VOYAGE TO BERMUDA—RENDEZVOUS IN THE CHESAPEAKE—BATTLE OF
BLADENSBURG AND CAPTURE OF WASHINGTON—HARRY SMITH SENT HOME
WITH DISPATCHES.
That afternoon, after seeing my horses off, I embarked in a boat, and
I and all my personal property, my one portmanteau, reached the _Royal
Oak_, at her anchorage a few miles below, about eight o’clock. I found
General Ross had not arrived, but was hourly expected. We soldiers had
heard such accounts of the etiquette required in a man-of-war, the
rigidity with which it was exacted, etc., that I was half afraid of
doing wrong in anything I said or did. When I reached the quarters, the
officer of the watch asked my name, and then, in the most gentlemanlike
and unaffected manner, the lieutenant of the watch, Holmes (with whom
I afterwards became very intimate), showed me aft into the Admiral’s
cabin. Here I saw wine, water, spirits, etc., and at the end of the
table sat the finest-looking specimen of an English sailor I ever saw.
This was Admiral Malcolm, and near him sat Captain Dick, an exceedingly
stout man, a regular representation of John Bull. They both rose
immediately, and welcomed me on board in such an honest and hospitable
manner, that I soon discovered the etiquette consisted in nothing but
a marked endeavour to make us all happy. The fact is that Army and
Navy had recently changed places. When I joined the Army, it was just
at a time when our Navy, after a series of brilliant victories, had
destroyed at Trafalgar the navy of the world. Nine years had elapsed,
and the glories of the Army were so fully appreciated by our gallant
brothers of the sea service, we were now by them regarded as the heroes
whom I well recollect I thought them to be in 1805.
The Admiral says, “Come, sit down and have a glass of grog.” I was so
absorbed in the thought that this large floating ship was to bear me
away from all I held so dear, that down I sat, and seized a bottle
(gin, I believe), filled a tumbler half full, and then added some
water. “Well done!” says the Admiral. “I have been at sea, man and
boy, these forty years, but d—— me, if I ever saw a stiffer glass
of grog than that in my life.” He afterwards showed me my cabin,
telling me he was punctual in his hours. “I breakfast at eight, dine
at three, have tea in the evening, and grog at night, as you see; and
if you are thirsty or want anything, my steward’s name is Stewart, a
Scotchman like myself—tell the Marine at the cabin door to call him
and desire him to bring you everything you want.” I shall never forget
the kindness I received on board the _Royal Oak_, and subsequently on
board the _Menelaus_ (commanded by poor Sir Peter Parker), and from
every ship and every sailor with whom I became associated. Our Navy are
noble fellows, and their discipline and the respect on board for rank
are a bright example to the more familiar habits of our Army.
General Ross arrived next morning, with his A.D.C., Tom Falls, a
Captain in the 20th, and Lieut. De Lacy Evans (subsequently of great
notoriety), both as good-hearted fellows as ever wore a sword. The
fleet sailed in the afternoon. The troops all embarked in men-of-war,
with the lower-deck guns out. We had on board a Company of Artillery;
otherwise the force consisted of the 4th Regiment, the 44th, and the
85th. We had a very slow but beautiful passage to St. Michael’s, one of
the Western Islands, where, as Admiral Malcolm said, “that d——d fellow
Clavering, the Duke of York’s enemy, had the impudence to call on me,”
and we embarked live bullocks, fruit, and vegetables.
The parts capable of cultivation in this island are most fertile, and
the inhabitants (all Portuguese) looked cheerful and happy. I could
then speak Portuguese like a native. One day on shore I walked into a
large draper’s shop, where I was quite struck by the resemblance of the
man behind the counter to my old clerk, Sergeant Manuel. After some
little conversation, I discovered he actually was his brother. At first
I doubted it, but he fetched me a bundle of letters in which my name
frequently appeared. It was an extraordinary rencontre, and my friend
Señor Manuel’s attention to me was very “gostozo” indeed.
We sailed for Bermuda in a few days. It was a long passage, but we had
fine weather until we neared Bermuda, when we fell in with a violent
thunderstorm, which carried away the mizen topmast of the _Royal Oak_.
Much of my time was spent with my friend Holmes, and many is the time
I have walked the quarter-deck with him. In any state of grief or
excitement, some one who participates and sympathizes in your feeling
is always sought for, and this warm-hearted fellow fully entered
into all I must feel at the fate of my wife—a foreigner in a foreign
land, to whom, though surrounded by many kind friends, everything was
strange, everything brought home the absence of that being on whom her
life depended.
On reaching Bermuda we found the 21st Regiment awaiting us, and a
communication from the Admiral, Cochrane, Commander-in-chief of
the Navy (who commanded on the coast of America 170 Pennons of all
descriptions), that a Battalion of Marines was organized under Colonel
Malcolm, the Admiral’s brother, upwards of 800 strong, so that General
Ross’s force became respectable. The Admiral proposed to _rendezvous_
in Chesapeake Bay so soon as possible.
Ross organized his force into three Brigades, one commanded by Colonel
Thornton, the second by Colonel Brooke, the third, which comprised all
Naval auxiliaries, by Colonel Malcolm. A Brigade-Major was appointed
to each. I was put in orders Deputy Adjutant-General; Evans, Deputy
Quartermaster-General. The price of things on this spot in the ocean
was enormous; I, Evans, Macdougall, of the 85th, Holmes of the Navy,
etc., dined on shore at the inn one day, and were charged fifteen
Spanish dollars for a miserable turkey; but the excellent fish called a
“groper” made up for the price of the turkey.
General Ross left the troops here, and proceeded to join the Naval
Commander-in-chief in a frigate. I was the only Staff officer left
with Admiral Malcolm, who was quite as much a soldier in heart as a
sailor; he prided himself very much on having brought home the Duke of
Wellington (when Sir A. Wellesley) from India, and he landed his army
at Mondego Bay, before Vimiera. I never saw a man sleep so little: four
hours a night was plenty, and half that time he would talk aloud in his
sleep, and if you talked with him would answer correctly, although next
morning he recollected nothing.
To get from the anchorage at Bermuda is difficult, and the wind was
contrary, and appeared so likely to continue so, that the Admiral
resolved on the boldest thing that was ever attempted, viz. to take
the whole fleet through the North-east Passage—a thing never done but
by one single frigate. There was only one man in the island who would
undertake to pilot the 74 _Royal Oak_ through. The passage is most
intricate, and the pilot directs the helmsman by ocular demonstration,
that is, by looking into the water at the rocks. It was the most
extraordinary thing ever seen, the rocks visible under water all round
the ship. Our pilot, a gentleman, said there was only one part of the
passage which gave him any apprehension. There was a turn in it, and
he was afraid the _Royal Oak_ was so long her bows would touch. When
her rudder was clear, on my honour, there appeared not a foot to spare.
The breeze was very light; at one period, for half an hour, it almost
died away. The only expression the Admiral was heard to make use of
was, “Well, if the breeze fails us, it will be a good turn I have done
the Yankees.” He certainly was a man of iron nerves. The fleet all got
through without one ship touching. The Admiral’s tender, a small sloop,
ran on a rock, but was got off without injury.
At night, after the fleet was well clear (and the bold attempt was of
every importance to the success of our expedition, which, as we now
began to observe, evidently meditated the capture of Washington), we
had rather a good passage to the mouth of the Chesapeake, where we
met the Admiral Chief in Command and General Ross. We did not anchor,
having a leading wind to take us up the bay. We were going ten knots
when the frigate struck on the tail of a bank, with a crash like an
earthquake; she got over, however, without injury. We anchored off the
mouth of the Patuxen, the river which leads to Washington.
Next day all the Staff were assembled on board the _Tonnant_, and all
the Admirals came on board. We had present—Sir A. Cochrane, Admiral
Cockburn (of great renown on the American coast), Admiral Malcolm,
Admiral Codrington, Captain of the Fleet, and, if I recollect right,
Sir T. Hardy, but he left us next day. After much discussion and poring
over bad maps, it was resolved the force should sail up the serpentine
and wooded Patuxen in the frigates and smaller vessels. This we did,
and it was one of the most beautiful sights the eye could behold. The
course of the large river was very tortuous, the country covered with
immense forest trees; thus, to look back, the appearance was that
of a large fleet stalking through a wood. We went up as far as we
could, and the Navy having very dexterously and gallantly burned and
destroyed Commodore Barney’s flotilla, which was drawn up to oppose our
passage [19, 20 Aug.], the army was landed about thirty-six miles from
Washington. I cannot say my dear friend General Ross inspired me with
the opinion he was the officer Colborne regarded him as being. He was
very cautious in responsibility—awfully so, and lacked that dashing
enterprise so essential to carry a place by a _coup de main_. He died
the death of a gallant soldier, as he was, and friendship for the man
must honour the manes of the brave.
We fell in with the enemy on our second day’s march, well posted on the
eastern bank. We were told that the only approach to their position
was by a bridge through the village of Bladensburg. The day we landed,
a most awful spectacle of a man named Calder came in to give us
information. He was given in my charge, the secret service department
having been confided to me. The poor wretch was covered with leprosy,
and I really believe was induced to turn traitor to his country in the
hope of receiving medical [aid] from our surgeons, in the miserable
state of disease he was in. If such was his object, he is partly to be
pardoned. He was a very shrewd, intelligent fellow, and of the utmost
use to us. He was afterwards joined by a young man of the name of
Brown, as healthy a looking fellow as he was the reverse, who was very
useful to us as a guide and as a scout.
When the head of the Light Brigade reached the rising ground, above
the bridge, Colonel Thornton immediately proposed to attack, which
astonished me [Battle of Bladensburg, 24 Aug.], We old Light Division
always took a good look before we struck, that we might find a
vulnerable part. I was saying to General Ross we should make a feint
at least on the enemy’s left flank, which rested on the river higher
up, and I was in the act of pointing out the position, guns, etc.,
when Colonel Thornton again proposed to move on. I positively laughed
at him. He got furiously angry with me; when, to my horror and
astonishment, General Ross consented to this isolated and premature
attack. “Heavens!” says I, “if Colborne was to see this!” and I could
not refrain from saying, “General Ross, neither of the other Brigades
can be up in time to support this mad attack, and if the enemy fight,
Thornton’s Brigade must be repulsed.” It happened just as I said.
Thornton advanced, under no cloud of sharpshooters, such as we Light
Division should have had, to make the enemy unsteady and render their
fire ill-directed. They were strongly posted behind redoubts and
in houses, and reserved their fire until Thornton was within fifty
yards. Thornton was knocked over, and Brown, commanding the 85th Light
Infantry, and Captain Hamilton, a noble fellow from the 52nd, were
killed, and the attack repulsed. “There,” says I, “there is the art of
war and all we have learned under the Duke given in full to the enemy!”
Thornton’s Brigade was ordered to hold its own until the arrival of the
Brigade consisting of the 4th and 44th under Brooke, many men having
dropped down dead on the march from the heat, being fat and in bad wind
from having been so long on board. As the Brigades closed up, General
Ross says, “Now, Smith, do you stop and bring into action the other two
Brigades as fast as possible.” “Upon what points, sir?” He galloped
to the head of Thornton’s people, and said, “Come on, my boys,” and
was the foremost man until the victory was complete. He had two horses
shot under him, and was shot in the clothes in two or three places. I
fed the fight for him with every possible vigour. Suffice it to say we
licked the Yankees and took all their guns, with a loss of upwards of
300 men, whereas Colborne would have done the same thing with probably
a loss of 40 or 50, and we entered Washington for the barbarous purpose
of destroying the city. Admiral Cockburn would have burnt the whole,
but Ross would only consent to the burning of the public buildings.
I had no objection to burn arsenals, dockyards, frigates building,
stores, barracks, etc., but well do I recollect that, fresh from the
Duke’s humane warfare in the South of France, we were horrified at the
order to burn the elegant Houses of Parliament and the President’s
house. In the latter, however, we found a supper all ready, which was
sufficiently cooked without more fire, and which many of us speedily
consumed, unaided by the fiery elements, and drank some very good wine
also.[52] I shall never forget the destructive majesty of the flames
as the torches were applied to beds, curtains, etc. Our sailors were
artists at the work. Thus was fought the Battle of Bladensburg, which
wrested from the Americans their capital Washington, and burnt its
Capitol and other buildings with the ruthless firebrand of the Red
Savages of the woods. Neither our Admirals nor the Government at home
were satisfied that we had not allowed the work of destruction to
progress, as it was considered the total annihilation of Washington
would have removed the seat of government to New York, and the Northern
and Federal States were adverse to the war with England.
We remained two days, or rather nights, at Washington, and retired
on the third night in a most injudicious manner. I had been out in
the camp, and when I returned after dark, General Ross says, “I have
ordered the army to march at night.” “To-night?” I said. “I hope
not, sir. The road you well know, for four miles to Bladensburg, is
excellent, and wide enough to march with a front of subdivisions. After
that we have to move through woods by a track, not a road. Let us move
so as to reach Bladensburg by daylight. Our men will have a nights
rest, and be refreshed after the battle. I have also to load all the
wounded, and to issue flour, which I have also caused to be collected.”
(I had seized in Washington everything in the shape of transport, and
Baxter, the Staff Surgeon, brought away every wounded man who could
travel.) General Ross said, “I have made the arrangement with Evans,
and we must march.” I muttered to myself, “Oh, for dear John Colborne!”
We started at nine, and marched rapidly and in good order to
Bladensburg, where we halted for about an hour to load the wounded.
The barrels of flour were arranged in the streets, the heads knocked
in, and every soldier told to take some. Soldiers are greedy fellows,
and many filled their haversacks. During a tedious night’s march
through woods as dark as chaos, they found the flour far from agreeable
to carry and threw it away by degrees. If it had not been for the flour
thus marking the track, the whole column would have lost its road. Such
a scene of intolerable and unnecessary confusion I never witnessed. At
daylight we were still not three miles from Bladensburg. Our soldiers
were dead done, and so fatigued, there was nothing for it but to halt
and bring into play the flour, which was soon set about, while we Staff
were looking out like a Lieutenant of the Navy in chase, to see the
Yankees come down upon us with showers of sharpshooters. Thanks to
their kind consideration they abstained from doing so, but we were very
much in their power.
I now began to see how it was that our Light Division gentlemen
received so much credit in the army of the dear Duke. I recommend
every officer in command to avoid a night march as he would the devil,
unless on a good road, and even thus every precaution must be taken
by all staff officers to keep up the communications, or regularity
cannot be ensured. I have seen many night marches, but I never yet saw
time gained, or anything, beyond the evil of fatiguing your men and
defeating your own object. You may move before daylight, _i.e._ an
hour or two, if the nights are light. By this means, about the time
the column requires collection, daylight enables you to do it. You have
got a start of your enemy, your men are in full vigour either to march
rapidly or, in case of difficulty, to fight. But avoid night marches.
However, owing to their want of knowledge of the art of war, the enemy
on this occasion allowed us to get to our boats perfectly unmolested.
On one of the days we were near Washington a storm came on, a regular
hurricane. It did not last more than twenty minutes, but it was
accompanied by a deluge of rain and such a gale that it blew down all
our piles of arms and blew the drums out of camp. I never witnessed
such a scene as I saw for a few minutes. It resembled the storm in
Belshazzar’s feast,[53] and we learnt that even in the river, sheltered
by the woods, several of our ships at anchor had been cast on their
beam ends.
We gave out we were going to Annapolis, and thence to Baltimore to
re-act the conflagration of Washington, and the bait took. Some
American gentlemen came in under a flag of truce, evidently to have
a look at us, but avowedly to ask how private property had been
respected. Their observations were frustrated by our vigilance. I was
sent out to receive them, and nothing could exceed their gentlemanlike
deportment. I loaded them with questions about roads, resources,
force, etc., etc., at Annapolis and Baltimore. It was evident they
took the bait, for that night we heard their army was off in full
force to Annapolis, leaving us quietly to get down to our ships. We
made arrangements for the care and provisioning of the wounded we had
left at Bladensburg, and the attention and care they received from the
Americans became the character of a civilized nation.
We reached our landing-place unmolested, and at our leisure embarked
our army, which began to suffer very much from dysentery. A long
sea voyage is the worst possible preparation for long and fatiguing
marches. The men are fat, in no exercise, have lost the habit of
wearing their accoutrements, packs, etc.—in short, they are not the
same army they were on embarcation. Before our men left the Gironde,
thirty miles a day would have been nothing to them.
General Ross, just before we went on board, sent for me (there never
was a more kind or gallant soldier), and said, “Smith, the sooner I
get my dispatch home the better. As you know, it is nearly ready, and
as poor Falls, my A.D.C., is too unwell, it is my intention you should
be the bearer of my dispatches, and that Falls should go home for the
benefit of his health.” This most unexpected arrangement set me on the
_qui vive_ indeed. I had not been in England for seven years. Wife,
home, country, all rushed in my mind at once. The General said, “A
frigate is already ordered by the Admiral.”
This day my information man, Calder the Leper, came to me, and told me
that Brown had been taken and would be hung. I was much distressed.
Although one cannot admire a traitor to his country, yet I was some
degree of gratitude in his debt, and I said, “Well, Calder, but can
we do nothing to save him?” “Well, now I calculate that’s not to be
denied, and if I hear General Ross say, ‘If I catch that rascal Brown,
I will hang him like carrion,’ he may be saved, for I would go at once
among our people (they will not injure me), and I will swear I heard
General Ross say so.” I immediately went to the General. On the first
view of the thing, his noble nature revolted at making an assertion
he never intended to abide by. At length, however, to save the poor
wretch’s life, he consented, and in course of a desultory conversation
with Calder, dovetailed the words required into it. I saw Calder catch
at it. When he left the General’s tent, he said to me, “Well, now, I
calculate Brown may yet live many years.” He left us that night with
a purse of money and a long string of medical instructions for the
benefit of his health from one of our surgeons. “Ah,” says he, “this
will save _me_” (meaning the medical advice); “I can save Brown.” I
had an hieroglyphical note from him brought by a slave, just before I
sailed [30? Aug. 1814], to say “All’s right, you may reckon.” I told
this story afterwards to the Prince Regent. He was exceedingly amused.
The _Iphigenia_ frigate, Captain King, was to take me home, and
Captain Wainwright of the _Tonnant_ was to be the bearer of the naval
dispatches. Sir Alexander Cochrane, Admiral Cockburn, and Evans,
burning with ambition, had urged General Ross to move on Baltimore. The
General was against it, and kindly asked my opinion. I opposed it, not
by opinions or argument, but by a simple statement of facts.
“1. We have, by a ruse, induced the enemy to concentrate all his means
at Baltimore.
“2. A _coup de main_ like the conflagration of Washington may be
effected once during a war, but can rarely be repeated.
“3. The approach to Baltimore Harbour will be effectually obstructed.”
“Oh,” says the General, “so the Admirals say; but they say that in one
hour they would open the passage.” I laughed. “It is easier said than
done, you will see, General.” (The passage defied their exertions when
tested.)
“4. Your whole army is a handful of men, and the half of them are sick
from dysentery.
“5. Your success in the attack on Washington is extraordinary, and
will have a general effect. Your success on Baltimore would add little
to that effect, admitting you were successful, which I again repeat I
doubt, while a reverse before Baltimore would restore the Americans’
confidence in their own power, and wipe away the stain of their
previous discomfiture.”
General Ross says, “I agree with you. Such is my decided opinion.”
“Then, sir, may I tell Lord Bathurst you will not go to Baltimore?” He
said, “Yes.” I was delighted, for I had a presentiment of disaster,
founded on what I have stated.
The day we were to sail in the _Iphigenia_, as I left the _Tonnant_,
kind-hearted General Ross, whom I loved as a brother, accompanied me to
the gangway. His most sensible and amiable wife was at Bath. I promised
to go there the moment I had delivered my dispatches, and of course I
was charged with a variety of messages. In the warmth of a generous
heart he shook my hand, and said, “A pleasant voyage, dear Smith,
and thank you heartily for all your exertions and the assistance you
have afforded me. I can ill spare you.” My answer was, “Dear friend,
I will soon be back to you, and may I assure Lord Bathurst you will
not attempt Baltimore?” “_You may._” These were the last words I ever
heard that gallant soul utter. He was over-ruled: attempted Baltimore
[12 Sept. 1814], failed, and lost his noble life. A more gallant and
amiable man never existed, and one who, in the continuance of command,
would have become a General of great ability. But few men, who from a
Regiment to a Brigade are suddenly pushed into supreme authority and
have a variety of conflicting considerations to cope with—Navy, Army,
country, resources, etc., are at the outset perfectly at home.
The _Iphigenia_ had a most extraordinary passage from the Chesapeake to
our anchorage at Spithead. We were only twenty-one days. The kindness
I received from Captain King I shall never forget. The rapidity of our
voyage was consonant to my feelings and in perfect accordance with my
character.