James Jarvis was one of the “young gentlemen” on the “Constellation”
during the war with France. “Young gentlemen” was what the midshipmen
were called in the old naval service, and Jarvis was the youngest of them
all, being just thirteen at the time of the action with the “Vengeance.”
He was the smallest officer aboard, and his most important duties were
those of passing the word from the quarter-deck forward, and taking his
station aloft in the maintop, where he was learning the mysteries of the
maze of gear which went through the lubber’s-hole or belayed in the top.
He also stood at quarters with his diminutive sword drawn,--a smaller
edition of the lieutenants, who were allowed to wear one epaulette and
who could make a louder noise through the speaking-trumpet than Jarvis
could hope to for years. Down in the midshipmen’s mess, by virtue of his
diminutive stature and tender years, he was not much interfered with by
Wederstrandt, Henry, Vandyke, and the bigger men. But he fought one or two
of the young gentlemen nearer his age, and, though frequently defeated,
stood up as strongly as possible for what he deemed his rights. He was
a manly little reefer, and up in the maintop, where he was stationed in
time of action, the men swore by him. He was sensible enough not to give
any orders without the professional opinion of one of the old jackies,
who always ventured it with a touch of the cap, a respectful “Sir,” and
perhaps a half-concealed smile, which was more of interest than amusement.
Thirteen was rather a tender age at which to command men of fifty, but
the midshipmen of those days were not ordinary boys. They went out from
their comfortable homes aboard ships where men were even rougher and less
well-disciplined than they are to-day, and they had either to sink or
swim. It was Spartan treatment; but a year of it made men and sailors of
them or else sent them posting home to their mothers and sisters.
Jarvis loved it, and did his duty like a man. He knew the lead of all
the gear on his mast, and kept his few pieces of brass-work aloft shining
like new. He kept the rigging in his top, even when there was no occasion
for it, coiled down as though for inspection, although nobody but the
topmen and yardmen ever had occasion to examine it. He was as active as a
monkey, and, scorning the “lubber’s-hole,” went over the futtock-shrouds
as smartly as any of the light-yardmen.
The greatest and probably the only regret of midshipman Jarvis’s short
life was that he had not joined the great frigate before she met and
defeated the “Insurgente” the year before. He wanted to be in a great
action. Nothing seemed to make him feel more of a man than when the long
18-pounders were fired in broadside at target-practice. If he had been
but a boy, instead of an officer with a gold-laced cap and a dirk and all
the dignities pertaining to those habiliments, he would have clapped his
hands and shouted for sheer joy. But the eyes of his men were upon him,
and so he stood watching the flight of the shots, and biting hard on his
lips he kept his composure.
Captain Truxton, ever mindful of his midshipmen, had disposed them in
different parts of the ship with regard to their size and usefulness.
The older ones had been given gun-divisions, while the youngsters were
placed on the fo’c’s’le or in the tops, where they might be of assistance,
but would more certainly be out of harm’s way. Such a thought was not
suggested on the “Constellation.” If it had been, little Jarvis would
probably have resigned immediately, or at the very least have burst into
unmanly tears. As it was, he felt that his post aloft was as important
as any on the ship, and he promised himself that if another Frenchman was
sighted he would stay there whether the mast were up or down.
So, on the 1st of February, 1800, just about a year after the capture of
the “Insurgente,” while they were bowling along under easy sail, about
fifteen miles off Basse Terre, a large sail, which appeared to be a French
frigate, was sighted to the southward. Jarvis went aloft two ratlines at
a time, his heart bounding with joy at the prospect of the chance of a
fight.
On assuring himself that she was a large ship, Captain Truxton immediately
set all sail and took a course which soon brought her hull above the
horizon and showed the Americans beyond a doubt that she was a ship-of-war
of heavier metal than the “Constellation.” Nothing daunted, Truxton bore
on his course until the gun-streaks of the other vessel could be plainly
seen. Instead of showing the same desire to speak, the stranger held on,
pointing a little off his course, as though anxious to avoid an encounter.
But the breeze, which had been light, now died away altogether, and the
sea became calm. There the two great vessels drifted in sight of each
other all night and part of the following day, awaiting the wind which
would enable them to close. Jarvis was in a fever of impatience. A half
a dozen times he got permission from the officer of the deck, and with
a telescope almost as long as himself, clambered up to the main-royal
to report. There was but one opinion among the midshipmen who went
aloft,--she was a Frenchman. She _could not_ be anything else.
About two o’clock in the afternoon of the next day, up to the northward
they saw the ripple on the water of the wind they had been waiting for.
The sail-loosers flew aloft, and every sail was spread to catch it. Soon
the “Constellation” was pushing her way through the water, and the foam
was even flying from the wave-tops here and there. The chase had caught
the breeze at about the same time, and the Americans could see by the
line of white under her bow that she was beginning to leg it at a handsome
rate. But the “Constellation” was in excellent condition for a race, and
by degrees drew up on the other ship, which as they reached her was seen
to lie very low in the water, as though deep-laden. They were sure to
discover who she was before nightfall, so Truxton cleared his ship for
action. Jarvis went aloft to his top and saw the backstays lashed and the
preventer-braces securely hooked and rove. Extra muskets were carried up
into his top for the use of the jackies and marines when they should come
into close quarters, for then the fire of sharpshooters would be almost
as valuable as the shots of the great guns.
Their work had been over an hour and the sun had set in a clear sky before
the “Constellation” drew up to gunshot distance. It was moonlight before
she came within effective range. The battle-lanterns were lit, and the
long row of lights on the Frenchman showed that he, too, was prepared
for fight. The sky was clear, and the moon, which was nearly at the full,
made the outlines of the vessels perfectly visible to the men at the guns.
Jarvis, from his post aloft, could plainly see the lines of heads along
the poop, and fancied that he could make out a midshipman almost as young
as he, who was clambering about the maintop of the other vessel. He heard
the beating of a drum and the sound of cheers as the Frenchmen moved to
their quarters.
On the decks below there was not a sound. Truxton had given his men
their orders. There was to be no cheering until there was something to
cheer for. They were to await the order to fire until the enemy was close
aboard, and then, and not until then, was the broadside to be delivered.
The division-officers had gone about quietly repeating these commands
to the gun-captains, and there was nothing further to say. Only to wait
until the battle began. Jarvis repeated to his topmen, word for word, the
instructions he had received, that in their aim particular attention was
to be paid to the officers of the enemy.
Soon a gun from the after-battery of the Frenchman was fired. This was
followed shortly by all the guns that would bear. Some of the shots
crashed into the hull of the “Constellation,” and one of them killed
several men. The division-officers glanced appealingly to Truxton, in
the hope of the order to fire; but he merely held up his hand. Again the
broadside came, and men seemed to be falling everywhere. The strain below
and aloft was terrific. But the officers stood steadily, with a word of
encouragement here and there, and the men did not flinch.
[Illustration: THE “CONSTELLATION” AND THE “VENGEANCE”]
At last the “Constellation” came abreast the after-ports of the Frenchman,
and Truxton, throwing her off a little, so that all his broadside would
bear in a diagonal direction, loudly shouted the order to fire.
The telling broadside was delivered, and the battle was on in earnest.
To those aloft the crash of the long eighteens into the hull of the
enemy at every other downward roll of the “Constellation” showed how
well the American gunners had learned to shoot, while the short bark of
the cannonades and the shrieks in the brief pauses from the decks of the
Frenchman told of the terrible effects of the fire among the enemy. The
guns of the Frenchman were well served and rapidly fired, but they were
aiming on the upward roll of the sea, and their shots went high. Several
balls from the smaller pieces had lodged in the foremast and mainmast,
and one had struck just below the futtock-band of the maintop, where
Jarvis was, and sent the splinters flying up and all about him. Yard-arm
to yard-arm they sailed for three long, bloody hours, until the firing
of the Frenchman gradually slackened and then stopped almost altogether.
The Americans had suffered less on the decks than aloft, and Jarvis’s
topmen were employed most of the time in splicing and re-reeving gear.
The discharge of the “Constellation’s” broadside-guns did not diminish
for a moment, and so fast was the firing that many of the guns became
overheated, and the men had to crawl out of the exposed ports to draw up
buckets of water to cool them.
At about midnight Truxton managed to draw ahead of his adversary in the
smoke, and, taking a raking position, sent in such a broadside that the
Frenchman was silenced completely.
Jarvis and the men in the maintop had little time to use their muskets.
Several long shots had struck the mast, and almost every shroud and
backstay had been carried away. As the “Constellation” bore down upon her
adversary to deal her the death-blow, the mast began swaying frightfully.
There was a cry from the men at Jarvis’s side, and the marines and topmen
began dropping through the lubber’s-hole, swinging themselves down the
sides of the swaying mast by whatever gear they could lay their hands to.
Jarvis did not move. One of the older seamen took him by the shoulder and
urged him to go below. The mast was going, he said, and it meant certain
death to stay aloft.
Little Jarvis smiled at him. “This is my post of duty,” he replied, “and
I am going to stay here until ordered below.”
At this moment a terrific crackling was heard, and the old man-o’-warsman
went over the edge of the top. All the strain was on one or two of the
shrouds, and, just as he reached the deck, with a tremendous crash the
great mast went over the side.
Jarvis had kept his promise to stay by his mast whether it was up or down.
The Frenchman, not so badly injured aloft, took advantage of the condition
of the “Constellation,” and, slowly making sail before the wreck was
cleared away, faded into the night. It was afterwards discovered that she
was the “Vengeance,” of fifty-two guns. She succeeded in reaching Curaçoa
in a sinking condition.
When the news of the fight reached home, Congress gave Truxton a medal
and a sword, and prize money to the officers and crew.
For little Jarvis, the midshipman, who preferred to die at his post,
Congress passed a special resolution, which read:
“_Resolved_, That the conduct of James Jarvis, a midshipman in said
frigate, who gloriously preferred certain death to an abandonment of
his post, is deserving of the highest praise, and that the loss of so
promising an officer is a subject of national regret.”
History does not show an instance of nobler self-sacrifice, and no such
honor as this special act of Congress was received by a boy before or
since.