navy before Tripoli and with the rest of the Barbary powers, the
government and the people showed very little understanding of the
value of the naval service. As soon as hostilities were over with
the corsairs, a reduction of the navy took place, although at that
very time aggressions of Great Britain upon American merchant ships
were continuing at a rate which was bound to provoke war in the end.
Bainbridge, like many others, found himself without a ship, and on
half-pay; and he asked and obtained leave, during the intervals when he
was without a naval command, to make voyages in the merchant service.
He was absent on one of these voyages for profit in the autumn of 1811,
when at St. Petersburg he heard of the probability of a declaration
of war with Great Britain. He started instantly on his return to the
United States, and reached Washington in February, 1812. He found there
one of Commodore Preble's captains, Charles Stewart,[3] and to his
rage and mortification was told that the government thought it vain
and foolhardy to give battle on the sea to the mightiest naval power
on earth, which had then vanquished the navies of Europe and kept them
skulking in their own harbors. Such over-prudence ill suited the ardent
and determined natures of Bainbridge and Stewart. They heard that
the government had concluded to lay up such ships as it had, and to
prosecute the fight entirely on land. They went together to President
Madison, and besought him to change this cowardly and unwise policy,
and succeeded in persuading him to do it. For this one act the country
is forever indebted to Bainbridge and Stewart. While nothing could
eventually stop the progress of the United States toward being a great
and powerful nation, yet, had it not been for the victories gained at
sea during the War of 1812-15, the dignity and prestige of the United
States would have suffered an eclipse for fifty years. The success of
the Americans in the ship duels on the ocean during the war of 1812
did more to make the United States respected abroad than any event of
our history after the Revolution. The great question of the right of
search in neutral vessels was settled by the achievements of a few
smart vessels with great and daring captains, belonging to a young
and hitherto feeble power in America,--a right which had been vainly
contested by all the powers of Europe. The British navy had been for
more than a hundred years practically invincible, and there can be no
doubt that many of its earlier losses in 1812-15 came from absolute
rashness, fostered by a long and glorious career of conquest. What was
of more value to the United States than the respect of continental
Europe was the respect earned from the English themselves. The United
States of 1812 was chiefly populated by those only a few generations
from an English ancestry, and the people of the two countries were
alike in their willingness to make a square, stand-up fight, and then
to shake hands afterward. From the hour that the first British frigate
struck to an American ship, the British navy highly esteemed the
American navy, and the British government realized that at last there
was a sea power equal in skill, daring, and resource to Great Britain.
The ships lost by the British were scarcely missed from their huge
fleets; but Great Britain, like America, promptly recognized the new
and tremendous force which the taking of those few ships implied. It
was one of the most fortunate hours that ever dawned for the United
States when the advice of Bainbridge and Stewart was taken, and within
six months they were amply justified.
Bainbridge by his rank was entitled to a choice of the few frigates the
country then owned, and he would undoubtedly have chosen the glorious
"Old Ironsides" upon which to hoist his flag. But Hull[4] had got
her already, and, apprehending that orders might come detaching him,
he put to sea in a hurry, and before he returned, had captured the
Guerrière frigate. Bainbridge got the Constellation, the fine frigate
in which Commodore Truxtun had fought two French frigates. He was not
able, however, to get to sea in her; and when Hull returned from his
victorious cruise, in August, 1812, he gave up the Constitution to
Bainbridge, who hoisted a broad pennant on her. The Essex, thirty-two
guns, commanded by Captain Porter, who afterward made his celebrated
cruise in her to the Pacific, and the Hornet, of eighteen guns, under
the gallant Lawrence,[5] with the Constitution, were ordered to join
Bainbridge. Porter was Bainbridge's old lieutenant in the Philadelphia,
and had shared his captivity at Tripoli. Events, however, so fell
out that the Essex did not join the other two ships, and Bainbridge
sailed in October, 1812, for the South Atlantic accompanied only by
the Hornet. The Constitution was in need of repairs, and not sailing
in her usual great form, but could still sail fairly well on a wind.
She had some of the officers and all of the crew in her that had got
her out of the clutches of Admiral Broke's squadron in June, and had
taken the Guerrière in August. Therefore it was with great confidence
that Commodore Bainbridge on the morning of the 29th of December,
1812, made for a British frigate which showed an equal inclination to
close with him. This vessel, the Java, which carried forty-nine guns,
was undoubtedly a lighter ship than the Constitution. Yet the British
were in the habit of engaging such odds successfully with the warships
of other nations, and Captain Lambert of the Java showed a stern
determination to stand by his colors, and was as far from declining the
fight when he saw his adversary's power as when she was still hull down
in the distance.
The Java was fitted out to carry Lieutenant-General Hislop and a
large staff to Bombay, besides a number of naval officers and seamen
for ships on the East India stations. She had about four hundred and
twenty-five men on board.
About two o'clock in the day, after manoeuvring for an hour or two in
order to get together, the first broadsides were exchanged. There was a
light wind blowing, and Bainbridge, wishing to get the advantage of it
as far as possible, did not strip his ship of much of her canvas, but
went into action with most of his light sails set and his royal yards
across. The Java, which was finely officered and extra manned, was very
actively handled; and so many evolutions were made, in order to get a
good position for raking, that the battle ended many miles to leeward
of where it began. The cannonade was brisk from the start, and soon
after the first broadside Commodore Bainbridge was struck on the hip
by a musket ball, and in less than five minutes, while he was standing
near the wheel, a shot shivered it, and a small bolt was driven into
his thigh. Bainbridge did not leave the deck a moment for this, but
remained walking about as if he had not been wounded. The loss of the
Constitution's wheel was very serious, especially with so expert an
antagonist as Captain Lambert to deal with, and Bainbridge endeavored
to close. This was only partially successful, but nevertheless so
effective was the Constitution's fire that it was soon apparent that
she had the Java at her mercy. The gallant frigate, however, did not
strike her colors until every spar was shot out of her, her captain
mortally hurt, her first lieutenant painfully wounded, and she had
lost forty-eight killed and one hundred and two wounded. Then only she
hauled down the union jack which had been flying at the stump of the
mizzen-mast. The Constitution had lost nine men killed and twenty-five
wounded, and came out of the action with all her royal yards across,
and every spar in place.
The Java had been so much cut up that it was impossible to refit her,
and Bainbridge was forced to burn her, after taking out her wheel to
replace the Constitution's. This was a remarkably clumsy wheel, and in
no way matched the handsome fittings of the ship; but it was retained,
from motives of sentiment, ever afterward.
Captain Lambert lived several days after the fight, and was put ashore,
with the rest of the officers of the Java, at San Salvador. Commodore
Bainbridge's wounds were dangerous, as he had remained on deck from
the time he was shot, at half past two in the day, until eleven
o'clock that night. When Captain Lambert was about to be taken ashore,
Bainbridge had himself carried on deck by two of his officers, to where
Captain Lambert lay in his cot. Bainbridge, who was then dangerously
ill and in great pain, returned the dying officer his sword, and
Captain Lambert, still conscious, feebly thanked him. The interview
brought tears to the eyes of all who witnessed it, and the two captains
parted, never to meet again in this world, with feelings of kindness
such as brave enemies should entertain for each other.
Bainbridge treated all of his prisoners with great generosity, and
they showed a very grateful appreciation of it. On the 4th of January,
on being informed by Lieutenant Chads, next in command, of Captain
Lambert's death, Bainbridge wrote a very beautiful letter, in which he
said: "Commodore Bainbridge takes this occasion to observe, in justice
to Lieutenant Chads, who fought the Java after Captain Lambert was
wounded, that he had done everything which a brave and skilful officer
could do, and further resistance would have been a wanton effusion of
human blood."
This was valuable testimony to Lieutenant Chads on his future court
martial. Bainbridge had known what it was to lose his ship, and he
could feel for an officer under a similar misfortune. So thoughtful
was his kindness to his prisoners, that General Hislop in gratitude
gave him a splendid gold-hilted sword, and the two remained friends
and correspondents during the rest of their lives. The conduct of
Bainbridge and his officers was duly reported in England, and the
Prince Regent, afterward George the Fourth, who could say graceful
things, remarked that he would like to shake hands with Bainbridge,
for his magnanimity to the British prisoners. The loss of the Java,
following upon that of the Guerrière and the Macedonian, produced a
shock of pain and grief throughout Great Britain. The venerable Admiral
Jarvis, the day after the news reached London, said he had passed a
sleepless night, not from the destruction of a single British frigate,
but because of the seamanlike manner in which it had been captured,
which gave him as an Englishman much uneasiness and apprehension of the
future naval greatness of the United States. Bainbridge returned to
the United States within five months of leaving home, and was welcomed
as victorious captains always are. He landed at Boston, where he was
given a splendid public dinner; resolutions of thanks from the city
and State governments were passed in his honor, and he and the brave
fellows under him became the heroes of the hour. Amid all this popular
adoration, Bainbridge did not forget the claims of the seamen, and
immediately began efforts to get them prize money. He wrote, with much
justice, that the captain usually got all the honor when a ship was
captured, while the officers and men, who did quite as much toward
success, got nothing, except from the generosity of the government;
and he was deeply gratified when Congress, after awarding him the
customary gold medal, and the officers silver medals, gave the crew a
substantial sum in prize money. He gave up the Constitution to Captain
Stewart, who, like Hull and himself, was destined to do great things in
her.
Bainbridge did not get to sea again during the war, but soon after
the peace he went to the Mediterranean in command of a splendid
squadron destined to punish the Dey of Algiers for certain treacherous
acts toward American vessels. Bainbridge hoisted his flag on the
Independence, seventy-four guns,--the first line-of-battle ship over
which the American flag ever floated. Decatur, who had sailed in
advance of the commander-in-chief, had already brought the Dey to terms
before Bainbridge arrived, but it was thought well to show the squadron
for some time in European waters. It consisted of the largest naval
force that had, up to that time, ever been collected under an American
flag officer. It consisted of one ship of the line, three splendid
frigates, and fourteen smaller vessels, all well officered and manned,
and fine ships of their class. At Gibraltar, where it lay some time,
it was extremely admired, and the American officers received much
attention from the officers of the British fleet and garrison.
In 1820 Bainbridge again took a noble fleet to the Mediterranean. On
reaching Gibraltar, he found a very bad state of affairs between the
officers of the American squadron, which rendezvoused there, and
the British officers of the garrison and fleet. Misunderstandings,
quarrels, and duels were so frequent that the Governor had taken
upon himself to forbid the American officers from visiting the town
or garrison. He expressed to Commodore Bainbridge, however, a desire
for an amicable arrangement. Bainbridge at once required that this
prohibition be removed, and refused to treat until it was withdrawn,
which was done. As the British officers had very great personal regard
for Bainbridge, he was the man for smoothing down differences while
maintaining the dignity of an American officer. From that day, American
officers have been well treated at Gibraltar. This was Bainbridge's
last cruise, and afterward his service was in command of different navy
yards. It is said that in the course of his naval career he moved his
family twenty-six times. His health began to fail after his fifty-fifth
year, but he survived his sixtieth year. He died at Philadelphia in
July, 1833, honored and admired to an extraordinary degree. His last
words were, as he raised himself from his bed of death,--
"Give me my sword! And call all hands to board the enemy!"
EDWARD PREBLE
The story of Commodore Preble is, in itself, not only exciting but
amusing; and the gravest histories of him have not been able to keep
the vagaries of the commodore's celebrated bad temper in abeyance.
Preble was, unquestionably, one of the very greatest sea officers this
country ever produced; and however ridiculous the outbursts of his
fiery temper might make him, they never made him contemptible. "The
old man has the best heart, if he has the worst temper, in the world,"
was always said of him by the junior officers who were the victims of
his wrath. Preble seems to have come naturally by his impetuosity. His
father before him, General Preble, brigadier in the provincial army,
was one of the same sort, and it was commonly said by their neighbors
and friends that "Ned has a good deal of the brigadier in him." The
father and son were deeply attached to each other, although they often
came in conflict. The last time was when Edward was about sixteen years
old, in 1777. Men were so scarce, owing to most of them having enlisted
in the continental army, that the old brigadier set his boys to hoeing
potatoes on his farm near Portland, Maine. Edward had not worked very
long when, throwing away his hoe, he declared he had no taste for such
work, and walked himself off to the seacoast, where he entered the
first vessel that would take him. The brigadier did not seem to regard
this as wholly unjustifiable, and, seeing the boy was bent on the sea,
got him a midshipman's commission in the infant navy of the colonies.
In almost his first engagement Edward was taken prisoner, but was given
his parole at New York. There is in existence a letter written to him
at that time by his father the brigadier, which shows great affection
for the boy, and the strongest possible desire that he should conduct
himself honorably. The old man, then over seventy, reminds his son "not
to stain his honor by attempting to escape." And another recommendation
is followed by the utterance of a great truth which it would be well
if every human being acted upon. It is this: "Be kind and obliging to
all; _for no man ever does a designed injury to another without doing a
greater to himself_."
[Illustration: Edward Preble]
Before this, an event had occurred which Preble occasionally alluded to
in after life, and which, marvellous as it seems, must be accepted as
true, for Preble was too close an observer to have been deceived, and
too sensible a man to have assumed that he saw a thing which he did not
really see.
In the summer of 1779 young Preble was attached to the Protector,
a smart little continental cruiser, under the command of Captain
Williams, a brave and enterprising commander. The Protector was lying
in one of the bays on the Maine coast, near the mouth of the Penobscot,
when on a clear, still day a large serpent was seen lying motionless on
the water close to the vessel. Captain Williams examined it through his
spy-glass, as did every officer on the vessel. Young Preble was ordered
to attack it in a twelve-oared boat, armed with a swivel. The boat was
lowered, the men armed with cutlasses and boarding-pikes, and quickly
pulled toward the serpent. The creature raised its head about ten feet
above the surface, and then began to make off to sea. The boat followed
as rapidly as the men could force it through the water, and the swivel
was fired at the serpent. This had no apparent effect, except to make
the creature get out of the way the faster. Preble, however, had had
a complete view of it for some time, and said, in his opinion, it was
from one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet long, and was about
as big around as a barrel. This account must be accepted as exactly
true in every particular, coming from a man like Edward Preble; and
when he says he saw a sea-serpent from one hundred to one hundred and
fifty feet long and as big around as a barrel and got close enough to
fire at it, it must be absolutely true in every particular. It must be
remembered that Preble died long before sea-serpent stories became
common.[6]
Preble saw much service in the Revolution, and was the hero of a very
daring achievement not long after his onslaught on the sea-serpent. He
was then serving as first lieutenant on the Winthrop, a small cruiser.
Captain Little, of the Winthrop, heard there was an armed brig lying
at anchor under the guns of the British breastworks on the Penobscot.
He gave permission to Preble to cut the brig out, if possible. It was
determined to steal in upon her at night, and carry her by boarding. On
a dark night, therefore, Preble, with forty men, ran in unperceived,
and the Winthrop got alongside her enemy. They all wore their white
shirts over their jackets, so that they could tell friends from foes
when once on the British vessel. The officer of the deck of the British
ship mistook the little Winthrop for a tender of their own, and called
out, "Run aboard!" "I am coming aboard," answered Captain Little, as
his vessel shot alongside. Preble, with only fourteen men, leaped on
the brig's deck, when the Winthrop caught a puff of wind and drifted
off. As they passed ahead, Captain Little called out,--
"Shall I send you some more men?"
"No," coolly answered Preble; "I have too many already."
He had then secured the few men on deck, and soon had possession of the
brig. The British batteries on shore opened fire on him, but Preble
managed to take the vessel out without serious damage and without
losing a man.
At the end of the Revolution the navy practically ceased to exist,
and Preble went into the merchant service, as so many of the officers
were forced to do. But in 1798, when the quasi war with France took
place, he re-entered the navy, which had been created anew. He was
commissioned lieutenant in 1798, and was lucky enough the very next
year to get the Essex, frigate of thirty-two guns. In her he started on
what was then the longest cruise ever made by an American man-of-war.
He went to the Indian Seas, to give convoy to a valuable fleet of
merchant vessels engaged in the China and India trade, and which were
liable to be attacked by French cruisers. He had no opportunity to
distinguish himself especially in this duty, although he took care of
the ships and got them all safely to New York. Soon afterward, the
United States and France having come to terms, Preble went ashore and
remained for two years. His health was bad in the beginning, but being
much improved, in 1803 he reported for duty, and was assigned to the
Constitution, forty-four guns, then preparing for a Mediterranean
cruise.
At that time the relations of the United States with the piratical
powers of the Barbary coast were most unsatisfactory. After years
of submission to their exactions,--a submission which seems almost
incredible now,--the United States government determined to do in
the end what it should have done in the beginning. This was to send
a powerful squadron to attack these pirates of the land as well as
the sea, and to force them to respect the persons and liberties of
Americans. Preble was given the command of this squadron, with orders
to punish Algiers, Morocco, Tunis, and especially Tripoli, so that
it would not soon be forgotten. He hoisted the broad pennant of a
commodore on the Constitution, and had under him the Philadelphia,
a heavy frigate of thirty-eight guns, and five small vessels,--the
Enterprise, Argus, Nautilus, Vixen, and Siren. It was a remarkable
squadron in many ways. The Constitution was probably the heaviest
frigate afloat, and able to withstand a cannonade as well as any
line-of-battle ship. In Preble she had a commander worthy of her.
Preble was then about forty years of age, and his temper had not been
sweetened by dyspepsia, of which he had been a victim for a long time.
The Constitution was destined, under his command, to win for herself
the famous name of "Old Ironsides" from the way in which her stout
timbers resisted the tremendous cannonade of the forts and fleets at
Tripoli. It was in this splendid cruise, too, that she gained her
well-maintained reputation for being a lucky ship. In all her great
battles she never lost her commanding officer, nor did any great
slaughter ever take place on her decks, nor was she ever dismasted or
seriously injured by war or weather, nor did she ever take the ground.
Up to this time the Constellation had been the favorite frigate of
the navy, but, beginning with Preble's great cruise, the Constitution
became, once and for all, the darling ship, not only of the navy but of
the nation.
The only other heavy frigate in the squadron was the Philadelphia,
thirty-eight guns, commanded by Captain William Bainbridge. Her tragic
fate and the glorious manner in which it was avenged is one of the
immortal incidents of the American navy.[7]
The five small vessels were commanded by five young men, lieutenants
commandant, according to the rank of the day, of which three--Hull,
Decatur, and Stewart--reached the greatest distinction. Somers, the
fourth, had a short but glorious career. The fifth, Captain Smith, was
a brave and capable officer, but his name has been overshadowed by
the four young captains, who made a truly extraordinary constellation
of genius. Among the midshipmen in the squadron were two, Thomas
MacDonough and James Lawrence, who achieved reputations equal to the
three great captains.
In the summer of 1803 the squadron sailed, as each ship was ready,
for Gibraltar, which was the rendezvous. On the way out, the young
officers on the Constitution had a taste of the commodore's temper,
which was far from pleasing to them; but they also found out that he
had an excellent heart, and even a strict sense of justice, as soon as
his explosions of wrath were over. And before very long they discovered
the qualities of promptness, courage, and capacity which made Commodore
Preble a really great commander. While off Gibraltar, on a dark night,
the Constitution found herself quite close to a large ship. Preble
immediately sent the men to quarters, for fear the stranger might be
an enemy, and hailing began. The stranger seemed more anxious to ask
questions than to answer them. This angered the fiery commodore, and he
directed his first lieutenant to say if the ship did not give her name
he would give her a shot. The stranger called back: "If you give me a
shot, I'll give you a broadside." Preble, at this, seized the trumpet
himself, and, springing into the mizzen rigging, bawled out: "This is
the United States ship Constitution, forty-four guns, Commodore Edward
Preble. I am about to hail you for the last time. If you do not answer,
I will give you a broadside. What ship is that? Blow your matches,
boys!" The answer then came: "This is his Britannic Majesty's ship
Donegal, razee, of eighty guns."