This naval action, fought in the vicinity of Valparaiso, during our
last war with Great Britain, is so remarkable for the circumstances
attending it, and for the pertinacity of the American defence against
superior force, that, although not a decisive battle, we have thought
it right to insert it here.
Few Englishmen would now attempt to uphold the breach of neutrality
committed by the two English ships upon the Essex, with her anchor down
upon Chilian soil, and with the Spanish flag flying upon forts and
batteries within sight. But, as it was not the first, so it is not the
last time that England has infringed such laws, where she has been able
to do so with impunity.
The United States frigate Essex, 32, sailed from the Capes of the
Delaware October, 6th, 1812, upon a cruise, the object and destination
of which were kept profoundly secret. Her destination was the
Pacific--still called the “South Seas”--the navigation of which was
still comparatively unknown; new islands being constantly discovered,
the inhabitants of which had never seen any other men than their fellow
islanders.
The object of the cruise was to destroy the “South-sea-men,” or
whalers, of Great Britain; as well as the traders of the same
nation, and thus inflict a heavy blow upon a sensitive part of an
Englishman--his pocket.
The story of the cruise, by Captain Porter, the Commander of the Essex;
with his passage to the Cape Verde Islands, the Coast of Brazil, around
Cape Horn into the Pacific, and his operations there; together with the
incidents of his stay at the Gallapagos and Washington groups, and his
numerous captures, read like a romance of the sea. Yet it is all true;
and the account is written in a circumstantial manner, with day and
date, by a genuine and successful sailor.
This cruise is memorable for another reason--that Farragut, afterwards
the greatest naval commander of his day, made his first cruise then,
and witnessed his first naval action, while still a child, deporting
himself with the coolness and gallantry which ever afterwards
distinguished him.
David Porter, the Commander of the Essex, was born in Boston, in 1780,
and was at this time thirty-three years of age--that glorious period of
life which combines the fire and ability of youth with the experience
and self-control derived from contact with the world. He entered the
navy in 1798, and was a midshipman in the Constellation, in her action
with the French frigate Insurgente, in February, 1799. He afterwards
served on the West India station, as a Lieutenant, and had many
conflicts, in the schooner Experiment, with the pirates and privateers
which, at that time, and long after, infested those waters. In 1801 he
was in the schooner Enterprize, and, off Malta, he captured, after an
engagement of three hours, a Tripolitan cruiser of fourteen guns.
Soon after, in a boat expedition, at Tripoli, he was wounded for the
second time; and in October, 1803, he was captured in the frigate
Philadelphia, and remained a prisoner until the war closed.
He was made a captain in 1812, and appointed to the Essex.
After the war with England, Porter became a member of the Board of Navy
Commissioners, but resigned that post to take command of an expedition
against the West Indian pirates. He was court-martialed for exceeding
his powers during this cruise, and sentenced to be suspended for six
months.
Upon this he resigned his commission and entered the Mexican service
as Naval Commander-in-chief. After serving there for some years he
returned to the United States in 1829, and was made United States
Consul General for the Barbary States. He was afterwards transferred
to Constantinople as _Chargé d’Affaires_, and soon became Minister
Resident.
He died in Constantinople, in March, 1843, and his remains were brought
home in a man-of-war, and interred in the Naval Asylum grounds.
And now, to return to the Essex and her cruise. All Americans should
read Porter’s account, which vies in interest with those of Anson or La
Peyrouse, the difference being that their sole object was discovery,
while Porter had principally in view the crippling of his enemy’s
resources. His attack upon British interests in that part of the globe
was entirely unexpected, and the unbounded rage of the English was
excited when they learned, from prisoners sent in cartels, that such
wholesale destruction was going on, and their trade being completely
annihilated; and they hastened to take means to stop Porter’s career.
The latter, in the meantime, was living off the enemy, showing
the greatest activity and resource, maintaining discipline under
exceptional circumstances, and keeping his crew in good humor, with
much tact and knowledge of sailor character.
In those days no docks or dockyards were to be found anywhere south of
the line. Ports were few and not much frequented, for fear of blockade.
Necessary food, sea-stores, rigging and material for repairs were,
indeed, as far as Porter was concerned, only to be obtained by capture,
and it required a man not only of pluck and nautical ability, but of
resources in many other directions, to make such a cruise as he did. At
the last, through no fault of his, he was overwhelmed in a harbor which
should have afforded him security, and the career of the Essex brought
to an end by a shameful violation of neutrality.
In the course of his cruise, Porter had seized and disarmed a Peruvian
corvette, which had been preying upon American whalers, and then
sent her away with a caution. He had also seized and disposed of, in
different ways, English “South-sea-men,” aggregating 3369 tons, with
302 men and 107 guns; had provisioned his own crew and partly paid his
men, from the prizes. One of the latter, the Atlantic, he had fitted
out for cruising, under his first lieutenant, Mr. Downes, re-naming her
Essex Junior. This ship mounted 20 guns and was efficient as a cruiser
against merchantmen and whalers, but was not expected to stand an
engagement.
Porter had sent Downes, with some prizes, to Valparaiso, and upon his
return the latter reported that Commodore James Hillyar, an English
officer of experience, ability and courage, had been sent out in the
frigate Phœbe, of 36 guns, to look for the American frigate, her work
having caused great consternation when the news of it reached England.
The English sloops Raccoon and Cherub were also despatched to the
Pacific, under Hillyar’s orders.
The Essex being in much need of repairs after her long and stirring
cruise, Porter determined to put her in as good condition as his
resources permitted, and then seek to bring the enemy to action, if he
could meet him on anything like equal terms.
He, therefore, went to Nukahivah, or Madison’s Island, in the
Washington group, which had been discovered by Captain Ingraham, of
Boston. Here he caulked his ship and overhauled the rigging, made new
water casks, and took from his prizes provisions and stores for four
months.
On the 12th of December, 1813, he sailed for the coast of Chili, and
arrived on January 12th, 1814. He could hear nothing of the British
squadron reported to be looking for him. Some persons even supposed
that they had been lost in trying to double Cape Horn. At this period
Porter had completely broken up British navigation in the Pacific, as
those vessels which had not been captured by him were laid up, and
dared not venture out of port.
He had, in the meantime, afforded ample protection and assistance to
our own ships. The English whale fishery was entirely destroyed, and
now a squadron was coming out to look for him, involving very great
expense. As has been said, he had lived upon the enemy, and had been
obliged to draw no bills, but, on the contrary, had been able to
advance pay to both officers and crew.
Considering how much they had been at sea, his crew was very healthy,
and he had had but one case of scurvy, then the curse of cruising
ships. Two officers only had been lost: the Surgeon, from disease, and
a Lieutenant, killed in a duel; while eight seamen and marines had been
lost from sickness and ordinary casualties.
Porter believed that Hillyar would try to keep his arrival in the
Pacific secret, and seek him at Valparaiso, and he, therefore, cruised
in that neighborhood, where he hoped also to capture some merchant
vessels expected from England.
On the 3d of February the Essex anchored in Valparaiso bay, and
exchanged the usual salutes and civilities with the Spanish authorities.
These appeared civil, and even cordial, and the governor duly returned
Captain Porter’s visit.
The Essex Junior was directed to cruise off the port, for the twofold
purpose of intercepting the enemy’s merchant vessels, and of informing
Porter immediately of the appearance of any of their men-of-war. Then
work began, to put the Essex in order, after which liberty was given
to the crew. The people of Valparaiso showed great civility, and this
was returned by an entertainment on board the Essex, in which the Essex
Junior participated, but kept a sharp lookout at the same time. They
danced until midnight, and the Essex Junior then went outside.
Next morning they had not had time to take down the awnings, flags and
decorations spread for the party, when the Essex Junior signalized
two English ships in sight. At this time half the Essex’ crew were on
shore, on liberty. A gun was fired as a signal for their return, and
the ship restored to her usual condition as soon as possible. Porter
went out in the Essex Junior to reconnoitre, and found that both the
English vessels appeared to be frigates; returning at once, he anchored
the tender near the Essex, and prepared for mutual defence. When he
returned to his own ship, at about 7.30 A.M., he had the gratification
of not only finding the ship prepared for action, but _every man_
on board. He felt great doubts about the English respecting the
neutrality of the port, but resolved to act upon the defensive entirely.
At 8 A. M. the two English ships, a frigate and sloop of war, came into
the harbor. The frigate, which proved to be the Phœbe, ranged alongside
the Essex, within a few yards, and between her and the Essex Junior.
The Phœbe was seen to be all ready for action.
Captain Hillyar hailed, and politely inquired after Captain Porter’s
health, and the usual compliments were exchanged between them.
Captains Hillyar and Porter had been acquainted in the Mediterranean.
Among the American officers at that time on the station, no British
officer was so much liked as Hillyar, and his family was visited,
at Gibraltar, by Porter and many others. On one occasion Hillyar’s
family had gone, as passengers, with Commodore Rodgers, from Malta to
Gibraltar. The relations between the two Captains, thus brought face to
face, with tompions out and matches lighted, were rather peculiar.
Finding the Phœbe approaching nearer the Essex than either prudence
or the neutrality of the port would permit, Porter called to Hillyar
that the Essex was all ready for action, and that he should act on the
defensive.
Hillyar replied, in an off-hand way, “Oh, I have no intention of
getting on board of you.”
Porter replied that if he did fall on board of him there would be much
blood shed. Hillyar merely called out again that he had no intention of
falling on board the Essex. Porter, finding that he was luffing up so
much as to cause his ship to be taken aback, and her jib-boom coming
over the Essex’ forecastle, called, “All hands to board the enemy;”
directing them, if the ships touched, to spring on board the Phœbe. The
latter vessel was now in a precarious condition, for not a gun of hers
could be brought to bear upon either of the American vessels, while her
bow was exposed to the raking fire of one, and her stern to that of the
other. The Phœbe’s consort, the Cherub, of 28 guns, was too far off to
leeward to afford any assistance. The Phœbe had been informed, by a
boat which had pulled out from an English merchant ship, that the Essex
was in great confusion, from the entertainment of the night before, and
that half her crew were on shore, on liberty.
Great was the surprise of the Englishmen, then, when they saw a full
crew ready to board them, and kedge-anchors triced up to the yard-arms,
ready to drop and grapple them.
Captain Hillyar at once sang out that he had no intention of boarding;
that it was an accident that his ship was taken aback, and that he was
sorry to be put in an equivocal situation, and had no hostile intention.
The Phœbe was, at this moment, entirely at the mercy of the Essex; and
Porter could have destroyed her. The temptation was great to do so.
Porter would have been justified, upon the plea of self-defence; but
Captain Hillyar’s assurances disarmed him, and Porter at once hailed
the Essex Junior, and ordered Captain Downes not to begin firing
without orders. Captain Hillyar was then allowed to extricate his ship
from her disagreeable position; the Phœbe separating from the Essex,
and drifting by the American vessels, constantly exposed to their
raking fire, to finally anchor on the east side of the harbor, just
within shot of the Essex’ 18-pounders, but beyond the reach of her
carronades. The Cherub anchored quite close upon the port bow of the
Essex; whereupon Porter ordered the Essex Junior to so place herself
that the Cherub would be between two fires; an arrangement which seems
to have excited the ineffectual anger of Captain Tucker, the Commander
of the smaller English vessel.
Porter tells us that, on going on shore, great astonishment was
expressed by the officials and people of Valparaiso, that he had not
taken advantage of the opportunity, and destroyed his enemy. Porter
replied that he respected the neutrality of the port, and should
continue to do so. He had reason, not very long after, to regret his
moderation.
When on shore in Valparaiso Porter generally staid at Senor Blanco’s,
and the two British Captains paid him a visit there, on the day
after their arrival. This visit was returned, and a rather friendly
intercourse was soon established, not only between the Commanders, but
the officers of the respective ships, whenever they met on shore--their
conduct being such that no one could have supposed that they belonged
to nations at war with each other.
At the first meeting on shore, Porter told Hillyar that it was
important to know whether he (Hillyar) intended to respect the
neutrality of the port. Hillyar replied, very emphatically, “_You_ have
paid so much respect to the neutrality of the port that I feel myself
bound in honor to respect it.”
Porter rejoined that his assurance was sufficient, and that he should
henceforth feel at his ease, and not always prepared for action.
The English frigate had hoisted a flag (motto flags were then the
fashion), bearing the words, “God and country; British sailors’ best
rights; traitors offend both.” Porter asked Hillyar what the flag
meant, and was informed that it was a reply to Porter’s motto, “Free
trade and sailors’ rights,” which was particularly offensive to the
British navy; and that he should always hoist it when Porter hoisted
his. The next time the English motto was hoisted Porter replied with a
flag having, “God, our Country, and Liberty--tyrants offend them,” and
each ship gave three cheers for their flag.
In spite of all this, personal intercourse and apparent good feeling
continued between the two Captains. They discussed the objects of the
British squadron; their long hunt for Porter, and the present status.
This intercourse between public enemies was, in fact, a very curious
thing.
Hillyar asked Porter what he intended to do with his prizes; when he
was going to sea; and other pertinent and delicate questions of a like
nature.
Porter told him that whenever he sent away the Cherub the Essex would
go to sea, and that his sailing day would be fixed by Captain Hillyar.
Once met, Porter said he would test the force of the two ships, but
as the Essex was smaller than the Phœbe, he would not be justified to
his country in losing his ship, and so would not challenge him. If,
however, the Captain of the Phœbe would send away the Cherub and then
challenge the Essex, he (Porter) would be willing to fight. No doubt
all this was discussed over a cigar and a glass of wine, but this we
can only conjecture.
Hillyar said that success in naval actions depended upon so many
accidents, and that the loss of a spar or mast sometimes determined the
fate of the day, so he should trust to chance to bring the two ships
together; that he was not disposed to yield the advantage of superior
force, and should blockade Porter until other English men-of-war
arrived, and at all events prevent him from doing further mischief to
British commerce.
Porter told Hillyar that his prizes were only an encumbrance to him
under the circumstances, and that some time he should take them out to
sea and destroy them. To this Hillyar rejoined that he dare not do so
with him in sight. Porter merely answered, “We shall see.”
As Hillyar was determined to lose none of the advantage of superior
force, and it was known that other ships were soon coming to join him,
Porter endeavored still to provoke the English Commodore to challenge
him to a single contest.
The Cherub lying near the Essex, the crews sang original songs directed
at each other. It is said that the Yankee songs had the most point,
which is likely, for the average English nautical mind is not very
brilliant. The officers encouraged this amusement, which took place in
the fine, calm first watches, to the frequent annoyance of the English
and the great amusement of neutrals. Captain Hillyar requested Porter
to put a stop to it, but the latter refused to do so unless the Cherub
ceased first.
At length the quasi-friendly relations between the Commanders became
very much “strained,” as the diplomatists say, by the harboring of
an escaped prisoner from the Essex on board the Cherub. This led to
an exchange of strongly-worded letters. Porter and Hillyar continued
to meet on shore quite frequently, and at this time Porter proposed
an exchange of prisoners by sending one of the prizes to England as
a cartel, to bring thence to the United States an equal number. This
proposition came to nothing, but Porter liberated his English prisoners
on condition that they should not serve until exchanged; and Hillyar
undertook to write to England and have as many Americans liberated.
In the meantime the Essex Junior had gone outside to reconnoitre a
strange sail, and was very nearly cut off by the English vessels both
going out, but the Essex manned her boats, sent them out and towed her
in in safety.
The English ships then continued to cruise outside, and Porter, to try
his rate of sailing with them, chose an opportunity, when they were
well to leeward, to get under way and let them chase him. He found
he could outsail them both, and could escape at almost any time, but
he was led to remain in Valparaiso by the hope of bringing the Phœbe
to single action. This resolution, though chivalric, was not exactly
prudent.
One day Porter towed the ship Hector, a prize, to sea. The two British
ships were then far in the offing, and Porter had the prize set on
fire. He then returned to his anchorage, unmolested, although the
English made every exertion to come up with him. This insult seemed to
have the desired effect, and on the afternoon of the 22d of February,
1814, the Cherub was seen to be about three miles to leeward of the
harbor, while the Phœbe was standing in alone. At 5 P.M. she hove
about, a short distance from the Essex, with head off shore, shortened
sail, fired a gun to windward (a nautical challenge), and hoisted her
motto flag.
Porter instantly accepted the challenge, hoisted his motto, fired a gun
and got under way.
The Phœbe made sail and stood off shore, while Porter followed,
under all sail. He was nearing the English frigate fast, when to his
astonishment, she bore off before the wind, and ran down for her
consort. Porter fired two shots across her fore-foot, but they did not
bring her to, and the Essex hauled her wind and returned to port, where
she anchored before the two British vessels could reach her.
Porter did not spare some caustic remarks upon this affair, and they
reached Hillyar, through British residents on shore.
Defiant letters were interchanged between the ships’ companies. Porter
wrote to Hillyar, and Hillyar to Porter, and, as was natural, angry
feelings increased.
About the middle of March the First Lieutenant of the Phœbe (who was
afterwards killed in the action) came on board the Essex, under a flag
of truce, with a message from Captain Hillyar.
Presuming it was a challenge, Porter required the presence of some of
his officers, and then asked the English officer the purport of his
message.
The Englishman said that Captain Hillyar had heard that Captain Porter
had publicly stated that Hillyar had acted in a cowardly manner, by
running away from the Essex after challenging her, but that he could
not believe the report, and had sent his first Lieutenant to ascertain
the truth.
Porter at once told him that he had said so, and still thought so.
The English Lieutenant then stated that he was instructed to tell
Captain Porter that the hoisting the flag and firing the gun, by the
Phœbe, was not intended as a challenge, but as a signal to her consort.
Porter replied that Captain Hillyar had informed him that the flag was
intended for the Essex, and there “was not a man, woman nor child in
Valparaiso who did not think it a challenge.” The Lieutenant repeated
that Captain Hillyar desired him to assure Captain Porter that it was
not intended for a challenge.
Porter said he was bound to believe Captain Hillyar, if he said so; but
that he should always consider such a proceeding a challenge: and that,
whenever he chose to send away the Cherub, and repeat the manœuvre,
he should act as he had before done. The Lieutenant once more assured
Porter that it was not a challenge, and that Captain Hillyar did not
approve of challenges, as he was a religious man.
Such a state of things as we have been describing could not, of course,
last very long.
Exasperation was fast taking the place of self-control, on both sides;
and as more British vessels were expected, it was necessary for Porter
to take some decided step. A crisis was evidently approaching.
The relative strength of the two nations, in Valparaiso, was then as
follows:--
The Phœbe carried thirty long eighteens; sixteen thirty-two pound
carronades; one howitzer, and six three-pounders in the tops; in all,
fifty-three guns. Her crew consisted of three hundred and twenty men.
The Cherub carried eighteen thirty-two pound carronades; eight
twenty-fours; two long nines; and had a crew of one hundred and eighty
men.
On the American side, the Essex mounted forty-six guns. Forty of these
were thirty-two pound carronades, and six were long twelves. Her crew,
reduced by those in prizes, was only two hundred and fifty-five men.
The Essex Junior, built for whaling, was principally a store-ship, or
tender. She mounted twenty guns, taken from captured whalers. Ten of
these were eighteen-pound carronades, and ten were short sixes. She had
a crew of sixty men.
For six weeks the English ships had been mostly under way, and
cruising off the port; and Porter was finally induced to put to
sea by the certain intelligence that the Tagus, 38, and two other
English frigates, were on their way to the Pacific. The Raccoon was
also expected; which sloop had been sent up to the northwest Coast
of America for the purpose of destroying the American Fur Company’s
establishment, on the Columbia river.
Having agreed upon a rendezvous where he could meet the Essex Junior,
Porter determined to allow the two British vessels to chase him off the
coast, and thereby to permit his tender to escape.
On March 28th the wind came out fresh from the southward, and the Essex
parted one of her cables, and dragged the other anchor directly out to
sea; so that it was necessary to get sail on the ship instantly. The
enemy were, at the time, close in with the western point of the bay;
but when Porter had made sail, and opened them, he saw a chance of
passing them to windward; and, taking in top-gallant-sails, which had
been set over single-reefed top-sails, he braced up for that purpose.
Unfortunately, as the Essex came up with the point, and was passing it,
it happened (as it often does in such localities) that a heavy squall
struck the ship, and carried away her main-top-mast; and all the men
aloft, furling the top-gallant-sail, were lost.
Admiral Farragut said, in after years, that the reason why they lost
the main-top-mast was, that the yard jammed, and would not come down
when the halliards were let go--the top-gallant-sail being clewed down.
The loss of this spar was most disastrous. Both the English ships
at once gave chase, and the crippled Essex endeavored to regain the
port. Finding he could not reach the usual anchorage, Porter ran into
a small bay, about three-quarters of a mile to leeward of a small
Chilian battery, on the east side of the harbor, and anchored within
pistol-shot of the shore; intent upon repairing damages as soon as
possible. The enemy’s vessels continued to approach, and showed every
intention of attacking him, regardless of the fact that the Essex was
anchored close to neutral shores. They bore down with caution, however,
hoisting a number of motto flags and jacks.
Porter went to quarters and got his ship clear of the wreck and ready
for action as soon as possible, but he had not time to get a spring
upon his cable, for at about 4 P. M. the attack was made, the Phœbe
assuming a position under the Essex’ stern, and the Cherub one on
her starboard bow. Their fire was promptly returned, and the Cherub
soon found her position a hot one, and she bore up to join the Phœbe
under the Essex’ stern, whence they delivered a severe raking fire.
The Essex could not get her broadside to bear, but fought three long
twelve-pounders out of the stern ports, which were worked with such
bravery, skill and rapidity, that in half an hour both English ships
were obliged to draw off to repair damages.
During the firing, the Essex succeeded, by dint of great exertion, in
getting a spring upon the cable no less than three times, but the fire
of the enemy was so heavy that it was each time shot away before her
broadside could be brought to bear.
The Essex was already much damaged and had a good many killed and
wounded, but the ship’s company were in good spirits, and though they
were caught at such a disadvantage, resolved to resist to the last.
The gaff, with the motto flag and ensign, had been shot away, but “Free
Trade and Sailor’s Rights” continued to fly at the fore. The ensign
was now made fast in the main rigging, and several jacks displayed
at different points. The enemy soon repaired damages and were ready
to renew the attack, and both his ships now placed themselves on
the Essex’ starboard quarter, out of the reach of her broadside
carronades, and where her stern guns would not bear. They then opened
and kept up a galling fire, which the Essex could not return at all,
and there was no chance for the American ship, unless she could get
underway and assail in turn. The Essex’ top-sail sheets and halliards
were all shot away, as well as the jib and stay-sail halliards. Indeed,
the only rope of that kind not cut was the flying-jib halliards. This,
the only available sail, was set, the cable cut, and Porter steered
down upon the English vessels, intending to lay the Phœbe aboard.
The firing on both sides was now incessant. Porter let fall his
fore-top-sail and fore-sail, but the want of tacks and sheets rendered
them almost useless. Yet he approached his enemy slowly, and although
the decks were thickly strewn with dead, and the cockpit filled with
wounded, and although the ship had been several times on fire and was
almost a wreck, they still had some hopes, for the Cherub was just then
compelled to haul off. This ship did not come into close action again,
although she kept up a distant fire from her long guns. The disabled
state of the Essex enabled the Phœbe, by edging off, to choose her own
distance, and use her long guns, with which she kept up a tremendous
fire, which mowed down the Essex’ crew in a fearful way. Farragut,
in his recollections, praises the Surgeons for their coolness and
dexterity, although they had, at this time, patients killed under their
hands.
Many of the American guns had been rendered useless, and many had their
entire crews destroyed by this fire.
The remaining guns were again manned, however, and one gun was three
times re-manned--fifteen people having been killed at that one piece
during the action. The captain of this same gun alone escaped, with a
slight scratch.
Finding that the enemy had it in his power to choose his distance, and
thus destroy him at leisure, and as the wind at the moment favored,
Porter determined to run his ship on shore, land his men, and destroy
her. When he was within musket-shot of the beach the wind suddenly
shifted right off shore, and paid the Essex off, with her head towards
the Phœbe; exposing her again to a deadly raking fire.
The Essex was by this time totally unmanageable, yet as her head was
towards the enemy, and the latter was to leeward, Porter still had a
faint hope that he might be able to board her.
Just then Lieutenant Downes, the Commander of the Essex Junior,
thinking that the Essex would soon be taken, pulled out in his boat,
and came on board to receive Porter’s orders. In the wretched condition
of the ship Downes could be of no use, and finding that the enemy had
put his helm up and ran off, so that he could not board her, Porter
directed Downes to return to his own ship, prepare for her defence,
and if necessary, destroy her. Downes, therefore, took several of the
wounded, left three of his own crew, and rejoined the Essex Junior.
The slaughter on board the Essex was now horrible; and the enemy
continued to rake her, while she could not bring a gun to bear.
Porter then bent a hawser to his sheet-anchor, and cut the anchor away,
thus bringing her head round.
Her broadside was then again brought to bear, and as the Phœbe was
much crippled, and unable to hold her own, it is probable he would
have drifted out of gunshot before he discovered that the Essex had
anchored again, had not the hawser unfortunately parted. The case of
the Essex now seemed hopeless. Several fires had been extinguished
during the engagement; but now fire made headway both forward and aft;
and flames, supposed to come from near the magazine, were shooting up
the hatchways. At this juncture they were about three-quarters of a
mile from the shore, and there was a bare chance for those of the crew
who could swim well to reach the land. The boats were all destroyed by
the enemy’s shot, and the fire was now burning fiercely, close to the
after magazine.
Orders were given for those who could swim to jump overboard and make
for the shore. Many did so, some with clothes already on fire. Some
reached the beach, some were captured by the enemy’s boats, and some
perished. Most of the surviving officers and crew preferred to share,
with the Captain, the fate of the ship. These were now wholly employed
in endeavors to extinguish the flames; and in this they finally
succeeded.
They then once more manned the guns, and renewed the engagement; but
the crew were now so weakened that all saw the impossibility of further
resistance, and entreated Captain Porter to surrender, as the ship
was entirely disabled, and such a step was necessary, to save the
wounded. Porter sent for the division officers, to consult them; but
found only Lieutenant McKnight remaining. He confirmed the reports of
the bad condition of the ship, below, and the disabled state of the
guns, and their crews. Lieutenant Wilmer had been knocked overboard
by a splinter, while getting the sheet-anchor overboard, and had been
drowned, after fighting gallantly through the whole action. Acting
Lieutenant Cowell had lost a leg. The Sailing Master, Mr. Barnewell,
was badly wounded. Acting Lieutenant Odenheimer had been knocked
overboard, but managed to sustain himself upon some floating wreck, not
succeeding, however, in regaining the ship until after her surrender.
The cockpit, steerage, wardroom, and berth-deck were full of wounded;
some of whom were killed while the Surgeons were operating upon them.
More than this, it was evident that unless something was done the ship
must soon sink, with all on board, from the numerous shot-holes below
the water line.
The Carpenter reported that all his men were either killed or wounded;
and he himself had narrowly escaped drowning, as the slings in which
he was suspended, while overboard, stopping shot-holes, had been shot
away. It was impossible to reach the enemy with the carronades; while
they, from the smoothness of the water, and immunity from shot, were
enabled to use their long guns upon the Essex, as upon a target.
It is said that, at this time, Lieutenant Ingram, of the Phœbe, wanted
Captain Hillyar to bear down and board the Essex--saying it was
deliberate murder to lie off and fire in this way. This gallant English
officer was killed, among the last, that day.
The American ship continued to be hulled at every shot, and was cut up
in a way seldom witnessed. In a word, there was no hope of saving her,
and at half-past six in the evening Porter was forced to strike his
colors.
Only seventy-five officers and men remained fit for duty; and many of
these were wounded, and some afterwards died.
In spite of the colors being down, the enemy continued his deliberate
fire, and the survivors continued to fall. Porter ordered an opposite
gun to be fired, to intimate his surrender, but the fire continued, and
several more men fell.
Porter now believed that they intended to show no quarter; and he was
upon the point of hoisting his flag again, when, about ten minutes
after the colors had been struck, the enemy ceased firing.
It is only fair to suppose that the smoke prevented them from seeing
that the flag was down.
Porter, and his officers and crew, had shown unparalleled bravery,
skill, zeal, and patriotism; and nothing but the absolute requirements
of humanity caused their surrender--to save the helpless wounded. Had
they been disposed of, there is little doubt they would have let the
Essex sink under them, and have taken the chance of gaining the shore.
The action had been fought almost entirely with the great guns;
musketry being only used during the first half hour. During most of the
time the Essex could only use her six long twelves; and it is fair to
say that every one did his whole duty. Farragut, then a mere child, was
mentioned, among others, for gallantry, but was “too young to recommend
for promotion.”
The Essex’ ship’s company were unfortunate, but not disgraced. Out
of them fifty-eight were killed, or died subsequently of wounds;
thirty-nine were severely wounded; twenty-seven were slightly wounded;
and thirty-one were missing--mostly drowned. Lieutenant Cowell, whose
leg was shattered, insisted upon waiting his turn, with the other
wounded, for amputation, and thereby lost his life.
The enemy’s loss, which was comparatively light, from the circumstances
under which the battle was fought, included the First Lieutenant of the
Phœbe, killed, and Captain Tucker, of the Cherub, severely wounded.
Both the Essex and the Phœbe were in a sinking state, and were with
difficulty kept afloat until morning, when they anchored in the port of
Valparaiso.
The Essex was afterwards repaired, and sent to England, when she was
added to the British navy. The Phœbe had eighteen shot-holes through
her, below the water line, and nothing saved both ships but the fact
that the water was very smooth.
During the action the American Consul General, Mr. Poinsett, demanded
from the Governor of Valparaiso that his batteries should protect the
Essex.
This was refused; but he was promised that, if she fought her way in
to the usual anchorage, he would send to the British Commander, and
request him to desist, but would not use force under any circumstances.
This, and other evidences of bias in favor of the British were so
strong, that Mr. Poinsett left the country, having no hope that any
claim for the restoration of the ship would be entertained.
The change of feeling in the authorities of Valparaiso, Porter
attributed to a revolution, which had lately put new people into power;
beside the fact that the South American nations always favored the
strongest force.
Soon after their capture Captain Hillyar allowed the prisoners to
proceed to the United States in the Essex Junior, which ship was
disarmed, and furnished with a passport, to prevent recapture.
Porter, in his remarks upon the battle, says that while he could never
be reconciled to Hillyar’s course in attacking the Essex in neutral
waters, he must do the English Captain the justice to say that, after
the capture he did all he could to alleviate the misery of the wounded
and prisoners. Their private property was pilfered, to be sure, but it
was against Hillyar’s positive orders. Porter also very truly remarks
that the Essex would almost certainly have escaped to sea, but for the
accident to her mast, and that it was a wonderful thing that the two
ships should not have captured or destroyed her in a much shorter time.
The English frigate Tagus arrived a few days after the battle. She,
with other English ships, had been sent to look for Porter in the China
Seas, Timor and Australia. Porter estimated the cost to the English
government of the capture of the Essex as, at least, $6,000,000.
We now pass to the singular termination of the voyage of the Essex
Junior, which ship left Valparaiso with the paroled American prisoners.
She made a remarkably good passage of 73 days, to Sandy Hook, the
prisoners hoping to be in time to be exchanged, fit out a vessel, and
intercept the prize on her passage to England. But off Sandy Hook they
fell in with the British ship Saturn, the Captain of which at first
passed them, but two hours after boarded them again, and revoked the
pass. As Captain Hillyar’s pass was thus violated, Captain Porter
revoked his parole, and declared himself the Saturn’s prisoner. The
Essex Junior was directed to remain all night under the Saturn’s guns.
The next morning the ships were some thirty miles off Long Island,
within musket-shot of each other, and in a dense fog. Porter determined
to escape. A boat was lowered and manned, and Porter entered it,
leaving with Lieutenant Downes a message for Captain Nash, of the
Saturn, to the effect that he was “satisfied that British officers were
destitute of honor, and regardless of the honor of each other. That he
was armed and intended to defend himself against boats sent out after
him.” He got nearly a gunshot off, in the fog, before it was discovered
that he had left, and when he was pursued he eluded the enemy’s boats
and landed at Babylon, Long Island. The English asserted breach of
parole in his case, but the Government took up the matter, and it was
finally satisfactorily arranged.
In connection with the homeward passage of the Essex Junior, we
must not omit to mention the sad fate of Lieutenant Stephen Decatur
McKnight, the only Lieutenant of the Essex who escaped unhurt from the
sanguinary engagement with the Phœbe and Cherub.
Lieutenant McKnight and Midshipman Lyman had remained behind, and
went to Rio Janeiro in the Phœbe, to make the affidavits necessary to
condemn the Essex as a prize. They were then allowed the option of
going to England in the Phœbe, or to be allowed to go to Europe in a
merchant vessel, and thence home, on parole. They preferred the latter,
and sailed from Rio in a Swedish brig called the Adonis. On the passage
they met, at sea, the United States ship Wasp, Captain Blakely, on a
cruise, and left the Adonis and joined the Wasp, in mid-ocean. The Wasp
was never seen again after the Adonis left her.
It may further be of interest to have Admiral Farragut’s recollections
of this battle, as well as his comments thereon, when ripe in years and
experience.
Farragut was only thirteen years old at the time of the battle; but, as
we have seen, he was commended for his coolness and conduct.
He said that, when the English ships first came in, and while the Essex
and Phœbe were close together, and the Captains talking to each other,
a young fellow stationed at a gun-deck gun of the Essex, who had just
come off from liberty, rather tipsy, fancied he saw a man on board the
Phœbe grinning at him.
“My fine fellow,” said he, “I’ll soon stop your making faces!” and was
about to fire his gun, when Lieutenant McKnight saw him, and knocked
him over. Farragut remarks that, if this gun had been fired, the battle
would then have taken place, under such circumstances that the Phœbe
would most likely have been taken.
He also mentions (which Captain Porter does not), that one night, while
the English ships were outside, the Americans manned all boats, to
board and capture them; but finding them prepared, and their men lying
at their quarters, they returned.
In his later years the gallant Admiral gave his opinion as follows:
“In the first place, I consider our original and greatest error was
in attempting to regain the original anchorage, as, being of very
fine sailing qualities, the Essex should have borne up and run before
the wind. If we had come in contact with the Phœbe, we could have
boarded her. If she avoided us--having all her masts, and ability to
manœuvre--then we could have taken her fire, and passed on, leaving
both vessels behind, until we could have replaced our topmast. By this
time they would have separated, or it would have been no chase, as the
Cherub was a dull sailer.
“Secondly. When it was apparent to everybody that we had no chance of
success, under the circumstances, the ship should have been run on
shore, throwing her broadside to the beach, to prevent raking; fought
as long as was consistent with humanity, and then set on fire. But,
having determined upon anchoring, we should have bent a spring on the
ring of the anchor, instead of upon the cable, where it was exposed,
and could be shot away as fast as it could be put on. This mode of
proceeding would have given us, in my opinion, a better opportunity
of injuring our opponents.” Farragut further says, “It has been quite
common to blame Captain Hillyar for his conduct in this affair; but
when we come to consider the characteristics of the two Commanders, we
may be inclined to judge more leniently; although Porter’s complaints
in the matter will excite no surprise. Porter was then about thirty-one
years of age, and the ‘pink of chivalry,’ and of an ardent and
impetuous temperament; while Hillyar was a cool and calculating man, of
about fifty; and he himself said, ‘had gained his reputation by several
single-ship combats; and only expected to retain it on the present
occasion by implicit obedience to his orders, viz: to capture the Essex
with the least possible risk to his vessel and crew;’ and as he had
a superior force, he had determined not to leave anything to chance,
believing any other course would call down on him the disapprobation of
his government.”
Among other reminiscences by Farragut, we find that when Lieutenant
Ingram visited the Essex, under a flag of truce, he was shown all over
her, and made a very good impression by his frank and manly bearing. He
said the happiest moment of his life would be to take her to England
should she be captured in equal combat. Porter replied that, should
such an event occur, he knew no British officer to whom he would more
readily yield the honor. Poor Ingram was killed by a splinter, and the
American officers who survived attended his funeral, in Valparaiso.
“During the action,” says Admiral Farragut, in his later years, “I was,
like ‘Paddy in the Catharpins,’ a man on occasions. I performed the
duties of Captain’s aid, quarter-gunner, powder-boy, and, in fact, did
everything that was required of me. I shall never forget the horrible
impression made upon me at the sight of the first man I had ever seen
killed. He was a boatswain’s mate, and was fearfully mutilated. It
staggered and sickened me at first, but they soon began to fall around
me so fast that it all appeared like a dream, and produced no effect
upon my nerves. I can remember well, while I was standing near the
Captain, just abaft the main-mast, a shot came through the water-ways
and glanced upward, killing four men who were standing by the side of
a gun, taking the last one in the head, and scattering his brains over
both of us. But this awful sight did not affect me half as much as
the death of the first poor fellow. I neither thought of nor noticed
anything but the working of the guns.”
During the action Midshipman Farragut was knocked down a ladder by the
body of a heavy man, who was killed. Farragut was only bruised.
The Admiral also tells an amusing story of a fight he had, on board
the English frigate, after the action, when they were taken on board,
prisoners. He saw an English midshipman who had captured a pet pig,
called Murphy, belonging to him, and he stoutly claimed it. The English
midshipman refused to surrender it, but his older messmates told
Farragut that if he licked the English midshipman he should have his
pig. A ring was formed, and, encouraged by shouts, of “Go it! my little
Yankee! if you can thrash Shorty you shall have your pig!” he went in
and licked the Englishman handsomely.
[Illustration]