hornet_. There was not one moment to lose; six feet
of water were in the hold, and the _Peacock’s_ decks were crowded with
dead and wounded. She was settling fast. Her anchor was let go, and the
_Hornet_ coming up, let go hers also close alongside. Every endeavor
was now made to save life; the men who a few minutes before had been
fighting one another pulled on the same rope together and manned the
same boats. The _Peacock’s_ guns were thrown overboard; such shot-holes
as could be got at were plugged; but the water gained despite the
furious men at the pumps and the bailing at the hatchways. The
_Peacock_ was doomed. The body of Captain Peake was carried into his
cabin and covered with the flag he had died so bravely defending, to
sink with her--“a shroud and sepulchre worthy so brave a sailor.” All
but some of the slightly wounded had been removed, and there remained
but a boat-load more to take off the lurching wreck, when she
suddenly pitched forward and sank in five and a half fathoms, carrying
down with her thirteen of her own crew and three American seamen--John
Hart, Joseph Williams, and Hannibal Boyd. Fine old down-east names,
mark you.
[Illustration: THE “PEACOCK” AND “HORNET” AT CLOSE QUARTERS]
A boat belonging to the _Peacock_ broke away with four of her crew in
it before the vessel sank. They probably tried to make their escape
to land. In writing about this little episode afterwards, Lawrence
says, “I sincerely hope they reached the shore; but from the heavy
sea running at the time, the shattered state of the boat, and the
difficulty of landing on the coast, I am fearful they were lost.”
Captain Lawrence’s treatment of his prisoners was such as uniformly
characterized the officers of our navy, “who won by their magnanimity
those whom they had conquered by their valor.”
The loss on board the _Hornet_, outside of the three seamen drowned,
was trifling--one man killed and three wounded, two by the explosion of
a cartridge. The vessel received little or no damage. All the time that
the action was being fought the other brig lay in full sight, about
six miles off (she proved afterwards to have been _L’Espiègle_, of 16
guns), but she showed no desire to enter into the conflict. Thinking
that she might wish to meet the _Hornet_ later, Lawrence made every
exertion to prepare his ship for a second action, and by nine o’clock a
new set of sails was bent, wounded spars secured, boats stowed away,
and the _Hornet_ was ready to fight again. At 2 A.M. she got under way,
and stood to the westward and northward under easy sail.
On mustering the next morning it was found that there were 277 souls on
board, including the crew of the American brig _Hunter_, of Portland,
Maine, captured by the _Peacock_ a few days before. The latter was one
of the finest vessels of her class in the English navy; she was broader
by five inches than the _Hornet_, but not so long by four feet. Her
tonnage must have been about the same. Her crew consisted of 130 men.
To quote from an account of the times which describes the return
of the victorious _Hornet_ to the United States: “The officers of
the _Peacock_ were so affected by the treatment they received from
Captain Lawrence that on their arrival at New York they made grateful
acknowledgment of it in the papers. To use their own phrase, ‘They
ceased to consider themselves prisoners.’ Nor must we omit to mention
a circumstance highly to the honor of the brave tars of the _Hornet_.
Finding that the crew of the _Peacock_ had lost all their clothing by
the sudden sinking of their vessel, they made a subscription, and from
their own chest supplied each man with two shirts and a blue jacket and
trousers. Such may rough sailors be made when they have before them the
example of high-minded men.”
It was not long before poor Lawrence was to be borne on the shoulders
of his enemies and laid to rest, with all honors, in a foreign soil,
a last return of the courtesy he had extended to all those whom the
fortunes of war had placed under his care and keeping.
VIII
THE “CHESAPEAKE” AND THE “SHANNON”
[June 1st, 1813]
“Let shouts of victory for laurels won
Give place to grief for Lawrence, Valor’s son.
The warrior who was e’er his country’s pride
Has for that country bravely, nobly died.”
--_From “An Elegy in Remembrance of James Lawrence,
Esquire,” published in June, 1813._
New Jersey claims the honor of being the birthplace of Captain James
Lawrence, at one time the idol of the naval service. Captain Lawrence
was born at Burlington, being the youngest son of John Lawrence,
Esq. Although at the age of twelve he manifested a desire to become
a sailor, his wish was not gratified until five years later, when,
abandoning the study of law, he took up that of navigation, and
received a warrant as midshipman on the 4th of September, 1798.
He made one voyage on the ship _Ganges_, under Captain Tingey, and
after two years of cruising in various vessels he was made an acting
lieutenant on board the frigate _Adams_, where he continued until the
reduction of the naval force began, and then, his appointment not being
confirmed, he once more found himself a midshipman.
Lawrence, like many a good officer, appeared to be continually at
loggerheads with the department at Washington. He objected to this
first reduction, and in 1801 his objection was sustained, and he
sailed to the Mediterranean as first lieutenant of the schooner
_Enterprise_ in 1803. All through the war with Tripoli he conducted
himself with such bravery as to bring commendation from all his
superiors. As an example of his spirit and fearlessness an incident
is well worth quoting. After he had returned with Commodore Preble
he was not allowed to rest long in idleness; again he was sent to
the Mediterranean, for what reason it would be hard to state; he was
hastened away in command of one of the foolishly constructed gunboats
that did not even rejoice in the dignity of possessing a name, being
merely known on the register as “No. 6.” None of these vessels was
qualified to take to the sea. They were built on the model of great
rowboats, and wallowed and tossed and pitched, and behaved in every
way that a vessel ought not to when under sail. The one big gun they
carried amidships on deck rendered them top-heavy, and, as some one
wrote at the time, “the leeway they gathered discounted the log.” But
Lawrence grimly accepted the duty assigned to him, and set out at once.
A few months afterwards one of his brother officers wrote in a letter
to a relation in the army, saying, “Lawrence has told me that when he
went on board the gunboat he had not the faintest idea that he would
ever arrive out to the Mediterranean in her, or indeed arrive anywhere
else. He also told me that on the coast of Europe he met an English
frigate, the captain of which would not at first believe that he had
crossed the Atlantic in such a vessel.”
But he crossed safely, however, and cruised about in his cockle-shell
for some sixteen months. Immediately after his return Lawrence was
made first lieutenant of the frigate _Constitution_; then transferred
to the schooner _Vixen_, of which he was given the command; whence he
went to the brig _Argus_, and at last to the sloop _Hornet_. Twice he
was sent to Europe in the latter with despatches to our ministers. Upon
the outbreak of the war Lawrence was yet in command of the _Hornet_,
which was one of the squadron of five sail that set out under Commodore
Rodgers in the unsuccessful attempt to intercept the Jamaica fleet.
Much upset in his mind by the promotion of a junior officer over
his head, only Lawrence’s patriotism and loyalty prevented him from
resigning from the service. The Senate restored him to his proper
number on the list, however, and he sailed with Commodore Bainbridge in
the cruise to the south, from which he returned soon after the capture
of the _Peacock_.
In all history it is customary to count the incidents of unsuccessful
but heroic resistance to the honor and glory of the nation. The
historians of Great Britain in all their works rightly take this stand
in detailing the actions between their vessels and those of the little
navy of the United States. There is on record in our annals the story
of an unsuccessful engagement that cannot but reflect credit on our
naval officers and our flag.
Jack Tars are more superstitious than any other class of men. They fear
Friday, and are on the constant lookout for omens and portents. Give
a ship an unlucky name and it counts against her in securing a good
crew. The _Chesapeake_ was an unlucky vessel. On the 22d of June, 1807,
manned by a green crew under the command of Commodore Barron, she had
left Hampton Roads. This was during the time that England was employing
her assumed “Right of Search,” that led to the struggle five years
later.