The Navy in Peace. -- Surveying the Dead Sea. -- Suppressing
the Slave Trade. -- The Franklin Relief Expedition. --
Commodore Perry in Japan. -- Signing of the Treaty. --
Trouble in Chinese Waters. -- The Koszta Case. -- The Second
Franklin Relief Expedition. -- Foote at Canton. -- "Blood is
Thicker Than Water".
_PART III._
BLUE JACKETS OF '61.
CHAPTER I.
The Opening of the Conflict. -- The Navies of the
Contestants. -- Dix's Famous Despatch. -- The
River-gunboats.
CHAPTER II.
Fort Sumter Bombarded. -- Attempt of the "Star of the West"
to re-enforce Anderson. -- The Naval Expedition to Fort
Sumter. -- The Rescue of the Frigate "Constitution." --
Burning the Norfolk Navy-Yard.
CHAPTER III.
Difficulties of the Confederates in Getting a Navy. --
Exploit of the "French Lady." -- Naval Skirmishing on the
Potomac. -- The Cruise of the "Sumter"
CHAPTER IV.
The Potomac Flotilla. -- Capture of Alexandria. -- Actions
at Matthias Point. -- Bombardment of the Hatteras Forts.
CHAPTER V.
The "Trent" Affair. -- Operations in Albemarle and Pamlico
Sounds. -- Destruction of the Confederate Fleet.
CHAPTER VI.
Reduction of Newbern. -- Exploits of Lieut. Cushing. --
Destruction of the Ram "Albemarle".
CHAPTER VII.
The Blockade-runners. -- Nassau and Wilmington. -- Work of
the Cruisers.
CHAPTER VIII.
Du Pont's Expedition to Hilton Head and Port Royal. -- The
Fiery Circle.
CHAPTER IX.
The First Ironclad Vessels in History. -- The "Merrimac"
sinks the "Cumberland," and destroys the "Congress." -- Duel
between the "Monitor" and "Merrimac".
CHAPTER X.
The Navy in the Inland Waters. -- The Mississippi Squadron.
-- Sweeping the Tennessee River.
CHAPTER XI.
Famous Confederate Privateers, -- The "Alabama," the
"Shenandoah," the "Nashville".
CHAPTER XII.
Work of the Gulf Squadron. -- The Fight at the Passes of the
Mississippi. -- Destruction of the Schooner "Judah." -- The
Blockade of Galveston, and Capture of the "Harriet Lane".
CHAPTER XIII.
The Capture of New Orleans. -- Farragut's Fleet passes Fort
St. Philip and Fort Jackson.
CHAPTER XIV.
Along the Mississippi. -- Forts Jackson and St. Philip
Surrender. -- The Battle at St. Charles. -- The Ram
"Arkansas." -- Bombardment and Capture of Port Hudson.
CHAPTER XV.
On To Vicksburg. -- Bombardment of the Confederate
Stronghold. -- Porter's Cruise in the Forests.
CHAPTER XVI.
Vicksburg Surrenders, and the Mississippi is opened. --
Naval Events along the Gulf Coast.
CHAPTER XVII.
Operations about Charleston. -- The Bombardment, the Siege,
and the Capture.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Battle of Mobile Bay.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Fall of Fort Fisher. -- The Navy ends its Work.
_PART IV._
BLUE JACKETS IN TIME OF PEACE.
CHAPTER I.
Police Service on the High Seas. -- War Service in Asiatic
Ports. -- Losses by the Perils of the Deep. -- A Brush with
the Pirates. -- Admiral Rodgers at Corea. -- Services in
Arctic Waters. -- The Disaster at Samoa. -- The Attack on
the "Baltimore's" Men at Valparaiso. -- Loss of the
"Kearsarge." -- The Naval Review.
CHAPTER II.
The Naval Militia. -- A Volunteer Service which in Time of
War will be Effective. -- How Boys are trained for the Life
of a Sailor. -- Conditions of Enlistment in the Volunteer
Branch of the Service. -- The Work of the Seagoing Militia
in Summer.
CHAPTER III.
How the Navy has Grown. -- The Cost and Character of Our New
White Ships of War. -- Our Period of Naval Weakness and our
Advance to a Place among the Great Naval Powers. -- The New
Devices of Naval Warfare. -- The Torpedo, the Dynamite Gun,
and the Modern Rifle. -- Armor and its Possibilities.
_PART V._
THE NAVAL WAR WITH SPAIN.
CHAPTER I.
The State of Cuba. -- Pertinacity of the Revolutionists. --
Spain's Sacrifices and Failure. -- Spanish Barbarities. --
The Policy of Reconcentration. -- American Sympathy aroused.
-- The Struggle in Congress. -- The Assassination of the
"Maine." -- Report of the Commission. -- The Onward March to
Battle.
CHAPTER II.
The Opening Days of the War. -- The First Blow struck in the
Pacific. -- Dewey and his Fleet. -- The Battle at Manila. --
An Eye-witness' Story. -- Delay and Doubt in the East. --
Dull Times for the Blue-jackets. -- The Discovery of
Cervera. -- Hobson's Exploit. -- The Outlook.
CHAPTER III.
The Spanish Fleet makes a Dash from the Harbor. -- Its total
Destruction. -- Admiral Cervera a Prisoner. -- Great Spanish
Losses. -- American Fleet Loses but one Man.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME ONE
Spilling Grog on the "Constitution" before going into
Action. _Frontispiece_.
Commodore Esek Hopkins.
Siege of Charleston, S.C., May, 1780.
Captain John Paul Jones quelling the Mob at Whitehaven,
Scotland, Nov., 1777.
The Action between the "Bon Homme Richard" and the
"Serapis," September 23, 1779.
Commodore Barry.
Shortening Sail on the "Lancaster"--The Oldest Cruiser in
Commission.
Commodore Decatur.
Derelict.
Cutting Away the Flag.
Commodore Perry.
Barney Regains his Ship.
Toasting the Wooden Walls of Columbia.
Commodore Macdonough.
Hull Makes a Reconnoissance.
The British Squadron.
Lieut. Allen Fires a Shot.
Commodore Rogers Hails.
Explosion on the "President".
"Hull Her, Boys!"
Loading.
Ready to Board.
Engagement of the Frigates "United States" and "Macedonian,"
Christmas Day, 1812.
Assuming to be British Men-of-War.
Marines Picking Off the Enemy.
In the Cross-Trees.
Perry's Recruits.
Drilling the Raw Recruits.
Commodore Perry at the Battle of Lake Erie.
Perry's Victory--The Battle of Lake Erie, September 10,
1813.
Making Ready to Leave the "Lawrence".
Awaiting the Boarders.
"I am Commodore Rogers".
Beating to Quarters.
The Last Shot of the "Chesapeake".
On Board the "Chesapeake".
The Peruvian Privateer.
The Duel at the Galapagos Islands.
Firing the Howitzer.
VOLUME TWO
Destruction of the "Maine," Havana Harbor, Feb. 15, 1898.
_Frontispiece_
The Fight with the "Boxer".
The Surrender of the "Boxer".
On the Way to Lake Erie.
Hiram Paulding Fires the Guns.
The Captain of the "Reindeer".
The End of the "Reindeer".
Lieut. Richmond Pearson Hobson, who Sank the "Merrimac" in
Santiago Harbor, June 3, 1898.
The Descent of Wareham.
Sharp-Shooters.
The March on Washington.
Planning the Attack.
Response to the Call for Volunteers to Accompany Hobson on
the "Merrimac".
The "President" Tries to Escape.
Battleship "Massachusetts".
Prison Chaplain and Jailer.
The Last Volley of the War.
New U. S. Torpedo-Boat "Talbot".
The "Hartford," Farragut's Flagship.
Departure of a Naval Expedition from Port Royal.
Fort Moultrie.
Anderson's Command Occupying Fort Sumter.
Major Robert Anderson.
The "Morris"--Torpedo-Boat of the Smallest Type--46-1/2 Tons
Displacement, 800 Horse-Power.
Blockading the Mouth of the Mississippi.
Flag of the Confederacy.
Naval Patrol on the Potomac.
Attack on the Hatteras Forts.
Spanish Merchant Steamer "Catalina" Captured by the Cruiser
"Detroit," April 24, 1898.
Flag of South Carolina.
Nassau: The Haunt of Blockade-Runners.
Cotton Ships at Nassau.
Marines Saluting on the "Lancaster"--Our Oldest Naval Vessel
in Active Service.
Fortress Monroe.
Du Pont's Expedition Off Cape Hatteras.
The Opening Gun.
Engagement of the "Monitor" and "Merrimac," March 9, 1862.
A River Gunboat.
Engagement of the "Kearsarge" and "Alabama," June 19, 1864.
Rescue of Capt. Semmes.
The "Nashville" Burning a Prize.
Fort Pensacola.
Levee at New Orleans Before the War.
Farragut's Fleet Engaging the Enemy near New Orleans, April
26, 1862.
Breaking the Chain.
Farragut Engaging the Port Hudson (La.) Batteries, March,
1863.
The "Arkansas" under Fire.
Farragut's Fleet Engaging Forts Jackson and St. Philip and
Confederate Fleet on the Mississippi River, below New
Orleans, April 25, 1862.
The Launching of the Battleship "Iowa".
Passing the Vicksburg Batteries.
Bailey's Dam on the Red River.
Engagement Between the U. S. Flagship "Hartford" and the
Confederate Ironclad "Tennessee," Mobile Bay, August 5,
1864.
Warships off Charleston Harbor.
Battle of Mobile Bay--Union Fleet Engaging Fort Morgan and
Confederate Vessels, August 5, 1864.
Forward Turret of Monitor "Terror".
Torpedo-Boat "Cushing".
Dynamite Cruiser "Vesuvius".
Ensign Worth Bagley, of the Torpedo-Boat "Winslow," Killed
May 11, 1898.
Partial View of the Wreck of the "Maine".
Dewey's Victory--The Naval Fight in Manila Bay, May 1, 1898.
The Defeat of Cervera's Fleet--The "Colon" Running Ashore.
The Naval Board of Strategy, 1898.
Rear-Admiral William Thomas Sampson.
Bombardment of San Juan, Puerto Rico, May 13, 1898.
Rear-Admiral George Dewey.
Admiral Sampson's Fleet off Puerto Rico, in Search of
Cervera's Vessels, May 1, 1898.
Admiral Cervera's Fleet Approaching Santiago, May, 1898.
Commodore John Crittenden Watson.
General Miles's Expedition to Puerto Rico, as seen from the
Deck of the "St. Paul".
Hobson Sinking the "Merrimac" in the Entrance to Santiago
Harbor, June 3, 1898.
Rear-Admiral Winfield Scott Schley.
Monitors at League Island Navy Yard, Philadelphia.
Training Ship "Alliance"--Type of the Last Wooden
Sloops-of-War.
Training Ships "Portsmouth" and "Lancaster" at Brooklyn Navy
Yard.
"Racing Home"--The Battleship "Oregon" on her way from San
Francisco to Key West.
Hammock-Inspection on a Battleship.
Armored Cruiser "New York" on her way to Puerto Rico.
New York's Welcome to the Battleship "Texas".
Spanish Merchant Steamer "Panama," Captured April 25, by
Lighthouse Tender "Mangrove".
Forward 13-inch Guns on Battleship "Indiana".
Forward Deck of Dynamite Gun-Vessel "Vesuvius".
Hospital Ship "Relief".
Religious Service on Battleship "Iowa," off Havana.
The Battleship "Maine" Leaving New York for Havana.
Bombardment of Matanzas, Cuba, by the "New York,"
"Cincinnati," and "Puritan," April 27, 1898.
Ironclads in Action.
Bombardment of Forts at Entrance of Santiago Harbor, Cuba,
May 6, 1898.
Torpedo-Boat "Ericsson".
Deck-Tube and Projectile of a Torpedo-Boat.
Crew of the "Indiana" Watching the "New York" Capture a
Prize.
Hurry-Work at Night on Monitor "Puritan" at League Island
Navy Yard, Philadelphia.
PART I
BLUE-JACKETS OF '76.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY EXPLOITS UPON THE WATER. -- GALLOP'S BATTLE WITH THE
INDIANS. -- BUCCANEERS AND PIRATES. -- MORGAN AND
BLACKBEARD. -- CAPT. KIDD TURNS PIRATE. -- DOWNFALL OF THE
BUCCANEERS' POWER.
In May, 1636, a stanch little sloop of some twenty tons was standing
along Long Island Sound on a trading expedition. At her helm stood
John Gallop, a sturdy colonist, and a skilful seaman, who earned his
bread by trading with the Indians that at that time thronged the
shores of the Sound, and eagerly seized any opportunity to traffic
with the white men from the colonies of Plymouth or New Amsterdam. The
colonists sent out beads, knives, bright clothes, and sometimes,
unfortunately, rum and other strong drinks. The Indians in exchange
offered skins and peltries of all kinds; and, as their simple natures
had not been schooled to nice calculations of values, the traffic was
one of great profit to the more shrewd whites. But the trade was not
without its perils. Though the Indians were simple, and little likely
to drive hard bargains, yet they were savages, and little accustomed
to nice distinctions between their own property and that of others.
Their desires once aroused for some gaudy bit of cloth or shining
glass, they were ready enough to steal it, often making their booty
secure by the murder of the luckless trader. It so happened, that,
just before John Gallop set out with his sloop on the spring trading
cruise, the people of the colony were excitedly discussing the
probable fate of one Oldham, who some weeks before had set out on a
like errand, in a pinnace, with a crew of two white boys and two
Indians, and had never returned. So when, on this May morning, Gallop,
being forced to hug the shore by stormy weather, saw a small vessel
lying at anchor in a cove, he immediately ran down nearer, to
investigate. The crew of the sloop numbered two men and two boys,
beside the skipper, Gallop. Some heavy duck-guns on board were no mean
ordnance; and the New Englander determined to probe the mystery of
Oldham's disappearance, though it might require some fighting. As the
sloop bore down upon the anchored pinnace, Gallop found no lack of
signs to arouse his suspicion. The rigging of the strange craft was
loose, and seemed to have been cut. No lookout was visible, and she
seemed to have been deserted; but a nearer view showed, lying on the
deck of the pinnace, fourteen stalwart Indians, one of whom, catching
sight of the approaching sloop, cut the anchor cable, and called to
his companions to awake.
This action on the part of the Indians left Gallop no doubt as to
their character. Evidently they had captured the pinnace, and had
either murdered Oldham, or even then had him a prisoner in their
midst. The daring sailor wasted no time in debate as to the proper
course to pursue, but clapping all sail on his craft, soon brought her
alongside the pinnace. As the sloop came up, the Indians opened the
fight with fire-arms and spears; but Gallop's crew responded with
their duck-guns with such vigor that the Indians deserted the decks,
and fled below for shelter. Gallop was then in a quandary. The odds
against him were too great for him to dare to board, and the pinnace
was rapidly drifting ashore. After some deliberation he put up his
helm, and beat to windward of the pinnace; then, coming about, came
scudding down upon her before the wind. The two vessels met with a
tremendous shock. The bow of the sloop struck the pinnace fairly
amidships, forcing her over on her beam-ends, until the water poured
into the open hatchway. The affrighted Indians, unused to warfare on
the water, rushed upon deck. Six leaped into the sea, and were
drowned; the rest retreated again into the cabin. Gallop then prepared
to repeat his ramming manoeuvre. This time, to make the blow more
effective, he lashed his anchor to the bow, so that the sharp flukes
protruded; thus extemporizing an iron-clad ram more than two hundred
years before naval men thought of using one. Thus provided, the second
blow of the sloop was more terrible than the first. The sharp fluke of
the anchor crashed through the side of the pinnace, and the two
vessels hung tightly together. Gallop then began to double-load his
duck-guns, and fire through the sides of the pinnace; but, finding
that the enemy was not to be dislodged in this way, he broke his
vessel loose, and again made for the windward, preparatory to a third
blow. As the sloop drew off, four or five more Indians rushed from the
cabin of the pinnace, and leaped overboard but shared the fate of
their predecessors, being far from land. Gallop then came about, and
for the third time bore down upon his adversary. As he drew near, an
Indian appeared on the deck of the pinnace, and with humble gestures
offered to submit. Gallop ran alongside, and taking the man on board,
bound him hand and foot, and placed him in the hold. A second redskin
then begged for quarter; but Gallop, fearing to allow the two wily
savages to be together, cast the second into the sea, where he was
drowned. Gallop then boarded the pinnace. Two Indians were left, who
retreated into a small compartment of the hold, and were left
unmolested. In the cabin was found the mangled body of Mr. Oldham. A
tomahawk had been sunk deep into his skull, and his body was covered
with wounds. The floor of the cabin was littered with portions of the
cargo, which the murderous savages had plundered. Taking all that
remained of value upon his own craft, Gallop cut loose the pinnace;
and she drifted away, to go to pieces on a reef in Narragansett Bay.
This combat is the earliest action upon American waters of which we
have any trustworthy records. The only naval event antedating this was
the expedition from Virginia, under Capt. Samuel Argal, against the
little French settlement of San Sauveur. Indeed, had it not been for
the pirates and the neighboring French settlements, there would be
little in the early history of the American Colonies to attract the
lover of naval history. But about 1645 the buccaneers began to commit
depredations on the high seas, and it became necessary for the
Colonies to take steps for the protection of their commerce. In this
year an eighteen-gun ship from Cambridge, Mass., fell in with a
Barbary pirate of twenty guns, and was hard put to it to escape. And,
as the seventeenth century drew near its close, these pests of the sea
so increased, that evil was sure to befall the peaceful merchantman
that put to sea without due preparation for a fight or two with the
sea robbers.
It was in the low-lying islands of the Gulf of Mexico, that these
predatory gentry--buccaneers, marooners, or pirates--made their
headquarters, and lay in wait for the richly freighted merchantmen in
the West India trade. Men of all nationalities sailed under the "Jolly
Roger,"--as the dread black flag with skull and cross-bones was
called,--but chiefly were they French and Spaniards. The continual
wars that in that turbulent time racked Europe gave to the marauders
of the sea a specious excuse for their occupation. Thus, many a
Spanish schooner, manned by a swarthy crew bent on plunder, commenced
her career on the Spanish Main, with the intention of taking only
ships belonging to France and England; but let a richly laden Spanish
galleon appear, after a long season of ill-fortune, and all scruples
were thrown aside, the "Jolly Roger" sent merrily to the fore, and
another pirate was added to the list of those that made the highways
of the sea as dangerous to travel as the footpad infested common of
Hounslow Heath. English ships went out to hunt down the treacherous
Spaniards, and stayed to rob and pillage indiscriminately; and not a
few of the names now honored as those of eminent English discoverers,
were once dreaded as being borne by merciless pirates.
But the most powerful of the buccaneers on the Spanish Main were
French, and between them and the Spaniards an unceasing warfare was
waged. There were desperate men on either side, and mighty stories are
told of their deeds of valor. There were Pierre Francois, who, with
six and twenty desperadoes, dashed into the heart of a Spanish fleet,
and captured the admiral's flag-ship; Bartholomew Portuguese, who,
with thirty men, made repeated attacks upon a great Indiaman with a
crew of seventy, and though beaten back time and again, persisted
until the crew surrendered to the twenty buccaneers left alive;
Francois l'Olonoise, who sacked the cities of Maracaibo and
Gibraltar, and who, on hearing that a man-o'-war had been sent to
drive him away, went boldly to meet her, captured her, and slaughtered
all of the crew save one, whom he sent to bear the bloody tidings to
the governor of Havana.
Such were the buccaneers,--desperate, merciless, and insatiate in
their lust for plunder. So numerous did they finally become, that no
merchant dared to send a ship to the West Indies; and the pirates,
finding that they had fairly exterminated their game, were fain to
turn landwards for further booty. It was an Englishman that showed the
sea rovers this new plan of pillage; one Louis Scott, who descended
upon the town of Campeche, and, after stripping the place to the bare
walls, demanded that a heavy tribute be paid him, in default of which
he would burn the town. Loaded with booty, he sailed back to the
buccaneers' haunts in the Tortugas. This expedition was the example
that the buccaneers followed for the next few years. City after city
fell a prey to the demoniac attacks of the lawless rovers. Houses and
churches were sacked, towns given to the flames, rich and poor
plundered alike; murder was rampant; and men and women were subjected
to the most horrid tortures, to extort information as to buried
treasures.
Two great names stand out pre-eminent amid the host of outlaws that
took part in this reign of rapine,--l'Olonoise and Sir Henry Morgan.
The desperate exploits of these two worthies would, if recounted, fill
volumes; and probably no more extraordinary narrative of cruelty,
courage, suffering, and barbaric luxury could be fabricated. Morgan
was a Welshman, an emigrant, who, having worked out as a slave the
cost of his passage across the ocean, took immediate advantage of his
freedom to take up the trade of piracy. For him was no pillaging of
paltry merchant-ships. He demanded grander operations, and his bands
of desperadoes assumed the proportions of armies. Many were the towns
that suffered from the bloody visitations of Morgan and his men.
Puerto del Principe yielded up to them three hundred thousand pieces
of eight, five hundred head of cattle, and many prisoners. Porto Bello
was bravely defended against the barbarians; and the stubbornness of
the defence so enraged Morgan, that he swore that no quarter should be
given the defenders. And so when some hours later the chief fortress
surrendered, the merciless buccaneer locked its garrison in the
guard-room, set a torch to the magazine, and sent castle and garrison
flying into the air. Maracaibo and Gibraltar next fell into the
clutches of the pirate. At the latter town, finding himself caught in
a river with three men-of-war anchored at its mouth, he hastily built
a fire-ship, put some desperate men at the helm, and sent her, a sheet
of flame, into the midst of the squadron. The admiral's ship was
destroyed; and the pirates sailed away, exulting over their
adversaries' discomfiture. Rejoicing over their victories, the
followers of Morgan then planned a venture that should eclipse all
that had gone before. This was no less than a descent upon Panama, the
most powerful of the West Indian cities. For this undertaking, Morgan
gathered around him an army of over two thousand desperadoes of all
nationalities. A little village on the island of Hispaniola was chosen
as the recruiting station; and thither flocked pirates, thieves, and
adventurers from all parts of the world. It was a motley crew thus
gathered together,--Spaniards, swarthy skinned and black haired; wiry
Frenchmen, quick to anger, and ever ready with cutlass or pistol;
Malays and Lascars, half clad in gaudy colors, treacherous and sullen,
with a hand ever on their glittering creeses; Englishmen, handy alike
with fist, bludgeon, or cutlass, and mightily given to fearful oaths;
negroes, Moors, and a few West Indians mixed with the lawless throng.
Having gathered his band, procured provisions (chiefly by plundering),
and built a fleet of boats, Morgan put his forces in motion. The first
obstacle in his path was the Castle of Chagres, which guarded the
mouth of the Chagres River, up which the buccaneers must pass to reach
the city of Panama. To capture this fortress, Morgan sent his
vice-admiral Bradley, with four hundred men. The Spaniards were
evidently warned of their approach; for hardly had the first ship
flying the piratical ensign appeared at the mouth of the river, when
the royal standard of Spain was hoisted above the castle, and the dull
report of a shotted gun told the pirates that there was a stubborn
resistance in store for them.
Landing some miles below the castle, and cutting their way with
hatchet and sabre through the densely interwoven vegetation of a
tropical jungle, the pirates at last reached a spot from which a clear
view of the castle could be obtained. As they emerged from the forest
to the open, the sight greatly disheartened them. They saw a powerful
fort, with bastions, moat, drawbridge, and precipitous natural
defences. Many of the pirates advised a retreat; but Bradley,
dreading the anger of Morgan, ordered an assault. Time after time did
the desperate buccaneers, with horrid yells, rush upon the fort, only
to be beaten back by the well-directed volleys of the garrison. They
charged up to the very walls, threw over fireballs, and hacked the
timbers with axes, but to no avail. From behind their impregnable
ramparts, the Spaniards fired murderous volleys, crying out.--
"Come on, you English devils, you heretics, the enemies of God and of
the king! Let your comrades who are behind come also. We will serve
them as we have served you. You shall not get to Panama this time."
As night fell, the pirates withdrew into the thickets to escape the
fire of their enemies, and to discuss their discomfiture. As one group
of buccaneers lay in the jungle, a chance arrow, shot by an Indian in
the fort, struck one of them in the arm. Springing to his feet with a
cry of rage and pain, the wounded man cried out as he tore the arrow
from the bleeding wound,--
"Look here, my comrades. I will make this accursed arrow the means of
the destruction of all the Spaniards."
So saying, he wrapped a quantity of cotton about the head of the
arrow, charged his gun with powder, and, thrusting the arrow into the
muzzle, fired. His comrades eagerly watched the flight of the missile,
which was easily traced by the flaming cotton. Hurtling through the
air, the fiery missile fell upon a thatched roof within the castle,
and the dry straw and leaves were instantly in a blaze. With cries of
savage joy, the buccaneers ran about picking up the arrows that lay
scattered over the battle-field. Soon the air was full of the
fire-brands, and the woodwork within the castle enclosure was a mass
of flame. One arrow fell within the magazine; and a burst of smoke and
flame, and the dull roar of an explosion, followed. The Spaniards
worked valiantly to extinguish the flames, and to beat back their
assailants; but the fire raged beyond their control, and the bright
light made them easy targets for their foes. There could be but one
issue to such a conflict. By morning the fort was in the hands of the
buccaneers, and of the garrison of three hundred and fourteen only
fourteen were unhurt. Over the ruins of the fort the English flag was
hoisted, the shattered walls were repaired, and the place made a
rendezvous for Morgan's forces.
On the scene of the battle Morgan drilled his forces, and prepared for
the march and battles that were to come. After some days' preparation,
the expedition set out. The road lay through tangled tropical forests,
under a burning sun. Little food was taken, as the invaders expected
to live on the country; but the inhabitants fled before the advancing
column, destroying every thing eatable. Soon starvation stared the
desperadoes in the face. They fed upon berries, roots, and leaves. As
the days passed, and no food was to be found, they sliced up and
devoured coarse leather bags. For a time, it seemed that they would
never escape alive from the jungle; but at last, weak, weary, and
emaciated, they came out upon a grassy plain before the city of
Panama. Here, a few days later, a great battle was fought. The
Spaniards outnumbered the invaders, and were better provided with
munitions of war; yet the pirates, fighting with the bravery of
desperate men, were victorious, and the city fell into their hands.
Then followed days of murder, plunder, and debauchery. Morgan saw his
followers, maddened by liquor, scoff at the idea of discipline and
obedience. Fearing that while his men were helplessly drunk the
Spaniards would rally and cut them to pieces, he set fire to the city,
that the stores of rum might be destroyed. After sacking the town, the
vandals packed their plunder on the backs of mules, and retraced their
steps to the seaboard. Their booty amounted to over two millions of
dollars. Over the division of this enormous sum great dissensions
arose, and Morgan saw the mutinous spirit spreading rapidly among his
men. With a few accomplices, therefore, he loaded a ship with the
plunder, and secretly set sail; leaving over half of his band, without
food or shelter, in a hostile country. Many of the abandoned
buccaneers starved, some were shot or hanged by the enraged Spaniards;
but the leader of the rapacious gang reached Jamaica with a huge
fortune, and was appointed governor of the island, and made a baronet
by the reigning king of England, Charles the Second.
Such were some of the exploits of some of the more notorious of the
buccaneers. It may be readily imagined, that, with hordes of
desperadoes such as these infesting the waters of the West Indies,
there was little opportunity for the American Colonies to build up any
maritime interests in that direction. And as the merchantmen became
scarce on the Spanish Main, such of the buccaneers as did not turn
landward in search of booty put out to sea, and ravaged the ocean
pathways between the Colonies and England. It was against these
pirates, that the earliest naval operations of the Colonies were
directed. Several cruisers were fitted out to rid the seas of these
pests, but we hear little of their success. But the name of one
officer sent against the pirates has become notorious as that of the
worst villain of them all.
It was in January, 1665, that William III., King of England, issued
"to our true and well-beloved Capt. William Kidd, commander of the
ship 'Adventure,'" a commission to proceed against "divers wicked
persons who commit many and great piracies, robberies, and
depredations on the seas." Kidd was a merchant of New York, and had
commanded a privateer during the last war with France. He was a man of
great courage, and, being provided with a stanch ship and brave crew,
set out with high hopes of winning great reputation and much prize
money. But fortune was against him. For months the "Adventure"
ploughed the blue waves of the ocean, yet not a sail appeared on the
horizon. Once, indeed, three ships were seen in the distance. The men
of the "Adventure" were overjoyed at the prospect of a rich prize. The
ship was prepared for action. The men, stripped to the waist, stood at
their quarters, talking of the coming battle. Kidd stood in the
rigging with a spy-glass, eagerly examining the distant vessels. But
only disappointment was in store; for, as the ships drew nearer, Kidd
shut his spy-glass with an oath, saying,--
"They are only three English men-o'-war."
Continued disappointment bred discontent and mutiny among the crew.
They had been enlisted with lavish promises of prize money, but saw
before them nothing but a profitless cruise. The spirit of discontent
spread rapidly. Three or four ships that were sighted proved to be
neither pirates nor French, and were therefore beyond the powers of
capture granted Kidd by the king. Kidd fought against the growing
piratical sentiment for a long time; but temptation at last overcame
him, and he yielded. Near the Straits of Babelmandeb, at the entrance
to the Red Sea, he landed a party, plundered the adjoining country for
provisions, and, turning his ship's prow toward the straits, mustered
his crew on deck, and thus addressed them:--
"We have been unsuccessful hitherto, my boys," he said, "but take
courage. Fortune is now about to smile upon us. The fleet of the
'Great Mogul,' freighted with the richest treasures, is soon to come
out of the Red Sea. From the capture of those heavily laden ships, we
will all grow rich."
The crew, ready enough to become pirates, cheered lustily: and,
turning his back upon all hopes of an honorable career, Kidd set out
in search of the treasure fleet. After cruising for four days, the
"Adventure" fell in with the squadron, which proved to be under convoy
of an English and a Dutch man-of-war. The squadron was a large one,
and the ships greatly scattered. By skilful seamanship, Kidd dashed
down upon an outlying vessel, hoping to capture and plunder it before
the convoying men-of-war could come to its rescue. But his first shot
attracted the attention of the watchful guardians; and, though several
miles away, they packed on all sail, and bore down to the rescue with
such spirit that the disappointed pirate was forced to sheer off. Kidd
was now desperate. He had failed as a reputable privateer, and his
first attempt at piracy had failed. Thenceforward, he cast aside all
scruples, and captured large ships and small, tortured their crews,
and for a time seemed resolved to lead a piratical life. But there are
evidences that at times this strange man relented, and strove to
return to the path of duty and right. On one occasion, a Dutch ship
crossed the path of the "Adventure," and the crew clamorously demanded
her capture. Kidd firmly refused. A tumult arose. The captain drew his
sabre and pistols, and gathering about him those still faithful,
addressed the mutineers, saying,--
"You may take the boats and go. But those who thus leave this ship
will never ascend its sides again."
The mutineers murmured loudly. One man, a gunner, named William Moore,
stepped forward, saying,--
"You are ruining us all. You are keeping us in beggary and starvation.
But for your whims, we might all be prosperous and rich."
At this outspoken mutiny, Kidd flew into a passion. Seizing a heavy
bucket that stood near, he dealt Moore a terrible blow on the head.
The unhappy man fell to the deck with a fractured skull, and the other
mutineers sullenly yielded to the captain's will. Moore died the next
day; and months after, when Kidd, after roving the seas, and robbing
ships of every nationality, was brought to trial at London, it was
for the murder of William Moore that he was condemned to die. For
Kidd's career subsequent to the incident of the Dutch ship was that of
a hardened pirate. He captured and robbed ships, and tortured their
passengers. He went to Madagascar, the rendezvous of the pirates, and
joined in their revelry and debauchery. On the island were five or six
hundred pirates, and ships flying the black flag were continually
arriving or departing. The streets resounded with shouts of revelry,
with curses, and with the cries of rage. Strong drinks were freely
used. Drunkenness was everywhere. It was no uncommon thing for a
hogshead of wine to be opened, and left standing in the streets, that
any might drink who chose. The pirates, flush with their ill-gotten
gains, spent money on gambling and kindred vices lavishly. The women
who accompanied them to this lawless place were decked out with
barbaric splendor in silks and jewels. On the arrival of a ship, the
debauchery was unbounded. Such noted pirates as Blackbeard, Steed
Bonnet, and Avary made the place their rendezvous, and brought thither
their rich prizes and wretched prisoners. Blackbeard was one of the
most desperate pirates of the age. He, with part of his crew, once
terrorized the officials of Charleston, S.C., exacting tribute of
medicines and provisions. Finally he was killed in action, and sixteen
of his desperate gang expiated their crimes on the gallows.
To Madagascar, too, often came the two female pirates, Mary Read and
Anne Bonny. These women, masquerading in men's clothing, were as
desperate and bloody as the men by whose side they fought. By a
strange coincidence, these two women enlisted on the same ship. Each
knowing her own sex, and being ignorant of that of the other, they
fell in love; and the final discovery of their mutual deception
increased their intimacy. After serving with the pirates, working at
the guns, swinging a cutlass in the boarding parties, and fighting a
duel in which she killed her opponent, Mary Read determined to escape.
There is every evidence that she wearied of the evil life she was
leading, and was determined to quit it; but, before she could carry
her intentions into effect, the ship on which she served was captured,
and taken to England, where the pirates expiated their crimes on the
gallows, Mary Read dying in prison before the day set for her
execution.
After some months spent in licentious revelry at Madagascar, Kidd set
out on a further cruise. During this voyage he learned that he had
been proscribed as a pirate, and a price set on his head. Strange as
it may appear, this news was a surprise to him. He seems to have
deceived himself into thinking that his acts of piracy were simply the
legitimate work of a privateersman. For a time he knew not what to do;
but as by this time the coarse pleasures of an outlaw's life were
distasteful to him, he determined to proceed to New York, and endeavor
to prove himself an honest man. This determination proved to be an
unfortunate one for him; for hardly had he arrived, when he was taken
into custody, and sent to England for trial. He made an able defence,
but was found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged; a sentence which was
executed some months later, in the presence of a vast multitude of
people, who applauded in the death of Kidd the end of the reign of
outlaws upon the ocean.
CHAPTER II.
EXPEDITIONS AGAINST NEIGHBORING COLONIES. -- ROMANTIC CAREER
OF SIR WILLIAM PHIPPS. -- QUELLING A MUTINY. -- EXPEDITIONS
AGAINST QUEBEC.
While it was chiefly in expeditions against the buccaneers, or in the
defence of merchantmen against these predatory gentry, that the
American colonists gained their experience in naval warfare, there
were, nevertheless, some few naval expeditions fitted out by the
colonists against the forces of a hostile government. Both to the
north and south lay the territory of France and Spain,--England's
traditional enemies; and so soon as the colonies began to give
evidence of their value to the mother country, so soon were they
dragged into the quarrels in which the haughty mistress of the seas
was ever plunged. Of the southern colonies, South Carolina was
continually embroiled with Spain, owing to the conviction of the
Spanish that the boundaries of Florida--at that time a Spanish
colony--included the greater part of the Carolinas. For the purpose of
enforcing this idea, the Spaniards, in 1706, fitted out an expedition
of four ships-of-war and a galley, which, under the command of a
celebrated French admiral, was despatched to take Charleston. The
people of Charleston were in no whit daunted, and on the receipt of
the news of the expedition began preparations for resistance. They had
no naval vessels; but several large merchantmen, being in port, were
hastily provided with batteries, and a large galley was converted into
a flag-ship. Having no trained naval officers, the command of the
improvised squadron was tendered to a certain Lieut.-Col. Rhett, who
possessed the confidence of the colonists. Rhett accepted the command;
and when the attacking party cast anchor some miles below the city,
and landed their shore forces, he weighed anchor, and set out to
attack them. But the Spaniards avoided the conflict, and fled out to
sea, leaving their land forces to bear the brunt of battle. In this
action, more than half of the invaders were killed or taken prisoners.
Some days later, one of the Spanish vessels, having been separated
from her consorts, was discovered by Rhett, who attacked her, and
after a sharp fight captured her, bringing her with ninety prisoners
to Charleston.
But it was chiefly in expeditions against the French colonies to the
northward that the naval strength of the English colonies was exerted.
Particularly were the colonies of Port Royal, in Acadia, and the
French stronghold of Quebec coveted by the British, and they proved
fertile sources of contention in the opening years of the eighteenth
century. Although the movement for the capture of these colonies was
incited by the ruling authorities of Great Britain, its execution was
left largely to the colonists. One of the earliest of these
expeditions was that which sailed from Nantasket, near Boston, in
April, 1690, bound for the conquest of Port Royal.
This expedition was under the command of Sir William Phipps, a sturdy
colonist, whose life was not devoid of romantic episodes. Though his
ambitions were of the lowliest,--his dearest wish being "to command a
king's ship, and own a fair brick house in the Green Lane of North
Boston,"--he managed to win for himself no small amount of fame and
respect in the colonies. His first achievement was characteristic of
that time, when Spanish galleons, freighted with golden ingots, still
sailed the seas, when pirates buried their booty, and when the
treasures carried down in sunken ships were not brought up the next
day by divers clad in patented submarine armor. From a weather-beaten
old seaman, with whom he became acquainted while pursuing his trade
of ship-carpentering Phipps learned of a sunken wreck lying on the
sandy bottom many fathoms beneath the blue surface of the Gulf of
Mexico. The vessel had gone down fifty years before, and had carried
with her great store of gold and silver, which she was carrying from
the rich mines of Central and South America to the Court of Spain.
Phipps, laboriously toiling with adze and saw in his ship-yard,
listened to the story of the sailor, his blood coursing quicker in his
veins, and his ambition for wealth and position aroused to its fullest
extent. Here, then, thought he, was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Could he but recover the treasures carried down with the sunken ship,
he would have wealth and position in the colony. With these two allies
at his command, the task of securing a command in the king's navy
would be an easy one. But to seek out the sunken treasure required a
ship and seamen. Clearly his own slender means could never meet the
demands of so great an undertaking. Therefore, gathering together all
his small savings, William Phipps set sail for England, in the hopes
of interesting capitalists there in his scheme. By dint of indomitable
persistence, the unknown American ship-carpenter managed to secure the
influence of certain officials of high station in England, and finally
managed to get the assistance of the British admiralty. A frigate,
fully manned, was given him, and he set sail for the West Indies.
Once arrived in the waters of the Spanish Main, he began his search.
Cruising about the spot indicated by his seafaring informant as the
location of the sunken vessel, sounding and dredging occupied the time
of the treasure-seekers for months. The crew, wearying of the
fruitless search, began to murmur, and signs of mutiny were rife.
Phipps, filled with thoughts of the treasure for which he sought, saw
not at all the lowering looks, nor heard the half-uttered threats, of
the crew as he passed them. But finally the mutiny so developed that
he could no longer ignore its existence.
It was then the era of the buccaneers. Doubtless some of the crew had
visited the outlaws' rendezvous at New Providence, and had told their
comrades of the revelry and ease in which the sea robbers spent their
days. And so it happened that one day, as Phipps stood on the
quarter-deck vainly trying to choke down the nameless fear that had
begun to oppress him,--the fear that his life's venture had proved a
failure,--his crew came crowding aft, armed to the teeth, and loudly
demanded that the captain should abandon his foolish search, and lead
them on a fearless buccaneering cruise along the Spanish Main. The
mutiny was one which might well have dismayed the boldest sea captain.
The men were desperate, and well armed. Phipps was almost without
support; for his officers, by their irresolute and timid demeanor,
gave him little assurance of aid.
Standing on the quarter-deck, Phipps listened impatiently to the
complaints of the mutineers; but, when their spokesman called upon him
to lead them upon a piratical cruise, he lost all control of himself,
and, throwing all prudence to the winds, sprung into the midst of the
malcontents, and laid about him right manfully with his bare fists.
The mutineers were all well armed, but seemed loath to use their
weapons; and the captain, a tall, powerful man, soon awed them all
into submission.
Though he showed indomitable energy in overcoming obstacles, Phipps
was not destined to discover the object of his search at this time;
and, after several months' cruising, he was forced, by the leaky
condition of his vessel, to abandon the search. But, before leaving
the waters of the Spanish Main, he obtained enough information to
convince him that his plan was a practicable one, and no mere
visionary scheme. On reaching England, he went at once to some wealthy
noblemen, and, laying before them all the facts in his possession, so
interested them in the project that they readily agreed to supply him
with a fresh outfit. After a few weeks spent in organizing his
expedition, the treasure-seeker was again on the ocean, making his way
toward the Mexican Gulf. This time his search was successful, and a
few days' work with divers and dredges about the sunken ship brought
to light bullion and specie to the amount of more than a million and a
half dollars. As his ill success in the first expedition had embroiled
him with his crew, so his good fortune this time aroused the cupidity
of the sailors. Vague rumors of plotting against his life reached the
ears of Phipps. Examining further into the matter, he learned that the
crew was plotting to seize the vessel, divide the treasure, and set
out upon a buccaneering cruise. Alarmed at this intelligence, Phipps
strove to conciliate the seamen by offering them a share of the
treasure. Each man should receive a portion, he promised, even if he
himself had to pay it. The men agreed to this proposition; and so
well did Phipps keep his word with them on returning to England, that,
of the whole treasure, only about eighty thousand dollars remained to
him as his share. This, however, was an ample fortune for those times;
and with it Phipps returned to Boston, and began to devote himself to
the task of securing a command in the royal navy.
His first opportunity to distinguish himself came in the expedition of
1690 against Port Royal. Throughout the wars between France and
England, the French settlement of Port Royal had been a thorn in the
flesh of Massachusetts. From Port Royal, the trim-built speedy French
privateers put to sea, and seldom returned without bringing in their
wake some captured coaster or luckless fisherman hailing from the
colony of the Puritans. When the depredations of the privateers became
unbearable, Massachusetts bestirred herself, and the doughty Phipps
was sent with an expedition to reduce their unneighborly neighbor to
subjection. Seven vessels and two hundred and eighty-eight men were
put under the command of the lucky treasure-hunter. The expedition was
devoid of exciting or novel features. Port Royal was reached without
disaster, and the governor surrendered with a promptitude which should
have won immunity for the people of the village. But the Massachusetts
sailors had not undertaken the enterprise for glory alone, and they
plundered the town before taking to their ships again.
This expedition, however, was but an unimportant incident in the naval
annals of the colonies. It was followed quickly by an expedition of
much graver importance.
When Phipps returned after capturing and plundering Port Royal, he
found Boston vastly excited over the preparations for an expedition
against Quebec. The colony was in no condition to undertake the work
of conquest. Prolonged Indian wars had greatly depleted its treasury.
Vainly it appealed to England for aid, but, receiving no
encouragement, sturdily determined to undertake the expedition
unaided. Sailors were pressed from the merchant-shipping. Trained
bands, as the militia of that day was called, drilled in the streets,
and on the common. Subscription papers were being circulated; and
vessel owners were blandly given the choice between voluntarily
loaning their vessels to the colony, or having them peremptorily
seized. In this way a fleet of thirty-two vessels had been collected;
the largest of which was a ship called the "Six Friends," built for
the West India trade, and carrying forty-four guns. This armada was
manned by seamen picked up by a press so vigorous, that Gloucester,
the chief seafaring town of the colony, was robbed of two-thirds of
its men. Hardly had Capt. Phipps, flushed with victory, returned from
his Port Royal expedition, when he was given command of the armada
destined for the capture of Quebec.
Early in August the flotilla set sail from Boston Harbor. The day was
clear and warm, with a light breeze blowing. From his flag-ship Phipps
gave the signal for weighing anchor, and soon the decks of the vessels
thickly strewn about the harbor resounded to the tread of men about
the capstan. Thirty-two vessels of the squadron floated lightly on the
calm waters of the bay; and darting in and out among them were light
craft carrying pleasure-seekers who had come down to witness the
sailing of the fleet, friends and relatives of the sailors who were
there to say farewell, and the civic dignitaries who came to wish the
expedition success. One by one the vessels beat their way down the
bay, and, rounding the dangerous reef at the mouth of the harbor, laid
their course to the northward. It was a motley fleet of vessels. The
"Six Brothers" led the way, followed by brigs, schooners, and many
sloop-rigged fishing-smacks. With so ill-assorted a flotilla, it was
impossible to keep any definite sailing order. The first night
scattered the vessels far and wide, and thenceforward the squadron was
not united until it again came to anchor just above the mouth of the
St. Lawrence. It seemed as though the very elements had combined
against the voyagers. Though looking for summer weather, they
encountered the bitter gales of November. Only after they had all
safely entered the St. Lawrence, and were beyond injury from the
storms, did the gales cease. They had suffered all the injury that
tempestuous weather could do them, and they then had to chafe under
the enforced restraints of a calm.
Phipps had rallied his scattered fleet, and had proceeded up the great
river of the North to within three days' sail of Quebec, when the calm
overtook him. On the way up the river he had captured two French
luggers, and learned from his prisoners that Quebec was poorly
fortified, that the cannon on the redoubts were dismounted, and that
hardly two hundred men could be rallied to its defence. Highly elated
at this, the Massachusetts admiral pressed forward. He anticipated
that Quebec, like Port Royal, would surrender without striking a
blow. Visions of high honors, and perhaps even a commission in the
royal navy, floated across his brain. And while thus hurrying forward
his fleet, drilling his men, and building his air-castles, his further
progress was stopped by a dead calm which lasted three weeks.
How fatal to his hopes that calm was, Phipps, perhaps, never knew. The
information he had wrung from his French prisoners was absolutely
correct. Quebec at that time was helpless, and virtually at his mercy.
But, while the Massachusetts armada lay idly floating on the unruffled
bosom of the river, a man was hastening towards Quebec whose timely
arrival meant the salvation of the French citadel.
This man was Frontenac, then governor of the French colony, and one of
the most picturesque figures in American history. A soldier of France;
a polished courtier at the royal court; a hero on the battle-field,
and a favorite in the ball-room; a man poor in pocket, but rich in
influential connections,--Frontenac had come to the New World to seek
that fortune and position which he had in vain sought in the Old. When
the vague rumors of the hostile expedition of the Massachusetts colony
reached his ears, Frontenac was far from Quebec, toiling in the
western part of the colony. Wasting no time, he turned his steps
toward the threatened city. His road lay through an almost trackless
wilderness; his progress was impeded by the pelting rains of the
autumnal storms. But through forest and through rain he rode fiercely;
and at last as he burst from the forest, and saw towering before him
the rocks of Cape Diamond, a cry of joy burst from his lips. On the
broad, still bosom of the St Lawrence Bay floated not a single hostile
sail. The soldier had come in time.
With the governor in the city, all took courage, and the work of
preparation for the coming struggle went forward with a rush. Far and
wide throughout the parishes was spread the news of war, and daily
volunteers came flocking in to the defence. The ramparts were
strengthened, and cannon mounted. Volunteers and regulars drilled side
by side, until the four thousand men in the city were converted into a
well-disciplined body of troops. And all the time the sentinels on the
Saut au Matelot were eagerly watching the river for the first sign of
the English invaders.
It was before dawn, on the morning of Oct. 16, that the people of the
little city, and the soldiery in the tents, were awakened by the alarm
raised by the sentries. All rushed to the brink of the heights, and
peered eagerly out into the darkness. Far down the river could be seen
the twinkling lights of vessels. As the eager watchers strove to count
them, other lights appeared upon the scene, moving to and fro, but
with a steady advance upon Quebec. The gray dawn, breaking in the
east, showed the advancing fleet. Frontenac and his lieutenants
watched the ships of the enemy round the jutting headland of the Point
of Orleans; and, by the time the sun had risen, thirty-four hostile
craft were at anchor in the basin of Quebec.
The progress of the fleet up the river, from the point at which it had
been so long delayed, had been slow, and greatly impeded by the
determined hostility of the settlers along the banks. The sailors at
their work were apt to be startled by the whiz of a bullet; and an
inquiry as to the cause would have probably discovered some crouching
sharp-shooter, his long rifle in his hand, hidden in a clump of bushes
along the shore. Bands of armed men followed the fleet up the stream,
keeping pace with the vessels, and occasionally affording gentle
reminders of their presence in the shape of volleys of rifle-balls
that sung through the crowded decks of the transports, and gave the
sailor lads a hearty disgust for this river fighting. Phipps tried
repeatedly to land shore parties to clear the banks of skirmishers,
and to move on the city by land. As often, however, as he made the
effort, his troops were beaten back by the ambushed sharp-shooters,
and his boats returned to the ships, bringing several dead and
wounded.
While the soldiery on the highlands of Quebec were eagerly examining
the hostile fleet, the invaders were looking with wonder and
admiration at the scene of surpassing beauty spread out before them.
Parkman, the historian and lover of the annals of the French in
America, thus describes it:--
"When, after his protracted voyage, Phipps sailed into the basin of
Quebec, one of the grandest scenes on the western continent opened
upon his sight. The wide expanse of waters, the lofty promontory
beyond, and the opposing Heights of Levi, the cataract of Montmorenci,
the distant range of the Laurentian Mountains, the warlike rock with
its diadem of walls and towers, the roofs of the Lower Town
clustering on the strand beneath, the Chateau St. Louis perched at the
brink of the cliff, and over it the white banner, spangled with
_fleurs de lis_, flaunting defiance in the clear autumnal air."
Little time was spent, however, in admiration of the scene. When the
click of the last chain-cable had ceased, and, with their anchors
reposing at the bottom of the stream, the ships swung around with
their bows to the current, a boat put off from the flag-ship bearing
an officer intrusted with a note from Phipps to the commandant of the
fort. The reception of this officer was highly theatrical. Half way to
the shore he was taken into a French canoe, blindfolded, and taken
ashore. The populace crowded about him as he landed, hooting and
jeering him as he was led through winding, narrow ways, up stairways,
and over obstructions, until at last the bandage was torn from his
eyes, and he found himself in the presence of Frontenac. The French
commander was clad in a brilliant uniform, and surrounded by his
staff, gay in warlike finery. With courtly courtesy he asked the envoy
for his letter, which, proving to be a curt summons to surrender, he
answered forthwith in a stinging speech. The envoy, abashed, asked for
a written answer.
"No," thundered Frontenac, "I will answer your master only by the
mouths of my cannon, that he may learn that a man like me is not to be
summoned after this fashion. Let him do his best, and I will do mine."
The envoy returned to his craft, and made his report. The next day
hostilities opened. Wheeling his ships into line before the
fortifications, Phipps opened a heavy fire upon the city. From the
frowning ramparts on the heights, Frontenac's cannon answered in kind.
Fiercely the contest raged until nightfall, and vast was the
consumption of gunpowder; but damage done on either side was but
little. All night the belligerents rested on their arms; but, at
daybreak, the roar of the cannonade recommenced.
The gunners of the opposing forces were now upon their mettle, and the
gunnery was much better than the day before. A shot from the shore cut
the flagstaff of the admiral's ship, and the cross of St. George fell
into the river. Straightway a canoe put out from the shore, and with
swift, strong paddle-strokes was guided in chase of the floating
trophy. The fire of the fleet was quickly concentrated upon the
adventurous canoeists. Cannon-balls and rifle-bullets cut the water
about them; but their frail craft survived the leaden tempest, and
they captured the trophy, and bore it off in triumph.
Phipps felt that the incident was an unfavorable omen, and would
discourage his men. He cast about in his mind for a means of
retaliation. Far over the roofs of the city rose a tapering spire,
that of the cathedral in the Upper Town. On this spire, the devout
Catholics of the French city had hung a picture of the Holy Family as
an invocation of Divine aid. Through his spy-glass, Phipps could see
that some strange object hung from the steeple, and, suspecting its
character, commanded the gunners to try to knock it down. For hours
the Puritans wasted their ammunition in this vain target-practice, but
to no avail. The picture still hung on high; and the devout Frenchmen
ascribed its escape to a miracle, although its destruction would have
been more miraculous still.
It did not take long to convince Phipps that in this contest his fleet
was getting badly worsted, and he soon withdrew his vessels to a place
of safety. The flag-ship had been fairly riddled with shot; and her
rigging was so badly cut, that she could only get out of range of the
enemy's guns by cutting her cables, and drifting away with the
current. Her example was soon followed by the remaining vessels.
Sorely crestfallen, Phipps abandoned the fight, and prepared to return
to Boston. His voyage thither was stormy; and three or four of his
vessels never were heard of, having been dashed to pieces by the
waves, or cast away upon the iron-bound coast of Nova Scotia or Maine.
His expedition was the most costly in lives and in treasure ever
undertaken by a single colony, and, despite its failure, forms the
most notable incident in the naval annals of the colonies prior to the
Revolution.
The French colonies continued to be a fruitful source of war and
turmoil. Many were the joint military and naval expeditions fitted out
against them by the British colonies. Quebec, Louisbourg, and Port
Royal were all threatened; and the two latter were captured by
colonial expeditions. From a naval point of view, these expeditions
were but trifling. They are of some importance, however, in that they
gave the colonists an opportunity to try their prowess on the ocean;
and in this irregular service were bred some sailors who fought right
valiantly for the rebellious colonies against the king, and others who
did no less valiant service under the royal banner.
CHAPTER III.
OPENING OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. -- THE AFFAIR OF THE
SCHOONER "ST. JOHN." -- THE PRESS-GANG AND ITS WORK. -- THE
SLOOP "LIBERTY." -- DESTRUCTION OF THE "GASPEE." -- THE
BOSTON TEA-PARTY.
It is unnecessary to enter into an account of the causes that led up
to the revolt of the American Colonies against the oppression of King
George and his subservient Parliament. The story of the Stamp Act, the
indignation of the Colonies, their futile attempts to convince
Parliament of the injustice of the measure, the stern measures adopted
by the British to put down the rising insubordination, the Boston
Massacre, and the battles at Concord and Lexington are familiar to
every American boy. But not every young American knows that almost the
first act of open resistance to the authority of the king took place
on the water, and was to some extent a naval action.
The revenue laws, enacted by the English Parliament as a means of
extorting money from the Colonies, were very obnoxious to the people
of America. Particularly did the colonists of Rhode Island protest
against them, and seldom lost an opportunity to evade the payment of
the taxes.
Between Providence and Newport, illicit trade flourished; and the
waters of Narragansett Bay were dotted with the sail of small craft
carrying cargoes on which no duties had ever been paid. In order to
stop this nefarious traffic, armed vessels were stationed in the Bay,
with orders to chase and search all craft suspected of smuggling. The
presence of these vessels gave great offence to the colonists, and the
inflexible manner in which the naval officers discharged their duty
caused more than one open defiance of the authority of King George.
The first serious trouble to grow out of the presence of the British
cruisers in the bay was the affair of the schooner "St. John." This
vessel was engaged in patrolling the waters of the bay in search of
smugglers. While so engaged, her commander, Lieut. Hill, learned that
a brig had discharged a suspicious cargo at night near Howland's
Ferry. Running down to that point to investigate, the king's officers
found the cargo to consist of smuggled goods; and, leaving a few men
in charge, the cruiser hastily put out to sea in pursuit of the
smuggler. The swift sailing schooner soon overtook the brig, and the
latter was taken in to Newport as a prize. Although this affair
occurred early in 1764, the sturdy colonists even then had little
liking for the officers of the king. The sailors of the "St. John,"
careless of the evident dislike of the citizens of the town, swaggered
about the streets, boasting of their capture, and making merry at the
expense of the Yankees. Two or three fights between sailors and
townspeople so stirred up the landsmen, that they determined to
destroy the "St. John," and had actually fitted up an armed sloop for
that purpose, when a second man-of-war appeared in the harbor and put
a final stopper to the project. Though thus balked of their revenge,
the townspeople showed their hatred for the king's navy by seizing a
battery, and firing several shots at the two armed vessels, but
without effect.
During the same year, the little town of Newport again gave evidence
of the growth of the revolutionary spirit. This time the good old
British custom of procuring sailors for the king's ships by a system
of kidnapping, commonly known as impressment, was the cause of the
outbreak. For some months the British man-of-war "Maidstone" lay in
the harbor of Newport, idly tugging at her anchors. It was a period of
peace, and her officers had nothing to occupy their attention.
Therefore they devoted themselves to increasing the crew of the vessel
by means of raids upon the taverns along the water-front of the city.
The seafaring men of Newport knew little peace while the "Maidstone"
was in port. The king's service was the dread of every sailor; and,
with the press-gang nightly walking the streets, no sailor could feel
secure. All knew the life led by the sailors on the king's ships.
Those were the days when the cat-o'-nine-tails flourished, and the
command of a beardless bit of a midshipmen was enough to send a poor
fellow to the gratings, to have his back cut to pieces by the
merciless lash. The Yankee sailors had little liking for this phase of
sea-life, and they gave the men-of-war a wide berth.
Often it happened, however, that a party of jolly mariners sitting
over their pipes and grog in the snug parlor of some seashore tavern,
spinning yarns of the service they had seen on the gun-decks of his
Majesty's ships, or of shipwreck and adventure in the merchant
service, would start up and listen in affright, as the measured tramp
of a body of men came up the street. Then came the heavy blow on the
door.
"Open in the king's name," shouts a gruff voice outside; and the
entrapped sailors, overturning the lights, spring for doors and
windows, in vain attempts to escape the fate in store for them. The
press-gang seldom returned to the ship empty handed, and the luckless
tar who once fell into their clutches was wise to accept his capture
good-naturedly; for the bos'n's cat was the remedy commonly prescribed
for sulkiness.
As long as the "Maidstone" lay in the harbor of Newport, raids such as
this were of common occurrence. The people of the city grumbled a
little; but it was the king's will, and none dared oppose it. The
wives and sweethearts of the kidnapped sailors shed many a bitter tear
over the disappearance of their husbands and lovers; but what were the
tears of women to King George? And so the press-gang of the
"Maidstone" might have continued to enjoy unopposed the stirring sport
of hunting men like beasts, had the leaders not committed one
atrocious act of inhumanity that roused the long-suffering people to
resistance.
One breezy afternoon, a stanch brig, under full sail, came up the bay,
and entered the harbor of Newport. Her sides were weather-beaten, and
her dingy sails and patched cordage showed that she had just completed
her long voyage. Her crew, a fine set of bronzed and hardy sailors,
were gathered on her forecastle, eagerly regarding the cluster of
cottages that made up the little town of Newport. In those cottages
were many loved ones, wives, mothers, and sweethearts, whom the brave
fellows had not seen for long and weary months; for the brig was just
returning from a voyage to the western coast of Africa.
It is hard to describe the feelings aroused by the arrival of a ship
in port after a long voyage. From the outmost end of the longest
wharf the relatives and friends of the sailors eagerly watch the
approaching vessel, striving to find in her appearance some token of
the safety of the loved ones on board. If a flag hangs at half-mast in
the rigging, bitter is the suspense, and fearful the dread, of each
anxious waiter, lest her husband or lover or son be the unfortunate
one whose death is mourned. And on the deck of the ship the excitement
is no less great. Even the hardened breast of the sailor swells with
emotion when he first catches sight of his native town, after long
months of absence. With eyes sharpened by constant searching for
objects upon the broad bosom of the ocean, he scans the waiting crowd,
striving to distinguish in the distance some well-beloved face. His
spirits are light with the happy anticipation of a season in port with
his loved ones, and he discharges his last duties before leaving the
ship with a blithe heart.
So it was with the crew of the home-coming brig. Right merrily they
sung out their choruses as they pulled at the ropes, and brought the
vessel to anchor. The rumble of the hawser through the hawseholes was
sweet music to their ears; and so intent were they upon the crowd on
the dock, that they did not notice two long-boats which had put off
from the man-of-war, and were pulling for the brig. The captain of the
merchantman, however, noticed the approach of the boats, and wondered
what it meant. "Those fellows think I've smuggled goods aboard," said
he. "However, they can spend their time searching if they want. I've
nothing in the hold I'm afraid to have seen."
The boats were soon alongside; and two or three officers, with a
handful of jackies, clambered aboard the brig.
"Muster your men aft, captain," said the leader, scorning any response
to the captain's salutation. "The king has need of a few fine fellows
for his service."
"Surely, sir, you are not about to press any of these men," protested
the captain. "They are just returning after a long voyage, and have
not yet seen their families."
"What's that to me, sir?" was the response. "Muster your crew without
more words."
Sullenly the men came aft, and ranged themselves in line before the
boarding-officers. Each feared lest he might be one of those chosen to
fill the ship's roll of the "Maidstone;" yet each cherished the hope
that he might be spared to go ashore, and see the loved ones whose
greeting he had so fondly anticipated.
The boarding-officers looked the crew over, and, after consulting
together, gruffly ordered the men to go below, and pack up their
traps.
"Surely you don't propose to take my entire crew?" said the captain of
the brig in wondering indignation.
"I know my business, sir," was the gruff reply, "and I do not propose
to suffer any more interference."
The crew of the brig soon came on deck, carrying their bags of
clothes, and were ordered into the man-o'-war's boats, which speedily
conveyed them to their floating prison. Their fond visions of home had
been rudely dispelled. They were now enrolled in his Majesty's
service, and subject to the will of a blue-coated tyrant. This was all
their welcome home.
When the news of this cruel outrage reached the shore, the indignation
of the people knew no bounds. The thought of their fellow-townsmen
thus cruelly deprived of their liberty, at the conclusion of a long
and perilous voyage, set the whole village in a turmoil. Wild plots
were concocted for the destruction of the man-of-war, that, sullen and
unyielding, lay at her anchorage in the harbor. But the wrong done was
beyond redress. The captured men were not to be liberated. There was
no ordnance in the little town to compete with the guns of the
"Maidstone," and the enraged citizens could only vent their anger by
impotent threats and curses. Bands of angry men and boys paraded the
streets, crying, "Down with the press-gang," and invoking the
vengeance of Heaven upon the officers of the man-of-war. Finally, they
found a boat belonging to the "Maidstone" lying at a wharf. Dragging
this ashore, the crowd procured ropes, and, after pulling the captured
trophy up and down the streets, took it to the common in front of the
Court-House, where it was burned in the presence of a great crowd,
which heaped execrations upon the heads of the officers of the
"Maidstone," and King George's press-gang.
After this occurrence, there was a long truce between the people of
Newport and the officers of the British navy. But the little town was
intolerant of oppression, and the revolutionary spirit broke out again
in 1769. Historians have eulogized Boston as the cradle of liberty,
and by the British pamphleteers of that era the Massachusetts city
was often called a hot-bed of rebellion. It would appear, however,
that, while the people of Boston were resting contentedly under the
king's rule, the citizens of Newport were chafing under the yoke, and
were quick to resist any attempts at tyranny.
It is noticeable, that, in each outbreak of the people of Newport
against the authority of the king's vessels, the vigor of the
resistance increased, and their acts of retaliation became bolder.
Thus in the affair of the "St. John" the king's vessel was fired on,
while in the affair of the "Maidstone" the royal property was actually
destroyed. In the later affairs with the sloop "Liberty" and the
schooner "Gaspee," the revolt of the colonists was still more open,
and the consequences more serious.
In 1769 the armed sloop "Liberty," Capt. Reid, was stationed in
Narragansett Bay for the purpose of enforcing the revenue laws. Her
errand made her obnoxious to the people on the coast, and the
extraordinary zeal of her captain in discharging his duty made her
doubly detested by seafaring people afloat or shore.
On the 17th of July the "Liberty," while cruising near the mouth of
the bay, sighted a sloop and a brig under full sail, bound out.
Promptly giving chase, the armed vessel soon overtook the merchantmen
sufficiently to send a shot skipping along the crests of the waves, as
a polite Invitation to stop. The two vessels hove to, and a boat was
sent from the man-of-war to examine their papers, and see if all was
right. Though no flaw was found in the papers of either vessel, Capt.
Reid determined to take them back to Newport, which was done. In the
harbor the two vessels were brought to anchor under the guns of the
armed sloop, and without any reason or explanation were kept there
several days. After submitting to this wanton detention for two days,
Capt. Packwood of the brig went on board the "Liberty" to make a
protest to Capt. Reid, and at the same time to get some wearing
apparel taken from his cabin at the time his vessel had been captured.
On reaching the deck of the armed vessel, he found Capt. Reid absent,
and his request for his property was received with ridicule. Hot words
soon led to violence; and as Capt. Packwood stepped in to his boat to
return to his ship, he was fired at several times, none of the shots
taking effect.
[Illustration: Siege of Charleston, S.C., May, 1780.
Copyright, 1874, by Johnson, Wilson & Co.]
The news of this assault spread like wildfire in the little town. The
people congregated on the streets, demanding reparation. The
authorities sent a message to Capt. Reid, demanding that the man who
fired the shots be given up. Soon a boat came from the "Liberty,"
bringing a man who was handed over to the authorities as the culprit.
A brief examination into the case showed that the man was not the
guilty party, and that his surrender was a mere subterfuge. The people
then determined to be trifled with no longer, and made preparations to
take vengeance upon the insolent oppressors.
The work of preparation went on quietly; and by nightfall a large
number of men had agreed to assemble at a given signal, and march upon
the enemy. Neither the authorities of the town nor the officers on the
threatened vessel were given any intimation of the impending outbreak.
Yet the knots of men who stood talking earnestly on the street
corners, or looked significantly at the trim navy vessel lying in the
harbor, might have well given cause for suspicion.
That night, just as the dusk was deepening into dark, a crowd of men
marched down the street to a spot where a number of boats lay hidden
in the shadow of a wharf. Embarking in these silently, they bent to
the oars at the whispered word of command; and the boats were soon
gliding swiftly over the smooth, dark surface of the harbor, toward
the sloop-of-war. As they drew near, the cry of the lookout rang
out,--
"Boat ahoy!"
No answer. The boats, crowded with armed men, still advanced.
"Boat ahoy! Answer, or I'll fire."
And, receiving no response, the lookout gave the alarm, and the watch
came tumbling up, just in time to be driven below or disarmed by the
crowd of armed men that swarmed over the gunwale of the vessel. There
was no bloodshed. The crew of the "Liberty" was fairly surprised, and
made no resistance. The victorious citizens cut the sloop's cables,
and allowed her to float on shore near Long Wharf. Then, feeling sure
that their prey could not escape them, they cut away her masts,
liberated their captives, and taking the sloop's boats, dragged them
through the streets to the common, where they were burned on a
triumphal bonfire, amid the cheers of the populace.
But the exploit was not to end here. With the high tide the next day,
the hulk of the sloop floated away, and drifted ashore again on Goat
Island. When night fell, some adventurous spirits stealthily went
over, and, applying the torch to the stranded ship, burned it to the
water's edge. Thus did the people of Newport resist tyranny.
It may well be imagined that so bold a defiance of the royal authority
caused a great sensation. Prolonged and vigorous were the attempts of
the servants of the king to find out the rebellious parties who had
thus destroyed his Majesty's property. But their efforts were in vain.
The identity of the captors of the "Liberty" was carefully concealed,
and even to this day none of their names has become known. But, before
the people of Newport had done talking about this affair, another
outbreak occurred, which cast the capture and destruction of the
"Liberty" into the shade.
This was the affair of the "Gaspee,"--considered by many historians
the virtual opening of the revolutionary struggle of the Colonies
against Great Britain. The "Gaspee," like the "St. John" and the
"Liberty," was an armed vessel stationed in Narragansett Bay to
enforce the revenue. She was commanded by Lieut. Dudingston of the
British navy, and carried eight guns. By pursuing the usual tactics of
the British officers stationed on the American coast, Duddingston had
made himself hated; and his vessel was marked for destruction. Not a
boat could pass between Providence and Newport without being subjected
to search by the crew of the "Gaspee;" and the Yankee sailors swore
darkly, that, when the time was ripe, they would put an end to the
Britisher's officious meddling.
The propitious time arrived one bright June morning in the year 1772,
when the "Gaspee" gave chase to a Newport packet which was scudding
for Providence, under the command of Capt. Thomas Lindsey. The armed
vessel was a clean-cut little craft, and, carrying no heavier load
than a few light guns of the calibre then in vogue, could overhaul
with ease almost any merchantman on the coast. So on this eventful day
she was rapidly overhauling the chase, when, by a blunder of the
pilot, she was run hard and fast upon a spit of sand running out from
Namquit Point, and thus saw her projected prize sail away in triumph.
But the escape of her prize was not the greatest disaster that was to
befall the "Gaspee" that day. Lindsey, finding himself safe from the
clutches of the enemy, continued his course to Providence, and on
arriving at that city reported the condition of the "Gaspee" to a
prominent citizen, who straightway determined to organize an
expedition for the destruction of the pest of marine traffic. He
therefore gave orders to a trusty ship-master to collect eight of the
largest long-boats in the harbor, and, having muffled their oars and
rowlocks, place them at Fenner's Wharf, near a noted tavern.
That night, soon after sunset, as the tradesmen were shutting up their
shops, and the laboring men were standing on the streets talking after
their day's work, a man passed down the middle of each street, beating
a drum, and crying aloud,--
"The schooner 'Gaspee' is ashore on Namquit Point. Who will help
destroy her?"
All who expressed a desire to join in the enterprise were directed to
repair to the Sabin House; and thither, later in the evening, flocked
many of the townspeople carrying guns, powder-flasks, and
bullet-pouches. Within the house all was life and bustle. The great
hall was crowded with determined men, discussing the plan of attack.
Guns stood in every corner, while down in the kitchen a half a dozen
men stood about a glowing fire busily casting bullets. At last, all
being prepared, the party crossed the street to the dock, and
embarked,--a veteran sea-captain taking the tiller of each boat.
On the way down the harbor the boats stopped, and took aboard a number
of paving-stones and stout clubs, as weapons for those who had no
muskets. After this stoppage the boats continued on their way, until,
when within sixty yards of the "Gaspee," the long-drawn hail. "Who
comes there?" rang out over the water. No answer was made, and the
lookout quickly repeated his hail. Capt. Whipple, one of the leaders of
the attack, then responded,--
"I want to come on board."
Dudingston, who was below at the time, rushed on deck, exclaiming,
"Stand off. You can't come aboard."
As Dudingston stood at the side of the "Gaspee" warning off the
assailants, he presented a good mark; and Joseph Bucklin, who pulled
an oar in the leading boat, turned to a comrade and said, "Ephe, lend
me your gun, and I can kill that fellow." The gun was accordingly
handed him, and he fired. Dudingston fell to the deck. Just as the
shot was fired, the leader of the assailants cried out,--
"I am sheriff of the county of Kent. I am come for the commander of
this vessel; and have him I will, dead or alive. Men, spring to your
oars."
In an instant the boats were under the lee of the schooner, and the
attacking party was clambering over the side. The first man to attempt
to board seized a rope, and was clambering up, when one of the British
cut the rope, and let him fall into the water. He quickly recovered
himself, and was soon on deck, where he found his comrades driving the
crew of the "Gaspee" below, and meeting with but little resistance.
A surgeon who was with the party of Americans led the boarders below,
and began the task of tying the hands of the captured crew with strong
tarred cord. While thus engaged, he was called on deck.
"What is wanted, Mr. Brown?" asked he, calling the name of the person
inquiring for him.
"Don't call names, but go immediately into the cabin," was the
response. "There is one wounded, and will bleed to death."
The surgeon went into the captain's cabin, and there found Dudingston,
severely wounded, and bleeding freely. Seeing no cloth suitable for
bandages, the surgeon opened his vest, and began to tear his own shirt
into strips to bind up the wound. With the tenderest care the hurt of
the injured officer was attended to; and he was gently lowered into a
boat, and rowed up the river to Providence.
The Americans remained in possession of the captured schooner, and
quickly began the work of demolition. In the captain's cabin were a
number of bottles of liquor, and for these the men made a rush; but
the American surgeon dashed the bottles to pieces with the heels of
his heavy boots, so that no scenes of drunkenness were enacted. After
breaking up the furniture and trappings of the craft, her people were
bundled over the side into the boats of their captors, and the torch
was set to the schooner. The boats layoff a little distance until the
roaring flames satisfied them that the "Gaspee" would never again
annoy American merchantmen. As the schooner's shotted guns went off
one after the other, the Americans turned their boats' prows homeward,
and soon dispersed quietly to their homes.
It is almost incredible that the identity of the parties to this
expedition was kept a secret until long after the Revolution. Although
the British authorities made the most strenuous efforts, and offered
huge rewards for the detection of the culprits, not one was discovered
until after the Colonies had thrown off the royal yoke, when they came
boldly forward, and boasted of their exploit.
After the destruction of the "Gaspee," the colonists in no way openly
opposed the authority of the king, until the time of those stirring
events immediately preceding the American Revolution. Little was done
on the water to betoken the hatred of the colonists for King George.
The turbulent little towns of Providence and Newport subsided, and the
scene of revolt was transferred to Massachusetts, and particularly to
Boston. In the streets of Boston occurred the famous massacre, and at
the wharves of Boston lay the three ships whose cargo aroused the ire
of the famous Boston tea-party.
To almost every young American the story of the Boston tea-party is as
familiar as his own name,--how the British Parliament levied a tax
upon tea, how the Colonies refused to pay it; and determined to use
none of the article; how British merchants strove to force the tea
upon the unwilling colonists, and how the latter refused to permit the
vessels to unload, and in some cases drove them back to England. At
Philadelphia, Annapolis, Charleston, Newport, and Providence,
disturbances took place over the arrival of the tea-ships; but at
Boston the turbulence was the greatest.
The story of that dramatic scene in the great drama of American
revolution has been told too often to bear repetition. The arrival of
three ships laden with tea aroused instant indignation in the New
England city. Mass meetings were held, the captains of the vessels
warned not to attempt to unload their cargoes, and the consignees were
terrified into refusing to have any thing to do with the tea.
In the midst of an indignation meeting held at the Old South Church, a
shrill war-whoop resounded from one of the galleries. The startled
audience, looking in that direction, saw a person disguised as a
Mohawk Indian, who wildly waved his arms and shouted,--
"Boston Harbor, a tea-pot to-night! Hurrah for Griffin's Wharf."
In wild excitement the meeting adjourned, and the people crowded out
into the streets. Other Indians were seen running down the streets in
the direction of Griffin's Wharf, where the tea-ships were moored, and
thither the people turned their steps.
On reaching the wharf, a scene of wild confusion was witnessed. The
three tea-ships lay side by side at the wharf. Their decks were
crowded with men, many of them wearing the Indian disguise. The
hatches were off the hatchways; and the chests of tea were being
rapidly passed up, broken open, and thrown overboard. There was little
noise, as the workers seemed to be well disciplined, and went about
their work in the bright moonlight with systematic activity. In about
three hours the work was done. Three hundred and forty-two chests of
tea had been thrown overboard, and the rioters dispersed quietly to
their homes.
The incident of the destruction of the tea in Boston Harbor was the
last of the petty incidents that led up to the American Revolution.
Following quick upon it came Lexington, Concord, and Bunker
Hill,--then the great conflict was fairly under way, and the Colonies
were fighting for liberty. What part the sailors of the colonies took
in that struggle, it is the purpose of this book to recount.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BEGINNING OF THE NAVY. -- LEXINGTON AND CONCORD. -- A
BLOW STRUCK IN MAINE. -- CAPTURE OF THE "MARGARETTA." --
GEN. WASHINGTON AND THE NAVY. -- WORK OF CAPT. MANLY.
In treating of the history of the navy during the war of the
Revolution, we must always bear in mind the fact, that, during the
greater part of that war, there was no navy. Indeed, the subject
presents much the same aspect as the celebrated chapter on snakes in
Ireland, which consisted of exactly six words, "There are no snakes in
Ireland." So many of the episodes and incidents of the Revolutionary
war that we chronicle as part of the naval history of that struggle
are naval only in that they took place on the water. The participants
in them were often longshoremen, fishermen, or privateersmen, and but
seldom sailors enrolled in the regular navy of the united colonies.
Nevertheless, these irregular forces accomplished some results that
would be creditable to a navy in the highest state of efficiency and
discipline.
The expense of building vessels-of-war, and the difficulty, amounting
even to impossibility, of procuring cannon for their armament,
deterred the Colonies from equipping a naval force. All the energies
of the revolutionists were directed towards organizing and equipping
the army. The cause of independence upon the ocean was left to shift
for itself. But, as the war spread, the depredations of British
vessels along the coast became so intolerable that some colonies
fitted out armed vessels for self-protection. Private enterprise sent
out many privateers to prey upon British commerce, so that the
opening months of the year 1776 saw many vessels on the ocean to
support the cause of the Colonies. To man these vessels, there were
plenty of sailors; for even at that early day New England had begun to
develop that race of hardy seamen for which she is still noted in this
day of decadence in the American marine. There was, however, a sad
lack of trained officers to command the vessels of the infant navy.
Many Americans were enrolled on the lists of the ships flying the
royal banner of England, but most of these remained in the British
service. The men, therefore, who were to command the ships of the
colonies, were trained in the rough school of the merchant service,
and had smelt gunpowder only when resisting piratical attacks, or in
serving themselves as privateers.
For these reasons the encounters and exploits that we shall consider
as being part of the naval operations of the Revolutionary war were of
a kind that would to-day be regarded as insignificant skirmishes; and
the naval officer of to-day would look with supreme contempt upon most
of his brethren of '76, as so many untrained sea-guerillas.
Nevertheless, the achievements of some of the seamen of the Revolution
are not insignificant, even when compared with exploits of the era of
Farragut; and it must be remembered that the efforts of the devoted
men were directed against a nation that had in commission at the
opening of the war three hundred and fifty-three vessels, and even
then bore proudly the title conferred upon her by the consent of all
nations,--"The Mistress of the Seas."
It was on the 19th of April, 1775, that the redoubtable Major Pitcairn
and his corps of scarlet-coated British regulars shot down the
colonists on the green at Lexington, and then fled back to Boston
followed by the enraged minute-men, who harassed the retreating
redcoats with a constant fire of musketry. The news of the battle
spread far and wide; and wherever the story was told, the colonists
began arming themselves, and preparing for resistance to the
continually increasing despotism of the British authorities.
On the 9th of May, a coasting schooner from Boston put into the little
seaport of Machias on the coast of Maine. The people of the little
town gathered at the wharf, and from the sailors first heard the story
of Lexington and Concord. The yoke of the British Government had
rested lightly on the shoulders of the people of Machias. Far from
the chief cities of the New World, they had heard little of the
continued dissensions between the Colonies and the home Government,
and they heard the story of the rebellion with amazement. But however
unprepared they might have been for the news of the outbreak, their
sympathies went warmly out to their struggling brethren, and they
determined to place themselves shoulder to shoulder with the
Massachusetts colonists in the fight against the oppression of the
British. Their opportunity for action came that very night.
As the sturdy young colonists stood on the deck listening to the
stories of the newly arrived sailors, they could see floating lightly
at anchor near the wharf a trimly rigged schooner flying the ensign of
the British navy. This craft was the "Margaretta," an armed schooner
acting as convoy to two sloops that were then loading with ship-timber
to be used in the service of the king.
The Boston sailors had not yet finished their narrative of the two
battles, when the thought occurred to some of the adventurous
listeners that they might strike a retaliatory blow by capturing the
"Margaretta." Therefore, bidding the sailors to say nothing to the
British of Lexington and Concord, they left the wharf and dispersed
through the town, seeking for recruits. That same evening, sixty
stalwart men assembled in a secluded farm-house, and laid their plans
for the destruction of the schooner. It was then Saturday night, and
the conspirators determined to attack the vessel the next morning
while the officers were at church. All were to proceed by twos and
threes to the wharf, in order that no suspicion might be aroused. Once
at the water-side, they would rush to their boats, and carry the
schooner by boarding.
Sunday morning dawned clear, and all seemed propitious for the
conspirators. The "Margaretta" had then been in port for more than a
week, and her officers had no reason to doubt the loyalty and
friendship of the inhabitants: no whisper of the occurrences in
Massachusetts, nor any hint of the purposes of the people of Machias,
had reached their ears. Therefore, on this peaceful May morning, Capt.
Moore donned his full-dress uniform, and with his brother officers
proceeded to the little church in the village.
Every thing then seemed favorable to the success of the adventure.
The "Margaretta," manned by a sleepy crew, and deserted by her
officers, lay within easy distance of the shore. It seemed as though
the conspirators had only to divide into two parties; and while the
one surrounded the church, and captured the worshipping officers, the
others might descend upon the schooner, and easily make themselves
masters of all.
But the plot failed. History fails to record just how or why the
suspicions of Capt. Moore were aroused. Whether it was that the wary
captain noticed the absence of most of the young men of the
congregation, or whether he saw the conspirators assembling on the
dock, is not known. But certain it is that the good dominie in the
pulpit, and the pious people in the pews, were mightily startled by
the sudden uprisal of Capt. Moore, who sprang from his seat, and,
calling upon his officers to follow him, leaped through the great
window of the church, and ran like mad for the shore, followed by the
rest of the naval party.
There was no more church for the good people of Machias that morning.
Even the preacher came down from his pulpit to stare through his
horn-rimmed glasses at the retreating forms of his whilom listeners.
And, as he stood in blank amazement at the church door, he saw a large
party of the missing young men of his congregation come dashing down
the street in hot pursuit of the retreating mariners. In their hands,
the pursuers carried sabres, cutlasses, old flint-lock muskets,
cumbrous horse-pistols, scythes, and reaping-hooks. The pursued wore
no arms; and, as no boat awaited them at the shore, their case looked
hopeless indeed. But the old salt left in charge of the schooner was
equal to the occasion. The unsabbath-like tumult on the shore quickly
attracted his attention, and with unfeigned astonishment he had
observed his commander's unseemly egress from the church. But, when
the armed band of colonists appeared upon the scene, he ceased to rub
his eyes in wonder, and quickly loaded up a swivel gun, with which he
let fly, over the heads of his officers, and in dangerous proximity to
the advancing colonists. This fire checked the advance of the
conspirators; and, while they wavered and hung back, a boat put off
from the schooner, and soon took the officers aboard. Then, after
firing a few solid shot over the town, merely as an admonition of what
might be expected if the hot-headed young men persisted in their
violent outbreaks, the "Margaretta" dropped down the bay to a more
secluded anchorage.
The defeated conspirators were vastly chagrined at the miscarriage of
their plot; but, nothing daunted, they resolved to attempt to carry
the schooner by assault, since strategy had failed. Therefore, early
the next morning, four young men seized upon a sloop, and, bringing
her up to the wharf, cheered lustily. A crowd soon gathered, and the
project was explained, and volunteers called for. Thirty-five hardy
sailors and woodmen hastily armed themselves with muskets, pitchforks,
and axes; and, after taking aboard a small supply of provisions, the
sloop dropped down the harbor toward the "Margaretta." The captain of
the threatened schooner had observed through his spy-glass the
proceedings at the wharf, and suspected his danger. He was utterly
ignorant of the reason for this sudden hostility on the part of the
people of Machias. He knew nothing of the quarrel that had thus
provoked the rebellion of the colonies. Therefore, he sought to avoid
a conflict; and, upon the approach of the sloop, he hoisted his
anchor, and fled down the bay.
The sloop followed in hot haste. The Yankees crowded forward, and
shouted taunts and jeers at their more powerful enemy who thus strove
to avoid the conflict. Both vessels were under full sail; and the size
of the schooner was beginning to tell, when, in jibing, she carried
away her main boom. Nevertheless, she was so far ahead of the sloop
that she was able to put into Holmes Bay, and take a spar out of a
vessel lying there, before the sloop overtook her. But the delay
incident upon changing the spars brought the sloop within range; and
Capt. Moore, still anxious to avoid an encounter, cut away his boats,
and stood out to sea. With plenty of sea room, and with a spanking
breeze on the quarter, the sloop proved to be the better sailer. Moore
then prepared for battle, and, as the sloop overhauled him, let fly
one of his swivels, following it immediately with his whole broadside,
killing one man. The sloop returned the fire with her one piece of
ordnance, which was so well aimed as to kill the man at the helm of
the "Margaretta," and clear her quarter-deck. The two vessels then
closed, and a hand-to-hand battle began, in which muskets,
hand-grenades, pikes, pitchforks, and cutlasses were used with deadly
effect. The colonists strove to board their enemy, but were repeatedly
beaten back. If any had thought that Capt. Moore's continued efforts
to avoid a conflict were signs of cowardice, they were quickly
undeceived; for that officer fought like a tiger, standing on the
quarter-deck rail, cheering on his men, and hurling hand-grenades down
upon his assailants, until a shot brought him down. The fall of their
captain disheartened the British; and the Americans quickly swarmed
over the sides of the "Margaretta," and drove her crew below.
This victory was no mean achievement for the colonists. The
"Margaretta" was vastly the superior, both in metal and in the
strength of her crew. She was ably officered by trained and courageous
seamen; while the Yankees had no leaders save one Jeremiah O'Brien,
whom they had elected, by acclamation, captain. That the Americans had
so quickly brought their more powerful foe to terms, spoke volumes for
their pluck and determination. Nor were they content to rest with the
capture of the schooner. Transferring her armament to the sloop,
O'Brien set out in search of prizes, and soon fell in with, and
captured, two small British cruisers. These he took to Watertown,
where the Massachusetts Legislature was then in session. The news of
his victory was received with vast enthusiasm; and the Legislature
conferred upon him the rank of captain, and ordered him to set out on
another cruise, and particularly watch out for British vessels
bringing over provisions or munitions of war to the king's troops in
America.
But by this time Great Britain was aroused. The king saw all America
up in arms against his authority, and he determined to punish the
rebellious colonists. A naval expedition was therefore sent against
Falmouth, and that unfortunate town was given to the flames. The
Legislature of Massachusetts then passed a law granting commissions to
privateers, and directing the seizure of British ships. Thereafter the
hostilities on the ocean, which had been previously unauthorized and
somewhat piratical, had the stamp of legislative authority.
Petty hostilities along the coast were very active during the first
few months of the war. The exploits of Capt. O'Brien stirred up seamen
from Maine to the Carolinas, and luckless indeed was the British
vessel that fell into their clutches. At Providence two armed American
vessels re-took a Yankee brig and sloop that had been captured by the
British. At Dartmouth a party of soldiers captured a British armed
brig. In addition to these exploits, the success of the American
privateers, which had got to sea in great numbers, added greatly to
the credit of the American cause.
The first order looking toward the establishment of a national navy
was given by Gen. Washington in the latter part of 1775. The
sagacious general, knowing that the British forces in Boston were
supplied with provisions and munitions of war by sea, conceived the
idea of fitting out some swift-sailing cruisers to intercept the
enemy's cruisers, and cut off their supplies. Accordingly, on his own
authority, he sent out Capt. Broughton with two armed schooners
belonging to the colony of Massachusetts. Broughton was ordered to
intercept two brigs bound for Quebec with military stores. This he
failed to do, but brought in ten other vessels. Congress, however,
directed the release of the captured ships, as it was then intended
only to take such vessels as were actually employed in the king's
service.
By this time Congress had become convinced that some naval force was
absolutely essential to the success of the American cause. In October,
1775, it therefore fitted out, and ordered to sea, a number of small
vessels. Of these the first to sail was the "Lee," under command of
Capt. John Manly, whose honorable name, won in the opening years of
the Revolution, fairly entitles him to the station of the father of
the American navy.
With his swift cruiser, Manly patrolled the New England coast, and was
marvellously successful in capturing British storeships. Washington
wrote to Congress, "I am in very great want of powder, lead, mortars,
and, indeed, most sorts of military stores." Hardly had the letter
been forwarded, when Manly appeared in port with a prize heavy laden
with just the goods for which the commander-in-chief had applied. A
queer coincidence is on record regarding these captured stores. Samuel
Tucker, an able Yankee seaman, later an officer in the American navy,
was on the docks at Liverpool as a transport was loading for America.
As he saw the great cases of guns and barrels of powder marked
"Boston" being lowered into the hold of the vessel, he said to a
friend who stood with him, "I would walk barefoot one hundred miles,
if by that means these arms could only take the direction of
Cambridge." Three months later Tucker was in Washington's camp at
Cambridge, and there saw the very arms he had so coveted on the
Liverpool docks. They had been captured by Capt. Manly.
Manly's activity proved very harassing to the British, and the
sloop-of-war "Falcon" was sent out to capture the Yankee. She fell in
with the "Lee" near Gloucester, just as the latter was making for
that port with a merchant schooner in convoy. Manly, seeing that the
Englishman was too heavy for him, deserted his convoy and ran into the
port, where he anchored, out of reach of the sloop's guns. Capt.
Lindzee of the "Falcon" stopped to capture the abandoned schooner, and
then taking his vessel to the mouth of the port, anchored her in such
a way as to prevent any escape for the "Lee." He then prepared to
capture the Yankee by boarding. The "Falcon" drew too much water to
run alongside the "Lee" at the anchorage Manly had chosen; and the
Englishman therefore put his men in large barges, and with a force of
about forty men set out to capture the schooner. Manly saw the force
that was to be brought against him, and sent his men to quarters,
preparing for a desperate resistance. The schooner was lying near the
shore; and the townspeople and militia gathered by the water-side,
with guns in their hands, prepared to lend their aid to the brave
defenders of the "Lee." As the three barges drew near the schooner,
Manly mounted the rail, and hailed them, warning them to keep off lest
he fire upon them.
"Fire, and be hanged to you," was the response of the lieutenant in
command of the assailants. "We have no fear of traitors."
So saying, the British pressed on through a fierce storm of musketry
from the deck of the schooner and from the shore. They showed no lack
of courage. The lieutenant himself brought his boat under the cabin
windows, and was in the act of boarding, when a shot from the shore
struck him in the thigh, and he was carried back to the man-of-war.
Capt. Lindzee, who had watched the progress of the fight from the deck
of the "Falcon," was greatly enraged when his lieutenant was thus
disabled; and he hastily despatched re-enforcements to the scene of
action, and directed the gunners on the "Falcon" to commence a
cannonade of the town.
"Now," said he with an oath, "my boys, we will aim at the Presbyterian
church. Well, my brave fellows, one shot more, and the house of God
will fall before you."