MONHEGAN ISLAND.
"From gray sea-fog, from icy drift,
From peril and from pain,
The home-bound fisher greets thy lights,
Oh hundred-harbored Maine!"
WHITTIER.
The most famous island you can find on the New England map is Monhegan
Island. To it the voyages of Weymouth, of Popham, and of Smith converge.
The latter has put it down as one of the landmarks of our coast. Rosier
calls it an excellent landfall. It is undoubtedly Monhegan that is seen
on the oldest charts of New England. Champlain, with the same aptness
and originality recognized in Mount Desert and Isle au Haut, names it La
Tortue. Take from the shelf Bradford, Winthrop, Prince, or Hubbard, and
you will find this island to figure conspicuously in their pages.
Bradford says starving Plymouth was succored from Monhegan as early as
1622. The Boston colonists of 1630 were boarded when entering Salem by a
Plymouth man, going about his business at Pemaquid. English fishing
ships hovered about the island for a dozen years before the _Mayflower_
swung to her anchorage in the "ice-rimmed" bay. The embers of some
camp-fire were always smouldering there.
Sailing once from Boston on a Penobscot steamboat, a few hours brought
us up with Cape Ann. I asked the pilot for what land he now steered.
"M'nhiggin."
In returning, the boat came down through the Mussel Ridge Channel like a
race-horse over a well-beaten course. We rounded Monhegan again, and
then steered by the compass. Monhegan is still a landmark.
A wintry passage is not always to be commended, especially when the
Atlantic gets unruly. Leaving the wharf on one well-remembered occasion,
we steamed down the bay in smooth water at fourteen miles an hour. All
on board were in possession of their customary equipoise. Soon the gong
sounded a noisy summons to supper. We descended. The cabin tables were
quickly occupied by a merry company of both sexes. There was a clatter
of plates and sharp clicking of knives and forks; waiters ran hither and
thither; the buzz of conversation and ripple of suppressed laughter
began to diffuse themselves with the good cheer, when, suddenly, the
boat, mounting a sea, fell off into the trough with a measured movement
that thrilled every victim of old Neptune to the marrow.
[Illustration: THATCHER'S ISLAND LIGHT AND FOG SIGNALS, CAPE ANN.]
It would be difficult to conceive a more instantaneous metamorphosis
than that which now took place. Maidens who had been chatting or
wickedly flirting, laid down their knives and forks and turned pale as
their napkins. Youths that were all smiles and attention to some
adorable companion suddenly behaved as if oblivious of her presence.
Another plunge of the boat! My _vis-a-vis_, an old gourmand, had
intrenched himself behind a rampart of delicacies. He stops short in the
act of carving a fowl, and reels to the cabin stairs. Soon he has many
followers. Wives are separated from husbands, the lover deserts his
mistress. A heavier sea lifts the bow, and goes rolling with gathered
volume astern, accompanied by the crash of crockery and trembling of the
chandeliers. That did the business. The commercial traveler who told me
he was never sea-sick laid down the morsel he was in the act of
conveying to his mouth. He tried to look unconcerned as he staggered
from the table, but it was a wretched failure. Two waiters, each bearing
a well-laden tray, were sent sliding down the incline to the leeward
side of the cabin, where, coming in crashing collision, they finally
deposited their burdens in a berth in which some unfortunate was already
reposing. All except a handful of well-seasoned voyagers sought the
upper cabins, where they remained pale as statues, and as silent. The
rows of deserted seats, unused plates, the joints sent away untouched,
presented a melancholy evidence of the triumph of matter over mind.
Early in the morning we made out Monhegan, as I have no doubt it was
descried from the mast-head of the _Archangel_, Weymouth's ship, two
hundred and seventy years ago. The sea was shrouded in vapor, so that we
saw the island long before the main-land was visible. Sea-faring people
call it high land for this part of the world.
Near the westward shore of the southern half of this remarkable island
is a little islet, called Mananas, which forms the only harbor it can
boast. Captain Smith says, "Between Monahiggon and Monanis is a small
harbour, where we rid." The entrance is considered practicable only from
the south, though the captain of a coasting vessel pointed out where he
had run his vessel through the ragged reefs that shelter the northern
end, and saved it. It was a desperate strait, he said, and the
by-standers shook their heads, in thinking on the peril of the
attempt.[59]
The inhabitants are hospitable, and many even well to do. Their harbor
is providentially situated for vessels that are forced on the coast in
heavy gales, and are able to reach its shelter. At such times exhausted
mariners are sure of a kind reception, every house opening its doors to
relieve their distresses. Having all the requirements of snug harboring,
excellent rock fishing, with room enough for extended rambling up and
down, the island must one day become a resort as famous as the Isles of
Shoals. At present there is a peculiar flavor of originality and
freshness about the people, who are as yet free from the money-getting
aptitudes of the recognized watering-place.
George Weymouth made his anchorage under Monhegan on the 18th of May,
1605. "It appeared," says Rosier, "a mean high land, as we afterward
found it, being an island of some six miles in compass, but, I hope, the
most fortunate ever yet discovered. About twelve o'clock that day, we
came to an anchor on the north side of this island, about a league from
the shore. About two o'clock our captain with twelve men rowed in his
ship-boat to the shore, where we made no long stay, but laded our boat
with dry wood of old trees upon the shore side, and returned to our
ship, where we rode that night." * * *
"This island is woody, grown with fir, birch, oak, and beech, as far as
we saw along the shore; and so likely to be within. On the verge grow
gooseberries, strawberries, wild pease, and wild rose-bushes. The water
issued forth down the cliffs in many places; and much fowl of divers
kinds breeds upon the shore and rocks."
The main-land possessed greater attraction for Weymouth. Thinking his
anchorage insecure, he brought his vessel the next day to the islands
"more adjoining to the main, and in the road directly with the
mountains, about three leagues from the island where he had first
anchored."
I read this description while standing on the deck of the _Katahdin_,
and found it to answer admirably the conditions under which I then
surveyed the land. We were near enough to make out the varied features
of a long line of sea-coast stretching northward for many a mile. There
were St. George's Islands, three leagues distant, and more adjoining to
the main. And there were the Camden Mountains in the distance.[60]
Weymouth landed at Pemaquid, and traded with the Indians there. In order
to impress them with the belief that he and his comrades were
supernatural beings, he caused his own and Hosier's swords to be touched
with the loadstone, and then with the blades took up knives and needles,
much mystifying the simple savages with his jugglery. It took, however,
six whites to capture two of the natives, unarmed and thrown off their
guard by feigned friendship.
But one compensation can be found for Weymouth's treachery in kidnaping
five Indians here, and that is in the assertion of Sir F. Gorges that
this circumstance first directed his attention to New England
colonization. At least two of the captive Indians found their way back
again. One returned the next year; another--Skitwarres--came over with
Popham. A strange tale these savages must have told of their adventures
beyond seas.[61]
Some credence has been given to the report of the existence of a rock
inscription on Monhegan Island, supposed by some to be a reminiscence
of the Northmen. The Society of Northern Antiquaries of Copenhagen has
reproduced it in their printed proceedings. The best informed American
antiquaries do not believe it to possess any archaeological significance.
I also heard of another of the "devil's foot-prints" on Mananas, but did
not see it.
Between Monhegan and Pemaquid Point was the scene of the sea-fight
between the _Enterprise_ and _Boxer_. Some of the particulars I shall
relate I had of eye-witnesses of the battle.
In September, 1814, the American brig _Enterprise_ quitted Portsmouth
roads. She had seen service in the wars with the French Directory and
with Algiers. She had been rebuilt in 1811, and had already gained the
name of a lucky vessel. Her cruising-ground was along the Maine coast,
where a sharp lookout was to be kept for privateers coming out of the
enemy's ports. In times past her commanders were such men as Sterrett,
Hull, Decatur, and Blakely, in whom was no more flinching than in the
mainmast.
Lieutenant Burrows, who now took her to sea, had been first officer of a
merchant ship and a prisoner to the enemy. As soon as exchanged he was
given the command of the _Enterprise_. He was a good seaman, bound up in
his profession, and the darling of the common sailors. Taciturn and
misanthropic among equals, he liked to disguise himself in a pea-jacket
and visit the low haunts of his shipmates. It was believed he would be
killed sooner than surrender.
The _Boxer_ had been fitted out at St. Johns with a view of meeting and
fighting the _Enterprise_. Every care that experience and seamanship
could suggest had been bestowed upon her equipment. She was, moreover, a
new and strong vessel. In armament and crews the two vessels were about
equal, the inferiority, if any, being on the side of the American. The
two brigs were, in fact, as equally matched as could well be. They were
prepared, rubbed down, and polished off, like pugilists by their
respective trainers. They were in quest of each other. The conquered,
however, attributed their defeat to every cause but the true one,
namely, that of being beaten in a fair fight on their favorite element.
The _Boxer_, after worrying the fishermen, and keeping the sea-coast
villages in continual alarm, dropped anchor in Pemaquid Bay on Saturday,
September 4th, 1814. There was then a small militia guard in old Fort
Frederick. The inhabitants of Pemaquid Point, fearing an attack,
withdrew into the woods, where they heard at evening the music played on
board the enemy's cruiser.
The next morning, a peaceful Sabbath, the lookout of the _Boxer_ made
out the _Enterprise_ coming down from the westward with a fair wind. In
an instant the Briton's decks were alive with men. Sails were let fall
and sheeted home with marvelous quickness, and the _Boxer_, with every
rag of canvas spread, stood out of the bay. From her anchorage to the
westward of John's Island, the _Boxer_, as she got under way, threw
several shot over the island into the fort by way of farewell. Both
vessels bore off the land about three miles, when they stripped to
fighting canvas. The American, being to windward, had the weather-gage,
and, after taking a good look at her antagonist, brought her to action
at twenty minutes past three o'clock in the afternoon. Anxious
spectators crowded the shores; but after the first broadsides, for the
forty minutes the action continued, nothing could be seen except the
flashes of the guns; both vessels were enveloped in a cloud. At length
the firing slackened, and it was seen the _Boxer's_ maintop-mast had
been shot away. The battle was decided.
This combat, which proved fatal to both commanders, was, for the time it
lasted, desperately contested. The _Enterprise_ returned to Portland,
with the _Boxer_ in company, on the 7th. The bodies of Captain Samuel
Blythe, late commander of the English brig, and of Lieutenant William
Burrows, of the _Enterprise_, were brought on shore draped with the
flags each had so bravely defended. The same honors were paid the
remains of each, and they were interred side by side in the cemetery at
Portland. Blythe had been one of poor Lawrence's pall-bearers.
[Illustration: GRAVES OF BURROWS AND BLYTHE, PORTLAND.]
This was the first success that had befallen the American navy since the
loss of the _Chesapeake_. It revived, in a measure, the confidence that
disaster had shaken. The _Boxer_ went into action with her colors nailed
to the mast--a useless bravado that no doubt cost many lives. Her ensign
is now among the trophies of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, while that
of the _Enterprise_ has but lately been reclaimed from among the
forgotten things of the past, to array its tattered folds beside the
flags of the _Bonhomme Richard_ and of Fort M'Henry.[62]
Among the recollections of his "Lost Youth," the author of "Evangeline,"
a native of Portland, tells us:
"I remember the sea-fight far away,
How it thundered o'er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves o'erlooking the tranquil bay,
Where they in battle died."
[Illustration: BURROWS'S MEDAL.]
FOOTNOTES:
[59] Monhegan lies nine miles south of the George's group, twelve
south-east from Pemaquid, and nine west of Metinic. It contains upward
of one thousand acres of land. According to Williamson, it had, in 1832,
about one hundred inhabitants, twelve or fourteen dwellings, and a
school-house. The able-bodied men were engaged in the Bank fishery; the
elders and boys in tending the flocks and tilling the soil. At that time
there was not an officer of any kind upon the island; not even a justice
of the peace. The people governed themselves according to local usage,
and were strangers to taxation. A light-house was built on the island in
1824.
[60] A good many arguments may be found in the "Collections of the Maine
Historical Society" as to whether Weymouth ascended the Penobscot or the
Kennebec. All assume Monhegan to have been the first island seen. This
being conceded, the landmarks given in the text follow, without
reasonable ground for controversy.
[61] In 1607 Weymouth was granted a pension of three shillings and
fourpence per diem. Smith was at Monhegan in 1614, Captain Dermer in
1619, and some mutineers from Rocroft's ship had passed the winter of
1618-'19 there. The existence of a small plantation is ascertained in
1622. In 1626 the island was sold to Giles Elbridge and Robert Aldworth
for fifty pounds.
[62] This flag inspired the national lyric, "The Star-spangled Banner."
[Illustration: GORGE, BALD HEAD CLIFF.]