MACDONOUGH’S VICTORY ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN
THOUSANDS GATHERED ON THE HILL-TOPS OVERLOOKING THE SCENE--THE
BRITISH CHOSE TO MAKE A LONG-RANGE FIGHT--INFLUENCE OF THE FIRST
BRITISH BROADSIDE ON A SPORTING ROOSTER--MACDONOUGH’S FIRST
SHOT--A REELING BLOW FROM THE ENEMY’S FLAGSHIP--FIGHTING AGAINST
TREMENDOUS ODDS--TOO HOT FOR ONE YANKEE SHIP--THE _SARATOGA’S_
GUNS DISMOUNTED--THE SWARMING BRITISH GUNBOATS--“WINDING SHIP”
WHEN DEFEAT IMPENDED--THE BRITISH FAILURE WHEN IMITATING THE
MOVEMENT--THE STUBBORN BRAVERY OF A BRITISH CAPTAIN--WHEN THE
FIRING CEASED AND THE SMOKE DRIFTED DOWN THE GALE--A MEASURE OF
THE RELATIVE EFFICIENCY OF THE TWO FORCES--TWO YANKEE SQUADRON
VICTORIES COMPARED--A STIRRING TALE OF MACDONOUGH’S YOUTH--REWARD
FOR THE VICTORS--RESULTS OF THE VICTORY.
Sunday morning, September 11, 1814, was a most beautiful day in the
most delightful season of the year in the Adirondack region. The warmth
of the sun was tempered by a northerly breeze that lifted and swayed
the forest foliage which was just beginning to show the gorgeous hues
of autumn. The water of the lake rippled and danced and sparkled. It
was a day when the people of the countryside would naturally leave
their houses, to wander over the hills, and without exception, save
the sick and their nurses, every non-combatant in all the region
overlooking Plattsburg Bay, did go out to the hill-tops on that day.
But it was not through the love of nature that they gathered this
time on the heights. For Sir George Prevost, with his veterans from
Badajos had already camped in Plattsburg village on the north shore
of the Saranac River, and the northerly breeze was sure to bring
the British squadron to Plattsburg Bay. Never in the history of the
Adirondacks--not even in the days of Algonquin and Iroquois and Tory
raids--was there a day of more intense anxiety than this beautiful
Sunday morning. For while the seamen on the ships thought most of the
honor of the gridiron flag and the glory of hauling down the red cross
of St. George, the militia, crouching behind the forts and within the
walls of the old stone mill on the bank of Saranac River, were to fight
for home and their wives and daughters. “They well knew that the men
they were to face were very brave in battle, and very cruel in victory.
They feared not for themselves; but in the hearts of the bravest and
most careless there lurked a dull terror of what that day might bring
upon those they loved.”
Out on the lake, off the point of Cumberland Head, lay a ship’s cutter,
well manned and in charge of a Yankee midshipman. As it lay with its
bow pointing into the bay and its crew resting on their oars, the eyes
of the thousands on the hill-tops turned from it to the British troops
camped on the north side of the Saranac and then back again, for the
boat was a lookout, watching for the British squadron, and it was plain
that the British troops would not move till their squadron came.
As the early morning passed and 8 o’clock drew nigh, the idle seamen
in the lookout boat suddenly bent to their oars and drove the swift
cutter, with signals fluttering in the air, into the bay. The long
roll of the drums beating to quarters on the Yankee ships followed.
The white new royals of the British frigate, with fluttering flags and
pennants above them, appeared over the lower stretches of Cumberland
Head, and then, led by the little sloop _Chubb_, followed by the brig
_Linnet_, with the huge frigate _Confiance_ third and the little sloop
_Finch_ and the flock of gun-boats last of all, the whole squadron of
the enemy rounded the point. With “rattle of block and sheet,” the
squadron came up into the wind and with flapping canvas drifted, while
Captain Downie looked the American squadron over. And then in the order
already named they filled away, with the wind coming into their sails
over the starboard (right hand) bows, and headed up toward the north
end of the American line. The wind and the space favored the British
this far, that they could choose whether they would fight at long
range or run in, yard-arm to yard-arm, where valor and muscle would
determine, and Downie, knowing the superiority of his long guns, wisely
chose to fight at long range.
As the British sails fell asleep under the influence of the breeze,
and their bows came ploughing up the bay, “Macdonough, who feared his
foes not at all, and his God a great deal, knelt for a moment, with his
officers, on the quarter-deck.” And thereafter, in perfect silence the
men of the whole American squadron stood at their posts and waited for
the coming enemy--stood in silence while the British sailors cheered
again and again in anticipation of victory.
Finally, however, when the British brig _Linnet_, that, next to the
British sloop _Chubb_, was in advance, had arrived within a mile of the
Yankee brig _Eagle_ at the north end of the Yankee line, the hot blood
of her commander could stand inaction no longer and his long eighteen
began to bark. It was a waste of effort, for his shot fell short and
the firing ceased.
A little later the British brig _Linnet_, on arriving abreast of the
Yankee _Saratoga_, opened fire with her long twelves, but all these
shots too, fell short, save one, and that one was, in a way, the
most notable shot of the whole battle, for it knocked to pieces a
chicken-coop belonging to a sailor who, being a man of sporting blood,
“had obtained, by hook or by crook,” a fighting cock of great repute
in Plattsburg. Instead of showing fear at the destruction of its coop,
this cock flew to a commanding place above the rail, and there, after
flapping its wings vigorously, it crowed loud and long in the manner
of its race; whereat the Yankee sailors all laughed and whooped and
cheered vociferously.
[Illustration: The Battle of Lake Champlain.
_From an old wood-cut._]
A moment later, and while yet the men were grinning at their bird,
Macdonough stooped over a long twenty-four on the quarter-deck of the
_Saratoga_ until he could see the bow of the coming _Confiance_ through
the sights, when he stepped back and fired the gun. And then his
men cheered again for the shot struck the _Confiance_ near the port
hawse-pipe and raked her the full length of her gun-deck, killing and
wounding several men and smashing her steering-wheel at the last.
At that the long guns of the whole American squadron began to talk. The
British sloop _Chubb_ and the British brig _Linnet_ had now arrived
near the Yankee brig _Eagle_, and the British frigate _Confiance_
was soon abreast of the American _Saratoga_. The _Chubb_ strove to
take a position for raking the Yankee _Eagle_, but the _Eagle_ was
swung to give her one broadside and that was enough. Wholly disabled,
she drifted down wind along the American line. More than half of her
crew were killed and wounded, and one shot more having been fired
into her as she approached the _Saratoga_, she hauled down her flag,
when midshipman Charles F. Pratt boarded her and took her over toward
Plattsburg, clear of the line of battle. But five of her crew were able
to stand up when she arrived.
But before this was done the British Captain Downie had brought his
flagship to anchor abreast of the Yankee flagship _Saratoga_ at a
distance of three hundred or four hundred yards. Not a shot had been
fired so far from this ship, but when she had been moored with a spring
to her cable, and her guns had been carefully aimed the sixteen long
twenty-fours, double shotted, were discharged as one. Every shot
struck the Yankee flagship, and that was the most frightful blast
received by any Yankee ship in all this war. The _Saratoga_ reeled and
shivered as the iron ploughed through her planks and timbers. More than
one hundred men were thrown to the deck by the shock, and forty of them
failed to get up, for they were killed or wounded, First Lieutenant
Peter Gamble being among the slain.
[Illustration: The Battle of Plattsburg.
_From an old wood-cut._]
This was done not far from 9 o’clock, and from that time on the
Yankee _Saratoga_ and the _Eagle_ were the targets for the British
_Confiance_ and _Linnet_ that together carried a weight of long gun
metal exactly equal to that of the whole American squadron. It was a
terribly unequal fight. There were eight long twelves and sixteen long
twenty-fours driving their solid shot into the two Yankees that could
reply with only four long twenty-fours and four long eighteens. And the
British flagship threw some red-hot shot.
Because some of the long twenty-fours on the British _Confiance_ were
after the first broadside turned toward the Yankee _Eagle_, which
already was in a fierce fight with the British _Linnet_, the _Eagle_
was obliged to cut her cable and run. Passing down wind behind the
_Saratoga_, she took a new position where her long eighteens would bear
on the British flagship, and there she opened an effective fire once
more.
But this move had left the British _Linnet_ free to devote her whole
broadside to raking the Yankee flagship, and although the _Eagle_ was
of some help the chances of victory seemed at this time very much in
favor of the British.
[Illustration: Macdonough’s Victory on Lake Champlain.
_From an engraving in the “Naval Monument.”_]
But in spite of odds, Macdonough, was fighting his ship desperately
and yet with a perfect mental grasp of the whole situation. Like Perry
on Lake Erie, he set an example to his men by working a long gun with
his own hands, and every shot he fired told with deadly effect. But as
he bent over his gun at one moment a British shot cut the spanker-boom
of the _Saratoga_ in two and one of the pieces fell on him, knocking
him senseless, so that the cry “The Commodore is killed” was passed
along the deck. This cry was not true, for Macdonough was soon on his
feet again, only to be once more knocked senseless and with a ghastly
missile. The head of a captain of a gun was shot off and hurled with
tremendous force against Macdonough’s head. But he soon recovered from
this blow also--recovered only to find that, although he had steadily
cut down the fire of the British flagship, the battle was persistently
going against him.
The raking fire of the British brig _Linnet_ was so effective that gun
after gun was knocked out of the battle on the _Saratoga_. The British
gun-boats had swarmed about the little sloop _Preble_ and driven it
away entirely. The Yankee schooner _Ticonderoga_ had, indeed, at about
the middle of the battle disabled the British sloop _Finch_, at the
tail of the British line, so that she drifted ashore on Crab Island;
but the British gun-boats, in spite of the Yankee gun-boats, were
driving with the aid of oars right under the guns of the _Ticonderoga_,
and she was compelled to give her whole attention to them and leave
the _Saratoga_ to fight it out with the British frigate and the
British brig with such aid as the _Eagle_ could render. And at the
last Macdonough found that he had not one of the guns left on the
fighting side of his ship with which to meet the enemy. Worse yet the
_Saratoga_ had been twice set on fire by the hot shot of the British
frigate, and hot shot were still coming.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN, 1814.
=American=: Eagle, Saratoga, Ticonderoga, Preble.
=English=: Chubb, Linnet, Confiance, Finch.
Gun-boats and Galleys are represented by short black marks.]
NOTES TO THE DIAGRAMS.
1. The British fleet arrived off Cumberland Head, and for a moment
hung in the wind in line, in the position shown, off the head. They
then sailed up abreast the American fleet and opened the battle,
but the sloop _Finch_ (_d_) was almost instantly driven away by the
fire of the American schooner _Ticonderoga_ (No. 3) and drifted
toward Crab Island.
2. The British sloop _Finch_ (_d_) having been wrecked, she
grounded on Crab Island. A little later the British sloop _Chubb_
(_a_), being disabled by the fire of the Yankee _Eagle_ (No. 1),
drifted down between the lines, hauled down her flag, and was
carried to the beach by an American midshipman. About the same time
the British gun-boats drove the Yankee sloop _Preble_ away, and she
sought safety at the beach.
3. This is about the position of the squadrons when the battle was
going hard against the Americans. The _Eagle_ (No. 1) had been
driven from the head of the line to a place between the _Saratoga_
(No. 2) and the _Ticonderoga_. The British brig _Linnet_ (_b_) was
raking the _Saratoga_, dismounting the _Saratoga’s_ guns, while the
gun-boats swarmed around the _Ticonderoga_ (No. 3). It was then
that Macdonough winded the ship, brought a fresh battery into play,
and won the victory.
4. The British, when trying to wind the _Confiance_ (_c_) around,
as Macdonough had done with the _Saratoga_ (No. 2), got her stern
toward the _Saratoga_, and there she hung, exposed to the raking
fire of the _Saratoga’s_ fresh battery, and flesh and blood could
not stand that. Meantime, the _Ticonderoga_ had driven away the
British gun-boats. When the flag of the _Confiance_ came down, the
_Saratoga_ was turned just enough to bring her broadside to bear on
the _Linnet_ (_b_), and then the battle ended.
The supreme moment of the battle had now come. Calling his men from
their useless guns, Macdonough ordered them to drop the anchor that
had been provided at the stern and then to clap on the spring that led
in at the forecastle. In a moment the ship, impelled by the breeze and
drawn by the spring hawser, began to swing as if on a pivot. Her stern
was soon pointed at the enemy’s frigate. A raking shot from the enemy
struck the _Saratoga’s_ bulwarks near Sailing-master Peter Blum as he
directed the winding work, and the splinters literally tore all his
clothes off of him. But he gathered up enough of the débris to wrap
around his loins and so, dressed like a Cannibal islander, he continued
his work. The British worked their guns furiously but, because of their
fury, ineffectually, and the guns of the fresh Yankee battery were soon
to come into play.
At that the British seamen on the _Confiance_ were called from their
guns and set to work on spring and cable to wind her around and bring
a fresh battery to bear also, for while she had suffered less than the
_Saratoga_ had, the _Confiance_ had lost perhaps two-thirds of her
battery by the accurate shooting of Macdonough’s long guns.
No sooner did the British try to wind their ship than the superiority
of Yankee forethought and seamanship became manifest. For while the
Yankee _Saratoga_ swung into position with scarce a break or stop, the
British _Confiance_ got so far around as to point her stern to the
Yankees, where not one of her guns could bear, and there she stuck.
Wriggle and twist, haul and curse, as they might (and did) the end was
at hand, with triumph for the gridiron flag.
With a verve that made the side tackles rattle, the Yankees brought
their fresh guns to bear on the unprotected stern of the British
frigate, and thereafter their shot ripped up her deck from stern to
anchor bits. They filled the air with splinters. They splashed the guns
and beams with blood. They drove the men from the guns and left her a
wreck.
Their commander, Captain Downie, was long since dead, killed by a gun
that was knocked over by a Yankee shot to fall on him. Lieutenant
John Robertson, who succeeded, was both brave and capable, but no one
could stand up in such a fight, and two hours after firing her first
broadside the British frigate struck her flag to the Yankee corvette.
And then the Yankees once more hauled in on their hawser until their
guns would bear on the irritating British brig _Linnet_ that had been
bravely battering away at them. The _Linnet_ was commanded by Captain
Pring, of the Royal Navy, and he was spurred on by the fact that he
had been beaten at the mouth of Otter Creek and had been reprimanded
by Sir George Prevost. The odds were now as much against him as they
had previously been against the Yankee _Saratoga_, but he held on
bravely, hoping that relief would come from the gun-boats, while he
sent a lieutenant in a boat over to the British flagship to learn the
real condition of affairs. The lieutenant brought back the news that
not only was the British frigate out of it, and her captain dead, but
the _Finch_ as well as the _Chubb_ had surrendered, and the British
gun-boats had been driven off when they swarmed at the _Ticonderoga_.
And then Captain Pring turned to look at his own vessel only to find
that her masts were shot to pieces, her rigging gone, her sides full of
shot holes and the water in her hold above the berth deck and rapidly
rising. He had fought his ship to the last gasp. He had earned the
right to haul down his flag with never a tinge of shame. Two hours and
fifteen minutes after the dreadful broadside of the _Confiance_, the
last British flag afloat fluttered to the deck, and the firing died out
with two wide apart shots at the retreating gun-boats.
[Illustration: The Battle of Plattsburg.
_From an engraving of the picture by Chappel._]
For a few moments the hill-top spectators gazed in anxious silence
while the smoke of battle drifted from around the ships, revealing by
degrees the spars that were still standing. And then some patriot,
standing with straining eyes on Cumberland Head, saw that it was the
gridiron flag only that fluttered in the smoke-laden breeze, and
with a voice that swelled on the air, shouted the news of the Yankee
triumph. A hundred throats about him took up the cry. It was echoed by
a thousand voices from the hills beyond the bay, and then travelled
away across the lake to other thousands on the slopes of the Vermont
hills. The troops down in the valley of the Saranac--the Yankee
regulars under Macomb, the New York militia under Mooers and Wright
and the Green Mountain boys under Strong, took up the shout with such
savage cries as were not to be misunderstood by the enemy. They had
withstood the onslaught there and now victory was also assured them.
Sir George Prevost--the weak and worthless titled commander of the
British forces ashore--heard with “extreme mortification” the “shout of
victory from the American works.” To his mind the “farther prosecution
of the service was become impracticable;” worse yet, though his veteran
troops outnumbered the Americans, regulars and militia, by two to one,
he grew fearful of his personal safety, and when night came down, dark
and thick with an Adirondack storm, he sneaked away, glad to escape.
The pillows of the men from Badajos were wet that night with the
rainfall of a northeast gale, instead of woman’s tears.
As the last flag came down on the British fleet, Macdonough ordered
his gun-boats to pursue the British boats that, without an ensign
flying, were pulling away around Cumberland Head. “Our galleys were
about obeying with alacrity when all the vessels were reported to
me to be in a sinking state; it then became necessary to annul the
signal to the galleys and order their men to the pumps.” So a number
of British galleys escaped--all in fact, but three that were sunk; but
the American crews were engaged in the humane work of keeping the ships
afloat to save the wounded on both sides, and it did not matter.
[Illustration: Macdonough’s Victory on Lake Champlain.
_From an engraving by Tanner of the painting by Reinagle._]
When we came to count the killed and wounded we are unable to learn
the whole loss on the British side. James, for instance, assumes that
none was hurt in the British gun-boats, because none was mentioned in
Captain Pring’s report. Pring, being a prisoner, wrote his report on
the day after the battle in Plattsburg, and so could have no knowledge
of the losses on the gun-boats that escaped, and no complete list of
those in the captured ships. He says in his report that no muster
of the British crews was taken. However, the Americans “took out one
hundred and eighty dead and wounded from the _Confiance_, fifty from
the _Linnet_, and forty from the _Chubb_ and _Finch_.” This aggregates
two hundred and seventy, but does not include the dead thrown overboard
from the British ships during the action, nor does it include British
gun-boat casualties. When it is recalled that the gun-boats that
gathered around the Yankee schooner _Ticonderoga_ were driven off by
firing bags of musket-balls at them--musket-balls that simply dusted
the entire decks of every one in reach--and that these decks were
unprotected by bulwarks while each carried a crew of not less than
twenty-six (one good authority says an average of fifty each)--when all
this is considered, it is fair to add one hundred to the two hundred
and seventy killed and wounded of which we are certain. The British
unquestionably lost a third of their force afloat.
Macdonough’s list of killed and wounded probably includes only
the wounded sent to the hospital. It is as follows: _Saratoga_,
twenty-eight killed and twenty-nine wounded; _Eagle_, thirteen killed
and twenty wounded; _Ticonderoga_, six killed and six wounded;
_Preble_, two killed; _Boxer_ (gun-boat), three killed and one wounded;
_Centipede_ and _Wilmer_, one wounded on each. In all fifty-two were
killed and fifty-eight wounded. Roosevelt thinks ninety more were
slightly wounded, but if we go into the slightly wounded list, we find
that almost every man on both the flagships was thumped or scratched in
some way.
But we can determine the relative efficiency of the two crews much
more readily by an examination of the hulls of the flagships. Keeping
in mind that the two leading British ships had as great a weight of
metal in long guns as the whole Yankee squadron, gun-boats and all,
and that these two British ships were relentlessly firing at the
American flagship during almost the entire time of the battle, a
counting of the round-shot holes in the two flagships gives a measure
of British and American marksmanship, which, though less to the
credit of the Americans than in some other battles, is unmistakable.
The _Saratoga_ was struck by fifty-five round shot; the British
_Confiance_ by one hundred and five. And yet it was point-blank range,
for long guns, over water that lay dead, while the first broadside
from the _Confiance_ was accurate. When the Yankees came to examine
into this matter they learned how they had escaped. Having set their
guns at the right range for the first broadside the British did not
thereafter trouble themselves to look after the range. They loaded
and fired “with fury”--with a whoop and a huzza! But each discharge
pinched the wedge-shaped quoin a trifle from under the breech of their
guns--lowered the breech and elevated the muzzle--so that very soon
their shots were flying high over the Yankee hull. But the cooler
Yankee gunners kept the quoins in place and the range good. Worse yet,
on examining the British guns some were found with shot under the
powder instead of on top, and some with wads at the bottom of the bore
and some crammed to the muzzle--the veritable method of the tenderfoot
on a runway, but not at all what is expected of an experienced naval
tar. And yet the _Confiance_ was manned by picked seamen.
When the fight was over Macdonough wrote the following letter to
Secretary of the Navy William Jones:
“The Almighty has been pleased to grant us a signal victory on Lake
Champlain, in the capture of one frigate, one brig, and two sloops of
war of the enemy.”
This letter and his prayer on the quarter-deck have been often used in
religious discourses--and very properly so. But for the sake of the
honor of the flag, and with no desire whatever to lessen the reader’s
reverence for sacred matters, one who has lived with sailors in both
ends of the ship is impelled to declare that, for the purpose of
rousing seamen to do their best when going into battle, one rooster in
the rigging is worth a dozen prayers on the quarter-deck.
Because the Battle of Lake Champlain and that on Lake Erie were the
only squadron battles of this war, it is worth while comparing the
disposition of the forces made by the two youthful commanders who won.
Both Perry and Macdonough were very young for such responsible posts
as they held--Perry was twenty-seven, and Macdonough was twenty-eight.
Neither had ever had an independent command in battle before being
called on to handle a squadron against an experienced enemy.
On Lake Erie Perry had the moral advantage, such as it was, of making
the attack; he had also the physical advantage of a somewhat superior
force. But these advantages were more than neutralized by the advantage
which the enemy held in being able to concentrate his force to receive
the attack and by the very light wind, which was still further deadened
by the concussion of great guns after firing began. The lack of wind
kept a great part of Perry’s fleet so far in the rear that the flagship
near the head of the line had to stand the brunt of the battle--the
concentrated fire of about all of the enemy’s squadron. Perry was
also handicapped by the unexplained failure of Elliott to close in
on the enemy. Commander Ward, in his “Naval Tactics,” written for the
instruction of naval cadets, speaks of Perry’s oblique attack as “that
which gallantry counselled rather than the more circuitous, perhaps
more prudent, course” which would have taken Perry’s ship abreast of
the British before running within gunshot. But when through gallantry
he had lost his ship, practically, “and a less determined officer might
have despaired of the day,” he “quit his own disabled ship for another”
and “with consummate judgment and celerity, reformed the van of his
squadron, composed of the heaviest ships, and not only retrieved his
loss, but in a few minutes secured victory.” “This combination was most
masterly,” says Ward, referring to what may be called Perry’s renewed
attack. It was his gallantry combined with his splendid judgment and
celerity of action that gave Perry enduring fame. The Battle of Lake
Erie appealed to the sentiment as well as to the cold judgment of
Perry’s countrymen, whether afloat or ashore, and now that more than
eighty years have passed, his handling of the squadron, taking the
battle as a whole, meets as hearty approval from naval officers as it
did in the fall of 1813.
Quite different were the conditions, under which Macdonough had to
fight. The force of the enemy was superior, and he rightly chose
to receive rather than make the attack. As Barclay, the British
commander on Lake Erie, concentrated his power as much as possible,
so did Macdonough when awaiting the enemy. His choice of positions in
Plattsburg Bay far outweighed the moral advantage which the British
had in making an attack. And the rare judgment which Macdonough showed
in preparing for the emergencies of battle far outweighed in the end
the superior force--the very greatly superior force which the British
possessed in the concentration of their long guns on a frigate and a
brig.
Like Perry, Macdonough fought his own ship, giving no attention during
a long period to the others of his squadron, after the battle began;
with his own hands he worked a gun, and with perfect skill. His ship,
like Perry’s, received the concentrated fire of the enemy and bore
the greatest part of the loss. The winding of his ship at the supreme
moment of the battle was a move like, in a way, that of Perry in going
to the _Niagara_, and it was a move that, like Perry’s, won the day
that had there-to-fore been disastrous to the Yankee fleet.
In short with a tremendous responsibility thrust suddenly upon them,
these two young men did so well, each in his own circumstances, that
their actions have ever since been held up for the admiration as well
as instruction of the officers that have come after them.
The Battles of Lake Erie and Champlain were fought when the nation’s
navy was young and ambitious, but let not even the most optimistic
patriot abate one jot of his confidence in the men who now stand
erect and uncover their heads whenever they see the old flag hoisted
to the peak. For in every class that graduates at Annapolis there
are Macdonoughs and Perrys and Hulls and Bainbridges and Porters and
Nicholas Biddles and John Paul Joneses.
One history of the War of 1812 says that Macdonough hoisted, just as
the British squadron appeared, a signal reading, “Impressed seamen
call on every man to do his duty.” Whether this was done or not,
the adventure of Macdonough in protecting an American seaman from
impressment at Gibraltar, in 1806, must be told to show still further
the character of the man.
Macdonough was first lieutenant (though but twenty years old) of the
Yankee brig _Siren_. One day while the _Siren’s_ captain was on shore,
a Yankee merchantman came into the port and anchored near the _Siren_.
Scarcely was her anchor down when a boat put off from a British
frigate near by, went directly to the Yankee merchantman, and in a
few minutes pulled away again, having one more man in it than when
it left the frigate. Macdonough noted this fact, and sent Lieutenant
Page to the merchantman to see what had happened. Page returned with
the information that the British had impressed one of the crew of the
Yankee merchantman.
On hearing that Macdonough instantly ordered the _Siren’s_ gig away,
manned with armed men, and getting into it himself, he pulled after the
frigate’s boat, overtook it right alongside the frigate, and although
the frigate’s boat had eight oars to Macdonough’s four, he took out of
it by force the impressed seaman and carried him to the _Siren_.
A little later the captain of the frigate came on board the _Siren_ in
a great rage. He had plainly tried to impress the Yankee, not because
one man would be of any consequence as an addition to his crew, but to
show his contempt for the little Yankee war-ship, and to be baulked
so was a terrible affront. He wanted to know how Macdonough “dared to
take a man from one of His Majesty’s boats.” Macdonough, in no way
flustrated, invited the captain into the _Siren’s_ cabin: The Captain
refused to go and “with abundance of threats” repeated his question. He
was determined, he said, that he would haul his frigate alongside the
_Siren_ and take the man by force. To this Macdonough replied:
“I suppose your ship can sink the _Siren_, but as long as she can swim
I shall keep the man.”
“You are a very young man and a very indiscreet young man,” said the
bully. “Suppose I had been in the boat--what would you have done?”
“I would have taken the man or lost my life,” replied Macdonough.
“What, sir! Would you attempt to stop me if I were now to try to
impress men from that brig?” thundered the captain.
“I would,” replied the calm Macdonough, “and to convince yourself that
I would, you have only to make the attempt.”
At that the British captain got into his boat, rowed away to his
frigate and then turned and rowed toward the Yankee merchantman.
Macdonough at once called away his boat with an armed crew, and rowed
out to protect the brig, whereat the bold Englishman rowed around the
merchantman without boarding her, and with his rudder tucked well under
his stern, so to speak, put back to his frigate.
[Illustration: Medal Awarded to Thomas Macdonough after His Victory on
Lake Champlain.]
The victory on Lake Champlain stirred the American people so that
bonfires and illuminations were seen everywhere. An undue share of
praise was awarded to the land forces; it was because there was a fight
on land at the time of the battle afloat that the people as a whole
failed to sing the praises of Macdonough as loudly as they had sung
those of Perry. It is the work of the historian to show that Champlain
was entirely a naval victory. But Macdonough did not lack appreciation.
The Legislature of New York, understanding very well that it was the
wooden wall afloat that prevented the desecration of the homes of
northern New York, gave him 2,000 acres of land, while that of Vermont,
actuated by the same feelings, bought a farm on Cumberland Head (two
hundred acres) overlooking the scene of his victory, and gave it to
him. The Congress voted thanks to all the force; gave gold medals to
Macdonough, to Robert Henley, commanding the _Eagle_, and to Stephen
Cassin, commanding the _Ticonderoga_, with silver medals to all other
commissioned officers. The nearest male relatives of Lieutenant Peter
Gamble and of Lieutenant John Stansbury each received a silver medal.
The captured vessels were purchased by the Government for a round sum,
which was distributed as prize-money, while the petty officers and
seamen got three months’ extra pay. Macdonough was promoted to the rank
of post-captain.
[Illustration: Stephen Cassin’s Medal.]
It is a curious fact that the captured British ships were ballasted
with cannon and shot instead of the broken rock commonly used in those
days. They were confident of victory, and these supplies were for use
in the conquest of northern New York and Vermont. And when Prevost fled
he left immense quantities of military stores behind him.
The result of the battle was very mortifying to the enemy, and Sir
George Prevost is said to have died of the chagrin. And in the
discussions over a proposed treaty of peace, then in progress, the
influence of this American victory was most important. The American
commissioners had demanded that territorial limits remain as before
the war. The British Government was clutching at the northeast corner
of Maine when, to quote Schouler, the news of the British disaster at
Plattsburg “made it doubtful whether the rule of _uti possidetis_ might
prove a positive disadvantage to England.” And that is to say that in
an exchange of conquered territories the Americans might gain more than
they would lose. The Duke of Wellington wrote to Lord Castlereagh that
“you have gained nothing yet in the American war which gives you the
right to demand on principle a territorial concession.” So Castlereagh,
with evident chagrin, yielded the point to the American commissioners.
The victory of Macdonough served materially to bring the war to a close.
The most popular song in the United States during the winter of 1814–15
was the following:
SIEGE OF PLATTSBURG.
Backside of Albany, ’tan Lake Champlain:
One little pond, half full a water--
Plattsburg dare too, close upon de main--
Town small--he grow bigger do, hereafter.
On Lake Champlain,
Unkle Sam set he boat;
And Massa Macdonough he sail ’em--
While Gen’ral M’Comb,
Make Plattsburg he home,
Wid he army, whose courage nebber fail ’em.
Eleventh day of September
In eighteen hundred and fourteen,
Gubbenner Probose, and he British soldier,
Come to Plattsburg, a tea-party courtin’.
An’ he boat come too,
Arter Unkle Sam boat--
Massa Donough do, look sharp out he winder,
Den Gin’ral M’Comb,
Ah! he always home!
Catch fire too, jiss like tinder!
Bow! wow! wow! den de cannon ’gin t’ roar;
In Plattsburg, an’ all ’bout dat quarter--
Gubbenner Probose try he hand ’pun de shore.
While he boat take he luck ’pun de water,
But Massa Macdonough
Kick he boat in de head!
Break he heart, broke he shin, ’tove he calf in--
An’ Gin’ral M’Comb,
Start ole Probose home!
Taught me soul den, I must die a laffin.
Probose scart so, he left all behind--
Powder, ball, cannon, tea-pot an’ kettle--
Some say, he cotch a cold, perish in he mind,
’Bloig’d eat so much raw and cold vittle.
Unkle Sam berry sorry
To be sure for he pain--
Wish he nuss heself up, well an’ hearty--
For Gen’ral M’Comb
An’ Massa Donough home
When he notion for a nudder tea-party.