but unfortunate Guerrière made ready for her ocean grave. A slow match
was applied to her magazine, and the Constitution bore away. About
three miles off she hove to, while her officers and men, together with
those of the doomed frigate, waited breathlessly for the explosion.
As the fire gained headway, a dense volume of smoke formed over her.
Some of her guns had been left shotted, and as the fire reached them,
they began to go off, their sullen boom over the sea sounding like
the death-knell of the gallant ship. Presently the flames reached the
magazine. Streams of light, and a roar that seemed to shake the deep,
followed; a mass of wreckage flew skyward; the Guerrière was no more.
There was great uneasiness felt on board the Constitution in regard
to the large number of prisoners she carried. There were not enough
handcuffs in the ship for the whole British crew, and the Americans
felt a manly unwillingness to handcuff any of the men who had fought
them so bravely. But it was noted that from the start the prisoners and
their captors behaved well, the American and British sailors sitting
around the fok'sle together, spinning yarns, exchanging tobacco, and
chumming quite amicably.
Hull made for Boston, and on his arrival there was greeted with the
wildest enthusiasm. The people were beside themselves with joy. Before
this a British ship had been deemed invincible, and the knowledge that
one of these great ships, with a captain and crew worthy of her, had
struck to an American captain who had never before handled a frigate
in action, was gratifying to the national pride. Hull, to his great
discomfiture, was seized, as he stepped upon the dock, and carried on
the shoulders of his admirers to his destination. A grand banquet was
given to him and his officers in Faneuil Hall. Congress had a medal
struck in his honor, and gave swords to the officers and a handsome sum
in prize money to the crew. So great was Hull's popularity that the
commissioners of the navy would not have taken the ship away from him,
had he asked to retain her, but with true magnanimity he gave her up
to Bainbridge. Hull knew that Bainbridge was justly entitled to her,
and he was not the man to withhold anything from a brother in arms.
Bainbridge therefore took her, and went out and captured the Java.[17]
Hull was actively, though not brilliantly, employed during the rest
of the war, but did not get afloat again, as there were more captains
than frigates. In 1813 he married a beautiful girl, the daughter of
a clergyman. She had laughed at his pretensions when he was only a
lieutenant; but after his great cruise she said, when she knew it would
be repeated to Hull, "How delightful it must be to be the wife of a
hero!" He took the hint, and soon after they were married.
Hull's subsequent career was one of honor and usefulness. He was a
great hater of idleness, and often said, "Idleness will soon bring
any man to ruin." He had fine commands, both ashore and afloat, and
hoisted his broad pennant over several splendid squadrons. In 1836 he
commanded the Mediterranean station. At Gibraltar he found his old
friend Dacres, then an admiral, also in command of a squadron. The two
met with delight. Admiral Dacres showed Commodore Hull the greatest
attention, and at a splendid dinner given in his honor on the British
flagship the admiral told Mrs. Hull, who was present, the story of the
saving of his wife's Bible. Later, both of them having been detached
from their squadrons, they were in Rome for a winter together, and were
inseparable. Admiral Dacres was a remarkably tall, thin man, while
Commodore Hull was somewhat the size and shape of a hogshead; and the
wags had infinite amusement over the queer figures of these two heroic
men.
On Commodore Hull's retirement he made his home in Philadelphia. He
always wore his uniform, and as he walked the streets every hat was
doffed to him, and the salute was courteously returned. The end came in
February, 1843. His last words were, "I strike my flag,"--words that
he had never before had occasion to utter. He was a devout Christian,
and during his whole life he honestly lived up to the requirements of a
just and pious manhood.
CHARLES STEWART.
In the splendid galaxy of naval officers of the early part of the
century each one seems to have gained some special distinction, equally
brilliant, but differing entirely from any other. Thus, as Hull made
the most remarkable escape on record, and Decatur succeeded in the most
daring enterprise, so Stewart may be credited with the most superb
seamanship in the one great fight that fell to his lot, for with one
ship, the glorious Constitution, he fought two vessels at the same
time, raking them repeatedly, without once being raked himself, and in
the end forcing the surrender of both his antagonists.
[Illustration: Charles Stewart]
Charles Stewart was born in Philadelphia in 1778, and entered the
merchant service at thirteen years of age. At twenty he had risen
to the command of a fine vessel in the India trade, but on the
reorganization of the navy in 1798 he was given a naval commission.
His rise in the navy was rapid, as he was an accomplished seaman when
he joined it. After serving for a short time as a midshipman, he was
made the junior lieutenant on the United States, frigate, when she was
commissioned at the beginning of hostilities with France. With him
on this cruise were Decatur and Somers; and, as Fenimore Cooper aptly
says, the noble frigate turned out to be a nursery of heroes.
Stewart began the cruise as fourth, and ended it as first, lieutenant.
He was of commanding figure and of pleasing address, and his capacity
was such that from the first he was thought likely to distinguish
himself.
When the United States was laid up in ordinary, Stewart was given the
command of a small schooner, the Experiment. In this little vessel he
showed much spirit and enterprise, making many captures, and fighting
whenever he had a chance.
Stewart was, like Decatur, of an impetuous and even domineering
disposition, and made everybody under him "walk Spanish," as the
sailors said. But he himself knew how to obey promptly. Once, having
received a peremptory order from his superior officer to report with
his ship immediately, Stewart sailed, towing his mainmast after him, as
he had not time to have it fitted and did not choose to wait.
In 1803 he was sent to the Mediterranean with the Siren, a beautiful
little cruiser, as a part of Commodore Preble's squadron destined to
reduce Tripoli. Stewart was the senior among the commodore's "schoolboy
captains," and second in command to Commodore Preble himself.
Although he had no opportunity of performing deeds like Decatur's
in the Tripolitan war, his general good conduct was highly praised,
and the Siren was brilliantly engaged in all the glorious actions of
that famous time. At the beginning of the war of 1812 Stewart was
given the command of the Constellation, frigate, which shared with
the Constitution the reputation of being a lucky ship,--lucky in
meeting and whipping her enemies when the force was anything like
equal, and lucky in running away when they were too many for her.
Stewart took command of this noble ship at Annapolis in 1813. He was
ordered to Norfolk, and took the ship to Hampton Roads. He arrived
and anchored one night, and next morning at daylight there were five
British men-of-war in sight of him. The Constellation endeavored to
get out of the way, and the British ships chased her, but, the wind
failing, both the pursuers and the pursued were becalmed. Stewart,
though, remembering the Constitution's escape by kedging from a British
squadron, concluded it would never do that the Constellation should not
succeed equally as well; so, putting out his boats, the frigate was
kedged up toward Norfolk, until the tide fell, and she took the ground
at Seawell's Point, not far from the present Fort Monroe. The mud was
soft, the ship's bottom was hard, and the tide would rise; so Stewart
felt no alarm about her. The British squadron were also waiting for
the tide, but they did not think that Stewart would attempt to get his
ship up the narrow and tortuous channel to Norfolk.
They did not know Stewart, though. As soon as the darkness of the
winter night came, and the tide began to lift the ship out of the mud,
he sent pilots ahead to buoy the channel with lights. The ship, helped
somewhat by the wind, but towed by the boats, would go a mile or two up
to the nearest buoy, when that light would be put out, and she would
be headed for the next one. So quietly was this done that the British
never suspected what was going on. But when daylight came there was no
Constellation to be seen; she was safe in the Elizabeth River.
The British determined to blockade her there, and succeeded in doing
so; but although they made several desperate attempts to carry her
by boarding, they never succeeded. Stewart had her so well guarded
with boats, and the boats with a circle of booms, while the ship was
protected with boarding netting, her guns kept double-shotted, and her
officers and crew always on the alert, that her enemies themselves
were forced to admire the care taken of her. It was the joke among the
British officers that Stewart must be a Scotchman, he was so wary and
so watchful with his ship; and the British Admiral is said to have
remarked: "If that had been a French ship, we would have had her long
ago."
Having satisfied himself that although the Constellation could not
be taken, yet it was unlikely that she would get out during the war,
Stewart applied for and got the Constitution. This was in 1814. The
Constitution had then made her celebrated escape from Admiral Broke's
squadron, and had destroyed the Guerrière and the Java,--for when "Old
Ironsides" got through with an enemy, he was generally past saving.
It may be imagined with what splendid hopes Stewart took the great
ship after she had been refitted at Boston. He got out, although seven
British ships blockaded Boston, and sailed to the West Indies. He
made a few prizes, and took a small British cruiser; but this was not
enough for the Constitution to do. Stewart's disappointment with his
cruise was great, and it almost seemed as if the ship were no longer
to be a favorite of fortune, until she was chased by two frigates,
the Junon and the Tenedos, off the Massachusetts coast. Stewart had
a good pilot aboard, and he made for Marblehead under a spanking
breeze, with the two British frigates legging it briskly after him. The
Constitution drew about twenty-two feet of water, and Stewart could
not conceal his anxiety as the pilot carried her along the dangerous
coast, and it seemed as if any moment she might be put on the rocks.
The pilot, though, a cool-headed, steady fellow, knew his business,
and was nettled at Stewart's evident uneasiness. The British ships,
not knowing the coast, declined to follow, and were falling slightly
astern; but it looked as if the Constitution would only escape one
danger to be destroyed by another. Presently Stewart asked the pilot
for the hundredth time,--
"How many feet of water has she under her keel now, pilot?"
"Two," answered the pilot; when, seeing Stewart's countenance turn pale
with apprehension, he added nonchalantly: "And afore long she won't
have but one!"
The effect of this news upon the captain of a war-ship may be imagined;
but in a moment or two the ship slipped into deep water, and, carrying
sail hard, got into Marblehead safe and sound, while cheering
multitudes flocked to the shore to welcome her.
In a few days Stewart succeeded in slipping into Boston again,--the
sixth time in the course of the war that the ship had eluded the
British blockade. Stewart took up his berth in the upper harbor, and as
he was known to be a fighting captain with a fighting ship, the State
and city authorities concluded that they would rather have him a little
farther off. Accordingly they asked him to take his ship down into the
lower harbor, as, if the British blockading fleet attacked him where
he was, the cannonade would do great damage to the town. Stewart's
reply to this request was characteristic. He coolly informed them that
he should stay where he was, but it would make very little difference
to them where he lay, as, "if attacked, I shall make such a defence as
will endanger the town." He recommended them to build some additional
batteries to defend the town. The authorities had to be satisfied
with this reply; but they took Stewart's advice, and increased their
batteries so that they were better prepared than before to meet a
bombardment, should the British fleet treat them to one.
On the 17th of December, 1814, Stewart again slipped past the
blockading fleet, making the seventh time the Constitution had done
this, and sailed on his last and greatest cruise. He had lately been
married, and it is said that he asked his wife what he should bring
home to her. She replied, "A British frigate." Stewart replied, "I will
bring you two of them." He kept his promise.
Stewart was soon on the broad ocean. Nothing of note happened until
February, when one morning, off the coast of Portugal, Stewart suddenly
and from no reason he was able to give, except an unaccountable impulse
to proceed to a certain spot in the Atlantic, changed the ship's
course and ran off sixty miles to the southwest. At two o'clock in the
afternoon of the 20th of February, 1815, about sixty leagues southwest
of the Madeira islands, a small frigate, the Cyane, was sighted, and
a little later a large sloop-of-war, the Levant. The Constitution
immediately gave chase, although it was thought that one of the ships
was much heavier than she really was, as she had double gun-streaks and
false ports painted amidships, which the Americans, in chasing, took
for real guns and ports.
It soon became plain that the two ships were bent on fighting, but they
manoeuvred in a very masterly manner for several hours, in order
to get together before trying conclusions with the great frigate. At
five minutes past six o'clock they hove to and hoisted their ensigns,
and the Constitution replied by showing her colors. The three ships
were arranged like the points of an equilateral triangle,--a very
advantageous position for the two attacking ships, but one which was
turned by the superb seamanship of Stewart to his own profit by what
is commonly esteemed to have been the finest manoeuvring ever known
of an American ship in action. Stewart fought his port and starboard
batteries alternately, giving one of his antagonists a terrible
broadside, then wearing, and letting fly at the other, raking them
repeatedly, and handling his ship in such a manner that neither the
Levant nor the Cyane ever got in a single raking broadside.
Soon after the action began, a full moon arose in splendor, and by
its radiance the battle went on stoutly. There was a good working
breeze, and the British captains handled their ships admirably, but
"Old Ironsides" appeared to be playing with them. She answered her
helm beautifully, and always presented her broadside to the ship that
attempted to approach her. Soon both the British ships were suffering
dreadfully, and the leading ship, the sloop-of-war Levant, was forced
to wear under a raking broadside from the Constitution, and ran off
to leeward, unable to stand the fire. Having disposed of her, the
Constitution now turned her attention to the other ship, the light
frigate Cyane, and another raking broadside caused her to strike her
colors. Stewart at once sent Lieutenant Ballard and a prize crew aboard
of her, and after repairing the slight damages his ship had sustained,
set off to look for the Levant. She too had repaired damages, and,
although free to escape, was gallantly returning to meet her mighty
antagonist again. For a time the little Levant bravely withstood
the heavy frigate's fire, but at last was forced to run away, the
Constitution pursuing her. The two ships were so close that those
in the Constitution could hear the planks ripping on the Levant as
the heavy shot tore through her. At ten o'clock she was overhauled,
and forced to strike also, and the Constitution had gained the most
brilliant and seamanlike of all her victories.
The Constitution lost in this fight three men killed and twelve
wounded. The other two ships lost, altogether, nineteen killed and
forty-two wounded.
The Constitution, with her two prizes, made sail for Porto Praya, where
they arrived on the 10th of March. Next day, about twelve o'clock,
while the captured officers of the Cyane and Levant were on the
quarter-deck, the first lieutenant, happening to pass along, heard a
little midshipman who had been taken on the Cyane utter an exclamation
to Captain Falcon, late of the Cyane,--
"Oh, Captain Falcon," he cried, "look at the large ship in the offing!"
"Hold your tongue, you little rascal!" answered Captain Falcon, in a
low voice.
The American lieutenant looked up and saw, on the top of a fog bank
that lay on the water, the sails of a large ship. Indistinctly as
she was seen, the squareness and smartness of her rig induced the
lieutenant to think her a man-of-war. Instantly he went below and
told the captain. Stewart, who was shaving, without stopping in his
occupation, directed him to call the men to quarters, and make ready
to go out and attack the advancing ship. The lieutenant went on deck,
gave the order, and it was promptly obeyed. The men were not surprised,
because, as they explained, a dog belonging to the ship had been
drowned that day, and they knew they would have to fight or run within
twenty-four hours. Then the lieutenant noticed that two more ships had
appeared above the fog-bank, with the first one. He ran below to tell
this to Stewart, who was wiping his face and getting into his uniform
at the same time.
"Cut the cables," he said, "and signal the prizes to do the same and
follow us out."
In another minute he was on deck, and the cables were cut, leaving the
anchors at the bottom, and sail was being made with perfect order and
marvellous rapidity. In fourteen minutes from the time the first ship
had been seen, and ten minutes from the time the Constitution's cable
had been cut, the frigate was standing out of the roads under a cloud
of canvas, ready to fight or run, as occasion might require.
The trade winds were blowing, and the Constitution, with her two
prizes, passed within gunshot of the three strangers. Some of the
English prisoners who had been landed, manned a battery on shore and
opened fire on the Americans. This and other circumstances revealed
to the British squadron that the three ships making out to sea were
American men-of-war, and they promptly tacked and followed.
The British ships were the Acasta, of forty guns, a very fast ship; the
Leander, of fifty guns; and the Newcastle, of fifty guns, all belonging
to Admiral Sir George Collier's fleet. The British officers, prisoners
on the Constitution, became jubilant as the British ships gained on the
Constitution with her two prizes, and promised the Americans that "Kerr
in the Acasta" would soon overhaul the Americans. One of the British
captains, standing in the stern gallery, called out as the Acasta
neared the Constitution, "Captain Kerr, I envy you your glory this day!"
Stewart, with his men at quarters and every rag of canvas set that
would draw, was edging off, but prepared to fight the three heavy
frigates with the Constitution and the two smaller ships if obliged
to. He signalled the Cyane and the Levant to take different courses,
so that the British squadron might divide in pursuit. This was done,
and to the amazement of the Americans and the painful chagrin of the
British prisoners the Acasta suddenly went about in pursuit of the
Levant, which, by a singular mistake, was supposed to be a heavy
American frigate; the other two ships followed, while the Constitution
was trotting off at an eleven-knot gait.
The Levant put back to Porto Praya, which was a neutral port; but
the three frigates, after chasing her in, opened fire on her, and
her commander, Lieutenant Ballard, of the Constitution, hauled down
his flag. He had his revenge, though. When the British prize-master
came on board to take possession of the Levant, he said, "This is, I
presume, the American man-of-war Peacock." "You are mistaken, sir,"
replied Ballard coolly; "this is the Levant, late of his Britannic
Majesty's navy, and prize to the United States ship Constitution."
The commander of the British squadron was censured at home for his
mistake in leaving the Constitution that he might go in pursuit of the
smaller ship; and the affair on the part of the British was thought to
have been bungled to the last degree.
Stewart carried the grand old ship into New York the middle of May, and
then learned that peace had been made many months before.
He was received with acclamations. The people by that time had come
to believe the ship invincible. Besides her glorious career before
Tripoli, she had made two extraordinary escapes from British squadrons.
She had run the blockade seven times through large British fleets.
She had captured two heavy frigates, one light frigate, a large
sloop-of-war, and many merchant-ships, and had made more than eleven
hundred prisoners. Her fire had always been fearfully destructive,
while she had never had any great slaughter on her decks, nine being
the largest number killed in any single engagement. She had never lost
her commanding officer, either by wounds or death, had never lost a
mast, and had never taken the ground. This record is not one of chance.
She was, first, one of the best built frigates in the world; and,
second, she was officered and manned in a surprisingly good manner. Her
crews were generally made up wholly of American seamen and her four
great commanders during her warlike career--Preble, Hull, Bainbridge,
and Stewart--would have given a good account of any ships they might
have commanded.
Congress rewarded Stewart by a gold medal and a resolution of
thanks. His officers received silver medals, and there was the usual
distribution of prize-money among the officers and crew.
Stewart had a long and distinguished career in the navy, rising in
1859 to be senior officer; but his fighting days were his early days.
He commanded the Franklin in 1817, a splendid line-of-battle ship,
and took her to Europe under his broad pennant as Commodore. She was
visited by the Emperor of Austria, and many royal persons, besides
officers of high rank in foreign navies, all of whom were struck with
admiration at her beauty, force, and the fine crew she carried. Stewart
was retired in 1861, and spent his last days at his country-place, "Old
Ironsides," in New Jersey. Among the souvenirs of his great fight was
a rude iron hilt to his full-dress sword, a superb Toledo blade. The
gold hilt had been shot away in his great fight, and the ship's armorer
had made an iron one, which Stewart afterward wore.
He died in 1869, after having been borne on the navy list for
seventy-one years, and he was the last survivor of the great captains
of 1812-15.
OLIVER HAZARD PERRY.
The victory won by Perry on Lake Erie, September 10, 1813, has ever
been one of great popular renown. It was won in the sight and knowledge
of the American people; it was the first success the American navy ever
won in squadron; the consequences were important; and the fact that the
battle was won on the Canadian line, where the American army had met
with reverses, was gratifying to the national vanity.
[Illustration: Oliver H. Perry]
Perry's youth--he was barely eight-and-twenty--was a captivating
element in his success, and as the victory was due in a great measure
to his personal intrepidity, he was justly admired for it. He cannot
be classed with those American commanders, like Paul Jones, Preble,
Decatur, and Hull, who, either in meeting danger or escaping from
it, seemed able to compass the impossible; but he was a man of good
talents, of admirable coolness and courage, and prone to seek active
duty and to do it.