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YANKEE SHIPS AND YANKEE SAILORS:--TALES OF 1812
[Illustration: "It was Lieutenant Allen!"]
Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors:--Tales of 1812
By
James Barnes
Author of "Naval Engagements of the War of 1812"
"A Loyal Traitor," "For King or Country," etc.
With Numerous Illustrations by
R. F. Zogbaum and Carlton T. Chapman.
New York
The Macmillan Company
London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.
1897
_All rights reserved_
Copyright, 1897,
By The Macmillan Company.
Set up and electrotyped October, 1897. Reprinted November, 1897.
_Norwood Press
J. S. Cusbing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A._
_To my Brother_
PREFACE
In presenting this volume of "Tales of 1812" it is not the intention of
the author to give detailed accounts of actions at sea or to present
biographical sketches of well-known heroes; he wishes but to tell
something of the ships that fought the battles, whose names are
inseparably connected with a glorious past, and to relate incidents
connected with the Yankee sailors who composed their crews--"A Yankee
Ship and a Yankee Crew"--thus runs the old song; it is to exploit both
in a measure that is the intention of this book. Brave fellows, these
old-time Jackies were. Their day has gone by with the departed day
also, of the storm-along captains, the men who carried sail in all
sorts of weather, who took their vessels through dangerous passages
unmarked by buoys, with only the fickle wind to drive them, who sailed
into the enemy's cruising-grounds, and counting on the good Yankee pine
and live oak, had perilous escapes and adventures which fiction cannot
exaggerate. It stirs one's blood to read of these. Surely, it will not
arouse a hatred for by-gone enemies, to hark back to them.
The incidents made use of in the following pages are historical, or at
least authentic--some may perhaps come under the head of tradition.
Tradition is historical rumor; it may be proved by investigation to be
actual fact, or it may be accepted at its face value, on account of its
probability. To investigate, one is led to break open and dissect and
sometimes we destroy a wealth of sentiment in the proceeding; by
casting aside tradition that is harmless we destroy the color of
history; we may lose its side lights and shadows that give vividness
and beauty to the whole effect. It has not been a spirit of research
into the science of history, or a chance for deep delving into figures
and records, that has animated the author, although he has drawn upon
state papers for material, and all correspondence and important
references can be vouched for. He has endeavored to refreshen the
colors by removing the dust that may have settled. He has touched the
fragile bric-a-brac of tradition with the feather duster of
investigation. There is sufficient excuse for everything that is
written in this book. Facts are not lacking to prove much here to be
true. It will not confuse our historical knowledge to accept it thus.
We can draw accurate conclusions as to what kind of men these fine old
fellows were; how they looked; how they spoke and acted. Their deeds
are part of the nation's record, and their ships exist now in the shape
of a few old hulls. We can mark how carefully and strongly they were
constructed; we can imagine them swarming with men and quivering
beneath the thunder of broadsides. The author has tried to put the
sailor back upon his ship again. Here we have the old tales now retold;
retold by one who loves to listen to them, therefore to talk about
them. This is his prologue to the telling, and that is all there is to
it.
CONTENTS
Page
Allen, of the _Chesapeake_ 1
Reuben James, Able Seaman 23
The Men behind the Times 33
The Coward 51
The Scapegoat 87
The Loss of the _Vixen_ 109
In the Harbor of Fayal 125
The Escape of Symington 147
The Narragansett 171
Fighting Stewart 195
Two Duels 215
Dartmoor 235
The Rival Life-Savers 259
Random Adventures 271
List of Illustrations
Opposite Page
"It was Lieutenant Allen!" 18
"Reuben James sprang forward" 30
"'What d'ye mean by attackin' a peaceful whaler?'" 47
"Carefully he lowered away" 79
"'Stay here no longer--though I would have you with me'" 104
"Everything was done that good seamanship could direct" 120
"There was a figure crawling up below him" 141
"She came about like a peg top" 167
"Over fence and hedge" 190
"A discussion that grew more heated every moment" 212
"'I observed it,' said the Lieutenant" 225
"The deadly volley" 258
"'Now we have him, lads!'" 268
ALLEN, OF THE _CHESAPEAKE_
Give a ship an unlucky name, and it will last throughout the whole of
her career. A sailor is proverbially superstitious, and he clings
jealously to tradition.
It is told that when the frigate _Chesapeake_ was launched she stuck
fast on the ways, and did not reach the water until the following day,
which was Friday. Although she was a fine vessel to look at, she
grounded upon the bar upon her first attempt to sail, and, when once
free, behaved herself in such a lubberly fashion that those who
witnessed her starting out declared she was bewitched. Even after many
changes had been made in the length of her masts, in the weight of
spars, and the cut of sails, still she was considered by many a
failure. And, although her sailing qualities improved as time went on,
yet her bad name stuck to her, as bad names will.
Given this drawback, the unlucky captain of such a craft finds it
difficult to recruit a proper crew, and must often be content with
green hands, or the riffraff disdained by other ships' masters.
Commodore James Barron, who had been ordered to the _Chesapeake_, was a
brave officer. He had succeeded the peppery Commodore Preble in command
of the fleet that had so successfully negotiated the operations before
Tripoli, and there he had won for himself a name and reputation.
Nevertheless, he was not entirely popular with his officers. They
failed to find in him the graciousness of manner and deportment, the
strict adherence to the lines of duty, and yet the kindliness of
thought and conduct that distinguished young Captain Bainbridge; and
they missed, strange to say, the iron hand and stern rule of Preble,
the martinet.
Just before sailing from the Capes to relieve the _Constitution_ on the
Mediterranean station, the _Chesapeake_ had recruited, from Delaware
and Maryland, a green crew. Not above fifty of her complement were
men-of-warsmen. Perhaps one hundred more had seen service in deep-sea
craft, and had made long cruises; but the rest, numbering probably one
hundred and fifty, were longshoremen or landsmen. Lying inside the
mouth of Chesapeake Bay were several British men-of-war. As was usual
when in American ports, they were compelled to watch their crews most
closely, for the higher pay and the better treatment, which cannot be
denied, had tempted many an impressed seaman to leave his ship, and
take refuge under the American flag.
It was claimed by Vice-Admiral Berkeley in command of the English
fleet, that four British sailors had deserted from the _Melampus_,
and joined Barron's frigate. The following correspondence passed
between Robert Smith, the Secretary of the Navy at Washington, and
Commodore Barron, in relation to the matter. It explains in the best
way possible, how affairs stood at the outset.
WASHINGTON, April 6, 1807.
_To Commodore James Barron_:--
SIR: It has been represented to me that William Ware, Daniel
Martin, John Strachan, John Little, and others, deserters from a
British ship of war at Norfolk, have been entered by the recruiting
officer at that place for our service. You will be pleased to make
full inquiry relative to these men (especially, if they are
American citizens), and inform me of the result. You will
immediately direct the recruiting officer in no case to enter
deserters from British ships of war.
ROBT. SMITH.
To this letter Commodore Barron made haste to reply, and the following
is taken _verbatim_ from his note to the Secretary:--
"William Ware was pressed from on board the brig _Neptune_, Captain
Crafts, by the British frigate, _Melampus_, in the Bay of Biscay
(in 1805).... He is a native American, born at Bruce's Mills, on
Pipe Creek, in the county of Frederick, Maryland, and served his
time at said mills. He also lived at Ellicot's Mills, near
Baltimore, and drove a waggon several years between Hagerstown and
Baltimore. He also served eighteen months on board the U.S.
frigate, _Chesapeake_, under the command of Captain Morris and
Captain J. Barron. He is an Indian-looking man.
"Daniel Martin was impressed at the same time and place; a native
of Westport, in Massachusetts, about thirty miles to the eastward
of Newport, Rhode Island; served his time out of New York with
Captain Marrowby of the _Caledonia_; refers to Mr. Benjamin
Davis, merchant, and Mr. Benjamin Corse, of Westport. He is a
colored man.
"John Strachan, born in Queen Ann's County, Maryland, between
Centreville and Queenstown; sailed in the brigantine _Martha
Bland_, Captain Wyvill, from Norfolk to Dublin, and from thence to
Liverpool. He then left the vessel and shipped on board an English
Guineaman; he was impressed on board the _Melampus_, off Cape
Finisterre; to better his condition he consented to enter, being
determined to make his escape when opportunity offered; he served
on board said frigate two years; refers to Mr. John Price and ----
Pratt, Esq., on Kent Island, who know his relatives. He is a white
man, about five feet seven inches high.
"William Ware and John Strachan have protections.[1] Daniel Martin
says he lost his after leaving the frigate.
[1] Papers proving their American citizenship.
"John Little, _alias_ Francis and Ambrose Watts, escaped from the
_Melampus_ at the same time, are known to the above persons to be
Americans, but have not been entered by my recruiting officer."
The foregoing proves beyond all manner of doubt what ground Commodore
Barron had in taking the stand he did further on in the proceedings.
But Admiral Berkeley was a very proud, obstinate man. His feelings had
been hurt by the refusal of the Yankee commodore to give up his men,
and he bided his time.
On Monday, June 22, 1807, the _Chesapeake_ put to sea with her
ill-assorted and undisciplined crew. In the harbor of Lynnhaven lay the
British squadron under the command of Commodore Douglass, acting under
the orders of Vice-Admiral Berkeley. It consisted of the _Bellona_,
seventy-four, the _Triumph_, seventy-four, the _Leopard_, fifty, and
the _Melampus_, thirty-eight. Why it was that the _Leopard_ was
selected for the work which was to follow, is easy to surmise.
Vice-Admiral Berkeley had determined, at all hazards, to search the
American vessel to ascertain if she had in her complement those
"British seamen" who had deserted from the fleet. Barron's refusal to
allow a search made of his vessel while she was in port had been backed
up by the United States Government. This had exceedingly exasperated
the English commander, and he determined to wait until the _Chesapeake_
was at sea before putting his cherished project into practice. As soon
as the _Chesapeake_ set sail, the _Leopard_ was despatched to bring
her to. The _Melampus_ was not sent because she was too near the
_Chesapeake's_ armament, and resistance might be successfully made to
any attempt at high-handed interference. Nor did he take the trouble to
despatch one of his seventy-fours, which might have brought the
_Chesapeake_ under her guns, and compelled her to submit by the law
that "might makes right"; but the _Leopard_ was sent because she was
just large enough to insure success, and yet to humble the American
from the mere fact that he must inevitably yield to a vessel to which
he should by rights make some resistance.
It was a calm day with just enough wind to move the ships through the
water. The _Leopard_, that had really got under way first, overhauled
the smaller vessel, after a few hours' sailing. At three o'clock, when
forty-five miles off shore, she hove to across her bows, and the slight
wind that had wafted them from the Capes died away almost at the
moment. Hailing the American ship's captain, Humphreys stated that he
would like to send despatches by her--a privilege always accorded one
friendly nation by another.
On the _Chesapeake's_ deck, chatting with the officers, were two lady
passengers, who were bound with four or five gentlemen passengers for
the Straits. Part of the cabin had been allotted to the use of the
ladies and their maids. As they had come on board at a late hour, their
trunks and luggage were yet on the deck. Amicable relations existed
between America and England, and there was nothing especially
unfriendly in the attitude of the English frigate, although her action
excited much comment on board the ship, and gave rise to many surmises.
Captain Barron was on the quarter-deck, when news was brought to him
that the _Leopard_ had lowered a boat with an officer in it, and that
it was making for the _Chesapeake's_ side. The ladder was dropped,
the side boys were piped to the gangway, and Barron himself stepped
forward to greet the Lieutenant, extending his hand and welcoming him
graciously. Standing close by was Dr. John Bullus, a passenger, the
newly-appointed consul to the Island of Minorca, and the naval agent to
the United States naval squadron in the Mediterranean.
"Captain Humphreys' compliments," began the Lieutenant. "And he
requires the privilege of searching this vessel for deserters."
"What are their names, may I ask?" inquired Barron.
The officer replied, reading from a list he carried in his hand, but
describing the men as subjects of "His Majesty, King George."
When he had finished, Barron frowned.
"There has been a careful and full inquiry into the cases of these
seamen," he said at last, "and after a minute investigation into the
circumstances, the British Minister, Mr. Erskine, is perfectly
satisfied on the subject, inasmuch as these men were American citizens,
impressed by officers of the _Melampus_. This gentleman," turning
to Dr. Bullus, "our naval agent, is particularly acquainted with all
the facts and circumstances relative to the transaction. He received
his information from the highest possible source."
"From none less than the Honorable Robert Smith, the Secretary of our
Navy," put in Dr. Bullus, "and I am most willing to go on board the
_Leopard_ and inform your commander to that effect, Mr. Erskine----"
"I do not recognize Mr. Erskine in this business," interrupted the
young Lieutenant arrogantly. "Nor do I wish to talk with any one but
Captain Barron. There is much more to be said."
Barron took the doctor to one side. "You will pardon me for placing you
in a position to receive such an insult. I did not suppose it
possible."
"Make no mention of it," was the return; "I understand." With that the
agent walked away.
The Englishman could not have helped noticing the confusion upon the
American's decks. The crew were engaged under the direction of the
petty officers in coiling away the stiff, new running-gear and cables,
men with paint-pots and brushes were touching up the bulwarks and paint
work; others were polishing the brass; and it was altogether a peaceful
scene that struck his eye, even if the presence of the ladies had not
added the finishing touch.
On the quarter-deck, leaning carelessly against the railing, was a
young officer, Lieutenant William Henry Allen, third in rank. He was
but twenty-three years of age, a tall, boyish-looking fellow, with
beautiful features, clear eye and complexion, and ruddy cheeks. He
noticed the glance the English officer had given, and his face clouded.
He was near enough to hear what passed between Barron and the
Lieutenant.
"It is of such importance," went on the latter, continuing his previous
remarks, "that I should desire to speak to you in private, sir. If we
could but retire to your cabin----"
"With the greatest pleasure in the world," Barron returned, indicating
that the Lieutenant should precede him; and with that they disappeared
from view. Once seated at the cabin table, the Englishman broached the
subject without preamble.
"Commodore Douglass," he began, "is fully determined to recover the
deserters that are now harbored on board this ship. It is my desire to
warn you that it is best that you submit to a peaceable search, and in
return my commanding officer will permit you to do the same, and if any
of your men are found in our complement, you are welcome to take them
with you. This should bear great weight in helping you to form your
decision. Here is his letter."
Captain Barron took the paper, broke the seal, and read as follows:--
_The Commander of H.B. Majesty's ship, "Leopard," to the Captain
of the U.S. ship, "Chesapeake":_--
AT SEA, June 22d, 1807.
The Captain of H.B. Majesty's ship, Leopard, has the honor to
enclose the Captain of the U.S. ship, _Chesapeake_, an order from
the Honorable Vice-Admiral Berkeley, Commander-in-chief of His
Majesty's ships on the North American Station, respecting some
deserters from the ships (therein mentioned) under his command, and
supposed to be now serving as part crew of the _Chesapeake_.
The Captain of the _Leopard_ will not presume to say anything in
addition to what the commander-in-chief has stated, more than to
express a hope that every circumstance respecting them may be
adjusted in a manner that the harmony subsisting between the two
countries may remain undisturbed.
"As I before remarked," said the Lieutenant, noting that Barron had
finished the letter, "Captain Humphreys offers you the privilege of a
mutual search."
Captain Barron smiled. The idea that he should find any of his own men
serving on board King George's vessel was rather amusing.
"I have missed none of my crew," he said quietly, "and, while grateful
for the privilege, I do not desire to make use of it."
"And your answer?" broke in the Lieutenant.
"You will take this letter, that I shall write, to Captain Humphreys,
give him my best compliments, and of course inform him that I regret
that I can neither avail myself of his courtesy, nor with honor can I
permit a search to be made of my vessel."
"As you decide," returned the Lieutenant, sententiously.
For some minutes nothing was heard from the cabin. Barron was busily
employed in inditing the epistle, and when it was delivered, the two
officers came out together.
The following is a copy of the letter to Captain Humphreys:--
_To the Commander of His Majesty's ship, "Leopard":_--
AT SEA, June 22d.
I know of no such men as you describe. The officers that were on
the recruiting service for this ship were particularly instructed
by my government through me not to enter any deserters from H.B.
Majesty's ships. Nor do I know of any being here. I am also
instructed never to permit the crew of any ship under my command to
be mustered by any other than their own officers. It is my
disposition to preserve harmony, and I hope this answer to your
despatch will prove satisfactory.
J. BARRON.
The Englishman was escorted to the side, and once in his boat, his
crew, as if urged to special exertion, made all haste to gain their
ship.
Allen turned and spoke to Benjamin Smith, the First Lieutenant. "I do
not like the look of things," he said.
"Nor I," responded Smith, advancing toward the Captain, who had stopped
to speak to one of the lady passengers. He saluted his commander, and
speaking in a low voice, he suggested the propriety of asking the
ladies to retire below, and of clearing ship.
"Tut, tut," replied Barron, carelessly; "you are over-nervous, Mr.
Smith. My letter to Captain Humphreys will convince him that our
actions are perfectly proper and peaceable, while any movement to prove
to the contrary might lead him to suppose that I wished to precipitate
some trouble. Nothing will occur, I warrant you."
"Had we not better open the magazines, sir?" asked Captain Gordon,
coming up at this moment.
"It is not necessary," Barron returned, and once more joined the
ladies.
The keys of the magazine are always kept in the possession of the
ship's captain, and by him they are handed to the gunner, and are never
delivered to any one else. As was customary, the _Chesapeake's_
broadside guns were loaded and shotted, for a ship generally sailed
with them in this state of preparation; but they were not primed, and
but thirteen powder horns had been made ready, and they were locked
safe in the magazine. Around the foremast and in the cable tiers were
plenty of wads and sponges, and ready on deck, before each gun, was a
box of canister. But there were no matches prepared for service.
The peaceful work went on. The crew continued touching up the paint
work, and in the sunlight the brass shone brightly. From the galley
came the clatter of dishes, and from below came the sound of a
sea-song, chanted by one of the men off watch.
Barron called Captain Gordon to him on the quarter-deck. "Captain,"
said he, "I think that fellow yonder hailed us a moment since; I could
not make out what he said however. Perhaps we had better send the men
to their stations quietly."
"Very good, sir," returned the Captain, and he strolled forward
leisurely, for he, like Barron, suspected no surprise.
Allen had left the quarter-deck and had stepped forward to speak to Mr.
Brooks, the sailing-master. They stopped at the entrance to the galley,
which was in a caboose or deckhouse. Suddenly Lieutenant Smith looked
out across the water at the _Leopard_, that was swinging lazily
along at about the distance of a pistol shot.
Surely he could not be mistaken. The muzzle of one of the forward guns
was slewing around to bear upon the ship. Probably they were just
exercising; but there! another followed suit, and then three more, as
if moved by one command. His face blanched. What could it mean? But one
thing! He whirled and saw that Barron had gone below to his cabin.
Rushing to the ladies, he grasped them by the arms and having hardly
time to make explanations, he hurried them to the companionway.
"Below as far as you can go! Down to the hold!" he cried. "Don't stop;
don't talk!"
As he spoke he could scarce believe his eyes. A burst of white smoke,
with a vivid red dash of flame from the centre, broke from the forward
gun on the _Leopard's_ main deck. There was a crash just abaft the
break of the forecastle. A great splinter fully six feet long whirled
across the deck. The shock was felt throughout the ship. A man who had
been painting the bulwarks fell to his knees, arose, and fell again.
His shoulder and one arm were almost torn away; his blood mingled with
the paint from the overturned pot. He shrieked out in fright and agony.
"Beat to quarters!" roared Lieutenant Smith.
Up from below the men came tumbling. Barron ran from his cabin, with
his face as white as death. "To quarters!" he roared, echoing the
Lieutenant's order.
Everything was confusion. The men gathered at the useless guns. The
belated drummer began to sound the roll. Hither and thither rushed
officers and midshipmen. The green hands stood gawking about; some
overcome by fear and the suddenness of danger, plunged down the
companionway. Where were the matches? Where were the priming horns?
Barron turned to go to his cabin for the keys to the magazine. They
were locked in the drawer of his heavy desk, and now there came another
shot. It struck fair in the bulwarks, and the hammocks and their
contents were thrown out of the nettings. Three men were wounded by the
shower of splinters. And not a shot was fired yet in return.
"Matches! give us the matches!" roared some of the men at the guns, as
they tried to bring their harmless weapons to bear upon the Englishman.
A deadly broadside struck the helpless _Chesapeake_. Blocks and spars
fell from aloft. Suddenly from the entrance of the deckhouse ran a
hatless figure. Men made way for him. It was Lieutenant Allen! His jaws
were set and his eyes were glaring. Tossing between his hands, as a
juggler keeps a ball in the air, was a red hot, flaming coal.
"Here, sir!" cried one of the gunner's mates. "This one's primed, sir.
For God's sake, here, sir!"
Just as Allen reached forward, a shot from the _Leopard_ struck the
opening of the port. The man who had spoken was hit full in the breast.
Five of the eight surrounding the piece fell to the deck, wounded by
the murderous splinters. But Allen dropped his flaming coal upon the
breech of the gun, and pushed into place with his scorched and
blackened fingers.
It was the lone reply to the Englishman's dastardly gun practice! For
fifteen minutes the _Leopard_ fired steadily by divisions.
Covered with blood that had been dashed over him from the body of the
man the round shot had killed, Allen ran aft. The ship was full of
groans and shrieks and cursing. Forth from the cabin came Barron. He
looked an aged, heart-broken man. When he saw the young Lieutenant, he
stepped back a pace in horror. The scene of carnage on the deck
unnerved him.
"The keys! the keys!" shrieked Allen, almost springing at his
commander's throat. "Let us fight, if we must die!"
The thought that flashed through Barron's mind must have been the
uselessness of resistance, the terrible death and destruction, and the
inevitable loss that would be sure to follow. Almost resting himself
upon the group of officers, he raised both hands above his head, the
palms open and outstretched.
"Haul down the flag!" he ordered faintly.
A sailor, standing near by, caught the words and springing to the
halliards, down it came, tangling almost into a knot, as if to hide its
folds. The _Leopard_ ceased her murderous work; but the confusion was
great on board the _Chesapeake_. Men wept like babies. Wounded men were
being carried below. Curses and imprecations on the English flag and on
the distant ship rent the air. Many openly cursed their own commander.
"Tell him to come here, and look at this!" cried an old sailor,
pointing to one dead body on the deck. "Then will he lower the flag?
Give us a chance, for God's sake, to fight like men!"
Barron had hurried into the cabin.
"Send for the officers of the ship." They were all there to a man,
except the surgeon, who was busy down below. "Your opinions,
gentlemen," he faltered. There was not a sound. Captain Gordon was
silent. Tears were rolling down the First Lieutenant's cheeks. He tried
to speak, and could not.
"Sir, you have disgraced us!"
It was Allen speaking. To save his life he could not have helped
blurting out what he felt to be the truth. Barron spread out his arms
weakly, then dropped his head into his hands. It was then presumed that
he was wounded also, for blood was running down his wrists. They left
him there.
What use the rest of the story? The search was made, four men were
taken. All claimed to be Americans; they were prepared to prove it.
Captain Humphreys refused to accept the surrender of the vessel.
Barron, hitherto known as brave and capable, was dishonored and
relieved from all command, was sentenced to five years retirement
without pay. Oh yes, the British Admiral was sentenced also. Of course
the Board of Admiralty could not recognize such doings. They even made
apologies and all the rest of it, and returned two of the men, all
there were left, for one was hanged and another died. They sentenced
their Vice-Admiral with a smile of covert approval, and they promoted
him shortly afterwards.
The unfortunate officers who had been innocent parties to the surrender
felt keenly their position. They could not go through explanations to
every one. They became morbidly sensitive upon the subject. No less
then seven duels grew out of the affair, and Allen, who had fired the
gun, wrote to his father thus: "If I am acquitted honorably, if Captain
Barron is condemned, you may see me again. If not, never."--Poor Allen!
No disgrace shall ever be attached to his name. He died of wounds
received while bravely fighting on the deck of his own little vessel,
the _Argus_, some years later, and he was buried in foreign soil by a
guard of honor of his enemies, who appreciated his bravery and worth.
As for the _Chesapeake_, her bad name clung to her. And of her end,
there is much more to tell that will be told. But "Remember the
_Chesapeake_" became a watchword. This was the beginning, that was the
beginning of the end.
REUBEN JAMES, ABLE SEAMAN
This is a story that has oft been told before. But in history, if a man
becomes famous by one act, and be that act something worth recording,
it will stand being told about again. So if this be an old yarn, this
is the only apology for the spinning, and here goes for it:--
Reuben James may be well remembered by men who are yet living, for he
died but some fifty years ago. He was born in the state of Delaware, of
the good old "poor but honest" stock. Sailor boy and man was Reuben,
with a vocabulary limited to the names of things on shipboard and the
verbs to pull and haul. He went to sea at the age of thirteen years,
and in 1797, when only a lad of sixteen, although he had already made
three or four cruises of some length, he was captured by a French
privateer during the quasi-war between this country and the citizen
Republic of France. Upon his liberation, Reuben made up his mind to
serve no longer in the merchant service, but to ship as soon as
possible in the best frigate that flew our flag; and as his
imprisonment lasted but some five or six months, he soon found
opportunity for revenge. Upon returning to the States he was fortunate
enough to find the old _Constellation_ in port picking up her crew.
This was in the year 1799, and the old ship was then in command of the
intrepid Commodore Truxtun, and he was her commander when she gave such
a drubbing to the French frigates _Insurgente_ and _Vengeance_, which
taught the citizens a lesson, and brought to an end, as much as any
other thing, the ridiculous situation of two nations not actually at
war fighting one another at sea whenever they met. In these actions
young James distinguished himself. He was by nature fearless to the
verge of recklessness, and he was probably in trouble, on account of
his devil-may-care propensities, more than once. In 1804, he sailed in
the frigate _United States_ to the Mediterranean, and when young
Stephen Decatur sailed into the harbor and successfully destroyed the
captured frigate _Philadelphia_, which the Tripolitans had anchored
beneath their batteries, Reuben James was one of the first to
volunteer. He returned from the successful accomplishment of the
design, impressed with the young leader's courage and magnetism, and as
often is the case between a beloved officer and the man who serves
under him, there grew up in the young sailor's heart--he and Decatur
were about the same age--a wild desire to do something to prove his
devotion. The affection of brave men for one another leads to deeds of
noble self-sacrifice, and Reuben James's chance was to come. Every time
that he was assigned to boat duty in the many skirmishes and little
actions, before the harbor of Tripoli, Reuben succeeded in going in
Decatur's boat, and one day to his delight he was promoted to be
cockswain, which must have proved that Decatur's keen eye had noticed
him.
On the 3d of August, 1804, early in the morning, the orders were sent
throughout Commodore Preble's fleet to prepare for a general attack to
take place as soon as it was broad daylight. The American force
consisted of the _Constitution_ and a number of gunboats of the same
style and size as those composing the Tripolitan forces. Everything was
ready on time, but the lack of wind prevented the action from taking
place until late in the afternoon, when the _Constitution_, preceded by
three of the American gunboats, entered the harbor. There were nine of
the Bey's crack vessels, composing the eastern wing, waiting not far
from shore. The three Yankee gunboats bore down upon them without
hesitation, in gallant style. In slap-bang fashion, they sailed right
into the Tripolitans and captured, cutlass in hand, the three leading
ones. The other six fled and came plashing up the harbor, working their
heavy sweeps for all they were worth.
A few minutes after their retreat, one of the other vessels that, to
all appearances, had surrendered, broke away and started up the harbor,
scrambling along as fast as she could go. Decatur in his small boat was
not far away. There was a mist of battle smoke hanging over the water,
and for an instant he did not notice what was going on; but when he did
hear what had happened, all the fierce daring in his nature was
aroused, and mingled with the anger and desire for revenge, it
completely swept him away. He was told that the Tripolitan commander,
who had just made his escape, had treacherously risen upon the prize
crew sent on board of him, after he had struck his flag, and with his
own hands had killed Decatur's beloved brother James. When this news
reached him, Decatur did not falter.
"After him!" he cried to his crew. "Put me alongside of him!"
"We'll put you there, sir," said Reuben James, who was at the tiller.
And out of the smoke into the plain view of the guns of the battery and
also of the American captives, who had viewed the whole affair from the
window of their prison, the little boat started in the wake of the
felucca, whose force of men outnumbered hers by three to one. They
gained at every jump, and in a few minutes they had run their little
boat alongside, thrown down their oars, and to a man had scrambled on
board the Tripolitan. Decatur had set his eye upon a red-turbaned
figure that he knew to be the leader. This man had killed his brother!
Almost before the bowman had laid hold of the enemy's gunwale, he had
made a flying leap off it and gained the deck. Ignoring every risk,
scarcely pausing to ward off the many blows that were aimed at him, he
made straight for the man in the red turban. The pirate was armed with
a long spear and one of those deadly curved scimitars, sharp as steel
can stand it, capable of lopping off a limb at a single stroke; drawing
back he aimed a full-length thrust as soon as Decatur confronted him,
for he must have read his fate in the determined look on the latter's
face. Decatur dodged skilfully and tried to come to closer quarters;
but the Tripolitan by great agility succeeded in keeping out of the
way, and once more he lunged. This time as Decatur parried his
sword-blade broke off at the hilt; dropping it, he laid hold of his
enemy's spear, and in the wrestle for its possession, he succeeded in
tripping up the Turk, and both fell upon the deck. The red-turbaned
one, freeing one hand, drew a dagger from his waist-cloth, and just as
he was about to plunge it into the body of the young American, Decatur
managed to draw a small pistol, and lifting himself on his elbow, blew
off the top of his opponent's head.
Revenge was his. But what about our friend Reuben? The only reason that
Decatur had not been killed in the early part of the struggle by the
many blows that were aimed at him--for the American boarding party
numbered but twelve all told--was the fact that seaman Reuben James was
close behind him, warding off blow after blow. Disdaining to protect
himself, his right arm was rendered useless, so that he had to shift
his cutlass to his left hand. He was slashed seven times about the
body. A cut on the shoulder made him drop his weapon, and just at this
moment he saw that Decatur was lying upon the deck with his foeman over
him. Behind him a sinewy man was aiming a deadly blow directly
downward. Reuben James sprang forward. His right arm was useless and
his left almost so. There was nothing he could interpose between that
deadly blow and his beloved commander but his life! Trying weakly to
push back the Tripolitan, he leaned forward swiftly and caught the blow
from the scimitar on his own head. It fractured his skull, and he fell
insensible to the deck.
But a Yankee sailor is a hard man to kill--in three weeks cockswain
James was at his post again. His recovery was no doubt due to his
wonderful constitution and his youth.
[Illustration: "Reuben James sprang forward."]
As soon as the war with Great Britain was declared, Reuben made all
haste to join his old commander, and he served in the frigate _United
States_ when she captured the _Macedonian_, and afterwards in the
_President_ when she took the _Endymion_. In both actions he got as
near Decatur as he could, and in the last-named conflict he received
three wounds. Although suffering greatly, he refused to leave the deck
until after the _President_ had struck her flag to the squadron that
captured her, whereupon Reuben James was carried below weeping--not
from pain or anguish, but from sheer mortification and grief.
At Decatur's funeral he wept again, honest fellow, and whenever he came
to port he would visit his commander's grave. Reuben was in actual
service until the year 1836, when he arrived in Washington for the
purpose of obtaining a pension. He was suffering very much at this time
from an old musket-shot wound that had caused a disease of the bone of
his leg. It was exceedingly painful and becoming dangerous. After
consultation the doctors ordered amputation, and as he lay in the
hospital the decision was announced to him. With his old indifference
to danger, and his reckless spirit, Reuben replied in the following
words:--
"Doctor, you are the captain, sir. Fire away; but I don't think it is
shipshape to put me under jury masts when I have just come into
harbor."
The day after the operation Reuben was very low, and it was thought
that he had but a few hours to live. The old sailor himself declared
that he had reached the bitter end of his rope, appeared resigned to
his fate, and begged the surgeon to "ease him off handsomely while he
was about it."
"Reuben," said the doctor, "we have concluded that we will give you a
good drink and allow you to name it. What will you have, brown stout or
brandy toddy?"
"I s'pose I won't take another for a long time, sir," Reuben responded,
with a twinkle in his eye. "So just s'pose you give us both; which one
first it doesn't much matter."
He prided himself that he had been in ten fights and as many
"skrimedges," and as he was a favorite character, he was allowed to
celebrate each in turn as they came around, so his happy days were
many. There was one subject to which, however, no one could ever
refer--Decatur's sad and untimely end. Always in his heart Reuben bore
a deep and lasting love, and an ever-living admiration for the man
whose life he had saved; and those friends of the young Commodore
always treated the old sailor with the greatest of deference. Had
Decatur lived, it is safe to state that wherever he went Reuben would
have gone also, and if the latter had not walked bare-headed and
weeping at his officer's funeral; and had it been the other way about,
with Reuben being put to earth, Decatur would have been there, if
possible, hat in hand, to shed a tear of sorrow.
THE MEN BEHIND THE TIMES
Out of the north they came in their grimy, bluff-bowed ships--the men
behind the times! Three years away from home; three years outside the
movement of human government, of family life, ignorant of the news of
the world.
The years 1811 and 1812 were remarkable ones in the annals of the
whaling industry; vessels that had been cruising for months unrewarded
managed to fill their holds, and now, deep laden, they were returning
from the whaling grounds, singly or often in companies of a half-score
or more. They were ugly vessels, broad and clumsy, with heavy spars and
great wooden davits. They stenched of blubber and whale oil, and they
oozed in the warm sun as they labored southward, out of the realms of
ice and night into the rolling waters of the Pacific. They buffeted the
tempestuous weather of the Horn and climbed slowly northward along the
coasts of the Western hemisphere.
Sailing together homeward bound for New England in the fall of the year
was a fleet of these Arctic whalers--no matter their exact number or
their destinations. For the beginning, let it suffice that the vessel
farthest to the west was the good ship _Blazing Star_ of New Bedford.
Captain Ezra Steele, her skipper, had made a mental calculation, and he
knew exactly the profits that would accrue to him from the sale of the
barrels of sperm oil that now filled the deep hold of his ship. It was
his custom in fine weather to count these barrels and to go over all
these calculations again and again. He was a part owner of the _Blazing
Star_, and he had made up his mind exactly what he was going to do with
the proceeds of this cruise. He knew that just about this time of the
year, his wife and many other wives, and some who hoped to be, would be
watching for the sight of welcome sails. The Captain wondered if his
daughter Jennie would accept young Amos Jordan's offer of marriage. He
and Amos had talked it over. Amos was his first mate now, and the
Captain had been thinking of staying at home and sending the young man
out in command of the _Blazing Star's_ next cruise; but perhaps Jennie,
who had a will of her own, had married; or who knows what might have
occurred? It is now late October of the year 1812, and a great deal can
happen in three years, be it recorded.
Captain Ezra had all the sail that she could carry crowded on the
stiff, stubby yards of his vessel. He was anxious to get home again,
but the wind had been baffling for some days, hauling about first one
way, then another. Now, however, they were getting well to the north,
and the continued mildness of the air showed that probably they had
entered the waters of the Gulf Stream. The Captain was dressed in a
long-tailed coat and yellow cloth breeches thrust into heavy cowhide
boots that had become almost pulpy from constant soaking in the sperm
oil. He noiselessly paced the deck, now and then looking over the side
to see how she was going.
The old _Blazing Star_ creaked ahead with about the same motion and
general noise of it that an oxcart makes when swaying down a hill. From
the quarter-deck eight or ten other vessels, every one lumbering along
under a press of stained and much-patched canvas, could be seen, and a
few were almost within hailing distance. All were deep laden; every one
had been successful.
"Waal," said the Captain to himself, "if this wind holds as 'tis, we'll
make Bedford light together in about three weeks."
The nearest vessel to the _Blazing Star_ was the old _Elijah Mason_.
She had made so many last voyages, and had been condemned so many
times, and then tinkered up and sent out again, that it always was a
matter of surprise to the worthy gentlemen who owned her when she came
halting along with her younger sisters at the end of a successful
cruise. Her present captain, Samuel Tobin Dewey, who had sailed a
letter of marque during the Revolution, was a bosom friend of Captain
Steele. Many visits had they exchanged, and many a bottle of rare old
Medford rum had they broached together. As Captain Ezra turned the
side, he saw that they were lowering a boat from the _Elijah Mason_,
and that a thick, short figure was clambering down to it. So he stepped
to the skylight, and leaning over, shouted into the cabin.
"Hey, Amos!" he called, "Captain Dewey's comin' over to take dinner
with us. Tell that lazy Portugee to make some puddin' and tell him to
get some bread scouse ready for the crew. We'll keep 'em here for
comp'ny for our lads."
In a few minutes he had welcomed Captain Dewey, who, although almost
old enough to remember when his ship had made her maiden voyage, was
ruddy and stout in his timbers and keen of voice and eye. But by the
time that a man has been three years cooped up in one vessel, his
conversational powers are about at their lowest ebb; every one knows
all of the other's favorite yarns by heart, and so the greeting was
short and the conversation in the cabin of the _Blazing Star_ was
limited. It was with a feeling of relief that the captains heard the
news brought to them by a red-headed, unshaven boy of seventeen, that
there was a strange sail in sight to the northwest. The two skippers
came on deck at once. About four miles away they could make out a
vessel heaving up and down, her sails flapping and idle. For, a common
occurrence at sea, she lay within a streak of calm. Her presence had
probably been kept from being known before by the slight mist that hung
over the sea to the west and north. The long, easy swells were ruffled
by the slight wind that filled the sails of the whaling fleet, and were
dimpled to a darker color. But where the stranger lay there was a
smooth even path of oily calm. Beyond her some miles the wind was
blowing in an opposite direction. She lay between the breezes, not a
breath touching her.
"What d'ye make her out to be, Ezra?" asked Captain Dewey, his fingers
twitching anxiously in his eagerness to take hold of the glass through
which Captain Steele was squinting.
"Man-o'-war, brig," responded the taller man. "Sure's you're born,
sir."
"You're jest right," responded Dewey, after he had taken aim with the
telescope. "I'll bet her captain's mad, seein' us carryin' this breeze,
an' she in the doldrums. We'll pass by her within three mile, I reckon.
She may hang on thar all day long an' never git this slant of wind at
all. Wonder what she's doin aout here, anyhow?"
In about ten minutes Captain Ezra picked up the glass again. "Hello!"
he said. "By Dondy! they've lowered away a boat, an' they are rowin'
off as if to meet us. Wonder what's the row?" A tiny speck could be
seen with the naked eye, making out from the stretch of quiet water.
The crew of the _Blazing Star_ had sighted her also, and at the
prospect of something unusual to break the monotony, had lined the
bulwarks. Suddenly as the boat lifted into the sunlight on the top of a
wave, there came a flash and a glint of some bright metal. In a few
minutes it showed again. Captain Ezra picked up the glass.
"By gum!" he exclaimed; "that boat's chuck full of men all armed. What
in the name of Tophet can it mean?"
"Dunno--I'd keep off a little," suggested Captain Dewey.
The helmsman gave the old creaking wheel a spoke or two in response to
the Captain's order.
"She's baound to meet us anyhow," put in the lanky skipper. "What had
we better dew?"
"Got any arms on board?" inquired Dewey. "Look suspicshus. Think I's
better be gettin' back to my old hooker," he added half to himself.
Amos Jordan, the first mate, was standing close by. "I reckon we've got
some few," he said.
"Git 'em aout," ordered the Captain, laconically; "and, Cap'n Sam, you
stay here with us, won't ye?"
Amos started forward. In a few minutes he had produced four old
muskets, and a half-dozen rusty cutlasses. But there were deadlier
weapons yet on board, of which there were a plenty. Keen-pointed
lances, that had done to death many a great whale; and harpoons, with
slender shanks and heads sharp as razors. And there were strong arms
which knew well how to use them. The Captain went into the cabin and
came back with three great, clumsy pistols. One he slipped under his
long-tailed coat, and the two others he gave to Captain Dewey and Amos
Jordan. There were twenty men in the _Blazing Star's_ own crew. The
visitors from the old whaler added five more, and with the three mates
and the two captains, five more again. In all there were thirty men
prepared to receive the mysterious rowboat, and receive her warmly
should anything be belligerent in her mission.
"I dunno what they want," said Captain Ezra; "but to my mind it don't
look right."
"Jesso, jesso," assented Captain Samuel.