The broad deck stretched out before them, untenanted save by a few

wounded officers near the stern, and a grim old British seaman at the

wheel. Instead of the host of armed men with whom the boarders

expected to dispute the possession of the ship, they saw before them

only heaps of dead sailors lying about the guns which they had been

serving. On the quarter-deck lay Capt. Whinyates and Lieut. Wintle,

desperately wounded. All who were unhurt had fled below, to escape the

pitiless fire of the American guns, and the unerring aim of the

sailors stationed in the "Wasp's" tops. Only the old helmsman stood

undaunted at his post, and held the ship on her course, even while the

Americans were swarming over the nettings and clambering down the

bowsprit. The colors were still flying above the ship; but there was

no one left, either to defend them or to haul them down, and they were

finally lowered by the hands of Lieut. Biddle, who led the boarding

party.

No action of the war was so sanguinary as this short conflict between

two sloops-of-war. The "Frolic" went into action with a crew of one

hundred and ten men, fully officered. When the colors were hauled

down, only twenty men were uninjured. Every officer was wounded, and

of the crew thirty lost their lives. They had stood to their guns with

the dogged courage of the English sailor at his best, and had been

fairly mowed down by the destructive fire of the Americans. On the

"Wasp," the loss of life was slight. The shot of the enemy took effect

in the rigging chiefly. The three sailors who were killed were topmen

at their posts, and the five wounded were almost all stationed in the

rigging.

[Illustration: Ready To Board.]

The Americans were not destined to enjoy their triumph long. Shattered

though the "Frolic" was, Lieut. Biddle, with a prize-crew, took

charge of her, and was in hopes of taking her safely to port; but his

plan was rudely shattered by the appearance of an English frigate,

only a few hours after the action ceased. For the "Frolic" to escape,

was out of the question. Both her masts had gone by the board shortly

after her flag was struck; and, when the new enemy hove in sight, the

prize-crew was working hard to clear from her decks the tangled mass

of rigging, wreckage, and dead bodies, that made the tasks of

navigation impossible. The ship was rolling like a log, in the trough

of the sea, and was an easy prize for an enemy of even less strength

than the man-of-war which was then bearing down upon her.

The vessel which came rapidly down before the wind was the

"Poictiers," a British seventy-four-gun ship, which would have been

more than a match for the little "Wasp," even though the latter had

been fresh and ready for battle, instead of shattered by desperate

fight. Seeing no chance for a successful resistance, Capt. Jones

determined upon flight, and ordered all hands aloft, to make sail. But

the sails when shaken out were found to have been cut to pieces by the

"Frolic's" shot; and the "Poictiers" soon came alongside, and changed

the triumph of the Americans to defeat.

Though Capt. Jones and his gallant crew were thus deprived of their

hard-won conquest, they received their full meed of praise from their

countrymen. They were soon exchanged, voted twenty-five thousand

dollars prize-money by Congress, and lauded by every newspaper and

legislative orator in the country. The song-writers of the day

undertook to celebrate in verse the famous victory, and produced

dozens of songs, of which the following stanza may be taken for a fair

sample:--

"Like the fierce bird of Jove the 'Wasp' darted forth,

And he the tale told, with amazement and wonder.

She hurled on the foe from her flame-spreading arms,

The fire-brands of death and the red bolts of thunder.

And, oh! it was glorious and strange to behold

What torrents of fire from her red mouth she threw;

And how from her broad wings and sulphurous sides,

Hot showers of grape-shot and rifle-balls flew!"

Let us now turn to Commodore John Rodgers, whose unlucky cruise at the

opening of the war we have already noted. Having refitted his squadron

in the port of New York, he set sail on a second cruise, leaving

behind him the "Hornet." Again he seemed to have fallen upon

unprofitable times, for his ships beat up and down in the highway of

commerce without sighting a single sail. After several days of

inaction, it was determined to scatter the squadron; and to this end

the frigate "United States," Commodore Decatur, and the sixteen-gun

brig "Argus," Capt. Sinclair, left the main body of ships and started

off on a cruise in company. After the two ships left the main body,

Commodore Rodgers met with better success, capturing a Jamaica packet

with two hundred thousand dollars in her hold, and chasing a British

frigate for two hours, but without overhauling her.

In the mean time, the "Argus" had parted from her consort, and was

cruising to the eastward on her own account, meeting with fair

success. During her cruise she captured six merchantmen, and was

herself chased by a British squadron. This chase was almost as

memorable as that of the "Constitution;" for the little brig was hotly

pursued for three days and nights, and, to escape her pursuers, was

obliged to cut away her boats and anchors, and part with every thing

movable save her guns. She escaped at last, however, and was for many

months thereafter a source of continual annoyance to the commerce of

the enemy.

After parting with the "Argus," the "United States" had made her

course toward the south-east, in the hopes of intercepting some of the

British West-Indiamen. But what the plucky sailors would consider

better luck fell to the lot of the frigate.

At dawn on a bright Sunday morning, the lookout of the "United States"

descried a sail about twelve miles away, on the weather-beam. Sail was

crowded on the American frigate, and, urged along by a rattling

breeze, she made towards the stranger. As the distance between the

ships lessened, and the rigging of the stranger showed her to be a

frigate, the enthusiasm among the gallant tars of the "United States"

grew apace. Visions of battle, of glory, and, above all, of resultant

prize-money, arose in their minds; and their shouts could be heard by

the crew of the distant frigate before the two vessels came within

range of each other.

The vessel toward which the "United States" was advancing was the

"Macedonian," a British frigate rating thirty-eight guns, but said to

have been carrying forty-nine at this time. She had for some time been

reckoned a crack ship of her class in the British navy, and her crew

was in admirable training. From her quarter-deck and forecastle groups

of officers and seamen were watching the on-coming of the American

frigate. One of the powder monkeys, named Samuel Leech, of the British

ship, told graphically and simply the story of that day's doings on

the "Macedonian."

"Sunday (Dec. 25, 1812) came, and it brought with it a stiff breeze,"

so runs the powder-monkey's tale. "We usually made a sort of holiday

of this sacred day. After breakfast it was common to muster the entire

crew on the spar-deck, dressed as the fancy of the captain might

dictate,--sometimes in blue jackets and white trousers, or blue

jackets and blue trousers; at other times in blue jackets, scarlet

vests, and blue or white trousers; with our bright anchor-buttons

glancing in the sun, and our black, glossy hats ornamented with black

ribbons, and the name of our ship painted on them. After muster we

frequently had church-service read by the captain; the rest of the day

was devoted to idleness. But we were destined to spend the rest of the

sabbath just introduced to the reader in a very different manner.

"We had scarcely finished breakfast before the man at the masthead

shouted 'Sail, ho!'

"The captain rushed upon deck, exclaiming, 'Masthead, there!'

"'Sir?'

"'Where away is the sail?'

"The precise answer to this question I do not recollect; but the

captain proceeded to ask, 'What does she look like?'

"'A square-rigged vessel, sir,' was the reply of the lookout.

"After a few minutes, the captain shouted again, 'Masthead, there!'

"'Sir?'

"'What does she look like?'

"'A large ship, sir, standing toward us.'

"By this time, most of the crew were on deck, eagerly straining their

eyes to obtain a glimpse of the approaching ship, and murmuring their

opinions to each other on her probable character.

"Then came the voice of the captain, shouting, 'Keep silence, fore and

aft!'

"Silence being secured, he hailed the lookout, who to his question of

'What does she look like?' replied, "A large frigate bearing down upon

us, sir.'

"A whisper ran along the crew, that the stranger ship was a Yankee

frigate. The thought was confirmed by the command of 'All hands clear

the ship for action, ahoy!' The drum and fife beat to quarters,

bulkheads were knocked away, the guns were released from their

confinement, the whole dread paraphernalia of battle was produced;

and, after the lapse of a few minutes of hurry and confusion, every

man and boy was at his post ready to do his best service for his

country, except the band, who, claiming exemption from the affray,

safely stowed themselves away in the cable tier. We had only one sick

man on the list; and he, at the cry of battle, hurried from his cot,

feeble as he was, to take his post of danger. A few of the junior

midshipmen were stationed below on the berth-deck, with orders, given

in our hearing, to shoot any man who attempted to move from his

quarters.

"As the approaching ship showed American colors, all doubt of her

character was at an end. 'We must fight her,' was the conviction of

every breast. Every possible arrangement that could insure success was

accordingly made. The guns were shotted, the matches lighted; for,

although our guns were all furnished with first-class locks, they were

also furnished with matches, attached by lanyards, in case the lock

should miss fire. A lieutenant then passed through the ship, directing

the marines and boarders--who were furnished with pikes, cutlasses,

and pistols--how to proceed if it should be necessary to board the

enemy. He was followed by the captain, who exhorted the men to

fidelity and courage, urging upon their consideration the well-known

motto of the brave Nelson, _'England expects every man to do his

duty.'_ In addition to all these preparations on deck, some men were

stationed in the tops with small-arms, whose duty it was to attend to

trimming the sails, and to use their muskets, provided we came to

close action. There were others, also, below, called sail-trimmers, to

assist in working the ship, should it be necessary to shift her

position during the battle."

Thus, with her men at their quarters, her guns primed, and matches

lighted, the "Macedonian" bore down to open the action. On the "United

States," very similar scenes were being enacted. In some respects,

the American frigate was a more formidable ship than the adversary she

was about to engage. Her battery consisted of fifty-four guns, and

some were of heavier calibre than those of the "Macedonian." Her crew,

too, was rather larger than that of her adversary. But, in most

respects, the ships were well matched. Indeed, the commanders of the

two ships had met before the opening of the war, and, in conversation,

agreed that their vessels were well fitted to test the comparative

valor of Yankee and English sailors. Capt. Carden of the "Macedonian"

had asked Decatur what would be the probable result, if the two ships

were to meet in battle.

"Why, sir," responded the American captain, "if we meet with forces

that might be fairly called equal, the conflict would be severe; but

the flag of my country on the ship I command shall never leave the

staff on which it waves, as long as there is a hull to support it."

Such sentiments as this were ever in the heart of the gallant Decatur,

whose service in the war of 1812 was but the continuation of his

dashing career during the war with Tripoli. A captain of such ardent

bravery could not fail to inspire his crew with the same enthusiasm

and confidence.

In the crew of the "United States" were many young boys, of ages

ranging from twelve to fourteen years. At that time many a lad

received his warrant as midshipman while still in his tenth year; and

youngsters who wished to join the navy as "ship's boys," were always

received, although sometimes their extreme youth made it illegal for

their names to be formally enrolled upon the roster of the crew. Such

was the station of little Jack Creamer, a ten-year-old boy, who had

been serving on the ship for some weeks, although under the age at

which he could be legally enlisted. When Jack saw the English frigate

looming up in the distance, a troubled look came over his face, and he

seemed to be revolving some grave problem in his mind. His comrades

noticed his look of care, and rallied him on what they supposed to be

his fear of the coming conflict. Jack stoutly denied this charge, but

said he was anxious to speak to the captain before going into action.

An old quartermaster marched him up to the quarter-deck, and stood

waiting for Capt. Decatur's attention. In a moment the captain noticed

the two, and said cheerily,--

"Well, Jack, what's wanting now?"

Touching his hat, the lad replied, "Commodore, will you please to have

my name put down on the muster-roll?"

"Why, what for, my lad?"

"So that I can draw my share of the prize-money, when we take that

Britisher, sir."

Amused and pleased with the lad's confidence in the success of the

"United States" in the coming battle, Decatur gave the necessary

order; and Jack went back to his post with a prouder step, for he was

now regularly enrolled.

The two ships were now coming within range of each other, and a slow,

long-distance cannonade was begun, with but little effect; for a long

ground-swell was on, and the ships were rolling in a manner fatal to

the aim of the gunners. After half an hour of this playing at long

bowls, the Englishman's mizzen topmast was shot away; and the

cannon-balls from the "States" whizzed through the rigging, and

splashed into the water about the "Macedonian," in a way that proved

the American gunners had the range, and were utilizing it. Capt.

Carden soon saw that at long range the American gunners were more than

a match for his men, and he resolved to throw prudence to the winds;

and, disdaining all manoeuvring, bore straight down on the American

ship that lay almost stationary on the water, pouring in rapid and

well-aimed broadsides.

Though a gallant and dashing movement, this course led to the defeat

of the English ship. The fire of the Americans was deadly in its aim,

and marvellous in rapidity. So continuous was the flashing of the

discharges from the broadside ports, that the sailors on the

"Macedonian" thought their adversary was on fire, and cheered lustily.

But the next instant their exultation was turned to sorrow; for a

well-directed shot cut away the mizzen-mast, which fell alongside,

suspended by the cordage.

"Huzza, Jack!" cried the captain of a gun on the "United States."

"We've made a brig of her."

"Ay, ay, my lad," said Decatur, who stood near by; "now aim well at

the main-mast, and she'll be a sloop soon."

A few minutes later, the captain shouted to the nearest gunner, "Aim

at the yellow streak. Her spars and rigging are going fast enough. She

must have a little more hulling."

This order was immediately passed along the gun-deck, until every

gunner was striving his utmost to plant his shot in the hull of the

enemy. The effect was terrible. The great missiles crashed through the

wooden sides of the English frigate, and swept the decks clear of men.

She was coming down on the American bravely, and with manifest

intention of boarding; but so skilfully was the "United States"

manoeuvred, and so accurate and rapid was her fire, that the

"Macedonian" was unable to close, and was fairly cut to pieces, while

still more than a pistol-shot distant. The "United States," in the

mean time, was almost unscathed. The aim of the English gunners was

usually too high, and such shots as took effect were mainly in the

rigging. After pounding away at the "Macedonian" until the chocks of

the forecastle guns on that ship were cut away, her boats cut to

pieces, and her hull shattered with more than one hundred shot-holes,

the American ship drew away slightly. The British thought she was in

retreat, and cheered lustily, but were soon undeceived; for, after a

little manoeuvring, the "United States" ranged up under her

adversary's lee, securing a raking position. Before a broadside could

be fired, the British hauled down their flag; and the action was

ended, after just an hour and a half of fighting.

The slaughter on the British frigate had been appalling. From the

official accounts, we glean the cold reports of the numbers of the

killed and wounded; but for any picture of the scene on the decks of

the defeated man-of-war, we must turn to such descriptions as have

been left by eye-witnesses. Sailors are not much given to the habit of

jotting down the descriptions of the many stirring scenes in which

they play parts in their adventurous careers; and much that is

romantic, much that is picturesque, and much that is of historic

value, has thus been lost to history. But of the details of the action

between the "Macedonian" and "United States," the sailor-lad already

quoted has left an account, probably as trustworthy as should be

expected of a witness in his situation. He was stationed at one of the

guns on the main-deck; and it was his duty, as powder-boy, to run to

the magazine for powder for his gun. Before the entrance to the

magazine was a heavy wooden screen, pierced with a hole through which

the cartridges were passed out to the fleet-footed powder-monkeys, as

they rushed up for more powder. Each boy, on getting his cartridge,

wrapped it in his jacket, that no stray spark might touch it, and

dashed off at full speed for his gun, quickly returning for further

supplies.

With the men all standing pale and silent at the guns, the

"Macedonian" came on doggedly towards her foe. Three guns fired from

the larboard side of the gun-deck opened the action; but the fire was

quickly stopped by the gruff order from the quarter-deck, "Cease

firing: you are throwing away your shot!" Then came the roar of the

opening volley from the American frigate.

"A strange noise such as I had never heard before next arrested my

attention," wrote the English sailor-lad. "It sounded like the tearing

of sails just over our heads. This I soon ascertained to be the wind

of the enemy's shot. The firing, after a few minutes' cessation,

recommenced. The roaring of cannon could now be heard from all parts

of our trembling ship; and, mingling as it did with that of our foes,

it made a most hideous noise. By and by I heard the shot strike the

sides of our ship. The whole scene grew indescribably confused and

horrible. It was like some awfully tremendous thunderstorm, whose

deafening roar is attended by incessant streaks of lightning, carrying

death in every flash, and strewing the ground with the victims of its

wrath; only in our case the scene was rendered more horrible than that

by the presence of torrents of blood, which dyed our decks. Though the

recital may be painful, yet, as it will reveal the horrors of war, and

show at what a fearful price the victory is won or lost, I will

present the reader with things as they met my eye during the progress

of this dreadful fight. I was busily supplying my gun with powder,

when I saw blood suddenly fly from the arm of a man stationed at our

gun. I saw nothing strike him: the effect alone was visible; and in an

instant the third lieutenant tied his handkerchief round the wounded

arm, and sent the poor fellow below to the surgeon.

"The cries of the wounded now rang through all parts of the ship.

These were carried to the cock-pit as fast as they fell, while those

more fortunate men who were killed outright were immediately thrown

overboard. As I was stationed but a short distance from the main

hatchway, I could catch a glance at all who were carried below. A

glance was all I could indulge in; for the boys belonging to the guns

next to mine were wounded in the early part of the action, and I had

to spring with all my might to keep three or four guns supplied with

cartridges. I saw two of these lads fall nearly together. One of them

was struck in the leg by a large shot; he had to suffer amputation

above the wound. The other had a grape or canister sent through his

ankle. A stout Yorkshire man lifted him in his arms, and hurried with

him to the cock-pit. He had his foot cut off, and was thus made lame

for life. Two of the boys stationed on the quarter-deck were killed.

They were both Portuguese. A man who saw one killed afterwards told me

that his powder caught fire, and burnt the flesh almost off his face.

In this pitiable situation the agonized boy lifted up both hands, as

if imploring relief, when a passing shot instantly cut him in two."

But the narrative of this young sailor, a boy in years, is almost too

horrible for reproduction. He tells of men struck by three or four

missiles at once, and hacked to pieces; of mangled sailors, mortally

wounded, but still living, thrown overboard to end their sufferings;

of the monotonous drip of the blood on the deck, as desperately

wounded men were carried past. The brave seaman who left his bed of

sickness for the post of duty had his head carried away by a

cannon-ball. The schoolmaster who looked after the education of the

midshipmen was killed. Even a poor goat, kept by the officers for her

milk, was cut down by a cannon-ball, and, after hobbling piteously

about the deck, was mercifully thrown overboard. And this was Sunday,

Christmas Day!

The spot amidships where our sailor-lad was stationed must have been

the hottest station in the whole ship. Many years later, as Herman

Melville, the author of several exciting sea-tales, was walking the

deck of a man-of-war with an old negro, "Tawney," who had served on

the "Macedonian," the veteran stopped at a point abreast the

main-mast. "This part of the ship," said he, "we called the

slaughter-house, on board the 'Macedonian.' Here the men fell, five

and six at a time. An enemy always directs its shot here, in order to

hurl over the mast, if possible. The beams and carlines overhead in

the 'Macedonian' slaughter-house were spattered with blood and brains.

About the hatchways it looked like a butcher's stall. A shot entering

at one of the port-holes dashed dead two-thirds of a gun's crew. The

captain of the next gun, dropping his lock-string, which he had just

pulled, turned over the heap of bodies, to see who they were; when,

perceiving an old messmate who had sailed with him in many cruises, he

burst into tears, and taking the corpse up in his arms, and going to

the side with it, held it over the water a moment, and eying it,

cried, 'O God! Tom'--'Hang your prayers over that thing! Overboard

with it, and down to your gun!' The order was obeyed, and the

heart-stricken sailor returned to his post."

Amid such scenes of terror, the British tars fought on doggedly,

cheering loudly as they worked their guns, but not knowing why they

cheered; for the officers, at least, could see how surely the battle

was going against them. When the "United States" drew away to repair

damages, the British officers held a consultation on the quarter-deck.

They could not but see that their position was hopeless; and, knowing

all further resistance to be folly, the flag was hauled down. To the

pride of the officers, the surrender was doubtless a severe blow. But

Sam Leech remarks pithily, that to him "it was a pleasing sight; for

he had seen fighting enough for one Sabbath,--more, indeed, than he

wished to see again on a week-day."

Decatur at once hailed, to learn the name of his prize, and then sent

off a boat with Lieut. Allen to take possession. He found the decks of

the ship in a fearful state. Many of the crew had found liquor, and

were drinking heavily. Others were throwing the dead into the sea,

carrying the wounded below, and sprinkling the deck with hot vinegar,

to remove the stains and odor of blood. The dead numbered forty-three,

and sixty-one were wounded. An eye-witness of the terrible spectacle

writes of it: "Fragments of the dead were distributed in every

direction, the decks covered with blood,--one continued, agonizing yell

of the unhappy wounded. A scene so horrible of my fellow-creatures, I

assure you, deprived me very much of the pleasure of victory." Yet,

with all this terrific destruction and loss of life on the

"Macedonian," the "United States" was but little injured; and her loss

amounted to but seven killed, and five wounded. Indeed, so slight was

the damage done to the American ship, that an hour's active work by

her sailors put her in trim for a second battle.

While Lieut. Allen was examining the muster-rolls of the "Macedonian,"

a sailor pushed his way toward the quarter-deck, and cried out that he

was an impressed American, and that he had seven mates aboard, all

pressed into the British service. They had all been forced to serve

against their country, and in the battle three had been killed. Just

before the battle began, they had begged to be sent below, but were

peremptorily ordered to stand by their guns, or expect to be treated

as mutineers. Now that the battle was over, the five who were left

alive begged to be taken into the crew of the "United States," which

was accordingly done.

After the "Macedonian" had been formally taken possession of by

Lieut. Allen, the British officers were removed to the American ship.

Some of them were inclined to be very surly over their defeat, and by

words and actions showed their contempt for the Americans, whose

prisoners they were. In the first boat which went from the prize to

the victor was the first lieutenant of the "Macedonian." As he

clambered down the side of his vessel, he noticed that his baggage had

not been put in the boat which was to bear him to the American

frigate. Turning to Lieut. Allen, he said surlily,--

"You do not intend to send me away without my baggage?"

"I hope," responded Allen courteously, "that you do not take us for

privateersmen."

"I am sure I don't know by whom I have been taken," was the rude

reply, which so angered Allen that he peremptorily ordered the fellow

to take his place in the boat, and be silent.

Whatever may have been the demeanor of the British captives, they met

with nothing but the most considerate treatment from the American

officers. Capt. Carden, on his arrival upon the deck of the victorious

frigate, was received with the consideration due his rank and the

brave defence of his vessel. He was conducted at once to Decatur's

cabin, on entering which he took off his sword, and mutely held it out

for Decatur's acceptance. Decatur courteously refused to accept it,

saying, "Sir, I cannot take the sword of a man who has defended his

ship so bravely; but I will take your hand." As long as Carden and his

officers remained on the ship, they were treated with the greatest

consideration, and were allowed to retain all their personal property.

Every attempt was made to take away from them the bitter remembrance

of their defeat. The innate nobility of Decatur's nature is well shown

in a letter written to his wife a few days after the action. "One-half

of the satisfaction," he says, "a-rising from this victory is

destroyed in seeing the mortification of poor Carden, who deserved

success as much as we did who had the good fortune to obtain it." When

Carden left the ship, he thanked Decatur for his consideration, and

expressed a desire to do likewise by the Americans, should he ever be

able to turn the tables.

Amid the heat of battle and the excitement of success, Decatur did not

forget little Jack Creamer, the lately enrolled ship's boy. Shortly

after the close of the conflict, he sent for Jack to come to his

cabin. Soon a much abashed small boy stood before the captain.

"Well, Jack," said the great man, "we did take her, after all."

"Yes, your Honor," responded Jack. "I knew we would, before we gave

her the first broadside."

"And your share of the prize-money," continued Decatur, "may amount to

two hundred dollars, if we get her safe into port. Now, what are you

going to do with so much money?"

Jack's eyes had lighted up at the thought of such great wealth.

"Please, sir," he cried, "I'll send half of it to my mother; and the

rest will get me a bit of schooling."

"Well said, Jack," said Decatur warmly; and the interview closed for

the time. But the captain's interest in the boy was aroused, and for

years he showed an almost fatherly regard for the lad. Jack had his

"bit of schooling," then received a midshipman's warrant, and for

years served with Decatur, giving promise of becoming an able officer.

At last, however, his career was ended by the accidental upsetting of

a boat when on a pleasure excursion in the Mediterranean.

After putting in for a short time at New London, the two ships, captor

and captive, proceeded down the Sound to New York. Here they arrived

on the 1st of January, 1813; and the news-writers of the day

straightway hailed the "Macedonian" as "a New Year's gift, with the

compliments of old Neptune." However, the news of the victory had

spread throughout the land before the ships came up to New York; for

Decatur had sent out a courier from New London to bear the tidings to

Washington. A curious coincidence made the delivery of the despatch as

impressive as a studied dramatic scene.

It so happened that the people of Washington had chosen the night of

Dec. 28 for a grand ball, to be tendered to the officers of the navy,

and particularly to Capt. Stewart of the "Constellation." A brilliant

company was gathered, in honor of the occasion. The Secretary of the

Navy, and other cabinet officers, lent their presence to the

festivities. Capt. Hull of the victorious "Constitution" was present;

and, to make the affair even more of a triumph, the captured colors of

the "Alert" and the "Guerriere" were draped on the wall of the hall.

Near midnight, the revelry was at its height. The brilliant toilets of

the ladies; the men, gorgeous in the uniforms of the army, navy, or

diplomatic corps; the light of a thousand wax-candles flashing from a

myriad of sconces,--made the scene one of the utmost splendor. All at

once, in the midst or the stately measures of the old-fashioned

minuet, a murmur rose near the entrance to the hall, and spread until

every one was whispering, that news had come of a great naval battle,

a victory. Word was brought to the Secretary of the Navy. He directed

that the bearer of the despatches should be at once admitted; and,

amid cheers and clapping of hands, Lieut. Hamilton entered the hall,

and delivered his despatches to his father, the Secretary of the Navy.

The tenor of the despatch was soon known to all; and Lieut. Hamilton

turned from the greetings of his mother and sisters, who were present,

to receive the congratulations of his brother-officers. He had brought

the colors of the captured ship with him to the city; and Capts.

Stewart and Hull immediately went in search of them, and soon

returned, bearing the flag between them. The two veteran sailors

marched the length of the hall, amid the plaudits of the gay company,

and laid the colors before Mrs. Madison,--the Dolly Madison who is

still remembered as the most popular of the "ladies of the White

House." Then the company proceeded to the banquet-hall, where, to the

list of toasts already prepared, was added, "The health of Commodore

Decatur and the officers and crew of the 'United States.'"

Two weeks later, Capt. Decatur and his officers and the crew of the

"United States" were sumptuously entertained by the citizens of New

York. The officers were tendered a banquet in the great assembly-room

of the City Hotel, which was decked with laurel and ship's spars and

sails. The chief table at the head of the room, at which sat Mayor De

Witt Clinton and Capts. Hull and Decatur, was a marvel of decoration.

Its centre was taken up by a sheet of water with grassy banks, bearing

on its placid surface a miniature frigate floating at her moorings.

Each of the smaller tables bore a small frigate on a pedestal in the

centre of the board. On the wall at the end of the room hung a heavy

sail, on which was printed the motto,--

"OUR CHILDREN ARE THE PROPERTY OF THEIR COUNTRY."

After the dinner was ended and the toasts were begun, the health of

the navy was proposed. At the word, the great sail began to ascend,

and, being drawn to the ceiling, disclosed an illuminated transparent

painting, showing vividly the scenes of the three great actions won

by the "Constitution," the "United States," and the "Wasp." The whole

company rose and cheered, until the walls of the hall fairly rung.

Three days later, the jackies from the forecastle of the "United

States" were entertained. They were landed at the Battery, and marched

in procession to the hotel, headed by a brass band which had been

captured with the "Macedonian." Four hundred of the fine fellows were

in the line, clad in the dress uniform of the navy of that time.

Glazed canvas hats with stiff rims, decked with streamers of ribbon;

blue jackets buttoned loosely over red waistcoats; and blue trousers

with bell-buttons,--made up the toggery of the tar of 1812. As they

marched, two by two, through the narrow streets that led to the City

Hotel, the populace assembled on the sidewalks and in the windows

along the route, greeting the jackies with cheers. The rear was

brought up by the usual band of street-urchins, each of whom that day

was firm in his determination to be a sailor.

After the banquet at the hotel, the sailors were marched to the

theatre, where the pit had been set aside for them. The orchestra

opened with "Yankee Doodle;" but the first bar had hardly been played,

when the cheers of the blue-jackets fairly drowned the music, and the

musicians were fain to stop. The programme had been arranged with

special regard to the seafaring audience. Little children bounded upon

the stage, bearing huge letters in their hands, and, after lightly

whirling through the mazes of the dance, grouped themselves so that

the letters formed the words,--

HULL, JONES, DECATUR.

Then came more cheers from the pit; and more than one glazed hat

soared over the heads of the audience, and fell on the stage,--a

purely nautical substitute for a bouquet. Late at night, the sailors

returned to their ship, elated with an ovation the like of which has

never since been tendered to the humble heroes of the forecastle or

the ranks.

CHAPTER VI.

BAINBRIDGE TAKES COMMAND OF THE "CONSTITUTION." -- THE

DEFEAT OF THE "JAVA." -- CLOSE OF THE YEAR'S HOSTILITIES ON

THE OCEAN.

As Hull and Decatur sat in the gayly decorated banquet-hall at New

York, and, amid the plaudits of the brilliant assembly, drank bumpers

to the success of the navy, they little thought that thousands of

miles away the guns of an American frigate were thundering, and the

stout-hearted blue-jackets laying down their lives for the honor and

glory of the United States. But so it was. The opening year of the war

was not destined to close without yet a fourth naval victory for the

Americans; and, at the very moment when they were so joyfully

celebrating the glories already won, Capt. Bainbridge in the good ship

"Constitution" was valiantly giving battle to a British frigate far

south of the equator.

Before considering the details of this last action of the year 1812,

let us recount briefly the movements of some American vessels in

commission at this time. After sending the "Guerriere" to the bottom

of the sea, and bringing her officers and crew in triumph into Boston,

Capt. Hull had voluntarily relinquished the command of the

"Constitution," in order that some other officer might win laurels

with the noble frigate. In his place was appointed Capt. Bainbridge,

who had served in the wars with France and Tripoli. After a short time

spent in refitting, Bainbridge sailed from Boston, accompanied by the

"Hornet," eighteen guns. The "Essex," thirty-two, Capt. Porter, was

lying in the Delaware at the time Bainbridge left Boston, and her

captain was ordered to cruise in the track of British West-Indiamen.

After spending some time in this service, he was to turn southward and

visit several South American ports, with a view to joining Bainbridge.

Should he fail to find the "Constitution," he was free to act at his

own discretion. This permission gave Porter an opportunity to make a

cruise seldom equalled in naval annals, and which will form the

subject of a subsequent chapter.

The "Constitution" and "Hornet" left Boston on the 26th of October,

and shaped their course at once for the south. They put in at two or

three ports which had been named to Capt. Porter as meeting-places,

but, finding no trace of the "Essex," continued their cruise. At Port

Praya in the island of St. Jago, and at Fernando Noronha, the two

ships assumed the character of British men-of-war. Officers from whose

uniform every trace of the American eagle had been carefully removed

went ashore, and, after paying formal visits to the governors of the

two islands, requested permission to leave letters for Sir James Yeo

of His Majesty's service. Though directed to this prominent British

naval officer, the letters were intended for Capt. Porter, and

contained directions for his cruise, written in sympathetic ink. After

the letters were deposited, the two vessels left; and we may be sure

that the British colors came down from the masthead as soon as the

ships were out of sight.

The next point at which the American ships stopped was San Salvador,

on the coast of Brazil. Here Bainbridge lay-to outside the harbor, and

sent in Capt. Lawrence with the "Hornet" to communicate with the

American consul. Lawrence returned greatly excited. In the harbor he

had found the British sloop-of-war "Bonne Citoyenne," of twenty guns,

which was on the point of sailing for England. A more evenly matched

adversary for the "Hornet" could not have been found, and the Yankee

sailors longed for an engagement. A formal challenge was sent, through

the American consul, to the captain of the British ship, requesting

him to come out and try conclusions with the "Hornet." Every assurance

was offered that the "Constitution" would remain in the offing, and

take no part in the battle, which was to test the strength of the two

equally matched ships only. Some days later, this challenge was

reduced to writing, and sent to the English captain. But that officer

declined the challenge, giving as his reason the fact that he had in

his ship over half a million pounds in specie, which it was his duty

to convey to England. For him to give battle to the "Hornet," would

therefore be unwise, as he would put in jeopardy this money which it

was his duty to guard. This response was conclusive, and the

Englishman must be admitted to have acted wisely; but the knowledge of

the valuable cargo of the "Bonne Citoyenne" only increased the desire

of the Americans to capture her. The "Hornet" accordingly remained

outside the harbor, as a blockader, while the "Constitution" continued

her cruise alone.

[Illustration: Assuming To Be British Men-of-war.]

She had not far to go in order to meet an enemy well worthy of her

metal. Three days after parting with the "Hornet," two sail were made,

well in shore. One of the vessels so sighted seemed to make for the

land, as though anxious to avoid meeting the American ship; while the

other came about, and made her course boldly toward the

"Constitution."

It was about nine o'clock on a bright December morning that the

"Constitution" encountered the strange vessel, which bore down upon

her. A light breeze, of sufficient force to enable the vessels to

manoeuvre, was blowing; but the surface of the ocean was as placid as

a lake in summer. The build of the stranger left no doubt of her

warlike character, and the bold manner in which she sought a meeting

with the American ship convinced Bainbridge that he had fallen in with

an enemy. The "Constitution" did not for a time meet the enemy's

advances in kind. Back of the advancing frigate could be seen the low,

dark coast-line of Brazil, into whose neutral waters the Englishman

could retreat, and thus gain protection, if the conflict seemed to go

against him. Bainbridge determined that the coming battle should be

fought beyond the possibility of escape for the vanquished, and

therefore drew away gradually as the stranger came on. By noon the two

ships were near enough together for flags to be visible, when

Bainbridge set his colors, and displayed private signals. The enemy

did the same; and, though his signals were unintelligible, the flag

that fluttered at the masthead was clearly the flag of Great Britain.

Bainbridge continued his retreat for an hour longer, then, being far

enough from land, took in his main-sail and royals, and tacked toward

the Englishman.

By this time the strange sail which had been sighted in company with

the English ship had disappeared. The low-lying coast of Brazil had

sunk below the horizon. From the deck of the "Constitution," nothing

could be seen but the vast circle of placid ocean, and the English

frigate about a mile to the windward, bearing down to open the fight.

The drums beat, and the crew went quietly and in perfect order to

their quarters. They were no longer the raw, untrained crew that had

joined the ship some months before. They were veterans, with the

glorious victory over the "Guerriere" fresh in their remembrance, and

now animated with a desire to add to their trophies the strange vessel

then in sight.

As the enemy, which proved to be the "Java," thirty-eight, Capt.

Lambert, came nearer, she hauled down her colors, leaving only a jack

flying. A jack is a small flag hoisted at the bowsprit cap. The Union

jack of the United States navy is a blue flag dotted with stars, but

without the stripes of the national flag; the jack of Great Britain

has the scarlet cross of St. George on a blue field. The Englishman's

action in hauling down his ensigns puzzled Bainbridge, who sent a shot

as an order that they be raised again. The response to this reminder

came in the form of a heavy broadside, and the action opened.

In the light wind that was blowing, the enemy proved the better

sailer, and soon forged ahead. His object was to cross the bows of the

American ship, and get in a raking broadside,--the end and aim of most

of the naval manoeuvring in those days of wooden ships and heavy

batteries. By skilful seamanship, Bainbridge warded off the danger;

and the fight continued broadside to broadside. The firing on both

sides was rapid and well directed. After half an hour of fighting, the

"Constitution" was seriously crippled by a round shot, which carried

away her wheel, and wounded Bainbridge by driving a small copper bolt

deep into his thigh. For a moment it seemed as though the American

ship was lost. Having no control over the rudder, her head fell off,

her sails flapped idly against the spars, and the enemy was fast

coming into an advantageous position. But, though wounded, the

indomitable Yankee captain was equal to the occasion. Tackle was

rigged upon the rudder-post between decks, and a crew of jackies

detailed to work the improvised helm. The helmsmen were far out of

earshot of the quarter-deck: so a line of midshipmen was formed from

the quarter-deck to the spot where the sailors tugged at the

steering-lines.

"Hard-a-port!" Bainbridge would shout from his station on the

quarter-deck.

[Illustration: Marines Picking Off The Enemy.]

"Hard-a-port! Hard-a-port!" came the quick responses, as the

midshipmen passed the word along. And so the ship was steered; and,

notwithstanding the loss of her wheel, fairly out-manoeuvred her

antagonist. The first raking broadside was delivered by the

"Constitution," and did terrible execution along the gun-deck of the

English ship. The two ships then ran before the wind, exchanging

broadsides at a distance of half pistol-shot. At this game the

American was clearly winning: so the Englishman determined to close

and board, in the dashing, fearless way that had made the tars of

Great Britain the terror of all maritime peoples. The frigate bore

down on the "Constitution," and struck her on the quarter; the long

jib-boom tearing its way through the rigging of the American ship.

But, while this movement was being executed, the American gunners had

not been idle; and the results of their labors were very evident, in

the rigging of the "Java." Her jib-boom and bowsprit were so shattered

by shot, that they were on the point of giving way; and, as the ships

met, the mizzen-mast fell, crashing through forecastle and main-deck,

crushing officers and sailors beneath it in the fall, and hurling the

topmen into the ocean to drown. The "Constitution" shot ahead, but

soon wore and lay yard-arm to yard-arm with her foe. For some minutes

the battle raged with desperation. A dense sulphurous smoke hung about

the hulls of the two ships, making any extended vision impossible.

Once in a while a fresher puff of wind, or a change in the position of

the ships, would give the jackies a glimpse of their enemy, and show

fierce faces glaring from the open ports, as the great guns were drawn

in for loading. Then the gray pall of smoke fell, and nothing was to

be seen but the carnage near at hand. The officers on the quarter-deck

could better judge of the progress of the fray; and, the marines

stationed there took advantage of every clear moment to pick off some

enemy with a shot from one of their muskets. High up in the tops of

the "Constitution" were two small howitzers, with which crews of

topmen, under the command of midshipmen, made lively play with grape

and canister upon the crowded decks of the enemy. From the cavernous

submarine depths of the cock-pit and magazine, to the tops of each

ship, not an idler was to be found. Chaplains, surgeons, clerks,

cooks, and waiters--all were working or fighting for the honor of the

flag under which they served.

Again the British determined to board; and the quick, sharp notes of

the bugle calling up the boarders gave warning of their intentions.

The men in the tops of the American frigate, looking down from their

lofty station, could see the crowd of boarders and marines gathered on

the forecastle and in the gang-ways, and could hear the shrill notes

of the boatswain's whistle cheering them on. At that moment, however,

the American fire raked the enemy with fearful effect, and the volleys

of musketry from the marines and topmen made such havoc among the

crowded boarders that the attempt was abandoned. The deadly fire of

the Americans was not slackened. Capt. Lambert was struck down,

mortally wounded; and the command fell upon Lieut. Chads, who, though

himself badly wounded, continued the fight with true British courage.

Over the side of the "Java" hung the wreck of her top-hamper, which

every broadside set on fire. Yet the British tars fought on, cheering

lustily, and not once thinking of surrender, though they saw their

foremast gone, their mizzen-mast shivered, even the last flag shot

away, and the last gun silenced.

When affairs had reached this stage, the "Constitution," seeing no

flag flying on the enemy, hauled away, and set about repairing her

own damages. While thus engaged, the main-mast of the "Java" was seen

to go by the board, and the ship lay a hopeless wreck upon the water.

After making some slight repairs, Bainbridge returned to take

possession of his prize, but, to his surprise, found a jack still

floating over the helpless hulk. It was merely a bit of bravado,

however; for, as the "Constitution" ranged up alongside, the jack was

hauled down.

[Illustration: In The Cross-trees.]

The "Java" proved to be a rich prize. She was one of the best of the

English frigates, and had just been especially fitted up for the

accommodation of the governor-general of Bombay and his staff, all of

whom were then on board. This added to the regular number of officers

and crew more than one hundred prisoners, mostly of high rank in

British military and social circles.

The boarding officer found the ship so badly cut up that to save her

was impossible. Her loss in men, including her captain Henry Lambert,

and five midshipmen, was forty-eight, together with one hundred and

five wounded, among whom were many officers. The "Constitution" had

suffered much less severely, having but twelve killed and twenty

wounded. The ship herself was but little damaged; her chief injury

being the loss of her wheel, which was immediately replaced by that of

the "Java."

Capt. Bainbridge now found himself a great distance from home, with a

disabled ship filled with prisoners, many of whom were wounded. Even

had the wreck of the "Java" been less complete, it would have been

hazardous to attempt to take her back to the United States through the

West India waters that swarmed with British vessels. No course was

open save to take the prisoners aboard the "Constitution," and set the

torch to the disabled hulk.

To do this was a work of no little difficulty. The storm of lead and

iron that had swept across the decks of the British frigate had left

intact not one of the boats that hung from the davits. The

"Constitution" had fared better; but, even with her, the case was

desperate, for the British cannonade had left her but two serviceable

boats. To transfer from the sinking ship to the victorious frigate

nearly five hundred men, over a hundred of whom were wounded, was a

serious task when the means of transfer were thus limited.

Three days the "Constitution" lay by her defeated enemy, and hour

after hour the boats plied between the two ships. The first to be

moved were the wounded. Tackle was rigged over the side of the "Java;"

and the mangled sufferers, securely lashed in their hammocks, were

gently lowered into the waiting boat, and soon found themselves in the

sick-bay of the American ship, where they received the gentlest

treatment from those who a few hours before sought only to slay them.

The transfer of the wounded once accomplished, the work proceeded with

great rapidity: and in the afternoon of the third day the

"Constitution" was filled with prisoners; and the "Java," a deserted,

shattered hulk, was ready for the last scene in the drama of her

career.

The last boat left the desolate wreck, and, reaching the

"Constitution," was hauled up to the davits. The side of the American

frigate next to the abandoned ship was crowded with men, who looked

eagerly across the water. Through the open port-holes of the "Java," a

flickering gleam could be seen, playing fitfully upon the decks and

gun-carriages. The light grew brighter, and sharp-tongued flames

licked the outside of the hull, and set the tangled cordage in a

blaze. With this the whole ship seemed to burst into fire, and lay

tossing, a huge ball of flame, on the rising sea. When the fire was

raging most fiercely, there came a terrific explosion, and the great

hull was lifted bodily from the water, falling back shattered into

countless bits. Guns, anchors, and ironwork dragged the greater part

of the wreckage to the bottom; and when the "Constitution," with all

sail set, left the spot, the captive Englishmen, looking sadly back,

could see only a patch of charred woodwork and cordage floating upon

the ocean to mark the burial-place of the sturdy frigate "Java."

The "Constitution" made sail for San Salvador, where the prisoners

were landed; first giving their paroles not to serve against the

"United States" until regularly exchanged. Bainbridge then took his

ship to Boston, where she arrived in February, 1813.

The substitution of the wheel of the "Java" for that of the

"Constitution," shot away in battle, has been alluded to. In his

biography of Capt. Bainbridge, Fenimore Cooper relates a story of

interest regarding this trophy. It was a year or two after peace was

made with England, in 1815, that a British naval officer visited the

"Constitution," then lying at the Boston navy-yard. The frigate had

been newly fitted out for a cruise to the Mediterranean; and an

American officer, with some pride, showed the Englishman over the

ship, which was then undoubtedly the finest of American naval vessels.

After the tour of the ship had been made, the host said, as they stood

chatting on the quarter-deck,--

"Well, what do you think of her?"

"She is one of the finest frigates, if not the very finest, I ever put

my foot aboard of," responded the Englishman; "but, as I must find

some fault, I'll just say that your wheel is one of the clumsiest

things I ever saw, and is unworthy of the vessel."

The American officer laughed.

"Well, you see," said he, "when the 'Constitution' took the 'Java,'

the former's wheel was shot out of her. The 'Java's' wheel was fitted

on the victorious frigate, to steer by; and, although we think it as

ugly as you do, we keep it as a trophy."

All criticisms on the wheel ended then and there.

The defeat of the "Java" closed the warfare on the ocean during 1812.

The year ended with the honors largely in the possession of the United

States navy. The British could boast of the capture of but two armed

vessels,--the "Nautilus," whose capture by an overwhelming force we

have already noted; and the little brig "Vixen," twelve guns, which

Sir James Yeo, with the "Southampton," thirty-two, had overhauled and

captured in the latter part of November. The capture of the "Wasp" by

the "Poictiers," when the American sloop-of-war was cut up by her

action with the "Frolic," was an occurrence, which, however

unfortunate for the Americans, reflected no particular honor upon the

British arms.

In opposition to this record, the Americans could boast of victory in

four hard-fought battles. In no case had they won through any lack of

valor on the part of their antagonists; for the Englishmen had not

sought to avoid the battle, and had fought with the dogged valor

characteristic of their nation. In one or two instances, it is true

that the Americans were more powerful than the foe whom they engaged;

but, in such cases, the injury inflicted was out of all proportion to

the disparity in size of the combatants. The four great actions

resulting in the defeat of the "Guerriere," the "Frolic," the

"Macedonian," and the "Java," showed conclusively that the American

blue-jackets were equal in courage to their British opponents, and far

their superiors in coolness, skill, discipline, and self-reliance; and

these qualities may be said to have won the laurels for the American

navy that were conceded to it by all impartial observers.

Besides the victories over the four British ships enumerated, the

Americans had captured the "Alert," and a British transport bearing a

considerable detachment of troops. These achievements, as involving no

bloodshed, may be set off against the captures of the "Nautilus" and

"Vixen" by the British. Of the number of British merchant-vessels

captured, the records are so incomplete that no accurate estimate can

be made. To the naval vessels are accredited forty-six captures among

the enemy's merchant-marine, and this estimate is probably very nearly

accurate. But with the declaration of war, Portsmouth, Salem, New

London, New York, Baltimore, and, indeed, every American seaport,

fitted out fleet privateers to prey upon the enemy's commerce. The

sails of this private armed navy fairly whitened the sea, and few

nights were not illuminated by the flames of some burning prize. As

their chief object was plunder, the aim of the privateers was to get

their prize safely into port; but, when this was impossible, they were

not slow in applying the torch to the captured vessel. The injury they

inflicted upon the enemy was enormous, and the record of their

exploits might well engage the industry of painstaking historians. As

an adjunct to the regular navy, they were of great service in bringing

the war to a happy conclusion.

It is not to be supposed that the British men-of-war and privateers

were idle while the Americans were thus sweeping the seas. More than

one American vessel set sail boldly from some little New England port,

freighted with the ventures of all classes of tradesmen, only to be

snapped up by a rapacious cruiser. But the mercantile marine of the

United States was but small, and offered no such rewards to

enterprising privateers as did the goodly fleets of West-Indiamen that

bore the flag of Great Britain. And so, while the American privateers

were thriving and reaping rich rewards of gold and glory, those of the

British were gradually abandoning privateering in disgust. The

American prize-lists grew so large, that the newspapers commenced the

practice of publishing weekly a list of the enemy's ships taken during

the week past. In Baltimore, Henry Niles, in his paper "The Weekly

Register," robbed "The London Naval Chronicle" of its vainglorious

motto,--

"The winds and seas are Britain's broad domain,

And not a sail but by permission spreads."

This sentiment Niles printed at the head of his weekly list of British

vessels captured by United States vessels,--a bit of satire not often

equalled in the columns of newspapers of to-day.

CHAPTER VII.

THE WAR ON THE LAKES. -- THE ATTACK ON SACKETT'S HARBOR. --

OLIVER HAZARD PERRY ORDERED TO LAKE ERIE. -- THE BATTLE OF

PUT-IN-BAY.

Let us now abandon for a time our consideration of the progress of the

great naval war on the ocean, and turn our attention to a humbler

theatre, in which the drama of battle was proceeding with no less

credit to the American participants, though with less grand and

inspiring accessories. On the great fresh-water lakes which skirt the

northern frontier of the United States, the two warring powers

contended fiercely for the mastery. But there were no desperate duels

between well-matched frigates; nor, indeed, did either the British or

American squadron of the lake station boast a craft of sufficient

armament to be termed a frigate, until the war was nearly at an end.

Barges, gunboats, sloops, schooners, and brigs made up the squadrons

that fought for the possession of the fresh-water seas; and few either

of the jackies of the forecastle or the officers of the quarter-deck

were bred to the regular service. With such forces it could only

happen that the encounters of the foes should be little more than

skirmishes, and that neither in immediate loss of life nor in direct

results should these skirmishes be important. Such, in fact, was the

general character of the hostilities on the lakes, with two noteworthy

exceptions,--Perry's victory at Put-in-Bay, and McDonough's successful

resistance of the British on Lake Champlain.

That the war should invade the usually peaceful waters of Ontario,

Erie, and Champlain, was inevitable from the physical characteristics

of the northern frontier of the United States. Great Britain held

Canada; and an invasion of her enemy's territory from that province

was a military measure, the advisability of which was evident to the

most untaught soldier. No overland expedition could hope to make its

way through the dense forests of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, or the

Adirondack region of New York. But the lakes offered a tempting

opening for invasion. Particularly did the placid, navigable waters of

Lake Champlain, stretching, from the Canada line far into the heart of

New York, invite the invader; while Lakes Erie and Ontario afforded an

opportunity for attacking the Americans on what was then, practically,

their western frontier.

The Americans were not slow in perceiving the dangers that threatened

their north-western frontier, and began to prepare for its defence

most energetically at the first declaration of war. It was a work that

taxed to the utmost the resources of the young country. The shores of

the lakes as far west as Detroit were open to the attacks of the

enemy, and, although part of the territory of the United States, were

really more accessible to the invaders than to the American defenders.

The population was sparse, and the means of transportation very

primitive. Before the days of railroads, canals, or even well-kept

turnpikes, troops, seamen, ordnance, and all munitions of war could

only be transported from the cities on the seacoast by the most

laborious hauling over roads hardly worthy of the name. Nor was the

transportation problem solved during the continuance of the war. When

in May, 1814, the new United States frigate "Superior" lay at her dock

at Sackett's Harbor, her ordnance, stores, and cordage had to be

brought from Oswego Falls, some fifty miles away. A clear water-route

by the Oswego River and the lake offered itself; but Sir James Yeo,

with his squadron, was blockading the mouth of the harbor, and the

chance for blockade-runners was small indeed. To carry the heavy

ordnance and cables overland, was out of the question. The dilemma was

most perplexing, but Yankee ingenuity finally enabled the "Superior"

to get her outfit. The equipment was loaded upon a small fleet of

barges and scows, which a veteran lake captain took to a point sixteen

miles from the blockaded harbor. By sailing by night, and skulking up

creeks and inland water-ways, the transports reached this point

without attracting the attention of the blockading fleet. They had,

however, hardly arrived when news of the enterprise came to the ears

of the British, and an expedition was sent to intercept the Americans,

which expedition the Yankees successfully resisted. The question then

arose as to how the stores were to be taken across the sixteen miles

of marsh and forest that lay between the boats and the navy-yard at

Sackett's Harbor. The cannon and lighter stores were transported on

heavy carts with great difficulty, but there still remained the great

cable. How to move this was a serious question. No cart could bear its

ponderous weight of ninety-six hundred pounds. Again Yankee ingenuity

and pluck came to the rescue. Two hundred men volunteered to carry the

great rope on their shoulders, and in this way it actually was

transported. Along the shore of the little creek the great cable was

stretched out with prodigious labor, and lay there looking like a

gigantic serpent. The two hundred men ranged themselves along the line

at regular intervals, and at a given signal hoisted the burden to

their shoulders. At the word of command, all stepped off briskly

together, and the long line wound along the narrow path through the

forests. They started out cheerily enough, enlivening the work with

songs and jests; but at the end of the first mile all were glad enough

to throw down the load, and loiter a while by the roadside. A few

minutes' rest, and up and on again. Now arms began to ache, and

shoulders to chafe, under the unusual burden; but the march continued

until noon of the next day, when the footsore and weary carriers

marched proudly into Sackett's Harbor, to find sailors and soldiers

assembled to greet them with bands and cannon-firing. In accordance

with the custom of the time, these demonstrations of honor were

supplemented by the opening of a barrel of whiskey, in honor of the

arrival of the cable.

This incident, trivial in itself, is typical of that ingenuity and

fertility of resource, which, more than any thing else, contributed

to the success of the Americans, not only in the lake operations of

the war of 1812, but in every war the nation has since undertaken. But

the advantages gained by Yankee enterprise and ingenuity were,

perhaps, more evident in the operations on Lake Ontario and Lake Erie

than in the operations of the armies, or of the fleets upon the ocean.

The great contest lay more in the rapid building of ships than in

fighting them. At the outset the enemy were better equipped for the

struggle than were the Americans. The Canadian frontier had been

longer settled, and could lend more men to the needs of the nation.

More than this, the route to the ocean by the St. Lawrence River made

it really easier to transport naval stores from far-off Liverpool to

the British naval station on the shores of Lake Ontario, than to carry

like goods across the wooded hills of New York. Nor were the British

altogether without naval resources upon the lakes at the hour when war

was declared. On Lake Erie the English flag waved over the "Royal

George," twenty-two; "Prince Regent," sixteen; "Earl of Moira,"

fourteen; "Gloucester," ten; "Seneca," eight; and "Simcoe," eight.

Opposed to this squadron was but one United States vessel,--the

"Oneida," a man-of-war brig carrying sixteen twenty-four-pound

carronades. On Lake Erie the British had a squadron of six vessels,

carrying in all forty-six guns.

Hostilities opened early on Lake Ontario. For some time before the

formal declaration of war, a desultory warfare had been waged by the

Americans and Canadians about Niagara. Canadian schooners had been

seized on account of alleged violations of the revenue and embargo

regulations of the United States. The resentment of the sufferers was

aroused, and they only awaited a suitable opportunity to retaliate.

The opportunity soon came, in the form of the declaration of war; and

a body of Canadian volunteers attacked eight American schooners, near

the Thousand Isles, and burned two of them.

With the opening of the war, the United States authorities had fixed

upon Sackett's Harbor as the naval station for Lake Ontario. In the

harbor, on the 19th of July, 1812, lay the "Oneida," which had lately

come into port after a short cruise in search of British schooners. At

early dawn of the day mentioned, the lookout reported five ships in

the offing, and a few minutes later hailed the deck, to report them to

be British ships-of-war. The alarm quickly spread over the little

town. Puny though the British fleet would have appeared upon the

ocean, it was of ample power to take the "Oneida" and destroy the

village. Before the villagers fairly understood their peril, a small

boat came scudding into the harbor before the wind. It bore a message

from the British commander, demanding that the "Oneida" and the "Lord

Nelson" (a captured Canadian vessel) be surrendered. Should the

squadron be resisted, he warned the inhabitants that their town should

be burned to the ground.

Commander Woolsey, who commanded the "Oneida," was a United States

officer of the regular service, and a man of courage and fertility of

resource. Unable to take his vessel out into the lake, he moored her

at the entrance of the harbor in such a way that her broadside of nine

guns might be brought to bear on the enemy. All hands then set to work

getting the other broadside battery ashore; and, by the aid of the

villagers, these guns were mounted on a hastily thrown up redoubt on

the shore. At the foot of the main street of the village was planted a

queerly assorted battery. The great gun, on which the hopes of the

Americans centred, was an iron thirty-two-pounder, which had lain for

years deeply embedded in the muddy ooze of the lake-shore, gaining

thereby the derisive name of the "Old Sow." This redoubtable piece of

ordnance was flanked on either side by a brass six-pounder; a pair of

cannon that the Yankee sailors had, with infinite pains and

indomitable perseverance, dredged up from the sunken hulk of a British

war-vessel that had filled a watery grave some years. Two brass

nine-pounders completed this novel armament.

It was about eight o'clock in the morning when the British vessels

came up within range. Alarm guns had been firing from the shore all

the morning; and by that time the village was filled with militiamen,

who flocked to the scene of action. Woolsey, who had taken charge of

the shore-batteries, ordered a shot from the thirty-two pounder. The

"old sow" spoke out bravely, but the shot missing, only roused the

enemy to laughter, which could be heard on shore. The British vessels

then began a vigorous cannonade, keeping well out of range of the

small guns on shore; although so weak were the American defences, that

a vigorous onslaught by the enemy would have quickly reduced the town

to submission. As it was, a harmless fire was kept up for about two

hours. Not a shot took effect, and nothing save the noise and

excitement of the cannonading need have deterred the good people of

Sackett's Harbor from observing that Sunday morning in accordance with

their usual sabbath customs. It was reserved for one shot to put an

end to this strange engagement. Just as the artillerists who served

the iron thirty-two pounder were loading the gun, a cannon-ball struck

the ground near the battery. One of the Americans ran, and, picking up

the spent ball, brought it into the battery, saying, "I've been

playing ball with the redcoats, and have caught them out. Let's see

now if they can catch back again." So saying, he rammed the missile

down the muzzle of the long thirty-two, and sent it back with deadly

aim. The captured ball crashed into the stern of the "Royal George,"

raked her from stem to stern, killing fourteen men, and wounding

eighteen in its course. The marksman, watching the course of his shot,

saw the splinters fly from the deck of the British ship; and the

Americans cheered loudly for the "old sow" as the British squadron put

about, and left the Sackett's Harbor people to celebrate their easily

won victory.

Insignificant though this engagement was, it was the chief battle of

the year on Lake Ontario. The Americans strained every nerve to put

more armed vessels afloat, and, being left unmolested by the British,

managed to have quite a flotilla in commission before winter set its

icy seal upon the lake. In September, Capt. Isaac Chauncey was

appointed commander-in-chief of the lake navy; and, on his arrival, he

proved himself the very man for the place. He rushed ahead the

building of new ships, arranged for the transportation of seamen from

the seacoast to man the vessels on the lakes, and then, not content

with attending only to the building of the ships, took command of the

squadron in commission, and fairly swept the lake clear of the enemy's

vessels. He met with little opposition as the British retired to their

naval station at Kingston, remaining there until all further naval

operations were checked by the ice.

Winter, which seriously impeded the work of the British by putting an

end to navigation upon the St. Lawrence, did away with many of the

difficulties of transportation which had so hampered the Americans.

The roads to the seacoast grew hard, and were soon covered with snow,

over which long teams of oxen plodded to and fro until the path was

well broken. Then began the hauling of supplies from the seaboard.

From his post at Sackett's Harbor, Chauncey sent out requisitions for

ship-timber, cordage, ordnance, and ship-carpenters. Long trains of

heavily laden wagons and sledges wound their way across the State from

New York or Albany to the station at Sackett's Harbor. Agents were

appointed in the seacoast towns to enlist seamen for service on the

lakes,--a work that required no small powers of persuasion; for the

true salt-water jack looks with great disfavor upon the "fish-ponds"

of fresh water. But, by dint of munificent offers of bounties and

prize-money, several hundred sailors were induced to leave their ships

on the ocean, and take service in the infant navy of the lakes.

Most of the sailors were sent across the State in the dead of winter.

The trip was made in huge sleds, drawn by several pairs of horses, and

carrying a score or more men each. The jackies enlivened the journey

with rollicking songs and stories as the sleds sped over the

well-packed roads through the sparsely settled country. One of the

largest parties was accompanied by a brass band, with the aid of which

the sailors made their entrance to the villages along the road in

truly royal style. The sleighs and horses were gayly decked with the

national colors. The band led in the first sleigh, closely followed by

three other sledges, filled with blue-coated men. Before the little

tavern of the town the _cortege_ usually came to a halt; and the tars,

descending, followed up their regulation cheers with demands for grog

and provender. After a halt of an hour or two, the party continued its

way, followed by the admiration of every villager, and the envy of

every boy large enough to have seafaring ambitions.

With all his energy and unswerving fidelity to the cause of his

country, Chauncey probably did nothing of more direct benefit to the

United States than writing a letter to a young naval officer, then

stationed at Newport, asking him to come West and take charge of the

naval operations on Lake Erie. The name of this young officer was

Oliver Hazard Perry, and a year later no name in American history

carried with it more fame.

Hostilities on Lake Erie had been unimportant up to the time that

Chauncey sent for Perry. The Americans had no naval vessel to oppose

to the fleet of Canadian craft that held the lake. One war-vessel

only had shown the American flag on the lake; and she had been fitted

out by the army, and had fallen into the hands of the enemy at the

surrender of Detroit. But this prize was not destined to remain long

in the hands of the Canadians. Early in the autumn of 1812, Chauncey

had sent Lieut. Elliott to Lake Erie, with instructions to begin at

once the creation of a fleet by building or purchasing vessels.

Elliott chose as the site of his improvised navy-yard Black Rock, a

point two miles below Buffalo; and there pushed ahead his work in a

way that soon convinced the enemy, that, unless the young officer's

energy received a check, British supremacy on Lake Erie would soon be

at an end. Accordingly, two armed brigs, the "Caledonia" and the

"Detroit," recently captured by the British, came down to put an end

to the Yankee ship-building. Like most of the enemy's vessels on the

lakes, these two brigs were manned by Canadians, and had not even the

advantage of a regular naval commander.

On the morning of the 8th of October, the sentries on the river-side

at Black Rock discovered the two British vessels lying at anchor under

the guns of Fort Erie, a British work on the opposite side of the

Niagara River, that there flows placidly along, a stream more than a

mile wide. Zealous for distinction, and determined to checkmate the

enemy in their design, Elliott resolved to undertake the task of

cutting out the two vessels from beneath the guns of the British fort.

Fortune favored his enterprise. It happened that on that very day a

detachment of sailors from the ocean had arrived at Black Rock. Though

wearied by their long overland journey, the jackies were ready for the

adventure, but had no weapons. In this dilemma Elliott was forced to

turn for aid to the military authorities, from whom he obtained

pistols, swords, and sabres enough to fit out his sailors for the

fray. With the arms came a number of soldiers and a small party of

adventurous citizens, all of whom enlisted under the leadership of the

adventurous Elliott. In planning the expedition, the great difficulty

lay in getting rid of the too numerous volunteers.

By nightfall, the preparations for the expedition were completed. In

the underbrush that hung over the banks of the river, two large boats

were concealed, ready for the embarkation. At midnight fifty men,

armed to the teeth, silently took their places in each of the great

barges, and pushed out upon the black surface of the river. All along

the bank were crowds of eager watchers, who discussed the chances of

success with bated breath, lest the merest whisper should alarm the

British sentries on the farther shore. With steady strokes of the

muffled oars, the two boats made their way toward the two brigs that

could just be seen outlined against the sky. Elliott, in the first

boat, directed the movements of his men, and restrained the too

enthusiastic. So stealthy was the approach, that the foremost boat was

fairly alongside of the "Detroit" before the British took the alarm.

Then the quick hail of the sentry brought an answering pistol-shot

from Elliott; and, amid volleys of musketry, the assailants clambered

up the sides of the brigs, and with pistol and cutlass drove the

startled crew below. So complete was the surprise, that the British

made but little resistance; and the cables of the brigs were cut,

sails spread, and the vessels under way, before the thunder of a gun

from Fort Erie told that the British on shore had taken the alarm.

At the report of the first shot fired, the dark line of the American

shore suddenly blazed bright with huge beacon fires, while lanterns

and torches were waved from commanding points to guide the adventurous

sailors in their navigation of the captured brigs. But the victors

were not to escape unscathed with their booty. The noise of the

conflict, and the shouts of the Americans on the distant bank of the

river, roused the British officers in the fort, and the guns were soon

trained on the receding vessels. Some field-batteries galloped along

the bank, and soon had their guns in a position whence they could pour

a deadly fire upon the Americans. Nor did the spectators on the New

York side of the river escape unharmed; for the first shot, fired by

the field-battery missed the brigs, but crossed the river and struck

down an American officer. Almost unmanageable in the swift current and

light wind, the two brigs seemed for a time in danger of recapture.

The "Caledonia" was run ashore under the guns of an American battery;

but the "Detroit," after being relieved of the prisoners, and deserted

by her captors, was beached at a point within range of the enemy's

fire. The British made several determined attempts to recapture her,

but were beaten off; and, after a day's fighting around the vessel,

she was set on fire and burned to the water's edge. The "Caledonia,"

however, remained to the Americans, and some months later did good

service against her former owners.

It was shortly after this occurrence that Lieut. Perry offered his

services for the lakes; and four months later he received a letter

from Chauncey, saying, "You are the very person that I want for a

particular service, in which you may gain reputation for yourself, and

honor for your country." This letter was quickly followed by orders

from the Secretary of the Navy to report at once for duty to Chauncey

at Sackett's Harbor. Perry was overjoyed. The dull monotony of his

duties at Newport suited little his ardent nature. He longed for

active service, and an opportunity to win distinction. His opportunity

had at last come; and twenty hours after the receipt of his orders, he

and his thirteen-year-old brother were seated in a sleigh and fairly

started on the long drive across the country. Travelling was a serious

matter in those days, and the journey from Newport to Sackett's Harbor

required twelve days.

On his arrival, Perry found that the special service for which he was

needed was the command of a naval force on Lake Erie. He stopped but a

short time at Sackett's Harbor, and then pressed on to Erie, the base

of the naval operations on the lake of the same name. It was late in

March when Perry arrived; and the signs of spring already showed that

soon the lake would be clear of ice, and the struggle for its control

recommence. The young lieutenant was indefatigable in the labor of

preparation. He urged on the building of vessels already begun. He

arranged for the purchase of merchant schooners, and their conversion

into gunboats. He went to Pittsburg for supplies, and made a flying

trip to Buffalo to join Chauncey in an attack upon Fort George at the

mouth of the Niagara River. All the time, he managed to keep up a

constant fire of letters to the Secretary of the Navy and to Chauncey,

begging for more sailors. By summertime, he had five vessels ready for

service, but no men to man them. The enemy blockaded him, and he dared

not accept the challenge. In July he wrote to Chauncey: "The enemy's

fleet of six sail are now off the bar of this harbor. What a golden

opportunity if we had men!... Give me men, sir, and I will acquire

both for you and myself honor and glory on this lake, or perish in the

attempt." Again he wrote: "For God's sake, and yours and mine, send me

men and officers; and I will have them all [the British squadron] in a

day or two." When the men finally did arrive, he was much disgusted

with their appearance, pronouncing them to be "a motley set,--blacks,

soldiers, and boys." Nevertheless, this same motley crew, headed by

the critical young officer, won a victory that effectually crushed the

pretensions of the enemy to the control of Lake Erie.

[Illustration: Perry's Recruits.]

His crews having arrived, Perry was anxious to get out upon the lake,

and engage the enemy at once. But this course of action was for a long

time impossible. The flotilla lay snugly anchored within the harbor of

Erie, the entrance to which was closed by a bar. To cross this bar,

the ships would have been obliged to send all heavy ordnance ashore;

and, as the enemy kept close watch outside the harbor, the American

fleet was practically blockaded. For several weeks the Americans were

thus kept prisoners, grumbling mightily at their enforced inaction,

and longing for a chance to get at the enemy. One morning in August

word was brought to Perry that the blockading fleet had disappeared.

Instantly all was life and bustle in the harbor. The crews of all the

vessels were ordered aboard; and the flotilla dropped down to the bar,

intending to cross early in the morning. At dawn the movement was

begun. The schooners and other small craft were easily taken outside;

but, when it came to the turn of the two gun-brigs, "Lawrence" and

"Niagara," it became evident that mechanical assistance was required.

Accordingly, a powerful "camel" was hastily improvised, by the aid of

which the two vessels were dragged across the bar. Hardly had the

second brig made the passage in safety, when the British fleet

appeared in the offing. Tradition says that the opportune absence of

the enemy's fleet was caused by a public banquet to which the citizens

of Port Dover had invited Commodore Barclay and his officers. While

the dinner was going merrily on, the Americans were hard at work,

escaping from the trap in which the British had left them. In

responding to a toast at the banquet, Barclay said, "I expect to find

the Yankee brigs hard and fast on the bar at Erie when I return, in

which predicament it will be but a small job to destroy them." His

anticipations were not realized; for, on his arrival, he found the

entire squadron safely floating in the deep water outside the bar.

Had Barclay but known it, he would even then have found it "but a

small job to destroy them;" for the two brigs, having been stripped of

their ordnance, would have been easy prey for the British squadron.

But Perry's bold action in sending forward two schooners to engage the

enemy seemed to alarm the too prudent commodore; and the British bore

away, and were soon out of sight.

By night Perry's flotilla was in readiness for cruising, and set out

immediately in pursuit of the foe. Barclay seemed to avoid the

conflict; and, after some weeks' cruising, the Americans cast anchor

at Put-in-Bay, and awaited there the appearance of the enemy.

The little flotilla that lay anchored on the placid waters of the

picturesque bay consisted of nine vessels, ranging in size from the

"Trippe," a puny sloop carrying one gun, to the "Lawrence" and

"Niagara," brigs carrying each two long twelves and eighteen short

thirty-twos. No very formidable armada was that of a handful of pygmy

vessels, commanded by a young officer who had never heard the

thunderous cannonade of a naval battle, or seen the decks of his ships

stained with the blood of friends and daily companions. Yet the work

of the little squadron saved the United States from invasion, won for

the young commander a never-dying fame, and clothed the vine-clad

hills, the pebbly beaches, and the crystal waters of Put-in-Bay with a

wealth of proud, historical associations.

[Illustration: Drilling The Raw Recruits.]

Day after day the vessels lay idly at their anchorage, and the sailors

grew restless at the long inactivity. Perry alone was patient; for to

him had come the knowledge that the hostile fleet was getting short of

supplies, and would soon be starved out of its retreat at Malden.

Knowing this, he spared no pains to get his men into training for the

coming conflict. They were exercised daily at the great guns, and put

through severe drills in the use of the cutlass, in boarding, and

repelling boarders. By constant drill and severe discipline, Perry had

made of the motley crew sent him a well-drilled body of seamen, every

man of whom had become fired with the enthusiasm of his commander.

As the time passed, and the day of battle drew nearer, Perry's

confidence in his men increased; and he looked upon the coming

conflict as one certain to bring glory to his country. At early dawn

the jackies on the ships could see the slender form of their commander

perched upon the craggy heights of one of the islands, called to this

day "Perry's Lookout," eagerly scanning the horizon in the direction

of Malden. On the night of Sept. 9, 1813, the commodore felt convinced

that on the next day the British would come out to battle.

Accordingly, a conference of captains was called in the cabin of the

flag-ship, and each received directions as to his course of action

during the fight. They were urged to force the fighting to close

quarters. Said Perry, "Nelson has expressed my idea in the words, 'If

you lay your enemy alongside, you cannot be out of your place.'" As

the officers were about to depart, Perry drew from a locker a large,

square blue flag, on which appeared, in white letters, the dying words

of the gallant Lawrence, "DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP!" "This," said Perry,

"shall be the signal for action; and when it appears at the masthead,

remember your instructions." The conference then ended; and the

captains returned to their ships across the bay, silvered by the light

of the moon, to spend the greater part of the night in preparations

for the great danger of the coming day.

Morning dawned bright and clear, with a light breeze blowing, that

broke into ripples the surface of the land-locked bay. The rosy light

of the rising sun was just reddening the eastern horizon, when, from

the lookout in the foretop of the "Lawrence," came the long-drawn hail

of "Sail, ho!" quickly repeated from the other vessels.

Perry was already on deck. "What does it look like?" he shouted to the

lookout.

"A clump of square rigged, and fore and afters, sir," was the

response.

In a few minutes the signals "Enemy in sight," and "Get under way,"

were flying from the masthead of the flag-ship; and the merry piping

of the boatswains' whistles, and the measured tramp of the sailors

around the capstans, told that signals were observed, and were being

obeyed.

The fleet was soon threading its way through the narrow channels,

filled with islands, at the entrance to the bay, and finally came into

line on the open lake. Not a cloud was in the sky. The lake was calm,

with enough wind blowing to admit of manoeuvring, yet gentle enough to

be of advantage to the schooners that made up the greater part of each

fleet.

For some time the Americans held back, manoeuvring to get the

weather-gauge; but Perry's impatience for the fray got the better of

his caution, and he determined to close at once. His first officer

remonstrated, saying, "Then you'll have to engage the enemy to

leeward."

"I don't care," responded the commodore. "Leeward or windward, they

shall fight to-day." Then, turning to the quartermaster, he called for

the battle-flag, which being brought, he mustered the crew aft, and

addressed them briefly, telling them of the task before them, and

urging them to fight bravely for the victory. "My brave lads," he

concluded, "this flag bears the last words of Capt. Lawrence. Shall I

hoist it?"

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried the jackies, in unison; and, as the flag was

swiftly run to the masthead, the cheers of the sailors on the deck of

the "Lawrence" were echoed from the neighboring vessels, as the white

letters showed boldly against the blue flag, bearing to each commander

the exhortation, "Don't give up the ship!"

The battle-signal being thus displayed, the vessels moved onward to

the attack. As the crew of the "Lawrence" stood at their guns, the

cooks passed along the decks, handing to each man a bit of food, that

his strength might not leave him in the coming struggle. Then followed

boys with boxes of sand, which they strewed upon the decks, to afford

a firm foothold for the men at the guns. The hammocks were stowed

along the nettings, to serve as some little protection against flying

shot. The men stood silent and pale at their quarters, each occupied

with his own grave thoughts, but all determined to fight like brave

men and true for the honor of the flag. By Perry's side stood his

brother, a boy thirteen years old, armed and ready to do his duty as

well as the older men.

The British came on gallantly. Barclay had lost all his diffidence,

and brought up his vessels like a veteran. His ships were kept close

together; the ship "Detroit" under short sail, that the pygmy sloop

"Little Belt" might not be left in the rear. The Americans came down

in single file, headed by the schooner "Scorpion." Suddenly through

the still air rang out the sharp notes of a bugle-call on the enemy's

flag-ship. It was the signal for action; and, as the last notes died

away, the bands struck up "Rule, Britannia." The Americans answered

with cheers; and in the midst of the cheering, a jet of smoke and fire

spurted from the side of the "Detroit," and a heavy shot splashed into

the water near the "Lawrence," while a dull, heavy report came booming

over the water.

The battle was opened, but five minutes elapsed before a second shot

was fired. When it did come, it crashed through the bulwarks of the

"Lawrence," and sped across her deck, doing no great damage. "Steady,

lads, steady," cried Perry, from his post on the quarter-deck, as he

saw an uneasy stir among his men, who longed to return the fire. The

commodore was determined to fight at close quarters, and hung out

signals for each ship to choose its antagonist, and fight the fight

out for itself.

It was then high noon, and the battle soon became general. The little

schooners "Scorpion" and "Ariel" pluckily kept their place in the van

of the American line, but the fire of the enemy fell most fiercely

upon the flag-ship "Lawrence." No less than four vessels at one time

were grouped about the "Lawrence," pouring in a destructive fire, and

bent upon destroying the flag-ship and her brave commander; then

taking the smaller vessels in detail. The "Lawrence" fought bravely,

but the odds were too great. The carronades with which she was armed

were no match for the long guns of her adversaries. For two hours the

unequal combat raged, and no American vessel came to the aid of the

sorely smitten flag-ship. Amid the hail of cannon-balls and bullets,

Perry seemed to bear a charmed life. He saw his officers and men

falling all about him. John Brooks, the lieutenant of marines, fought

by the commodore's side. While speaking cheerfully to the commodore, a

cannon-ball struck the young lieutenant on the hip, dashing him across

the deck against the bulwark, and mutilating him so, that he plead

piteously with Perry, imploring that he might be put out of his misery

with a pistol-shot. From this awful spectacle Perry turned to speak to

the captain of a gun, when the conversation was abruptly cut short by

a shot which killed the seaman instantly. Perry returned to the

quarter-deck. The first lieutenant came rushing up, his face bloody,

and his nose swelled to an enormous size from a splinter which had

perforated it. "All the officers in my division are killed," he cried.

"For God's sake, give me more!" Perry sent some men to his aid; but

they soon fell, and the cry for more men arose again. One of the

surgeons who served in the cock-pit on that dreadful day states, that,

in the midst of the roar of battle, Perry's voice was heard calling

down the hatchway, and asking any surgeon's mates who could be spared,

to come on deck and help work the guns. Several went up; but the

appeal was soon repeated, and more responded. When no more men could

be obtained, the voice of the commodore took a pleading tone. "Can any

of the wounded pull a rope?" said he; and such was his ascendency over

the men, that several poor mangled fellows dragged themselves on deck,

and lent their feeble strength to the working of the guns.

[Illustration: Commodore Perry At The Battle Of Lake Erie.]

Amid all the carnage, the sailors were quick to notice the lighter

incidents of the fray. Even the cock-pit, filled with the wounded, and

reeking with blood that dripped through the cracks in the deck above,

once resounded with laughter as hearty as ever greeted a middy's

after-dinner joke in the steerage. Lieut. Yarnall received a bad

scalp-wound, which fairly drenched his face with blood. As he groped

his way towards the cock-pit he passed a lot of hammocks stuffed with

"cat-tails" which had been stowed on the bulwarks. The feathery down

of the "cat-tails" filled the air, and settled thick upon the head and

face of the officer, robbing his countenance of all semblance to a

human face. As he descended the ladder to the cock-pit, his owl-like

air roused the wounded to great shouts of laughter. "The Devil has

come among us," they cried.

[Illustration: Perry's Victory--the Battle Of Lake Erie. September 10,

1813 Copyright, 1893, By C. Klackner.]

While talking to his little brother, Perry to his horror saw the lad

fall at his feet, dashed to the deck by an unseen missile. The

commodore's agony may be imagined; but it was soon assuaged, for the

boy was only stunned, and was soon fighting again at his post. The

second lieutenant was struck by a spent grape-shot, and fell stunned

upon the deck. He lay there for a time, unnoticed. Perry raised him

up, telling him he was not hurt, as no blood could be seen. The

lieutenant put his hand to his clothing, at the point where the blow

had fallen, and discovered the shot lodged in his coat. Coolly putting

it in his pocket, he remarked, "You are right: I am not hurt. But this

is my shot," and forthwith returned to his duty.

It was a strange-looking body of men that fought at the guns of the

"Lawrence." Lean, angular Yankee sailors from the seafaring

communities of New England stood by the side of swarthy negroes, who,

with their half-naked black bodies, in the dense powder-smoke, seemed

like fiends in pandemonium. In the rigging were stationed a number of

Kentucky riflemen, who had volunteered to serve during the battle. The

buckskin shirts and leggings gave an air of incongruity to their

presence on a man-of-war. Their unerring rifles, however, did brave

service for the cause of the stars and stripes. At the opening of the

action, two tall Indians, decked in all the savage finery of war-paint

and feathers, strode the deck proudly. But water is not the Indian's

element, and the battle had hardly begun when one fled below in

terror; the other remained on deck, and was killed early in the

action.

[Illustration: Making Ready To Leave The "Lawrence."]

Courageous and self-confident though the American commander was, the

moment came when he could no longer disguise the fact that his gallant

flag-ship was doomed to destruction before the continuous and deadly

fire of her adversaries. There was but one course of action open, and

upon this he determined at once. He would transfer his flag to the

"Niagara," and from the deck of that vessel direct the movements of

his fleet. Accordingly, the only uninjured boat of the "Lawrence" was

lowered; and Perry sprang into the stern, followed by his little

brother. Before the boat pushed off, the battle-flag was thrown into

her; and, wrapping it about him, Perry took a standing position in the

stern, and ordered the oarsmen to give way. He steered straight for

the "Niagara," through the very centre of the fight. The enemy quickly

grasped the purpose of the movement, and great guns and muskets were

trained on the little boat. Shot of all sizes splashed in the water

about the boat, splintered the oars, and buried themselves in the

gunwale. The crew begged their commander to sit down, and make himself

a less conspicuous target for the fire of the enemy; but Perry paid

but little attention to their entreaties. Suddenly the men rested on

the oars, and the boat stopped. Angrily the commodore demanded the

cause of the stoppage, and was told that the men refused to row unless

he sat down. With a smile he yielded, and soon the boat was alongside

the "Niagara." Perry sprang to the deck, followed by his boat's crew

and a plucky sailor who had swum just behind the boat across the long

stretch of water. Hardly a glance did the commodore cast at the ship

which he had left, but bent all his faculties to taking the new

flag-ship into the battle.

The "Niagara" was practically a fresh ship; for, up to this time, she

had held strangely aloof from the battle. Now all was to be changed.

The battle-flag went to her masthead; and she plunged into the thick

of the fight, striking thunderous blows at every ship she encountered.

As she passed the American lines, the sailors greeted with cheers

their gallant commander. The crippled "Lawrence," an almost helpless

hulk, left far behind, was forced to strike her flag; although her

crew protested loudly, crying out, "Sink the ship, and let us go down

with her." But the conquered vessel was not destined to fall into the

hands of her enemies. Already the sight of their commodore on a fresh

vessel stimulated the American tars; so that in half an hour the

British line was broken, their ships cut to pieces, and the "Detroit,"

their flag-ship, a prize to the "Niagara." A white handkerchief was

waved at the end of a pike by one of the crew of the "Princess

Charlotte." The firing stopped, the flag was again run up to the

masthead of the "Lawrence," while a few feeble cheers came faintly

over the water from the remnant of her crew.

The dense clouds of smoke blowing away, Perry saw, by the disposition

of his squadron, that the victory was secure. Hastily catching off his

navy-cap, he laid upon it a sheet of paper torn from an old letter,

and wrote to Gen. Harrison the famous despatch, "_We have met the

enemy, and they are ours,--two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one

sloop._"

Then, with true chivalry, he determined that to his flag-ship

"Lawrence," that had so stoutly borne the brunt of battle, should

belong the honor of receiving the British captains, when they came to

surrender their vessels. He returned to the "Lawrence;" but the scene

there was such that even the excitement of victory could raise no

feelings of exultation in his breast. He saw on every side the bodies

of officers with whom, but the night before, he had dined in perfect

health. The decks were red with blood, and from the cock-pit arose

the groans of the wounded.

After the formal surrender, to make which the officers picked their

way over the deck covered with slain to the quarter-deck, the work of

burying the dead of both squadrons was begun. It was about sundown

that the sad ceremonies were held; and, as the deep tones of the

chaplains reading the burial service arose upon the evening air, the

dull, mournful splashing of heavy bodies in the water told that the

last scene in the great victory was drawing to an end.

CHAPTER VIII.

ON THE OCEAN. -- THE "HORNET" SINKS THE "PEACOCK." -- THE

BLOCKADE. -- ADVENTURES OF THE "SALLY." -- HOSTILITIES ON

CHESAPEAKE BAY. -- THE CRUISE OF THE "PRESIDENT."

The year 1813, that brought to American sailors upon the lakes such

well-earned laurels, opened auspiciously for the stars and stripes

upon the ocean. It will be remembered that the "Constitution," while

on the cruise in the South Atlantic that ended with the destruction of

the "Java," had left the "Hornet" off San Salvador, blockading the

British ship "Bonne Citoyenne." For eighteen days the "Hornet"

remained at her post. Her captain continually urged the enemy to come

out and give him battle, but to no avail. The remembrance of his

valuable cargo deterred the Englishman, and he remained snug in his

harbor. Months after, when the occurrence became known in the United

States, an unreasoning outcry was raised against the commander of the

"Bonne Citoyenne" for thus avoiding the conflict; but naval men have

always agreed that his action was wise and commendable.

After eighteen days' service on this blockade, the "Hornet" saw a

British seventy-four bearing down upon her, bent upon releasing the

treasure-ship. Against such odds it would have been folly to contend;

and the Americans, taking advantage of a dark night, slipped away,

and were soon beyond pursuit. The vessel continued her cruise in the

waters south of the equator, meeting with good fortune, and taking

many valuable prizes, from one of which twenty-three thousand dollars

in specie were taken. But her cruise was not destined to proceed

without serious opposition.

On the 24th of February, as the "Hornet" was giving close chase to a

suspicious brig near the mouth of the Demarara River, a second

stranger was sighted in the offing. Giving no heed to the newly

sighted vessel, the "Hornet" continued her chase until the rapidly

approaching vessel was clearly made out to be a brig, flying the

British flag, and evidently a man-of-war. The "Hornet" was immediately

cleared for action; and the two hostile vessels began manoeuvring for

the weather-gage, as two scientific pugilists spar cautiously for an

opening. In this contest of seamanship, Capt. Lawrence of the "Hornet"

proved the victor; and a little after five o'clock in the afternoon,

the two enemies stood for each other upon the wind, the "Hornet"

having the weather-gage. As they rapidly neared each other, no sound

was heard save the creaking of the cordage, and the dashing of the

waves against the vessels' hulls. Not a shot was fired until the

enemies were dashing past each other, going in opposite directions.

The first broadsides were exchanged at half pistol-shot, with very

unequal effects. The shot of the "Hornet" penetrated the hull of her

antagonist, doing terrible execution; while the broadside let fly by

the "Peacock" whistled through the rigging of the American ship,

cutting away the pennant, and killing a topman, who was struck by a

round shot, and dashed from his station in the mizzen-top, to fall

mangled and lifeless into the sea.

Hardly were the ships clear, when the British captain put his helm

hard up,--a manoeuvre executed with the intention of securing a raking

position. But the plan was balked by the cool seamanship of Capt.

Lawrence, who quickly followed up the British vessel, and, getting a

position on his quarter, poured in so rapid and accurate a fire that

the enemy was fain to haul down his colors and confess defeat. The

British ensign had hardly touched the deck, when it was run up again,

with the union down, as a token of distress. At this sight, the Yankee

tars, who had been cheering lustily over their quickly won victory,

stopped their rejoicings, and set about giving assistance to the

injured Britons with as hearty good-will as they had lately shown in

their vigorous cannonade.

With all possible despatch, a boat was lowered, and Lieut. Shubrick

proceeded on board the prize. He found the "Peacock" a complete wreck.

Shortly after the surrender her main-mast had gone by the board, and

her hull was fairly honeycombed with shot-holes. Returning to his

ship, Shubrick reported the condition of the prize. He was immediately

ordered to return to the "Peacock," and make every effort to save her.

Accompanied by three boats' crews of American sailors, he again

boarded the sinking ship, and bent every energy to the attempt for her

salvation. Bulwarks were cut away, and the heavy guns were rolled out

of the gaps thus made, and cast into the sea. Deep down in the hold,

and swinging like spiders over the sides of the vessels, sailors tried

to stop up with felt-covered blocks of wood the great holes through

which the water was pouring. All the time boats were plying between

the sinking vessel and the "Hornet," transferring the wounded and the

prisoners. Twilight fell before the work was ended, and it became

evident to all that the "Peacock" must sink during the night. But the

end came even quicker than had been expected. Some new rent must have

opened in the brig's side; for, with a sudden lurch, she commenced to

sink rapidly, bow foremost. Several of the English crew were below,

searching for liquor; and, caught by the inpouring flood, they found a

watery grave in the sinking hulk. Three Americans were also ingulfed;

and five narrowly escaped death by climbing up the rigging to the

foretop, which remained above water when the hull rested upon the

bottom. In the midst of the excitement and confusion, four British

seamen slyly clambered out of the cabin-windows, and, dropping into a

boat that was made fast to the stern, made off in the darkness. The

Americans, eagerly watching the sinking ship, did not detect the

fugitives until the boat was far beyond the possibility of recapture.

The vessel so quickly destroyed by the "Hornet" was the British

man-of-war brig "Peacock," mounting ten guns, and carrying a crew of

two hundred and ten men. In one respect, she was a model ship. Among

naval men, she had long been known as "the yacht," on account of the

appearance of exquisite neatness she always presented. Her decks were

as white as lime-juice and constant holystoning could keep them. The

brasswork about the cabins and the breeches of the guns was dazzling

in its brilliancy. White canvas lined the breechings of the

carronades. Her decks everywhere showed signs of constant toil in the

cause of cleanliness. The result of the battle, however, seemed to

indicate that Capt. Peakes had erred, in that, while his ship was

perfect, his men were bad marksmen, and poorly disciplined. While

their shot were harmlessly passing through the rigging of the

"Hornet," the Americans were pouring in well-directed broadsides, that

killed and wounded thirty-eight men, and ended the action in fifteen

minutes. The Americans lost but one man in the fight, though three

more went down in the sinking prize.

Capt. Lawrence now found himself far from home, short of water, and

crowded with prisoners. For a time, he feared that to these evils was

to be added a second action, while his crew was still fatigued with

the labors of the first. During the battle with the "Peacock," a

second British man-of-war brig, the "Espiegle," lay quietly at anchor

only four miles away. Why she had not joined in the strife, has never

been explained. She was clearly visible from the tops of the "Hornet"

throughout the action, and Lawrence expected every moment to see her

bear down to the assistance of her consort. But she made no movement;

and even after the fight ended, and the "Peacock" lay on the bottom of

the ocean, the mysterious stranger awoke not from her lethargy. Not

wishing to engage a second adversary while his ship was crowded with

prisoners, Lawrence immediately left the scene of action, and laid his

course for home. The homeward voyage was rapid and uneventful. No

pains were spared to secure the comfort of the prisoners who crowded

the ship. The British officers were treated with the greatest

consideration; so that, as one said on quitting the ship, they "ceased

to consider themselves as captives." The tars, who were consigned to

the care of the blue-jackets in the forecastle, were met with less

courtesy, but certainly with no less good feeling. They were not

spared an occasional taunt or triumphant joke; but when it was learned

that by the sinking of their ship the Britons had lost all their

"toggery," the "Hornet's" lads turned to, and soon collected clothing

enough to fit out each prisoner with a respectable kit.

It was the middle of March before the long, homeward voyage was

ended, and the anchor was dropped in the snug harbor of Holmes's Hole

in the island of Martha's Vineyard. The usual rejoicings followed the

news of the victory. Lawrence was the hero of the hour; and songs

innumerable appeared in the newspapers, extolling the courage and

devotion of the brave lads of the "Hornet."

Indeed, the arrival of the "Hornet" with her glorious news came at an

opportune moment, to cheer the spirits of the American people. The war

had begun to assume a serious aspect. Continued reverses on the ocean

had roused the British ministry to the fact that they were dealing

with no contemptible enemy, and the word had gone forth that the

Americans must be crushed into submission. Troops were hurriedly sent

to Canada, and all the vessels that could be spared were ordered to

the coast of the United States. The English had determined upon that

most effective of all hostile measures,--a rigorous blockade of their

enemy's coast. Up and down the coast from New Jersey to the Carolinas,

British frigates and sloops kept up a constant patrol. Chesapeake Bay

was their chief rendezvous; and the exploits of the blockading

squadron stationed there, under Admiral Cockburn, led often to scenes

more befitting savage warfare then the hostilities of two enlightened

and civilized peoples. On the New England coast, the blockade was less

severely enforced. The people of that section had been loud in their

denunciations of the war; and the British hoped, by a display of

moderation, to seduce the New Englanders from their allegiance to the

United States,--a hope that failed utterly of fulfilment. Even had the

British desired to enforce the blockade along the New England shore,

the character of the coast, and the skill and shrewdness of the Yankee

skippers, would have made the task of the blockaders a most difficult

one.

The annals of the little seafaring-villages along the coast of Maine

and Massachusetts abound in anecdotes of hardy skippers who outwitted

the watchful British, and ran their little schooners or sloops into

port under the very guns of a blockading man-of-war.

Among the blockade-runners of the New England coast, Capt. Dan Fernald

of Portsmouth stood foremost. When a shipload of Maine timber was

needed at the Portsmouth navy-yard, to be converted into a new

man-of-war, to Capt. Fernald was assigned the task of bringing it down

from Portland past the British frigates, that were ever on the watch

for just such cargoes. When the preparations for the building of the

seventy-four-gun ship "Washington" were making at the navy-yard, Capt.

Fernald was sent to Portsmouth for a load of ship's-timber. His cargo

was to consist of forty-eight "knees" and the breast-hook of the

seventy-four. Loaded down with this burden, the schooner "Sally" left

Portland, and headed for her destination. Caution led her captain to

keep his craft close to the shore, and for a day or two she crept

along the coast without being discovered. But head-winds and calms

delayed the "Sally," and on her fourth day out she was sighted by the

British frigate "Tenedos." The "Sally" was not an imposing craft, and

under ordinary circumstances she might have been allowed to proceed

unmolested; but on this occasion a number of the oaken knees for the

new war-vessel were piled on the deck, and the British captain could

clearly make out, through his glasses, that the "Sally" was laden with

contraband of war. Accordingly, he set out in hot pursuit, in the full

expectation of overhauling the audacious coaster. Capt. Fernald,

however, had no idea of letting his schooner fall into the hands of

the British. He was a wily old skipper, and knew every nook and corner

of the Maine and New Hampshire coasts better than he knew the streets

of his native village. Apparently unmoved by the pursuit of the

man-of-war, he stood at the tiller, and, beyond ordering his crew to

shake out the reefs in the sails, seemed to make no great attempt to

elude the enemy. But soon the crew noticed that the skipper was taking

his schooner rather dangerously close to the shore; and a cry came

from a sailor on the bow, that the "Sally" was ploughing through the

kelp, and would soon be on the rocks.

"No matter," sung out the captain; "just heave over a few of them

knees, and I guess she'll float clear."

Overboard went a dozen heavy timbers, and the "Sally" sailed smoothly

on over the rocks. Then the captain glanced back over his shoulder,

and chuckled slyly as the majestic frigate, following closely in his

track, brought up all of a sudden on the rocks, and was quickly left a

fixture by the receding tide. The exasperated Englishman sent two

eighteen-pound shot skipping over the water after the "Sally," but

without effect. One shot buried itself in the sand of the beach; and

Capt. Fernald, after picking up the knees that had been thrown

overboard, coolly went ashore, dug up the ball, and carried it away as

a trophy. He reached his moorings at the navy-yard safely, and was

warmly greeted by Commodore Hull, who asked if the "Sally" had been

fired upon; and, on being presented with the eighteen-pound shot for a

token, exclaimed, "You are a good fellow, and stand fire well."

The "Tenedos" came not so luckily out of the adventure. By the time a

flood tide lifted her clear of the reef, the jagged points of the

rocks had pierced her hull, so that she leaked badly, and was forced

to go to Halifax for repairs.

One more adventure in which the "Sally" and her wily captain figured

is worth recounting. Again the dingy schooner was edging her way along

the rugged shore, bound for the Portsmouth navy-yard. No vessel could

have seemed more harmless. Her patched and dirty canvas was held in

place by oft-spliced ropes and rigging none too taut. Her bluff bows

butted away the waves in clouds of spray, that dashed over the decks,

which seldom received other washing. Her cargo seemed to be cord-wood,

neatly split, and piled high on deck. While off Casco, the wind

dropped down, and the "Sally" was left floating idly upon the glassy

ocean. Far in the distance lay an English man-o'-war, also becalmed;

but from which a long-boat, stoutly manned, soon put out, and made for

the becalmed schooner. The boat was soon within hail, and a trim young

officer in the stern-sheets sung out,--

"What craft's that?"

"Schooner 'Sally' of Portsmouth," came the answer, in the drawling

tones of a down-east skipper.

"Where from?"

"Portland."

"Where bound?"

"Portsmouth."

"What's your cargo."

"Firewood," responded Capt. Fernald with a carelessness he was far

from feeling; for deep down in the hold, under the cord-wood, were two

twenty-four-pounder cannon, thirteen thousand pounds of powder, and

about one hundred boarding pikes and cutlasses.

The British officer hesitated a moment, as if the little coaster was

of too little importance for further examination.

"Well, I think I'll come aboard," said he carelessly, and soon stood

with three or four of his men on the deck of the "Sally."

After glancing contemptuously about the ill-kept decks, he turned to

his men with the sharp order: "Clear away some of that wood from the

hatchways, and see what's in the hold."

The men set to work, passing the cord-wood away from the hatch ways,

and piling it upon the after-deck. Soon they had worked their way into

the hold, and were going deeper and deeper down toward the munitions

of war. Capt. Fernald's blood seemed to stop coursing in his veins. He

knew that but one layer of cord-wood then lay above the cannon, and he

expected every instant to see the black iron uncovered. But the

British officer grew impatient.

"That's enough of that work," said he; "there's nothing but wood

there. Captain, you can proceed on your course."

A momentary murmur arose from the English sailors. The "Sally" was

theirs by right of capture, and they saw no reason for her liberation.

"Why, lads," said the officer, "it would cost just as much to get this

poor fellow's wood-schooner condemned as it would a large ship. As for

the prize-money, it would not make a penny apiece." So, tumbling into

their boat, the jackies pulled away; shouting to the captain of the

"Sally" to stow his cargo again, or his old tub would capsize. Capt.

Fernald took their jeers good-naturedly, for he was the victor in that

encounter.

The occurrence had been observed from the shore; and, when the British

sailors were seen swarming over the side of the "Sally," a horse-man

set off for Portsmouth to notify Commodore Hull that the schooner was

captured. It was a sore blow; for the guns and powder were thought to

be lost, and munitions of war were hard to be had at that time. But

Hull soon threw aside the disappointment, and was busily engaged with

plans for the vessels then building, when a sentry came in, and

reported the "Sally" in sight. Hull rushed to the water-side. Sure

enough, there came the battered old schooner, butting her way through

the waves of the channel; and, before long, the two cannon were safe

in the storehouses, while Capt. Fernald found himself vested with a

reputation for almost superhuman sagacity and luck.

Not all the encounters between the blockaders and the blockade-runners

terminated so happily for the Americans. Many a coasting-vessel was

sent to Halifax to swell the coffers of the British prize-courts, or,

after being set on fire, was left to lie charred and ruined upon the

rocky shore, as a warning to all who violated the blockade.

The capture of one United States war-vessel graced the English naval

annals of January, 1813; for the little brig "Viper," carrying twelve

guns, fell in the way of the British, thirty-two, "Narcissus," and

straightway surrendered to the overwhelming force of her enemy.

Among the United States war-vessels caught and held in port by the

blockade was the frigate "Constellation." She was at the opening of

the war the favorite ship of the American navy; her exploits in the

war with France having endeared her to the American people, and won

for her among Frenchmen the name of "the Yankee race-horse."

Notwithstanding her reputation for speed, she is said to have been

very crank, and had an awkward way of getting on her beam-ends without

much provocation. An almost incredible tale is told of her getting

"knocked down" by a squall while chasing a French privateer, and,

notwithstanding the delay, finally overhauling and capturing the

chase.

When war was declared with England, the "Constellation" was so

thoroughly dismantled, that some months were occupied in refitting

before she was ready to put to sea. In January, 1813, she dropped

anchor in Hampton Roads, expecting to set out on an extended cruise

the next morning. Had she been a day earlier, her career in the War of

1812 might have added new lustre to her glorious record in the war

with France; but the lack of that day condemned her to inglorious

inactivity throughout the war: for on that very night a British

squadron of line-of-battle ships and frigates dropped anchor a few

miles down the bay, and the "Constellation" was fairly trapped.

When, by the gray light of early morning, the lookout on the

"Constellation" saw the British fleet lying quietly at their anchorage

down the bay, he reported to Capt. Stewart; and the latter saw that,

for a time, he must be content to remain in port. Stewart's reputation

for bravery and devotion to his country leaves no doubt that the

prospect of prolonged idleness was most distasteful to him. But he had

little time to mourn over his disappointment. The position of the

frigate was one of great danger. At any moment she might be exposed to

attack by the hostile fleet. Accordingly, she dropped down abreast of

Craney Island, where she was secure from attack by the British

vessels, but still open to the assaults of their boats.

To meet this danger, Capt. Stewart took the most elaborate

precautions. His ship was anchored in the middle of the narrow

channel; and on either side were anchored seven gunboats, officered

and manned by the men of the frigate. Around the gunboats and frigate

extended a vast circle of floating logs, linked together by heavy

chains, that no boarders might come alongside the vessels. The great

frigate towered high above the surrounding gunboats, her black sides

unbroken by an open port; for the gun-deck ports were lashed down, and

the guns housed. Not a rope's end was permitted to hang over the side;

the stern ladders were removed, and the gangway cleats knocked off. An

enemy might as well hope to scale the unbroken front of a massive wall

of masonry, as that dark, forbidding hull. From the bulwarks rose on

all sides, to the ends of the yards, a huge net made of ratlin stuff,

boiled in pitch until it would turn the edge of a cutlass, and further

strengthened by nail-rods and small chains. The upper part of the

netting was weighted with kentledge, the pigs of iron used for

ballast; so that, should the hardy assailants succeed in coming

alongside and scaling the side, a few blows of an axe would let fall

the heavily weighted nettings, sweeping the boarders into the sea, and

covering boats and men with an impenetrable mesh, under which they

would be at the mercy of the sailors on the frigate's decks. The

carronades and howitzers were loaded with grape; and the officers and

men felt that only bravery on their part was essential to the defeat

of any force that Great Britain could send against the ship.