The Naval History of the United States. Volume 1
by Willis J. Abbot · English · Gutenberg #22305 · 999,425 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Naval History of the United States. Volume 1
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Naval History of the United States. Volume 1
Author: Willis J. Abbot
Release date: August 13, 2007 [eBook #22305]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22305
Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine P. Travers and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NAVAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. VOLUME 1 ***
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine P. Travers and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all
other inconsistencies are as in the original. Author's spelling has
been maintained.
Every chapter heading had an illustration; the corresponding tag has
been removed.]
[Illustration: Spilling Grog on the "Constitution" before Going into
Action.]
THE NAVAL HISTORY
OF THE
UNITED STATES
BY
WILLIS J. ABBOT
With Many Illustrations
_VOLUME ONE_
NEW YORK:
PETER FENELON COLLIER, PUBLISHER.
Copyright, 1886, 1887, 1888, 1890
By
Dodd, Mead and Company
_All rights reserved_
CONTENTS.
THE NAVAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.
_PART I._
BLUE JACKETS OF '76.
CHAPTER I.
Early Exploits upon the Water. -- Gallop's Battle with the
Indians. -- Buccaneers and Pirates. -- Morgan and
Blackbeard. -- Capt. Kidd turns Pirate. -- Downfall of the
Buccaneers' Power.
CHAPTER II.
Expeditions against Neighboring Colonies. -- Romantic Career
of Sir William Phipps. -- Quelling a Mutiny. -- Expeditions
against Quebec.
CHAPTER III.
Opening of the American Revolution. -- The Affair of the
Schooner "St. John." -- The Press-gang and its Work. -- The
Sloop "Liberty." -- Destruction of the "Gaspee." -- The
Boston Tea-party.
CHAPTER IV.
The Beginning of the Navy. -- Lexington and Concord. -- A
Blow Struck in Maine. -- Capture of the "Margaretta." --
Gen. Washington and the Navy. -- Work of Capt. Manly.
CHAPTER V.
Events of 1776. -- The First Cruise of the Regular Navy. --
The "Lexington" and the "Edward." -- Mugford's Brave Fight.
-- Loss of the "Yankee Hero." -- Capt. Manly, and the
"Defence." -- American Vessels in European Waters. -- Good
Work of the "Lexington" and the "Reprisal." -- the British
defeated at Charleston.
CHAPTER VI.
The Career of Paul Jones. -- In Command of the "Providence."
-- Capture of the "Mellish." -- Exploits with the "Alfred."
-- In Command of the "Ranger." -- Sweeping the English
Channel. -- The Descent upon Whitehaven.
CHAPTER VII.
Career of Paul Jones Continued. -- His Descent upon the
Castle of Lord Selkirk. -- The Affair of the Plate. -- The
Descent upon Whitehaven. -- The Battle with the "Drake." --
Lieut. Simpson's Perfidy.
CHAPTER VIII.
Career of Paul Jones Continued. -- His Search for a Ship. --
Given Command of the "Bon Homme Richard." -- Landais and his
Character. -- The Frustrated Mutiny. -- Landais quarrels
with Jones. -- Edinburgh and Leith threatened. -- The
Dominie's Prayer.
CHAPTER IX.
Career of Paul Jones Concluded. -- The Battle between the
"Bon Homme Richard" and the "Serapis." -- Treachery of
Landais. -- Jones's Great Victory. -- Landais steals the
"Alliance." -- Jones in Command of the "Ariel." -- The
"Ariel" in the Storm. -- Arrival in America.
CHAPTER X.
Career of Nicholas Biddle. -- His Exploit at Lewiston Jail.
-- Cruise in the "Randolph." -- Battle with the "Yarmouth."
-- The Fatal Explosion. -- Samuel Tucker. -- His Boyhood. --
Encounter with Corsairs. -- Cruising in the "Franklin." --
In Command of the "Boston." -- Anecdotes of Capt. Tucker.
CHAPTER XI.
Hostilities in 1777. -- American Reverses. -- The British in
Philadelphia. -- The Attack upon Fort Mifflin. -- Cruise of
the "Raleigh" and the "Alfred." -- Torpedo Warfare. -- The
Battle of the Kegs.
CHAPTER XII.
Naval Events of 1778. -- Recruiting for the Navy. -- The
Descent upon New Providence. -- Operations on the Delaware.
-- Capt. Barry's Exploits. -- Destruction of the American
Frigates. -- American Reverses. -- The Capture of the
"Pigot." -- French Naval Exploits.
CHAPTER XIII.
Last Years of the War. -- Disastrous Expedition to the
Penobscot. -- Wholesale Captures on the Newfoundland Banks.
-- French Ships in American Waters. -- Taking of Charleston.
-- The "Trumbull's" Victory and Defeat. -- Capt. Barry and
the "Alliance." -- Close of the War.
CHAPTER XIV.
Work of the Privateers. -- The "Gen. Hancock" and the
"Levant." -- Exploits of the "Pickering" -- the "Revenge."
-- the "Holkar." -- The "Congress" and the "Savage." -- The
"Hyder Ali" and the "Gen. Monk." -- The Whale-Boat
Hostilities. -- The "Old Jersey" Prison-Ship.
CHAPTER XV.
The Navy Disbanded. -- Aggressions of Barbary Corsairs. -- A
Disgraceful Tribute. -- Bainbridge and the Dey. -- Gen.
Eaton at Tunis. -- A Squadron sent to the Mediterranean. --
Decatur and the Spaniards. -- The "Enterprise" and the
"Tripoli." -- American Slaves in Algiers.
CHAPTER XVI.
More Vigorous Policy. -- Commodore Morris sent to the
Mediterranean. -- Porter's Cutting-Out Expedition. --
Commodore Preble sent to the Mediterranean. -- His Encounter
with a British Man-of-War. -- The Loss of the
"Philadelphia." -- Decatur's Daring Adventure.
CHAPTER XVII.
A Stirring Year. -- The Bombardment of Tripoli. -- Decatur's
Hand-to-Hand Fight. -- Lieut. Trippe's Bravery. -- Lieut.
Spence's Bold Deed. -- Somers's Narrow Escape. -- The
Floating Mine. -- The Fatal Explosion. -- Close of the War.
-- The End.
_PART II._
BLUE JACKETS OF 1812.
CHAPTER I.
The Gathering of the War-Cloud. -- The Revolution ended, but
the War for Independence yet unfought. -- Outrages upon
American Sailors. -- The Right of Search. -- Impressment. --
Boyhood of Commodore Porter. -- Early Days of Commodores
Perry and Barney. -- Burning a Privateer. -- The Embargo. --
War Inevitable
CHAPTER II.
War with France. -- The Building of a Navy. -- First Success
for the Americans. -- Cutting out the "Sandwich." -- The
"Constellation" and "L'Insurgente." -- The "Constellation"
and "La Vengeance"
CHAPTER III.
Proposed Reduction of the Navy. -- Renewal of British
Outrages. -- The Affair of the "Baltimore." -- Attack on the
"Leander." -- Encounter between the "Chesapeake" and
"Leopard." -- The "President" and "Little Belt"
CHAPTER IV.
The War on the Ocean. -- Commodore Rodgers's Cruise. -- The
Loss of the "Nautilus." -- First Success for the British. --
The Escape of the "Constitution." -- The "Essex" takes the
"Alert." -- The "Constitution" and the "Guerriere"
CHAPTER V.
An International Debate. -- The "Wasp" and the "Frolic." --
The "United States" and the "Macedonian." -- Ovations to the
Victors
CHAPTER VI.
Bainbridge takes Command of the "Constitution." -- The
Defeat of the "Java." -- Close of the Year's Hostilities on
the Ocean.
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.
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".
CHAPTER IX.
Decatur blockaded at New York. -- Attempts to escape through
Long Island Sound. -- The Flag-Ship struck by Lightning. --
Torpedoes. -- Fulton's Steam-Frigate. -- Action between the
"Chesapeake" and "Shannon".
CHAPTER X.
Cruise of the "Essex." -- A Rich Prize. -- The Mysterious
Letter. -- Cape Horn rounded. -- Capture of a Peruvian
Privateer. -- Among the British Whalers. -- Porter in
Command of a Squadron. -- A Boy Commander. -- The Squadron
lays up at Nookaheevah.
CHAPTER XI.
War with the Savages. -- The Campaign against the Typees. --
Departure from Nookaheevah. -- The "Essex" anchors at
Valparaiso. -- Arrival of the "Phoebe" and "Cherub." -- They
capture the "Essex." -- Porter's Encounter with the
"Saturn." -- The Mutiny at Nookaheevah.
CHAPTER XII.
Capture of the "Surveyor." -- Work of the Gunboat Flotilla.
-- Operations on Chesapeake Bay. -- Cockburn's Depredations.
-- Cruise of the "Argus." -- Her Capture by the "Pelican."
-- Battle Between the "Enterprise" and "Boxer." -- End of
the Year 1813 on the Ocean.
CHAPTER XIII.
On the Lakes. -- Close of Hostilities on Lakes Erie and
Huron. -- Desultory Warfare on Lake Ontario in 1813. --
Hostilities on Lake Ontario in 1814. -- The Battle of Lake
Champlain. -- End of the War upon the Lakes.
CHAPTER XIV.
On the Ocean. -- The Work of the Sloops-of-War. -- Loss of
the "Frolic." -- Fruitless Cruise of the "Adams." -- The
"Peacock" Takes the "Epervier." -- The Cruise of the "Wasp."
-- She Captures the "Reindeer." -- Sinks the "Avon." --
Mysterious End of the "Wasp".
CHAPTER XV.
Operations on the New England Coast. -- The Bombardment of
Stonington. -- Destruction Of the United States Corvette
"Adams." -- Operations on Chesapeake Bay. -- Work of
Barney's Barge Flotilla. -- Advance of the British Upon
Washington. -- Destruction of the Capitol. -- Operations
Against Baltimore. -- Bombardment of Fort McHenry.
CHAPTER XVI.
Desultory Hostilities on the Ocean. -- Attack Upon Fort
Bowyer. -- Lafitte the Pirate. -- British Expedition against
New Orleans. -- Battle of the Rigolets. -- Attack on New
Orleans, and Defeat of the British. -- Work of the
Blue-jackets. -- Capture of the Frigate "President." -- The
"Constitution" takes The "Cyane" and "Levant." -- The
"Hornet" takes the "Penguin." -- End of the War.
CHAPTER XVII.
Privateers and Prisons of the War. -- The "Rossie." -- Salem
Privateers. -- The "Gen. Armstrong" gives Battle to a
British Squadron, and saves New Orleans. -- Narrative of a
British Officer. -- The "Prince de Neufchatel." --
Experiences of American Prisoners of War. -- The End.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Long Peace broken by the War With Mexico. -- Activity of
the Navy. -- Captain Stockton's Stratagem. -- The Battle at
San Jose. -- The Blockade. -- Instances of Personal Bravery.
-- The Loss of the "Truxton." -- Yellow Fever in the
Squadron. -- The Navy at Vera Cruz. -- Capture of Alvarado.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Navy in Peace. -- Surveying the Dead Sea. -- Suppressing
the Slave Trade. -- The Franklin Relief Expedition. --
Commodore Perry in Japan. -- Signing of the Treaty. --
Trouble in Chinese Waters. -- The Koszta Case. -- The Second
Franklin Relief Expedition. -- Foote at Canton. -- "Blood is
Thicker Than Water".
_PART III._
BLUE JACKETS OF '61.
CHAPTER I.
The Opening of the Conflict. -- The Navies of the
Contestants. -- Dix's Famous Despatch. -- The
River-gunboats.
CHAPTER II.
Fort Sumter Bombarded. -- Attempt of the "Star of the West"
to re-enforce Anderson. -- The Naval Expedition to Fort
Sumter. -- The Rescue of the Frigate "Constitution." --
Burning the Norfolk Navy-Yard.
CHAPTER III.
Difficulties of the Confederates in Getting a Navy. --
Exploit of the "French Lady." -- Naval Skirmishing on the
Potomac. -- The Cruise of the "Sumter"
CHAPTER IV.
The Potomac Flotilla. -- Capture of Alexandria. -- Actions
at Matthias Point. -- Bombardment of the Hatteras Forts.
CHAPTER V.
The "Trent" Affair. -- Operations in Albemarle and Pamlico
Sounds. -- Destruction of the Confederate Fleet.
CHAPTER VI.
Reduction of Newbern. -- Exploits of Lieut. Cushing. --
Destruction of the Ram "Albemarle".
CHAPTER VII.
The Blockade-runners. -- Nassau and Wilmington. -- Work of
the Cruisers.
CHAPTER VIII.
Du Pont's Expedition to Hilton Head and Port Royal. -- The
Fiery Circle.
CHAPTER IX.
The First Ironclad Vessels in History. -- The "Merrimac"
sinks the "Cumberland," and destroys the "Congress." -- Duel
between the "Monitor" and "Merrimac".
CHAPTER X.
The Navy in the Inland Waters. -- The Mississippi Squadron.
-- Sweeping the Tennessee River.
CHAPTER XI.
Famous Confederate Privateers, -- The "Alabama," the
"Shenandoah," the "Nashville".
CHAPTER XII.
Work of the Gulf Squadron. -- The Fight at the Passes of the
Mississippi. -- Destruction of the Schooner "Judah." -- The
Blockade of Galveston, and Capture of the "Harriet Lane".
CHAPTER XIII.
The Capture of New Orleans. -- Farragut's Fleet passes Fort
St. Philip and Fort Jackson.
CHAPTER XIV.
Along the Mississippi. -- Forts Jackson and St. Philip
Surrender. -- The Battle at St. Charles. -- The Ram
"Arkansas." -- Bombardment and Capture of Port Hudson.
CHAPTER XV.
On To Vicksburg. -- Bombardment of the Confederate
Stronghold. -- Porter's Cruise in the Forests.
CHAPTER XVI.
Vicksburg Surrenders, and the Mississippi is opened. --
Naval Events along the Gulf Coast.
CHAPTER XVII.
Operations about Charleston. -- The Bombardment, the Siege,
and the Capture.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Battle of Mobile Bay.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Fall of Fort Fisher. -- The Navy ends its Work.
_PART IV._
BLUE JACKETS IN TIME OF PEACE.
CHAPTER I.
Police Service on the High Seas. -- War Service in Asiatic
Ports. -- Losses by the Perils of the Deep. -- A Brush with
the Pirates. -- Admiral Rodgers at Corea. -- Services in
Arctic Waters. -- The Disaster at Samoa. -- The Attack on
the "Baltimore's" Men at Valparaiso. -- Loss of the
"Kearsarge." -- The Naval Review.
CHAPTER II.
The Naval Militia. -- A Volunteer Service which in Time of
War will be Effective. -- How Boys are trained for the Life
of a Sailor. -- Conditions of Enlistment in the Volunteer
Branch of the Service. -- The Work of the Seagoing Militia
in Summer.
CHAPTER III.
How the Navy has Grown. -- The Cost and Character of Our New
White Ships of War. -- Our Period of Naval Weakness and our
Advance to a Place among the Great Naval Powers. -- The New
Devices of Naval Warfare. -- The Torpedo, the Dynamite Gun,
and the Modern Rifle. -- Armor and its Possibilities.
_PART V._
THE NAVAL WAR WITH SPAIN.
CHAPTER I.
The State of Cuba. -- Pertinacity of the Revolutionists. --
Spain's Sacrifices and Failure. -- Spanish Barbarities. --
The Policy of Reconcentration. -- American Sympathy aroused.
-- The Struggle in Congress. -- The Assassination of the
"Maine." -- Report of the Commission. -- The Onward March to
Battle.
CHAPTER II.
The Opening Days of the War. -- The First Blow struck in the
Pacific. -- Dewey and his Fleet. -- The Battle at Manila. --
An Eye-witness' Story. -- Delay and Doubt in the East. --
Dull Times for the Blue-jackets. -- The Discovery of
Cervera. -- Hobson's Exploit. -- The Outlook.
CHAPTER III.
The Spanish Fleet makes a Dash from the Harbor. -- Its total
Destruction. -- Admiral Cervera a Prisoner. -- Great Spanish
Losses. -- American Fleet Loses but one Man.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME ONE
Spilling Grog on the "Constitution" before going into
Action. _Frontispiece_.
Commodore Esek Hopkins.
Siege of Charleston, S.C., May, 1780.
Captain John Paul Jones quelling the Mob at Whitehaven,
Scotland, Nov., 1777.
The Action between the "Bon Homme Richard" and the
"Serapis," September 23, 1779.
Commodore Barry.
Shortening Sail on the "Lancaster"--The Oldest Cruiser in
Commission.
Commodore Decatur.
Derelict.
Cutting Away the Flag.
Commodore Perry.
Barney Regains his Ship.
Toasting the Wooden Walls of Columbia.
Commodore Macdonough.
Hull Makes a Reconnoissance.
The British Squadron.
Lieut. Allen Fires a Shot.
Commodore Rogers Hails.
Explosion on the "President".
"Hull Her, Boys!"
Loading.
Ready to Board.
Engagement of the Frigates "United States" and "Macedonian,"
Christmas Day, 1812.
Assuming to be British Men-of-War.
Marines Picking Off the Enemy.
In the Cross-Trees.
Perry's Recruits.
Drilling the Raw Recruits.
Commodore Perry at the Battle of Lake Erie.
Perry's Victory--The Battle of Lake Erie, September 10,
1813.
Making Ready to Leave the "Lawrence".
Awaiting the Boarders.
"I am Commodore Rogers".
Beating to Quarters.
The Last Shot of the "Chesapeake".
On Board the "Chesapeake".
The Peruvian Privateer.
The Duel at the Galapagos Islands.
Firing the Howitzer.
VOLUME TWO
Destruction of the "Maine," Havana Harbor, Feb. 15, 1898.
_Frontispiece_
The Fight with the "Boxer".
The Surrender of the "Boxer".
On the Way to Lake Erie.
Hiram Paulding Fires the Guns.
The Captain of the "Reindeer".
The End of the "Reindeer".
Lieut. Richmond Pearson Hobson, who Sank the "Merrimac" in
Santiago Harbor, June 3, 1898.
The Descent of Wareham.
Sharp-Shooters.
The March on Washington.
Planning the Attack.
Response to the Call for Volunteers to Accompany Hobson on
the "Merrimac".
The "President" Tries to Escape.
Battleship "Massachusetts".
Prison Chaplain and Jailer.
The Last Volley of the War.
New U. S. Torpedo-Boat "Talbot".
The "Hartford," Farragut's Flagship.
Departure of a Naval Expedition from Port Royal.
Fort Moultrie.
Anderson's Command Occupying Fort Sumter.
Major Robert Anderson.
The "Morris"--Torpedo-Boat of the Smallest Type--46-1/2 Tons
Displacement, 800 Horse-Power.
Blockading the Mouth of the Mississippi.
Flag of the Confederacy.
Naval Patrol on the Potomac.
Attack on the Hatteras Forts.
Spanish Merchant Steamer "Catalina" Captured by the Cruiser
"Detroit," April 24, 1898.
Flag of South Carolina.
Nassau: The Haunt of Blockade-Runners.
Cotton Ships at Nassau.
Marines Saluting on the "Lancaster"--Our Oldest Naval Vessel
in Active Service.
Fortress Monroe.
Du Pont's Expedition Off Cape Hatteras.
The Opening Gun.
Engagement of the "Monitor" and "Merrimac," March 9, 1862.
A River Gunboat.
Engagement of the "Kearsarge" and "Alabama," June 19, 1864.
Rescue of Capt. Semmes.
The "Nashville" Burning a Prize.
Fort Pensacola.
Levee at New Orleans Before the War.
Farragut's Fleet Engaging the Enemy near New Orleans, April
26, 1862.
Breaking the Chain.
Farragut Engaging the Port Hudson (La.) Batteries, March,
1863.
The "Arkansas" under Fire.
Farragut's Fleet Engaging Forts Jackson and St. Philip and
Confederate Fleet on the Mississippi River, below New
Orleans, April 25, 1862.
The Launching of the Battleship "Iowa".
Passing the Vicksburg Batteries.
Bailey's Dam on the Red River.
Engagement Between the U. S. Flagship "Hartford" and the
Confederate Ironclad "Tennessee," Mobile Bay, August 5,
1864.
Warships off Charleston Harbor.
Battle of Mobile Bay--Union Fleet Engaging Fort Morgan and
Confederate Vessels, August 5, 1864.
Forward Turret of Monitor "Terror".
Torpedo-Boat "Cushing".
Dynamite Cruiser "Vesuvius".
Ensign Worth Bagley, of the Torpedo-Boat "Winslow," Killed
May 11, 1898.
Partial View of the Wreck of the "Maine".
Dewey's Victory--The Naval Fight in Manila Bay, May 1, 1898.
The Defeat of Cervera's Fleet--The "Colon" Running Ashore.
The Naval Board of Strategy, 1898.
Rear-Admiral William Thomas Sampson.
Bombardment of San Juan, Puerto Rico, May 13, 1898.
Rear-Admiral George Dewey.
Admiral Sampson's Fleet off Puerto Rico, in Search of
Cervera's Vessels, May 1, 1898.
Admiral Cervera's Fleet Approaching Santiago, May, 1898.
Commodore John Crittenden Watson.
General Miles's Expedition to Puerto Rico, as seen from the
Deck of the "St. Paul".
Hobson Sinking the "Merrimac" in the Entrance to Santiago
Harbor, June 3, 1898.
Rear-Admiral Winfield Scott Schley.
Monitors at League Island Navy Yard, Philadelphia.
Training Ship "Alliance"--Type of the Last Wooden
Sloops-of-War.
Training Ships "Portsmouth" and "Lancaster" at Brooklyn Navy
Yard.
"Racing Home"--The Battleship "Oregon" on her way from San
Francisco to Key West.
Hammock-Inspection on a Battleship.
Armored Cruiser "New York" on her way to Puerto Rico.
New York's Welcome to the Battleship "Texas".
Spanish Merchant Steamer "Panama," Captured April 25, by
Lighthouse Tender "Mangrove".
Forward 13-inch Guns on Battleship "Indiana".
Forward Deck of Dynamite Gun-Vessel "Vesuvius".
Hospital Ship "Relief".
Religious Service on Battleship "Iowa," off Havana.
The Battleship "Maine" Leaving New York for Havana.
Bombardment of Matanzas, Cuba, by the "New York,"
"Cincinnati," and "Puritan," April 27, 1898.
Ironclads in Action.
Bombardment of Forts at Entrance of Santiago Harbor, Cuba,
May 6, 1898.
Torpedo-Boat "Ericsson".
Deck-Tube and Projectile of a Torpedo-Boat.
Crew of the "Indiana" Watching the "New York" Capture a
Prize.
Hurry-Work at Night on Monitor "Puritan" at League Island
Navy Yard, Philadelphia.
PART I
BLUE-JACKETS OF '76.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY EXPLOITS UPON THE WATER. -- GALLOP'S BATTLE WITH THE
INDIANS. -- BUCCANEERS AND PIRATES. -- MORGAN AND
BLACKBEARD. -- CAPT. KIDD TURNS PIRATE. -- DOWNFALL OF THE
BUCCANEERS' POWER.
In May, 1636, a stanch little sloop of some twenty tons was standing
along Long Island Sound on a trading expedition. At her helm stood
John Gallop, a sturdy colonist, and a skilful seaman, who earned his
bread by trading with the Indians that at that time thronged the
shores of the Sound, and eagerly seized any opportunity to traffic
with the white men from the colonies of Plymouth or New Amsterdam. The
colonists sent out beads, knives, bright clothes, and sometimes,
unfortunately, rum and other strong drinks. The Indians in exchange
offered skins and peltries of all kinds; and, as their simple natures
had not been schooled to nice calculations of values, the traffic was
one of great profit to the more shrewd whites. But the trade was not
without its perils. Though the Indians were simple, and little likely
to drive hard bargains, yet they were savages, and little accustomed
to nice distinctions between their own property and that of others.
Their desires once aroused for some gaudy bit of cloth or shining
glass, they were ready enough to steal it, often making their booty
secure by the murder of the luckless trader. It so happened, that,
just before John Gallop set out with his sloop on the spring trading
cruise, the people of the colony were excitedly discussing the
probable fate of one Oldham, who some weeks before had set out on a
like errand, in a pinnace, with a crew of two white boys and two
Indians, and had never returned. So when, on this May morning, Gallop,
being forced to hug the shore by stormy weather, saw a small vessel
lying at anchor in a cove, he immediately ran down nearer, to
investigate. The crew of the sloop numbered two men and two boys,
beside the skipper, Gallop. Some heavy duck-guns on board were no mean
ordnance; and the New Englander determined to probe the mystery of
Oldham's disappearance, though it might require some fighting. As the
sloop bore down upon the anchored pinnace, Gallop found no lack of
signs to arouse his suspicion. The rigging of the strange craft was
loose, and seemed to have been cut. No lookout was visible, and she
seemed to have been deserted; but a nearer view showed, lying on the
deck of the pinnace, fourteen stalwart Indians, one of whom, catching
sight of the approaching sloop, cut the anchor cable, and called to
his companions to awake.
This action on the part of the Indians left Gallop no doubt as to
their character. Evidently they had captured the pinnace, and had
either murdered Oldham, or even then had him a prisoner in their
midst. The daring sailor wasted no time in debate as to the proper
course to pursue, but clapping all sail on his craft, soon brought her
alongside the pinnace. As the sloop came up, the Indians opened the
fight with fire-arms and spears; but Gallop's crew responded with
their duck-guns with such vigor that the Indians deserted the decks,
and fled below for shelter. Gallop was then in a quandary. The odds
against him were too great for him to dare to board, and the pinnace
was rapidly drifting ashore. After some deliberation he put up his
helm, and beat to windward of the pinnace; then, coming about, came
scudding down upon her before the wind. The two vessels met with a
tremendous shock. The bow of the sloop struck the pinnace fairly
amidships, forcing her over on her beam-ends, until the water poured
into the open hatchway. The affrighted Indians, unused to warfare on
the water, rushed upon deck. Six leaped into the sea, and were
drowned; the rest retreated again into the cabin. Gallop then prepared
to repeat his ramming manoeuvre. This time, to make the blow more
effective, he lashed his anchor to the bow, so that the sharp flukes
protruded; thus extemporizing an iron-clad ram more than two hundred
years before naval men thought of using one. Thus provided, the second
blow of the sloop was more terrible than the first. The sharp fluke of
the anchor crashed through the side of the pinnace, and the two
vessels hung tightly together. Gallop then began to double-load his
duck-guns, and fire through the sides of the pinnace; but, finding
that the enemy was not to be dislodged in this way, he broke his
vessel loose, and again made for the windward, preparatory to a third
blow. As the sloop drew off, four or five more Indians rushed from the
cabin of the pinnace, and leaped overboard but shared the fate of
their predecessors, being far from land. Gallop then came about, and
for the third time bore down upon his adversary. As he drew near, an
Indian appeared on the deck of the pinnace, and with humble gestures
offered to submit. Gallop ran alongside, and taking the man on board,
bound him hand and foot, and placed him in the hold. A second redskin
then begged for quarter; but Gallop, fearing to allow the two wily
savages to be together, cast the second into the sea, where he was
drowned. Gallop then boarded the pinnace. Two Indians were left, who
retreated into a small compartment of the hold, and were left
unmolested. In the cabin was found the mangled body of Mr. Oldham. A
tomahawk had been sunk deep into his skull, and his body was covered
with wounds. The floor of the cabin was littered with portions of the
cargo, which the murderous savages had plundered. Taking all that
remained of value upon his own craft, Gallop cut loose the pinnace;
and she drifted away, to go to pieces on a reef in Narragansett Bay.
This combat is the earliest action upon American waters of which we
have any trustworthy records. The only naval event antedating this was
the expedition from Virginia, under Capt. Samuel Argal, against the
little French settlement of San Sauveur. Indeed, had it not been for
the pirates and the neighboring French settlements, there would be
little in the early history of the American Colonies to attract the
lover of naval history. But about 1645 the buccaneers began to commit
depredations on the high seas, and it became necessary for the
Colonies to take steps for the protection of their commerce. In this
year an eighteen-gun ship from Cambridge, Mass., fell in with a
Barbary pirate of twenty guns, and was hard put to it to escape. And,
as the seventeenth century drew near its close, these pests of the sea
so increased, that evil was sure to befall the peaceful merchantman
that put to sea without due preparation for a fight or two with the
sea robbers.
It was in the low-lying islands of the Gulf of Mexico, that these
predatory gentry--buccaneers, marooners, or pirates--made their
headquarters, and lay in wait for the richly freighted merchantmen in
the West India trade. Men of all nationalities sailed under the "Jolly
Roger,"--as the dread black flag with skull and cross-bones was
called,--but chiefly were they French and Spaniards. The continual
wars that in that turbulent time racked Europe gave to the marauders
of the sea a specious excuse for their occupation. Thus, many a
Spanish schooner, manned by a swarthy crew bent on plunder, commenced
her career on the Spanish Main, with the intention of taking only
ships belonging to France and England; but let a richly laden Spanish
galleon appear, after a long season of ill-fortune, and all scruples
were thrown aside, the "Jolly Roger" sent merrily to the fore, and
another pirate was added to the list of those that made the highways
of the sea as dangerous to travel as the footpad infested common of
Hounslow Heath. English ships went out to hunt down the treacherous
Spaniards, and stayed to rob and pillage indiscriminately; and not a
few of the names now honored as those of eminent English discoverers,
were once dreaded as being borne by merciless pirates.
But the most powerful of the buccaneers on the Spanish Main were
French, and between them and the Spaniards an unceasing warfare was
waged. There were desperate men on either side, and mighty stories are
told of their deeds of valor. There were Pierre Francois, who, with
six and twenty desperadoes, dashed into the heart of a Spanish fleet,
and captured the admiral's flag-ship; Bartholomew Portuguese, who,
with thirty men, made repeated attacks upon a great Indiaman with a
crew of seventy, and though beaten back time and again, persisted
until the crew surrendered to the twenty buccaneers left alive;
Francois l'Olonoise, who sacked the cities of Maracaibo and
Gibraltar, and who, on hearing that a man-o'-war had been sent to
drive him away, went boldly to meet her, captured her, and slaughtered
all of the crew save one, whom he sent to bear the bloody tidings to
the governor of Havana.
Such were the buccaneers,--desperate, merciless, and insatiate in
their lust for plunder. So numerous did they finally become, that no
merchant dared to send a ship to the West Indies; and the pirates,
finding that they had fairly exterminated their game, were fain to
turn landwards for further booty. It was an Englishman that showed the
sea rovers this new plan of pillage; one Louis Scott, who descended
upon the town of Campeche, and, after stripping the place to the bare
walls, demanded that a heavy tribute be paid him, in default of which
he would burn the town. Loaded with booty, he sailed back to the
buccaneers' haunts in the Tortugas. This expedition was the example
that the buccaneers followed for the next few years. City after city
fell a prey to the demoniac attacks of the lawless rovers. Houses and
churches were sacked, towns given to the flames, rich and poor
plundered alike; murder was rampant; and men and women were subjected
to the most horrid tortures, to extort information as to buried
treasures.
Two great names stand out pre-eminent amid the host of outlaws that
took part in this reign of rapine,--l'Olonoise and Sir Henry Morgan.
The desperate exploits of these two worthies would, if recounted, fill
volumes; and probably no more extraordinary narrative of cruelty,
courage, suffering, and barbaric luxury could be fabricated. Morgan
was a Welshman, an emigrant, who, having worked out as a slave the
cost of his passage across the ocean, took immediate advantage of his
freedom to take up the trade of piracy. For him was no pillaging of
paltry merchant-ships. He demanded grander operations, and his bands
of desperadoes assumed the proportions of armies. Many were the towns
that suffered from the bloody visitations of Morgan and his men.
Puerto del Principe yielded up to them three hundred thousand pieces
of eight, five hundred head of cattle, and many prisoners. Porto Bello
was bravely defended against the barbarians; and the stubbornness of
the defence so enraged Morgan, that he swore that no quarter should be
given the defenders. And so when some hours later the chief fortress
surrendered, the merciless buccaneer locked its garrison in the
guard-room, set a torch to the magazine, and sent castle and garrison
flying into the air. Maracaibo and Gibraltar next fell into the
clutches of the pirate. At the latter town, finding himself caught in
a river with three men-of-war anchored at its mouth, he hastily built
a fire-ship, put some desperate men at the helm, and sent her, a sheet
of flame, into the midst of the squadron. The admiral's ship was
destroyed; and the pirates sailed away, exulting over their
adversaries' discomfiture. Rejoicing over their victories, the
followers of Morgan then planned a venture that should eclipse all
that had gone before. This was no less than a descent upon Panama, the
most powerful of the West Indian cities. For this undertaking, Morgan
gathered around him an army of over two thousand desperadoes of all
nationalities. A little village on the island of Hispaniola was chosen
as the recruiting station; and thither flocked pirates, thieves, and
adventurers from all parts of the world. It was a motley crew thus
gathered together,--Spaniards, swarthy skinned and black haired; wiry
Frenchmen, quick to anger, and ever ready with cutlass or pistol;
Malays and Lascars, half clad in gaudy colors, treacherous and sullen,
with a hand ever on their glittering creeses; Englishmen, handy alike
with fist, bludgeon, or cutlass, and mightily given to fearful oaths;
negroes, Moors, and a few West Indians mixed with the lawless throng.
Having gathered his band, procured provisions (chiefly by plundering),
and built a fleet of boats, Morgan put his forces in motion. The first
obstacle in his path was the Castle of Chagres, which guarded the
mouth of the Chagres River, up which the buccaneers must pass to reach
the city of Panama. To capture this fortress, Morgan sent his
vice-admiral Bradley, with four hundred men. The Spaniards were
evidently warned of their approach; for hardly had the first ship
flying the piratical ensign appeared at the mouth of the river, when
the royal standard of Spain was hoisted above the castle, and the dull
report of a shotted gun told the pirates that there was a stubborn
resistance in store for them.
Landing some miles below the castle, and cutting their way with
hatchet and sabre through the densely interwoven vegetation of a
tropical jungle, the pirates at last reached a spot from which a clear
view of the castle could be obtained. As they emerged from the forest
to the open, the sight greatly disheartened them. They saw a powerful
fort, with bastions, moat, drawbridge, and precipitous natural
defences. Many of the pirates advised a retreat; but Bradley,
dreading the anger of Morgan, ordered an assault. Time after time did
the desperate buccaneers, with horrid yells, rush upon the fort, only
to be beaten back by the well-directed volleys of the garrison. They
charged up to the very walls, threw over fireballs, and hacked the
timbers with axes, but to no avail. From behind their impregnable
ramparts, the Spaniards fired murderous volleys, crying out.--
"Come on, you English devils, you heretics, the enemies of God and of
the king! Let your comrades who are behind come also. We will serve
them as we have served you. You shall not get to Panama this time."
As night fell, the pirates withdrew into the thickets to escape the
fire of their enemies, and to discuss their discomfiture. As one group
of buccaneers lay in the jungle, a chance arrow, shot by an Indian in
the fort, struck one of them in the arm. Springing to his feet with a
cry of rage and pain, the wounded man cried out as he tore the arrow
from the bleeding wound,--
"Look here, my comrades. I will make this accursed arrow the means of
the destruction of all the Spaniards."
So saying, he wrapped a quantity of cotton about the head of the
arrow, charged his gun with powder, and, thrusting the arrow into the
muzzle, fired. His comrades eagerly watched the flight of the missile,
which was easily traced by the flaming cotton. Hurtling through the
air, the fiery missile fell upon a thatched roof within the castle,
and the dry straw and leaves were instantly in a blaze. With cries of
savage joy, the buccaneers ran about picking up the arrows that lay
scattered over the battle-field. Soon the air was full of the
fire-brands, and the woodwork within the castle enclosure was a mass
of flame. One arrow fell within the magazine; and a burst of smoke and
flame, and the dull roar of an explosion, followed. The Spaniards
worked valiantly to extinguish the flames, and to beat back their
assailants; but the fire raged beyond their control, and the bright
light made them easy targets for their foes. There could be but one
issue to such a conflict. By morning the fort was in the hands of the
buccaneers, and of the garrison of three hundred and fourteen only
fourteen were unhurt. Over the ruins of the fort the English flag was
hoisted, the shattered walls were repaired, and the place made a
rendezvous for Morgan's forces.
On the scene of the battle Morgan drilled his forces, and prepared for
the march and battles that were to come. After some days' preparation,
the expedition set out. The road lay through tangled tropical forests,
under a burning sun. Little food was taken, as the invaders expected
to live on the country; but the inhabitants fled before the advancing
column, destroying every thing eatable. Soon starvation stared the
desperadoes in the face. They fed upon berries, roots, and leaves. As
the days passed, and no food was to be found, they sliced up and
devoured coarse leather bags. For a time, it seemed that they would
never escape alive from the jungle; but at last, weak, weary, and
emaciated, they came out upon a grassy plain before the city of
Panama. Here, a few days later, a great battle was fought. The
Spaniards outnumbered the invaders, and were better provided with
munitions of war; yet the pirates, fighting with the bravery of
desperate men, were victorious, and the city fell into their hands.
Then followed days of murder, plunder, and debauchery. Morgan saw his
followers, maddened by liquor, scoff at the idea of discipline and
obedience. Fearing that while his men were helplessly drunk the
Spaniards would rally and cut them to pieces, he set fire to the city,
that the stores of rum might be destroyed. After sacking the town, the
vandals packed their plunder on the backs of mules, and retraced their
steps to the seaboard. Their booty amounted to over two millions of
dollars. Over the division of this enormous sum great dissensions
arose, and Morgan saw the mutinous spirit spreading rapidly among his
men. With a few accomplices, therefore, he loaded a ship with the
plunder, and secretly set sail; leaving over half of his band, without
food or shelter, in a hostile country. Many of the abandoned
buccaneers starved, some were shot or hanged by the enraged Spaniards;
but the leader of the rapacious gang reached Jamaica with a huge
fortune, and was appointed governor of the island, and made a baronet
by the reigning king of England, Charles the Second.
Such were some of the exploits of some of the more notorious of the
buccaneers. It may be readily imagined, that, with hordes of
desperadoes such as these infesting the waters of the West Indies,
there was little opportunity for the American Colonies to build up any
maritime interests in that direction. And as the merchantmen became
scarce on the Spanish Main, such of the buccaneers as did not turn
landward in search of booty put out to sea, and ravaged the ocean
pathways between the Colonies and England. It was against these
pirates, that the earliest naval operations of the Colonies were
directed. Several cruisers were fitted out to rid the seas of these
pests, but we hear little of their success. But the name of one
officer sent against the pirates has become notorious as that of the
worst villain of them all.
It was in January, 1665, that William III., King of England, issued
"to our true and well-beloved Capt. William Kidd, commander of the
ship 'Adventure,'" a commission to proceed against "divers wicked
persons who commit many and great piracies, robberies, and
depredations on the seas." Kidd was a merchant of New York, and had
commanded a privateer during the last war with France. He was a man of
great courage, and, being provided with a stanch ship and brave crew,
set out with high hopes of winning great reputation and much prize
money. But fortune was against him. For months the "Adventure"
ploughed the blue waves of the ocean, yet not a sail appeared on the
horizon. Once, indeed, three ships were seen in the distance. The men
of the "Adventure" were overjoyed at the prospect of a rich prize. The
ship was prepared for action. The men, stripped to the waist, stood at
their quarters, talking of the coming battle. Kidd stood in the
rigging with a spy-glass, eagerly examining the distant vessels. But
only disappointment was in store; for, as the ships drew nearer, Kidd
shut his spy-glass with an oath, saying,--
"They are only three English men-o'-war."
Continued disappointment bred discontent and mutiny among the crew.
They had been enlisted with lavish promises of prize money, but saw
before them nothing but a profitless cruise. The spirit of discontent
spread rapidly. Three or four ships that were sighted proved to be
neither pirates nor French, and were therefore beyond the powers of
capture granted Kidd by the king. Kidd fought against the growing
piratical sentiment for a long time; but temptation at last overcame
him, and he yielded. Near the Straits of Babelmandeb, at the entrance
to the Red Sea, he landed a party, plundered the adjoining country for
provisions, and, turning his ship's prow toward the straits, mustered
his crew on deck, and thus addressed them:--
"We have been unsuccessful hitherto, my boys," he said, "but take
courage. Fortune is now about to smile upon us. The fleet of the
'Great Mogul,' freighted with the richest treasures, is soon to come
out of the Red Sea. From the capture of those heavily laden ships, we
will all grow rich."
The crew, ready enough to become pirates, cheered lustily: and,
turning his back upon all hopes of an honorable career, Kidd set out
in search of the treasure fleet. After cruising for four days, the
"Adventure" fell in with the squadron, which proved to be under convoy
of an English and a Dutch man-of-war. The squadron was a large one,
and the ships greatly scattered. By skilful seamanship, Kidd dashed
down upon an outlying vessel, hoping to capture and plunder it before
the convoying men-of-war could come to its rescue. But his first shot
attracted the attention of the watchful guardians; and, though several
miles away, they packed on all sail, and bore down to the rescue with
such spirit that the disappointed pirate was forced to sheer off. Kidd
was now desperate. He had failed as a reputable privateer, and his
first attempt at piracy had failed. Thenceforward, he cast aside all
scruples, and captured large ships and small, tortured their crews,
and for a time seemed resolved to lead a piratical life. But there are
evidences that at times this strange man relented, and strove to
return to the path of duty and right. On one occasion, a Dutch ship
crossed the path of the "Adventure," and the crew clamorously demanded
her capture. Kidd firmly refused. A tumult arose. The captain drew his
sabre and pistols, and gathering about him those still faithful,
addressed the mutineers, saying,--
"You may take the boats and go. But those who thus leave this ship
will never ascend its sides again."
The mutineers murmured loudly. One man, a gunner, named William Moore,
stepped forward, saying,--
"You are ruining us all. You are keeping us in beggary and starvation.
But for your whims, we might all be prosperous and rich."
At this outspoken mutiny, Kidd flew into a passion. Seizing a heavy
bucket that stood near, he dealt Moore a terrible blow on the head.
The unhappy man fell to the deck with a fractured skull, and the other
mutineers sullenly yielded to the captain's will. Moore died the next
day; and months after, when Kidd, after roving the seas, and robbing
ships of every nationality, was brought to trial at London, it was
for the murder of William Moore that he was condemned to die. For
Kidd's career subsequent to the incident of the Dutch ship was that of
a hardened pirate. He captured and robbed ships, and tortured their
passengers. He went to Madagascar, the rendezvous of the pirates, and
joined in their revelry and debauchery. On the island were five or six
hundred pirates, and ships flying the black flag were continually
arriving or departing. The streets resounded with shouts of revelry,
with curses, and with the cries of rage. Strong drinks were freely
used. Drunkenness was everywhere. It was no uncommon thing for a
hogshead of wine to be opened, and left standing in the streets, that
any might drink who chose. The pirates, flush with their ill-gotten
gains, spent money on gambling and kindred vices lavishly. The women
who accompanied them to this lawless place were decked out with
barbaric splendor in silks and jewels. On the arrival of a ship, the
debauchery was unbounded. Such noted pirates as Blackbeard, Steed
Bonnet, and Avary made the place their rendezvous, and brought thither
their rich prizes and wretched prisoners. Blackbeard was one of the
most desperate pirates of the age. He, with part of his crew, once
terrorized the officials of Charleston, S.C., exacting tribute of
medicines and provisions. Finally he was killed in action, and sixteen
of his desperate gang expiated their crimes on the gallows.
To Madagascar, too, often came the two female pirates, Mary Read and
Anne Bonny. These women, masquerading in men's clothing, were as
desperate and bloody as the men by whose side they fought. By a
strange coincidence, these two women enlisted on the same ship. Each
knowing her own sex, and being ignorant of that of the other, they
fell in love; and the final discovery of their mutual deception
increased their intimacy. After serving with the pirates, working at
the guns, swinging a cutlass in the boarding parties, and fighting a
duel in which she killed her opponent, Mary Read determined to escape.
There is every evidence that she wearied of the evil life she was
leading, and was determined to quit it; but, before she could carry
her intentions into effect, the ship on which she served was captured,
and taken to England, where the pirates expiated their crimes on the
gallows, Mary Read dying in prison before the day set for her
execution.
After some months spent in licentious revelry at Madagascar, Kidd set
out on a further cruise. During this voyage he learned that he had
been proscribed as a pirate, and a price set on his head. Strange as
it may appear, this news was a surprise to him. He seems to have
deceived himself into thinking that his acts of piracy were simply the
legitimate work of a privateersman. For a time he knew not what to do;
but as by this time the coarse pleasures of an outlaw's life were
distasteful to him, he determined to proceed to New York, and endeavor
to prove himself an honest man. This determination proved to be an
unfortunate one for him; for hardly had he arrived, when he was taken
into custody, and sent to England for trial. He made an able defence,
but was found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged; a sentence which was
executed some months later, in the presence of a vast multitude of
people, who applauded in the death of Kidd the end of the reign of
outlaws upon the ocean.
CHAPTER II.
EXPEDITIONS AGAINST NEIGHBORING COLONIES. -- ROMANTIC CAREER
OF SIR WILLIAM PHIPPS. -- QUELLING A MUTINY. -- EXPEDITIONS
AGAINST QUEBEC.
While it was chiefly in expeditions against the buccaneers, or in the
defence of merchantmen against these predatory gentry, that the
American colonists gained their experience in naval warfare, there
were, nevertheless, some few naval expeditions fitted out by the
colonists against the forces of a hostile government. Both to the
north and south lay the territory of France and Spain,--England's
traditional enemies; and so soon as the colonies began to give
evidence of their value to the mother country, so soon were they
dragged into the quarrels in which the haughty mistress of the seas
was ever plunged. Of the southern colonies, South Carolina was
continually embroiled with Spain, owing to the conviction of the
Spanish that the boundaries of Florida--at that time a Spanish
colony--included the greater part of the Carolinas. For the purpose of
enforcing this idea, the Spaniards, in 1706, fitted out an expedition
of four ships-of-war and a galley, which, under the command of a
celebrated French admiral, was despatched to take Charleston. The
people of Charleston were in no whit daunted, and on the receipt of
the news of the expedition began preparations for resistance. They had
no naval vessels; but several large merchantmen, being in port, were
hastily provided with batteries, and a large galley was converted into
a flag-ship. Having no trained naval officers, the command of the
improvised squadron was tendered to a certain Lieut.-Col. Rhett, who
possessed the confidence of the colonists. Rhett accepted the command;
and when the attacking party cast anchor some miles below the city,
and landed their shore forces, he weighed anchor, and set out to
attack them. But the Spaniards avoided the conflict, and fled out to
sea, leaving their land forces to bear the brunt of battle. In this
action, more than half of the invaders were killed or taken prisoners.
Some days later, one of the Spanish vessels, having been separated
from her consorts, was discovered by Rhett, who attacked her, and
after a sharp fight captured her, bringing her with ninety prisoners
to Charleston.
But it was chiefly in expeditions against the French colonies to the
northward that the naval strength of the English colonies was exerted.
Particularly were the colonies of Port Royal, in Acadia, and the
French stronghold of Quebec coveted by the British, and they proved
fertile sources of contention in the opening years of the eighteenth
century. Although the movement for the capture of these colonies was
incited by the ruling authorities of Great Britain, its execution was
left largely to the colonists. One of the earliest of these
expeditions was that which sailed from Nantasket, near Boston, in
April, 1690, bound for the conquest of Port Royal.
This expedition was under the command of Sir William Phipps, a sturdy
colonist, whose life was not devoid of romantic episodes. Though his
ambitions were of the lowliest,--his dearest wish being "to command a
king's ship, and own a fair brick house in the Green Lane of North
Boston,"--he managed to win for himself no small amount of fame and
respect in the colonies. His first achievement was characteristic of
that time, when Spanish galleons, freighted with golden ingots, still
sailed the seas, when pirates buried their booty, and when the
treasures carried down in sunken ships were not brought up the next
day by divers clad in patented submarine armor. From a weather-beaten
old seaman, with whom he became acquainted while pursuing his trade
of ship-carpentering Phipps learned of a sunken wreck lying on the
sandy bottom many fathoms beneath the blue surface of the Gulf of
Mexico. The vessel had gone down fifty years before, and had carried
with her great store of gold and silver, which she was carrying from
the rich mines of Central and South America to the Court of Spain.
Phipps, laboriously toiling with adze and saw in his ship-yard,
listened to the story of the sailor, his blood coursing quicker in his
veins, and his ambition for wealth and position aroused to its fullest
extent. Here, then, thought he, was the opportunity of a lifetime.
Could he but recover the treasures carried down with the sunken ship,
he would have wealth and position in the colony. With these two allies
at his command, the task of securing a command in the king's navy
would be an easy one. But to seek out the sunken treasure required a
ship and seamen. Clearly his own slender means could never meet the
demands of so great an undertaking. Therefore, gathering together all
his small savings, William Phipps set sail for England, in the hopes
of interesting capitalists there in his scheme. By dint of indomitable
persistence, the unknown American ship-carpenter managed to secure the
influence of certain officials of high station in England, and finally
managed to get the assistance of the British admiralty. A frigate,
fully manned, was given him, and he set sail for the West Indies.
Once arrived in the waters of the Spanish Main, he began his search.
Cruising about the spot indicated by his seafaring informant as the
location of the sunken vessel, sounding and dredging occupied the time
of the treasure-seekers for months. The crew, wearying of the
fruitless search, began to murmur, and signs of mutiny were rife.
Phipps, filled with thoughts of the treasure for which he sought, saw
not at all the lowering looks, nor heard the half-uttered threats, of
the crew as he passed them. But finally the mutiny so developed that
he could no longer ignore its existence.
It was then the era of the buccaneers. Doubtless some of the crew had
visited the outlaws' rendezvous at New Providence, and had told their
comrades of the revelry and ease in which the sea robbers spent their
days. And so it happened that one day, as Phipps stood on the
quarter-deck vainly trying to choke down the nameless fear that had
begun to oppress him,--the fear that his life's venture had proved a
failure,--his crew came crowding aft, armed to the teeth, and loudly
demanded that the captain should abandon his foolish search, and lead
them on a fearless buccaneering cruise along the Spanish Main. The
mutiny was one which might well have dismayed the boldest sea captain.
The men were desperate, and well armed. Phipps was almost without
support; for his officers, by their irresolute and timid demeanor,
gave him little assurance of aid.
Standing on the quarter-deck, Phipps listened impatiently to the
complaints of the mutineers; but, when their spokesman called upon him
to lead them upon a piratical cruise, he lost all control of himself,
and, throwing all prudence to the winds, sprung into the midst of the
malcontents, and laid about him right manfully with his bare fists.
The mutineers were all well armed, but seemed loath to use their
weapons; and the captain, a tall, powerful man, soon awed them all
into submission.
Though he showed indomitable energy in overcoming obstacles, Phipps
was not destined to discover the object of his search at this time;
and, after several months' cruising, he was forced, by the leaky
condition of his vessel, to abandon the search. But, before leaving
the waters of the Spanish Main, he obtained enough information to
convince him that his plan was a practicable one, and no mere
visionary scheme. On reaching England, he went at once to some wealthy
noblemen, and, laying before them all the facts in his possession, so
interested them in the project that they readily agreed to supply him
with a fresh outfit. After a few weeks spent in organizing his
expedition, the treasure-seeker was again on the ocean, making his way
toward the Mexican Gulf. This time his search was successful, and a
few days' work with divers and dredges about the sunken ship brought
to light bullion and specie to the amount of more than a million and a
half dollars. As his ill success in the first expedition had embroiled
him with his crew, so his good fortune this time aroused the cupidity
of the sailors. Vague rumors of plotting against his life reached the
ears of Phipps. Examining further into the matter, he learned that the
crew was plotting to seize the vessel, divide the treasure, and set
out upon a buccaneering cruise. Alarmed at this intelligence, Phipps
strove to conciliate the seamen by offering them a share of the
treasure. Each man should receive a portion, he promised, even if he
himself had to pay it. The men agreed to this proposition; and so
well did Phipps keep his word with them on returning to England, that,
of the whole treasure, only about eighty thousand dollars remained to
him as his share. This, however, was an ample fortune for those times;
and with it Phipps returned to Boston, and began to devote himself to
the task of securing a command in the royal navy.
His first opportunity to distinguish himself came in the expedition of
1690 against Port Royal. Throughout the wars between France and
England, the French settlement of Port Royal had been a thorn in the
flesh of Massachusetts. From Port Royal, the trim-built speedy French
privateers put to sea, and seldom returned without bringing in their
wake some captured coaster or luckless fisherman hailing from the
colony of the Puritans. When the depredations of the privateers became
unbearable, Massachusetts bestirred herself, and the doughty Phipps
was sent with an expedition to reduce their unneighborly neighbor to
subjection. Seven vessels and two hundred and eighty-eight men were
put under the command of the lucky treasure-hunter. The expedition was
devoid of exciting or novel features. Port Royal was reached without
disaster, and the governor surrendered with a promptitude which should
have won immunity for the people of the village. But the Massachusetts
sailors had not undertaken the enterprise for glory alone, and they
plundered the town before taking to their ships again.
This expedition, however, was but an unimportant incident in the naval
annals of the colonies. It was followed quickly by an expedition of
much graver importance.
When Phipps returned after capturing and plundering Port Royal, he
found Boston vastly excited over the preparations for an expedition
against Quebec. The colony was in no condition to undertake the work
of conquest. Prolonged Indian wars had greatly depleted its treasury.
Vainly it appealed to England for aid, but, receiving no
encouragement, sturdily determined to undertake the expedition
unaided. Sailors were pressed from the merchant-shipping. Trained
bands, as the militia of that day was called, drilled in the streets,
and on the common. Subscription papers were being circulated; and
vessel owners were blandly given the choice between voluntarily
loaning their vessels to the colony, or having them peremptorily
seized. In this way a fleet of thirty-two vessels had been collected;
the largest of which was a ship called the "Six Friends," built for
the West India trade, and carrying forty-four guns. This armada was
manned by seamen picked up by a press so vigorous, that Gloucester,
the chief seafaring town of the colony, was robbed of two-thirds of
its men. Hardly had Capt. Phipps, flushed with victory, returned from
his Port Royal expedition, when he was given command of the armada
destined for the capture of Quebec.
Early in August the flotilla set sail from Boston Harbor. The day was
clear and warm, with a light breeze blowing. From his flag-ship Phipps
gave the signal for weighing anchor, and soon the decks of the vessels
thickly strewn about the harbor resounded to the tread of men about
the capstan. Thirty-two vessels of the squadron floated lightly on the
calm waters of the bay; and darting in and out among them were light
craft carrying pleasure-seekers who had come down to witness the
sailing of the fleet, friends and relatives of the sailors who were
there to say farewell, and the civic dignitaries who came to wish the
expedition success. One by one the vessels beat their way down the
bay, and, rounding the dangerous reef at the mouth of the harbor, laid
their course to the northward. It was a motley fleet of vessels. The
"Six Brothers" led the way, followed by brigs, schooners, and many
sloop-rigged fishing-smacks. With so ill-assorted a flotilla, it was
impossible to keep any definite sailing order. The first night
scattered the vessels far and wide, and thenceforward the squadron was
not united until it again came to anchor just above the mouth of the
St. Lawrence. It seemed as though the very elements had combined
against the voyagers. Though looking for summer weather, they
encountered the bitter gales of November. Only after they had all
safely entered the St. Lawrence, and were beyond injury from the
storms, did the gales cease. They had suffered all the injury that
tempestuous weather could do them, and they then had to chafe under
the enforced restraints of a calm.
Phipps had rallied his scattered fleet, and had proceeded up the great
river of the North to within three days' sail of Quebec, when the calm
overtook him. On the way up the river he had captured two French
luggers, and learned from his prisoners that Quebec was poorly
fortified, that the cannon on the redoubts were dismounted, and that
hardly two hundred men could be rallied to its defence. Highly elated
at this, the Massachusetts admiral pressed forward. He anticipated
that Quebec, like Port Royal, would surrender without striking a
blow. Visions of high honors, and perhaps even a commission in the
royal navy, floated across his brain. And while thus hurrying forward
his fleet, drilling his men, and building his air-castles, his further
progress was stopped by a dead calm which lasted three weeks.
How fatal to his hopes that calm was, Phipps, perhaps, never knew. The
information he had wrung from his French prisoners was absolutely
correct. Quebec at that time was helpless, and virtually at his mercy.
But, while the Massachusetts armada lay idly floating on the unruffled
bosom of the river, a man was hastening towards Quebec whose timely
arrival meant the salvation of the French citadel.
This man was Frontenac, then governor of the French colony, and one of
the most picturesque figures in American history. A soldier of France;
a polished courtier at the royal court; a hero on the battle-field,
and a favorite in the ball-room; a man poor in pocket, but rich in
influential connections,--Frontenac had come to the New World to seek
that fortune and position which he had in vain sought in the Old. When
the vague rumors of the hostile expedition of the Massachusetts colony
reached his ears, Frontenac was far from Quebec, toiling in the
western part of the colony. Wasting no time, he turned his steps
toward the threatened city. His road lay through an almost trackless
wilderness; his progress was impeded by the pelting rains of the
autumnal storms. But through forest and through rain he rode fiercely;
and at last as he burst from the forest, and saw towering before him
the rocks of Cape Diamond, a cry of joy burst from his lips. On the
broad, still bosom of the St Lawrence Bay floated not a single hostile
sail. The soldier had come in time.
With the governor in the city, all took courage, and the work of
preparation for the coming struggle went forward with a rush. Far and
wide throughout the parishes was spread the news of war, and daily
volunteers came flocking in to the defence. The ramparts were
strengthened, and cannon mounted. Volunteers and regulars drilled side
by side, until the four thousand men in the city were converted into a
well-disciplined body of troops. And all the time the sentinels on the
Saut au Matelot were eagerly watching the river for the first sign of
the English invaders.
It was before dawn, on the morning of Oct. 16, that the people of the
little city, and the soldiery in the tents, were awakened by the alarm
raised by the sentries. All rushed to the brink of the heights, and
peered eagerly out into the darkness. Far down the river could be seen
the twinkling lights of vessels. As the eager watchers strove to count
them, other lights appeared upon the scene, moving to and fro, but
with a steady advance upon Quebec. The gray dawn, breaking in the
east, showed the advancing fleet. Frontenac and his lieutenants
watched the ships of the enemy round the jutting headland of the Point
of Orleans; and, by the time the sun had risen, thirty-four hostile
craft were at anchor in the basin of Quebec.
The progress of the fleet up the river, from the point at which it had
been so long delayed, had been slow, and greatly impeded by the
determined hostility of the settlers along the banks. The sailors at
their work were apt to be startled by the whiz of a bullet; and an
inquiry as to the cause would have probably discovered some crouching
sharp-shooter, his long rifle in his hand, hidden in a clump of bushes
along the shore. Bands of armed men followed the fleet up the stream,
keeping pace with the vessels, and occasionally affording gentle
reminders of their presence in the shape of volleys of rifle-balls
that sung through the crowded decks of the transports, and gave the
sailor lads a hearty disgust for this river fighting. Phipps tried
repeatedly to land shore parties to clear the banks of skirmishers,
and to move on the city by land. As often, however, as he made the
effort, his troops were beaten back by the ambushed sharp-shooters,
and his boats returned to the ships, bringing several dead and
wounded.
While the soldiery on the highlands of Quebec were eagerly examining
the hostile fleet, the invaders were looking with wonder and
admiration at the scene of surpassing beauty spread out before them.
Parkman, the historian and lover of the annals of the French in
America, thus describes it:--
"When, after his protracted voyage, Phipps sailed into the basin of
Quebec, one of the grandest scenes on the western continent opened
upon his sight. The wide expanse of waters, the lofty promontory
beyond, and the opposing Heights of Levi, the cataract of Montmorenci,
the distant range of the Laurentian Mountains, the warlike rock with
its diadem of walls and towers, the roofs of the Lower Town
clustering on the strand beneath, the Chateau St. Louis perched at the
brink of the cliff, and over it the white banner, spangled with
_fleurs de lis_, flaunting defiance in the clear autumnal air."
Little time was spent, however, in admiration of the scene. When the
click of the last chain-cable had ceased, and, with their anchors
reposing at the bottom of the stream, the ships swung around with
their bows to the current, a boat put off from the flag-ship bearing
an officer intrusted with a note from Phipps to the commandant of the
fort. The reception of this officer was highly theatrical. Half way to
the shore he was taken into a French canoe, blindfolded, and taken
ashore. The populace crowded about him as he landed, hooting and
jeering him as he was led through winding, narrow ways, up stairways,
and over obstructions, until at last the bandage was torn from his
eyes, and he found himself in the presence of Frontenac. The French
commander was clad in a brilliant uniform, and surrounded by his
staff, gay in warlike finery. With courtly courtesy he asked the envoy
for his letter, which, proving to be a curt summons to surrender, he
answered forthwith in a stinging speech. The envoy, abashed, asked for
a written answer.
"No," thundered Frontenac, "I will answer your master only by the
mouths of my cannon, that he may learn that a man like me is not to be
summoned after this fashion. Let him do his best, and I will do mine."
The envoy returned to his craft, and made his report. The next day
hostilities opened. Wheeling his ships into line before the
fortifications, Phipps opened a heavy fire upon the city. From the
frowning ramparts on the heights, Frontenac's cannon answered in kind.
Fiercely the contest raged until nightfall, and vast was the
consumption of gunpowder; but damage done on either side was but
little. All night the belligerents rested on their arms; but, at
daybreak, the roar of the cannonade recommenced.
The gunners of the opposing forces were now upon their mettle, and the
gunnery was much better than the day before. A shot from the shore cut
the flagstaff of the admiral's ship, and the cross of St. George fell
into the river. Straightway a canoe put out from the shore, and with
swift, strong paddle-strokes was guided in chase of the floating
trophy. The fire of the fleet was quickly concentrated upon the
adventurous canoeists. Cannon-balls and rifle-bullets cut the water
about them; but their frail craft survived the leaden tempest, and
they captured the trophy, and bore it off in triumph.
Phipps felt that the incident was an unfavorable omen, and would
discourage his men. He cast about in his mind for a means of
retaliation. Far over the roofs of the city rose a tapering spire,
that of the cathedral in the Upper Town. On this spire, the devout
Catholics of the French city had hung a picture of the Holy Family as
an invocation of Divine aid. Through his spy-glass, Phipps could see
that some strange object hung from the steeple, and, suspecting its
character, commanded the gunners to try to knock it down. For hours
the Puritans wasted their ammunition in this vain target-practice, but
to no avail. The picture still hung on high; and the devout Frenchmen
ascribed its escape to a miracle, although its destruction would have
been more miraculous still.
It did not take long to convince Phipps that in this contest his fleet
was getting badly worsted, and he soon withdrew his vessels to a place
of safety. The flag-ship had been fairly riddled with shot; and her
rigging was so badly cut, that she could only get out of range of the
enemy's guns by cutting her cables, and drifting away with the
current. Her example was soon followed by the remaining vessels.
Sorely crestfallen, Phipps abandoned the fight, and prepared to return
to Boston. His voyage thither was stormy; and three or four of his
vessels never were heard of, having been dashed to pieces by the
waves, or cast away upon the iron-bound coast of Nova Scotia or Maine.
His expedition was the most costly in lives and in treasure ever
undertaken by a single colony, and, despite its failure, forms the
most notable incident in the naval annals of the colonies prior to the
Revolution.
The French colonies continued to be a fruitful source of war and
turmoil. Many were the joint military and naval expeditions fitted out
against them by the British colonies. Quebec, Louisbourg, and Port
Royal were all threatened; and the two latter were captured by
colonial expeditions. From a naval point of view, these expeditions
were but trifling. They are of some importance, however, in that they
gave the colonists an opportunity to try their prowess on the ocean;
and in this irregular service were bred some sailors who fought right
valiantly for the rebellious colonies against the king, and others who
did no less valiant service under the royal banner.
CHAPTER III.
OPENING OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. -- THE AFFAIR OF THE
SCHOONER "ST. JOHN." -- THE PRESS-GANG AND ITS WORK. -- THE
SLOOP "LIBERTY." -- DESTRUCTION OF THE "GASPEE." -- THE
BOSTON TEA-PARTY.
It is unnecessary to enter into an account of the causes that led up
to the revolt of the American Colonies against the oppression of King
George and his subservient Parliament. The story of the Stamp Act, the
indignation of the Colonies, their futile attempts to convince
Parliament of the injustice of the measure, the stern measures adopted
by the British to put down the rising insubordination, the Boston
Massacre, and the battles at Concord and Lexington are familiar to
every American boy. But not every young American knows that almost the
first act of open resistance to the authority of the king took place
on the water, and was to some extent a naval action.
The revenue laws, enacted by the English Parliament as a means of
extorting money from the Colonies, were very obnoxious to the people
of America. Particularly did the colonists of Rhode Island protest
against them, and seldom lost an opportunity to evade the payment of
the taxes.
Between Providence and Newport, illicit trade flourished; and the
waters of Narragansett Bay were dotted with the sail of small craft
carrying cargoes on which no duties had ever been paid. In order to
stop this nefarious traffic, armed vessels were stationed in the Bay,
with orders to chase and search all craft suspected of smuggling. The
presence of these vessels gave great offence to the colonists, and the
inflexible manner in which the naval officers discharged their duty
caused more than one open defiance of the authority of King George.
The first serious trouble to grow out of the presence of the British
cruisers in the bay was the affair of the schooner "St. John." This
vessel was engaged in patrolling the waters of the bay in search of
smugglers. While so engaged, her commander, Lieut. Hill, learned that
a brig had discharged a suspicious cargo at night near Howland's
Ferry. Running down to that point to investigate, the king's officers
found the cargo to consist of smuggled goods; and, leaving a few men
in charge, the cruiser hastily put out to sea in pursuit of the
smuggler. The swift sailing schooner soon overtook the brig, and the
latter was taken in to Newport as a prize. Although this affair
occurred early in 1764, the sturdy colonists even then had little
liking for the officers of the king. The sailors of the "St. John,"
careless of the evident dislike of the citizens of the town, swaggered
about the streets, boasting of their capture, and making merry at the
expense of the Yankees. Two or three fights between sailors and
townspeople so stirred up the landsmen, that they determined to
destroy the "St. John," and had actually fitted up an armed sloop for
that purpose, when a second man-of-war appeared in the harbor and put
a final stopper to the project. Though thus balked of their revenge,
the townspeople showed their hatred for the king's navy by seizing a
battery, and firing several shots at the two armed vessels, but
without effect.
During the same year, the little town of Newport again gave evidence
of the growth of the revolutionary spirit. This time the good old
British custom of procuring sailors for the king's ships by a system
of kidnapping, commonly known as impressment, was the cause of the
outbreak. For some months the British man-of-war "Maidstone" lay in
the harbor of Newport, idly tugging at her anchors. It was a period of
peace, and her officers had nothing to occupy their attention.
Therefore they devoted themselves to increasing the crew of the vessel
by means of raids upon the taverns along the water-front of the city.
The seafaring men of Newport knew little peace while the "Maidstone"
was in port. The king's service was the dread of every sailor; and,
with the press-gang nightly walking the streets, no sailor could feel
secure. All knew the life led by the sailors on the king's ships.
Those were the days when the cat-o'-nine-tails flourished, and the
command of a beardless bit of a midshipmen was enough to send a poor
fellow to the gratings, to have his back cut to pieces by the
merciless lash. The Yankee sailors had little liking for this phase of
sea-life, and they gave the men-of-war a wide berth.
Often it happened, however, that a party of jolly mariners sitting
over their pipes and grog in the snug parlor of some seashore tavern,
spinning yarns of the service they had seen on the gun-decks of his
Majesty's ships, or of shipwreck and adventure in the merchant
service, would start up and listen in affright, as the measured tramp
of a body of men came up the street. Then came the heavy blow on the
door.
"Open in the king's name," shouts a gruff voice outside; and the
entrapped sailors, overturning the lights, spring for doors and
windows, in vain attempts to escape the fate in store for them. The
press-gang seldom returned to the ship empty handed, and the luckless
tar who once fell into their clutches was wise to accept his capture
good-naturedly; for the bos'n's cat was the remedy commonly prescribed
for sulkiness.
As long as the "Maidstone" lay in the harbor of Newport, raids such as
this were of common occurrence. The people of the city grumbled a
little; but it was the king's will, and none dared oppose it. The
wives and sweethearts of the kidnapped sailors shed many a bitter tear
over the disappearance of their husbands and lovers; but what were the
tears of women to King George? And so the press-gang of the
"Maidstone" might have continued to enjoy unopposed the stirring sport
of hunting men like beasts, had the leaders not committed one
atrocious act of inhumanity that roused the long-suffering people to
resistance.
One breezy afternoon, a stanch brig, under full sail, came up the bay,
and entered the harbor of Newport. Her sides were weather-beaten, and
her dingy sails and patched cordage showed that she had just completed
her long voyage. Her crew, a fine set of bronzed and hardy sailors,
were gathered on her forecastle, eagerly regarding the cluster of
cottages that made up the little town of Newport. In those cottages
were many loved ones, wives, mothers, and sweethearts, whom the brave
fellows had not seen for long and weary months; for the brig was just
returning from a voyage to the western coast of Africa.
It is hard to describe the feelings aroused by the arrival of a ship
in port after a long voyage. From the outmost end of the longest
wharf the relatives and friends of the sailors eagerly watch the
approaching vessel, striving to find in her appearance some token of
the safety of the loved ones on board. If a flag hangs at half-mast in
the rigging, bitter is the suspense, and fearful the dread, of each
anxious waiter, lest her husband or lover or son be the unfortunate
one whose death is mourned. And on the deck of the ship the excitement
is no less great. Even the hardened breast of the sailor swells with
emotion when he first catches sight of his native town, after long
months of absence. With eyes sharpened by constant searching for
objects upon the broad bosom of the ocean, he scans the waiting crowd,
striving to distinguish in the distance some well-beloved face. His
spirits are light with the happy anticipation of a season in port with
his loved ones, and he discharges his last duties before leaving the
ship with a blithe heart.
So it was with the crew of the home-coming brig. Right merrily they
sung out their choruses as they pulled at the ropes, and brought the
vessel to anchor. The rumble of the hawser through the hawseholes was
sweet music to their ears; and so intent were they upon the crowd on
the dock, that they did not notice two long-boats which had put off
from the man-of-war, and were pulling for the brig. The captain of the
merchantman, however, noticed the approach of the boats, and wondered
what it meant. "Those fellows think I've smuggled goods aboard," said
he. "However, they can spend their time searching if they want. I've
nothing in the hold I'm afraid to have seen."
The boats were soon alongside; and two or three officers, with a
handful of jackies, clambered aboard the brig.
"Muster your men aft, captain," said the leader, scorning any response
to the captain's salutation. "The king has need of a few fine fellows
for his service."
"Surely, sir, you are not about to press any of these men," protested
the captain. "They are just returning after a long voyage, and have
not yet seen their families."
"What's that to me, sir?" was the response. "Muster your crew without
more words."
Sullenly the men came aft, and ranged themselves in line before the
boarding-officers. Each feared lest he might be one of those chosen to
fill the ship's roll of the "Maidstone;" yet each cherished the hope
that he might be spared to go ashore, and see the loved ones whose
greeting he had so fondly anticipated.
The boarding-officers looked the crew over, and, after consulting
together, gruffly ordered the men to go below, and pack up their
traps.
"Surely you don't propose to take my entire crew?" said the captain of
the brig in wondering indignation.
"I know my business, sir," was the gruff reply, "and I do not propose
to suffer any more interference."
The crew of the brig soon came on deck, carrying their bags of
clothes, and were ordered into the man-o'-war's boats, which speedily
conveyed them to their floating prison. Their fond visions of home had
been rudely dispelled. They were now enrolled in his Majesty's
service, and subject to the will of a blue-coated tyrant. This was all
their welcome home.
When the news of this cruel outrage reached the shore, the indignation
of the people knew no bounds. The thought of their fellow-townsmen
thus cruelly deprived of their liberty, at the conclusion of a long
and perilous voyage, set the whole village in a turmoil. Wild plots
were concocted for the destruction of the man-of-war, that, sullen and
unyielding, lay at her anchorage in the harbor. But the wrong done was
beyond redress. The captured men were not to be liberated. There was
no ordnance in the little town to compete with the guns of the
"Maidstone," and the enraged citizens could only vent their anger by
impotent threats and curses. Bands of angry men and boys paraded the
streets, crying, "Down with the press-gang," and invoking the
vengeance of Heaven upon the officers of the man-of-war. Finally, they
found a boat belonging to the "Maidstone" lying at a wharf. Dragging
this ashore, the crowd procured ropes, and, after pulling the captured
trophy up and down the streets, took it to the common in front of the
Court-House, where it was burned in the presence of a great crowd,
which heaped execrations upon the heads of the officers of the
"Maidstone," and King George's press-gang.
After this occurrence, there was a long truce between the people of
Newport and the officers of the British navy. But the little town was
intolerant of oppression, and the revolutionary spirit broke out again
in 1769. Historians have eulogized Boston as the cradle of liberty,
and by the British pamphleteers of that era the Massachusetts city
was often called a hot-bed of rebellion. It would appear, however,
that, while the people of Boston were resting contentedly under the
king's rule, the citizens of Newport were chafing under the yoke, and
were quick to resist any attempts at tyranny.
It is noticeable, that, in each outbreak of the people of Newport
against the authority of the king's vessels, the vigor of the
resistance increased, and their acts of retaliation became bolder.
Thus in the affair of the "St. John" the king's vessel was fired on,
while in the affair of the "Maidstone" the royal property was actually
destroyed. In the later affairs with the sloop "Liberty" and the
schooner "Gaspee," the revolt of the colonists was still more open,
and the consequences more serious.
In 1769 the armed sloop "Liberty," Capt. Reid, was stationed in
Narragansett Bay for the purpose of enforcing the revenue laws. Her
errand made her obnoxious to the people on the coast, and the
extraordinary zeal of her captain in discharging his duty made her
doubly detested by seafaring people afloat or shore.
On the 17th of July the "Liberty," while cruising near the mouth of
the bay, sighted a sloop and a brig under full sail, bound out.
Promptly giving chase, the armed vessel soon overtook the merchantmen
sufficiently to send a shot skipping along the crests of the waves, as
a polite Invitation to stop. The two vessels hove to, and a boat was
sent from the man-of-war to examine their papers, and see if all was
right. Though no flaw was found in the papers of either vessel, Capt.
Reid determined to take them back to Newport, which was done. In the
harbor the two vessels were brought to anchor under the guns of the
armed sloop, and without any reason or explanation were kept there
several days. After submitting to this wanton detention for two days,
Capt. Packwood of the brig went on board the "Liberty" to make a
protest to Capt. Reid, and at the same time to get some wearing
apparel taken from his cabin at the time his vessel had been captured.
On reaching the deck of the armed vessel, he found Capt. Reid absent,
and his request for his property was received with ridicule. Hot words
soon led to violence; and as Capt. Packwood stepped in to his boat to
return to his ship, he was fired at several times, none of the shots
taking effect.
[Illustration: Siege of Charleston, S.C., May, 1780.
Copyright, 1874, by Johnson, Wilson & Co.]
The news of this assault spread like wildfire in the little town. The
people congregated on the streets, demanding reparation. The
authorities sent a message to Capt. Reid, demanding that the man who
fired the shots be given up. Soon a boat came from the "Liberty,"
bringing a man who was handed over to the authorities as the culprit.
A brief examination into the case showed that the man was not the
guilty party, and that his surrender was a mere subterfuge. The people
then determined to be trifled with no longer, and made preparations to
take vengeance upon the insolent oppressors.
The work of preparation went on quietly; and by nightfall a large
number of men had agreed to assemble at a given signal, and march upon
the enemy. Neither the authorities of the town nor the officers on the
threatened vessel were given any intimation of the impending outbreak.
Yet the knots of men who stood talking earnestly on the street
corners, or looked significantly at the trim navy vessel lying in the
harbor, might have well given cause for suspicion.
That night, just as the dusk was deepening into dark, a crowd of men
marched down the street to a spot where a number of boats lay hidden
in the shadow of a wharf. Embarking in these silently, they bent to
the oars at the whispered word of command; and the boats were soon
gliding swiftly over the smooth, dark surface of the harbor, toward
the sloop-of-war. As they drew near, the cry of the lookout rang
out,--
"Boat ahoy!"
No answer. The boats, crowded with armed men, still advanced.
"Boat ahoy! Answer, or I'll fire."
And, receiving no response, the lookout gave the alarm, and the watch
came tumbling up, just in time to be driven below or disarmed by the
crowd of armed men that swarmed over the gunwale of the vessel. There
was no bloodshed. The crew of the "Liberty" was fairly surprised, and
made no resistance. The victorious citizens cut the sloop's cables,
and allowed her to float on shore near Long Wharf. Then, feeling sure
that their prey could not escape them, they cut away her masts,
liberated their captives, and taking the sloop's boats, dragged them
through the streets to the common, where they were burned on a
triumphal bonfire, amid the cheers of the populace.
But the exploit was not to end here. With the high tide the next day,
the hulk of the sloop floated away, and drifted ashore again on Goat
Island. When night fell, some adventurous spirits stealthily went
over, and, applying the torch to the stranded ship, burned it to the
water's edge. Thus did the people of Newport resist tyranny.
It may well be imagined that so bold a defiance of the royal authority
caused a great sensation. Prolonged and vigorous were the attempts of
the servants of the king to find out the rebellious parties who had
thus destroyed his Majesty's property. But their efforts were in vain.
The identity of the captors of the "Liberty" was carefully concealed,
and even to this day none of their names has become known. But, before
the people of Newport had done talking about this affair, another
outbreak occurred, which cast the capture and destruction of the
"Liberty" into the shade.
This was the affair of the "Gaspee,"--considered by many historians
the virtual opening of the revolutionary struggle of the Colonies
against Great Britain. The "Gaspee," like the "St. John" and the
"Liberty," was an armed vessel stationed in Narragansett Bay to
enforce the revenue. She was commanded by Lieut. Dudingston of the
British navy, and carried eight guns. By pursuing the usual tactics of
the British officers stationed on the American coast, Duddingston had
made himself hated; and his vessel was marked for destruction. Not a
boat could pass between Providence and Newport without being subjected
to search by the crew of the "Gaspee;" and the Yankee sailors swore
darkly, that, when the time was ripe, they would put an end to the
Britisher's officious meddling.
The propitious time arrived one bright June morning in the year 1772,
when the "Gaspee" gave chase to a Newport packet which was scudding
for Providence, under the command of Capt. Thomas Lindsey. The armed
vessel was a clean-cut little craft, and, carrying no heavier load
than a few light guns of the calibre then in vogue, could overhaul
with ease almost any merchantman on the coast. So on this eventful day
she was rapidly overhauling the chase, when, by a blunder of the
pilot, she was run hard and fast upon a spit of sand running out from
Namquit Point, and thus saw her projected prize sail away in triumph.
But the escape of her prize was not the greatest disaster that was to
befall the "Gaspee" that day. Lindsey, finding himself safe from the
clutches of the enemy, continued his course to Providence, and on
arriving at that city reported the condition of the "Gaspee" to a
prominent citizen, who straightway determined to organize an
expedition for the destruction of the pest of marine traffic. He
therefore gave orders to a trusty ship-master to collect eight of the
largest long-boats in the harbor, and, having muffled their oars and
rowlocks, place them at Fenner's Wharf, near a noted tavern.
That night, soon after sunset, as the tradesmen were shutting up their
shops, and the laboring men were standing on the streets talking after
their day's work, a man passed down the middle of each street, beating
a drum, and crying aloud,--
"The schooner 'Gaspee' is ashore on Namquit Point. Who will help
destroy her?"
All who expressed a desire to join in the enterprise were directed to
repair to the Sabin House; and thither, later in the evening, flocked
many of the townspeople carrying guns, powder-flasks, and
bullet-pouches. Within the house all was life and bustle. The great
hall was crowded with determined men, discussing the plan of attack.
Guns stood in every corner, while down in the kitchen a half a dozen
men stood about a glowing fire busily casting bullets. At last, all
being prepared, the party crossed the street to the dock, and
embarked,--a veteran sea-captain taking the tiller of each boat.
On the way down the harbor the boats stopped, and took aboard a number
of paving-stones and stout clubs, as weapons for those who had no
muskets. After this stoppage the boats continued on their way, until,
when within sixty yards of the "Gaspee," the long-drawn hail. "Who
comes there?" rang out over the water. No answer was made, and the
lookout quickly repeated his hail. Capt. Whipple, one of the leaders of
the attack, then responded,--
"I want to come on board."
Dudingston, who was below at the time, rushed on deck, exclaiming,
"Stand off. You can't come aboard."
As Dudingston stood at the side of the "Gaspee" warning off the
assailants, he presented a good mark; and Joseph Bucklin, who pulled
an oar in the leading boat, turned to a comrade and said, "Ephe, lend
me your gun, and I can kill that fellow." The gun was accordingly
handed him, and he fired. Dudingston fell to the deck. Just as the
shot was fired, the leader of the assailants cried out,--
"I am sheriff of the county of Kent. I am come for the commander of
this vessel; and have him I will, dead or alive. Men, spring to your
oars."
In an instant the boats were under the lee of the schooner, and the
attacking party was clambering over the side. The first man to attempt
to board seized a rope, and was clambering up, when one of the British
cut the rope, and let him fall into the water. He quickly recovered
himself, and was soon on deck, where he found his comrades driving the
crew of the "Gaspee" below, and meeting with but little resistance.
A surgeon who was with the party of Americans led the boarders below,
and began the task of tying the hands of the captured crew with strong
tarred cord. While thus engaged, he was called on deck.
"What is wanted, Mr. Brown?" asked he, calling the name of the person
inquiring for him.
"Don't call names, but go immediately into the cabin," was the
response. "There is one wounded, and will bleed to death."
The surgeon went into the captain's cabin, and there found Dudingston,
severely wounded, and bleeding freely. Seeing no cloth suitable for
bandages, the surgeon opened his vest, and began to tear his own shirt
into strips to bind up the wound. With the tenderest care the hurt of
the injured officer was attended to; and he was gently lowered into a
boat, and rowed up the river to Providence.
The Americans remained in possession of the captured schooner, and
quickly began the work of demolition. In the captain's cabin were a
number of bottles of liquor, and for these the men made a rush; but
the American surgeon dashed the bottles to pieces with the heels of
his heavy boots, so that no scenes of drunkenness were enacted. After
breaking up the furniture and trappings of the craft, her people were
bundled over the side into the boats of their captors, and the torch
was set to the schooner. The boats layoff a little distance until the
roaring flames satisfied them that the "Gaspee" would never again
annoy American merchantmen. As the schooner's shotted guns went off
one after the other, the Americans turned their boats' prows homeward,
and soon dispersed quietly to their homes.
It is almost incredible that the identity of the parties to this
expedition was kept a secret until long after the Revolution. Although
the British authorities made the most strenuous efforts, and offered
huge rewards for the detection of the culprits, not one was discovered
until after the Colonies had thrown off the royal yoke, when they came
boldly forward, and boasted of their exploit.
After the destruction of the "Gaspee," the colonists in no way openly
opposed the authority of the king, until the time of those stirring
events immediately preceding the American Revolution. Little was done
on the water to betoken the hatred of the colonists for King George.
The turbulent little towns of Providence and Newport subsided, and the
scene of revolt was transferred to Massachusetts, and particularly to
Boston. In the streets of Boston occurred the famous massacre, and at
the wharves of Boston lay the three ships whose cargo aroused the ire
of the famous Boston tea-party.
To almost every young American the story of the Boston tea-party is as
familiar as his own name,--how the British Parliament levied a tax
upon tea, how the Colonies refused to pay it; and determined to use
none of the article; how British merchants strove to force the tea
upon the unwilling colonists, and how the latter refused to permit the
vessels to unload, and in some cases drove them back to England. At
Philadelphia, Annapolis, Charleston, Newport, and Providence,
disturbances took place over the arrival of the tea-ships; but at
Boston the turbulence was the greatest.
The story of that dramatic scene in the great drama of American
revolution has been told too often to bear repetition. The arrival of
three ships laden with tea aroused instant indignation in the New
England city. Mass meetings were held, the captains of the vessels
warned not to attempt to unload their cargoes, and the consignees were
terrified into refusing to have any thing to do with the tea.
In the midst of an indignation meeting held at the Old South Church, a
shrill war-whoop resounded from one of the galleries. The startled
audience, looking in that direction, saw a person disguised as a
Mohawk Indian, who wildly waved his arms and shouted,--
"Boston Harbor, a tea-pot to-night! Hurrah for Griffin's Wharf."
In wild excitement the meeting adjourned, and the people crowded out
into the streets. Other Indians were seen running down the streets in
the direction of Griffin's Wharf, where the tea-ships were moored, and
thither the people turned their steps.
On reaching the wharf, a scene of wild confusion was witnessed. The
three tea-ships lay side by side at the wharf. Their decks were
crowded with men, many of them wearing the Indian disguise. The
hatches were off the hatchways; and the chests of tea were being
rapidly passed up, broken open, and thrown overboard. There was little
noise, as the workers seemed to be well disciplined, and went about
their work in the bright moonlight with systematic activity. In about
three hours the work was done. Three hundred and forty-two chests of
tea had been thrown overboard, and the rioters dispersed quietly to
their homes.
The incident of the destruction of the tea in Boston Harbor was the
last of the petty incidents that led up to the American Revolution.
Following quick upon it came Lexington, Concord, and Bunker
Hill,--then the great conflict was fairly under way, and the Colonies
were fighting for liberty. What part the sailors of the colonies took
in that struggle, it is the purpose of this book to recount.
CHAPTER IV.
THE BEGINNING OF THE NAVY. -- LEXINGTON AND CONCORD. -- A
BLOW STRUCK IN MAINE. -- CAPTURE OF THE "MARGARETTA." --
GEN. WASHINGTON AND THE NAVY. -- WORK OF CAPT. MANLY.
In treating of the history of the navy during the war of the
Revolution, we must always bear in mind the fact, that, during the
greater part of that war, there was no navy. Indeed, the subject
presents much the same aspect as the celebrated chapter on snakes in
Ireland, which consisted of exactly six words, "There are no snakes in
Ireland." So many of the episodes and incidents of the Revolutionary
war that we chronicle as part of the naval history of that struggle
are naval only in that they took place on the water. The participants
in them were often longshoremen, fishermen, or privateersmen, and but
seldom sailors enrolled in the regular navy of the united colonies.
Nevertheless, these irregular forces accomplished some results that
would be creditable to a navy in the highest state of efficiency and
discipline.
The expense of building vessels-of-war, and the difficulty, amounting
even to impossibility, of procuring cannon for their armament,
deterred the Colonies from equipping a naval force. All the energies
of the revolutionists were directed towards organizing and equipping
the army. The cause of independence upon the ocean was left to shift
for itself. But, as the war spread, the depredations of British
vessels along the coast became so intolerable that some colonies
fitted out armed vessels for self-protection. Private enterprise sent
out many privateers to prey upon British commerce, so that the
opening months of the year 1776 saw many vessels on the ocean to
support the cause of the Colonies. To man these vessels, there were
plenty of sailors; for even at that early day New England had begun to
develop that race of hardy seamen for which she is still noted in this
day of decadence in the American marine. There was, however, a sad
lack of trained officers to command the vessels of the infant navy.
Many Americans were enrolled on the lists of the ships flying the
royal banner of England, but most of these remained in the British
service. The men, therefore, who were to command the ships of the
colonies, were trained in the rough school of the merchant service,
and had smelt gunpowder only when resisting piratical attacks, or in
serving themselves as privateers.
For these reasons the encounters and exploits that we shall consider
as being part of the naval operations of the Revolutionary war were of
a kind that would to-day be regarded as insignificant skirmishes; and
the naval officer of to-day would look with supreme contempt upon most
of his brethren of '76, as so many untrained sea-guerillas.
Nevertheless, the achievements of some of the seamen of the Revolution
are not insignificant, even when compared with exploits of the era of
Farragut; and it must be remembered that the efforts of the devoted
men were directed against a nation that had in commission at the
opening of the war three hundred and fifty-three vessels, and even
then bore proudly the title conferred upon her by the consent of all
nations,--"The Mistress of the Seas."
It was on the 19th of April, 1775, that the redoubtable Major Pitcairn
and his corps of scarlet-coated British regulars shot down the
colonists on the green at Lexington, and then fled back to Boston
followed by the enraged minute-men, who harassed the retreating
redcoats with a constant fire of musketry. The news of the battle
spread far and wide; and wherever the story was told, the colonists
began arming themselves, and preparing for resistance to the
continually increasing despotism of the British authorities.
On the 9th of May, a coasting schooner from Boston put into the little
seaport of Machias on the coast of Maine. The people of the little
town gathered at the wharf, and from the sailors first heard the story
of Lexington and Concord. The yoke of the British Government had
rested lightly on the shoulders of the people of Machias. Far from
the chief cities of the New World, they had heard little of the
continued dissensions between the Colonies and the home Government,
and they heard the story of the rebellion with amazement. But however
unprepared they might have been for the news of the outbreak, their
sympathies went warmly out to their struggling brethren, and they
determined to place themselves shoulder to shoulder with the
Massachusetts colonists in the fight against the oppression of the
British. Their opportunity for action came that very night.
As the sturdy young colonists stood on the deck listening to the
stories of the newly arrived sailors, they could see floating lightly
at anchor near the wharf a trimly rigged schooner flying the ensign of
the British navy. This craft was the "Margaretta," an armed schooner
acting as convoy to two sloops that were then loading with ship-timber
to be used in the service of the king.
The Boston sailors had not yet finished their narrative of the two
battles, when the thought occurred to some of the adventurous
listeners that they might strike a retaliatory blow by capturing the
"Margaretta." Therefore, bidding the sailors to say nothing to the
British of Lexington and Concord, they left the wharf and dispersed
through the town, seeking for recruits. That same evening, sixty
stalwart men assembled in a secluded farm-house, and laid their plans
for the destruction of the schooner. It was then Saturday night, and
the conspirators determined to attack the vessel the next morning
while the officers were at church. All were to proceed by twos and
threes to the wharf, in order that no suspicion might be aroused. Once
at the water-side, they would rush to their boats, and carry the
schooner by boarding.
Sunday morning dawned clear, and all seemed propitious for the
conspirators. The "Margaretta" had then been in port for more than a
week, and her officers had no reason to doubt the loyalty and
friendship of the inhabitants: no whisper of the occurrences in
Massachusetts, nor any hint of the purposes of the people of Machias,
had reached their ears. Therefore, on this peaceful May morning, Capt.
Moore donned his full-dress uniform, and with his brother officers
proceeded to the little church in the village.
Every thing then seemed favorable to the success of the adventure.
The "Margaretta," manned by a sleepy crew, and deserted by her
officers, lay within easy distance of the shore. It seemed as though
the conspirators had only to divide into two parties; and while the
one surrounded the church, and captured the worshipping officers, the
others might descend upon the schooner, and easily make themselves
masters of all.
But the plot failed. History fails to record just how or why the
suspicions of Capt. Moore were aroused. Whether it was that the wary
captain noticed the absence of most of the young men of the
congregation, or whether he saw the conspirators assembling on the
dock, is not known. But certain it is that the good dominie in the
pulpit, and the pious people in the pews, were mightily startled by
the sudden uprisal of Capt. Moore, who sprang from his seat, and,
calling upon his officers to follow him, leaped through the great
window of the church, and ran like mad for the shore, followed by the
rest of the naval party.
There was no more church for the good people of Machias that morning.
Even the preacher came down from his pulpit to stare through his
horn-rimmed glasses at the retreating forms of his whilom listeners.
And, as he stood in blank amazement at the church door, he saw a large
party of the missing young men of his congregation come dashing down
the street in hot pursuit of the retreating mariners. In their hands,
the pursuers carried sabres, cutlasses, old flint-lock muskets,
cumbrous horse-pistols, scythes, and reaping-hooks. The pursued wore
no arms; and, as no boat awaited them at the shore, their case looked
hopeless indeed. But the old salt left in charge of the schooner was
equal to the occasion. The unsabbath-like tumult on the shore quickly
attracted his attention, and with unfeigned astonishment he had
observed his commander's unseemly egress from the church. But, when
the armed band of colonists appeared upon the scene, he ceased to rub
his eyes in wonder, and quickly loaded up a swivel gun, with which he
let fly, over the heads of his officers, and in dangerous proximity to
the advancing colonists. This fire checked the advance of the
conspirators; and, while they wavered and hung back, a boat put off
from the schooner, and soon took the officers aboard. Then, after
firing a few solid shot over the town, merely as an admonition of what
might be expected if the hot-headed young men persisted in their
violent outbreaks, the "Margaretta" dropped down the bay to a more
secluded anchorage.
The defeated conspirators were vastly chagrined at the miscarriage of
their plot; but, nothing daunted, they resolved to attempt to carry
the schooner by assault, since strategy had failed. Therefore, early
the next morning, four young men seized upon a sloop, and, bringing
her up to the wharf, cheered lustily. A crowd soon gathered, and the
project was explained, and volunteers called for. Thirty-five hardy
sailors and woodmen hastily armed themselves with muskets, pitchforks,
and axes; and, after taking aboard a small supply of provisions, the
sloop dropped down the harbor toward the "Margaretta." The captain of
the threatened schooner had observed through his spy-glass the
proceedings at the wharf, and suspected his danger. He was utterly
ignorant of the reason for this sudden hostility on the part of the
people of Machias. He knew nothing of the quarrel that had thus
provoked the rebellion of the colonies. Therefore, he sought to avoid
a conflict; and, upon the approach of the sloop, he hoisted his
anchor, and fled down the bay.
The sloop followed in hot haste. The Yankees crowded forward, and
shouted taunts and jeers at their more powerful enemy who thus strove
to avoid the conflict. Both vessels were under full sail; and the size
of the schooner was beginning to tell, when, in jibing, she carried
away her main boom. Nevertheless, she was so far ahead of the sloop
that she was able to put into Holmes Bay, and take a spar out of a
vessel lying there, before the sloop overtook her. But the delay
incident upon changing the spars brought the sloop within range; and
Capt. Moore, still anxious to avoid an encounter, cut away his boats,
and stood out to sea. With plenty of sea room, and with a spanking
breeze on the quarter, the sloop proved to be the better sailer. Moore
then prepared for battle, and, as the sloop overhauled him, let fly
one of his swivels, following it immediately with his whole broadside,
killing one man. The sloop returned the fire with her one piece of
ordnance, which was so well aimed as to kill the man at the helm of
the "Margaretta," and clear her quarter-deck. The two vessels then
closed, and a hand-to-hand battle began, in which muskets,
hand-grenades, pikes, pitchforks, and cutlasses were used with deadly
effect. The colonists strove to board their enemy, but were repeatedly
beaten back. If any had thought that Capt. Moore's continued efforts
to avoid a conflict were signs of cowardice, they were quickly
undeceived; for that officer fought like a tiger, standing on the
quarter-deck rail, cheering on his men, and hurling hand-grenades down
upon his assailants, until a shot brought him down. The fall of their
captain disheartened the British; and the Americans quickly swarmed
over the sides of the "Margaretta," and drove her crew below.
This victory was no mean achievement for the colonists. The
"Margaretta" was vastly the superior, both in metal and in the
strength of her crew. She was ably officered by trained and courageous
seamen; while the Yankees had no leaders save one Jeremiah O'Brien,
whom they had elected, by acclamation, captain. That the Americans had
so quickly brought their more powerful foe to terms, spoke volumes for
their pluck and determination. Nor were they content to rest with the
capture of the schooner. Transferring her armament to the sloop,
O'Brien set out in search of prizes, and soon fell in with, and
captured, two small British cruisers. These he took to Watertown,
where the Massachusetts Legislature was then in session. The news of
his victory was received with vast enthusiasm; and the Legislature
conferred upon him the rank of captain, and ordered him to set out on
another cruise, and particularly watch out for British vessels
bringing over provisions or munitions of war to the king's troops in
America.
But by this time Great Britain was aroused. The king saw all America
up in arms against his authority, and he determined to punish the
rebellious colonists. A naval expedition was therefore sent against
Falmouth, and that unfortunate town was given to the flames. The
Legislature of Massachusetts then passed a law granting commissions to
privateers, and directing the seizure of British ships. Thereafter the
hostilities on the ocean, which had been previously unauthorized and
somewhat piratical, had the stamp of legislative authority.
Petty hostilities along the coast were very active during the first
few months of the war. The exploits of Capt. O'Brien stirred up seamen
from Maine to the Carolinas, and luckless indeed was the British
vessel that fell into their clutches. At Providence two armed American
vessels re-took a Yankee brig and sloop that had been captured by the
British. At Dartmouth a party of soldiers captured a British armed
brig. In addition to these exploits, the success of the American
privateers, which had got to sea in great numbers, added greatly to
the credit of the American cause.
The first order looking toward the establishment of a national navy
was given by Gen. Washington in the latter part of 1775. The
sagacious general, knowing that the British forces in Boston were
supplied with provisions and munitions of war by sea, conceived the
idea of fitting out some swift-sailing cruisers to intercept the
enemy's cruisers, and cut off their supplies. Accordingly, on his own
authority, he sent out Capt. Broughton with two armed schooners
belonging to the colony of Massachusetts. Broughton was ordered to
intercept two brigs bound for Quebec with military stores. This he
failed to do, but brought in ten other vessels. Congress, however,
directed the release of the captured ships, as it was then intended
only to take such vessels as were actually employed in the king's
service.
By this time Congress had become convinced that some naval force was
absolutely essential to the success of the American cause. In October,
1775, it therefore fitted out, and ordered to sea, a number of small
vessels. Of these the first to sail was the "Lee," under command of
Capt. John Manly, whose honorable name, won in the opening years of
the Revolution, fairly entitles him to the station of the father of
the American navy.
With his swift cruiser, Manly patrolled the New England coast, and was
marvellously successful in capturing British storeships. Washington
wrote to Congress, "I am in very great want of powder, lead, mortars,
and, indeed, most sorts of military stores." Hardly had the letter
been forwarded, when Manly appeared in port with a prize heavy laden
with just the goods for which the commander-in-chief had applied. A
queer coincidence is on record regarding these captured stores. Samuel
Tucker, an able Yankee seaman, later an officer in the American navy,
was on the docks at Liverpool as a transport was loading for America.
As he saw the great cases of guns and barrels of powder marked
"Boston" being lowered into the hold of the vessel, he said to a
friend who stood with him, "I would walk barefoot one hundred miles,
if by that means these arms could only take the direction of
Cambridge." Three months later Tucker was in Washington's camp at
Cambridge, and there saw the very arms he had so coveted on the
Liverpool docks. They had been captured by Capt. Manly.
Manly's activity proved very harassing to the British, and the
sloop-of-war "Falcon" was sent out to capture the Yankee. She fell in
with the "Lee" near Gloucester, just as the latter was making for
that port with a merchant schooner in convoy. Manly, seeing that the
Englishman was too heavy for him, deserted his convoy and ran into the
port, where he anchored, out of reach of the sloop's guns. Capt.
Lindzee of the "Falcon" stopped to capture the abandoned schooner, and
then taking his vessel to the mouth of the port, anchored her in such
a way as to prevent any escape for the "Lee." He then prepared to
capture the Yankee by boarding. The "Falcon" drew too much water to
run alongside the "Lee" at the anchorage Manly had chosen; and the
Englishman therefore put his men in large barges, and with a force of
about forty men set out to capture the schooner. Manly saw the force
that was to be brought against him, and sent his men to quarters,
preparing for a desperate resistance. The schooner was lying near the
shore; and the townspeople and militia gathered by the water-side,
with guns in their hands, prepared to lend their aid to the brave
defenders of the "Lee." As the three barges drew near the schooner,
Manly mounted the rail, and hailed them, warning them to keep off lest
he fire upon them.
"Fire, and be hanged to you," was the response of the lieutenant in
command of the assailants. "We have no fear of traitors."
So saying, the British pressed on through a fierce storm of musketry
from the deck of the schooner and from the shore. They showed no lack
of courage. The lieutenant himself brought his boat under the cabin
windows, and was in the act of boarding, when a shot from the shore
struck him in the thigh, and he was carried back to the man-of-war.
Capt. Lindzee, who had watched the progress of the fight from the deck
of the "Falcon," was greatly enraged when his lieutenant was thus
disabled; and he hastily despatched re-enforcements to the scene of
action, and directed the gunners on the "Falcon" to commence a
cannonade of the town.
"Now," said he with an oath, "my boys, we will aim at the Presbyterian
church. Well, my brave fellows, one shot more, and the house of God
will fall before you."
But the British were fairly outfought, and the outcome of the battle
was disastrous to them. A newspaper of the period, speaking of the
fight says, "Under God, our little party at the water-side performed
wonders; for they soon made themselves masters of both the schooners,
the cutter, the two barges, the boat, and every man in them, and all
that pertained to them. In the action, which lasted several hours, we
have lost but one man; two others wounded,--one of whom is since dead,
the other very slightly wounded. We took of the man-of-war's men
thirty-five; several are wounded, and one since dead; twenty-four are
sent to headquarters. The remainder, being impressed from this and
neighboring towns, are permitted to return to their friends. This
morning Capt. Lindzee warped off with but one-half of his men, with
neither a prize-boat nor tender, except a small skiff the wounded
lieutenant returned in."
The work done by the small armed schooners of which the "Lee" was a
type encouraged Congress to proceed with the work of organizing a
regular navy; and by the end of 1775 that body had authorized the
building of thirteen war-vessels carrying from twenty-four to
thirty-two guns each. But as some naval force was obviously necessary
during the construction of this fleet, five vessels were procured, and
the new navy was organized with the following roster of officers:--
Esek Hopkins _Commander-in-chief._
Dudley Saltonstall _Captain of the "Alfred."_
Abraham Whipple _Captain of the "Columbus."_
Nicholas Biddle _Captain of the "Andrea Doria."_
John B. Hopkins _Captain of the "Cabot."_
A long list of lieutenants was also provided, among whom stands out
boldly the name of John Paul Jones. John Manly, whose dashing work in
the schooner "Lee" we have already noticed, was left in command of his
little craft until the thirty-two-gun ship "Hancock" was completed,
when he was put in charge of her.
It may possibly have occurred to some of my readers to wonder what
flag floated from the mastheads of these ships. There is much
confusion upon this point, and not a little uncertainty. There were
three classes of American armed vessels on the seas. First were the
privateers, that sailed under any flag that might suit their purpose.
Next came the vessels fitted out and commissioned by the individual
colonies; these usually floated the flag of the colony from which they
hailed. Last came the vessels commissioned by Congress, which at the
outset floated many banners of diverse kinds. It fell to the lot of
Lieut. Paul Jones, however, to hoist the first authorized American
flag over a regularly commissioned vessel-of-war. This flag was of
bunting, showing a pine-tree on a plain white ground, with the words
"Liberty Tree" and "Appeal to God" prominently displayed. This flag
was chiefly used until the adoption of the stars and stripes. The
"rattlesnake flag," with a reptile in the act of striking, and the
legend "Don't tread on me," was largely used by the privateers.
The year 1775 closed with but little activity upon the ocean. The
ships of the regular navy were late in getting into commission, and an
early winter impeded their usefulness. Some little work was done by
privateers and the ships of the different colonies, and the ships of
the British navy were kept fully occupied in guarding against the
operations of these gentry. The man-of-war "Nautilus" chased an
American privateer into a little cove near Beverly, and in the heat of
the chase both vessels ran aground. The people on shore put off to the
privateer, and quickly stripped her of her cordage and armament, and
with the guns built a small battery by the water-side, from which they
opened a telling fire upon the stranded "Nautilus." The man-of-war
returned in kind, and did some slight damage to the town; but when the
tide had risen she slipped her cables and departed. Such desultory
encounters were of frequent occurrence, but no naval battles of any
importance took place until the spring of 1776.
[Illustration: Commodore Esek Hopkins.]
CHAPTER V.
EVENTS OF 1776. -- THE FIRST CRUISE OF THE REGULAR NAVY. --
THE "LEXINGTON" AND THE "EDWARD." -- MUGFORD'S BRAVE FIGHT.
-- LOSS OF THE "YANKEE HERO." -- CAPT. MANLY, AND THE
"DEFENCE." -- AMERICAN VESSELS IN EUROPEAN WATERS. -- GOOD
WORK OF THE "LEXINGTON" AND THE "REPRISAL." -- THE BRITISH
DEFEATED AT CHARLESTON.
The year 1776 witnessed some good service done for the cause of
liberty by the little colonial navy. The squadron, under the command
of Ezekiel Hopkins, left the Delaware in February, as soon as the ice
had left the river, and made a descent upon the island of New
Providence, where the British had established a naval station. The
force under Hopkins consisted of seven vessels-of-war, and one
despatch-boat. The attack was successful in every way, a landing party
of three hundred marines and sailors which was sent ashore meeting
with but little resistance from the British garrison. By this exploit,
the Americans captured over a hundred cannon, and a great quantity of
naval stores.
After this exploit, Hopkins left New Providence, carrying away with
him the governor and one or two notable citizens, and continued his
cruise. His course was shaped to the northward, and early in April he
found himself off the shore of Long Island. He had picked up a couple
of insignificant British vessels,--one a tender of six guns, and the
other an eight-gun bomb-brig. But his cruise had been mainly barren of
results; and his crew, who had looked forward to sharp service and
plenty of prize-money, were beginning to grumble. But their inactivity
was not of long duration; for before daylight on the morning of April
6, the lookout at the masthead of the "Alfred" sighted a large ship,
bearing down upon the American squadron. The night was clear and
beautiful, the wind light, and the sea smooth; and so, although it
lacked several hours to daylight, the commanders determined to give
battle to the stranger. Soon, therefore, the roll of the drums beating
to quarters was heard over the water, and the angry glare of the
battle lanterns on the gun-decks made the open ports of the war-ships
stand out like fiery eyes against the black hulls. The Englishman, who
proved later to be the "Glasgow," twenty guns, carrying one hundred
and fifty men, might easily have escaped; but, apparently undaunted by
the odds against him, he awaited the attack. The little "Cabot" was
the first American ship to open fire on the enemy. Her attack, though
sharp and plucky, was injudicious; for two of the Englishman's heavy
broadsides were enough to send her out of the battle for repairs. The
"Glasgow" and the "Alfred" then took up the fight, and exchanged
repeated broadsides; the American vessel suffering the more serious
injuries of the two. After some hours of this fighting, the "Glasgow"
hauled away, and made good her escape, although she was almost
surrounded by the vessels of the American squadron. It would seem that
only the most careless seamanship on the part of the Americans could
have enabled a twenty-gun vessel to escape from four vessels, each one
of which was singly almost a match for her. It is evident that the
Continental Congress took the same view of the matter, for Hopkins was
soon after dismissed from the service.
This action was little to the credit of the sailors of the colonial
navy. Fortunately, a second action during the same month set them in a
better light before the people of the country. This was the encounter
of the "Lexington," Capt. Barry, with the British vessel "Edward," off
the capes of Virginia. The two vessels were laid yard-arm to yard-arm;
and a hot battle ensued, in which the Americans came off the victors.
The career of this little American brig was a rather remarkable one.
The year following her capture of the "Edward," she was again off the
capes of the Delaware, and again fell in with a British ship. This
time, however, the Englishman was a frigate, and the luckless
"Lexington" was forced to surrender. Her captor left the Americans
aboard their own craft, and, putting a prize crew aboard, ordered them
to follow in the wake of the frigate. That night the Americans plotted
the recapture of their vessel. By a concerted movement, they
overpowered their captors; and the "Lexington" was taken into
Baltimore, where she was soon recommissioned, and ordered to cruise in
European waters.
Shortly after the battle between the "Lexington" and the "Edward,"
there was fought in Massachusetts Bay an action in which the Americans
showed the most determined bravery, and which for the courage shown,
and losses suffered on either side, may well be regarded as the most
important of the naval battles of that year. Early in May, a merchant
seaman named Mugford had succeeded, after great importunity, in
securing the command of the armed vessel "Franklin," a small cruiser
mounting only four guns. The naval authorities had been unwilling to
give him the command, though he showed great zeal in pressing his
suit. Indeed, after the appointment had been made, certain damaging
rumors concerning the newly appointed captain reached the ears of the
marine committee, and caused them to send an express messenger to
Boston to cancel Mugford's commission. But the order arrived too late.
Mugford had already fitted out his ship, and sailed. He had been but a
few days at sea, when the British ship "Hope," of four hundred tons
and mounting six guns, hove in sight. More than this, the lookout
reported that the fleet of the British commodore Banks lay but a few
miles away, and in plain sight. Many a man would have been daunted by
such odds. Not so Capt. Mugford. Mustering his men, he showed them the
British ship, told them that she carried heavier metal than the
"Franklin," told them that the British fleet lay near at hand, and
would doubtless try to take a hand in the engagement; then, having
pointed out all the odds against them, he said, "Now, my lads, it's a
desperate case; but we can take her, and win lots of glory and
prize-money. Will you stand by me?"
The jackies wasted no time in debate, but, cheering lustily for the
captain, went to their posts, and made ready for a hot fight. The
naval discipline of the present day was little known, and less
observed, at that time in the American navy. The perfect order which
makes the gun-deck of a ship going into action as quiet and solemn as
during Sunday prayers then gave place to excited talk and bustle. The
men stood in crews at the four guns; but most of the jackies were
mustered on the forecastle, ready to board. All expected a desperate
resistance. Great was their surprise, then, when they were permitted
to take a raking position under the stern of the "Hope," and to board
her without a shot being fired. But as Mugford, at the head of the
boarders, clambered over the taffrail, he heard the captain of the
"Hope" order the men to cut the topsail halliards and ties, with the
intention of so crippling the ship that the British squadron might
overhaul and recapture her.
"Avast there!" bawled Mugford, seeing through the plot in an instant,
and clapping a pistol to the head of the captain; "if a knife is
touched to those ropes, not a man of this crew shall live."
This threat so terrified the captured sailors, that they relinquished
their design; and Mugford, crowding all sail on his prize, soon was
bowling along before a stiff breeze, with the British squadron in hot
pursuit. An examination of the ship's papers showed her to be the most
valuable prize yet taken by the Americans. In her hold were fifteen
hundred barrels of powder, a thousand carbines, a great number of
travelling carriages for cannon, and a most complete assortment of
artillery instruments and pioneer tools. While running for Boston
Harbor, through the channel known as Point Shirley gut, the vessel
grounded, but was soon floated, and taken safely to her anchorage. Her
arrival was most timely, as the American army was in the most dire
straits for gunpowder. It may well be imagined that there was no
longer any talk about revoking Capt. Mugford's commission.
Mugford remained in port only long enough to take a supply of powder
from his prize; then put to sea again. He well knew that the British
fleet that had chased him into Boston Harbor was still blockading the
harbor's mouth, but he hoped to evade it by going out through a
circuitous channel. Unluckily, in thus attempting to avoid the enemy,
the "Franklin" ran aground, and there remained hard and fast in full
view of the enemy. He had as consort the privateer schooner "Lady
Washington," whose captain, seeing Mugford's dangerous predicament,
volunteered to remain near at hand and assist in the defence.
Mugford knew that his case was desperate, and made preparations for a
most determined resistance. Swinging his craft around, he mounted all
four of his guns on that side which commanded the channel in the
direction from which the enemy was expected. Boarding-nettings were
triced up, and strengthened with cables and cordage, to make an
effective barrier against the assaults of boarders. The men were
served with double rations of grog, and set to work sharpening the
cutlasses and spears, with which they were well provided. The work of
preparation was completed none too soon; for about nine o'clock
Mugford heard the rattle of oars in rowlocks, and saw boats gliding
towards the "Franklin" through the darkness.
"Boat ahoy!" he challenged. "Keep off, or I shall fire into you."
"Don't fire," was the response; "we are friends from Boston coming to
your aid."
"We want none of your aid," cried Mugford with an oath. Then, turning
to his crew, he shouted, "Let them have it, boys."
The roar of the cannon then mingled with the rattle of the musketry,
the cries of the wounded, and the shouts and curses of the combatants,
as the British strove to clamber up the sides of the "Franklin." Not
less than two hundred men were engaged on the side of the British, who
advanced to the fray in thirteen large barges, many of them carrying
swivel guns. Several boats dashed in close under the side of the
"Franklin," and their crews strove manfully to board, but were beaten
back by the Yankees, who rained cutlass blows upon them. The long
pikes with which the Americans were armed proved particularly
effective. "One man with that weapon is positive of having killed nine
of the enemy," says a newspaper of that day.
Unhappily, however, the heroic Mugford, while urging on his men to a
more vigorous resistance, was struck by a musket-ball, which inflicted
a mortal wound. At the moment the wound was received, he was reaching
out over the quarter to catch hold of the mast of one of the barges,
in the hope of upsetting her. As he fell to the deck, he called his
first lieutenant, and said, "I am a dead man. Do not give up the
vessel; you will be able to beat them off." Nearly forty years after,
the heroic Lawrence, dying on the deck of the "Chesapeake," repeated
Mugford's words, "Don't give up the ship."
For about half an hour the battle raged fiercely. The British, beaten
back with great loss, returned again and again to the attack. The
boats would come under the lee of the "Franklin;" but, not being
provided with grappling-irons, the British were forced to lay hold of
the gunwales of the enemy with their hands, which the Americans
promptly lopped off with their cutlasses. Shots from the swivel guns
of the Yankee soon stove in two of the boats of the enemy, which sunk,
carrying down many of their crew. After nearly an hour of this
desperate fighting, the British withdrew, having lost about seventy
men. The only loss sustained by the Americans was that of their brave
commander Mugford.
About a month after this battle, there occurred off the coast of
Massachusetts a battle in which the Americans, though they fought with
the most undaunted bravery, were forced to strike their colors to
their adversary. The American was the privateer "Yankee Hero" of
Newburyport. She sailed from that place for Boston on the 7th of June
with only forty men aboard, intending to ship her full complement of
one hundred and twenty at Boston. As the "Hero" rounded Cape Ann, she
sighted a sail on the horizon, but in her short-handed condition did
not think it worth while to give chase. The stranger, however, had
caught sight of the "Hero;" and, a fresh southerly breeze springing
up, she began to close with the American. As she came closer, Capt.
Tracy of the "Yankee Hero" saw that she was a ship-of-war. Despite the
desperate efforts of the Americans to escape, their pursuer rapidly
overhauled them, and soon coming up within half a mile, opened fire
with her bow chasers. The brig returned the fire with a swivel gun,
which had little effect. Seeing this, Capt. Tracy ordered the firing
to cease until the ships should came to close quarters. The stranger
rapidly overhauled the privateer, keeping up all the time a vigorous
fire. Tracy with difficulty restrained the ardor of his men, who were
anxious to try to cripple their pursuer. When the enemy came within
pistol-shot, Tracy saw that the time for action on his part had come,
and immediately opened fire with all the guns and small-arms that
could be brought to bear. The only possible chance for escape lay in
crippling the big craft with a lucky shot; but broadside after
broadside was fired, and still the great ship came rushing along in
the wake of the flying privateer. Closer and closer drew the bulky
man-of-war, until her bow crept past the stern of the "Yankee Hero,"
and the marines upon her forecastle poured down a destructive volley
of musketry upon the brig's crowded deck. The plight of the privateer
was now a desperate one. Her heavy antagonist was close alongside, and
towered high above her, so that the marines on the quarter-deck and
forecastle of the Englishman were on a level with the leading blocks
of the Yankee. From the depressed guns of the frigate, a murderous
fire poured down upon the smaller craft. For an hour and twenty
minutes the two vessels continued the fight, pouring hot broadsides
into each other, and separated by less than a hundred feet of water.
The brisk breeze blowing carried away the clouds of smoke, and left
the men on the deck of the Yankee no protection from sharp-shooters on
the enemy's deck. Accordingly, the execution was frightful. Tracy,
from his post on the quarter-deck, saw his men falling like sheep,
while the continual volleys of the great ship had so cut the cordage
of the weaker vessel that escape was impossible. At last a musket-ball
struck Capt. Tracy in the thigh, and he fell bleeding to the deck. For
a moment his men wavered at their guns; but he called manfully to
them, from where he lay, to fight on boldly for the honor of the
"Yankee Hero." Two petty officers had rushed to his assistance; and he
directed them to lay him upon a chest of arms upon the quarter-deck,
whence he might direct the course of the battle. But, strong though
was his spirit, his body was too weak to perform the task he had
allotted it; and, growing faint from pain and loss of blood, he was
carried below.
He lay unconscious for a few minutes, but was recalled to his senses
by the piteous cries of wounded men by whom he was surrounded. When he
came to himself, he saw the cabin filled with grievously wounded
people, bleeding and suffering for lack of surgical aid. The firing of
the privateer had ceased, but the enemy was still pouring in pitiless
broadsides. Enraged at this spectacle, Capt. Tracy ordered his men to
re-open the conflict, and directed that he be taken in a chair to the
quarter-deck. But, on getting into the chair, he was suddenly seized
with a fainting spell, and gave orders, by signs, that the colors be
struck.
When the inequality of the two enemies is considered, this action
appears to be a most notable reason for pride in the powers of the
Americans. The "Yankee Hero" was a low single-decked vessel of
fourteen guns, while her captor was the British frigate of thirty-two
guns. Yet the little American vessel had held her own for two hours,
and by good gunnery and skilful manoeuvring had succeeded in doing
almost as much damage as she had suffered.
In reading of the naval engagements of the Revolution, one is
impressed with the small sacrifice of life that attended the most
protracted conflicts. Thus in the action just recorded only four men
were killed upon the defeated ship, although for more than an hour the
two vessels had exchanged broadsides a distance of less than a hundred
feet apart. The execution done on the British frigate has never been
recorded, but was probably even less.
Only the most fragmentary account can be given of any naval actions in
the year 1776, except those in which America's great naval hero Paul
Jones took part. Of the trivial encounters that go to complete the
naval annals of the year, only the briefest recountal is necessary.
The work of the little brig "Andrea Doria," Capt. Biddle, deserves a
passing mention. This little fourteen-gun craft had the most wonderful
luck in making prizes. Besides capturing two transports loaded with
British soldiers, she took so many merchantmen, that on one cruise she
brought back to port only five of her original crew, the rest having
all been put aboard prizes.
On the 17th of June, the crew of the Connecticut cruiser "Defence," a
fourteen-gun brig, heard the sound of distant cannonading coming
faintly over the water. All sail was crowded upon the brig, and she
made all possible speed to the scene of conflict. About nightfall, she
fell in with four American schooners that had just been having a
tussle with two heavy British transports. Three of the American
vessels were privateers, the fourth was the little cruiser "Lee" in
which Capt. John Manly had done such brilliant service. The four
schooners had found the transports too powerful for them, and had
therefore drawn off, but were eager to renew the fray with the help of
the "Defence." Accordingly the "Defence" led the way to Nantasket
Roads, where the transports lay at anchor. Capt. Harding wasted little
time in manoeuvring, but, laying his vessel alongside the larger of
the two transports, summoned her commander to strike.
"Ay, ay--I'll strike," was the response from the threatened vessel;
and instantly a heavy broadside was poured into the "Defence." A sharp
action followed, lasting for nearly an hour. The "Defence" bore the
brunt of the conflict, for the four schooners did not come to
sufficiently close quarters to be of much assistance against the
enemy. The gunnery of the Americans proved too much for the enemy,
however; and after losing eighteen men, together with a large number
wounded, the British surrendered. The American vessel was a good deal
cut up aloft, and lost nine of her men. The next morning a third
transport was sighted by the "Defence," and speedily overhauled and
captured. More than five hundred British soldiers were thus captured;
and the British thenceforward dared not treat the Americans as rebels,
lest the colonial army authorities should retaliate upon the British
prisoners in their hands.
It was in the year 1776 that the first naval vessel giving allegiance
to the American Colonies showed herself in European waters. This
vessel was the "Reprisal," Capt. Wickes, a small craft, mounting
sixteen guns. Early in the summer of '76, the "Reprisal" made a cruise
to Martinique, taking several prizes. When near the island, she
encountered the British sloop-of-war "Shark," and a sharp battle
ensued. In size and weight of metal, the two vessels were about evenly
matched; but the "Reprisal" had been sending out so many prize-crews,
that she was short eighty men of her full crew. Therefore, when, after
a brisk interchange of broadsides, the British sloop sheered off, and
left the "Reprisal" to continue her course, Capt. Wickes rejoiced in
his escape as being almost equal to a victory.
After completing this cruise, the "Reprisal" was ordered to France for
the purpose of conveying thither from Philadelphia Benjamin Franklin,
the ambassador sent from the Colonies to interest the French in the
cause of American liberty. While on the way over, she took two or
three prizes, which were sold in France. After landing her
distinguished passenger, she cruised about in the proverbially
tempestuous Bay of Biscay, where she forced several British vessels to
strike to the American flag, then first seen in those waters. On
returning to France to sell his newly captured prizes, Capt. Wickes
found trouble in store for him. The British ambassador at Paris had
declared that the American cruiser was a detestable pirate; and that
for France to permit the pirate to anchor in her harbors, or sell his
prizes in her markets, was equal to a declaration of war against
England. Wickes was, therefore, admonished to take his ships and
prisoners away. But even in that early day Yankee wit was sharp, and
able to extricate its possessor from troublesome scrapes. Wickes knew
that there were plenty of purchasers to be had for his prizes: so,
gathering a few ship-owners together, he took them out to sea beyond
the jurisdiction of France, and there sold them to the highest bidder.
The money thus obtained Wickes used in purchasing vessels suitable for
armed cruisers. While these were fitting out, the "Lexington" and the
"Dolphin" arrived in France, and soon joined the "Reprisal" in a
cruise around the British Islands. The little squadron fairly swept
the Channel and the Irish Sea of merchantmen. The excitement in
England ran high, and the admiralty despatched all the available
men-of-war in search of the marauders. But the swift-sailing cruisers
escaped all pursuers. Once indeed the "Reprisal" came near falling
into the hands of the enemy, but escaped by throwing overboard every
thing movable, sawing away her bulwarks, and even cutting away her
heavy timbers.
The result of this cruise so aroused England, that France no longer
dared to harbor the audacious Yankee cruisers. The "Lexington" and
"Reprisal" were, therefore, ordered to leave European waters
forthwith. The "Lexington" complied first, and when one day out from
the port of Morlaix encountered the British man-of-war cutter "Alert."
The "Alert" was the smaller of the two vessels, but her commander had
in him all that pluck and those sterling seamanlike qualities that
made the name of England great upon the ocean. A stiff breeze was
blowing, and a heavy cross sea running, when the two vessels came
together. The gunners sighted their pieces at random and fired,
knowing little whether the shot would go plunging into the waves, or
fly high into the air. As a result, they carried on a spirited
cannonade for upwards of two hours, with the sole effect of carrying
away the top hamper of the "Alert," and exhausting most of the powder
on the American craft.
Finding his ammunition rapidly giving out, the captain of the
"Lexington" clapped on all sail, and soon showed his crippled
antagonist a clean pair of heels. But so great was the activity of
the crew of the "Alert" that they repaired the damage done aloft, and
in four hours overtook the "American," and opened fire upon her The
battle now became one-sided; for the "Lexington," being short of
powder, could make little resistance to the brisk attack of her
persevering adversary. In less than an hour she was forced to strike
her flag.
The fate of the "Reprisal" was even harder than that of her consort.
While crossing the Atlantic on her way back to the coast of America,
she was overtaken by a furious gale. With furled sails and battened
hatches, the little craft made a desperate fight for life. But the
fierce wind carried away her masts and spars, and the tossing waves
opened her seams, so that it became apparent to all on board that the
fate of the gallant craft, that had so nobly defended the cause of
American liberty, was sealed. As the water rose higher and higher in
the hold, the officers saw that it was no longer a question of the
possibility of saving the ship, but that their lives and those of the
crew were in the greatest danger. Boats were lowered; but the angry
white-capped waves tossed them madly aloft, and, turning them over and
over, sent the poor fellows that manned them to their long account.
All hands then set to work at the construction of a huge raft; and
just as the ship's stern settled, it was pushed off, and all that
could reach it clambered on. A few poor fellows clung to the sinking
ship; and their comrades on the raft saw them crowd on the forecastle,
and heard their despairing cries as the good ship threw her prow high
in the air, and sunk stern foremost to the placid depths of the stormy
ocean. But those on the raft were not destined to escape the fate of
their comrades. The haggard sufferers were doomed to see the frail
structure on which their lives depended go slowly to pieces before the
mighty power of the remorseless sea. Bit by bit their foothold
vanished from beneath them. One by one they were swept off into the
seething cauldron of the storm. At last but one man remained, the cook
of the ill-fated vessel, who floated about for three days on a piece
of wreckage, until, half-starved and nearly crazed, he was picked up
by a passing vessel, and told the tale of the wreck. So ended the
career of the patriotic and gallant Capt. Wickes and his crew, and
such is the fate that every stout fellow braves when he dons his blue
jacket and goes to serve his country on the ocean.
In addition to the exploits of the American cruisers upon the high
seas, certain operations of the British navy along the American coast,
during the year 1776, demand attention. Of these the most important
was the attack by Sir Peter Parker upon Charleston, in September of
that year,--an attack made memorable by the determined courage of the
Americans, the daring exploit of Sergt. Jasper, and the discovery of
the remarkable qualities of palmetto logs as a material for
fortifications.
Charleston was then a town of but a few thousand inhabitants; but,
small as it was, it had become particularly obnoxious to the British
on account of the strong revolutionary sentiment of its people, and
their many open acts of defiance of King George's authority. When the
offensive Stamp Act first was published, the people of Charleston rose
in revolt; and the stamps for the city being stored in an armed
fortress in the bay, known as Castle Johnson, a party of a hundred and
fifty armed men went down the bay, surprised the garrison, captured
the castle, and, loading its guns, defied the authorities. Not until
the promise had been made that the stamps should be sent back to
England, did the rebellious Carolinians lay down their arms. Nor was
their peace of long duration. When the news of the battle of Lexington
reached the little Southern seaport, the people straightway cast about
for an opportunity to strike a blow against the tyranny of England.
The opportunity soon offered itself. An English sloop laden with
powder was lying at St. Augustine, Fla. Learning this, the people of
Charleston fitted out a vessel, which captured the powder-ship, and,
eluding a number of British cruisers, returned safely to Charleston
with fifteen thousand pounds of gunpowder for the colonial army. Soon
after the colonial troops took possession of the forts in the harbor,
and Charleston became a revolutionary stronghold.
Therefore, when the war authorities of Great Britain prepared to take
active, offensive measures against the seaport cities of the
rebellious colonies, Charleston was one of the first points chosen for
attack. It was on the 4th of June, 1776, that the British fleet, under
the command of the veteran admiral, Sir Peter Parker, appeared off
Charleston bar. The colonists had learned of its approach some time
before; and the town was crowded with troops, both regular and
volunteer. Two forts, Johnson and Sullivan, were erected at points
commanding the entrance to the harbor. Troops were thrown out to
oppose the advance of landing parties. The wharves were covered with
breastworks, and the streets leading up from the water-side were
barricaded. There was a great scarceness of lead for bullets; and to
supply that need the leaden sashes, in which window-panes were at that
time set, were melted down. When the fleet of the enemy appeared in
the offing, Charleston was quite ready to give the invaders a warm
reception.
Fort Sullivan was the chief work in the harbor, and against this
Parker began a vigorous cannonade early on the morning of the 28th of
June. The fort had been built of logs of palmetto wood, and was looked
upon with some distrust by its defenders, who did not know how well
that material could withstand cannon-shot; but the opening volley of
the fleet re-assured them. The balls penetrated deep in the soft,
spongy wood without detaching any of the splinters, which, in a
battle, are more dangerous than the shot themselves. The fort soon
replied to the fire of the fleet; and the thunder of three hundred
cannon rang out over the bay, while dense clouds of sulphurous smoke
hid the scene from the eager gaze of the crowds of people on the
housetops of the city.
When the stately ships of the British squadron swung into line before
the little wooden fort, there was hardly a sailor who did not take his
station without a feeling of contempt for the insignificant obstacle
that they were about to sweep from their path. But as the day wore on,
and the ceaseless cannonade seemed to have no effect on the bastions
of the fort, the case began to look serious.
"Mind the commodore, and the fifty-gun ships," was the command
Moultrie gave to the gunners in the fort when the action commenced,
and right well did they heed the injunction. The quarter-decks of the
ships-of-the-line were swept clean of officers. The gunners in the
fort soon found that the fire of the enemy was doing little or no
execution, and they sighted their guns as coolly as though out for a
day's target practice. The huge iron balls crashed through the hulls
of the ships, or swept their decks, doing terrific execution. The
cable of the "Bristol" was shot away, and she swung round with her
stern to the fort. In this position she was raked repeatedly; her
captain was killed, and at one time not an officer remained on her
quarter-deck except the admiral Sir Peter Parker. When the conflict
ceased, this ship alone contained forty killed and seventy-one wounded
men. The other ships suffered nearly as severely. The twenty-eight-gun
ship "Actaeon" grounded during the course of the engagement; and when,
after ten hours' fruitless cannonading, the British abandoned the task
of reducing the fort, and determined to withdraw, she was found to be
immovable. Accordingly Admiral Parker signalled to her officer to
abandon the ship, and set her on fire. This was accordingly done; and
the ship was left with her colors flying, and her guns loaded. This
movement was observed by the Americans, who, in spite of the danger of
an explosion, boarded the ship, fired her guns at the "Bristol,"
loaded three boats with stores, and pulled away, leaving the "Actaeon"
to blow up, which she did half an hour later.
While the battle was at its hottest, and the shot and shell were
flying thick over the fort, the flagstaff was shot away; and the flag
of South Carolina, a blue ground, bearing a silver crescent, fell on
the beach outside the parapet. Sergt. William Jasper, seeing this,
leaped on the bastion, walked calmly through the storm of flying
missiles, picked up the flag, and fastened it upon a sponge-staff.
Then standing upon the highest point of the parapet, in full view of
the ships and the men in the fort, he calmly fixed the staff upright,
and returned to his place, leaving the flag proudly waving. The next
day the governor of the colony visited the fort, and seeking out the
brave sergeant, handed him a handsome sword and a lieutenant's
commission. But Jasper proved to be as modest as he was brave; for he
declined the proffered promotion, with the remark,--
"I am not fit to keep officers' company; I am but a sergeant."
The complete failure of the attack upon Charleston was a bitter pill
for the English to swallow. They had brought against the raw,
untrained forces of the colony some of the finest ships of the boasted
navy of Great Britain. They had fought well and pluckily. The fact
that Sir Peter Parker was in command was in itself a guaranty that the
attack would be a spirited one; and the tremendous loss of life in the
fleet affords convincing proof that no poltroonery lurked among the
British sailors. The loss of the British during the engagement, in
killed and wounded, amounted to two hundred and twenty-five men. The
Americans had ten men killed and twenty-two wounded. Moultrie, the
commandant of the fort, says that after the battle was over they
picked up more than twelve hundred solid shot of different sizes, and
many thirteen-inch shells. Most of the shells that fell within the
fort fell into a large pool of water, which extinguished their fuses,
thus robbing them of their power for evil.
In his report of this battle, Admiral Parker fell into a queer error.
He reports that a large party of men entering the fort met a man going
out, whom they straightway hanged to a neighboring tree, in full view
of the fleet. From this the admiral concluded that there was an
incipient mutiny in the fort, and the ringleader was hanged as an
example. Col. Moultrie, however, explained this by stating that the
man hanging in the tree was simply the coat of a soldier, which had
been carried away by a cannon-shot, and left hanging in the branches.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CAREER OF PAUL JONES. -- IN COMMAND OF THE "PROVIDENCE."
-- CAPTURE OF THE "MELLISH." -- EXPLOITS WITH THE "ALFRED."
-- IN COMMAND OF THE "RANGER." -- SWEEPING THE ENGLISH
CHANNEL. -- THE DESCENT UPON WHITEHAVEN.
We have already spoken of the farcical affair between the fleet under
Ezekiel Hopkins and the English frigate "Glasgow," in which the
English vessel, by superior seamanship, and taking advantage of the
blunders of the Americans, escaped capture. The primary result of this
battle was to cause the dismissal from the service of Hopkins. But his
dismissal led to the advancement of a young naval officer, whose name
became one of the most glorious in American naval annals, and whose
fame as a skilful seaman has not been tarnished by the hand of time.
[Illustration: Captain John Paul Jones Quelling The Mob At White
Haven, Scotland, Nov., 1777.]
At the time of the escape of the "Glasgow," there was serving upon the
"Alfred" a young lieutenant, by name John Paul Jones. Jones was a
Scotchman. His rightful name was John Paul; but for some reason, never
fully understood, he had assumed the surname of Jones, and his record
under the name of Paul Jones forms one of the most glorious chapters
of American naval history. When given a lieutenant's commission in the
colonial navy, Jones was twenty-nine years old. From the day when a
lad of thirteen years he shipped for his first voyage, he had spent
his life on the ocean. He had served on peaceful merchantmen, and
in the less peaceful, but at that time equally respectable,
slave-trade. A small inheritance had enabled him to assume the station
of a Virginia gentleman; and he had become warmly attached to American
ideas and principles, and at the outbreak of the Revolution put his
services at the command of Congress. He was first offered a captain's
commission with the command of the "Providence," mounting twelve guns
and carrying one hundred men. But with extraordinary modesty the young
sailor declined, saying that he hardly felt himself fitted to
discharge the duties of a first lieutenant. The lieutenant's
commission, however, he accepted; and it was in this station that with
his own hands he hoisted the first American flag to the masthead of
the "Alfred."
The wretched fiasco which attended the attack of the American fleet
upon the "Glasgow" was greatly deplored by Jones. However, he
refrained from any criticism upon his superiors, and sincerely
regretted the finding of the court of inquiry, by which the captain of
the "Providence" was dismissed the service, and Lieut. Paul Jones
recommended to fill the vacancy.
The duties which devolved upon Capt. Jones were manifold and arduous.
The ocean was swarming with powerful British men-of-war, which in his
little craft he must avoid, while keeping a sharp outlook for foemen
with whom he was equally matched. More than once, from the masthead of
the "Providence," the lookout could discover white sails of one or
more vessels, any one of which, with a single broadside, could have
sent the audacious Yankee to the bottom. But luckily the "Providence"
was a fast sailer, and wonderfully obedient to her helm. To her good
sailing qualities, and to his own admirable seamanship, Jones owed
more than one fortunate escape. Once, when almost overtaken by a
powerful man-of-war, he edged away until he brought his pursuer on his
weather quarter; then, putting his helm up suddenly, he stood dead
before the wind, thus doubling on his course, and running past his
adversary within pistol-shot of her guns, but in a course directly
opposite to that upon which she was standing. The heavy war-ship went
plunging ahead like a heavy hound eluded by the agile fox, and the
Yankee proceeded safely on her course.
Some days later the "Providence" was lying to on the great banks near
the Isle of Sables. It was a holiday for the crew; for no sails were
in sight, and Capt. Jones had indulgently allowed them to get out
their cod-lines and enjoy an afternoon's fishing. In the midst of
their sport, as they were hauling in the finny monsters right merrily,
the hail of the lookout warned them that a strange sail was in sight.
The stranger drew rapidly nearer, and was soon made out to be a war
vessel. Jones, finding after a short trial that his light craft could
easily outstrip the lumbering man-of-war, managed to keep just out of
reach. Now and then the pursuer would luff up and let fly a broadside;
the shot skipping along over the waves, but sinking before they
reached the "Providence." Jones, who had an element of humor in his
character, responded to this cannonade with one musket, which, with
great solemnity, was discharged in response to each broadside. After
keeping up this burlesque battle for some hours, the "Providence"
spread her sails, and soon left her foe hull down beneath the horizon.
After having thus eluded his pursuer, Jones skirted the coast of Cape
Breton, and put into the harbor of Canso, where he found three British
fishing schooners lying at anchor. The inhabitants of the little
fishing village were electrified to see the "Providence" cast anchor
in the harbor, and, lowering her boats, send two crews of armed
sailors to seize the British craft. No resistance was made, however;
and the Americans burned one schooner, scuttled a second, and after
filling the third with fish, taken from the other two, took her out of
the harbor with the "Providence" leading the way.
From the crew of the captured vessel, Jones learned that at the Island
of Madame, not far from Canso, there was a considerable flotilla of
British merchantmen. Accordingly he proceeded thither with the
intention of destroying them. On arriving, he found the harbor too
shallow to admit the "Providence;" and accordingly taking up a
position from which he could, with his cannon, command the harbor, he
despatched armed boats' crews to attack the shipping. On entering the
harbor, the Americans found nine British vessels lying at anchor.
Ships and brigs, as well as small fishing schooners, were in the
fleet. It was a rich prize for the Americans, and it was won without
bloodshed; for the peaceful fishermen offered no resistance to the
Yankees, and looked upon the capture of their vessels with amazement.
The condition of these poor men, thus left on a bleak coast with no
means of escape, appealed strongly to Jones's humanity. He therefore
told them, that, if they would assist him in making ready for sea such
of the prizes as he wished to take with him, he would leave them
vessels enough to carry them back to England. The fishermen heartily
agreed to the proposition, and worked faithfully for several days at
the task of fitting out the captured vessels. The night before the day
on which Jones had intended leaving the harbor, the wind came on to
blow, and a violent storm of wind and rain set in. Even the usually
calm surface of the little harbor was lashed to fury by the shrieking
wind. The schooner "Sea-Flower"--one of the captured prizes--was torn
from her moorings; and though her crew got out the sweeps, and
struggled valiantly for headway against the driving storm, she drifted
on shore, and lay there a total wreck. The schooner "Ebenezer," which
Jones had brought from Canso laden with fish, drifted on a sunken
reef, and was there so battered by the roaring waves that she went to
pieces. Her crew, after vainly striving to launch the boats, built a
raft, and saved themselves on that.
The next day the storm abated; and Capt. Jones, taking with him three
heavily laden prizes, left the harbor, and turned his ship's prow
homeward. The voyage to Newport, then the headquarters of the little
navy, was made without other incident than the futile chase of three
British ships, which ran into the harbor of Louisbourg. On his
arrival, Jones reported that he had been cruising for forty-seven
days, and in that time had captured sixteen prizes, beside the
fishing-vessels he burned at Cape Breton. Eight of his prizes he had
manned, and sent into port; the remainder he had burned. It was the
first effective blow the colonists had yet struck at their powerful
foe upon the ocean.
Hardly had Paul Jones completed this first cruise, when his mind, ever
active in the service of his country, suggested to him a new
enterprise in which he might contribute to the cause of American
liberty. At this early period of the Revolution, the British were
treating American prisoners with almost inconceivable barbarity. Many
were sent to the "Old Jersey" prison-ship, of whose horrors we shall
read something later on. Others, to the number of about a hundred,
were taken to Cape Breton, and forced to labor like Russian felons in
the underground coal-mines. Jones's plan was bold in its conception,
but needed only energy and promptitude to make it perfectly feasible.
He besought the authorities to give him command of a squadron, that he
might move on Cape Breton, destroy the British coal and fishing
vessels always congregated there, and liberate the hapless Americans
who were passing their lives in the dark misery of underground mining.
His plan was received with favor, but the authorities lacked the means
to give him the proper aid. However, two vessels, the "Alfred" and the
"Providence," were assigned to him; and he went speedily to work to
prepare for the adventure. At the outset, he was handicapped by lack
of men. The privateers were then fitting out in every port; and seamen
saw in privateering easier service, milder discipline, and greater
profits than they could hope for in the regular navy. When, by hard
work, the muster-roll of the "Alfred" showed her full complement of
men shipped, the stormy month of November had arrived, and the golden
hour for success was past.
Nevertheless, Jones, taking command of the "Alfred," and putting the
"Providence" in the command of Capt. Hacker, left Newport, and laid
his course to the northward. When he arrived off the entrance to the
harbor of Louisbourg, he was so lucky as to encounter an English brig,
the "Mellish," which, after a short resistance, struck her flag. She
proved to be laden with heavy warm clothing for the British troops in
Canada. This capture was a piece of great good fortune for the
Americans, and many a poor fellow in Washington's army that winter had
cause to bless Paul Jones for his activity and success.
The day succeeding the capture of the "Mellish" dawned gray and
cheerless. Light flurries of snow swept across the waves, and by noon
a heavy snowstorm, driven by a violent north-east gale, darkened the
air, and lashed the waves into fury. Jones stood dauntless at his post
on deck, encouraging the sailors by cheery words, and keeping the
sturdy little vessel on her course. All day and night the storm
roared; and when, the next morning, Jones, wearied by his ceaseless
vigilance, looked anxiously across the waters for his consort, she was
not to be seen. The people on the "Alfred" supposed, of course, that
the "Providence" was lost, with all on board, and mourned the sad fate
of their comrades. But, in fact, Capt. Hacker, affrighted by the
storm, had basely deserted his leader during the night, and made off
for Newport, leaving Jones to prosecute his enterprise alone.
Jones recognized in this desertion the knell of the enterprise upon
which he had embarked. Nevertheless, he disdained to return to port:
so sending the "Mellish" and a second prize, which the British
afterwards recaptured, back to Massachusetts, he continued his cruise
along the Nova Scotia coast. Again he sought out the harbor of Canso,
and, entering it, found a large English transport laden with
provisions aground just inside the bar. Boats' crews from the "Alfred"
soon set the torch to the stranded ship, and then, landing, fired a
huge warehouse filled with whale-oil and the products of the
fisheries. Leaving the blazing pile behind, the "Alfred" put out again
into the stormy sea, and made for the northward.
As he approached Louisbourg, Jones fell in with a considerable fleet
of British coal-vessels, in convoy of the frigate "Flora." A heavy fog
hung over the ocean; and the fleet Yankee, flying here and there, was
able to cut out and capture three of the vessels without alarming the
frigate, that continued unsuspectingly on her course. Two days later,
Jones snapped up a Liverpool privateer, that fired scarcely a single
gun in resistance. Then crowded with prisoners, embarrassed by prizes,
and short of food and water, the "Alfred" turned her course homeward.
Five valuable prizes sailed in her wake. Anxiety for the safety of
these gave Jones no rest by day or night. He was ceaselessly on the
watch lest some hostile man-of-war should overhaul his fleet, and
force him to abandon his hard-won fruits of victory. All went well
until, when off St. George's Bank, he encountered the frigate
"Milford,"--the same craft to whose cannon-balls Jones, but a few
months before, had tauntingly responded with musket-shots.
It was late in the afternoon when the "Milford" was sighted; and
Jones, seeing that she could by no possibility overtake his squadron
before night, ordered his prizes to continue their course without
regard to any lights or apparent signals from the "Alfred." When
darkness fell upon the sea, the Yankees were scudding along on the
starboard tack, with the Englishman coming bravely up astern. From the
tops of the "Alfred" swung two burning lanterns, which the enemy
doubtless pronounced a bit of beastly stupidity on the part of the
Yankee, affording, as it did, an excellent guide for the pursuer to
steer by. But during the night the wily Jones changed his course. The
prizes, with the exception of the captured privateer, continued on
the starboard tack. The "Alfred" and the privateer made off on the
port tack, with the "Milford" in full cry in their wake. Not until the
morning dawned did the Englishman discover how he had been tricked.
Having thus secured the safety of his prizes, it only remained for
Jones to escape with the privateer. Unluckily, however, the officer
put in charge of the privateer proved incapable, and his craft fell
into hands of the British. Jones, however, safely carried the "Alfred"
clear of the "Milford's" guns, and, a heavy storm coming up, soon
eluded his foe in the snow and darkness. Thereupon he shaped his
course for Boston, where he arrived on the 5th of December, 1776. Had
he been delayed two days longer, both his provisions and his water
would have been exhausted.
For the ensuing six months Jones remained on shore, not by any means
inactive, for his brain was teeming with great projects for his
country's service. He had been deprived of the command of the
"Alfred," and another ship was not easily to be found: so he turned
his attention to questions of naval organization, and the results of
many of his suggestions are observable in the United States navy
to-day. It was not until June 14, 1777, that a command was found for
him. This was the eighteen-gun ship "Ranger," built to carry a
frigate's battery of twenty-six guns. She had been built for the
revolutionary government, at Portsmouth, and was a stanch-built, solid
craft, though miserably slow and somewhat crank. Jones, though
disappointed with the sailing qualities of the craft, was nevertheless
vastly delighted to be again in command of a man-of-war, and wasted no
time in getting her ready for sea.
It so happened, that, on the very day Paul Jones received his
commission as commander of the "Ranger," the Continental Congress
adopted the Stars and Stripes for the national flag. Jones,
anticipating this action, had prepared a flag in accordance with the
proposed designs, and, upon hearing of the action of Congress, had it
run to the masthead, while the cannon of the "Ranger" thundered out
their deep-mouthed greetings to the starry banner destined to wave
over the most glorious nation of the earth. Thus it happened that the
same hand that had given the pine-tree banner to the winds was the
first to fling out to the breezes the bright folds of the Stars and
Stripes.
Early in October the "Ranger" left Portsmouth, and made for the coast
of France. Astute agents of the Americans in that country were having
a fleet, powerful frigate built there for Jones, which he was to take,
leaving the sluggish "Ranger" to be sold. But, on his arrival at
Nantes, Jones was grievously disappointed to learn that the British
Government had so vigorously protested against the building of a
vessel-of-war in France for the Americans, that the French Government
had been obliged to notify the American agents that their plan must be
abandoned. France was at this time at peace with Great Britain, and,
though inclined to be friendly with the rebellious colonies, was not
ready to entirely abandon her position as a neutral power. Later, when
she took up arms against England, she gave the Americans every right
in her ports they could desire.
Jones thus found himself in European waters with a vessel too weak to
stand against the frigates England could send to take her, and too
slow to elude them. But he determined to strike some effective blows
for the cause of liberty. Accordingly he planned an enterprise, which,
for audacity of conception and dash in execution, has never been
equalled by any naval expedition since.
This was nothing less than a virtual invasion of England. The "Ranger"
lay at Brest. Jones planned to dash across the English Channel, and
cruise along the coast of England, burning shipping and towns, as a
piece of retaliation upon the British for their wanton outrages along
the American coast. It was a bold plan. The channel was thronged with
the heavy frigates of Great Britain, any one of which could have
annihilated the audacious Yankee cruiser. Nevertheless, Jones
determined to brave the danger.
At the outset, it seemed as though his purpose was to be balked by
heavy weather. For days after the "Ranger" left Brest, she battled
against the chop-seas of the English Channel. The sky was dark, and
the light of the sun obscured by gray clouds. The wind whistled
through the rigging, and tore at the tightly furled sails. Great green
walls of water, capped with snowy foam, beat thunderously against the
sides of the "Ranger." Now and then a port would be driven in, and the
men between decks drenched by the incoming deluge. The "Ranger" had
encountered an equinoctial gale in its worst form.
When the gale died away, Jones found himself off the Scilly Islands,
in full view of the coast of England. Here he encountered a
merchantman, which he took and scuttled, sending the crew ashore to
spread the news that an American man-of-war was ravaging the channel.
Having alarmed all England, he changed his hunting-ground to St.
George's Channel and the Irish Sea, where he captured several ships;
sending one, a prize, back to Brest. He was in waters with which he
had been familiar from his youth, and he made good use of his
knowledge; dashing here and there, lying in wait in the highway of
commerce, and then secreting himself in some sequestered cove while
the enemy's ship-of-war went by in fruitless search for the marauder.
All England was aroused by the exploits of the Yankee cruiser. Never
since the days of the Invincible Armada had war been so brought home
to the people of the tight little island. Long had the British
boastfully claimed the title of monarch of the seas. Long had they
sung the vainglorious song,--
"Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep."
But Paul Jones showed Great Britain that her boasted power was a
bubble. He ravaged the seas within cannon-shot of English headlands.
He captured and burned merchantmen, drove the rates of insurance up to
panic prices, paralyzed British shipping-trade, and even made small
incursions into British territory.
The reports that reached Jones of British barbarity along the American
coast, of the burning of Falmouth, of tribute levied on innumerable
seaport towns,--all aroused in him a determination to strike a
retaliatory blow. Whitehaven, a small seaport, was the spot chosen by
him for attack; and he brought his ship to off the mouth of the harbor
late one night, intending to send in a boat's crew to fire the
shipping. But so strong a wind sprung up, as to threaten to drive the
ship ashore; and Jones was forced to make sail, and get an offing. A
second attempt, made upon a small harbor called Lochryan, on the
western coast of Scotland, was defeated by a like cause.
But the expedition against Lochryan, though in itself futile, was the
means of giving Jones an opportunity to show his merits as a fighter.
Soon after leaving Lochryan, he entered the bay of Carrichfergus, on
which is situated the Irish commercial city of Belfast. The bay was
constantly filled with merchantmen; and the "Ranger," with her ports
closed, and her warlike character carefully disguised, excited no
suspicion aboard a trim, heavy-built craft that lay at anchor a little
farther up the bay. This craft was the British man-of-war "Drake,"
mounting twenty guns. Soon after his arrival in the bay, Jones learned
the character of the "Drake," and determined to attempt her capture
during the night. Accordingly he dropped anchor near by, and, while
carefully concealing the character of his craft, made every
preparation for a midnight fight. The men sat between decks,
sharpening cutlasses, and cleaning and priming their pistols; the
cannon were loaded with grape, and depressed for work at close
quarters; battle lanterns were hung in place, ready to be lighted at
the signal for action.
At ten o'clock, the tramp of men about the capstan gave notice that
the anchor was being brought to the catheads. Soon the creaking of
cordage, and the snapping of the sails, told that the fresh breeze was
being caught by the spreading sails. Then the waves rippled about the
bow of the ship, and the "Ranger" was fairly under way.
It was a pitch-dark night, but the lights on board the "Drake" showed
where she was lying. On the "Ranger" all lights were extinguished, and
no noise told of her progress towards her enemy. It was the captain's
plan to run his vessel across the "Drake's" cable, drop his own
anchor, let the "Ranger" swing alongside the Englishman, and then
fight it out at close quarters. But this plan, though well laid,
failed of execution. The anchor was not let fall in season; and the
"Ranger," instead of bringing up alongside her enemy, came to anchor
half a cable-length astern. The swift-flowing tide and the fresh
breeze made it impossible to warp the ship alongside: so Jones ordered
the cable cut, and the "Ranger" scudded down the bay before the
ever-freshening gale. It does not appear that the people on the
"Drake" were aware of the danger they so narrowly escaped.
The wind that had aided the tide in defeating Jones's enterprise blew
stronger and stronger, and before morning the sea was tossing before a
regular north-east gale. Against it the "Ranger" could make no
headway: so Jones gave his ship her head, and scudded before the wind
until within the vicinity of Whitehaven, when he determined to again
attempt to destroy the shipping in that port. This time he was
successful. Bringing the "Ranger" to anchor near the bar, Capt. Jones
called for volunteers to accompany him on the expedition. He himself
was to be their leader; for as a boy he had often sailed in and out of
the little harbor, knew where the forts stood, and where the colliers
anchored most thickly. The landing party was divided into two
boat-loads; Jones taking command of one, while Lieut. Wallingford held
the tiller of the other boat. With muffled oars the Americans made for
the shore, the boats' keels grated upon the pebbly shore, and an
instant later the adventurers had scaled the ramparts of the forts,
and had made themselves masters of the garrisons. All was done
quietly. The guns in the fortifications were spiked; and, leaving the
few soldiers on guard gagged and bound, Jones and his followers
hastened down to the wharves to set fire to the shipping.
In the harbor were not less than two hundred and twenty vessels, large
and small. On the north side of the harbor, near the forts, were about
one hundred and fifty vessels. These Jones undertook to destroy. The
others were left to Lieut. Wallingford, with his boat's crew of
fifteen picked men.
When Jones and his followers reached the cluster of merchantmen, they
found their torches so far burned out as to be useless. Failure stared
them in the face then, when success was almost within their grasp.
Jones, however, was not to be balked of his prey. Running his boat
ashore, he hastened to a neighboring house, where he demanded candles.
With these he returned, led his men aboard a large ship from which the
crew fled, and deliberately built a fire in her hold. Lest the fire
should go out, he found a barrel of tar, and threw it upon the flames.
Then with the great ship roaring and crackling, and surrounded by
scores of other vessels in danger from the flames, Jones withdrew,
thinking his work complete.
Many writers have criticised Paul Jones for not having stayed longer
to complete the destruction of the vessels in the harbor. But, with
the gradually brightening day, his position, which was at the best
very dangerous, was becoming desperate. There were one hundred and
fifty vessels in that part of the harbor; the crews averaged ten men
to a vessel: so that nearly fifteen hundred men were opposed to the
plucky little band of Americans. The roar of the fire aroused the
people of the town, and they rushed in crowds to the wharf. In
describing the affair Jones writes, "The inhabitants began to appear
in thousands, and individuals ran hastily toward us. I stood between
them and the ship on fire, with my pistol in my hand, and ordered them
to stand, which they did with some precipitation. The sun was a full
hour's march above the horizon; and, as sleep no longer ruled the
world, it was time to retire. We re-embarked without opposition,
having released a number of prisoners, as our boats could not carry
them. After all my people had embarked, I stood upon the pier for a
considerable space, yet no person advanced. I saw all the eminences
round the town covered with the amazed inhabitants."
As his boat drew away from the blazing shipping, Jones looked
anxiously across the harbor to the spot to which Lieut. Wallingford
had been despatched. But no flames were seen in that quarter; for,
Wallingford's torches having gone out, he had abandoned the
enterprise. And so the Americans, having regained their ship, took
their departure, leaving only one of the enemy's vessels burning. A
most lame and impotent conclusion it was indeed; but, as Jones said,
"What was done is sufficient to show that not all the boasted British
navy is sufficient to protect their own coasts, and that the scenes of
distress which they have occasioned in America may soon be brought
home to their own doors."
CHAPTER VII.
CAREER OF PAUL JONES CONTINUED. -- HIS DESCENT UPON THE
CASTLE OF LORD SELKIRK -- THE AFFAIR OF THE PLATE. -- THE
DESCENT UPON WHITEHAVEN. -- THE BATTLE WITH THE
"DRAKE."-LIEUT. SIMPSON'S PERFIDY.
We now come to the glorious part of the career of Paul Jones upon the
ocean. Heretofore he has been chiefly occupied in the capture of
defenceless merchantmen. His work has been that of the privateer, even
if not of the pirate that the British have always claimed he was. But
the time came when Jones proved that he was ready to fight an
adversary of his mettle; was willing to take heavy blows, and deal
stunning ones in return. His daring was not confined to dashing
expeditions in which the danger was chiefly overcome by spirit and
rapid movements. While this class of operations was ever a favorite
with the doughty seaman, he was not at all averse to the deadly naval
duel.
We shall for a time abandon our account of the general naval incidents
of the Revolution, to follow the career of Paul Jones to the end of
the war. His career is not only the most interesting, but the most
important, feature of the naval operations of that war. He stands out
alone, a grand figure in naval history, as does Decatur in the wars
with the Barbary pirates, or Farragut in the war for the Union. The
war of 1812 affords no such example of single greatness in the navy.
There we find Perry, McDonough, and Porter, all equally great. But in
'76 there was no one to stand beside Paul Jones.
When the "Ranger" left the harbor of Whitehaven, her captain was heavy
hearted. He felt that he had had the opportunity to strike a heavy
blow at the British shipping, but had nevertheless inflicted only a
trifling hurt. Angry with himself for not having better planned the
adventure, and discontented with his lieutenant for not having by
presence of mind prevented the fiasco, he felt that peace of mind
could only be obtained by some deed of successful daring.
He was cruising in seas familiar to him as a sailor. Along the
Scottish shores his boyhood hours had been spent. This knowledge he
sought to turn to account. From the deck of his ship, he could see the
wooded shores of St. Mary's Island, on which were the landed estates
of Lord Selkirk, a British noble, of ancient lineage and political
prominence. On the estate of this nobleman Paul Jones was born, and
there he passed the few years of his life that elapsed before he
forsook the land for his favorite element.
Leaning against the rail on the quarter-deck of the "Ranger," Jones
could see through his spy-glass the turrets and spires of Lord
Selkirk's castle. As he gazed, there occurred to him the idea, that if
he could send a landing party ashore, seize the castle, capture the
peer, and bear him off into captivity, he would not only strike terror
into the hearts of the British, but would give the Americans a
prisoner who would serve as a hostage to secure good treatment for the
hapless Americans who had fallen into the hands of the enemy.
With Jones, the conception of a plan was followed by its swift
execution. Disdaining to wait for nightfall, he chose two boats' crews
of tried and trusty men, and landed. The party started up the broad
and open highway leading to the castle. They had gone but a few rods,
however, when they encountered two countrymen, who stared a moment at
the force of armed men, and then turned in fear to escape.
"Halt!" rang out the clear voice of the leader of the blue-jackets;
and the peasants fell upon their faces in abject terror. Jones
directed that they be brought to him; and he questioned them kindly,
setting their minds at rest, and learning from them much of the castle
and its inmates. Lord Selkirk was away from home. This to Jones was
bitter news. It seemed as though some evil genius was dogging his
footsteps, bringing failure upon his most carefully planned
enterprises. But he was not a man to repine over the inevitable, and
he promptly ordered his men to the right about, and made for the
landing-place again.
But the sailors were not so unselfish in their motives as their
captain. They had come ashore expecting to plunder the castle of the
earl, and they now murmured loudly over the abandonment of the
adventure. They saw the way clear before them. No guards protected the
house. The massive ancestral plate, with which all English landed
families are well provided, was unprotected by bolts or bars. They
felt that, in retreating, they were throwing away a chance to despoil
their enemy, and enrich themselves.
Jones felt the justice of the complaint of the sailors; but only after
a fierce struggle with his personal scruples could he yield the point.
The grounds of the Earl of Selkirk had been his early playground. A
lodge on the vast estate had been his childhood's home. Lady Selkirk
had shown his family many kindnesses. To now come to her house as a
robber and pillager, seemed the blackest ingratitude; but, on the
other hand, he had no right to permit his personal feelings to
interfere with his duty to the crew. The sailors had followed him into
danger many a time, and this was their first opportunity for financial
reward. And, even if it was fair to deny them this chance to make a
little prize-money, it would hardly be safe to sow the seeds of
discontent among the crew while on a cruise in waters infested with
the enemy's ships. With a sigh Jones abandoned his intention of
protecting the property of Lady Selkirk, and ordered his lieutenant to
proceed to the castle, and capture the family plate. Jones himself
returned to the ship, resolved to purchase the spoils at open sale,
and return them to their former owner.
The blue-jackets continued their way up the highway, and, turning
aside where a heavy gate opened into a stately grove, demanded of an
old man who came, wondering, out of the lodge, that he give them
instant admittance. Then, swinging into a trot, they ran along the
winding carriage-drive until they came out on the broad lawn that
extended in front of the castle. Here for the first time they were
seen by the inmates of the castle; and faint screams of fear, and
shouts of astonishment, came from the open windows of the stately
pile. The men-servants came rushing out to discover who the lawless
crowd that so violated the sanctity of an English earl's private park
could be; but their curiosity soon abated when a few stout
blue-jackets, cutlass and pistol in hand, surrounded them, and bade
them keep quiet. The lieutenant, with two stout seamen at his back,
then entered the castle, and sought out the mistress, who received him
with calm courtesy, with a trace of scorn, but with no sign of fear.
Briefly the lieutenant told his errand. The countess gave an order to
a butler, and soon a line of stout footmen entered, bearing the plate.
Heavy salvers engraved with the family arms of Lord Selkirk, quaint
drinking-cups and flagons curiously carved, ewers, goblets, platters,
covers, dishes, teapots, and all kinds of table utensils were there,
all of exquisitely artistic workmanship, and bearing the stamp of
antiquity. When all was ready, the lieutenant called in two of the
sailors from the lawn; and soon the whole party, bearing the captured
treasure, disappeared in the curves of the road.
This incident, simple enough in reality, the novelist Fenimore Cooper
has made the germ of one of his exquisite sea-tales, "The Pilot."
British historians have made of it an example by which to prove the
lawlessness and base ingratitude of Paul Jones. As may readily be
imagined, it stirred up at the time the most intense excitement in
England. Jones became the bugbear of timid people. His name was used
to frighten little children. He was called pirate, traitor,
free-booter, plunderer. It was indeed a most audacious act that he had
committed. Never before or since had the soil of England been trodden
by a hostile foot. Never had a British peer been forced to feel that
his own castle was not safe from the invader. Jones, with his handful
of American tars, had accomplished a feat which had never before been
accomplished, and which no later foeman of England has dared to
repeat. It is little wonder that the British papers described him as a
bloodthirsty desperado.
A few weeks later, the captured plate was put up for sale by the prize
agents. Capt. Jones, though not a rich man, bought it, and returned it
to the countess. Lord Selkirk, in acknowledging its receipt, wrote,--
"And on all occasions, both now and formerly, I have done you the
justice to tell that you made an offer of returning the plate very
soon after your return to Brest; and although you yourself were not
at my house, but remained at the shore with your boat, that you had
your officers and men in such extraordinary good discipline, that your
having given them the strictest orders to behave well,--to do no
injury of any kind, to make no search, but only to bring off what
plate was given them,--that in reality they did exactly as was
ordered; and that not one man offered to stir from his post on the
outside of the house, nor entered the doors, nor said an uncivil word;
that the two officers stayed not one-quarter of an hour in the parlor
and in the butler's pantry while the butler got the plate together,
behaved politely, and asked for nothing but the plate, and instantly
marched their men off in regular order; and that both officers and men
behaved in all respects so well, that it would have done credit to the
best-disciplined troops whatever."
But the British took little notice of the generous reparation made by
Capt. Jones, and continued to hurl abuse and hard names at him.
Jones was vastly disappointed at his failure to capture the person of
Lord Selkirk. The story of the sufferings of his countrymen in British
prisons worked upon his heart, and he longed to take captive a
personage whom he could hold as hostage. But, soon after leaving St.
Mary's Isle, he fell in again with the British man-of-war "Drake;" and
as a result of this encounter he had prisoners enough to exchange for
many hapless Americans languishing in hulks and prisons.
After the wind and tide had defeated the midnight attempt made by
Jones to capture the "Drake," that craft had remained quietly at her
anchorage, little suspecting that the bay of Carrickfergus had held so
dangerous a neighbor. But soon reports of the "Ranger's" depredations
began to reach the ears of the British captain. The news of the
desperate raid upon Whitehaven became known to him. He therefore
determined to leave his snug anchorage, and go in search of the
audacious Yankee. Just as the captain of the "Drake" had reached this
determination, and while he was making sail, the "Ranger" appeared off
the mouth of the harbor.
The "Drake" promptly sent out a boat to examine the strange craft, and
report upon her character. Jones saw her coming, and resolved to throw
her off the scent. Accordingly, by skilful seamanship, he kept the
stern of the "Ranger" continually presented to the prying eyes in the
British boat. Turn which way they might, be as swift in their
manoeuvres as they might, the British scouts could see nothing of the
"Ranger" but her stern, pierced with two cabin windows, as might be
the stern of any merchantman. Her sides, dotted with frowning ports,
were kept securely hidden from their eyes.
Though provided with spy-glasses, the people in the boat were totally
deceived. Unsuspectingly they came up under the stern of the "Ranger,"
and demanded to come on board. As the officer in command clambered up
a rope, and vaulted the taffrail to the quarter-deck, he saw Paul
Jones and his lieutenants, in full uniform, standing before him.
"Why,--why, what ship's this?" stammered the astonished officer.
"This is the American Continental ship 'Ranger,' and you are my
prisoner," responded Jones; and at the words a few sailors, with
cutlasses and pistols, called to the men in the boat alongside, to
come aboard and give themselves up.
From his captives Jones learned that the news of the Whitehaven raid
had reached the "Drake" only the night before; and that she had been
re-enforcing her crew with volunteers, preparatory to going out in
search of the "Ranger." As he stood talking to the captured British
naval officer, Jones noticed slender columns of smoke rising from the
woods on neighboring highlands, where he knew there were no houses.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"Alarm fires, sir," answered the captive; "the news of your descent
upon Whitehaven is terrifying the whole country."
Soon, however, the attention of the Americans was diverted from the
signal-fires to the "Drake." An appearance of life and bustle was
observable about the boat. The shrill notes of the boatswain's
whistle, and the tramp of men about the capstan, came faintly over the
waters. The rigging was full of sailors, and the sails were being
quickly spread to catch the fresh breeze. Soon the ship began to move
slowly from her anchorage; she heeled a little to one side, and,
responsive to her helm, turned down the bay. She was coming out to
look after her lost boat.
Jones determined to hold his ground, and give battle to the
Englishman. He at once began to prepare for battle in every way
possible without alarming the enemy. The great guns were loaded and
primed. Cutlasses and pistols were brought up from the armorer's room,
and placed in convenient locations on the main deck, so that the
boarders might find them when needed. The powder-monkeys, stripped for
action, and the handlers and cartridge-makers entered the
powder-magazine, and prepared to hand out the deadly explosive. The
cook and his assistant strewed sawdust and ashes about the decks, to
catch the blood, and keep the men from slipping. Every one was busy,
from the captain down to the galley-boy.
There was plenty of time to prepare; for the tide was out, and the
"Drake," beating down a narrow channel, made but slow headway. The
delay was a severe strain upon the nerves of the men, who stood silent
and grim at their quarters on the American ship, waiting for the fight
to begin. At such a moment, even the most courageous must lose heart,
as he thinks upon the terrible ordeal through which he must pass.
Visions of home and loved ones flit before his misty eyes; and Jack
chokes down a sob as he hides his emotion in nervously fingering the
lock of his gun, or taking a squint through the port-holes at the
approaching enemy.
At length the "Drake" emerged from the narrow channel of the harbor,
and coming within hailing distance of the "Ranger," ran up the flag of
England, and hailed,--
"What ship is that?"
Paul Jones, himself standing on the taffrail, made answer,--
"This is the American Continental ship 'Ranger.' We are waiting for
you. The sun is but little more than an hour from setting. It is
therefore time to begin."
The "Drake" lay with her bow towards the "Ranger," and a little
astern. As Jones finished speaking, he turned to the man at the wheel,
and said, "Put your helm up. Up, I say!"
Quickly responsive to her helm, the vessel swung round; and, as her
broadside came to bear, she let fly a full broadside of solid shot
into the crowded decks and hull of the "Drake." Through timbers and
planks, flesh and bone, the iron hail rushed, leaving death, wounds,
and destruction in its path. The volunteers that the "Drake" had added
to her crew so crowded the decks, that the execution was fearful. It
seemed as though every shot found a human mark.
But the British were not slow to return the fire, and the roar of
their broadside was heard before the thunder of the American fire had
ceased to reverberate among the hills along the shore.
Then followed a desperate naval duel. The tide of victory flowed now
this way, and now that. Jones kept his ship at close quarters with the
enemy, and stood on the quarter-deck urging on his gunners, now
pointing out some vulnerable spot, now applauding a good shot, at one
time cheering, and at another swearing, watching every movement of his
foe, and giving quick but wise orders to his helmsman, his whole mind
concentrated upon the course of battle, and with never a thought for
his own safety.
For more than an hour the battle raged, but the superior gunnery of
the Americans soon began to tell. The "Drake" fought under no colors,
her ensign having been shot away early in the action. But the spirited
manner in which her guns were worked gave assurance that she had not
struck. The American fire had wrought great execution on the deck of
the Englishman. Her captain was desperately wounded early in the
fight; and the first lieutenant, who took his place, was struck down
by a musket-ball from the "Ranger's" tops. The cock-pit of the "Drake"
was like a butcher's shambles, so bespattered was it with blood. But
on the "Ranger" there was little execution. The brave Wallingford,
Jones's first lieutenant and right-hand man, was killed early in the
action, and one poor fellow accompanied him to his long account; but
beyond this there were no deaths. Six men only were wounded.
The sun was just dipping the lower edge of its great red circle
beneath the watery horizon, when
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/22305