Macomb at Plattsburg -- American and English fleets on Lake
Champlain -- Advance of Prevost -- Indifference of Governor
Chittenden -- Rev. Mr. Wooster -- Macdonough -- The two
battles -- Funeral of the officers -- British invasion of
Maine -- McArthur's expedition.
The gallant defence of Baltimore was still the theme of every tongue,
when tidings from our northern borders swelled the enthusiasm to the
highest pitch, and extinguished for a moment the remembrance of the
barbarities committed at Washington.
The day before the British landed at North Point and received their
first shock in the death of General Ross, the double battle of
Plattsburg was fought.
Izard, when he started on his tortoise-like march, to the relief of
Brown, left Colonel Macomb in command of three thousand men, not more
than half of whom were fit for service. Their defeat he considered
certain, and the result would have justified his prognostications,
had Macomb, like him, sat down to brood over his troubles and gaze
only on the difficulties that beset the army, till his confidence was
gone and his energies paralyzed. But he was made of sterner
stuff--difficulties only roused and developed him. Were the well men
under his command few? then his defences must be the stronger, and the
labor of those able to work, the more constant and exhausting.
Calling on New York and Vermont for militia, he toiled night and day
at the works, and soon found himself strongly intrenched.
In the mean time, Prevost, at the head of a disciplined army of twelve
thousand men, began to advance on Plattsburg. The ulterior design of
this invasion of the States has never been disclosed. It is hardly
possible that the British General meditated a movement similar to
Burgoyne's, hoping to reach Albany. The object may have been to get
entire command of Lake Champlain; and, pushing his land forces as far
as Ticonderoga, there wait the development of events on the sea-coast,
or by conquests along the northern boundary, create a claim to the
lakes, to be enforced in the negotiations for peace.
Prevost marched slowly, cumbering the road with his heavy baggage and
artillery trains as he advanced, and did not arrive at Plattsburg
till the 7th of September.
This town is situated on the Saranac River, a deep and rapid stream,
crossed at the time by several bridges. Abandoning that portion of it
on the north shore, as untenable, Macomb withdrew his forces to the
southern bank. Prevost, after a sharp action with the advance of the
American army, was allowed to erect his batteries at his leisure. It
took him four days to complete his works, or rather that time elapsed
before the arrival of the British fleet.
[Sidenote: Sept. 1.]
In the mean time Macomb had sent an express to Governor Chittenden, of
Vermont, telling him that Prevost had commenced his march on
Plattsburg, and beseeching him to call out the militia to his aid. But
this Federalist Governor, acting on the rebellious doctrine of
Massachusetts, coldly replied that he had no authority to send militia
out of the State. On the 4th, Macomb sent another express saying the
army was approaching, that his force was too small to resist it, and
begging for assistance. General Newell, more patriotic than the
Governor, offered to take his brigade over to the help of Macomb, but
the former would not sanction the movement by his authority, though he
advised him to beat up for volunteers. With every feeling of
patriotism deadened by the poison of the spirit of faction--every
generous sentiment and sympathy apparently extinguished--deaf to the
piteous plea rising from a neighboring town, he coldly entrenched
himself behind a party dogma, and let the ruin and devastation sweep
onward. The cannonading on the 6th, by Majors Appling and Wool, who
gallantly attacked the enemy's advance, did not rouse him from his
apathy.
One can hardly imagine that the call he issued for volunteers before
the battle, and the stirring proclamation he made afterwards under the
pressure of popular enthusiasm, emanated from the same person.
The people, however, did not require to be stimulated into patriotism
by their executive. As that sullen thunder came booming over the lake,
it stirred with fiery ardor the gallant sons of that noble State, who
never yet turned a deaf ear to the calls of their country, and before
whose stern and valorous onset the enemy's ranks have never stood
unbroken. Spurning the indifference of their Governor, and trampling
under foot his constitutional scruples, they flew to their homes, and
snatching down their muskets and rifles, and giving a short adieu to
their families, rushed to the shore, and soon the lake was covered
with boats, urged fiercely forward by strong arms and willing hearts
towards the spot where the heavy explosions told that their brave
countrymen were struggling in unequal combat. The face of young Macomb
lighted with joy as his eye fell on those bold men, and a heavy load
was taken from his heart.
Among those who had previously volunteered, was the Rev. Benjamin
Wooster, of Fairfield, Vermont. Responding to the call of Governor
Tompkins, he put himself at the head of his parishioners and repaired
to the American camp, where he endured all the privations of a common
soldier. The aged members of his church and the women, when they saw
him draw up his little flock on the village green, prior to their
departure for the scene of conflict, assembled in the church and sent
for him, saying, "We shall see you no more--come, go to the house of
God and preach us a last sermon, and administer to us the holy
sacrament for the last time." But fearing the effect of so touching an
interview on his own decisions, he refused. Sending them an
affectionate farewell, he embraced his weeping family, kissed his
babes, and gently untwining their arms from his neck, turned away. On
the day of battle this brave old shepherd led his fearless flock into
the fire, with the serenity of a good man doing his duty.
During the summer the English at the northern, and the Americans at
the southern portion of the lake, had been busy in building ships to
contest the supremacy of this sheet of water, whose head pierces so
deep into the bosom of New York. The latter had at length assembled a
flotilla consisting of four vessels--the largest carrying twenty-six
guns--and ten galleys, the whole under the command of Macdonough.
After some skirmishing, this little fleet, which early in the season
lay in Otter Creek, was got into the lake and steered for Plattsburg
Bay, to assist Macomb in his defence of the town. This bay opens to
the southward, and instead of piercing the main land at right angles,
runs north, nearly parallel with the lake itself. A narrow tongue of
land divides it from the main water, the extreme point of which is
called Cumberland Head. Just within its mouth, and nearly opposite
where the turbulent Saranac empties into it, Macdonough anchored his
vessels. [Sidenote: Sept 20.] Between him and the main land was a
large shoal and an island which effectually blocked the approach of
vessels on that side.
The English fleet sent to attack him, consisted, also, of four
vessels--the largest mounting 32 guns--and 13 galleys. The American
force, all told, was 14 vessels, mounting 86 guns and carrying 850
men, while that of the English was 17 vessels, mounting 96 guns and
carrying 1000 men. The largest, the Confiance, "had the gun deck of a
frigate," and by her superior size and strength, and her 30 long
twenty-fours, was considered a match for any two vessels in
Macdonough's squadron. Captain Downie, who commanded the British
fleet, joined his gun boats at the Isle au Motte on the 8th of
September, where he lay at anchor till the 11th. In the mean time,
Prevost, whose batteries were all erected, remained silent behind his
works waiting the arrival of the fleet before he should commence his
fire.
During those sleepless nights, and days of agitation, young Macdonough
lay calmly watching the approach of his superior foe, while Macomb
strained every nerve to complete his defences. Fearless, frank and
social, the young General moved among his soldiers with such animation
and confidence, that they caught his spirit, and like the Green
Mountain boys and yeomanry of New York at Saratoga, resolved to defend
their homes to the last.
[Sidenote: Sept. 11.]
At length, on Sunday morning, just as the sun rose over the eastern
mountains, the American guard boat, on the watch, was seen rowing
swiftly into the harbor. It reported the enemy in sight. The drums
immediately beat to quarters, and every vessel was cleared for action.
The preparations being completed, young Macdonough summoned his
officers around him, and there, on the deck of the Saratoga, read the
prayers of the ritual before entering into battle, and that voice,
which soon after rung like a clarion amid the carnage, sent
heavenward, in earnest tones, "Stir up thy strength, O Lord, and come
and help us, for thou givest not always the battle to the strong, but
canst save by many or by few." It was a solemn and thrilling
spectacle, and one never before witnessed on a vessel of war cleared
for action. A young commander who had the courage thus to brave the
derision and sneers which such an act was sure to provoke, would fight
his vessel while there was a plank left to stand on. Of the deeds of
daring done on that day of great achievements, none evinced so bold
and firm a heart as this act of religious worship.
At eight o'clock the crews of the different vessels could see, over
the tongue of land that divided the bay from the lake, the topsails of
the enemy moving steadily down. These had also been seen from shore,
and every eminence around was covered with anxious spectators. The
house of God was deserted, and the light of that bright Sabbath
morning, with its early stillness, flooded a scene at once picturesque
and terrible. On one side was the hostile squadron, coming down to the
sound of music--on the other, stood the armies on shore in order of
battle, with their banners flying--between, lay Macdonough's silent
little fleet at anchor, while the hills around were black with
spectators, gazing on the strange and fearful panorama.
As the British approached, Macdonough showed his signal, "_Impressed
seamen call on every man to do his duty_." As vessel after vessel
traced the letters, loud cheers rent the air.
The English vessels, under easy sail, swept one after another round
Cumberland Head, and hauling up in the wind, waited the approach of
the galleys.
[Illustration: Battle of Lake Champlain.
Position of the two squadrons.]
As Macdonough lay anchored with his vessels in line north and
south--his galleys on their sweeps forming a second line in rear--the
English fleet, as it doubled the head, was compelled to approach with
bows on. The Eagle was farthest up the bay, the Saratoga second,
Ticonderoga third, and Preble fourth. The impressive silence which
rested on the American fleet was at last broken by the Eagle, which
opened her broadsides. Startled by the sound, a cock on board the
Saratoga, which had escaped from the coop, flew upon a gun slide and
crowed. A loud laugh and three hearty cheers acknowledged the
favorable omen, and spread confidence through the ship. Macdonough,
seeing the enemy were at too great distance to be reached by his guns,
reserved his fire, and watched the Confiance standing boldly on till
she came within range. He then sighted a long twenty-four himself and
fired her. The heavy shot passed the entire length of the deck of the
Confiance, killing many of her men and shivering her wheel into
fragments. This was the signal for every vessel to open its fire, and
in a moment that quiet bay was in an uproar. The Confiance, however,
though suffering severely, did not return a shot, but kept on till she
got within a quarter of a mile, when she let go her anchors and swung
broadside to the Saratoga. Sixteen long twenty-fours then opened at
once with a terrific crash. The Saratoga shook from kelson to cross
trees under the tremendous discharge. Nearly half of her crew were
knocked down by it, while fifty men were either killed or wounded, and
among them Lieutenant Gamble. He was in the act of sighting a gun,
when a shot entered the port and struck him dead. The effect of this
first broadside was awful, and the Saratoga was for a moment
completely stunned. The next, however, she opened her fire with a
precision and accuracy that told fatally on the English ship. But the
latter soon commenced pouring in her broadsides so rapidly that she
seemed enveloped in flame. The Eagle could not withstand it, and
changed her position, falling in nearer shore, leaving the Saratoga to
sustain almost alone the whole weight of the unequal contest. She gave
broadside for broadside, but the weight of metal was against her, and
she was fast becoming a wreck. Her deck soon presented a scene of the
most frightful carnage. The living could hardly tumble the wounded
down the hatchway as fast as they fell. At length, as a full broadside
burst on the staggering ship, a cry of despair rang from stem to
stern, "the Commodore is killed!--the Commodore is killed!" and there
he lay on the blood-stained deck amid the dead, senseless, and
apparently lifeless. A spar, cut in two by a cannon shot, had
fallen on his back and stunned him. But after two or three minutes he
recovered, and cheering on his men, took his place again beside his
favorite gun that he had sighted from the commencement of the action.
As the men saw him once more at his post, they took new courage.
But a few minutes after, the cry of "the Commodore is killed," again
passed through the ship. Every eye was instantly turned to a group of
officers gathered around Macdonough, who lay in the scuppers, between
two guns, covered with blood. He had been knocked clean across the
ship, with a force sufficient to have killed him. Again he revived,
and limping to a gun, was soon coolly hulling his antagonist. Maimed
and suffering, he fought on, showing an example that always makes
heroes of subordinates.
At length every gun on the side of his vessel towards the enemy was
silenced, but one, and this, on firing it again, bounded from its
fastenings, and tumbled down the hatchway. Not a gun was left with
which to continue the contest, while the ship was on fire. A
surrender, therefore, seemed inevitable. Macdonough, however, resolved
to wind his ship, so as to get the other broadside to bear. Failing in
the first attempt, the sailing-master, Brum, bethought him of an
expedient, which proved successful, and the crippled vessel slowly
swung her stern around, until the uninjured guns bore. The Confiance,
seeing the manoeuvre, imitated it, but she could not succeed, and lay
with her crippled side exposed to the fire of the Saratoga.
In a short time not a gun could be brought to bear. Further resistance
was therefore useless, and she surrendered. She had been hulled a
_hundred and five times_, while half of her men were killed and
wounded. Captain Downie had fallen some time before, and hence was
spared the mortification of seeing her flag lowered.
The Eagle, commanded by Capt. Henley, behaved gallantly in the
engagement, while the Ticonderoga, under Lieutenant Cassin, was
handled in a manner that astonished those who beheld her. This
fearless officer walked backward and forward over his deck,
encouraging his men, and directing the fire, apparently unconscious of
the balls that smote and crashed around him. His broadsides were so
incessant, that several times the vessel was thought to be on fire.
The surrender of the Confiance virtually terminated the contest, which
had lasted two hours and a quarter; and as flag after flag struck the
galleys took to their sweeps and escaped.
In the midst of this tremendous cannonade, came, at intervals, the
explosions on shore. The first gun in the bay, was the signal for
Prevost on land, and as the thunder of his heavy batteries mingled in
with the incessant broadsides of the contending squadrons, the very
shores trembled, and far over the lake, amid the quiet farm-houses of
Vermont, the echoes rolled away, carrying anxiety and fear into
hundreds of families. Its shore was lined with men, gazing intently in
the direction of Plattsburgh, as though from the smoke that rolled
heavenward, some tidings might be got of how the battle was going.
To the spectators on the commanding heights around Plattsburgh, the
scene was indescribably fearful and thrilling. It was as if two
volcanoes were raging below--turning that quiet Sabbath morning into a
scene wild and awful as the strife of fiends. But when the firing in
the bay ceased, and the American flag was seen still flying, and the
Union Jack down, there went up a shout that shook the hills. From the
water to the shore, and back again, the deafening huzzas echoed and
re-echoed. The American army took up the shout, and sending it high
and clear over the thunder of cannon, spread dismay and astonishment
into the heart of the enemy's camp.
The American loss in killed and wounded, was one hundred and ten, of
whom all but twenty fell on board the Saratoga and Eagle--that of the
English was never fully known, though it was supposed to be nearly
double.
The force of Macomb was so inferior, and the most of the volunteers
were so recently arrived, that from the first he was advised to
retreat, a course that Wilkinson and Dearborn and Izard would
doubtless have taken, and defended it by rules laid down in books on
military tactics. But Macomb had resolved to fight where he stood. The
two forts of Brown and Scott, which he had erected and named, he
designed should be symbolical of the defence he would make, and the
battle he would fight.
After the British batteries had been in fierce operation for some
time, throwing shells, hot shot and rockets in a perfect shower upon
the American ranks, three columns of attack were formed--two pressing
straight for the bridges, the planks of which had been taken up, and
the third for a ford farther up the river. The last was repulsed by
the volunteers and militia. The other two steadily approached the
bridges, but the artillery rained such a tempest of grape shot on the
uncovered ranks of one, and the pickets and rifles so scourged the
other, that they were driven back to their intrenchments for shelter.
After Macdonough's victory, their fire slackened, not only from
discouragement, but from the destructive effect of the American
gunnery on their batteries, and at nightfall ceased entirely. As soon
as it became dark, Prevost ordered a retreat. So rapidly and silently
was it conducted, that the army had advanced eight miles before Macomb
knew of it. He immediately ordered a pursuit, but this day of strife
had ended in a storm of wind and rain, and it was soon abandoned.
Prevost lost two hundred and fifty in killed and wounded, many of whom
were left on the ground, drenched and beat upon by the storm. These he
commended to the humanity of Macomb, and continued his rapid flight to
the St. Lawrence. That British fleet, shattered and torn, lying at
anchor under the guns of Macdonough, in the bay, and the army of
twelve thousand men streaming through the gloom and rain, panic
stricken, lest the feeble force behind should overtake it, present a
striking contrast to their prospects in the morning, and show how
changeful is fortune. Downie heard not the shout of victory, for he
lay stiff and cold in the vessel he had carried so gallantly into
action, and Prevost did not long survive his defeat.
So large a hostile force had never before crossed the Canada line,
while no such sudden and terrible reverse of fortune had befallen the
feeblest expedition. Two such victories on one day, were enough to
intoxicate the nation. The news spread like wildfire, and shouts and
salvos of artillery, and bonfires, hailed the messengers, as they sped
the glad tidings on. The campaign was closing gloriously. Instead of
the defeats and failures of the last year, there were Chippewa and
Lundy's Lane and Fort Erie, crowned by the victories of Baltimore and
Plattsburgh. The news of the two last, approaching from different
directions, set the land in a glow of transport, and lifted it from
despondency and gloom to confidence and bright expectations.
The Thursday following the battle of Champlain was devoted to the
burial of the officers killed in the naval action. As the procession
of boats left the Confiance, minute guns were fired from the vessels
in the harbor. The artillery and infantry on shore received the dead
and bore them to the place of burial, while the cannon of the forts
responded to those from the fleet, blending their mournful echoes over
the fallen in their prime and manhood. The clouds hung low and gloomy
over lake and land, and the rain fell in a gentle shower, imparting
still greater loneliness to the scene. On this very day, while friends
and foes were thus paying the last tribute of respect to the fallen,
Baltimore was shaking to the huzzas of the inhabitants, at the news
that the British fleet was sailing down the bay, baffled and
disappointed.
[Sidenote: Sept 1.]
Simultaneous with these two invasions of our territory, a British
force was sent against Machias. The misfortune which befel the Adams,
sloop-of-war, compelling her to take refuge at Hampden, in the
Penobscot river, caused a change in the movements of the expedition,
and it did not stop to take Machias, but seized Castine and Belfast,
on the Penobscot bay, then pushed on with a sloop of war and small
craft carrying in all 700 men, to capture this vessel. [Sidenote:
Sept 9.] Machias was then seized, and all the country east of
Penobscot taken possession of. [Sidenote: July 14.] The islands in
Passamaquoddy bay had been seized and occupied two months previous.
Our whole maritime coast was still threatened, and every seaport of
any magnitude, was fortifying itself when Congress assembled again.
The only other military movement of note during this fall, was an
expedition which set out from Detroit, under the command of General
McArthur. It consisted of 700 mounted men, seventy of whom were
Indians, and for secresy, daring and skill was not surpassed during
the war. Its object was to prevent the enemy from molesting Michigan
during the winter, and if successful in its operations, eventually
attack Burlington Heights, and form a junction with Generals Brown and
Izard. This body of seven hundred bold and well-mounted borderers,
left Detroit the 22d of October, and plunged at once into the
wilderness. [Sidenote: Oct 22.] The long and straggling column would
now be seen wading along the shallow shores of the lake, and then be
lost in the primeval forest, to reappear on the bank of deep rivers,
from whose farther shore the wilderness again spread away. The bivouac
by night in the autumnal woods, or on the bank of a stream, presented
a fine subject for a painter. Their seven hundred horses tied to the
trees around, only half relieved by the ruddy fire that strove in
vain to pierce the limitless gloom--the lofty trunks of trees receding
away like the columns in some old dimly-lighted cathedral--the hardy
and rough-looking frontiersmen, stretched with the half-clad savages
around the fire--the sentinels scarcely discernible in the distance,
all combined to form a picture which has a charm even for the most
civilized and refined.
It was, however, no holiday march--expedition was necessary to
success, and the horses were kept to the top of their endurance.
Straining up acclivities, floundering through swamps, struggling with
the rapid currents of rivers, this detachment succeeded in penetrating
more than two hundred miles into the enemy's country, and to within
twenty-five miles of Burlington Heights. It marched more than four
hundred miles, one hundred and eighty of it through an unbroken
wilderness, defeated five hundred militia strongly posted, killed and
wounded twenty-seven men, and took a hundred and eleven prisoners, and
returned with the loss of but one man. [Sidenote: Oct 17.] In the
discipline he maintained, the health of the troops, and their safe
return, McArthur showed himself a skillful and able commander, while
his subordinates deserve the highest commendation.