the infant navy of the country, as it was reorganized at the time of
the French aggressions. Captain Perry's first duty was to supervise
the building of a vessel of war at Warren, Rhode Island, some distance
from his home. He found it necessary to remove to Warren, and took
with him Mrs. Perry, leaving the home-place in charge of Oliver, then
a boy of thirteen. He was, even then, a boy of so much steadiness and
integrity that he was found quite equal to this task. The fever for the
sea, though, seems to have seized him about that time, and in 1799, his
father having command of a small frigate, the General Greene, Oliver
was given a midshipman's commission, and joined his father's ship.
Captain Perry was an officer of spirit and enterprise, and Oliver saw
some real, if not warlike, service in the General Greene.
His next cruise was in the Adams, frigate, which was sent out in 1802
to join Commodore Morris's squadron at Gibraltar. The orders of the
squadron were to watch the ships of the Barbary powers, and to prevent
as far as possible their aggressions upon American commerce. This was
hard and thankless work, and most of the younger officers who made the
Mediterranean cruise in 1802-3 considered themselves as peculiarly
unfortunate, as they were generally ordered to return to the United
States just at the time that the active hostilities began, in which
their successors reaped so much glory. Perry was one of those who made
the uneventful cruise of 1802. He enjoyed great advantages, though,
in sailing on a ship of which Isaac Hull, afterward the celebrated
commodore, was first lieutenant. Hull's admirable seamanship in
navigating the narrow straits of Gibraltar in all weathers, and the
blockading of Tripoli for eight months during an inclement season,
upon a dangerous coast, without pilots and with insufficient charts,
was a subject of general commendation from the officers of the
squadron. Perry improved his opportunities so well that he was given an
appointment as acting lieutenant the day he was seventeen years old. It
is believed that this is the most rapid instance of promotion in the
American navy.
Perry returned home in the Adams in the autumn of 1803. The next summer
it was known that a determined attempt would be made by Preble's
squadron to reduce the Barbary powers, and Perry was extremely
anxious to be on the scene of action. He found himself ordered to
the Constellation, in the squadron under Commodore Barron which was
sent out to assist Preble; but the Constellation and the President,
forty-four guns, did not reach Tripoli until Preble had practically
completed the work. Perry remained in the Constellation several months;
but as she was too large to be of much service on that coast, Perry
thought himself fortunate to be ordered to the schooner Nautilus, of
fourteen guns, as first lieutenant. This was his first duty in that
responsible capacity, and he acquitted himself well, although only
twenty years old. He had a beautiful and penetrating voice, and this,
in addition to his other qualifications, made him a brilliant deck
officer.
He took part in the operations off Derne, and was highly commended for
his conduct. In the autumn of 1806 he returned home, and served at home
stations until 1809, when he got his first command. This was a smart
little schooner, the Revenge, of fourteen guns.
At that time the occurrences which led to the war of 1812-15 were
taking place, and Perry soon had a chance to show his determination to
maintain the dignity of the flag he flew. An American vessel had been
run away with by the English captain who commanded her and who had
hoisted British colors over her. Perry determined to take possession
of her, although two small British cruisers lay near her. This he did,
supported by three gunboats. The British cruisers, appreciating the
justice of his conduct, did not interfere, although Perry had no means
of knowing whether they would or not and took all the chances. As he
was carrying the vessel off, he was met by a British sloop-of-war, and
her captain sent a boat, with a request that Perry should come aboard.
This Perry flatly refused, and, determined that his ship should not be
caught unprepared as the Leopard caught the Chesapeake in 1807,[18] he
sent his men to quarters, and made every preparation to resist; but the
British ship passed on, and no collision occurred. In January, 1811,
Perry had the misfortune to lose the Revenge by shipwreck off Watch
Hill, in Rhode Island; but the court of inquiry which investigated it
acquitted him of blame, and praised his conduct at the time of the
accident.
When war was declared with Great Britain, Perry was in command of a
division of gunboats at Newport; but finding there was little chance of
seeing active service in that duty, he asked to be sent to the lakes,
where Commodore Chauncey was preparing to dispute the possession of
those great inland seas with the British.
In the spring of 1813 Perry arrived at Lake Erie, and entered upon his
duties. The small fleet to oppose the British had to be constructed in
the wilderness, on the shores of the lake; and men and material had to
be transported at great labor and cost from the seaboard.
Perry showed the utmost skill, energy, and vigilance in his arduous
work, and built and equipped his little squadron in a manner most
creditable to himself and his subordinates.
The land forces, operating together with the seamen and marines, got
command of the Niagara River; but a little British squadron guarded
the mouth of the river, at which there was a bar which it was thought
unlikely the Americans could pass and so get into the lake itself.
Perry, however, watched his chance, and on a Sunday afternoon in
August, 1813, to his surprise, he found the British squadron had
disappeared. It was said that the British commander, Barclay, had
gone over to the Canadian side to attend a dinner, thinking the
Americans could not possibly get over the bar before his return. But
Perry and his officers and men went to work, and by the most arduous
labor they got all the vessels into the lake before Captain Barclay
returned. Once in the lake, the Americans were much stronger than the
British, and Perry determined to go in search of the enemy. He had
much sickness on his little squadron, and was ill himself, so that
it was not until early in September that he was prepared to fight.
Meanwhile the British, although having only six vessels to oppose to
Perry's nine, undauntedly sought the conflict, and on the morning of
the 10th of September, while Perry was in Put-in-Bay, he saw the little
British squadron standing in the offing. Perry had two brigs, the
Lawrence,--his own flagship, named for the brave Lawrence,--and the
Niagara, each of which carried twenty guns; and he had five smaller
vessels. Captain Barclay had the Detroit,--his flagship, of nineteen
guns,--the Queen Charlotte, of seventeen guns, and four smaller
vessels.
The wind was light and variable, so that the American vessels came out
slowly; but the little British squadron waited with their topsails to
the mast, until a quarter to twelve, when the first shot was fired by
the Detroit. In a very little while the action became general, each
American and British vessel bravely doing its best to get alongside its
enemy. It was the effort of the gallant commanders of the American and
British squadrons to fight flagship to flagship; and in doing this,
Perry, in the Lawrence, drew ahead of his column, and concentrated upon
his ship the fire from the Detroit and two other vessels. The British
fought their batteries with unusual skill, and the result soon was that
a dreadful slaughter took place on the Lawrence's decks, her guns were
silenced, and she was so much cut up that she was totally unmanageable.
But Perry, with indomitable courage, continued the fight. He himself,
with the help of the purser and the chaplain, fired the last gun
available on the Lawrence. Her consort, the Niagara, approached about
this time, the wind sprang up, and Perry, seeing that the battle was
passing ahead of him, determined to abandon his own unfortunate ship
and make for the Niagara. He ordered a boat lowered, and, taking with
him his brother, a little midshipman of thirteen years old, he was
rapidly pulled to the Niagara. Once on board of her, he bore up, and
soon got her into a position to rake both the Detroit and the Queen
Charlotte with fearful effect. These two vessels, after an heroic
defence, were compelled to strike, while the seven smaller American
gunboats soon overpowered the four British ones. The Detroit, however,
before striking had forced the Lawrence to haul down her colors; and
the fight, as all the others during this war, was as creditable to
British as to American valor.
The first news of the victory was in Perry's celebrated despatch: "We
have met the enemy, and they are ours." The news from the Canadian
border had not always been gratifying, and on that account the American
people were the more delighted at this success. Perry was given a gold
medal and promoted to be a post-captain; for although he had been
called commodore by courtesy, such was not his real rank at the time.
Perry had no further opportunity of distinguishing himself before peace
was declared, in January, 1815. He obtained afterward some of the
best commands in the navy, and in March, 1819, he became a commodore
in fact, by being given the command of a squadron in South America
destined to protect American trade in those quarters. He hoisted his
broad pennant on the John Adams, and sailed in June. He reached the
mouth of the Orinoco River in August, and, although it was in the midst
of the sickly season, he determined to go up the river to Angostura.
He shifted his flag to the Nonesuch, schooner, and sent the frigate to
Trinidad.
After reaching Angostura he remained twenty days. Yellow fever was
raging, and Perry seems to have been singularly indifferent to this
fact. Fever broke out on the schooner, and it was then determined to
get back to the sea as soon as possible. As they dropped down the river
with the powerful current two days after leaving Angostura, Perry got
into his gig, and amused himself shooting wildfowl on the banks. He was
exposed to the sun, and that night, after going aboard the schooner,
which was anchored on the bar at the mouth of the river, the weather
grew bad, with a heavy sea, which washed over the side and leaked down
into Perry's cabin, drenching him. Next morning he was very ill.
From the first he felt that he should not recover, and, although calmly
preparing for death, spoke often of his young wife and little children
at home. He was very anxious to live until the schooner could reach
Trinidad and he could, at least, die upon his ship. At last, on the 23d
of August, the Nonesuch reached Port Spain, Trinidad, where the John
Adams was at anchor. A boat put off at once from the frigate carrying
the first lieutenant and other officers, in response to the signal from
the schooner. They found Perry in the agonies of death on the floor
of the little cabin. He survived long enough to show satisfaction at
seeing them, and asked feebly about the ship; but in a little while the
anxious watchers on the frigate saw the flag on the Nonesuch slowly
half-masted,--Perry was no more.
He was buried at Trinidad with full military honors. Some years
afterward a ship of war was sent by the government to bring back his
remains to his native country. He sleeps at Newport, Rhode Island, near
the spot where he was born; and the reputation he left behind him is
that of a gallant, capable, and devoted officer.
THOMAS MACDONOUGH.
Thomas Macdonough may be called the Young Commodore; for he was an
acting commodore at the age of thirty-one, when the modern naval
officer is still in subordinate grades of rank. It is truly astonishing
what wonders were accomplished by men in their first manhood in the
early days of the American navy, and Macdonough had seen as much
service as most veterans before his twenty-first birthday. He was a
son of a Revolutionary officer, and was born in Delaware in 1783. His
diffident and retiring disposition was early marked. Fenimore Cooper
speaks of him in his midshipman days as "the modest but lion-hearted
Macdonough." The words describe him admirably; for this quiet, silent
midshipman was always to be found leading the forlorn hope,--"the lost
children," as the French expressively call it.
[Illustration: Thomas Macdonough]
Indeed, Macdonough's character as an officer and a man is as nearly
perfect as can be imagined; and when his great talents are considered,
he may well be held as a type of what the American naval officer should
be. He entered the navy in 1800, when he was seventeen, which was
rather old for a midshipman in those days. He had enjoyed a good
education for his years, and remained a close student all his life. He
was deeply but not obtrusively religious, and no human being ever heard
a low or profane word from his lips.
Such a young man as Thomas Macdonough must make his mark early, and
from the first his commanding officers reposed the greatest confidence
in him. He was ordered to the Philadelphia, under Captain Bainbridge,
when Commodore Preble went out in 1803 to reduce the African pirates.
He happened to have been detached from the Philadelphia and in command
of a prize at Gibraltar when the unfortunate ship went upon the
rocks near Tripoli, October 31, 1803, and he thus escaped the long
captivity of his shipmates. He reported promptly to Commodore Preble,
and was assigned to the Enterprise, schooner, under Decatur, then a
young lieutenant commandant of less than twenty-five years. It may be
imagined that no officer in the Mediterranean squadron felt a more
ardent desire than Macdonough to rescue Bainbridge and his men and to
destroy the Philadelphia.
At last Decatur organized his celebrated expedition in the ketch
Intrepid, and among the eleven officers he selected for that glorious
enterprise was Macdonough. At that time Macdonough was still a
midshipman. He was tall and very slender, never having been physically
strong; but he was, even then, a man for the post of danger.
The ketch set off on the 3d of February from Syracuse and returned
on the 19th, having in that time entered the well-guarded harbor
of Tripoli by night, burned the Philadelphia at her moorings, and
escaped without losing a man. Macdonough was the third man on the
Philadelphia's deck, and was especially active in his work of
distributing the powder for the ship's destruction in her storerooms
aft. No officer in that glorious expedition conducted himself better
than Macdonough; and when it is remembered that Decatur commanded it,
that James Lawrence was one of his lieutenants, and Charles Morris,
who was afterward Captain Hull's first lieutenant in the escape of
the Constitution and the capture of the Guerrière, was one of the
midshipmen, it will be seen that Macdonough was measured by no common
standard.
Macdonough shared in all the glory of those splendid campaigns, and
received the thanks and commendations of his superiors, besides
promotion. In 1806 he was made first lieutenant of the Siren, one of
the smart brigs that had done good service during the Tripolitan war.
She was at Gibraltar, where the British navy is always very much in
evidence; and Macdonough, the mild and forbearing, soon had a chance
of showing the stuff that was in him. One day, while his commanding
officer, Captain Smith, was on shore, Macdonough noticed a boat going
from a heavy British frigate that lay close to an American merchant
vessel. When the boat repassed the Siren, on her way back to the
frigate, she carried one more man than she had on leaving the frigate.
In those days, if a British captain suspected an American merchant
vessel of having a British subject among the crew, it was common enough
to seize the man, and when once on board a British ship, it mattered
little whether he were American or British, there he had to stay.
Macdonough suspected this to be the case, and sent a boat to the brig
to ask if a man had been taken and if he were an American. Such was
actually reported. Macdonough at once ordered the first cutter lowered,
and although she pulled only four oars and the British boat pulled
eight, he set off in pursuit. He did not catch up with the British boat
until she was directly under the frigate's quarter, and the man in the
bow had raised his boat-hook. Suddenly Macdonough reached forward, and,
catching hold of the prisoner, who sat in the stern sheets, lifted him
bodily into the American boat, and before the British could believe
their eyes, was well started on his way back to the Siren.
The captain of the frigate had seen the whole affair, and in a rage he
jumped into a boat and headed for the Siren. When he reached her the
men of the cutter had gone aboard, and the young lieutenant was calmly
walking the quarterdeck. The captain angrily demanded the man, and
asked if Macdonough knew the responsibility he was taking upon himself
in Captain Smith's absence.
"I will not give up the man, and I am accountable only to the captain
of this ship," replied Macdonough.
"I could blow you out of the water at this moment," said the captain.
"No doubt you are perfectly able to do it," answered Macdonough; "but I
will never give up that man as long as this ship will float."
"You are a very indiscreet and a very young man," continued the
captain. "Suppose I had been in the boat just now?"
"I would have taken the man or lost my life."
"What, sir!" cried the captain; "would you dare to stop me now if I
were to get hold of the man?"
"I would, and you have only to try it," was Macdonough's undaunted
reply.
The captain, seeing nothing was to be got out of the resolute young
lieutenant, left the ship, but was pulled toward the merchant ship.
Macdonough had a boat lowered which followed the British boat, watching
her until she returned to the frigate. This action not only won the
good opinion of the captain and other officers and men of the Siren,
but of many of the British officers as well, who knew how to respect a
man of such resolute courage.
Macdonough was ever afterward treated with the utmost consideration
and politeness by all the British officers at Gibraltar, including the
officers of the overbearing captain.
At the outbreak of the war with Great Britain Macdonough was what was
then termed a master commandant. His was not the fortune of Decatur,
Stewart, and others of his brave shipmates to seek for glory on the
wide ocean, but he was sent into the wilderness, as it were, to create
a navy, and to fight the British on the great lakes. He established
himself with his seamen and workmen on the shores of Lake Champlain,
and began immediately the construction of a fleet. Officers and men
worked with the greatest ardor, and the commodore, as Macdonough was
now called by courtesy, might often have been seen handling the saw and
plane. A corvette, called the Saratoga, and meant for the commodore's
flagship, was begun, with several smaller vessels; and so rapidly did
they advance that only a few weeks from the time the trees were cut
down in the forest the vessels were launched and being made ready for
their guns. These had to be dragged many hundreds of miles through
a pathless wilderness, such as the northern and western part of New
York was then. It was difficult, but still it could be done. When it
came to transporting the cables, though, a point was reached, about
forty miles from the lake shore where the vessels were building, when
it seemed impossible to move a step farther. There were no roads, and
the cables had been brought in ox-wagons, which now came to a complete
standstill. No one knew what to do until an old sailor proposed that
they should stretch each cable its whole length, and men, stationed ten
yards apart, should shoulder it and carry it the forty miles remaining;
and this was actually done.
Meanwhile the British had not been idle, and they too, on the other
side of the lake, had built a frigate, called the Confiance, that
was heavier than the Saratoga, and they had other smaller vessels.
Their commanding officer, Captain Downie, was a worthy antagonist of
Commodore Macdonough, and about the same age, while the British vessels
were manned by seasoned sailors, many of whom had served under Nelson
and Collingwood.
Early in September, 1814, both squadrons being ready to fight,
Commodore Macdonough chose his position with a seaman's eye, in
Plattsburg bay. He knew that his enemy would hunt for him wherever he
might be, and he chose to fight at anchor, rightly supposing that the
British, through their greater experience, could conduct the evolutions
of a squadron better than the Americans; for, while none could be more
daring in action than Macdonough, none was more prudent beforehand. The
exact knowledge he had of the elements for and against him explains
much of his success.
On the night of the 9th of September, in the midst of storm and
tempest, the American squadron made its way up the lake to Plattsburg
harbor. The next morning saw it anchored in the admirable order devised
by Commodore Macdonough's genius. The flagship, Saratoga, the heaviest
ship in the squadron, was in the middle of the line. Ahead of her was
ranged the gun-brig Eagle, commanded by Captain Cassin, who had been
one of Commodore Preble's midshipmen with Macdonough, eleven years
before. The Eagle had shoal water off her beam, so that the head of
the line could not be turned. On the other side of the Saratoga was
the Ticonderoga, a small sloop-of-war, while beyond her was the little
Preble, named for the great commodore, who was no more. There were,
besides, ten small gunboats, of which the Eagle was supported by two,
the Saratoga by three, the Ticonderoga by two, while the remaining two
were to assist the Preble in defending the end of the line. All of the
vessels were riding easily at anchor, and all of them were provided
with springs to their anchors and kedges, to enable them to change
their position at will. The wisdom of this precaution was shown on the
great day for which they were prepared.
On the 11th of September, 1814, a brilliant Sunday morning, just
at sunrise, the dazzling white topsails of the British fleet were
seen passing along the neck of land called Cumberland Head, which
juts into the bay. The American guard-boat pulled in, all hands were
called to quarters in the American squadron, and an American ensign
was set at every masthead. Then on board the flagship was made the
signal for divine service, and Commodore Macdonough, kneeling upon his
quarterdeck, surrounded by his officers and in hearing of his men, with
every head bared, read the prayers appointed to be read before a fight
at sea. After this brief but solemn act all awaited the onset with
steadiness and cheerfulness.
It had been suggested to him that he should issue an extra allowance of
grog to the men, but he replied,--
"No. My men shall go cool into action; they need no stimulant beyond
their native valor."
The American vessels were so skilfully moored that no matter from what
quarter the wind was, the British were obliged to approach them "bows
on," a very dangerous way to attack a bold and skilful enemy.
The British rounded the headland in noble style. The Confiance was
leading, her brave commander, Captain Downie, fatally conspicuous on
her deck, his breast covered with medals gloriously earned. Following
her, came three smaller vessels, the Finch, the Chubb, and the Linnet,
and twelve gunboats, carrying both soldiers and sailors, and each armed
with a single long eighteen-pound carronade.
As the four British ships, each on the same tack, neared the American
line, the Eagle suddenly roared out a broadside. The shot fell short,
and the British squadron came on, with majestic steadiness, without
replying, until the Linnet was abreast of the Ticonderoga. Then the
Linnet let fly a broadside, of which every shot dropped into the
water except one. This one shot, though, struck a chicken-coop on the
Ticonderoga's deck and smashed it, letting out a young game-cock, a
pet with the Ticonderoga's men. The game-cock, delighted to get his
liberty, jumped upon a gun-slide and uttered a long, loud, and defiant
crow at the British vessel, which he seemed to think had directed her
whole broadside at him. The Americans burst into three ringing cheers,
that shook the deck, delighted with the game-cock's courage, which he
proved further by flying up into the rigging and crowing vociferously
all the time the British were advancing.