The first of the great American captains to give his life to the cause
of liberty was Nicholas Biddle. And the action in which he lost it is the
finest example of daring and hardihood in the little known pages of naval
history. His part in that glorious action must ever remain unknown as to
its details since but five out of his crew remained alive to tell of it,
and we are chiefly indebted to the British accounts for the information
which has been handed down.
Nicholas Biddle began his naval career by being shipwrecked on a desert
shoal at the age of thirteen. But being rescued, with his four companions,
at the end of two months, his ardor was so little dampened that as soon
as opportunity offered he immediately went forth in search of further
adventures on the sea. A war between England and Spain being imminent,
he went to London, and succeeded in getting a midshipman’s warrant on the
ship of Captain--afterwards Admiral--Sterling.
But just before the declaration of independence of his own country,
a voyage of discovery to the North Pole was proposed by the Royal
Geographical Society, and this opportunity seemed to hold forth infinitely
more possibilities for advancement than the daily port routine of a
British frigate of war.
So, Admiral Sterling refusing Biddle’s mild request to be transferred
to one of the vessels, the young man took it upon himself to doff
his gold-laced uniform and present himself upon the “Carcase” in very
shabby sailor clothes, upon which he was forthwith entered upon her
books as a sailor before the mast. He was in glorious company, though,
for Horatio Nelson--afterwards to be the greatest admiral England has
ever known--shared his humble lot as a jacky, although his prospects in
the service were more brilliant than Biddle’s. The expedition, having
accomplished its purpose, returned to England in 1774, both young Nelson
and Biddle having been appointed coxswains for meritorious service.
When hostilities in the United States began, Biddle, of course, resigned
from the British navy and offered his services to the Continental
Congress. His first commission was the command of the “Camden,” a galley
fitted out by the State of Pennsylvania for the defence of the Delaware
River. He was then made a captain in the naval service, and took command
of the “Andrew Doria,” of fourteen guns and one hundred and thirty men.
Just before Commodore Hopkins’s fleet hoisted anchor, Biddle had an
opportunity to show his intrepidity in a very personal way. Two men who
had deserted from his vessel had been taken and were placed in prison at
Lewistown. Biddle sent an officer and a squad of men ashore to bring them
off. But the officer returned to the ship and reported that the deserters
had joined with the other prisoners, and barricaded the door, swearing
that no man alive would take them. Biddle put on his side-arms and, taking
only a young midshipman with him, went at once to the prison. The door
was tightly barred from the inside, and the prisoners, led by one of the
deserters named Green, shook their fists and pointed their weapons at him.
Some of the more venturesome of the townsfolk, who only needed a resolute
leader, now smashed down the door at the naval officer’s directions, and
Biddle, drawing both his pistols, quickly stepped within the opening.
Green stood in front of his ill-favored companions, his eye gleaming
villanously down the barrel of his flint-lock. Without moving his eye
from the man, and planting himself squarely in the doorway, Biddle said,
steadily,--
“Now, Green, if you don’t take good aim, you are a dead man!”
There was a moment’s pause, after which the pistol fell a little, and
finally, under the resolute attitude of his captain, the fellow broke
down. He was completely awed, and at Biddle’s command dropped his pistol
to the floor and allowed himself to be conducted to the ship. Their leader
cowed, the remainder of the prisoners permitted the Lewistown militia,
who had recovered from their fright, to come in and make them fast again.
This incident had its moral effect upon his men, and never again, when
they learned to know him, was Biddle troubled with disaffection among his
crew. The fury with which they went into the fights that followed showed
how much he was a man after their own hearts.
After Commodore Esek Hopkins’s unsuccessful encounter with the British
fleet, the “Andrew Doria” put to sea and cruised off the coast of
Newfoundland. Biddle captured a prize laden with arms and ammunition,
which he carried to port, where they greatly strengthened Washington’s
army, which was badly in need of supplies of all kinds. He captured a
transport and four hundred British soldiers, and made a great number of
merchant prizes. He would have taken more, but he only had five men left
aboard to take the “Doria” back to Philadelphia.
The Congress had authorized the building of several new frigates, and one
of these, the “Randolph,” of thirty-two guns, was just off the stocks.
Biddle was made commander of her, and set immediately about finishing
her and making her ready for sea. He had great difficulty in getting a
crew, as privateering, where the prizes were greater and ship actions less
frequent, proved more attractive to the adventurous spirits of the day.
Congress, however, drafted a number of men from the army, and the crew was
completed by the enlistment of volunteers from among the prisoners taken
on prizes. After many difficulties with this motley crew, Biddle at last
got to sea in February, 1777.
The men of his old crew were with him to a man, but many of the volunteers
were shoal-water sailors, and his army recruits didn’t know a sheet
from a buntline. So when he ran into a Hatteras gale a few days out, the
“Randolph” carried away her masts, and was altogether so uncomfortable a
wreck that the volunteers mutinied, and Biddle had a hard time getting
into Charleston harbor. He succeeded at last in refitting and in
instilling some of the man-of-war spirit into his crew, sailing at last
for the West Indies. Then his luck turned for the better, and he sighted
the English ship “True Briton,” twenty guns, convoying three merchantmen.
Without accident he succeeded in taking them and in bringing all four
prizes safe and sound into Charleston harbor. This was the first capture
of the navy in the South, and, as the prizes were again liberally supplied
with arms, the capture was doubly welcome. So much did Congress appreciate
this affair that they had a medal struck off in Biddle’s honor. The
British hearing of this exploit of the “Randolph,” sent a fleet south,
and succeeded in blockading her at Charleston for a time.
The State of South Carolina got ready a fleet in the hope of raising the
blockade, but before they could get to sea the Englishmen had disappeared.
In February, 1778, Biddle went out with a little fleet composed of the
“General Moultrie,” 18, the “Polly,” 16, and the “Fair American,” 14,
in search of the British squadron. But missing them, they only succeeded
in taking a few merchant vessels of the enemy. They boarded a number of
Dutch and French ships, and Biddle knew that before long they must fall
in with some of the enemy. To Captain Blake, who was dining with him, he
said, “I would not be surprised if my old ship should be out after us. As
to anything that carries her guns upon one deck, I think myself a match
for her.”
On the afternoon of the 7th of March, a sail was made out to windward,
and they sailed up to examine her. As she came down with the wind she was
made out to be square-rigged; but, bows on, she looked rather like a sloop
than a frigate. A short time later she could be made out more plainly a
man-of-war,--evidently of the enemy,--coming down speedily, and, from the
way she was sailing, able to out-foot any of the squadron. Biddle could
see that she stood well out of the water; but a small frigate might do
that. And if she was only a frigate of forty guns or under, he promised
himself a great battle that day. But if she were a ship of the line, not
only the “Randolph” but the smaller vessels were in great danger, for
nothing save a craft somewhere near her size could resist the broadsides
of the two heavy gun-tiers.
He quickly made his resolution. Signalling to the fleet of cruisers
and prizes to go about, he himself took the deck and sent the little
“Randolph” boldly down towards the stranger. On she came, bowing
majestically over the water, never making a sign until nearing gunshot
distance, when the sound of the pipes and the calls on her deck showed
that she was clearing ship for action. Biddle had been prepared for an
hour. Now, as she came a little closer to the wind, the American captain
discovered what he had suspected--two long lines of muzzles running out
of her leeward ports.
She was a line-of-battle-ship, then.
He clinched his jaws and looked over his shoulder to where the prizes were
scurrying away in the gathering darkness. They at least would be safe. But
he did not shift his course a point, sailing on until the canvas of the
great ship seemed to tower far above the little spars of his own vessel.
The men of the “Randolph” were aghast at the action of their captain. To
them an English “Sixty-Four” was the epitome of all that was powerful upon
the seas. Biddle thought so, too; but there was nothing of timidity in
his voice as he bade his gunners stand by to train upon her. He knew that
this battle would be his last, for he resolved in those few moments that
he would not give up his ship while one plank of her remained above water.
The enemy might blow him out of the water and send him to the bottom, but
before she did it he would give them such a lesson in patriotism that the
world would not easily forget it.
His men guessed something of what was in his mind, and by the time the big
ship hove close aboard they were keyed up to the fighting pitch, waiting
with the utmost impatience for the first shot to be fired. The dusk had
fallen, but the great loom of the sails of the English frigate showed
plainly as she came closer. They were scarcely a pistol-shot apart when
a figure on the Englishman mounted the hammock nettings aft, and a voice
came clearly across the water,--
“Ahoy, the frigate!”
Biddle paused a moment to gain time, and then giving a word to his
division officers, lifted his speaking-trumpet,--
“What ship is that?”
“His Britannic Majesty’s ship-of-the-line ‘Yarmouth,’ Captain Vincent.
Who are you? Answer, or I will be compelled to fire.”
Another pause as Biddle directed the American colors to be run up to the
mast, and then said,--
“This is the American Continental ship ‘Randolph,’ Captain Biddle!”
Without the pause of a second a tremendous broadside was poured into the
Englishman, and in a moment the battle was on.
Biddle had gained a slight advantage in position by waiting as he did, and
the “Randolph’s” broadsides did great execution on the crowded decks of
her adversary. But the “Yarmouth” men sprang to their guns, and in a few
moments were firing their tremendous broadside of thirty guns as fast as
they could be served and run out.
On the “Randolph” Biddle’s men were working well, but the crashing of the
shot and the flying splinters were terrific. In fifteen minutes the decks
were covered with the bodies of dead and dying men, and the surgeon and
his mate below in the cockpit, covered with blood, were laboring to help
such of those as could be aided, and the decks, in spite of the sand, were
so slippery that as the ship rolled it was difficult to stand upright upon
them. Many of the guns of one of the broadsides were disabled, and there
was not a gun that had a full crew to man it.
Biddle walked to and fro from one battery to another, lending a word here
and a hand there, acting as sponger or tackle or handspikeman, wherever
he was most needed. The men fought with the energy of despair--the despair
of the dying. If they were to die, they would die hard, and the guns were
loaded as though they would fire as many times as they could in the short
time left them. The English aimed more deliberately. But when the dreaded
broadside came, it dealt a blow that shook the smaller ship from stem to
stern.
Biddle, although badly wounded, refused to leave the deck, and, ordering a
stool to be placed where he could best direct the firing, sat calmly down,
though in great agony, and gave the orders to his officers, who repeated
them to the men.
* * * * *
It has never been discovered just what happened on the “Randolph.” In
spite of her losses, she was keeping up her fire wonderfully, when, with
scarcely a warning of any kind, she blew up.
The force of the explosion was so great that the ship split in two, and
sank immediately. The air was filled with guns, spars, and the blackened
bodies of men, many of which fell upon the deck of the “Yarmouth.” An
American ensign, neatly rolled in a ball, ready to be sent aloft on the
“Randolph” if the others had been shot away, fell on the quarter-deck of
the Englishman unsinged.
That national emblem was all, save a spar or two, that remained of the
“Randolph.” Captain Biddle and three hundred and ten of her crew of three
hundred and fifteen were blown to pieces and drowned. Four days later the
“Yarmouth,” cruising near the same place, discovered a piece of the wreck
to which five men, more dead than alive, had managed to cling.
The “Randolph” was lost, but the “Yarmouth” was so badly cut up that
she could not follow the chase, and was obliged to lay to for repairs.
What, if any, difference there might have been had the “Randolph” not
been destroyed by explosion from within it is not easy to say; but all
authorities agree that the fight, while it lasted, was one of the most
determined in history. Captain Biddle at the time of his death was but
twenty-eight years old, and the infant navy and the colonies lost one of
their most intrepid officers and gallant seamen.