When Captain David Porter in the “Essex” failed to meet Captain Bainbridge
in the “Constitution” off the Brazilian coast, and learned that the latter
had captured the “Java” and returned to the United States, he was free to
make his own plans and choose his own cruising-ground.
He captured an English vessel or so, but his ambition was to make a voyage
which would result in the capture of as many vessels as could be manned
from the “Essex.” He thought the matter over at length and then formulated
a plan which few other men would have thought of. No large war-vessel of
the American government had been in the South Pacific for some years, and
now the English whalers and merchantmen pursued their trade unmolested,
save by a few privateers which sailed haphazard in the waters along the
coast. David Porter decided to round the Horn, thus cutting himself off
from his nearest base of supplies, and live the best way he might off
vessels captured from the enemy.
He knew that he could not hope for a hospitable reception at any port
he visited, but if he could keep his magazine and store-rooms supplied,
determined to capture or destroy every vessel flying the British flag in
those waters.
He started on his long voyage at the end of January, 1813, during the
Southern summer season, when the gales and hurricanes in that region are
at their fiercest. He had not been at sea very long before the scurvy
broke out on the ship, and it was only by the most rigorous discipline
and cleanliness that the disease was kept under control. By the middle
of February the “Essex” reached the Cape, and, the weather having been
moderately free from squalls, they were congratulating themselves on
avoiding the usual dangers of those waters when a storm came up which in
a short time began to blow with hurricane force. Gale succeeded gale,
followed by intervals of calm, but nothing terrifying occurred until
towards the end of February, when a storm which exceeded all the others
in its fierceness began to blow. They were near a barren country, and,
even should they reach land, there was no possible chance of escaping
the slow torture of death from hunger and thirst. Great gray waves,
measuring hundreds of feet from crest to crest, swept them resistlessly
on towards the menacing shore, which could be seen dimly through the
driving spray frowning to leeward. Many of the waves broke clear over the
little frigate, knocking in her ports, opening her timbers, battering her
boats to pieces as they swung on the davits, and loosening her bowsprit
and other spars so that they threatened at each movement to go by the
board. The crew, weakened and disheartened by disease and the excess of
labor, lost heart and considered the “Essex” a doomed ship. David Glascoe
Farragut, then a midshipman aboard of her, afterwards wrote that never
before had he seen good seamen so paralyzed by fear at the mere terrors
of the sea. On the third day an enormous wave struck her fairly on the
weather-bow and broadside, and she went over on her beam ends, burying
her lee-bulwark in the foam. It looked for a moment as if she would
never right herself. The ports on the gun-deck were all stove in and she
seemed to be filling with water. The head-rails were swept away, and one
of the cutters was lifted bodily from the davits and smashed against the
wheel. The fellows there stood bravely at their posts, though thoroughly
terrified at the position of the ship. The water poured down below, and
the men on the gun-deck thought she was already plunging to the bottom.
The grizzly boatswain, crazy with fear, cried out in his terror,--
“The ship’s broadside is stove in! We are sinking!”
That was the greatest of their dangers, though, and better days were in
store for them. Early in March the “Essex” succeeded in reaching Mocha
Island, and the men, starved on half and quarter rations, were sent ashore
to hunt wild hogs and horses. These were shot in numbers and salted down
for food. The crew soon regained their health and spirits, and Porter
sailed away for Valparaiso, putting in there to refit his damaged rigging
and spars.
And now began a cruise which is numbered among the most successful
in the country’s history. Porter had been at sea but a few days when
he overhauled a Peruvian privateer, the “Nereyda.” To his surprise,
twenty-four American sailors were found prisoners aboard of her. When
asked to explain, the Peruvian captain replied that as his country was
an ally of Great Britain, and that as war was soon to be declared between
Spain and America, he thought he would anticipate matters and be sure of
his prizes. Porter, in forcible English, explained the Peruvian’s mistake,
and, to make the matter more clear, threw all his guns and ammunition
overboard, so that he might repent of his folly in a more diplomatic
condition.
The Peruvian captain begrudgingly gave Porter a list of all the English
vessels in those waters. The first one captured was the whaler “Barclay.”
On the 29th of April the “Essex” took the “Montezuma,” with a cargo
of fourteen hundred barrels of whale-oil. Later in the same day the
“Georgiana” and the “Policy” were overhauled. These prizes, with their
cargoes, in England were worth half a million dollars; but, better than
money, they were plentifully supplied with ropes, spars, cordage, stores,
and ammunition, of which Porter still stood badly in need.
Finding that the “Georgiana” was a fast sailer and pierced for eighteen
guns, Porter decided to make use of her as a cruiser, and, fitting her
up, placed Lieutenant Downes in command of her, with forty men for a
crew. Then the “Essex” took the “Atlantic” and the “Greenwich.” With this
very respectable squadron Porter sailed for the mainland, Lieutenant
Downes in the “Georgiana” meanwhile capturing without great difficulty
the “Catharine” and the “Rose.” A third vessel, the “Hector,” fought
viciously, but was eventually secured after a stiff little battle.
Young Farragut had been made the prize-master of the “Barclay.” He was
only twelve years old, but Captain Porter, who was very fond of him,
was confident of his ability to bring the ship into port. The English
captain had been persuaded to act as navigator; but once out of sight of
the squadron he refused to sail for Valparaiso. He afterwards said it was
merely to frighten the boy. But the boy did not frighten at all. Instead
he called one of his best seamen to him and ordered sail made. Then he
told the captain that if he did not go below and stay there he would have
him thrown overboard. The Englishman retreated below precipitately, and
Farragut brought the ship safely in, a first proof of the courage and
skill he was to show in after-life. Few boys of twelve would have done it
even in those days when midshipmen soon became men regardless of age.
The “Atlantic,” being reckoned the fastest vessel of her kind afloat
in those waters, was now given to Downes, who had been promoted to
master-commandant, and renamed the “Essex Junior.” She was given twenty
guns and sixty men, and soon proved her worth. All of this time Porter had
been self-supporting. Neither he nor his squadron had cost his government
a penny in money, and the prizes he captured, including the “Charlton,”
“Seringapatam,” “New Zealand,” and “Sir Andrew Hammond,” could not be
reckoned much short of a million and a half of dollars, a tremendous sum
in those days, when the pay of a captain of a naval vessel was only twelve
hundred dollars,--less than the pay of a boatswain to-day.
But Porter grew tired of his easy victories over merchantmen and
privateers. He had succeeded in frightening the ships of the British
entirely from the ocean. His one ship, a small frigate, had complete
control in the South Pacific, and the Admiralty wondered at the skill
and ingenuity of a man who could manage his fleets so adroitly. They
determined to capture him; and two smart ships, the “Phœbe” and the
“Cherub,” were sent out for this purpose. Porter heard of their coming,
and was willing enough to meet them if it were possible. He went to
Nukahiva, in the Marquesas Islands, to put the “Essex” in thorough repair
and give his men a rest. He remained there two months, sailing near the
end of the year 1813 for Valparaiso, with the hope of their meeting the
English cruisers.
The “Essex” had been there but a month when the “Essex Junior,” which
was cruising in the offing in anticipation of the arrival of the British
ships, signalled, “Two enemy’s ships in sight.” Half the crew of the
“Essex” were ashore enjoying sailor-men’s liberty. Even if they all got
aboard, it was fair to assume that they would be in no condition to fight
should the Englishmen choose to violate the neutrality of the port by
firing on them. Porter immediately fired a gun and hoisted the recall
signal for all boats and men to return. The English captain, Hillyar, ran
the “Phœbe” on the wind straight for the “Essex,” the “Cherub” following
closely. But when they reached the anchorage, the “Essex” was ready for
action and the crew were at their stations. The “Phœbe” went around under
the quarter of the “Essex,” luffing up scarcely fifteen feet away. It
was an exciting moment. Hillyar could see the men at their guns, and his
ardor was perceptibly diminished. Had he given the order to fire then,
he would have been raked fore and aft, and the tale of this last fight of
the “Essex” might have had a different ending.
As it was, he jumped upon the nettings, and said, with distinguished
politeness,--
“Captain Hillyar’s compliments to Captain Porter, and hopes he is well.”
Porter _was_ well, but he was in no humor to bandy compliments.
“Very well, I thank you,” he replied; “but I hope you will not come too
near, for fear some accident might take place which would be disagreeable
to you.” And at a wave of his hand the kedge-anchors and grappling-irons
were swung up to the yard-arms, ready to be dropped on the decks of
the enemy. The men swarmed along the nettings, ready to jump aboard the
Englishman as soon as she was close enough.
But Hillyar, not liking the looks of things, changed his tone
considerably. He backed his yards hurriedly, and said in an excited
manner,--
“I had no intention of getting aboard of you. I assure you that if I fall
aboard it will be entirely accidental.”
“Well,” said Porter, “you have no business where you are. If you touch a
rope-yarn of this ship I shall board instantly.”
Porter then hailed Downes on the “Essex Junior” and told him to be
prepared to repel the enemy. The vessels were in a position to be almost
at the mercy of the Americans. When the “Phœbe” ranged alongside, the
crews could see each other through the ports, and laughed and made
grimaces at one another. One young fellow in the “Essex,” who had come
aboard drunk, stood at one of the guns, match in hand. He saw one of the
English jackies grinning at him. He was primed for a fight, and yelled
across,--
“I’ll stop your making faces, my fine fellow.” He leaned forward to
apply the match to the vent, and was only saved from firing it in time by
Lieutenant McKnight of the gun-division, who knocked him sprawling. Had
that gun been fired, the “Phœbe” would have been taken.
There seems no doubt of Captain Hillyar’s previous intention to try to
take the “Essex” as she lay, regardless of the neutrality. Captain Porter
would have been justified if he had fired at that time.
But the Englishmen were willing to bide their time. Two more British ships
were expected, and they felt sure of their prey.
A strange state of affairs now ensued. The officers meeting on shore
exchanged the proper courtesies, and strict orders were issued to the
men, who for a wonder were restrained from fighting. Porter flew from
his foremast a great white burgee, bearing the legend, “Free Trade and
Sailors’ Rights.” Captain Hillyar soon hoisted one in reply, “God and
Country: British Sailors’ Best Rights. Traitors Offend Both.” Porter then
had another painted, and sent it to the mizzen, which read, “God, Our
Country, and Liberty. Tyrants Offend Them.”
These amenities had the effect of making the crew eager for a speedy
settlement of the question. Once Captain Hillyar fired a gun in challenge;
but upon Porter’s accepting it, the Englishman sailed down to his consort
the “Cherub,” and Porter returned. The Englishman, in spite of his
challenge, was not willing to fight a single battle.
Finally, Captain Porter, learning of the expected early arrival of the
“Tagus,” 38, the “Raccoon,” and two other ships, determined to put to sea
and there fight it out with the two frigates as best he might. The next
day, the 28th of March, 1814, a squall came up, and the “Essex” lost one
of her anchors and dragged the other out to sea. Not a moment was to be
lost in getting sail on the ship, for he saw a chance to sail between the
southwest point of the harbor and the enemy. Under close-reefed topsails
Porter made a course which seemed likely to carry him just where he wanted
to go, when a heavy squall struck the ship, carrying away the maintop-mast
and throwing the men who were aloft on the top-gallant-yard into the sea.
This great misfortune at a time when there was at least a fighting chance
of getting away put a different aspect upon the chances of the “Essex.”
Both English vessels immediately gave chase, and Porter, failing to make
his anchorage, ran for shore, to anchor there and fight it out to the last
drop of blood. The “Phœbe” and the “Cherub,” bedecked with flags, came
booming down to where Porter awaited them, flying flags from the stumps of
his maintop-mast and at almost every point where he could run a halyard.
At about four o’clock the “Phœbe” selected a position under the stern
of the “Essex,” and opened fire at long range. The “Cherub” stood off
her bow. The fire of the “Phœbe” was terribly destructive, and few guns
from the “Essex” could be brought to bear upon her. The “Cherub” fared
differently; and, finding her position too hot, sailed around and took up
a position by her consort, where a tremendous fire was poured in. Captain
Porter, with great difficulty, had three of his long 12-pounders hauled
into his after-cabin, and at last succeeded in opening such a fierce
and well-aimed fire that the enemy wore about and increased the distance
between them. The “Phœbe” had three holes in her water-line, had lost the
use of her mainsail and jib, and had her fore-main- and mizzen-stays shot
away. Her bowsprit was badly wounded, and she had other injuries below.
But the “Essex” was fighting against terrible odds. The springs on her
cables were again and again shot away and the crew were being killed
and wounded in great numbers. When the ships of the enemy returned and
opened a galling fire from such a position that it could not be returned
by the “Essex,” Porter determined to assume the aggressive. But when he
attempted to make sail on his ship, he found that most of the running-gear
had been cut away, only his flying-jib could be spread to the winds. But,
nothing daunted, he cut his cable, and, spreading his tattered canvases
the best way he could, made down for the “Cherub” until within range
of the cannonades, where he gave the Englishman such a drubbing that he
took to his heels and got out of range altogether. The “Phœbe” managed to
keep her distance, and with her long guns kept sending in broadside after
broadside, which swept the decks of the doomed “Essex” and mowed her men
down like chaff. Captain Hillyar was taking no chances.
The slaughter on the “Essex” was horrible. One gun was manned by three
crews, fifteen men being killed at it. Men were dying like sheep; but
those who remained at the guns, and even the wounded, had no thought of
surrender. A sailor named Bissley, a young Scotchman by birth, lost his
leg. He lifted himself, and said to some of his shipmates,--
“I hope I have proved myself worthy of the country of my adoption. I am
no longer of any use to you or her; so good-by.” And before he could
be restrained he pushed himself through the port into the sea and was
drowned.
Midshipman Farragut acted as captain’s aid, quarter-gunner, powder-boy,
and anything that was required of him. He went below for some primers,
when the captain of a gun was struck full in the face by a sixteen-pound
shot, falling back upon the midshipman, spattering him with blood
and tumbling them both down the hatch together. The blow stunned the
midshipman for a moment; but when he recovered, he rushed again on deck.
Captain Porter, seeing him covered with blood, asked him if he were
wounded.
“I believe not, sir.”
“Then, where are the primers?”
This first brought him completely to his senses. He rushed below again and
brought the primers up. Captain Porter fell, stunned by the windage of a
shot, but got to his feet unaided.
Though most other men would have surrendered the ship, Porter made up his
mind to run her towards the shore and beach her broadside on, fight until
the last and then blow her to pieces. An explosion occurred below and
a fire broke out in two places. The decks were so covered with dead and
dying that the men who remained upright could scarcely move among them.
The cockpit would hold not another wounded man, and the shots which came
in killed men who were under the surgeon’s knife. Out of the two hundred
and fifty-five souls who began the fight only seventy-five, including
officers and boys, remained on the ship fit for duty. Many of the men,
thinking the ship was about to blow up, had jumped overboard and had
drowned or were struggling in the water in the attempt to swim to land.
The long-range shots of the enemy were striking her at every fire. The
Englishmen had the distance accurately and were battering her to pieces
as though at target-practice.
Captain Porter, at last seeing that resistance was only a waste of life,
called his officers into consultation. But one, Lieutenant McKnight, could
respond, and at 6.20 P.M. the order was given to haul down the flag.
When the British boarding-officer came over the side, the sight of the
carnage was so shocking that he had to lean against a gun for support. The
force of the “Essex” was forty-six guns and two hundred and fifty-five
men. That of the English, in conservative estimates, was seventy-three
guns and four hundred and twenty-one men. The English lost five killed
and ten wounded. The “Essex” fifty-eight killed, sixty-six wounded, and
thirty-one missing.
Thus died the “Essex” in one of the bloodiest and most obstinate combats
on record.