PORTER’S GALLANT ACTION AT VALPARAISO
A GENEROUS RECEPTION FOR A PREDATORY BRITISH FRIGATE--HILLYAR’S
LUCKY ESCAPE--HILLYAR’S EXPLICIT ORDERS--WHEN THE _ESSEX_ HAD LOST
HER TOP-MAST THE _PHŒBE_ AND THE _CHERUB_ ATTACKED THE YANKEE IN
NEUTRAL WATER--IT WAS A TWO-TO-ONE FIGHT AND THE ENEMY HAD LONG
GUNS TO OUR SHORT--THE BRITISH HAD TO GET BEYOND THE RANGE OF THE
_ESSEX_--MAGNIFICENT BRAVERY OF THE YANKEE CREW WHEN UNDER THE FIRE
OF THE LONG RANGE BRITISH GUNS--THE _ESSEX_ ON FIRE--FOUGHT TO THE
LAST GASP--PORTER’S INTERRUPTED VOYAGE HOME--THE MEN WHO WERE LEFT
AT NUKAHIVA IN SORRY STRAITS AT LAST.
The _Essex_, with her consort, the _Essex Junior_, got up anchor at
Nukahiva on December 12, 1813. For two days they were in the offing and
then they sailed for the coast of South America. They sighted the Andes
early in January, and after getting water at San Maria and calling at
Concepcion, went to Valparaiso, where they arrived on February 3, 1814.
There Porter learned that the British frigate _Phœbe_, Captain James
Hillyar, had been on the coast some time looking for the _Essex_. So
Porter determined to await her at Valparaiso.
To make the time pass pleasantly a grand reception was given to the
officials of the city and their friends on the night of the 7th, the
_Essex Junior_, meantime, having been stationed outside to watch for
the enemy. As it happened the enemy was seen next morning while yet the
men of the _Essex_ were taking down the bunting with which the ship had
been decorated. But when Captain Porter came to read the signals on the
guard-ship he found that two ships were in sight instead of the one
looked for. After a time the two appeared and displayed British colors,
and the _Essex Junior_ was obliged to come into the port. And what made
matters still more uncomfortable was the fact that half of the crew of
the _Essex_ were on shore enjoying life sailor fashion.
This last fact had not escaped the eye of the patriotic mate of an
English merchantman lying in the harbor, and jumping into a small boat
he rowed outside to tell his countrymen about the crew of the _Essex_.
As it appeared very soon after this, the two British ships outside were
the _Phœbe_ already mentioned and the eighteen-gun war-ship _Cherub_,
Captain Tucker.
Captain Hillyar, of the _Phœbe_, very naturally assumed that the Yankee
sailors on shore were already so full of the excellent native wine of
the country that even if got on board they would not be able to make a
fight. The wind was in just the right direction to enable him to take
his two ships into port and handle them there with certainty. It was
true that Valparaiso was a neutral port, but that fact was considered
unimportant. Captain Hillyar had been sent there expressly to capture
the _Essex_, and the opportunity to do it comfortably seemed to have
been made as if to order. So he cleared his ship for action, and,
leaving the _Cherub_ outside, steered boldly for the _Essex_.
But when the _Phœbe_ swept up beside the Yankee ship Captain Hillyar
experienced a very great revulsion of feeling. He had approached the
_Essex_ under the quarter, where not one of her guns could bear on him,
and then slightly shifting his helm he ranged up alongside and within
fifteen feet of her. And then to his utter discomfiture he found the
Yankee guns fully manned, and every man save one was fit and eager for
fight.
The warlike ardor of the Englishman instantly evaporated, and he
remembered that he had met Captain Porter some years before on the
Mediterranean station, and that they had exchanged friendly visits.
Instead of ordering his men to fire he jumped on a gun, where he could
get a better view of the deck of the _Essex_, and said, with marked
politeness:
“Captain Hillyar’s compliments to Captain Porter, and hopes he is
well.”
And Captain Porter, who had never felt better in his life than at that
moment, replied:
“Very well, I thank you; but I hope you will not come too near for fear
some accident might take place which would be disagreeable to you.”
And with that he waved his trumpet toward some of the crew forward
who, with ropes in hand, were awaiting the signal, and they instantly
triced a couple of kedge anchors out to the weather yard-arms ready for
dropping on the enemy to grapple him fast in reach of the well-trained
Yankee boarders, armed with sharpened cutlasses and dirks made from old
files.
Indeed the Yankee forecastlemen were so eager that they swarmed to
the rail as the anchors rose to the yard-arms, while one of them, a
quarter-gunner named Adam Roach, with his sleeves rolled up and cutlass
in hand, climbed out on the cathead and stood there, in plain view of
the British marines, awaiting the moment when the ships should come
together.
But they did not come together, yard-arm to yard-arm, either then
or afterward. Captain Hillyar hastily braced his yards aback and
“exclaimed with great agitation:”
“I had no intention of getting on board of you--I had no intention of
coming so near you; I am sorry I came so near you.”
“Well,” said Porter, “you have no business where you are. _If you
touch a rope yarn of this ship, I shall board instantly._” Then he
hailed the _Essex Junior_, that was lying handy by, and ordered
Lieutenant Downes to prepare to repel the enemy.
The _Phœbe_ fell off with her jib-boom over the American deck, her bows
exposed to the broadside of the American guns, and her stern exposed to
the broadside of the _Essex Junior_.
At that moment the one member of the crew who had come on board the
_Essex_ drunk, narrowly escaped precipitating the battle. He was a big
boy and served as powder-monkey. While standing beside his gun with a
slow-burning match in hand waiting for orders, “he saw, through the
port, someone on the _Phœbe_ grinning at him.” He was deeply offended
at once.
“My fine fellow, I’ll stop your making faces,” he said, and leaned over
to put his match to the gun’s priming. The lieutenant in charge saw the
move and knocked the youth to the deck. Had he fired the gun a fight
would have followed and the _Phœbe_ would have been taken. As it was
she passed free, although some of her yards overlapped those of the
_Essex_, and a little later she came to anchor half a mile away.
“We thus lost an opportunity of taking her, though we had observed the
strict neutrality of the port under very aggravating circumstances.”
So wrote Farragut, but no American at this day regrets the action
of Captain Porter. It was, indeed, “over-forbearance, under great
provocation,” but it showed the high sense of honor of a typical
American officer, and every American reads the story of the _Essex_
with unalloyed pleasure. Such exhibitions as this of the American
spirit have done more than cannon-shot to promote and to preserve
peace between the nations. Captain Hillyar was so much impressed by
it that he promised Porter that he, too, would respect the neutrality
of the port, and he would have done so, very likely, only that he was
handicapped by his orders from the Admiralty, which compelled him to
“capture the _Essex_ with the least possible risk to his vessel and
crew.” Hillyar was a cool and calculating man of fifty years. As he
said to his first lieutenant, Mr. William Ingram, he had gained his
reputation in single-ship encounters and he only expected to “retain it
by an explicit obedience to orders.”
That he was going to take “the least possible risk” appeared a few days
later when Porter asked him to send the _Cherub_ to the lee side of the
harbor and meet the _Essex_ with the _Phœbe_ alone. The _Phœbe_ and the
_Cherub_ had by that time replenished their stores and taken a station
outside. Hillyar at first agreed to do so, and made preparations for
the fight. Among other things he had a huge flag painted with a motto
in answer to Porter’s burgee containing “Free Trade and Sailor’s
Rights.” The British motto read: “God and Country; British Sailors’
Best Rights; Traitors Offend Both.” It was a day when such displays
were fashionable among sailors, and Porter at once painted another
which he hoisted to the mizzen, where it read: “God, our Country and
Liberty; Tyrants Offend them.”
Such things seem rather silly now, but they were inspiring to Jack in
those days. With his banners flaunting before the Yankee eyes Captain
Hillyar hove his main-yard aback off the weather-side of the harbor,
having previously sent the _Cherub_ a fair distance to leeward. Then
he fired a gun to invite the _Essex_ out. Captain Porter accepted the
invitation and stood out of the harbor. He found he could outsail the
_Phœbe_, and he got near enough to fire several shots from his long
twelves that almost reached her, but she squared away for the _Cherub_,
and Porter had to let her go.
Meantime Porter “had received certain information” that the frigate
_Tagus_ and two others were coming after him, while the sloop-of-war
_Raccoon_, that had gone to the northwest coast of North America to
destroy the fur-gathering establishment of John Jacob Astor, was to be
expected at Valparaiso at any time. So Porter determined to sail out
of the harbor, trusting to the speed of the _Essex_ to carry him clear
of the superior force. Should he succeed in drawing the enemy clear of
the harbor the _Essex Junior_ was at once to make sail also.
But the day after arriving at this determination a heavy squall came
on from the south, the port cable of the _Essex_ broke, and she began
dragging the starboard one right out to sea. Without delay Porter
made sail, setting his top-gallant sails over reefed top-sails, and
stood out of the harbor. As he opened up the sea he saw that he had
a chance for sailing between the southwest point of the harbor and
the enemy--passing to windward of them, in fact, and so getting clear
without trouble. The top-gallant sails were at once clewed up and the
yards braced to sail close hauled. The _Essex_ was making a course that
was just what Porter wanted, and he was just clearing the point when
a sudden squall from around the corner of the land struck the ship,
knocking the maintopmast over the lee rail into the sea, and the men
who were still aloft furling the top-gallant sail were lost.
At once both of the enemy’s ships gave chase, and Porter, after
clearing the wreckage, turned to beat back to his old anchorage.
But because he was crippled, and because of a sudden shift of wind,
he could not make it, and so he “ran close into a small bay about
three-quarters of a mile to leeward of the battery on the east side of
the harbor,” and there let go his anchor “within pistol-shot of the
shore.”
Here he was as much in neutral waters as he would have been at the
usual anchorage, but the enemy, with mottoes and banners in abundance
flying, came down to attack the cripple. The _Cherub_ came cautiously
to the wind off the bow of the _Essex_, the _Phœbe_, with equal
caution, off her stern, and at 3.54 P.M., on March 28, 1814, in the
presence of the whole population of Valparaiso, who thronged to the
bluffs, the battle, that was to end the career of the _Essex_ as an
American frigate, began. To fully appreciate the fight that followed,
the reader should recall the fact that in spite of the protests of
Captain Porter the _Essex_ had been compelled to sail with a battery of
forty short thirty-twos in place of the long twelves that he wanted. In
addition to these she carried six long twelves, three of which, when
this fight began, were arranged to fight at the bow and three at the
stern. Her crew numbered two hundred and fifty-five when she dragged
her anchor, but of these at least four were lost from the top-gallant
yard. The exact number is not given.
On the other hand the _Phœbe_, under the circumstances, was alone
in weight of metal superior to the _Essex_. On her main deck were
thirty long eighteens, to which were added sixteen short thirty-twos,
one howitzer, and in the tops six three-pounders. In all she carried
fifty-three guns. She carried more guns than ships of her class usually
did, because she had been fitted out especially to catch the _Essex_
with as little risk as possible. Her crew numbered three hundred and
twenty, the usual number having been added to, when she was taking in
supplies, by gathering sailors from the British ships in port. The
_Cherub_ mounted eighteen short thirty-twos, eight short twenty-fours,
and two long nines. Her crew, with the additions received in port,
numbered one hundred and eighty men.
But this was a battle fought at long range. Captain Hillyar obeyed
his instructions to take as little risk as possible, and he held his
ships beyond the range of Porter’s short thirty-twos. It was therefore
a fight in which five hundred men were pitted against two hundred
and fifty-one, and the fifteen long guns in the broadside of the
_Phœbe_ and both of the long guns of the _Cherub_--in short, seventeen
long guns, throwing two hundred and eighty-eight pounds of metal,
were pitted against six long guns, throwing by actual weight only
sixty-six pounds of metal. That was the actual preponderance when the
battle began, but even that did not satisfy the ideas of the British
captains in their desire to obey their orders to take as little risk
as possible, for the _Cherub_, finding her position off the bow of the
_Essex_ too hot, wore around and took a station near the _Phœbe_, where
Porter could bring only three guns, throwing together but thirty-three
pounds of metal, to bear on the two of them with their seventeen long
guns throwing two hundred and eighty-eight pounds of metal. Rarely in
the history of the world has a fight been maintained against such odds
as these. The Englishmen did, indeed, draw in closer at one time of the
battle, but it was for only a brief time. The short guns of the _Essex_
soon made them withdraw to a safer distance.
When the first gun was fired at 3.54 P.M., Porter had not yet been
able to get a spring on his cable and could not bring a gun to bear
on either ship. For five minutes the _Essex_ lay as an idle target.
But as the spring was made fast and the cable veered, the long twelves
began to bark and it was then that the _Cherub_ made haste to get clear
of the fire from forward, and take a place near the _Phœbe_. They
both delivered a raking fire which “continued about ten minutes, but
produced no visible effect,” to quote Hillyar’s report to Commodore
Brown of the Jamaica station. But if the British fire produced no
“visible effect,” the fire of the guns of the _Essex_ was so well
directed that Hillyar “increased our distance by wearing,” and he
confesses that “appearances were a little inauspicious.” In fact, at
the end of half an hour both the British ships sailed out of range to
repair damages alow and aloft. The _Phœbe_ alone had seven holes at the
water-line to plug and she had lost the use of her mainsail and jib,
her fore, main, and mizzen stays were shot away, and her jib-boom was
badly wounded. This much the British admit.
But it had been a losing fight on the _Essex_, nevertheless. The
springs on the cable were shot away three times and could be renewed
only after delays that prevented working the guns under full speed,
and the heavy shot of the enemy’s long guns had been cutting down
the crew. And then the enemy returned once more to the fight. Brave
Lieutenant William Ingram, of the _Phœbe_, wanted to close in and carry
the _Essex_ by boarding. The two British ships had at this time more
than two men to the one of the _Essex_, but Hillyar refused, quoting
the orders he had received from his superiors as a reason, and saying
he had “determined not to leave anything to chance.” He would not face
Yankee cutlasses wielded in defence of the _Essex_. So the safest
possible positions were chosen, and fire was again opened at 5.35 P.M.
It was “a most galling fire, which we were powerless to return.” Even
the _Essex’s_ “stern guns could not be brought to bear.”
At this juncture, the wind having shifted, Captain Porter ordered his
crew to slip the cable and make sail; and it was then found that the
running gear had been so badly cut that only the flying jib could be
spread.
Did the courage and hope of the brave American falter at this? Not at
all. Spreading that one little triangle of canvas by halyard and sheet
to the wind, he loosed the square sails, and with their unrestrained
and ragged breadths flapping from the yards, the _Essex_ wore around,
and while the shot of the enemy filled the air above her deck with
splinters, she bore down upon them until her short guns began to reach
them, and the _Cherub_ was driven out of range altogether, while
Hillyar made haste to obey his orders about taking as little risk as
possible--made haste to spread his canvas and sail away to a point
where he would be clear of the deadly aim of the Yankee gunners. The
_Phœbe_ “was enabled by the better condition of her sails to choose
her own distance, suitable for her long guns, and kept up a most
destructive fire on our helpless ship.” So says Farragut.
[Illustration: Fight of the _Essex_ with the _Phœbe_ and _Cherub_.
_From an engraving by Strickland of a drawing by Captain Porter._]
But fearful as was the scene on the doomed _Essex_, the story of the
deeds of her heroic crew stir the blood as few other stories of
battle can do. “Dying men who had hardly ever attracted notice among
the ship’s company, uttered sentiments worthy of a Washington. You
might have heard in all directions: ‘Don’t give her up, Logan’--a
sobriquet for Porter--‘Hurrah for Liberty!’ and similar expressions.”
A man named Bissley, a young Scotchman by birth, on losing a leg,
said: “I hope I have this day proved myself worthy of the country of
my adoption. I am no longer of any use to you or to her, so good-by!”
And with that he plunged through a port. And John Ripley, who had
suffered in like fashion, also went overboard deliberately. John
Alvinson, having been struck by an eighteen-pound shot, cried: “Never
mind, shipmates; I die in defence of free trade and sailors’ ri----”
and so his spirit fled while the last word quivered on his lips.
William Call lost his leg and was carried down to the berth-deck.
As he lay there weltering in his blood awaiting his turn with the
doctor, he saw Quarter-Gunner Roach--he who had so bravely headed the
boarders--skulking, and “dragged his shattered stump all around the
bag-house, pistol in hand, trying to get a shot at him.”
And there was Lieutenant J. G. Cowell. He had his leg shot off just
above the knee and was carried below. The surgeon on seeing him at
once left a common sailor to attend to him, but Cowell said:
“No, doctor, none of that; fair play is a jewel. One man’s life is as
dear as another’s; I would not cheat any poor fellow out of his turn.”
And so he bled to death before his turn came.
In the record kept by young Farragut we have a wonderful story of a
battle as seen by a lad of twelve. “I performed the duties of captain’s
aid, quarter-gunner, powder-boy, and in fact did everything that was
required of me,” he wrote.
“I shall never forget the horrid 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 on my nerves. I can remember well, while
I was standing near the captain, just abaft the mainmast, a shot came
through the waterways and glanced upwards, killing four men who were
standing by the side of the 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.
“On one occasion Midshipman Isaacs came up to the captain and reported
that a quarter-gunner named Roach had deserted his post. The only reply
of the captain, addressed to me, was, ‘Do your duty, sir.’ I seized a
pistol and went in pursuit of the fellow, but did not find him.
“Soon after this, some gun-primers were wanted, and I was sent after
them. In going below, while I was on the ward-room ladder, the captain
of the gun directly opposite the hatchway was struck full in the
face by an eighteen-pound shot, and fell back on me. We tumbled down
the hatch together. I struck on my head, and, fortunately, he fell
on my hips. I say fortunately, for, as he was a man of at least two
hundred pounds’ weight, I would have been crushed to death if he had
fallen directly across my body. I lay for some moments stunned by the
blow, but soon recovered consciousness enough to rush up on deck. The
captain, seeing me covered with blood, asked if I was wounded, to
which I replied, ‘I believe not, sir.’ ‘Then,’ said he, ‘where are the
primers?’ This first brought me completely to my senses, and I ran
below again and carried the primers on deck. When I came up the second
time I saw the captain fall, and in my turn ran up and asked if he was
wounded. He answered me almost in the same words, ‘I believe not,
my son; but I felt a blow on the top of my head.’ He must have been
knocked down by the windage of a passing shot, as his hat was somewhat
damaged.”
With such scenes as these on deck Porter strove to overtake the enemy.
The picture of that American ship, with her unsheeted sails flapping
in the wind as she struggled to get within range, is among the most
heroic known to history. It was a vain struggle. The wind veered once
more. The shot from the long guns of the enemy were ripping her hull to
pieces, and, in the language of the British first lieutenant, murdering
her crew. The brave American commander was baffled but was not yet
conquered. Putting up his helm he turned once more toward the shore,
determined to beach the ship, broadside on, fight to the last gasp, and
then blow her to pieces.
Firing from his stern guns as he ran, he reached out for the sands
until they were but half a mile away, and then once more the
treacherous wind shifted, and catching the sails aback, wrapped their
torn folds as a shroud about the masts. A hawser was bent to the
sheet-anchor, which was then let go. That brought her head around where
the long guns would bear, but the hawser broke a minute later, and once
more the _Essex_ drifted offshore a helpless target.
And then came an explosion below. The ship was on fire, and the men
came rushing up on deck, “many with their clothes burning.” The men
on deck hastened to rip the burning garments from their shipmates,
but some whose clothes were flaming were ordered to “jump overboard
and quench the flames.” Smoke was rolling up the hatches, and “many
of the crew, and even some of the officers, hearing the order to jump
overboard, took it for granted that the fire had reached the magazine,
and that the ship was about to blow up; so they leaped into the water,
and attempted to reach the shore.”
Hope had at last fled from the doomed ship. The decks were strewn with
the dead and wounded. There were twenty-one bodies in one pile on the
main deck. The long-range shot of the enemy were sinking her. The hold
was in flames. The captain called for his lieutenants to ask their
opinion of the condition of affairs, and found but one, Lieutenant
McKnight, to answer the call. Of the two hundred and fifty-one men
who began the fight only seventy-five, including officers and boys,
remained on the ship in condition fit for duty. Further effort was
useless, “and at 6.20 P.M. the painful order was given to haul down the
colors.”
At that, Benjamin Hazen, a Groton seaman (who, though painfully
wounded, had remained at his post, and at the last had joined in the
request to haul down the flag to save the wounded), bade adieu in
hearty fashion to those around him, said he had determined never to
survive the surrender of the _Essex_, and jumped overboard. He was
drowned.
In what has been said regarding the handling of the _Phœbe_ there
was no desire to cast a slur upon the personal character of Captain
Hillyar. He had proved his bravery in previous contests. The point
to be made clear is that his superiors had so far learned to respect
Yankee prowess that he was under definite order to take no unnecessary
risks. He conducted the fight in the only way that insured certain
victory. Every fair-minded American will grant what Sir Howard Douglas,
in his text-book on gunnery (page 108), claims--that “this action
displayed all that can reflect honor on the science and admirable
conduct of Captain Hillyar and his crew,” save only so far as he broke
his word of honor pledged to Captain Porter. And that is to say that it
is admitted that a sneer at the “respectful distance the _Phœbe_ kept”
is “a fair acknowledgment of the ability with which Captain Hillyar
availed himself of the superiority of his arms.”
The losses of the _Essex_ were fifty-eight killed and mortally wounded,
thirty-nine severely wounded, twenty-seven slightly wounded, and
thirty-one missing, the most of whom, if not all, were drowned in
trying to swim ashore when the _Essex_ was on fire. These numbers were
given by the American officers. Hillyar reported that the _Essex_
lost one hundred and eleven in killed or wounded. The difference in
these official reports is unquestionably due to the fact that Hillyar,
naturally enough, did not count as wounded those of his prisoners who
had received minor scratches and contusions, even though these wounds
had temporarily disabled the men during the battle. Nevertheless,
the favorite British historian James, although he had read Hillyar’s
letter, wrote:
“The _Essex_, as far as is borne out by proof (the only safe way where
an American is concerned), had twenty-four men killed and forty-five
wounded. But Captain Porter, thinking by exaggerating his loss to
prop up his fame, talks of fifty-eight killed and mortally wounded,
thirty-nine severely, twenty-seven slightly.”
And Allen, whose latest edition appeared in 1890, follows the false
statement of James.
The British loss was, of course, trifling. They had five killed and ten
wounded. But it is not unconsoling to reflect that the _Phœbe_ received
in all eight shot at and under the water-line, and that she and the
_Cherub_ were not a little cut up aloft--in short the damage inflicted
by the _Essex_ was greater than the British _Java_, _Macedonian_,
and _Guerrière_ all together inflicted on the American ships in their
battles. Captain Hillyar had good reason for writing to his superior
that “the defence of the _Essex_, taking into consideration our
superiority of force and the very discouraging circumstance of her
having lost her maintopmast and being twice on fire, did honor to her
brave defenders.”
As Roosevelt says, “Porter certainly did everything a man can do to
contend successfully with the overwhelming force opposed to him. As an
exhibition of dogged courage it has never been surpassed since the time
when the Dutch Captain Kaesoon, after fighting two long days, blew up
his disabled ship, devoting himself and all his crew to death, rather
than surrender to the hereditary foes of his race.”
While no one can justly criticise Captain Hillyar for his handling of
his ship during the battle, there is something to be said about his
having made an attack on the American ship under the circumstances.
And this cannot be better said than in the words of Roosevelt, whose
fairness has been acknowledged by the English in the most emphatic
manner. He says:
“When Porter decided to anchor near shore, in neutral water, he
could not anticipate Hillyar’s deliberate and treacherous breach of
faith. I do not allude to the mere disregard of neutrality. Whatever
international moralists may say, such disregard is a mere question of
expediency. If the benefits to be gained by attacking a hostile ship
in neutral waters are such as to counterbalance the risk of incurring
the enmity of the neutral power, why then the attack ought to be
made. Had Hillyar, when he first made his appearance off Valparaiso,
sailed in with his two ships, the men at quarters and guns out, and
at once attacked Porter, considering the destruction of the _Essex_
as outweighing the insult to Chili, why his behavior would have been
perfectly justifiable. In fact, this is unquestionably what he intended
to do; but he suddenly found himself in such a position that, in
the event of hostilities, _his_ ship would be the captured one, and
he owed his escape purely to Porter’s over-forbearance, under great
provocation. Then he gave his word to Porter that he would not infringe
on the neutrality; and he never dared to break it, until he saw Porter
was disabled and almost helpless! This may seem strong language to
use about a British officer, but it is justly strong. Exactly as
any outsider must consider Warrington’s attack on the British brig
_Nautilus_ in 1815 as a piece of needless cruelty, so any outsider
must consider Hillyar as having most treacherously broken faith with
Porter.”
Fair as this statement must seem to candid minds, there is yet a word
to be said for Captain Hillyar. A fair interpretation of his orders
demanded that he break his faith and attack the ship, and as an
officer accustomed to obey all orders from his superiors, he believed
his obligation to the Admiralty and his country was greater than
his obligation to keep his word. Captain Hillyar believed that his
country demanded that he break faith with Porter, and the proof that
the British nation has ever since approved of his treachery toward an
American is found in the fact that “the naval medal is granted for the
capture” of the _Essex_ (see Allen); that the officer who sailed her
to England was at once promoted, and that every British writer who
has referred to the action has praised Captain Hillyar in the highest
terms, and refers to Captain Porter as James did when he said: “Few,
even in his own country, will venture to speak well of Captain David
Porter.”
After the battle the _Essex_ was repaired and sent to England, where
she was added to the British Navy. It is worth noting that she
was built in 1779 by the people of Salem, Massachusetts, and the
surrounding country, who were enthusiastic in their desire to revenge
the injuries done by French cruisers to American commerce. She was the
product of the Federalist party ardor, and Rear-Admiral George Preble
says, “the Federalists considered it a patriotic duty to cut down the
finest sticks of their wood lots to help build the ‘noble structure’
that was to chastise French insolence and piracy.” They gave her as a
present to the nation, and as armed at that time she was probably the
most efficient ship of her size afloat.
The _Essex Junior_ was disarmed and the American prisoners were put
into her, and she was sent as a cartel to New York. Off the east coast
of Long Island, on July 5, 1814, she was detained by British cruisers
so long that the Americans were lawfully released from their parole,
when Porter and a boat’s crew escaped ashore aided by a fog, and that
was the only occasion during that cruise of this Yankee captain, that
weather did aid him. He landed in Long Island, where he had to show
his commission before the people would believe his story. He was then
carried to New York by enthusiastic admirers, and was there received
with every mark of honor. Meantime, the _Essex Junior_ was allowed to
come in also.
A few words will tell the fate of Lieutenant Gamble and the men left
at Nukahiva with the captured whalers _Seringapatam_, _Greenwich_,
and _Sir Andrew Hammond_. Immediately after Porter sailed away the
natives began to rob the Americans of everything they could carry away,
and Gamble had “to land and overpower them.” On February 28, 1814,
one man was drowned accidentally. A week later four men deserted in
a whale-boat to join their native sweethearts. On April 12th Gamble
rigged the _Seringapatam_ and the _Hammond_ for sea, intending to burn
the _Greenwich_, but the men became mutinous. So Gamble removed all
the arms, as he supposed, to the _Greenwich_; but when he boarded the
_Seringapatam_ on May 7th, the men there attacked him, shot him in the
foot with a pistol, set him adrift in a native canoe, and then sailed
away with the _Seringapatam_, leaving Gamble with but eight men.
Two days later the natives came off to assault the ship. They were
repulsed, but Midshipman William W. Feltus was killed, and three men
wounded. The fight occurred on the _Hammond_. The following night the
survivors went to sea. They eventually reached the Sandwich Islands,
where they were captured by the _Cherub_, and were detained on her
seven months. They finally reached New York in August, 1815.
[Illustration: A Marquesan “Chief Warrior.”
_From an engraving by Strickland of a drawing by Captain Porter._]
The voyage of the _Essex_ ended in disasters all around, due solely
to the misfortune of losing a top-mast in a squall off the Point of
Angels at Valparaiso. But she had captured twelve British ships,
aggregating 3,369 tons, armed with one hundred and seven guns and
carrying three hundred and two men. She had maintained herself for more
than a year entirely from supplies captured from the enemy--she did
not cost the national treasury a cent after her first outfit. A great
fleet of British ships were sent at large expense to search for her.
On the whole her cruise damaged the enemy millions of dollars--Porter
estimated the damage at $6,000,000--and her crew, from master to boy,
had “afforded an example of courage in adversity that it would be
difficult to match elsewhere.”
Porter was, indeed, defeated, but the victory of the enemy was like
those obtained at Bunker Hill and on Lake Champlain during the war of
the Revolution. It was a British victory but it strengthened the power
of the young republic, and gave renown to the defeated leaders.
When Grecian bands lent Persia’s legions aid,
On Asia’s shores their banners wide displayed,
Though heaven denied success--their leader’s name
Has still ranked foremost in the rolls of fame;
Hence the RETREAT, the theme of every tongue,
Through every age and clime incessant rung;
With Zenophon the bard adorned his lays,
And gave the mighty chief immortal praise.
With him the historian grac’d his proudest page,
And bade his _glories_ live through every age:
Thus _thine_, O PORTER, shall, in lays sublime
Of future poets, live through endless time;
Thy noble daring, though with adverse fate,
The rich historic page shall long relate,
And the glad voice of freemen’s loud acclaim
Teach lisping infancy thy honored name.
Captain Porter aided in the defence of Baltimore after his return home.
After the war he served as a commissioner on naval affairs, and in 1826
resigned his commission. He was afterward American Minister to Turkey,
and died at Constantinople in 1843. His body was brought to America and
was eventually buried in Woodlawn Cemetery, Philadelphia.