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The Naval History of the United States. Volume 2

by Willis J. Abbot · English · Gutenberg #26416 · 960,735 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Naval History of the United States. Volume 2

Author: Willis J. Abbot

Illustrator: W. C. Jackson
        H. W. McVickar


        
Release date: August 24, 2008 [eBook #26416]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26416

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 2 ***




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. The author's spelling
has been maintained.

Page 993: "they were fired upon the Coreans" has been replaced by
"they were fired upon by the Coreans".

Page 997: "the rescued part arrived in New York" has been replaced by
"the rescued party arrived in New York".

Every chapter heading had an illustration; the corresponding tag has
been removed.]




                         THE NAVAL HISTORY

                               OF THE

                            UNITED STATES


                                 BY

                           WILLIS J. ABBOT


                       With Many Illustrations
                 BY H. W. McVICAR AND W. C. JACKSON



                             _VOLUME TWO_




                               NEW YORK:
                    PETER FENELON COLLIER, PUBLISHER.




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
     OF THE "ENTERPRISE" AND "BOXER." -- END OF THE YEAR 1813 ON THE
     OCEAN.


With the capture of the "Chesapeake" in June, 1813, we abandoned our
story of the naval events along the coast of the United States, to
follow Capt. Porter and his daring seamen on their long cruise into
far-off seas. But while the men of the "Essex" were capturing whalers
in the Pacific, chastising insolent savages at Nookaheevah, and
fighting a gallant but unsuccessful fight at Valparaiso, other
blue-jackets were as gallantly serving their country nearer home. From
Portsmouth to Charleston the coast was watched by British ships, and
collisions between the enemies were of almost daily occurrence. In
many of these actions great bravery was shown on both sides.
Noticeably was this the case in the action between the cutter
"Surveyor" and the British frigate "Narcissus," on the night of June
12. The "Surveyor," a little craft manned by a crew of fifteen men,
and mounting six twelve-pound carronades, was lying in the York River
near Chesapeake Bay. From the masthead of the "Narcissus," lying
farther down the bay, the spars of the cutter could be seen above the
tree-tops; and an expedition was fitted out for her capture. Fifty
men, led by a veteran officer, attacked the little vessel in the
darkness, but were met with a most determined resistance. The
Americans could not use their carronades, but with their muskets they
did much execution in the enemy's ranks. But they were finally
overpowered, and the little cutter was towed down under the frigate's
guns. The next day Mr. Travis, the American commander, received his
sword which he had surrendered, with a letter from the British
commander, in which he said, "Your gallant and desperate attempt to
defend your vessel against more than double your number, on the night
of the 12th inst., excited such admiration on the part of your
opponents as I have seldom witnessed, and induced me to return you the
sword you had so nobly used, in testimony of mine.... In short, I am
at a loss which to admire most, the previous arrangement on board the
'Surveyor,' or the determined manner in which her deck was disputed,
inch by inch."

During the summer of 1813, the little gunboats, built in accordance
with President Jefferson's plan for a coast guard of single-gun
vessels, did a great deal of desultory fighting, which resulted in
little or nothing. They were not very seaworthy craft, the heavy guns
mounted amidships causing them to careen far over in even a sailor's
"capfull" of wind. When they went into action, the first shot from the
gun set the gunboat rocking so that further fire with any precision of
aim was impossible. The larger gunboats carried sail enough to enable
them to cruise about the coast, keeping off privateers and checking
the marauding expeditions of the British. Many of the gunboats,
however, were simply large gallies propelled with oars, and therefore
confined in their operations to bays and inland waters. The chief
scene of their operations was Chesapeake Bay.

This noble sheet of water had been, since the very opening of the year
1813, under the control of the British, who had gathered there their
most powerful vessels under the command of Admiral Cockburn, whose
name gained an unenviable notoriety for the atrocities committed by
his forces upon the defenceless inhabitants of the shores of
Chesapeake Bay. Marauding expeditions were continually sent from the
fleet to search the adjacent country for supplies. When this method of
securing provisions failed, Cockburn hit upon the plan of bringing his
fleet within range of a village, and then commanding the inhabitants
to supply his needs, under penalty of the instant bombardment of the
town in case of refusal. Sometimes this expedient failed, as when
Commodore Beresford, who was blockading the Delaware, called upon the
people of Dover to supply him at once with "twenty-five large bullocks
and a proportionate quantity of vegetables and hay." But the sturdy
inhabitants refused, mustered the militia, dragged some old cannon
down to the water-side, and, for lack of cannon-balls of their own,
valiantly fired back those thrown by the British, which fitted the
American ordnance exactly.

Soon after this occurrence, a large party from Cockburn's fleet landed
at Havre de Grace, and, having driven away the few militia, captured
and burned the town. Having accomplished this exploit, the marauders
continued their way up the bay, and turning up into the Sassafras
River ravaged the country on both sides of the little stream. After
spreading distress far and wide over the beautiful country that
borders Chesapeake Bay, the vandals returned to their ships, boasting
that they had despoiled the Americans of at least seventy thousand
dollars, and injured them to the amount of ten times that sum.

By June, 1813, the Americans saw that something must be done to check
the merciless enemy who had thus revived the cruel vandalism, which
had ceased to attend civilized warfare since the middle ages. A fleet
of fifteen armed gallies was fitted out to attack the frigate of
Cockburn's fleet that lay nearest to Norfolk. Urged forward by long
sweeps, the gunboats bore down upon the frigate, which, taken by
surprise, made so feeble and irregular a response that the Americans
thought they saw victory within their grasp. The gunboats chose their
distance, and opened a well-directed fire upon their huge enemy, that,
like a hawk attacked by a crowd of sparrows, soon turned to fly. But
at this moment the wind changed, enabling two frigates which were at
anchor lower down the bay to come up to the aid of their consort. The
American gunboats drew off slowly, firing as they departed.

This attack infused new energy into the British, and they at once
began formidable preparations for an attack upon Norfolk. On the 20th
of June they moved forward to the assault,--three seventy-four-gun
ships, one sixty-four, four frigates, two sloops, and three
transports. They were opposed by the American forces stationed on
Craney Island, which commands the entrance to Norfolk Harbor. Here the
Americans had thrown up earthworks, mounting two twenty-four, one
eighteen, and four six pound cannon. To work this battery, one hundred
sailors from the "Constellation," together with fifty marines, had
been sent ashore. A large body of militia and a few soldiers of the
regular army were also in camp upon the island.

The British set the 22d as the date for the attack; and on the morning
of that day, fifteen large boats, filled with sailors, marines, and
soldiers to the number of seven hundred, put off from the ships, and
dashed toward the batteries. At the same time a larger force tried to
move forward by land, but were driven back, to wait until their
comrades in the boats should have stormed and silenced the American
battery. But that battery was not to be silenced. After checking the
advance of the British by land, the Americans waited coolly for the
column of boats to come within point-blank range. On they came,
bounding over the waves, led by the great barge "Centipede," fifty
feet long, and crowded with men. The blue-jackets in the shore battery
stood silently at their guns. Suddenly there arose a cry, "Now, boys,
are you ready?" "All ready," was the response. "Then fire!" And the
great guns hurled their loads of lead and iron into the advancing
boats. The volley was a fearful one; but the British still came on
doggedly, until the fire of the battery became too terrible to be
endured. "The American sailors handled the great guns like rifles,"
said one of the British officers, speaking of the battle. Before this
terrific fire, the advancing column was thrown into confusion. The
boats, drifting upon each other, so crowded together that the oars-men
could not make any headway. A huge round shot struck the "Centipede,"
passing through her diagonally, leaving death and wounds in its track.
The shattered craft sunk, and was soon followed by four others. The
order for retreat was given; and, leaving their dead and some wounded
in the shattered barges that lay in the shallow water, the British
fled to their ships. Midshipman Tatnall, who, many years later, served
in the Confederate navy, waded out with several sailors, and, seizing
the "Centipede," drew her ashore. He found several wounded men in
her,--one a Frenchman, with both legs shot away. A small terrier dog
lay whimpering in the bow. His master had brought him along for a run
on shore, never once thinking of the possibility of the flower of the
British navy being beaten back by the Americans.

So disastrous a defeat enraged the British, who proceeded to wreak
their vengeance upon the little town of Hampton, which they sacked and
burned, committing acts of shameful violence, more in accordance with
the character of savages than that of civilized white men. The story
of the sack of Hampton forms no part of the naval annals of the war,
and in its details is too revolting to deserve a place here. It is a
narrative of atrocious cruelty not to be paralleled in the history of
warfare in the nineteenth century.

Leaving behind him the smoking ruins of Hampton, Cockburn with his
fleet dropped down the bay, and, turning southward, cruised along the
coast of the Carolinas. Anchoring off Ocracoke Inlet, the British sent
a fleet of armed barges into Pamlico Sound to ravage the adjoining
coast. Two privateers were found lying at anchor in the sound,--the
"Anaconda" of New York, and the "Atlas" of Philadelphia. The British
forces, eight hundred in number, dashed forward to capture the two
vessels. The "Atlas" fell an easy prey; but the thirteen men of the
"Anaconda" fought stoutly until all hope was gone, then, turning their
cannon down upon the decks of their own vessel, blew great holes in
her bottom, and escaped to the shore. After this skirmish, the British
landed, and marched rapidly to Newbern; but, finding that place well
defended by militia, made their way back to the coast, desolating the
country through which they passed, and seizing cattle and slaves. The
latter they are said to have sent to the West Indies and sold. From
Pamlico Sound Cockburn went to Cumberland Island, where he established
his winter quarters, and whence he continued to send out marauding
expeditions during the rest of the year.

Very different was the character of Sir Thomas Hardy, who commanded
the British blockading fleet off the New England coast. A brave and
able officer, with the nature and training of a gentleman, he was as
much admired by his enemies for his nobility, as Cockburn was hated
for his cruelty. It is more than possible, however, that the
difference between the methods of enforcement of the blockade on the
New England coast and on the Southern seaboard was due to definite
orders from the British admiralty: for the Southern States had entered
into the war heart and soul; while New England gave to the American
forces only a faint-hearted support, and cried eagerly for peace at
any cost. So strong was this feeling, that resolutions of honor to the
brave Capt. Lawrence were defeated in the Massachusetts Legislature,
on the ground that they would encourage others to embark in the
needless war in which Lawrence lost his life. Whatever may have been
the cause, however, the fact remains, that Hardy's conduct while on
the blockade won for him the respect and admiration of the very people
against whom his forces were arrayed.

[Illustration: Blue-Jackets at the Guns.]

On June 18 the British blockaders off New York Harbor allowed a little
vessel to escape to sea, that, before she could be captured, roamed at
will within sight of the chalk cliffs of England, and inflicted
immense damage upon the commerce of her enemy. This craft was the
little ten-gun brig "Argus," which left New York bound for France. She
carried as passenger Mr. Crawford of Georgia, who had lately been
appointed United States minister to France. After safely discharging
her passenger at L'Orient, the "Argus" turned into the chops of the
English Channel, and cruised about, burning and capturing many of the
enemy's ships. She was in the very highway of British commerce; and
her crew had little rest day or night, so plentiful were the ships
that fell in their way. It was hard for the jackies to apply the torch
to so many stanch vessels, that would enrich the whole crew with
prize-money could they but be sent into an American port. But the
little cruiser was thousands of miles from any American port, and no
course was open to her save to give every prize to the flames. After
cruising for a time in the English Channel, Lieut. Allen, who
commanded the "Argus," took his vessel around Land's End, and into St.
George's Channel and the Irish Sea. For thirty days he continued his
daring operations in the very waters into which Paul Jones had carried
the American flag nearly thirty-five years earlier. British merchants
and shipping owners in London read with horror of the destruction
wrought by this one vessel. Hardly a paper appeared without an account
of some new damage done by the "Argus." Vessels were kept in port
to rot at their docks, rather than fall a prey to the terrible Yankee.
Rates of insurance went up to ruinous prices, and many companies
refused to take any risks whatever so long as the "Argus" remained
afloat. But the hue and cry was out after the little vessel; and many
a stout British frigate was beating up and down in St. George's
Channel, and the chops of the English Channel, in the hopes of falling
in with the audacious Yankee, who had presumed to bring home to
Englishmen the horrors of war.

It fell to the lot of the brig-sloop "Pelican" to rid the British
waters of the "Argus." On the night of the thirteenth of August, the
American vessel had fallen in with a British vessel from Oporto, and
after a short chase had captured her. The usual result followed. The
prisoners with their personal property were taken out of the prize,
and the vessel was set afire. But, before the torch was applied, the
American sailors had discovered that their prize was laden with wine;
and their resolution was not equal to the task of firing the prize
without testing the quality of the cargo. Besides treating themselves
to rather deep potations, the boarding-crew contrived to smuggle a
quantity of the wine into the forecastle of the "Argus." The prize was
then fired, and the "Argus" moved away under easy sail. But the light
of the blazing ship attracted the attention of the lookout on the
"Pelican," and that vessel came down under full sail to discover the
cause.

Day was just breaking, and by the gray morning light the British saw
an American cruiser making away from the burning hulk of her last
prize. The "Pelican" followed in hot pursuit, and was allowed to come
alongside, although the fleet American could easily have left her far
astern. But Capt. Allen was ready for the conflict; confident of his
ship and of his crew, of whose half-intoxicated condition he knew
nothing, he felt sure that the coming battle would only add more
laurels to the many already won by the "Argus." He had often declared
that the "Argus" should never run from any two-master; and now, that
the gage of battle was offered, he promptly accepted.

At six o'clock in the morning, the "Pelican" came alongside, and
opened the conflict with a broadside from her thirty-two pound
carronades. The "Argus" replied with spirit, and a sharp cannonade
began. Four minutes after the battle opened, Capt. Allen was struck
by a round shot that cut off his left leg near the thigh. His officers
rushed to his side, and strove to bear him to his cabin; but he
resisted, saying he would stay on deck and fight his ship as long as
any life was left him. With his back to a mast, he gave his orders and
cheered on his men for a few minutes longer; then, fainting from the
terrible gush of blood from his wound, was carried below. To lose
their captain so early in the action, was enough to discourage the
crew of the "Argus." Yet the officers left on duty were brave and
skilful. Twice the vessel was swung into a raking position, but the
gunners failed to seize the advantage. "They seemed to be nodding over
their guns," said one of the officers afterward. The enemy, however,
showed no signs of nodding. His fire was rapid and well directed, and
his vessel manoeuvred in a way that showed a practised seaman in
command. At last he secured a position under the stern of the "Argus,"
and lay there, pouring in destructive broadsides, until the Americans
struck their flag,--just forty-seven minutes after the opening of the
action. The loss on the "Argus" amounted to six killed and seventeen
wounded.

No action of the war was so discreditable to the Americans as this. In
the loss of the "Chesapeake" and in the loss of the "Essex," there
were certain features of the action that redounded greatly to the
honor of the defeated party. But in the action between the "Argus" and
the "Pelican," the Americans were simply outfought. The vessels were
practically equal in size and armament, though the "Pelican" carried a
little the heavier metal. It is also stated that the powder used by
the "Argus" was bad. It had been taken from one of the prizes, and
afterwards proved to be condemned powder of the British Government. In
proof of the poor quality of this powder, one of the American officers
states that many shot striking the side of the "Pelican" were seen to
fall back into the water; while others penetrated the vessel's skin,
but did no further damage. All this, however, does not alter the fact
that the "Argus" was fairly beaten in a fair fight.

While the British thus snapped up an American man-of-war cruising at
their harbors' mouths, the Americans were equally fortunate in
capturing a British brig of fourteen guns off the coast of Maine. The
captor was the United States brig "Enterprise," a lucky little vessel
belonging to a very unlucky class; for her sister brigs all fell a
prey to the enemy. The "Nautilus," it will be remembered, was captured
early in the war. The "Vixen" fell into the hands of Sir James Yeo,
who was cruising in the West Indies, in the frigate "Southampton;" but
this gallant officer reaped but little benefit from his prize, for
frigate and brig alike were soon after wrecked on one of the Bahama
Islands. The "Siren," late in the war, was captured by the
seventy-four-gun ship "Medway," and the loss of the "Argus" has just
been chronicled. Of all these brigs, the "Argus" alone was able to
fire a gun in her own defence, before being captured; the rest were
all forced to yield quietly to immensely superior force.

In the war with Tripoli, the "Enterprise" won the reputation of being
a "lucky" craft; and her daring adventures and thrilling escapes
during the short naval war with France added to her prestige among
sailors. When the war with England broke out, the little brig was put
in commission as soon as possible, and assigned to duty along the
coast of Maine. She did good service in keeping off privateers and
marauding expeditions from Nova Scotia. In the early part of
September, 1813, she was cruising near Penguin Point, when she sighted
a brig in shore that had the appearance of a hostile war-vessel. The
stranger soon settled all doubts as to her character by firing several
guns, seemingly for the purpose of recalling her boats from the shore.
Then, setting sail with the rapidity of a man-of-war, she bore down
upon the American vessel. The "Enterprise," instead of waiting for the
enemy, turned out to sea, under easy sail; and her crew were set to
work bringing aft a long gun, and mounting it in the cabin, where one
of the stern windows had been chopped away to make a port. This action
rather alarmed the sailors, who feared that their commander, Lieut.
Burrows, whose character was unknown to them, intended to avoid the
enemy, and was rigging the long gun for a stern-chaser. An impromptu
meeting was held upon the forecastle; and, after much whispered
consultation, the people appointed a committee to go aft and tell the
commander that the lads were burning to engage the enemy, and were
confident of whipping her. The committee started bravely to discharge
their commission; but their courage failed them before so mighty a
potentate as the commander, and they whispered their message to the
first lieutenant, who laughed, and sent word forward that Mr. Burrows
only wanted to get sea-room, and would soon give the jackies all the
fighting they desired.

[Illustration: The Fight with the "Boxer."]

The Americans now had leisure to examine, through their
marine-glasses, the vessel which was so boldly following them to the
place of battle. She was a man-of-war brig, flying the British ensign
from both mastheads and at the peak. Her armament consisted of twelve
eighteen-pound carronades and two long sixes, as against the fourteen
eighteen-pound carronades and two long nines of the "Enterprise." The
Englishman carried a crew of sixty-six men, while the quarter-rolls of
the American showed a total of one hundred and two. But in the battle
which followed the British fought with such desperate bravery as to
almost overcome the odds against them.

For some time the two vessels fought shy of each other, manoeuvring
for a windward position. Towards three o'clock in the afternoon, the
Americans gained this advantage, and at once shortened sail, and edged
down toward the enemy. As the ships drew near, a sailor was seen to
climb into the rigging of the Englishman, and nail the colors to the
mast, giving the lads of the "Enterprise" a hint as to the character
of the reception they might expect. As the vessels came within range,
both crews cheered lustily, and continued cheering until within
pistol-shot, when the two broadsides were let fly at almost exactly
the same moment. With the first fire, both commanders fell. Capt.
Blyth of the English vessel was almost cut in two by a round shot as
he stood on his quarter-deck. He died instantly. Lieut. Burrows was
struck by a canister-shot, which inflicted a mortal wound. He refused
to be carried below, and was tenderly laid upon the deck, where he
remained during the remainder of the battle, cheering on his men, and
crying out that the colors of the "Enterprise" should never be struck.
The conflict was sharp, but short. For ten minutes only the answering
broadsides rung out; then the colors of the British ship were hauled
down. She proved to be the sloop-of-war "Boxer," and had suffered
severely from the broadsides of the "Enterprise." Several shots had
taken effect in her hull, her foremast was almost shot away, and
several guns were dismounted. Three men beside her captain were
killed, and seventeen wounded. But she had not suffered these injuries
without inflicting some in return. The "Enterprise" was much cut up
aloft. Her foremast and mainmast had each been pierced by an
eighteen-pound ball. Her captain lay upon the deck, gasping in the
last agonies of death, but stoutly protesting that he would not be
carried below until he received the sword of the commander of the
"Boxer." At last this was brought him; and grasping it he cried, "Now
I am satisfied. I die contented."

The two shattered brigs were taken into Portland, where the bodies of
the two slain commanders were buried with all the honors of war. The
"Enterprise" was repaired, and made one more cruise before the close
of the war; but the "Boxer" was found to be forever ruined for a
vessel of war, and she was sold into the merchant-service. The fact
that she was so greatly injured in so short a time led a London
paper, in speaking of the battle, to say, "The fact seems to be but
too clearly established, that the Americans have some superior mode of
firing; and we cannot be too anxiously employed in discovering to what
circumstances that superiority is owing."

[Illustration: The Surrender of the "Boxer."]

This battle practically closed the year's naval events upon the ocean.
The British privateer "Dart" was captured near Newport by some
volunteers from the gunboats stationed at that point. But, with this
exception, nothing noteworthy in naval circles occurred during the
remainder of the year. Looking back over the annals of the naval
operations of 1813, it is clear that the Americans were the chief
sufferers. They had the victories over the "Peacock," "Boxer," and
"Highflyer" to boast of; but they had lost the "Chesapeake," "Argus,"
and "Viper." But, more than this, they had suffered their coast to be
so sealed up by British blockaders that many of their best vessels
were left to lie idle at their docks. The blockade, too, was growing
stricter daily, and the outlook for the future seemed gloomy; yet, as
it turned out, in 1814 the Americans regained the ground they had lost
the year before.




CHAPTER XIII.

     ON THE LAKES. -- CLOSE OF HOSTILITIES ON LAKES ERIE AND HURON. --
     DESULTORY WARFARE ON LAKE ONTARIO IN 1813. -- HOSTILITIES ON
     ONTARIO IN 1814. -- THE BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. -- END OF THE
     WAR UPON THE LAKES.


In considering the naval operations on the Great Lakes, it must be
kept in mind, that winter, which checked but little naval activity on
the ocean, locked the great fresh-water seas in an impenetrable
barrier of ice, and effectually stopped all further hostilities
between the hostile forces afloat. The victory gained by Commodore
Perry on Lake Erie in September, 1813, gave the Americans complete
command of that lake; and the frozen season soon coming on, prevented
any attempts on the part of the enemy to contest the American
supremacy. But, indeed, the British showed little ability, throughout
the subsequent course of the war, to snatch from the Americans the
fruits of the victory at Put-in-Bay. They embarked upon no more
offensive expeditions; and the only notable naval contest between the
two belligerents during the remainder of the war occurred Aug. 12,
1814, when a party of seventy-five British seamen and marines
attempted to cut out three American schooners that lay at the foot of
the lake near Fort Erie. The British forces were at Queenstown, on
the Niagara River; but by dint of carrying their boats twenty miles
through the woods, then poling down a narrow and shallow stream, with
a second portage of eight miles, the adventurers managed to reach Lake
Erie. Embarking here, they pulled down to the schooners. To the hail
of the lookout, they responded, "Provision boats." And, as no British
were thought to be on Lake Erie, the response satisfied the officer of
the watch. He quickly discovered his mistake, however, when he saw his
cable cut, and a party of armed men scrambling over his bulwarks. This
first prize, the "Somers," was quickly in the hands of the British,
and was soon joined in captivity by the "Ohio," whose people fought
bravely but unavailingly against the unexpected foe. While the
fighting was going on aboard the vessels, they were drifting down the
stream; and, by the time the British victory was complete, both
vessels were beyond the range of Fort Erie's guns, and safe from
recapture. This successful enterprise certainly deserves a place as
the boldest and best executed cutting-out expedition of the war.

[Illustration: On the Way to Lake Erie.]

Long before this occurrence, Capt. Arthur Singleton, who had succeeded
to Perry's command, despairing of any active service on Lake Erie, had
taken his squadron of five vessels into Lake Huron, where the British
still held the supremacy. His objective point was the Island of
Michilimackinac (Mackinaw), which had been captured by the enemy early
in the war. On his way, he stopped and burned the British fort and
barracks of St. Joseph. At Mackinaw he was repulsed, with the loss of
seventy men; after which he returned to Lake Erie, leaving two
vessels, the "Scorpion" and "Tigress," to blockade the Nattagawassa
River. The presence of these vessels irritated the British, and they
at once set about preparations for their capture. On the night of the
3d of September the "Tigress" was captured after a sharp struggle,
which, as the British commanding officer said, "did credit to her
officers, who were all severely wounded." At the time of the attack,
the "Scorpion" was several miles away, and knew nothing of the
misfortune of her consort. Knowing this, the British sent their
prisoners ashore, and, hoisting the American flag over the captured
vessel, waited patiently for their game to come to them. They were not
disappointed in their expectations. On the 5th the "Scorpion" came up,
and anchored, unsuspectingly, within two miles of her consort. At
early dawn the next morning the "Tigress" weighed anchor; and, with
the stars and stripes still flying, dropped down alongside the
unsuspecting schooner, poured in a sudden volley, and, instantly
boarding, carried the vessel without meeting any resistance.

With these two skirmishes, the war upon Lake Erie and Lake Huron was
ended. But on Lake Ontario the naval events, though in no case
comparable with Perry's famous victory, were numerous and noteworthy.

In our previous discussion of the progress of the war upon Lake
Ontario, we left Commodore Chauncey in winter quarter at Sackett's
Harbor, building new ships, and making vigorous efforts to secure
sailors to man them. His energy met with its reward; for, when the
melting ice left the lake open for navigation in the spring of 1813,
the American fleet was ready for active service, while the best
vessels belonging to the British were still in the hands of the
carpenters and riggers. The first service performed by the American
fleet was aiding Gen. Pike in his attack upon York, where the
Americans burned an almost completed twenty-four-gun ship, and
captured the ten-gun brig "Gloucester." The land forces who took part
in this action were terribly injured by the explosion of the
powder-magazine, to which the British had applied a slow-match when
they found they could no longer hold their position. This battle was
fought April 27, 1813. One month later, the naval forces co-operated
with the soldiery in driving the British from Fort George, on the
Canada side of the Niagara River, near Lake Ontario. Perry came from
Lake Erie to take part in this action, and led a landing party under
the fire of the British artillery with that dashing courage which he
showed later at the battle of Put-in-Bay. The work of the sailors in
this action was cool and effective. Their fire covered the advance of
the troops, and silenced more than one of the enemy's guns. "The
American ships," writes a British historian, "with their heavy
discharges of round and grape, too well succeeded in thinning the
British ranks."

But by this time the British fleet was ready for sea, and left
Kingston on the 27th of May; while Chauncey was still at the extreme
western end of the lake. The enemy determined to make an immediate
assault upon Sackett's Harbor, and there destroy the corvette "Gen.
Pike," which, if completed, would give Chauncey supremacy upon the
lake. Accordingly the fleet under Sir James Lucas Yeo, with a large
body of troops under Sir George Prescott, appeared before the harbor
on the 29th. Although the forces which rallied to the defence of the
village were chiefly raw militia, the British attack was conducted
with so little spirit that the defenders won the day; and the enemy
retreated, leaving most of his wounded to fall into the hands of the
Americans. Yeo then returned to Kingston; and the American fleet came
up the lake, and put into Sackett's Harbor, there to remain until the
completion of the "Pike" should give Chauncey control of the lake.
While the Americans thus remained in port, the British squadron made
brief incursions into the lake, capturing a few schooners and breaking
up one or two encampments of the land forces of the United States.

Not until the 21st of July did the Americans leave their anchorage. On
that day, with the formidable corvette "Pike" at the head of the
line, Chauncey left Sackett's Harbor, and went up to Niagara. Some
days later, Yeo took his squadron to sea; and on the 7th of August the
two hostile fleets came in sight of one another for the first time.
Then followed a season of manoeuvring,--of challenging and
counter-challenging, of offering battle and of avoiding
it,--terminating in so inconclusive an engagement that one is forced
to believe that neither commander dared to enter the battle for which
both had been so long preparing. The American squadron consisted
largely of schooners armed with long guns. In smooth weather these
craft were valuable adjuncts to the larger vessels, while in rough
weather they were useless. Yeo's squadron was mostly square-rigged,
and was therefore equally serviceable in all kinds of weather. It
seems likely, therefore, that the Americans strove to bring on the
conflict in smooth weather; while the British were determined to wait
until a heavy sea should lessen the force of their foes. In this
dilemma several days passed away.

On the night of the 7th of August the wind came up to blow, and the
rising waves soon demonstrated the uselessness of schooners for
purposes of war. At early dawn a fierce gust of wind caused the
schooners "Hamilton" and "Scourge" to careen far to leeward. Their
heavy guns broke loose; then, crashing down to the submerged beams of
the schooners, pulled them still farther over; and, the water rushing
in at their hatches, they foundered, carrying with them to the bottom
all their officers, and all but sixteen of the men. This loss reduced
Chauncey's force to more of an equality with that of the British; yet
for two days longer the manoeuvring continued, without a shot being
fired. On the night of the 10th the two squadrons formed in order of
battle, and rapidly approached each other. At eleven o'clock a
cannonade was begun by both parties, and continued for about an hour;
though the shot did little material damage on either side. At midnight
the British, by a quick movement, cut out and captured two American
schooners, and sailed away, without suffering any damage.

A month then intervened before the next hostile meeting. In his
despatches to his superior authorities, each commander stoutly affirms
that he spent the time in chasing the enemy, who refused to give him
battle. Whether it was the British or the Americans that avoided the
battle, it is impossible to decide; but it seems reasonable to
believe, that, had either party been really determined upon bringing
matters to an issue, the other could have been forced into giving
battle.

On the 11th of September, the enemies met near the mouth of the
Genesee River, and exchanged broadsides. A few of the British vessels
were hulled, and, without more ado, hauled off into the shallow waters
of Ambert Bay, whither the Americans could not follow them. Then
ensued another long period of peace, broken at last by a naval action
in York Bay, on the 28th, in which the British were worsted and
obliged to fly, though none of their ships were destroyed or captured.
On Oct. 2, Chauncey accomplished a really important work, by capturing
five British transports, with two hundred and sixty-four men, seven
naval and ten army officers. With this achievement, the active work of
the Ontario squadron ended for the year, as Chauncey remained
blockading Yeo at Kingston, until the approach of winter rendered that
precaution no longer necessary.

The navigable season of 1814 opened with the British first upon the
lake. The long winter had been employed by the belligerents in adding
to their fleets; a work completed first by Yeo, who put out upon the
lake on the 3d of May, with eight square-rigged vessels, of which two
were new frigates. The Americans had given up their unseaworthy
schooners, and had a fleet of eight square-rigged vessels nearly
ready, but still lacking the cordage and guns for the three new craft.
Yeo thus had the lake to himself for a time, and began a vigorous
campaign by an attack upon Oswego, aided by a large body of British
troops. Succeeding in this enterprise, he set sail for Sackett's
Harbor, and, taking up his position just outside the bar, disposed his
vessels for a long and strict blockade. This action was particularly
troublesome to the Americans at that time; for their new frigates were
just ready for their guns and cables, which could not be brought
overland, and the arrival of which by water was seemingly prevented by
the blockade. It was in this emergency that the plan, already
described, for transporting the great cable for the "Niagara"
overland, on the backs of men, was decided upon. Yeo remained on guard
at the mouth of the harbor until the 6th of June, then raised the
blockade, and disappeared down the lake. For six weeks the Americans
continued working on their fleet, to get the ships ready for service.
During this time the British gunboat "Black Snake" was brought into
the harbor, a prize to Lieut. Gregory, who had captured it by a
sudden assault, with a score of sailors at his back. On the 1st of
July, the same officer made a sudden descent upon Presque Isle, where
he found a British vessel pierced for fourteen guns on the stocks,
ready for launching. The raiders hastily set fire to the ship, and
retreated before the enemy could get his forces together.

It was July 31 before Chauncey set sail from Sackett's Harbor. He now
had under his command a squadron of eight vessels, two of which were
frigates, two ship sloops-of-war, and eight brig-sloops of no mean
power. Yeo had, to oppose this force, a fleet of no less respectable
proportions. Yet, for the remainder of the year, these two squadrons
cruised about the lake, or blockaded each other in turn, without once
coming to battle. As transports, the vessels were of some service to
their respective governments; but, so far as any actual naval
operations were concerned, they might as well never have been built.
The war closed, leaving the two cautious commanders still waiting for
a satisfactory occasion for giving battle.

Such was the course of the naval war upon the Great Lakes; but the
thunder of hostile cannon and the cheers of sailors were heard upon
yet another sheet of fresh water, before the quarrel between England
and the United States was settled. In the north-east corner of New
York State, and slightly overlapping the Canada line, lies Lake
Champlain,--a picturesque sheet of water, narrow, and dotted with
wooded islands. From the northern end of the lake flows the Richelieu
River, which follows a straight course through Canada to the St.
Lawrence, into which it empties. The long, navigable water-way thus
open from Canada to the very heart of New York was to the British a
most tempting path for an invading expedition. By the shore of the
lake a road wound along; thus smoothing the way for a land force,
whose advance might be protected by the fire of the naval force that
should proceed up the lake. Naturally, so admirable an international
highway early attracted the attention of the military authorities of
both belligerents; and, while the British pressed forward their
preparations for an invading expedition, the Americans hastened to
make such arrangements as should give them control of the lake. Her
European wars, however, made so great a demand for soldiers upon Great
Britain, that not until 1814 could she send to America a sufficient
force to undertake the invasion of the United States from the north.
In the spring of that year, a force of from ten thousand to fifteen
thousand troops, including several thousand veterans who had served
under Wellington, were massed at Montreal; and in May a move was made
by the British to get control of the lake, before sending their
invading forces into New York. The British naval force already in the
Richelieu River, and available for service, consisted of a brig, two
sloops, and twelve or fourteen gunboats. The American flotilla
included a large corvette, a schooner, a small sloop, and ten
gunboats, or galleys, propelled with oars. Seeing that the British
were preparing for active hostilities, the Americans began to build,
with all possible speed, a large brig; a move which the enemy promptly
met by pushing forward with equal energy the construction of a
frigate. While the new vessels were on the stocks, an irregular
warfare was carried on by those already in commission. At the opening
of the season, the American vessels lay in Otter Creek; and, just as
they were ready to leave port, the enemy appeared off the mouth of the
creek with a force consisting of the brig "Linnet" and eight or ten
galleys. The object of the British was to so obstruct the mouth of the
creek that the Americans should be unable to come out. With this end
in view, they had brought two sloops laden with stones, which they
intended to sink in the narrow channel. But, luckily, the Americans
had thrown up earthworks at the mouth of the river; and a party of
sailors so worked the guns, that, after much manoeuvring, the British
were forced to retire without effecting their purpose.

About the middle of August, the Americans launched their new brig, the
"Eagle;" and the little squadron put out at once into the lake, under
command of Capt. Thomas Macdonough. Eight days later, the British got
their new ship, the "Confiance," into the water. She possessed one
feature new to American naval architecture,--a furnace in which to
heat cannon-balls.

By this time (September, 1814), the invading column of British
veterans, eleven thousand strong, had begun its march into New York
along the west shore of the lake. Two thousand Americans only could be
gathered to dispute their progress; and these, under the command of
Brigadier-Gen. Macomb, were gathered at Plattsburg. To this point,
accordingly, Macdonough took his fleet, and awaited the coming of the
enemy; knowing that if he could beat back the fleet of the British,
their land forces, however powerful, would be forced to cease their
advance. The fleet that he commanded consisted of the flagship
"Saratoga," carrying eight long twenty-four-pounders, six
forty-two-pound and twelve thirty-two-pound carronades; the brig
"Eagle," carrying eight long eighteens, and twelve thirty-two-pound
carronades; schooner "Ticonderoga," with eight long twelve-pounders,
four long eighteen-pounders, and five thirty-two-pound carronades;
sloop "Preble," with seven long nines; and ten galleys. The commander
who ruled over this fleet was a man still in his twenty-ninth year.
The successful battles of the War of 1812 were fought by young
officers, and the battle of Lake Champlain was no exception to the
rule.

The British force which came into battle with Macdonough's fleet was
slightly superior. It was headed by the flagship "Confiance," a
frigate of the class of the United States ship "Constitution,"
carrying thirty long twenty-fours, a long twenty-four-pounder on a
pivot, and six thirty-two or forty-two pound carronades. The other
vessels were the "Linnet," a brig mounting sixteen long twelves; and
the "Chubb" and "Finch" (captured from the Americans under the names
of "Growler" and "Eagle"),--sloops carrying respectively ten
eighteen-pound carronades and one long six; and six eighteen-pound
carronades, four long sixes, and one short eighteen. To these were
added twelve gunboats, with varied armaments, but each slightly
heavier than the American craft of the same class.

The 11th of September had been chosen by the British for the combined
land and water attack upon Plattsburg. With the movements of the land
forces, this narrative will not deal. The brunt of the conflict fell
upon the naval forces, and it was the success of the Americans upon
the water that turned the faces of the British invaders toward Canada.

The village of Plattsburg stands upon the shore of a broad bay which
communicates with Lake Champlain by an opening a mile and a half wide,
bounded upon the north by Cumberland Head, and on the south by Crab
Island. In this bay, about two miles from the western shore,
Macdonough's fleet lay anchored in double line, stretching north and
south. The four large vessels were in the front rank, prepared to meet
the brunt of the conflict; while the galleys formed a second line in
the rear. The morning of the day of battle dawned clear, with a brisk
north-east wind blowing. The British were stirring early, and at
daybreak weighed anchor and came down the lake. Across the low-lying
isthmus that connected Cumberland Head with the mainland, the
Americans could see their adversaries' topmasts as they came down to
do battle. At this sight, Macdonough called his officers about him,
and, kneeling upon the quarter-deck, besought Divine aid in the
conflict so soon to come. When the little group rose from their knees,
the leading ship of the enemy was seen swinging round Cumberland Head;
and the men went to their quarters to await the fiery trial that all
knew was impending.

The position of the American squadron was such that the British were
forced to attack "bows on," thus exposing themselves to a raking fire.
By means of springs on their cables, the Americans were enabled to
keep their broadsides to the enemy, and thus improve, to the fullest,
the advantage gained by their position. The British came on gallantly,
and were greeted by four shots from the long eighteens of the "Eagle,"
that had no effect. But, at the sound of the cannon, a young game-cock
that was running at large on the "Saratoga" flew upon a gun, flapped
his wings, and crowed thrice, with so lusty a note that he was heard
far over the waters. The American seamen, thus roused from the painful
revery into which the bravest fall before going into action, cheered
lustily, and went into the fight, encouraged as only sailors could be
by the favorable omen.

Soon after the defiant game-cock had thus cast down the gage of
battle, Macdonough sighted and fired the first shot from one of the
long twenty-four pounders of the "Saratoga." The heavy ball crashed
into the bow of the "Confiance," and cut its way aft, killing and
wounding several men, and demolishing the wheel. Nothing daunted, the
British flagship came on grandly, making no reply, and seeking only to
cast anchor alongside the "Saratoga," and fight it out yard-arm to
yard-arm. But the fire of the Americans was such that she could not
choose her distance; but after having been badly cut up, with both her
port anchors shot away, was forced to anchor at a distance of a
quarter of a mile. But her anchor had hardly touched bottom, when she
suddenly flashed out a sheet of flames, as her rapid broadsides rung
out and her red-hot shot sped over the water toward the American
flagship. Her first broadside killed or wounded forty of the
Americans; while many more were knocked down by the shock, but
sustained no further injury. So great was the carnage, that the
hatches were opened, and the dead bodies passed below, that the men
might have room to work the guns. Among the slain was Mr. Gamble, the
first lieutenant, who was on his knees sighting a gun, when a shot
entered the port, split the quoin, drove a great piece of metal
against his breast, and stretched him dead upon the deck without
breaking his skin. By a singular coincidence, fifteen minutes later a
shot from one of the "Saratoga's" guns struck the muzzle of a
twenty-four on the "Confiance," and, dismounting it, hurled it against
Capt. Downie's groin, killing him instantly without breaking the skin;
a black mark about the size of a small plate was the sole visible
injury.

In the mean time, the smaller vessels had become engaged, and were
fighting with no less courage than the flag-ships. The "Chubb" had
early been disabled by a broadside from the "Eagle," and drifted
helplessly under the guns of the "Saratoga." After receiving a shot
from that vessel, she struck, and was taken possession of by
Midshipman Platt, who put off from the flagship in an open boat,
boarded the prize, and took her into Plattsburg Bay, near the mouth of
the Saranac. More than half her people were killed or wounded during
the short time she was in the battle. The "Linnet," in the mean time,
had engaged the "Eagle," and poured in her broadsides with such effect
that the springs on the cables of the American were cut away, and she
could no longer bring her broadsides to bear. Her captain therefore
cut his cables, and soon gained a position from which he could bring
his guns to bear upon the "Confiance." The "Linnet" thereupon dashed
in among the American gunboats, and, driving them off, commenced a
raking fire upon the "Saratoga." The "Finch," meanwhile, had ranged
gallantly up alongside the "Ticonderoga," but was sent out of the
fight by two broadsides from the American. She drifted helplessly
before the wind, and soon grounded near Crab Island. On the island was
a hospital, and an abandoned battery mounting one six-pound gun. Some
of the convalescent patients, seeing the enemy's vessel within range,
opened fire upon her from the battery, and soon forced her to haul
down her flag. Nearly half her crew were killed or wounded. Almost at
the same moment, the United States sloop "Preble" was forced out of
the fight by the British gunboats, that pressed so fiercely upon her
that she cut her cables and drifted inshore.

[Illustration: Hiram Paulding fires the Guns.]

The "Ticonderoga" fought a gallant fight throughout. After ridding
herself of the "Finch," she had a number of the British gunboats to
contend with; and they pressed forward to the attack with a gallantry
that showed them to be conscious of the fact, that, if this vessel
could be carried, the American line would be turned, and the day won
by the English. But the American schooner fought stubbornly. Her
gallant commander, Lieut. Cassin, walked up and down the taffrail,
heedless of the grape and musket-balls that whistled past his head,
pointing out to the gunners the spot whereon to train the guns, and
directing them to load with canister and bags of bullets when the
enemy came too near. The gunners of the schooner were terribly
hampered in their work by the lack of matches for the guns; for the
vessel was new, and the absence of these very essential articles was
unnoticed until too late. The guns of one division were fired
throughout the fight by Hiram Paulding, a sixteen-year-old
midshipman, who flashed his pistol at the priming of the guns as soon
as aim was taken. When no gun was ready for his services, he rammed a
ball into his weapon and discharged it at the enemy. The onslaught of
the British was spirited and determined. Often they pressed up within
a boat-hook's length of the schooner, only to be beaten back by her
merciless fire. Sometimes so few were left alive in the galleys that
they could hardly man the oars to pull out of the fight. In this way
the "Ticonderoga" kept her enemies at bay while the battle was being
decided between the "Saratoga" and the "Confiance."

For it was upon the issue of the conflict between these two ships,
that victory or defeat depended. Each had her ally and satellite.
Under the stern of the "Saratoga" lay the "Linnet," pouring in raking
broadsides. The "Confiance," in turn, was suffering from the
well-directed fire of the "Eagle." The roar of the artillery was
unceasing, and dense clouds of gunpowder-smoke hid the warring ships
from the eyes of the eager spectators on shore. The "Confiance" was
unfortunate in losing her gallant captain early in the action, while
Macdonough was spared to fight his ship to the end. His gallantry and
activity, however, led him to expose himself fearlessly; and twice he
narrowly escaped death. He worked like a common sailor, loading and
firing a favorite twenty-four-pound gun; and once, while on his knees,
sighting the piece, a shot from the "Confiance" cut in two the
spanker-boom, a great piece of which fell heavily upon the captain's
head, stretching him senseless upon the deck. He lay motionless for
two or three minutes, and his men mourned him as dead; but suddenly
his activity returned, and he leaped to his feet, and was soon again
in the thick of the fight. In less than five minutes the cry again
arose, that the captain was killed. He had been standing at the breach
of his favorite cannon, when a round shot took off the head of the
captain of the gun, and dashed it with terrific force into the face of
Macdonough, who was driven across the deck, and hurled against the
bulwarks. He lay an instant, covered with the blood of the slain man;
but, hearing his men cry that he was killed, he rushed among them, to
cheer them on with his presence.

And, indeed, at this moment the crew of the "Saratoga" needed the
presence of their captain to cheer them on to further exertion. The
red-hot shot of the "Confiance" had twice set fire to the American
ship. The raking fire from the "Linnet" had dismounted carronades and
long guns one by one, until but a single serviceable gun was left in
the starboard battery. A too heavy charge dismounted this piece, and
threw it down the hatchway, leaving the frigate without a single gun
bearing upon the enemy. In such a plight the hearts of the crew might
well fail them. But Macdonough was ready for the emergency. He still
had his port broadside untouched, and he at once set to work to swing
the ship round so that this battery could be brought to bear. An
anchor was let fall astern, and the whole ship's company hauled in on
the hawser, swinging the ship slowly around. It was a dangerous
manoeuvre; for, as the ship veered round, her stern was presented to
the "Linnet," affording an opportunity for raking, which the gunners
on that plucky little vessel immediately improved. But patience and
hard pulling carried the day; and gradually the heavy frigate was
turned sufficiently for the after gun to bear, and a gun's crew was at
once called from the hawsers to open fire. One by one the guns swung
into position, and soon the whole broadside opened with a roar.

Meanwhile the "Confiance" had attempted the same manoeuvre. But her
anchors were badly placed; and, though her people worked gallantly,
they failed to get the ship round. She bore for some time the
effective fire from the "Saratoga's" fresh broadside, but, finding
that she could in no way return the fire, struck her flag, two hours
and a quarter after the battle commenced. Beyond giving a hasty cheer,
the people of the "Saratoga" paid little attention to the surrender of
their chief enemy, but instantly turned their guns upon the "Linnet."
In this combat the "Eagle" could take no part, and the thunder of her
guns died away. Farther down the bay, the "Ticonderoga" had just
driven away the last of the British galleys; so that the "Linnet" now
alone upheld the cause of the enemy. She was terribly outmatched by
her heavier foe, but her gallant captain Pring kept up a desperate
defence. Her masts and rigging were hopelessly shattered; and no
course was open to her, save to surrender, or fight a hopeless fight.
Capt. Pring sent off a lieutenant, in an open boat, to ascertain the
condition of the "Confiance." The officer returned with the report
that Capt. Downie was killed, and the frigate terribly cut up; and as
by this time the water, pouring in the shot-holes in the "Linnet's"
hull, had risen a foot above the lower deck, her flag was hauled
down, and the battle ended in a decisive triumph for the Americans.

Terrible was the carnage, and many and strange the incidents, of this
most stubbornly contested naval battle. All of the prizes were in a
sinking condition. In the hull of the "Confiance" were a hundred and
five shot-holes, while the "Saratoga" was pierced by fifty-five. Not a
mast that would bear canvas was left standing in the British fleet;
those of the flagship were splintered like bundles of matches, and the
sails torn to rags. On most of the enemy's vessels, more than half of
the crews were killed or wounded. The loss on the British side
probably aggregated three hundred. Midshipman William Lee of the
"Confiance" wrote home after the battle, "The havoc on both sides was
dreadful. I don't think there are more than five of our men, out of
three hundred, but what are killed or wounded. Never was a shower of
hail so thick as the shot whistling about our ears. Were you to see my
jacket, waistcoat, and trousers, you would be astonished to know how I
escaped as I did; for they are literally torn all to rags with shot
and splinters. The upper part of my hat was also shot away. There is
one of the marines who was in the Trafalgar action with Lord Nelson,
who says it was a mere flea-bite in comparison with this."

The Americans, though victorious, had suffered greatly. Their loss
amounted to about two hundred men. The "Saratoga" had been cut up
beyond the possibility of repair. Her decks were covered with dead and
dying. The shot of the enemy wrought terrible havoc in the ranks of
the American officers. Lieut. Stansbury of the "Ticonderoga" suddenly
disappeared in the midst of the action; nor could any trace of him be
found, until, two days later, his body, cut nearly in two by a round
shot, rose from the waters of the lake. Lieut. Vallette of the
"Saratoga" was knocked down by the head of a sailor, sent flying by a
cannon-ball. Some minutes later he was standing on a shot-box giving
orders, when a shot took the box from beneath his feet, throwing him
heavily upon the deck. Mr. Brum, the master, a veteran man-o'-war's
man, was struck by a huge splinter, which knocked him down, and
actually stripped every rag of clothing from his body. He was thought
to be dead, but soon re-appeared at his post, with a strip of canvas
about his waist, and fought bravely until the end of the action. Some
days before the battle, a gentleman of Oswego gave one of the sailors
a glazed tarpaulin hat, of the kind then worn by seamen. A week later
the sailor re-appeared, and, handing him the hat with a semi-circular
cut in the crown and brim, made while it was on his head by a
cannon-shot, remarked calmly, "Look here, Mr. Sloane, how the damned
John Bulls have spoiled my hat!"

The last British flag having been hauled down, an officer was sent to
take possession of the "Confiance." In walking along her gun-deck, he
accidentally ran against a ratline, by which one of her starboard guns
was discharged. At this sound, the British galleys and gunboats, which
had been lying quietly with their ensigns down, got out oars and moved
off up the lake. The Americans had no vessels fit for pursuing them,
and they were allowed to escape. In the afternoon the British officers
came to the American flagship to complete the surrender. Macdonough
met them courteously; and, on their offering their swords, put them
back, saying, "Gentlemen, your gallant conduct makes you worthy to
wear your weapons. Return them to their scabbards." By sundown the
surrender was complete, and Macdonough sent off to the Secretary of
the Navy a despatch, saying, "_Sir,_--The Almighty has been pleased to
grant us a signal victory on Lake Champlain, in the capture of one
frigate, one brig, and two sloops-of-war of the enemy."

Some days later, the captured ships, being beyond repair, were taken
to the head of the lake, and scuttled. Some of the guns were found to
be still loaded; and, in drawing the charges, one gun was found with a
canvas bag containing two round shot rammed home, and wadded, without
any powder; another gun contained two cartridges and no shot; and a
third had a wad rammed down before the powder, thus effectually
preventing the discharge of the piece. The American gunners were not
altogether guiltless of carelessness of this sort. Their chief error
lay in ramming down so many shot upon the powder that the force of the
explosion barely carried the missiles to the enemy. In proof of this,
the side of the "Confiance" was thickly dotted with round shot, which
had struck into, but failed to penetrate, the wood.

The result of this victory was immediate and gratifying. The land
forces of the British, thus deprived of their naval auxiliaries,
turned about, and retreated to Canada, abandoning forever their
projected invasion. New York was thus saved by Macdonough's skill and
bravery. Yet the fame he won by his victory was not nearly
proportionate to the naval ability he showed, and the service he had
rendered to his country. Before the popular adulation of Perry,
Macdonough sinks into second place. One historian only gives him the
pre-eminence that is undoubtedly his due. Says Mr. Theodore Roosevelt,
in his admirable history, "The Naval War of 1812," "But Macdonough in
this battle won a higher fame than any other commander of the war,
British or American. He had a decidedly superior force to contend
against, and it was solely owing to his foresight and resource that we
won the victory. He forced the British to engage at a disadvantage by
his excellent choice of position, and he prepared beforehand for every
possible contingency. His personal prowess had already been shown at
the cost of the rovers of Tripoli, and in this action he helped fight
the guns as ably as the best sailor. His skill, seamanship, quick eye,
readiness of resource, and indomitable pluck are beyond all praise.
Down to the time of the civil war, he is the greatest figure in our
naval history. A thoroughly religious man, he was as generous and
humane as he was skilful and brave. One of the greatest of our sea
captains, he has left a stainless name behind him."




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."


The opening of the year 1814 found the American coast still rigidly
blockaded by the British men-of-war. Two or three of the enemy lay off
the mouth of every considerable harbor, and were not to be driven from
their post by the icy winds and storms of midwinter on the American
coast. It was almost impossible for any American vessel to escape to
sea, and a matter of almost equal difficulty for such vessels as were
out to get into a home port. The frigate "President" had put to sea
early in December, 1813, and after a cruise of eight weeks, during
which the traditional ill-luck of the ship pursued her remorselessly,
managed to dash into New York Harbor past the blockading squadron. At
Boston the blockade was broken by the "Constitution." She left port on
the 1st of January, ran off to the southward, and cruised for some
weeks in the West Indies. Here she captured the British man-of-war
schooner "Pictou," fourteen guns, and several merchant-vessels. She
also fell in with the British thirty-six-gun frigate "Pique," which
fled, and escaped pursuit by cutting through a narrow channel during a
dark and squally night. The "Constitution" then returned to the coast
of the United States, and narrowly escaped falling into the clutches
of two British frigates. She managed to gain the shelter of Marblehead
Harbor, and there remained until the latter part of the year.

But, while the larger vessels were thus accomplishing little or
nothing, two or three small sloops-of-war, of a class newly built,
slipped through the enemy's lines, and, gaining the open sea, fought
one or two notable actions. Of these, the first vessel to get to sea
was the new sloop-of-war "Frolic;" but her career was short and
inglorious, for she had been at sea but a few weeks when she fell in
with the enemy's frigate "Orpheus" and the schooner "Shelburne." A
chase ensued, in which the American vessel threw overboard her guns
and anchors, and started the water; but to no avail, for she was
overhauled, and forced to surrender. Her service afloat was limited to
the destruction of a Carthagenian privateer, which sunk before her
guns, carrying down nearly a hundred men.

The "Adams," a vessel that had suffered many vicissitudes,--having
been built for a frigate, then cut down to a sloop-of-war, and finally
been sawed asunder and converted into a corvette,--put to sea on the
18th of January, under the command of Capt. Charles Morris, formerly
of the "Constitution." She laid her course straight to the eastward,
and for some time cruised off the western coast of Africa and the
Canary Isles. She met with but little success in this region,
capturing only three brigs,--the cargo of one of which consisted of
wine and fruit; and the second, of palm-oil and ivory. Abandoning the
African coast, the corvette turned westward along the equator, and
made for the West Indies. A large Indiaman fell in her way, and was
brought to; but, before the Americans could take possession of their
prize, a British fleet of twenty-five sail, with two men-of-war, hove
in sight, and the "Adams" was forced to seek safety in flight. She put
into Savannah for provisions and water, but, hearing that the enemy
was in force near by, worked out to sea, and made sail for another
cruise. Capt. Morris took up a position on the limits of the Gulf
Stream, near the Florida coast, in the expectation of cutting out an
Indiaman from some passing convoy. The expected fleet soon came, but
was under the protection of a seventy-four, two frigates, and three
brigs,--a force sufficient to keep at bay the most audacious of
corvettes. Morris hung about the convoy for two days, but saw no
chance of eluding the watchful guards. He then crossed the Atlantic to
the coast of Ireland. Here the "Adams" narrowly escaped capture; for
she was sighted by a frigate, which gave chase, and would have
overhauled her, had not the Americans thrown overboard some small
cannon, and cut away their anchors. Thus lightened, the corvette sped
away, and soon left her pursuers behind.

Continued ill-fortune now reduced the spirits of the sailors of the
"Adams" to very low ebb. They were forced to struggle unceasingly
against the fierce gales which in winter sweep the Atlantic. Their
stock of food and water was giving out; and, to add to their distress,
scurvy, the sailors' worst enemy, began to show itself in the ship.
They had boldly run into the very waters in which the "Argus" had won
so rich a reward, yet not a sail gladdened the eyes of the lookout on
the "Adams." It was then with great disappointment that the jackies
saw the prow of the corvette turned homeward, after a cruise that
would bring them neither honor nor prize-money. The passage homeward
was quickly made, and on the 16th of August the vessel was in
soundings off the coast of Maine. Night fell, with a dense fog
concealing all landmarks from view. Through the darkness the corvette
sped on at a pace of eleven miles an hour, until, just as day was
breaking, the cry of "Breakers ahead!" was followed by a heavy blow,
indicating that the ship had struck. The force of the blow had not
been sufficient to stave in the bottom,--a fortunate fact, for the
hold was full of prisoners. Nevertheless, she was hard and fast
aground, on a ledge of rock that lifted her bow six feet above her
stern. Morris, who had rushed upon deck at the first alarm, was unable
to make out the ship's position, and feared that they were on Cashes
Ledge, a reef so far from the land that it would have been impossible
to save in the boats more than half the crew. He had determined,
however, to instantly lower the boats and send them off in search of
land, when a gust of wind, blowing away the fog, showed a beetling
cliff not a hundred yards away. Rugged and inhospitable as was the
coast thus exposed, it was better than an expanse of ocean; and at
once Morris set to work landing his prisoners, and the sick, of whom
the "Adams" had nearly sixty. With spare sails, tents were put up on
the beach; and, stores having been landed, the comfort of all was
assured, in case the ship should go to pieces. What the desolate shore
was to which they were thus forced to turn for shelter, no one knew.

All hands now turned to at the capstan, in the hopes of getting the
vessel off; and about noon, the tide having reached its flood, she
gradually slid off the ledge into deep water. After trying the pumps,
to see if any serious leak had been started, the difficult task of
taking the ship out of the labyrinth of reefs in which she lay was
begun. For more than two miles their course lay through a narrow and
tortuous channel, bordered on either side with jagged reefs; but the
corvette safely threaded her way between the rocks, and soon lay
floating in deep water. The next morning the fog blew away; and the
voyagers discovered to their astonishment that they were off Mount
Desert, instead of near Portsmouth as they had expected.

To return into the cluster of reefs after the little colony of
invalids and prisoners that had been left behind, would have been mere
folly: so sending two fishing-boats to search out the shore party, and
carry them to the nearest village, the "Adams" continued her course,
intending to put into the Penobscot River. While making for this
point, a sail was sighted, which proved to be the British brig-sloop
"Rifleman." The corvette gave chase, but the Englishman kept well in
the offing; and, as the condition of the American crew was such that
to lead them into action would have been imprudent, Morris abandoned
the pursuit, and, putting into the Penobscot, dropped anchor off
Hampden. Here, for the present, we will leave the "Adams."

The "Peacock"--a second of the new sloops-of-war, bearing the name of
a captured British vessel--put out from New York in March, and made
her way to the southward, selecting as her cruising station the waters
off the coast of Florida. For some time it seemed that the exertions
of the sailors were to be of no avail. Not a sail was to be seen, and
the chances for prize-money seemed to be small indeed. But on the 29th
of March three merchant-vessels were made out in the offing; while a
heavy-built, square-rigged, trim-looking craft that hovered about them
was evidently a man-of-war. The strangers seemed to have sighted the
American vessel; for the merchantmen were seen to hastily haul up and
run off to the north-east, while the man-of-war edged away for the
American ship.

The stranger was His British Majesty's brig sloop-of-war "Epervier,"
of eighteen guns, and carrying a crew of one hundred and twenty-eight
men. The "Peacock" was a ship-sloop of twenty-two guns, with a crew of
one hundred and sixty-six men. The advantage, therefore, lay with the
Americans; but, in the battle that ensued, the damage they inflicted
upon the enemy was out of any proportion to their excess of strength.

The two ships bore down gallantly upon each other, and at a little
after ten in the morning passed, exchanging heavy broadsides. The shot
of each took effect in the rigging; but the "Peacock" suffered the
more, having her foreyard totally disabled,--an injury that compelled
her to run large during the rest of the action, and forego all
attempts at manoeuvring. The two vessels having passed each other, the
"Epervier" eased off, and returned to the fight, running on a parallel
course with the American ship. The interchange of broadsides then
became very rapid; but the British marksmanship was poor, and few of
their shot took effect. The "Epervier," on the contrary, suffered
severely from the American fire, which took effect in her hull,
dismounting several guns, and so injuring the brig that a British
naval officer, writing of the action some years later, said, "The most
disgraceful part of the affair was that our ship was cut to pieces,
and the enemy hardly scratched."

The injury aloft which both vessels sustained caused the battle to
take on the character of an action at long range. Under such
conditions, the victory was assured to the side showing the best
gunnery. For a moment only did it seem that the vessels were likely to
come to close quarters, and the English captain seized that occasion
to call up his boarders. But they refused, saying, "She's too heavy
for us." And a few minutes later the Englishman hauled down his flag,
having lost nine killed or mortally wounded, and fourteen wounded. The
Americans had suffered but little; only two men being injured, and
these but slightly. The shot of the enemy had passed through the
rigging of the "Peacock," while the "Epervier" had been hulled
forty-five times.

The "Epervier" proved to be a valuable prize. In her hold specie to
the amount of one hundred and eighteen thousand dollars was found;
and, when the brig was sold to the United States Government, she
brought fifty-five thousand dollars: so that the prize-money won by
that action kept the sailors in good-humor for many months to come.
But, before the prize could be safely carried into an American port,
she had a gantlet to run, in which she narrowly escaped capture. After
the wreck of battle had been cleared away, the brig and her captor
made for Savannah, but were sighted and chased by two British
frigates. The "Peacock," in the hope of drawing away the pursuers,
left her prize, and headed out to sea. One frigate only followed her,
and the other pressed on hotly after the "Epervier," which, to avoid
capture, was forced to run into shallow water, whither the heavy
frigate could not follow her. But she was not to escape so easily; for
the boats of the frigate were lowered, filled with armed men, and set
out in pursuit of the brig, which moved but slowly before the light
breeze then blowing. The boats soon overhauled the fugitive, and
escape seemed hopeless; for the "Epervier" was manned by a prize-crew
of only sixteen men. But Lieut. Nicholson, who was in command,
determined to try the effect of bluster. Accordingly he leaped upon
the taffrail, with a speaking-trumpet in his hand, and shouted out
orders as if calling a huge crew to quarters. The British, who were
within easy range, stopped their advance, and, fearing a destructive
broadside from the brig's guns, turned and fled precipitately. The
"Epervier" continued her course, and reached Savannah in safety on the
1st of May. The "Peacock" reached the same port four days later.

At the moment when the captured "Epervier," flying the stars and
stripes, was proudly making her way up the harbor of Savannah amid the
plaudits of the people of the little city, there sailed from
Portsmouth, N.H., a vessel that was destined to fight a good fight for
the honor of that starry banner; and, after winning a glorious
victory, to disappear forever from the face of the ocean, carrying to
some unknown grave a crew of as brave hearts as ever beat under
uniforms of navy blue.

This was the new sloop of war "Wasp," named after the gallant little
craft that had been taken by the British after her capture of the
"Frolic." She was a stanch three-master, carrying eleven guns to a
broadside. Her crew was purely American, not a foreigner among them;
but all trained seamen from the seaboard villages and towns of New
England,--the homes at that time of probably the hardiest seafaring
population in the world. Capt. Blakely, who commanded the vessel, had
been attached to the "Enterprise" for some time, but had been ordered
to the command of the "Wasp" a few days before the former vessel
fought her successful battle with the "Boxer." Blakely, while in
command of the "Enterprise," had greatly desired to meet an enemy
worthy of his metal. Great, then, was his chagrin, when the
"Enterprise," two weeks after he quitted her, fought her gallant
battle. In a letter written in January, 1814, he says, "I shall ever
view as one of the most unfortunate events of my life having quitted
the 'Enterprise' at the moment I did. Had I remained in her a
fortnight longer, my name might have been classed with those who stand
so high. I cannot but consider it a mortifying circumstance that I
left her but a few days before she fell in with the only enemy upon
this station with which she could have creditably contended. I confess
I felt heartily glad when I received my order to take command of the
'Wasp,' conceiving that there was no hope of doing any thing in the
'Enterprise.' But when I heard of the contest of the latter ship, and
witnessed the great delay in the equipment of the former, I had no
cause to congratulate myself. The 'Peacock' has ere this spread her
plumage to the winds, and the 'Frolic' will soon take her revels on
the ocean; but the 'Wasp' will, I fear, remain for some time a dull,
harmless drone in the waters of her country."

Notwithstanding his impatience, Blakely was forced to endure the
restraints of Portsmouth navy-yard for nearly three months, while the
"Wasp" was fitting out; but when she did finally get to sea, on May 1,
1814, she proved herself to be far from a "dull, harmless drone."
Slipping unobserved through the British blockading line, the "Wasp"
made straight for the European coast before a fresh wind, and was soon
cruising in the chops of the English channel, where the "Argus" had
won her laurels and met with her defeat. Many English merchantmen were
captured and burned, and the terror that spread in English shipping
circles recalled the days of the "Argus."

At daylight on the 28th of June, the "Wasp" sighted two merchantmen,
and straightway gave chase. Soon a third vessel was discovered on the
weather-beam; and, abandoning the vessels first sighted, the American
bore down upon the stranger. She proved to be the "Reindeer," a
British brig-sloop of eighteen guns, carrying a crew of one hundred
and eighteen men. Although the British vessel was by no means a match
in weight of metal for the "Wasp," her captain, William Manners,
brought her into action with a cool gallantry which well justified his
reputation as one of the bravest men in the British navy.

[Illustration: Boarding the "Reindeer."]

At ten o'clock in the morning the ships were near enough to each other
to exchange signals, but several hours were spent in manoeuvring for
the weather-gage; so that it was not until after three in the
afternoon that the action fairly opened. The day was admirably
suitable for a naval battle. Light clouds floated across the sky, and
the gentle breeze that was blowing had sufficient strength to propel
the ships without careening them. The surface of the ocean was
unusually calm for that quarter, in which a rather choppy sea is
usually running. Before the light breeze the "Wasp" came down upon her
foe, bows on, with her decks cleared for action, and the men at their
quarters. On the top-gallant forecastle of the "Reindeer" was mounted
a twelve-pound carronade, and the action was opened by the discharge
of this piece. In the position she then held, the "Wasp" was unable to
reply; and her crew had to bear five effective shots from this gun
without being able to fire a shot in return,--an ordeal that less
well-disciplined crews might not have endured. For nine minutes the
Americans returned not a shot; but then the "Wasp" luffed up, firing
the guns from aft forward as they bore. The two ships were now lying
broadside to broadside, not twenty yards apart, and every shot told.
For ten minutes this position was held, and the two crews worked like
Furies in loading and firing the great guns. The roar of the cannon
was incessant, and the recoil of the heavy explosions deadened what
little way the ships had on when fire was opened. Capt. Manners was
too old an officer not to know, that, in an artillery duel of that
kind, the victory would surely rest with the side that carried the
heaviest guns: so he ran his vessel aboard the "Wasp" on the starboard
quarter, intending to board and carry the day with the stubborn,
dashing gallantry shown by British seamen when once led to an enemy's
deck. At the ringing notes of the bugle, calling up the boarders, the
British gathered aft, their faces begrimed with gunpowder, their arms
bare, and their keen cutlasses firmly clutched in their strong right
hands. The Americans took the alarm at once, and crowded forward to
repel the enemy. The marines, whose hard duty it is in long-range
fighting to stand with military impassiveness, drawn up in line on
deck, while the shot whistle by them, and now and then cut great gaps
in their straight lines,--the marines came aft, with their muskets
loaded and bayonets fixed. Before them were sailors with sharp-pointed
boarding-pikes, ready to receive the enemy should he come aboard;
while close under the bulwarks were grouped the boarders, ready with
cutlass and pistol to beat back the flood of men that should come
pouring over the side. The grating of the ships' sides told that the
vessels were touching; and the next instant the burly British seamen,
looming up like giants, as they dashed through the dense murkiness of
the powder-smoke, were among the Americans, cutting and firing right
and left. From the deck of the "Reindeer" the marines kept up a
constant fire of musketry, to which the sea-soldiers of the "Wasp"
responded vigorously. Marksmen posted in the tops of each vessel
picked off men from their enemy's decks, choosing generally the
officers.

[Illustration: The Captain of the "Reindeer."]

Sharp and bloody though the British attack was, the boarders could
make no way against the stubborn stand of the Americans. Capt.
Manners, seeing his men beaten back, sprang forward to rally them. He
was desperately wounded. A gun-shot had passed through his thighs, and
a grape-shot had cut across the calves of his legs; but, maimed and
bleeding to death as he was, he leaped into the rigging, and, cheering
and waving his sword, called to his men to follow him to the decks of
the Yankee. The Britons rallied nobly under the encouragement of their
brave captain, and again advanced to the assault. But the figure of
the daring officer, as he stood thus before his men, waving his sword
and calling on them to come on, caught the eye of one of the men in
the "Wasp's" maintop; and the next instant a ball crashed into the
captain's brain, and he fell heavily to the deck, with his dying eyes
turned upwards toward the flag in whose service he had given his life.

Seeing the British captain fall and the men waver, Capt. Blakely with
a cheer called up the boarders of the "Wasp;" and in an instant a
stream of shouting sailors, cutlass in hand, was pouring over the
hammock-nettings, and driving the foe backward on his own decks. The
British still fought stubbornly; but their numbers were terribly
thinned, and their officers had fallen one by one, until now the
captain's clerk was the highest officer left. Seeing his men falling
back before the resistless torrent of boarders, this gentleman finally
struck the flag; and the battle ended, twenty-seven minutes after the
"Reindeer" had fired the opening gun, and eighteen after the "Wasp"
had responded.

[Illustration: The End of the "Reindeer."]

The execution and damage done on the "Reindeer" by the "Wasp's" shot
were appalling. Of her crew of one hundred and eighteen men,
thirty-three were killed or fatally wounded, and thirty-four were
wounded. The havoc wrought among her officers has already been
mentioned. Evidence of the accuracy and skill of the American gunners
was to be seen in the fact that the brig was completely cut to pieces
in the line of her ports. Her decks were swept clean of boats, spars,
and rigging. Her masts were badly shattered, and her foremast soon
went by the board. The "Wasp" had suffered severely, but was in much
better condition than her captured adversary. Eleven of her crew were
killed or mortally wounded, and fifteen were wounded severely or
slightly. She had been hulled by six round and many grape shot, and
her foremast had been cut by a twenty-four-pound shot. A few hours'
work cleared from her decks all trace of the bloody fight, and she was
in condition for another action. But it would have been folly to try
to get the crippled "Reindeer" to port from that region, swarming with
British cruisers: so Capt. Blakely took the prisoners on the "Wasp,"
put a few of the wounded on a neutral vessel that happened to pass,
and, burning the prize, made his way to the harbor of L'Orient. He had
fought a brave fight, and come out victor after a desperate contest.
But, though defeated, the plucky British might well boast of the
gallant manner in which they engaged an enemy so much their superior
in strength. History nowhere records a more gallant death than that of
the British captain, who fell leading his men in a dashing but vain
attempt to retrieve the day by boarding. In its manoeuvring, in the
courage and discipline of the crews, and in the gallantry of the two
captains, the action of the "Wasp" and the "Reindeer" may well go down
to history as a model naval duel of the age of sails.

The "Wasp" remained in port for several weeks, occupying the time in
refitting, and filling the gaps in her crew by enlistment from the
American privateers which then were to be seen occasionally in every
port of the world. She then put out to sea, and soon fell in with a
convoy of ten British merchantmen, under the protection of the
seventy-four "Armada." Though he had no intention of giving battle to
the line-of-battle ship, Blakely determined to capture one of the
merchantmen; and to this end the "Wasp" hung upon the skirts of the
convoy, making rapid dashes now at one vessel, then at another, and
keeping the seventy-four in constant anxiety. Finally the swift little
cruiser actually succeeded in capturing one of the vessels, and
escaping before the heavy seventy-four could get to the scene of the
conflict. The prize proved to be a valuable one, for she was laden
with iron and brass cannon and military stores.

Towards nightfall of the same day, Sept. 1, 1814, four more sail were
sighted; and the "Wasp" at once made off in chase of the most
weatherly. At eight o'clock the "Wasp" had gained so rapidly upon the
chase, that the latter began firing with her stern chaser, and soon
after opened with one of her lee guns. All the time the enemy kept up
a vigorous signalling with rockets, lanterns, and guns. By half-past
nine the "Wasp" was within hailing-distance, and an officer posted on
the bow hailed the stranger several times; but as she returned no
satisfactory answer, and refused to heave to, the "Wasp" opened upon
her with a twelve-pound carronade, and soon after poured a broadside
into her quarter. The two ships ploughed through the black water,
under full sail, side by side. The Americans had no idea of the
identity of their assailant, but, by the flashes of the guns, could
see that she was a heavy brig. Her ports gleamed brightly with
battle-lanterns; and the crowds of sailors in the tops, and the
regularity of her fire, showed that she was a man-of-war with a
well-disciplined crew, and no mere marauding privateer. For a time
this running fight continued at such short range that the only
American injured was struck by a wad from the enemy's cannon. The
British gunners were poor marksmen, and the "Wasp" suffered but
little; but it was evident that the American fire was taking effect,
for gun after gun on the enemy was silenced. At ten o'clock the
Americans, receiving no response to their carronade, stopped firing;
and Capt. Blakely, seizing a speaking-trumpet, shouted across the
water, "Have you struck?" No answer came, and the enemy began a feeble
fire. The "Wasp" let fly another broadside, and Blakely repeated the
question. This time an affirmative response came through the darkness;
and the "Wasp" stopped firing, and made preparations to take
possession of her prize. Just as the boat was being lowered from the
davits, the lookout's cry of "Sail, ho!" checked the proceedings.
Through the black night a cloud of canvas could be seen far astern,
denoting the presence of another ship, probably an enemy. The drums of
the "Wasp" beat fiercely; and the men trooped back to their quarters,
ready for a second battle. But in the mean time two more sail hove in
sight, and there remained to the "Wasp" nothing but flight. She
accordingly made off into the darkness, receiving one broadside from
one of the newly arrived men-of-war as she departed. So suddenly was
she forced to fly, that she was unable to learn the name and condition
of the vessel she had forced to surrender.

It became known in the United States later that the "Wasp's" adversary
in the battle in the darkness was the British sloop-of-war "Avon," of
eighteen guns. She was badly cut up by the fire of the American
gunners, losing her mainmast early in the action. At the time she
surrendered, she was in a sinking condition; and, had it not been for
the timely arrival of the brig-sloop "Castilian" and the "Tartarus,"
both British, the crew of the "Avon" would have been prisoners on the
"Wasp," or carried to the bottom in the shattered hulk of their own
ship. The loss on the "Avon" was ten killed and thirty-two wounded,
while on the "Wasp" but three men were injured.

Of all this the gallant Capt. Blakely was ignorant; and, indeed, it is
probable that he never knew with whom he had fought his last battle.
For the subsequent history of the "Wasp" is more tragic in its
unfathomable mystery than is the fate of the bravest ship ever sent to
the bottom by the broadsides of an enemy. What was the end of the
"Wasp," and where her bones now lie, no one knows. For some little
time after her battle with the "Avon," her movements can be traced.
Sept. 12, she captured the British brig "Three Brothers," and scuttled
her; two days later, the brig "Bacchus" met the same fate at her
hands. Sept. 21, she took the brig "Atlanta," eight guns; and, this
being a valuable prize, Midshipman Geisinger of the "Wasp" was put on
board, and took her safely to Savannah. He brought the last news that
was heard of the ill-fated cruiser for many years. Months passed, and
lengthened into years; and still the "Wasp" came not into port, nor
could any trace of her whereabouts be found. As time passed on, the
attempts to account for her delay changed into theories as to the
cause of her total disappearance. All sorts of rumors were afloat.
According to one account, the ship was wrecked on the African coast,
and her gallant lads were ending their weary lives as slaves to the
turbaned Moors of Barbary. Another theory was based on the rumor that
an English frigate went into Cadiz much crippled, and with her crew
severely injured, and reported that she had been engaged with a heavy
American corvette, which had so suddenly disappeared that she was
thought to have sunk with all on board. But, as time passed on, the
end of the "Wasp" was forgotten by all save a few whose hearts ached
for some of the gallant lads thus blotted from the face of the earth.

Years after, the fate of the daring cruiser was again brought into
remembrance by fresh news curiously found. When the officers and crew
of the "Essex," after that vessel's gallant battle with the "Phoebe"
and "Cherub," were sent to the United States under parole, two
officers remained at Valparaiso, to give testimony before the
prize-court. These gentlemen were Lieut. McKnight, and Mr. Lyman a
master's mate. After going to Brazil in the "Phoebe," the two officers
took passage in a Swedish brig bound for England. Months passed; and,
nothing being heard from them, their friends became alarmed for their
safety. In that time, before the day of the telegraph and steam
transportation, many things might have easily detained the two
officers for a year or more, and nothing be heard of them. But, when
two years had passed, inquiries began to be made as to their fate,
both by their friends and the naval authorities. The first step was to
find the vessel upon which they had left Brazil. This was a work of
time; so that it was many years after the disappearance of the
officers when the brig was found lying at a London dock. She was the
brig "Adonis," and the master proved to be the same who had commanded
her when the two officers had taken passage. He readily recalled the
circumstance, but claimed that the two passengers had left him in
mid-ocean to go aboard an American man-of-war; and in proof of this he
brought out the log-book, and, turning back to the year 1814, pointed
out the following entries:--

[Illustration: The End of the "Wasp."]

     "AUG. 23.--Left Rio de Janeiro; Stephen Decatur McKnight and
     James Lyman, passengers for England.

     "OCT. 9.--At eight o'clock in the morning discovered a strange
     sail giving chase to us, and fired several guns; she gaining very
     fast. At half-past ten o'clock hove to, and was boarded by an
     officer dressed in an English doctor's uniform; the vessel also
     hoisted an English ensign. The officer proceeded to examine my
     ship's papers, etc., likewise the letter-bags, and took from one
     of them a letter to the victualling office, London. Finding I had
     two American officers as passengers, he immediately left the
     ship, and went on board the sloop-of-war. He shortly after
     returned, took the American gentlemen with him, and went a second
     time on board the ship. In about half an hour he returned, with
     Messrs. McKnight and Lyman; and they informed me that the vessel
     was the United States sloop-of-war 'Wasp,' commanded by Capt.
     Blakely, or Blake, last from France, where she had refitted; had
     lately sunk the 'Reindeer,' English sloop-of-war, and another
     vessel, which sunk without their being able to save a single
     person, or learn the vessel's name; that Messrs. McKnight and
     Lyman had now determined to leave me and go on board the 'Wasp;'
     paid me their passage in dollars, at 5_s._ 9_d._; and, having
     taken their luggage on board, the 'Wasp' made sail to the
     southward. Shortly after they had left, I discovered that Lieut.
     McKnight had left his writing-desk behind; and I immediately made
     signal for the 'Wasp' to return, and stood towards her. They,
     observing my signal, stood back, came alongside, and sent their
     boat on board for the writing-desk; after which they sent me a
     log-line and some other presents, and made all sail in a
     direction for the line, and, I have reason to suppose, for the
     convoy that passed on Thursday previous."

And so the "Wasp," with her ill-fated crew thus re-enforced, passed
forever from the sight of man. What was her course after leaving the
"Adonis," none may ever know. Whether some chance spark, touching the
deadly stores of her magazine, sent vessel and crew to a sudden but
merciful death; or whether, after gallantly battling with some fierce
tropical hurricane, she drifted about the trackless ocean a helpless
hulk, with a slowly dying crew, carried hither and yon before the
winds and the currents, until her timbers, rotting asunder, gave a
watery sepulchre to her crew of lifeless bodies, must remain a mystery
until the day when the sea shall give up its dead. But, until that day
comes, the gallant deeds done by vessel and crew for the flag under
which they served should keep the names of the "Wasp" and her men ever
memorable in the annals of the great nation whose infancy they so
gallantly protected.




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.


The remaining work of the British blockading squadrons along the
Atlantic Coast demands some attention, and some account must be given
of certain land actions which were inseparably connected with the
course of naval events. This narrative can well be divided into two
parts, each dealing with the operations of one section of the
blockading fleet; thus tracing the course of events up to the close of
the war on the New England coast, before taking up the proceedings on
the Chesapeake station.

It will be remembered that Decatur had been checked in his attempt to
break the blockade at the eastern end of Long Island Sound, and was
forced to take the frigates "United States" and "Macedonian," and the
sloop-of-war "Hornet," into New London Harbor. Early in December,
1813, he determined to try to slip out; and choosing a dark night,
when wind and tide were in his favor, he dropped down the bay, and was
about to put to sea, when bright blue lights blazed up on either side
of the harbor's mouth, and the plan was exposed by the treachery of
some party never detected. After this failure, the two frigates
returned up the river, where they remained until the end of the war.
The "Hornet" managed to get to sea, and did good service before peace
was declared.

In April, 1814, the British blockaders on the New England coast began
active operations by sending an expedition up the Connecticut River to
Pautopaug Point, where the invaders landed, spiked the guns of a small
battery, and destroyed twenty-two vessels. Thence they proceeded down
the river, burning a few more craft on the way, and escaped safely to
their ships; although a party of militia, and sailors and marines from
Decatur's vessels, attempted to cut them off. Shortly after this
occurrence, a fleet of American gunboats attacked the blockading
squadron off New London, and succeeded in inflicting serious damages
upon the enemy.

In June, the enemy's depredations extended to the Massachusetts coast.
The little village of Wareham was the first sufferer. A sudden descent
made by boats' crews from the frigates "Superb" and "Nimrod" so
completely surprised the inhabitants, that the enemy burned the
shipping at the wharves, set fire to a factory, and retreated before
the villagers fully comprehended the blow that had fallen upon them.
Like occurrences took place at other coastwise towns; and, in every
case, the militia proved powerless to check the enemy. All up and down
the New England coast, from Maine to the mouth of the Connecticut
River, the people were panic-stricken; and hardly a night passed
without witnessing the flames of some bonfire kindled by the British
out of American property.

[Illustration: The Descent on Wareham.]

In August, 1814, Commodore Hardy appeared off Stonington with a fleet
of several vessels, headed by the seventy-four "Ramillies." Casting
anchor near shore, he sent to the mayor and selectmen the following
curt note: "Not wishing to destroy the unoffending inhabitants
residing in the town of Stonington, one hour is granted them, from the
receipt of this, to remove out of town." This message naturally caused
great consternation; and, while messengers were sent in all directions
to call together the militia, the answer was returned to the fleet:
"We shall defend the place to the last extremity. Should it be
destroyed, we will perish in its ruins." And, having thus defied the
enemy, the farmers and fishermen who inhabited the town set about
preparing for its defence. The one battery available for service
consisted of two eighteen-pounders and a four-pounder, mounted behind
earth breastworks. The gunners were put under the command of an old
sailor, who had been impressed into the British navy, where he served
four years. The skill he thus acquired in gunnery, he now gladly used
against his former oppressors. It was near nightfall when the British
opened fire; and they kept up a constant cannonade with round shot,
bombs, Congreve rockets, and carcasses until near midnight, without
doing the slightest damage. The bursting shells, the fiery rockets,
and the carcasses filled with flaming chemicals, fairly filled the
little wooden village with fire; but the exertions of the people
prevented the spread of the flames. The fleet ceased firing at
midnight, but there was no peace for the villagers. Militia-men were
pouring in from the country round about, laborers were at work
throwing up breastwork, carriers were dashing about in search of
ammunition, and all was activity, until, with the first gleam of
daylight, the fire of the ships was re-opened. The Americans promptly
responded, and soon two eighteen-pound shot hulled the brig
"Despatch." For an hour or two a rapid fire was kept up; then, the
powder giving out, the Americans spiked their largest gun, and,
nailing a flag to the battery flagstaff, went in search of more
ammunition. The British did not land; and the Americans, finding six
kegs of powder, took the gun to a blacksmith, who drilled out the
spike, and the action continued. So vigorous and well directed was the
fire of the Americans, that the "Despatch" was forced to slip her
cables and make off to a place of safety. That afternoon a truce was
declared, which continued until eight the next morning. By that time,
the Americans had assembled in sufficient force to defeat any landing
party the enemy could send ashore. The bombardment of the town
continued; but the aim of the British was so inconceivably poor, that,
during the three days' firing, no damage was done by their shot. A
more ludicrous fiasco could hardly be imagined, and the Americans were
quick to see the comical side of the affair. Before departing, the
British fired over fifteen tons of lead and iron into the town. A
quantity of this was picked up by the Americans, and offered for sale.
In a New York paper appeared the advertisement,--

     "Just received, and offered for sale, about three tons of round
     shot, consisting of six, nine, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, and
     thirty-two pounds; very handsome, being a small proportion of
     those which were fired from His Britannic Majesty's ships on the
     unoffending inhabitants of Stonington, in the recent _brilliant_
     attack on that place. Likewise a few carcasses, in good order,
     weighing about two hundred pounds each. Apply," etc.

A popular bard of the time set forth in rollicking verse the exploits
of the British gunners:--

  "They killed a goose, they killed a hen,
  Three hogs they wounded in a pen;
  They dashed away,--and pray what then?
      That was not taking Stonington.

  "The shells were thrown, the rockets flew;
  But not a shell of all they threw--
  Though every house was full in view--
      Could burn a house in Stonington."

With this affair, in which the British expended ammunition to the
amount of fifty thousand dollars, and lost twenty men killed and fifty
wounded, active offensive operations along the Connecticut coast
ended. Farther north, however, the British still raided towns and
villages, showing more spirit in their attacks than did Hardy at
Stonington. Eastport, Me., was captured in July, and converted into a
veritable British colony. The inhabitants who remained in the town
were forced to take an oath of allegiance to Great Britain;
fortifications were thrown up, and an arsenal established; King
George's officials were placed in the custom-house, and thenceforward
until the end of the war the town was virtually British. Encouraged by
this success, the enemy undertook a more difficult task. A formidable
fleet of men-of-war and transports, bearing almost ten thousand
troops, was fitted out at Halifax for the purpose of reducing to
British rule all that part of Maine lying between Passamaquoddy Bay
and the Penobscot River. This expedition set sail from Halifax on the
26th of August, bound for Machias; but on the voyage down the coast of
Maine the brig "Rifleman" was encountered, and from her the presence
of the United States corvette "Adams" in the Penobscot River was
learned. It will be remembered that the "Adams," before entering the
river, had chased the British brig. Upon learning this, the British
naval commander, Admiral Griffiths, pressed forward to the mouth of
the Penobscot, and, anchoring there, despatched a land and naval
expedition up the river for the capture of the corvette.

When the news of this advancing force reached Capt. Morris, the
"Adams" was partially out of water, dismantled, and in the hands of
the ship carpenters, who were repairing the injuries she had received
on the rocks off Mount Desert. The ship herself was utterly
defenceless, but Morris made strenuous attempts to collect a land
force to defend her. He managed to rally a few hundred militia-men,
who, with the sailors and marines, were routed by the enemy on the
night of the 3d of September. Finding that the enemy's forces were not
to be driven back by so small a body of men, Morris retreated, first
setting fire to the corvette, which was totally destroyed before the
British came up.

The retreating sailors were then forced to march over rugged roads to
Portsmouth, N.H.; and, as walking was an exercise they were little
accustomed to, many suffered severely from the unusual exertion. The
difficulty of getting provisions along the road led the men to
separate into several parties; but, notwithstanding the opportunities
thus afforded for desertion, all who were not broken down by the long
march ultimately reported for duty at the Portsmouth navy-yard.

Along the Southern seaboard the course of the war was even more
disastrous to the Americans. Intelligence which reached the national
authorities in the spring of 1814 led them to believe that the British
were planning an expedition for the capture of Washington. Grave as
was the danger, the authorities were slow to move; and though in July
the Government called for fifteen thousand troops, and gave their
command to Gen. Winder, yet the actual defensive force about the
national capital consisted of but a few hundred militia. The naval
defence was intrusted to the veteran Commodore Barney, who had served
with distinction in the Revolution, and during the early years of the
second war with Great Britain had commanded the Baltimore privateer
"Rossie." The force put under Barney's command consisted of twenty-six
gunboats and barges, manned by nine hundred men. Chiefly by his own
energetic exertions, this force was ready for service in April; and by
June the crews were drilled and disciplined, and the commanders
schooled in the tactics of squadron evolutions. On the 1st of that
month occurred the first brush with the enemy. The American flotilla
was then lying in Chesapeake Bay, a little below the mouth of the
Patuxent; and, a portion of the enemy's squadron coming within range,
Barney ordered out his forces in chase. The British, outnumbered, fled
down the bay; but, though Barney was rapidly overhauling them, he saw
his hopes of victory shattered by the sudden appearance of His
Britannic Majesty's seventy-four gun ship "Dragon." Thus re-enforced,
it became the turn of the British to pursue; and the Americans
retreated, firing constantly as they fled. The British continuing
their advance, Barney was forced to take shelter in the Patuxent
River; and he was gradually forced up that stream as far as the mouth
of St. Leonard's Creek. The enemy then, feeling certain that the
Americans were fairly entrapped, anchored at the mouth of the river,
and awaited re-enforcements. These soon arrived; and on the 8th of the
month the enemy's forces, consisting of a frigate, brig, and two
schooners, moved up the river to the mouth of the creek. Farther they
could not go, owing to shoal-water; but they fitted out a small
flotilla of barges, and sent them on up the creek. With this enemy
Commodore Barney was ready to come to close quarters; and he moved
down upon the British, who quickly retreated to the shelter of their
ships. Two or three such sham attacks were made by the enemy, but not
until the 10th of the month did they actually give battle to the
Americans.

On the morning of that day the British advanced in force to the
attack; and the peaceful little creek was ablaze with flags and bright
uniforms, and the wooded shores echoed back the strains of martial
music. Twenty-one barges, one rocket-boat, and two schooners formed
the British column of attack, which moved grandly up the creek, with
the bands playing patriotic airs, and the sailors, confident of
victory, cheering lustily. Eight hundred men followed the British
colors. Against this force Barney advanced with but five hundred
sailors. His sloop and gun-vessels he left at anchor, as being too
unwieldy for the narrow shoal-waters of St. Leonard's Creek; and he
met the enemy's flotilla with but thirteen barges. The enemy opened
the action at long range with rockets and howitzers. The former were
terrible missiles in an action of this character, corresponding to the
shells of modern naval warfare. Some idea of their destructiveness may
be derived from the fact, that one of them, fired at long range,
exploded and set fire to a boat, after having first passed through the
body of one of her crew. Barney had no rockets; and, as the combat at
long range was telling upon his men, he at once dashed forward into
the midst of the enemy. Soon the barges were engaged in desperate
hand-to-hand conflicts. The sailors, grappling with their adversary's
craft, fought with pistol and cutlass across the gunwales. Barney, in
a small barge with twenty men, dashed about, now striking a blow in
aid of some overmatched American boat, then cheering on some laggard,
or applauding some deed of gallantry that occurred in his sight. Major
William Barney, son of the commodore, saw an American barge on fire,
and deserted by her crew who feared the explosion of her magazine.
Running his boat alongside, he jumped into the flaming craft; and by
dint of bailing in water, and rocking her from side to side, he
succeeded in saving the barge. For more than an hour the action raged,
both sides fighting with great vigor and gallantry; but the Americans
having pierced the British line, the enemy, falling into confusion,
turned, and strained every muscle to gain the protection of their
ship's guns. The Americans followed in hot pursuit; but their
course was abruptly checked at the mouth of the creek by a British
schooner, whose eighteen guns commanded respect. For a moment the
pursuing barges fell back; then, choosing advantageous positions, they
opened fire upon the schooner with such effect that she soon turned to
escape. She succeeded in getting under the protecting guns of the
frigate and sloop-of-war, but was so cut to pieces in the short action
that she was run aground and abandoned. The larger vessels now opened
fire upon Barney's forces; and the flotilla, after a few shots of
defiance, returned to its quarters up the creek.

[Illustration: The Battle of the Barges.]

For the next two weeks all was quiet along the shores of the Patuxent
and St. Leonard's Creek. The enemy had learned wisdom from their late
defeat, and contented themselves with blockading the mouth of the
creek, and leaving Barney undisturbed in his retreat. But the doughty
commodore had no idea of being thus confined, and during the time of
quiet made preparations for an attempt to break the blockade. Land
forces from Washington were sent down to aid in this attempt; and two
pieces of artillery were to be mounted on a hill at the mouth of the
creek, and thence throw red-hot shot into the enemy's ships. The land
forces, however, rendered not the slightest assistance; and a too
cautious colonel posted the battery at such a point that no shot could
reach the enemy without first passing through a hill. Accordingly,
when Barney led his flotilla gallantly down to the attack, he found
that the issue of the conflict rested upon the sailors alone. From the
battery, which was expected to draw the enemy's fire, not a single
effective shot was fired. The sailors fought nobly, using their heavy
long twelves and eighteens with great effect. But they were sadly
hampered by their position; for the mouth of the creek was so narrow
that but eight barges could lie abreast, and the others coming down
from above soon packed the little stream from shore to shore, giving
the enemy a mark that the poorest gunner could hardly miss. Against
the storm of grape and canister that the British poured upon them, the
sailors had absolutely no protection. The barges were without
bulwarks, and the blue-jackets at the guns and at the oars were
exposed to the full force of the British fire. Yet in this exposed
situation the gallant fellows kept up the fight for nearly an hour,
only withdrawing when the last ray of hope for help from the shore
battery had vanished. Shortly after the Americans abandoned the
attack, the blockading squadron got under way and stood down the bay.
From the way in which one of the frigates was working her pumps, the
Americans saw that their fire had not been entirely without effect.

Barney's flotilla had now given the British so much trouble that they
determined to destroy it without delay; and an expedition of more than
five thousand men--composed of regulars, marines, and a few
negroes--was carried up the Patuxent, and landed at Benedict, where an
armed brig had been stationed to cover the disembarkation. It was
early dawn when the signal to land was given, and the river was
covered in an instant with a well-manned and warlike flotilla. It was
hard work for the British sailors, for a strong current was running;
but by three o'clock in the afternoon the whole army was landed, and
encamped in a strong position on a hill overlooking the village.
Though no American troops were anywhere in the vicinity, the landing
was conducted with the utmost caution. As the prow of each boat grated
on the sand, the soldiers leaped on the beach, and instantly drew up
in line, ready to repel any attack. After the infantry was landed,
about a hundred artillerymen followed, and the same number of sailors
dragging howitzers.

It is easily understood that this powerful force was not organized
solely to destroy Barney's pitiful little flotilla. The real purpose
of the British commander was to press on into the interior, and
capture Washington, which the Americans had foolishly left without any
defences whatever. It came to Barney's ears that Admiral Cockburn had
boasted that he would destroy the American flotilla, and dine in
Washington the following Sunday. This news the American commodore sent
off to the authorities at the capital, and they then began to make
futile preparations to repel the invader. In the mean time the British
commenced their march up the shores of the Patuxent, meeting with no
opposition. Barney, knowing that the defence of the national capital
was of far greater importance than the fate of his flotilla, landed
with four hundred men, and hastened to the American lines before
Washington. He left the barges under the command of the second
lieutenant, Mr. Frazier, with instructions to set fire to every boat
on the appearance of the enemy, and then join the commodore with all
the men left under his charge. Accordingly, when the invading column
reached Nottingham, Mr. Frazier took the flotilla still higher up the
creek,--a move that vastly disconcerted the British, who saw their
prey eluding them. "But in the main object of our pursuit we were
disappointed," wrote a British officer. "The flotilla which had been
stationed opposite to Nottingham retired, on our approach, higher up
the stream; and we were consequently in the situation of a huntsman
who sees his hounds at fault, and has every reason to apprehend that
his game will escape." But the game never fell into the hands of the
ardent hunters; for the next day Mr. Frazier fulfilled his orders by
setting fire to every barge, and, after seeing several of the larger
boats blow up, mustered his men, and cut across the country, to join
his superior officer. The British naval forces soon after reached Pig
Point, the scene of this destruction, and there remained; while the
land forces immediately turned away from the river, and marched upon
Washington.

[Illustration: Sharp-Shooters.]

It is not necessary to give in detail the incidents of the series of
skirmishes by which the British fought their way to the American
capital. They were opposed by raw militia, and the few sailors and
marines under Barney. The former fled with promptitude at the very
first fire, but the sailors and marines fought gallantly. The fighting
was sharpest at Bladensburg; and here Barney's blue-jackets won praise
from everybody, even from the enemy whose advance they disputed.
Barney himself led the Americans, and sighted a favorite gun of the
sailors' battery, until he fell desperately wounded. This battery
commanded the road by which the main column of British advanced; and
by its hail of grape and canister it beat back the advancing
regiments, and for some time checked their further progress. The
British thereupon opened with rockets, and sent out sharp-shooters to
pick off the Yankee gunners. One of these riflemen was observed by the
Americans to deliberately build for himself a small redoubt of stones
from an old wall; and, lying down behind it, he began a deliberate
fire upon the Americans. His first bullet went through the cap of one
of the sailors, and the second sent a poor fellow to his long account.
The marines answered with their muskets; but the fellow's stone
rampart saved him, and he continued his fire. Barney vowed to put an
end to that affair, and, carefully sighting one of his cannon, pulled
the lanyard. The heavy round shot was seen to strike the
sharp-shooter's defence, and stones and man disappeared in a cloud of
dust. Meantime, the enemy had thrown out flanking parties under cover
of the woods, and had nearly surrounded the little band of sailors. A
musket-ball struck Barney in the thigh, and he began to grow faint
with loss of blood; and, finding that the militia had fled, and the
sailors were becoming exhausted, the commodore ordered a retreat. The
blue-jackets left the field in good order; but their gallant commander
had gone but a few steps, when the pain of his wound forced him to lie
down under a tree, and await the coming of the enemy. The British soon
came up, led by Gen. Ross and Capt. Wainwright of the navy. After
learning Barney's rank, and courteously offering to secure surgical
aid, the general turned to his companion, and, speaking of the
stubborn resistance made by the battery, said, "I told you it was the
flotilla men."--"Yes. You were right, though I could not believe you,"
was the response. "They have given us the only fighting we have had."

Meanwhile, the British, having routed the Americans at every point,
pressed on to Washington. The inhabitants fled before them, and the
town was almost deserted when the British marched in with banners
flying and bands playing. The enemy held the city for only a day; but
in that time they did such deeds of vandalism, that even the people
and the press of London cried out in indignation. The President's
house, the Capitol, all the public buildings except the Patent
Office, were burned to the ground. The navy-yard, with the uncompleted
ships on the stocks, was likewise burned; but in this the enemy only
acted in accordance with the rules of war. It was their destruction of
the public buildings, the national archives, and the Congressional
library, that aroused the wrathful indignation of all fair-minded
people, whether Americans or Europeans. "Willingly," said one London
newspaper, "would we throw a veil of oblivion over our transactions at
Washington. The Cossacks spared Paris, but we spared not the capital
of America." A second English journal fitly denounced the proceedings
as "a return to the times of barbarism."

[Illustration: The March on Washington.]

But, if the invaders are rightly to be blamed for the useless
vandalism they encouraged, the American authorities are still more
culpable for their neglect of the most ordinary precautions of war.
That a national capital, close to the sea, should be left virtually
unprotected while the enemy was massing his forces only a few miles
away, seems almost unbelievable. But so it was with Washington; for
five hundred flotilla men were forced to bear the brunt of the attack
of five thousand British. True it is that the military authorities had
massed seven thousand militia-men for the defence of the city; but
such was the trepidation of these untrained soldiers, that they fled
before the main body of the British had come into the fight. That the
sailors and marines fought bravely, we have the testimony of the
British themselves. Mr. Gleig, a subaltern in the attacking army,
writes, "Of the sailors, however, it would be injustice not to speak
in the terms which their conduct merits. They were employed as
gunners; and not only did they serve their guns with a quickness and
precision which astonished their assailants, but they stood till some
of them were actually bayonneted with fuses in their hands; nor was it
till their leader was wounded and taken, and they saw themselves
deserted on all sides by the soldiers, that they quitted the field."
Therefore, in the battle of Bladensburg, the blue-jackets won nothing
but honor, though the results of the battle were so mortifying to the
national pride of the people of the United States.

On the 25th of August the British left the smoking ruins of Washington
behind them, and made for their fleet lying in the Patuxent. They
feared that the outraged nation would rise upon them, and turn their
march into a bloody retreat, like that of the British soldiery from
the historic field of Lexington. Accordingly their departure was by
night, immediately after a furious storm of rain and wind. Strict
orders were issued to all the Americans in Washington, warning them,
under penalty of death, not to leave their houses until the sun rose
the next morning. Then the British stealthily marched out of the town.
"No man spoke above his breath," says subaltern Gleig. "Our very steps
were planted lightly, and we cleared the town without exciting
observation." A two days' march brought them to Benedict, where the
fleet lay in waiting for their reception.

[Illustration: The Burning of Washington.]

In the mean time, a portion of the British fleet had ascended the
Potomac as far as Alexandria, and, finding that town defenceless,
proceeded to dictate to the inhabitants the terms upon which they
could save their village from desolation. The British demanded that
all naval stores and ordnance, all the shipping and its furniture, all
merchandise, and all provisions in the town should be surrendered.
Several vessels had been scuttled, to prevent their falling into the
hands of the enemy; these, the British demanded, should be raised,
repaired, and delivered to them Time, however, did not permit the
fulfilment of this condition; but to the others, harsh and humiliating
though they were, the inhabitants were forced to accede. Heavy laden
with the spoils of the village, the pillagers weighed anchor and
started down the Potomac. But they were not destined to carry away
their booty unmolested. News of the expedition reached Baltimore, and
a large party of the sailors at the navy-yard were sent to the banks
of the Potomac to cut off the enemy's retreat. They were officered by
four men famous in American naval annals,--Perry, Rodgers, Porter, and
Creighton. At Indian Head, just below Mount Vernon, the Potomac River
narrows and flows swiftly between densely wooded bluffs. At this point
the Americans threw up redoubts, and, mounting all the cannon that
could be gathered on such short notice, prepared to dispute the
enemy's passage. When the British fleet hove in sight, they were
greeted with a storm of shot from the unsuspected batteries; and they
recoiled in confusion. Practised American hunters lined the woody
shores, and picked off the British sailors with musket-balls. For some
time the fleet was thus checked in its progress. Finally the admiral
determined that only by a bold dash could he escape; and accordingly,
massing his vessels and concentrating his fire on the chief battery,
he dashed past, and rejoined his superior officer, Cockburn, not
without paying dearly for his exploit at Alexandria.

While the British were thus devastating the shores of Chesapeake Bay,
they cast more than one longing look toward the thriving city of
Baltimore, which, by its violent patriotism, had done much to urge on
the war. From the shipyards of Baltimore came more than one stout
naval vessel that had forced the enemy to haul down his colors. But
that which more than any thing else aroused the hatred of the British
was the share Baltimore took in fitting out and manning those swift
privateers, concerning whose depredations upon British commerce we
shall have something to say in a later chapter. "It is a doomed town,"
said Vice-admiral Warren. "The truculent inhabitants of Baltimore must
be tamed with the weapons which shook the wooden turrets of
Copenhagen," cried the editor of a great London paper. But,
nevertheless, Baltimore did not fall before the invader, although for
some time the army and navy of the enemy were united in the attempt to
bring desolation upon the obnoxious city.

[Illustration: Planning the Attack.]

After the fall of Washington, the depredations of the British along
the shores of Chesapeake Bay redoubled, and the marauding expeditions
thus employed were really feelers thrown out to test the strength of
the defenses of Baltimore. That the marauders found some opposition,
is evident from a passage in the journal of a British officer. "But
these hasty excursions, though generally successful, were not always
performed without loss to the invaders." On one of these expeditions,
Sir Peter Parker, captain of the frigate "Menelaus," lost his life. He
had been ordered down to the mouth of the bay just after the fall of
Washington. "I must first have a frolic with the Yankees," said he.
And accordingly, after a jovial dinner aboard his frigate, he led a
night expedition of sailors and marines ashore, expecting to surprise
a small body of Maryland militia stationed at Moorfields. Sir Peter's
frolic turned out disastrously; for the Marylanders were on the watch,
and received the invaders with a fierce volley. Sir Peter was
gallantly cheering on his men, when a musket-ball cut the main artery
in his thigh. "They have hit me, Pearce," he said faintly to his
lieutenant; "but it's nothing. Push on, my brave boys, and follow me."
But even thus cheering, he fell back, the words died away in his
throat, and he bled to death before a surgeon could be found. It is
but right to say, that, though he sailed in Cockburn's command, he had
none of the cruel brutality which his admiral too often showed.

On the 12th of September a more serious assault was made upon
Baltimore. The British naval and military forces united in the attack,
which was made by land and sea. A force of nine thousand men,
including two thousand marines and two thousand sailors, was landed
fifteen miles from Baltimore, and under the command of Gen. Ross and
Admiral Cockburn marched gayly inland, never doubting that they would
find the Americans unprepared, and repeat their exploits at
Washington. In this expectation they were sadly disappointed; for the
Maryland militia, aided by a few regulars and seamen, outfought the
British at every point, and checked their farther advance. Among the
slain was Gen. Ross, who was shot down as he was leading the advance
of the British skirmishers. In the mean time, the British fleet had
been taking its share in the engagement by attempting to reduce Fort
McHenry. A large flotilla of frigates, schooners, sloops, and
bomb-ketches entered the Patapsco River on the morning of the 12th,
and, casting anchor out of the reach of the fort's guns, opened a
furious fire. The fort was manned by militia-men and a large
detachment of the gallant sailors from Barney's flotilla. When the
continual falling of shells within the fort told that the enemy had
come within range, the guns of Fort McHenry opened in response. But,
to the intense chagrin of the Americans, it was found that their works
mounted not a single gun that would carry to the enemy's fleet. There
then remained to the garrison only the trying duty of holding their
post, and enduring without response a galling fire from the enemy. All
the garrison stood to the guns without flinching; while the shrieking
shells fell on all sides, and, exploding, scattered deadly missiles in
all directions. One shell struck and dismounted one of the
twenty-four-pounders, killing and wounding several of its men. Admiral
Cochrane, who commanded the attacking fleet, saw this incident, and
ordered three of his bomb-vessels to move up nearer to the fort. This
gave the Americans the opportunity for which they had been longing,
and instantly every gun in the fort opened upon the three luckless
ketches. Half an hour of this fire sufficed to drive the three vessels
back to their original station.

Night fell, but brought no cessation of the bombardment. But the
enemy, while never slackening his fire, had determined to take
advantage of the darkness to send out a landing party to take two
small batteries on the banks of the Patapsco, and then assault Fort
McHenry from the rear. Twelve hundred and fifty men, with
scaling-ladders and fascines, left the fleet in barges, and moved up
the Patapsco towards Fort Covington and the City Battery. But their
plan, though well laid, was defeated by the vigilance and courage of
the garrisons of the two threatened positions,--sailors all, and many
of them men from Barney's flotilla, a training-school which seems to
have given to the region about Chesapeake Bay its most gallant
defenders. Just as the storming party turned the prows of the barges
towards the shore, they were discovered; and from McHenry, Covington,
and the City Battery burst a thunderous artillery-fire, that shook the
houses in Baltimore, and illumined the dark shores of the river with a
lurid glare. Bold as the British sailors were, they could advance no
farther under so terrible a fire. Two of the barges were shot to
pieces, leaving their crews struggling in the water. A ceaseless hail
of grape and canister spread death and wounds broadcast among the
enemy; and, after wavering a moment, they turned and fled to their
ships. Cochrane, seeing his plan for taking the American positions by
assault thus frustrated, redoubled the fury of his fire; hoping that,
when daybreak made visible the distant shore, nothing but a heap of
ruins should mark the spot where Fort McHenry stood the night before.

A night bombardment is at once a beautiful and a terrible spectacle.
The ceaseless flashing of the great guns, lighting up with a lurid
glare the dense clouds of smoke that hang over the scene of battle;
the roar of the artillery; the shriek of the shell as it leaves the
cannon's mouth, slowly dying into a murmur and a dull explosion, as,
with a flash of fire, the missile explodes far away,--combine to form
a picture, that, despite the horrors of wounds and death, rouses the
enthusiasm and admiration of the beholder. When viewed from the deck
of one of an attacking fleet, the scene is even more impressive. At
each discharge of the great guns, the vessel reels and trembles like a
huge animal in agony. The surging waters alongside reflect in their
black depths the flash of the cannon and the fiery trail of the flying
shell. Far in the distance can be seen the flashes of the enemy's
guns, each of which may mean the despatch of a missile bringing death
and pain in its track. One who has witnessed such a spectacle can
readily understand the fascination which men find in the great game of
war.

[Illustration: The Star Spangled Banner.]

Pacing the deck of the one of the British vessels was a young
American, whose temperament was such that he could fully appreciate
all the beauties of the scene, even though harassed by anxious fears
lest the British should be successful. This man was Francis S. Key,
who had visited the fleet with a flag of truce, but was unable to get
away before the bombardment began. When the sun set on the evening of
the 13th, Key saw his country's flag waving proudly over the ramparts
at which the British guns had been so furiously pounding. Would that
flag still be there when the sun should rise again? That was the
question which Key asked himself as he anxiously walked the deck
throughout the night, striving to pierce the darkness, and make out,
by the lurid lightnings of the cannon, whether the flag was still
there. As the night wore on, Key took an old letter from his pocket,
and on the blank sheet jotted down the lines of the immortal national
song, "The Star Spangled Banner." Its words merely voice the writer's
thoughts; for often during that night he looked anxiously shorewards,
to see if

       "the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
  Gave proof, through the night, that our flag was still there."

When the anxiously awaited daylight came, Fort McHenry still stood;
and over it waved defiantly the starry folds of the United States
flag. The British saw that, by land and sea, their attack had failed;
and early in the morning the fleet, after taking on board the remnant
of the land forces, sailed suddenly away, and left Baltimore safe.
They had bombarded Fort McHenry for twenty-five hours, throwing nearly
two thousand shells. Yet, wonderful as it may appear, only four of the
Americans were killed, and twenty-four wounded. With this failure the
British ended their chief offensive operations along the shores of the
Chesapeake. The greater part of the fleet and the soldiery then moved
southward, to take part in the operations along the Gulf coast, that
culminated in the disastrous defeat of the invaders at New Orleans.




CHAPTER XVI.

     DESULTORY HOSTILITIES ON THE OCEAN. -- ATTACK UPON FORT BOWYER.
     -- LAFITTE THE PIRATE. -- BRITISH EXPEDITION AGAINST NEW ORLEANS.
     -- BATTLE AT 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.


The naval incidents of the latter part of 1814 conferred little honor
upon either of the belligerents. Seldom did the meetings between
hostile ships rise to the dignity of battles. One or two small
American brigs fell a prey to British frigates; but in every instance
the disparity of force was so great that the weaker surrendered
without striking a blow. Such was the case with the sixteen-gun brig
"Rattlesnake," which escaped from one British frigate by throwing
overboard all her guns, only to immediately fall a prey to the
"Leander." In July of the same year, the United States brig "Siren"
was captured by the British frigate "Medway," off the coast of Africa,
after a long chase, during which the American hove overboard every
thing movable on the brig. Not all these petty encounters ended so
favorably for the enemy. Off New York a cutting-out party of
volunteers surprised and captured the British tender "Eagle," a small
craft carrying one thirty-two-pound howitzer, and fourteen men. Ten
days later, the frigate "Tenedos," which had done such good service on
the blockade, suffered the loss of her tender, which was gallantly
carried away by the crew of a Yankee gunboat. Some very desperate
combats between American privateers and British naval vessels were
fought about this time, and will be duly noted in detail in the
chapter treating of the exploits of the private armed navy.

As the autumn came on, the British naval forces began to rendezvous in
the Gulf of Mexico, preparatory to the campaign before New Orleans. On
Sept. 14, a squadron of four British sloops-of-war appeared off
Mobile, and opened fire upon Fort Bowyer, which guarded the entrance
to Mobile Bay. The attack was vigorous, and the defence determined. A
British land expedition moved upon the fort from the landward side;
and the little garrison found itself surrounded by enemies, many of
whom were Indians, whose savage assistance the British had accepted
from the very opening of the war. A small force, only, defended the
fort. Percy, the British admiral, knew the weakness of the garrison;
and, thinking of the ninety-two guns he could bring to bear against
the twenty worked by the Americans, announced proudly, that he would
give the garrison just twenty minutes to surrender. The twenty minutes
passed quickly, and still the fort responded savagely to the fire of
its assailants. The flag of the British ship "Hermes" was shot away;
and soon after, a round shot cut her cable, and she drifted upon a
sand-bank, and lay helpless, and exposed to a raking fire. Her
captain, having set her afire, abandoned her; and she soon blew up.
The other vessels kept up the attack gallantly for a time. The
flagstaff of the fort was shot away; but the flag soon re-appeared,
waving from a sponge-staff. The Americans then redoubled their fire,
which soon told so severely upon the British ships that they were
forced to withdraw. In the mean time, the assault of the Indians and
troops had been checked, and the forces driven back in disorder, thus
leaving the victory to the Americans.

It is not within the province of this work to treat of the military
operations that led up to the battle of New Orleans. But the last
months of 1814 witnessed a series of naval incidents trivial in
themselves, but deriving importance from their connection with Gen.
Jackson's great victory. Over certain incidents in the preparations of
the Americans for repelling the invasion hangs a shade of romance.

To the southward of the quaint, rambling, rose-covered city of New
Orleans, the tawny flood of the Mississippi winds towards the gulf in
huge serpentine curves. The shores between which it flows rise scarce
higher than the surface of the river itself; and a slight increase in
the volume of water, or a strong wind, will serve to turn the whole
region into a great, watery marsh. From the mouth of the great river,
the whole coast of Louisiana, extending north and west, is a grassy
sea, a vast expanse of marsh-grass, broken here and there by inlets of
the Mexican Gulf, and sluggish, winding bayous that lead up into the
higher lands of the State,--waterways that lead even to the back door
of the Crescent City herself, but known only to oyster-gatherers, or
in 1814 to the adventurous men who followed the banner of Lafitte the
Baratarian pirate.

Pirate he was called then; but it is doubtful whether his misdeeds
ever exceeded smuggling, or, at worst, privateering under the
protecting flag of some belligerent nation. When all nations were
warring, what was easier than for a few gallant fellows, with
swift-sailing feluccas, to lurk about the shores of the gulf, and now
under the Spanish flag, now under the French, or any colors which
suited the case, sally out and capture the richly laden Indiamen that
frequented those summer seas? And when a power known as the United
States Government, that had its quarters more than a thousand miles
from the country of the Creoles, passed an outrageous law known as the
embargo, what was more natural than that the Baratarians, knowing the
mysterious waterways that led up to the Crescent City, should utilize
their knowledge to take ships and cargoes in and out without the
formality of a custom-house examination? Such were the times that led
to the formation and growth of the "piratical" colony of Barataria.
Its leaders and rulers were John and Pierre Lafitte; one of whom lived
in New Orleans in the character of a prosperous merchant, while the
other led the expeditions which brought in merchandise to stock the
former's stores. Under the influence of the warlike state of Europe,
the trade of these worthies throve, and their settlement at Grande
Isle took on the appearance of a prosperous colony and naval station.
Storehouses and dwellings stood close to the sea. The fertile face of
the island was cut up into fruitful plantations and orange-groves.
Breastworks, well dotted with the muzzles of cannon, commanded the
approach by sea. More than once, from behind those ramparts, the
Baratarians had proved that they could fight, and that they
acknowledged the authority of no flag. The Creoles of New Orleans
looked indulgently upon the conduct of the outlaws; but the few
Americans in the city were highly incensed to see the authority of the
United States thus set aside, and vowed that when the war was over the
audacious adventurers should be crushed. However, the end came even
sooner.

On the 3d of September, a British armed brig anchored near the
buccaneers' retreat, and sent a flag of truce ashore. Lafitte, with
great dignity, received the envoys in his tent, and assured them of
his protection, though the whole village was up in arms clamoring for
the death of the intruders. The British officer then announced that he
had come to secure the aid of Lafitte and his followers in the
campaign against New Orleans. He offered the pirate captain
forgiveness for all piracies committed against the British
flag,--whereat the chief smiled sardonically,--also thirty thousand
dollars in cash, a captain's commission in the British navy, and lands
for himself and his followers. It was a tempting bribe; for at that
moment Lafitte's brother lay in the _calaboza_ at New Orleans awaiting
trial for piracy, and the Americans were preparing rapidly for a
descent upon the Baratarian stronghold. But, little as he liked the
American flag, Lafitte liked the British still less: so, asking the
Englishman to wait a few days for his answer, he sent a report of the
occurrence to the New Orleans authorities, and offered to co-operate
with the Americans, if he could be assured of pardon for all offences
committed against the government. This document caused some hesitation
at New Orleans; but the military authorities determined to refuse the
offer, and break up the outlaws' nest. Accordingly, a few days later,
the war schooner "Carolina," six gunboats, a tender, and a launch,
dropped down the Mississippi, and, rounding into the deep blue waters
of the gulf, headed for Barataria. Lafitte had too many friends in New
Orleans not to know of the force thus sent against him; and, when the
Americans reached Grande Terre, they found the pirates at their
batteries, and the Baratarian flotilla drawn up in order of battle.
The contest was sharp, but ended in the rout of the Baratarians. Their
village was burned, their fortifications razed; and, when the
triumphant Americans returned to New Orleans, they brought in their
train ten armed prizes and a number of prisoners, although Lafitte was
not to be found among the latter. Thereafter, the Baratarians, as an
organization, vanished from history. Lafitte was afterwards
occasionally heard of as a desperado on the more western shores of the
Mexican Gulf; and it is further noticeable, that two guns were served
by Baratarians under their old lieutenant, Dominique Yon, on that
bloody day when Packenham's forces were beaten back on the field of
Chalmette.

Early in December the movement of the British upon New Orleans took
definite shape. On the 8th of that month, the calm waters of the Gulf
of Mexico, off the Chandeleur Islands, were the scene of a grand
rendezvous of British naval and military forces. All the vessels of
Cockburn's Chesapeake fleet were there, with other men-of-war,
transports, and schooners, to the number of fifty vessels. At the head
was the towering two-decker "Tonnant," carrying the Admiral's flag.
Frigates, corvettes, and sloops-of-war came trooping in the rear; and
the transports bore seven thousand men for the capture of the Southern
city. The British were in high good-humor as the anchors were let fall
and the ships swung round with their heads to the tide. The voyage
across the gulf from the rendezvous at Jamaica had been like a holiday
trip. The weather had been fine, and the sea smooth; and the soft air
of that semi-tropical region was a never-ending source of delight to
sailors who had been suffering the hardships of a Northern station.

The point at which the British fleet had come to anchor lay about
fifty miles due east of New Orleans. In that day of sailing-vessels,
no enemy could breast the waters of the rolling Mississippi and crush
the resistance of the city's defenders, as did Farragut in 1862.
Knowing that they could not hope to take their ships up to the levee
of the city, the enemy determined to cast anchor near the entrance of
Lake Borgne, and send through a chain of lakes and bayous a mammoth
expedition in barges, to a point within ten miles of the city. But
this well-laid plan had been betrayed to the Americans by Lafitte; and
a little band of American sailors, under the command of Lieut. Catesby
Jones, had taken up a position at the Rigolets, and were prepared to
dispute the farther progress of the invading forces. Five gunboats,
and one hundred and eighty-five men, constituted the American force,
which for a time held the British in check. Finally, the enemy,
finding that the swift American cutters could easily evade the
lumbering war-vessels, fitted out a fleet of forty-five barges, manned
by a thousand veteran British sea-dogs, who had seen service in half
a dozen naval wars. The Americans had news of the contemplated attack,
and made skilful preparations to meet it. The gunboats were moored in
a fore and aft line, at a point near the Rigolets. Their broadsides
bore upon the enemy, and the shallowness of the water was such that by
no means could they be surrounded. The sailors were prepared for a
desperate conflict, and spent the night before the battle in tricing
up the boarding-nettings, sharpening cutlasses, and getting small-arms
in good trim. In the morning the British came on to the attack. It was
a long pull from the fleet to the place of battle: so their commander
brought his flotilla to anchor just out of range of the American guns;
and there the grim old veterans devoured their dinners, and took their
rations of grog, with appetites undisturbed by the thought of the
coming conflict. Dinner over, the enemy weighed anchor, and dashed
forward, with long, swift strokes, into the very flashes of the
Americans' cannon. The Americans knew that their one chance of victory
was to keep the overwhelming forces of their foe out of boarding
distance, and they worked their guns with a rapidity born of
desperation. Musket-bullets, grape-shot, and canister poured in a
murderous fire upon the advancing boats. But the sturdy old British
veterans knew that the best way to stop that fire was to get at the
base of it; and they pressed on undauntedly, responding vigorously,
meanwhile, with their bow guns. Soon they were up to the gunwales of
the American flotilla, and the grappling-irons were fixed; then, with
sharp blows of cutlasses, deadly play of the pikes, and a ceaseless
rattle of small-arms, they poured upon the decks of the Americans. The
boarding-nettings could not long check so furious a foe, and fell
before the fierce slash of the cutlasses. The decks once gained, the
overpowering numbers of the Englishmen crushed all further resistance;
and the flotilla was finally taken, after about one hundred of the
enemy and fifty Americans had fallen.

The American flotilla being thus shattered, there remained no further
obstacle to prevent the landing of the invading army. Of the advance
of that brilliant body of veteran troops over sands and marshes, and
through sluggish bayous and canals half-full of stagnant water, until
they emerged on the bank of the river, nine miles below New Orleans,
it is not my purpose to speak further. Nor does an account of Gen.
Jackson's vigorous measures of defence and glorious victory come
within the province of this narrative. The interesting story of
Jackson's creation of an army from leather-shirted Kentucky riflemen,
gay Creoles from the Creole Quarter of the Crescent City, swarthy
Spaniards and mulattoes, nondescript desperadoes from the old band of
Lafitte, and militia and regulars from all the Southern States, forms
no part of the naval annals of the war. It is enough to say that the
flower of the British army, led by a veteran of the Peninsula,
recoiled before that motley crew of untrained soldiers, and were
beaten back, leaving their gallant leader and thousands of their brave
men dead upon the field. The navy was not without some share in this
glorious triumph. On the 23d of December the schooner "Carolina"
dropped down from New Orleans, and opened fire upon the enemy. "Now,
then, for the honor of America, give it to them!" sung out her
commander, as the first broadside was fired. The attack, unexpected as
it was, created a panic in the British camp. A feeble reply was made
with rockets and musketry; but even this was soon discontinued, and
the enemy took refuge under the steep bank of the levee, whither the
plunging shot could not follow them. All night the "Carolina" kept up
her fire; and, when at daybreak she moved away, she left the camp of
the enemy in confusion. During the day she renewed the attack, and
persisted in her fire until the British threw up a heavy battery on
the river's bank, and replied. The lads of the "Carolina" promptly
accepted the challenge thus offered, and for a time a spirited combat
was maintained. But the battery threw red-hot shot, and the schooner
was soon set on fire and destroyed. Meanwhile the corvette "Louisiana"
had come down to the scene of action, and in the subsequent
engagements did some effective work. When the final onslaught of the
British was made, on Jan. 7, 1815, the guns of the "Louisiana" were
mounted on the opposite bank of the river, and the practised sailors
worked them with deadly effect, until the flight of the American
militia on that side exposed the battery to certain capture. The
sailors then spiked their guns, and marched off unmolested. The
sailors of the "Carolina," on that day of desperate fighting, were in
the centre of Jackson's line, between the Creoles and the swarthy
Baratarians under Dominique Yon. Here they worked their howitzers, and
watched the scarlet lines of the enemy advance and melt away before
that deadly blaze; advance and fall back again in hopeless rout. And
among the many classes of fighting men whom Jackson had rallied before
that British line, none did battle more valiantly for the honor of
the nation and the safety of the flowery city of New Orleans than did
those blue-jackets ashore.

It is a fitting commentary upon the folly of war, that the battle of
New Orleans was fought after the two warring nations had signed a
treaty of peace. The lives of some hundreds of brave Englishmen and
Americans were needlessly sacrificed in a cause already decided. Far
across the Atlantic Ocean, in the quaint old Dutch city of Ghent,
representatives of England and the United States met, and, after some
debate, signed the treaty on the 24th of December, 1814. But there was
then no Atlantic cable, no "ocean greyhounds" to annihilate space and
time; and it was months before the news of the treaty reached the
scene of war. In the mean time, the hostilities were continued by land
and sea.

The year 1815 found the American navy largely increased by new
vessels, though the vigilance of the British blockaders kept most of
these close in port. The "Constitution" was at sea, having run the
blockade at Boston. In New York Harbor were the "President,"
"Peacock," "Hornet," and "Tom Bowline," awaiting a chance to slip out
for a cruise to the East Indies. It was decided that the vessels
should run out singly, and the "President" was selected to make the
first attempt. The night of the 14th of January was dark and foggy,
and the blockading fleet was nowhere to be seen. Then, if ever, was
the time for escape; and the Yankee tars weighed anchor and started
out through the Narrows. In the impenetrable darkness of the night,
baffled by head-winds and perplexing currents, the pilots lost their
reckoning, and the orders to the man at the wheel were quick and
nervous, until an ominous grating of the ship's keel, followed by the
loss of headway, told that the frigate was aground. For a time the
ship lay helpless, straining all her timbers as each wave lifted her
slightly, and then let the heavy hull fall back upon the shoal. By ten
o'clock the rising tide floated her off; but, on examination, Capt.
Decatur found that she was seriously injured. To return to port was
impossible with the wind then blowing: so all sail was crowded on, in
the hopes of getting safely away before the blockading squadron should
catch sight of the ship. As luck would have it, the blockaders had
been forced from their posts by the gale of the day before, and the
"President" had laid her course so as to infallibly fall into their
clutches. Before daylight the lookout reported two sail in sight, and
at daybreak the ship was fairly surrounded by the enemy's vessels. All
at once gave chase to the luckless American; and a few hours were
enough to show that her sailing qualities were so seriously injured by
her pounding on the bar, that the enemy was rapidly overhauling her.
Decatur adopted every known expedient to increase his ship's speed,
but to no avail. After she had been lightened by starting the water,
cutting away boats and anchors, chopping up and heaving overboard the
ponderous cables, together with spars and provisions, the enemy still
gained; and the foremost pursuer, a razee, opened fire. The
"President" responded with her stern-chasers, but her shot had no
effect. "It is said that on this occasion," writes Cooper, "the shot
of the American ship were observed to be thrown with a momentum so
unusually small, as to have since excited much distrust of the quality
of her gunpowder. It is even added, that many of these shot were
distinctly seen, when clear of the smoke, until they struck." At six
o'clock in the evening, the frigate "Endymion" led the British
squadron in chase, and had gained a position so close upon the
American's beam that her broadsides were rapidly crippling the
fugitive. Thereupon Decatur determined upon a desperate expedient,
that sounds like some of his reckless exploits in the war with
Tripoli. His plan was to bring the "President" about, and run boldly
alongside the enemy. Every thing was to be sacrificed to the end of
getting to close quarters. When once the two ships had grappled, the
Americans were to board, carry the British ship in a hand-to-hand
battle, and then, abandoning the crippled "President," escape in the
captured frigate. So desperate a plan needed the cordial co-operation
of every man: so it was first presented to the commissioned officers,
who gladly embraced the desperate project. The sailors were then sent
aft, and Decatur addressed them from the quarter-deck.

"My lads," said he, "that ship is coming up with us. As our ship won't
sail, we'll go on board of theirs, every man and boy of us, and carry
her into New York. All I ask of you is to follow me. This is a
favorite ship of the country. If we allow her to be taken, we shall be
deserted by our wives and sweethearts. What, let such a ship as this
go for nothing! 'Twould break the heart of every pretty girl in New
York."

[Illustration: "President" and "Endymion."]

With hearty cheers, the jackies returned to their guns. All were ready
for the coming struggle. Over the main hatch was mounted a howitzer,
with its black muzzle peering down into the hold, ready to scuttle the
ship when the boarders should spring upon the enemy's deck. The sun,
by this time, had sunk below the horizon, and the darkness of night
was gathering over the ocean. The two ships surged toward each
other,--great black masses, lighted up on either side by rows of open
ports, through which gleamed the uncertain light of the
battle-lanterns. On the gun-deck the men stood stern and silent; their
thoughts fixed upon the coming battle, or perhaps wandering back to
the green fields and pleasant homes they had so recently left, perhaps
forever. The gray old yeoman of the frigate, with his mates, walked
from gun to gun, silently placing a well-sharpened cutlass, a dirk,
and a heavy leather boarding-cap at each man's side. The marines were
drawn up in a line amidships; their erect, soldierly air and rigid
alignment contrasting with the careless slouchiness of the sailors.
Butts for the sailors' ridicule as they were during a cruise, the
marines knew that, in hand-to-hand conflicts, their part was as
dashing as that of their tormentors of the forecastle.

When the "President" had come within a quarter of a mile of her
adversary, Decatur perceived that his enemy was determined to decide
the contest at long range. As the "President" hauled down nearer, the
"Endymion" sheered off, keeping up meanwhile a vigorous cannonade. To
this the Americans responded in kind; and so much superior was the
gunnery of the Yankee tars, that the rigging of the enemy was seen to
be fast going to pieces, while her guns were being silenced one by
one. But her fire did sad havoc among the men of the "President," and
particularly among the officers. The first broadside carried away
Decatur's first lieutenant, Mr. Babbitt, who was struck by a
thirty-two-pound shot, which cut off his right leg below the knee, and
hurled him through the wardroom hatch to the deck below, fracturing
his wounded leg in two places. Shortly after, Decatur was knocked to
the deck by a heavy splinter. For some time he lay unconscious; then
opening his eyes, and seeing a throng of anxious seamen about him, he
ordered them to their stations, and resumed his duties. The fire of
the "Endymion" then slackened; and she lay upon the water, with her
sails cut from the yards. At that moment Lieut. Howell turned to a
midshipman standing at his side, and said gayly, "Well, we have
whipped that ship, at any rate." A flash from the bow of the
Englishman followed; and he added, "No: there she is again." The
midshipman turned to reply, and saw Howell stretched dead at his feet,
killed by the last shot of the battle.

[Illustration: The "President" tries to escape.]

The enemy was now helpless, and it would have been easy enough for the
"President" to choose her position and compel her adversary to strike;
but the presence of two more Englishmen, rapidly coming up astern,
forced the Americans to abandon their prey and continue their flight.
It was then late in the evening, and the night was dark and starless.
Every light was extinguished on the American frigate, in the hope that
by so doing she might slip away under cover of the night. But the
British lookouts were sharp-eyed; and by eleven o'clock two frigates
had closed in on the crippled ship, and a third was rapidly coming up
astern. All were pouring in rapid broadsides, and the dark waters were
lighted up like a fiery sea by the ceaseless flashing of the guns.
Thus surrounded and overpowered, there remained open to the Americans
no course but to surrender; and at eleven o'clock at night the
"President" made signal that she had struck. Her fate, like that of
the "Chesapeake," had accorded with the superstitious sailors' notion
that she was an unlucky ship. In the long running fight, neither the
Americans nor the British had escaped without severe loss. On the
"President" were twenty-four killed and fifty-six wounded; the first,
second, and third lieutenants being among the slain. The "Endymion"
had eleven men killed and fourteen wounded. The two frigates were
ordered to proceed to Bermuda; but the "President's" bad luck seemed
to follow her, for on the way she encountered a terrific gale, by
which her masts were carried away, and her timbers so strained that
all the upper-deck guns had to be thrown overboard to save the ship.

The loss of the "President," at the very mouth of the New York Harbor,
was certainly a most inauspicious opening for the naval operations of
1815. The people of New York and Philadelphia, to whom had come
neither the news of peace nor of the glorious success of the American
arms at New Orleans, were plunged into despondency. "Now that Great
Britain is at peace with Europe," thought they, "she can exert all her
power in the task of subjugating America;" and mournful visions of a
return to British rule darkened their horizon. But, even while they
were thus saddened by Decatur's defeat, a gallant vessel--the monarch
of the American navy--was fighting a good fight for the honor of the
nation; and out of that fight she came with colors flying and two
captive men-of-war following in her wake.

It will be remembered that the "Constitution" left Boston in December,
1814, for an extended cruise. The gallant frigate, always a favorite
among man-o'-war's men, carried with her on this cruise a full crew of
native Americans,--thorough seamen, and as plucky fighters as ever
pulled a lanyard or carried a cutlass. Her course lay due east; and in
January, 1815, she was in the Bay of Biscay, where she fell in with,
and captured, two prizes. After this she cruised about for a month,
without encountering an enemy. American privateers and cruisers had
fairly driven British merchantmen from the seas, and the tars of the
"Constitution" found their time hanging heavily on their hands. The
captain was an able and considerate officer, and much freedom was
allowed the jackies in their amusements. With boxing, broadsword, and
single-stick play, drill and skylarking, the hours of daylight were
whiled away; and by night the men off duty would gather about the
forecastle lantern to play with greasy, well-thumbed cards, or warble
tender ditties to black-eyed Susans far across the Atlantic.
Patriotic melodies formed no small part of Jack's musical
_repertoire_. Of these, this one, written by a landsman, was for a
long time popular among the tuneful souls of the forecastle, and was
not altogether unknown in the wardroom.

  "Now coil up y'r nonsense 'bout England's great navy,
    And take in y'r slack about oak-hearted tars;
  For frigates as stout, and as gallant crews have we,
    Or how came their "Macedon" decked with our stars?
  Yes, how came her "Guerriere," her "Peacock," and "Java,"
    All sent broken-ribbed to old Davy of late?
  How came it? Why, split me, than Britons we're braver;
    And that they shall feel, too, whenever we meet.
              Then charge the can cheerily,
              Send it round merrily:
  Here's to our country, and captains commanding;
              To all who inherit
              Of Lawrence the spirit
  Disdaining to strike while a stick is left standing."

Many were the verses of this notable production; for, to be popular in
the forecastle, a song must play a lengthy part in "teasing time." One
verse, however, is enough to show the manly, if perhaps unreasoning,
pride the blue-jackets took in the triumphs of the navy.

But the time of the sailors on this closing cruise of the war was not
destined to be spent in sport and singing alone. The noble frigate was
not to return to the stagnation of a season of peace in port, without
adding yet another honor to her already honorable record. On the
morning of the 20th of February, as the ship was running aimlessly
before a light wind, some inexplicable impulse led Capt. Stewart to
suddenly alter his course and run off some sixty miles to the
south-west. Again the "Constitution's" good luck seemed to justify the
sailors' belief, for at noon she ran into a group of vessels. The
first vessel was sighted on the larboard bow, and, as the frigate
overhauled her, proved to be a full-rigged ship. Soon after a second
sail, also a ship, was sighted; and a few minutes more sufficed to
show that both were men-of-war. The one first sighted was the
frigate-built corvette "Cyane," of thirty-four guns; and the second
was the sloop-of-war "Levant," of twenty-one guns. For either of
these vessels singly, the "Constitution," with her fifty-two guns and
crew of four hundred and fifty men, was more than a match. Yet to
attack the two was a bold movement, and this Stewart determined to
undertake. Hardly had the character of the strangers been made out,
when the corvette was seen making signals to the sloop; and the two
vessels, then about ten miles apart, made all sail to get together
before the enemy should overhaul them. This juncture was precisely
what Stewart wished to prevent; and in a trice the shrill notes of the
boatswain's whistle sent the sailors in swarms into the rigging, and
the frigate was as if by magic clothed with a broad expanse of canvas.
Quickly she felt the effect, and bounded through the water after the
distant ships like a dolphin chasing a school of flying-fish. The old
tars on the forecastle looked knowingly over the side at the foamy
water rushing past, and then cast approving glances aloft where every
sail was drawing. But their complacency was shattered by a loud crash
aloft, which proved to be the main royal-mast which had given way
under the strain. Another spar was rigged speedily, and shipped by the
active tars, and soon the snowy clouds aloft showed no signs of the
wreck. At sundown the three vessels were so near each other that their
colors could be seen. Stewart ran up the stars and stripes, to which
the strangers responded by setting the British flag at their
mastheads.

The purpose of the enemy was to delay the opening of the action until
night should give him opportunity to manoeuvre unobserved; but the
"Constitution," suspecting this, pressed forward hotly, and opened
fire a few minutes after six o'clock. By skilful seamanship Stewart
kept the windward gage of both enemies; and the fight opened with the
"Cyane" on the port-quarter, and the "Levant" on the port-bow of the
American frigate. Fifteen minutes of fierce cannonading followed, the
combatants being within musket-shot most of the time. Every gun was
engaged; and the heavy broadsides shook the ships, and thundered far
over the placid surface of the ocean, which was now faintly illumined
by the rising moon. The triangular space between the ships was filled
with the dense sulphurous smoke of the burning powder; so that the
gunners could see nothing of the enemy at whom they were hurling their
ponderous iron bolts. The men in the tops could now and again catch a
glimpse of the top hamper of the enemy's ships, but those on the
gun-deck were working almost at random. After a few minutes of rapid
firing, the fire of the enemy slackened; and Stewart directed his
gunners to cease until the smoke should have cleared away. At this
command a silence, almost oppressive after the heavy cannonading,
ensued, broken only by the occasional report of a gun from the unseen
enemy, sounding like minute-guns of distress. Anxiously Stewart waited
for the smoke to blow away. When it did so, the "Cyane" was seen
luffing up, to come under the frigate's stern, and get in a raking
broadside. The movement was discovered just in time to be checked.
Stewart gave a heavy broadside to the "Levant;" then, bracing back his
topsails, backed his ship down abreast of the "Cyane," pouring in
rapid broadsides, before which the fire of the corvette died away. Two
raking broadsides that crashed into the stern of the "Levant" sent
that craft out of the action, to refit. The frigate then pressed down
upon the "Cyane," and with a few heavy broadsides forced her to
strike.

Capt. Douglass of the "Levant" then proved his bravery by standing by
his captured consort; although he could have escaped easily, while the
"Constitution" was taking possession of her prize. No thought of
flight seems to have occurred to the gallant Briton, though he must
have known that there was but little hope of his coming out of the
combat victorious. Still he gallantly came back into the fight,
meeting the "Constitution" ploughing along on the opposite tack.
Broadsides were exchanged at such close range that the Yankee gunners
could hear the ripping of the planks on the enemy's decks as the solid
shot crashed through beam and stanchion. Having passed each other, the
ships wore, and returned to the attack; but the weight of the
American's metal told so severely upon the "Levant" that her flag was
hauled down, and, firing a gun to leeward, she gave up the fight.

As an exhibition of seamanship, this action is unrivalled in naval
annals. For Stewart to have taken his ship into action with two
hostile vessels, and so handle her as not only to escape being raked,
but actually rake his enemies, was a triumph of nautical skill. The
action was hard fought by both parties. The loss upon the British
vessels has never been exactly determined; but it was undoubtedly
large, for the hulls were badly cut up by the American's fire. The
"Constitution" had but three men killed, and twelve wounded. The
officers all escaped unhurt.

After a few hours' pause to repair damages, Stewart took his prizes
into Porto Praya in the Cape Verde Islands, where they arrived on the
10th of March. The day after the ships reached port, a heavy fog
settled over the water, cutting off vision in all directions. As the
first lieutenant of the "Constitution" was walking the quarter-deck,
he heard a young midshipman among the prisoners suddenly exclaim,
"There's a large ship in the offing." The lieutenant peered about on
every side, but could see nothing, until, looking upward, he saw the
top-gallant sails of a large ship moving along above the fog-bank.
Capt. Stewart was quickly notified; and, coolly remarking that the
stranger was probably a British frigate, he ordered that the men be
sent to quarters, and the ship prepared for action. The lieutenant
hastened on deck to execute the orders, but had hardly reached his
station when he saw the sails of two more ships gliding along above
the fog-bank. Hastily he returned to the captain's cabin with the
report. Stewart showed no emotion or alarm, although he knew well that
the fact that he was in a neutral port would be no protection against
the British, should they once discover his presence. The affair of the
"Essex" was still fresh in his mind. Calmly he ordered the lieutenant
to make sail and take the ship to sea, signalling to the two prizes to
follow. The orders were given quietly on deck; and in fifteen minutes
the "Constitution," under full press of sail, was making her way out
of Porto Praya roads. On the shore were more than a hundred prisoners
whom Stewart had landed under parole. Regardless of the dictates of
honor, these men rushed to a Portuguese battery, and opened fire on
the ships as they passed out. Hearing the cannonade, the lookouts on
the enemy's vessels looked eagerly for its cause, and caught sight,
above the fog, of the rapidly receding topsails of the fugitives. At
this sight the British set out in pursuit; and the fog soon clearing
away revealed to the Americans two ships-of-the-line and a frigate
following fast in their wake. The "Constitution" and the "Cyane"
easily kept out of reach of their pursuers; but the "Levant" dropped
behind, and finally, at a signal from Stewart, tacked, and stood back
for Porto Praya. The enemy then abandoned the pursuit of the two
foremost vessels, and followed the "Levant," but failed to overhaul
her before she entered the harbor. This, however, checked the British
not a whit. For the laws of nations and the authority of the
Portuguese flag that floated over the little town, they cared nothing.
On they came, and opened fire on the "Levant," which had dropped
anchor under what was supposed to be a neutral battery. The Americans
soon discovered their error. Not only did the British disregard the
neutrality of the port, but the paroled prisoners on shore took
possession of the battery, and opened fire upon the beleaguered craft.
Thus caught between two fires, no hope remained to the Americans; and,
after a few minutes' gallant but useless defence, the flag of the
"Levant" was hauled down, and she passed again into the hands of the
British.

It was late in May before the "Constitution" reached New York. Peace
had then been declared; but none the less were Stewart and his men
feasted and honored. The old frigate had won for herself a name ever
to be remembered by the people of the nation, in whose service she had
received and dealt so many hard knocks. "Old Ironsides," they called
her; and even to-day, when a later war has given to the navy vessels
whose sides are literally iron, the "Constitution" still holds her
place in the hearts of the American people, who think of her lovingly
by the well-won title of "Old Ironsides."

While we have been following thus Stewart and his gallant frigate in
their final cruise, some smaller vessels were doing good work for the
credit of the American flag. It will be remembered, that, when the
"President" left New York Bay on her short and disastrous cruise of
January, 1815, she left behind her, at anchor, the "Peacock," the
"Hornet," and the "Tom Bowline." These vessels, knowing nothing of the
fate of their former consort, awaited only the coming of a gale
sufficient to drive away the blockading squadron. On the 22d of
January it came up to blow; and the three craft, under storm canvas,
scudded over the bar, and made for the rendezvous at Tristan d'Acunha.
On the way thither they separated, the "Hornet" cruising alone. On the
23d she sighted a strange sail on the horizon, and, clapping on all
sail, bore down upon her. At the same time the stranger sighted the
"Hornet," and made for her, evidently with hostile intent. The two
vessels approached each other until within musket-shot, when the
stranger hoisted English colors, and fired a gun. Capt. Biddle of the
American ship was ready for the fray, and opened fire with a
broadside. The response of the enemy was vigorous and effective. For
fifteen minutes the firing was constant; but the enemy, seeing that
the Americans were getting the better of the fight, then strove to
close and board. This Biddle determined to avoid, but called up the
boarders to beat back the enemy, should they succeed in closing. "At
the instant," he writes, in his official report, "every officer and
man repaired to the quarter-deck, when the two vessels were coming in
contact, and eagerly pressed me to permit them to board the enemy; but
this I would not permit, as it was evident, from the commencement of
the action, that our fire was greatly superior, both in quickness and
effect. The enemy's bowsprit came between our main and mizzen rigging,
on our starboard side, affording him an opportunity to board us, if
such was his design; but no attempt was made. There was a considerable
swell on; and, as the sea lifted us ahead, the enemy's bowsprit
carried away our mizzen-shrouds, stern davits, and spanker-boom, and
he hung upon our larboard quarter. At this moment an officer called
out that they had surrendered. I directed the marines and musketry men
to cease firing; and while on the taffrail, asking if they had
surrendered, I received a wound in the neck."

This wound, to which the captain so casually alludes, merits more than
a passing reference. The fire of both ships had ceased when Biddle
stepped upon the taffrail; but he had stood there only a moment, when
two or three of the officers on the quarter-deck cried out that a man
on the Englishman was aiming at him. Biddle did not hear the caution;
but two American marines saw the enemy's movement, and, quickly
bringing up their muskets, sent two balls crashing into the brain of
the English marksman. He fell back dead, but had fired his piece
before falling. The bullet struck Biddle in the neck, inflicting a
painful, but not serious, wound. The blood flowed freely, however; and
two sailors, rushing up, were about to carry their commander to the
cock-pit, when he stopped them. Determined to do something to stanch
the flowing blood, a sailor tore his shirt into bandages, with which
he bound up his captain's wound. But let us return to Biddle's
narrative.

"The enemy just then got clear of us; and his foremast and bowsprit
being both gone, and perceiving us wearing to give him a fresh
broadside, he again called out that he had surrendered. It was with
difficulty that I could restrain my crew from firing into him again,
as he had certainly fired into us after having surrendered. From the
firing of the first gun, to the last time the enemy cried out that he
had surrendered, was exactly twenty-two minutes by the watch. She
proved to be His Britannic Majesty's brig "Penguin," mounting sixteen
thirty-two-pound carronades, two long twelves, a twelve-pound
carronade on the top-gallant forecastle, with a swivel on the capstan
in the tops."

On boarding the prize, Biddle found that she had suffered too severely
from the American fire to ever be of service again. He accordingly
removed the prisoners and wounded to his own ship, and scuttled the
"Penguin." Hardly was this operation accomplished, when two sail were
sighted, bearing rapidly down upon the scene of action. Nothing
daunted, the lads of the "Hornet" went to their guns, but were
heartily glad to find that the two vessels approaching were the
"Peacock" and "Tom Bowline." On their arrival, the latter vessel was
converted into a cartel, and sent into Rio de Janeiro with prisoners;
while the "Hornet" and "Peacock" cruised on toward the Indian Seas. On
April 28 a heavy line-of-battle ship was sighted, and gave chase. In
the flight the two sloops parted; the "Peacock" going off unmolested,
while the "Hornet" fled, hotly pursued by the enemy. For a time it
seemed as if the little craft must fall a prey to her huge pursuer,
which had come up within a mile, and was firing great shot at the
scudding sloop-of-war. Overboard went cables, guns, spars, shot, every
thing that would lighten the "Hornet." The sails were wet down, and
every thing that would draw was set. By consummate skill Biddle at
last succeeded in evading his pursuer; and on the 9th of June the
"Hornet" entered New York Bay, without a boat or anchor, and with but
one gun left. But she brought the report that the last naval battle of
the war had ended in victory for the Americans.

[Illustration: Foundered at Sea.]

Meanwhile the "Peacock" was returning from a cruise not altogether
void of interest. On parting with the "Hornet," she had struck off to
the southward, and in the Straits of Sundra, between Borneo and
Sumatra, had fallen in with the East India Company's cruiser
"Nautilus," of fourteen guns. Between these two vessels an unfortunate
and silly rencounter followed. The captain of the "Nautilus" knew of
the declaration of peace; and, as the "Peacock" bore down upon his
vessel, he shouted through a speaking-trumpet that peace had been
declared. To this Capt. Warrington of the "Peacock" paid no attention,
considering it a mere ruse on the part of the enemy, and responded by
simply ordering the British to haul down their flag. This the
Englishman very properly refused to do, and gallantly prepared for the
unequal combat. Two broadsides were then interchanged, by which the
"Nautilus" was severely cut up, and eight of her crew killed. She then
struck her colors. Capt. Warrington, on sending a boat aboard his
adversary, found that the declaration of peace was no ruse, but a
truthful statement of facts. His conduct had been almost criminally
headstrong; and, though he was profuse in formal apologies, the wrong
done could never be righted. The "Peacock" then continued her homeward
voyage.

When this vessel reached port, the last of the cruisers had returned;
and the war was over in fact, as it had long been over technically. It
has become the fashion to say that it was a useless war, that served
no purpose, because the treaty by which it was ended contained no
reference to the hateful doctrine of the right of search, which, more
than any thing else, had brought on the conflict. Yet, though the
conduct of the war had not led the British to formally renounce their
claims in this respect, the exploits of the American navy had shown
that the Yankee blue-jackets were prepared to, and would, forcibly
resent any attempt on the part of the British to put those claims into
practice. The British had entered upon the war gaily, never dreaming
that the puny American navy would offer any serious resistance to
Great Britain's domination upon the ocean. Yet now, looking back over
the three years of the war, they saw an array of naval battles, in the
majority of which the Americans had been victorious; and in all of
which the brilliancy of American naval tactics, the skill of the
officers, and the courage and discipline of the crews, put the younger
combatants on a plane with the older and more famous naval service.
Fenimore Cooper, in his "History of the Navy of the United States,"
thus sums up the results of this naval war: "The navy came out of this
struggle with a vast increase of reputation. The brilliant style in
which the ships had been carried into action, the steadiness and
accuracy with which they had been handled, and the fatal accuracy of
their fire on nearly every occasion had produced a new era in naval
warfare. Most of the frigate actions had been as soon decided as
circumstances would at all allow; and in no instance was it found
necessary to keep up the fire of a sloop-of-war an hour, when singly
engaged. Most of the combats of the latter, indeed, were decided in
about half that time. The execution done in these short conflicts was
often equal to that made by the largest vessels of Europe in general
actions; and, in some of them, the slain and wounded comprised a very
large proportion of their crews.... The ablest and bravest captains of
the English fleet were ready to admit that a new power was about to
appear upon the ocean, and that it was not improbable the battle for
the mastery of the seas would have to be fought over again."




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.


No narrative of the naval exploits of the Americans in the second war
with Great Britain can be complete without some account of the
achievements of the fleets of privateers which for three years swept
the seas, destroying a vast amount of the enemy's property; and, while
accomplishing their end by enriching their owners, did, nevertheless,
much incidental good to the American cause. Seldom has the business of
privateering been so extensively carried on as in the War of 1812. For
this the reason lay in the rich bait offered by the world-wide
commerce of Great Britain, whose fleets whitened every known sea.
Privateering must ever be a weapon wielded by the weaker nation
against the stronger. And Congress, in the very Act by which it
declared war, authorized the President to issue letters of marque and
reprisal to private armed vessels.

The declaration of war had hardly been made public, when the hundreds
of shipyards from Maine to Savannah resounded with the blows of
hammers and the grating of saws, as the shipwrights worked, busily
refitting old vessels, or building new ones, destined to cruise
against the commerce of John Bull. All sorts of vessels were employed
in this service. The Atlantic and Gulf Coasts fairly swarmed with
small pilot-boats, mounting one long gun amidships, and carrying crews
of twenty to forty men. These little craft made rapid sallies into the
waters of the Gulf Stream, in search of British West Indiamen homeward
bound. Other privateers were huge three-masters, carrying heavy
batteries, and able to outsail any of the enemy's ships. On leaving
port for a long cruise, these vessels would carry enormous crews, so
that captured vessels might be manned and sent home. After a
successful cruise, such a privateer returned to port seldom bringing
more than one-fifth of the crew with which she had set out. But the
favorite rig for a privateer was that of the top-sail schooner,--such
a rig as the "Enterprise" carried during the war with France. The
famous shipyards of Baltimore turned out scores of clean-cut,
clipper-built schooners, with long, low hulls and raking masts, which
straightway took to the ocean on privateering cruises. The armament of
these vessels generally consisted of six to ten carronades and one
long pivot-gun, going by the pet name of "Long Tom," mounted
amidships. The crew was usually a choice assortment of cut-throats and
seafaring vagabonds of all classes,--ready enough to fight if plunder
was to be gained, but equally ready to surrender if only honor was to
be gained by fighting. Yet history records a few actions in which the
privateersmen showed a steadiness and courage worthy of seamen of the
regular service.

The limitations of this work do not permit a complete account of the
work of the privateers during the war. Although an interesting
subject, and one of historical importance, but a few pages can be
devoted to it here. Properly treated, it would fill a volume; and,
indeed, one of the most noted privateersmen has left a narrative of
the exploits of the principal privateers, which forms a very
considerable tome. The fact that two hundred and fifty private armed
cruisers under the American flag captured or destroyed over sixteen
hundred British vessels will indicate the importance and extent of the
subject. For us a mere sketch of the exploits of some of the principal
privateers must suffice.

One of the first things to attract the attention of the reader, in the
dingy files of some newspaper of 1812-15, is the grotesque names under
which many of the privateers sailed. The grandiloquent style of the
regular navy vanishes, and in its place we find homely names; such as
"Jack's Favorite," "Lovely Lass," "Row-boat," "Saucy Jack," or
"True-blooded Yankee." Some names are clearly political allusions,--as
the "Orders in Council" and the "Fair Trade." The "Black Joke," the
"Shark," and the "Anaconda" must have had a grim significance for the
luckless merchantmen who fell a prey to the vessels bearing these
names. "Bunker Hill" and "Divided we fall," though odd names to sail
under, seemed to bring luck to the two vessels, which were very
successful in their cruises. "United we stand" was a luckless craft,
however, taking only one prize; while the achievements of the
"Full-blooded Yankee" and the "Sine qua non" were equally limited. Of
the "Poor Sailor," certainly little was to be expected; and it is with
no surprise that we find she captured only one prize.

Among the most successful privateers was the "Rossie" of Baltimore,
commanded by the Revolutionary veteran Capt. Barney, who left her,
finally, to assume command of the American naval forces on Chesapeake
Bay. She was a clipper-built schooner, carrying fourteen guns, and a
crew of one hundred and twenty men. The destruction wrought by this
one cruiser was enormous. In a ninety days' cruise she captured, sunk,
or otherwise destroyed British property to the amount of a million and
a half dollars, and took two hundred and seventeen prisoners. All this
was not done without some hard fighting. One prize--His Britannic
Majesty's packet-ship "Princess Amelia"--was armed with nine-pounders,
and made a gallant defence before surrendering. Several men were
killed, and the "Rossie" suffered the loss of her first lieutenant.
The prisoners taken by the "Rossie" were exchanged for Americans
captured by the British. With the first body of prisoners thus
exchanged, Barney sent a cool note to the British commander at New
Brunswick, assuring him that before long a second batch of his
captured countrymen should be sent in.

Several Northern seaports shared with Baltimore the business of
fitting out and manning privateers. The hardy seamen of Maine and
Massachusetts were ever ready for a profitable venture of this kind;
and, as the continuation of the war caused the whale-fishery to
languish, the sailors gladly took up the adventurous life of
privateersmen. The profits of a successful cruise were enormous; and
for days after the home-coming of a lucky privateer the little seaport
into which she came rang with the boisterous shouts of the carousing
sailors. "We still, in imagination, see our streets filled with
privateersmen," writes a historian of Portsmouth, "in groups, with
blue ribbons tied around their hats, inscribed in large letters,
'SUCCESS TO THE "FOX,"' or whatever vessel they were to sail in. And
then another scene, of sailors paid off with so much money that they
knew not what to do with it. It was one of these men that, in Market
Square, put his arm around a cow, kissed her, and put a five-dollar
bill in her mouth, for a good cud. Sometimes they might be seen,
finely dressed, walking down the sunny streets, carrying parasols."
One Portsmouth privateer came to grief in the West Indies, and was
captured by a British vessel of heavier metal. In the hold of the
privateer was a considerable sum of money in gold coin, the existence
of which was known only to the captain and his body-servant, a bright
negro. The British, on capturing the vessel, put a prize-crew on
board, and, while taking the Yankee captain upon their own ship, left
his negro servant on the prize. Watching his opportunity, the negro
brought up the gold coin, and dropped it unobserved into a tub of
greasy black slush with which he had been slushing down the masts.
Some days later, the captured vessel reached the port to which she had
been sent, and was tied up at a wharf to await condemnation. The
faithful servant lingered about the ship for a time, saying that he
had no place to go. At last he was gruffly ordered to leave; but,
before going, he astonished the mate by begging for the tub of slush,
which he said might enable him to earn a few cents along the docks.
The mate carelessly told him to take the stuff, and be off; which he
promptly did, carrying away with him his tub of slush, with its
concealed treasure. It is worthy of note, that this negro, far from
home and from the owners of the money, paid it into a bank to the
credit of the captain whom he had served.

Salem, Mass., was another great port for privateers to hail from. Not
less than twenty-five of these predatory gentry fitted out at the
quiet little seaside village; and, when the war was ended, few of the
inhabitants were unable to tell some tale of personal adventures,
cruising against the enemy. Indeed, Salem had the honor of receiving
the first prize captured on the ocean after the declaration of war;
for into the harbor came, on the 10th of June, 1812, the trim
privateer schooner "Fame," followed close by two ships, from the
halliards of which waved the British flag surmounted by the stars and
stripes. Then the whole town turned out as one man to greet and cheer
the captors; but, long before the war was ended, the appearance of a
prize in the harbor aroused little excitement. One of the most
successful of the rovers sailing from this port was the "Dolphin,"
whose record during the war shows a list of twenty-two captured
vessels. Her faculty for making long cruises, and turning up in the
most unexpected places, made her the dread of all British
sea-captains. She was manned by a gallant set of lads, who had no fear
of hard fighting; and many of her prizes were won at the cannon's
mouth. In January, 1813, the "Dolphin" fell in with a British ship and
brig cruising together off Cape St. Vincent. Though the enemy
outnumbered the privateersmen, and carried heavier metal, yet the
"Dolphin" went gallantly into the fight, and after a severe battle
succeeded in taking both vessels. Great was the astonishment of the
British at being thus snapped up by a Yankee privateer almost under
the guns of the Rock of Gibraltar. The luckless Britons were carried
to America as prisoners; but so kind was the treatment they met with
at the hands of the privateers, that on leaving the "Dolphin," at
Boston, they published a card in which they said, "Should the fortune
of war ever throw Capt. Stafford or any of his crew into the hands of
the British, it is sincerely hoped he will meet with similar
treatment."

Perhaps the foremost of all the fighting privateers was the "Gen.
Armstrong" of New York; a schooner mounting eight long nines and one
long twenty-four on a pivot. She had a crew of ninety men, and was
commanded on her first cruise by Capt. Guy R. Champlin. This vessel
was one of the first to get to sea, and had cruised for several months
with fair success, when in March, 1813, she gave chase to a sail off
the Surinam River on the coast of South America. The stranger seemed
to evince no great desire to escape; and the privateer soon gained
sufficiently to discover that the supposed merchantman was a British
sloop-of-war, whose long row of open ports showed that she carried
twenty-seven guns. Champlin and his men found this a more ugly
customer than they had expected; but it was too late to retreat, and
to surrender was out of the question: so, calling the people to the
guns, Champlin took his ship into action with a steadiness that no old
naval captain could have exceeded. "Close quarters and quick work,"
was the word passed along the gun-deck; and the "Armstrong" was
brought alongside her antagonist at a distant of half pistol-shot. For
nearly an hour the two vessels exchanged rapid broadsides; but, though
the American gunners were the better marksmen, the heavy build of the
sloop-of-war enabled her to stand against broadsides which would have
cut the privateer to pieces. Capt. Champlin was hit in the shoulder
early in the action, but kept his station until the fever of his wound
forced him to retire to his cabin. However, he still continued to
direct the course of the action; and, seeing that the tide of battle
was surely going against him, he ordered the crew to get out the
sweeps and pull away from the enemy, whose rigging was too badly cut
up to enable her to give chase. This was quickly done; and the "Gen.
Armstrong," though badly injured, and with her decks covered with dead
and dying men, escaped, leaving her more powerful adversary to repair
damages and make the best of her way home. Capt. Champlin, on his
arrival at New York, was the hero of the hour. For a privateer to have
held out for an hour against a man-of-war, was thought a feat worthy
of praise from all classes of men. The merchants of the city tendered
the gallant captain a dinner, and the stockholders in his vessel
presented him with a costly sword.

But the "Gen. Armstrong" was destined to fight yet another battle,
which should far eclipse the glory of her first. A new captain was to
win the laurels this time; for Capt. Champlin's wound had forced him
to retire, and his place was filled by Capt. Samuel C. Reid. On the
26th of September, 1814, the privateer was lying at anchor in the
roadstead of Fayal. Over the land that enclosed the snug harbor on
three sides, waved the flag of Portugal, a neutral power, but
unfortunately one of insufficient strength to enforce the rights of
neutrality. While the "Armstrong" was thus lying in the port, a
British squadron, composed of the "Plantagenet" seventy-four, the
"Rota" thirty-eight, and "Carnation" eighteen, hove in sight, and
soon swung into the harbor and dropped anchor. Reid watched the
movements of the enemy with eager vigilance. He knew well that the
protection of Portugal would not aid him in the least should the
captain of that seventy-four choose to open fire upon the "Armstrong."
The action of the British in coming into the harbor was in itself
suspicious, and the American had little doubt that the safety of his
vessel was in jeopardy. While he was pacing the deck, and weighing in
his mind the probability of an assault by the British, he caught sight
of some unusual stir aboard the hostile ships. It was night; but the
moon had risen, and by its pale light Reid saw four large barges let
fall from the enemy's ships, and, manned by about forty men each, make
toward his vessel. In an instant every man on the privateer was called
to his post. That there was to be an attack, was now certain; and the
Americans determined not to give up their vessel without at least a
vigorous attempt to defend her. Reid's first act was to warp his craft
under the guns of a rather dilapidated castle, which was supposed to
uphold the authority of Portugal over the island and adjacent waters.
Hardly had the position been gained, when the foremost of the British
boats came within hail, and Capt. Reid shouted, "Boat ahoy! What
boat's that?" No response followed the hail; and it was repeated, with
the warning, "Answer, or I shall fire into you." Still the British
advanced without responding; and Reid, firmly convinced that they
purposed to carry his ship with a sudden dash, ordered his gunners to
open on the boats with grape. This was done, and at the first volley
the British turned and made off. Capt. Reid then warped his vessel
still nearer shore; and bending springs on her cable, so that her
broadside might be kept always toward the enemy, he awaited a second
attack. At midnight the enemy were seen advancing again, this time
with fourteen barges and about five hundred men. While the flotilla
was still at long range, the Americans opened fire upon them with the
heavy "Long Tom;" and, as they came nearer, the full battery of long
nine-pounders took up the fight. The carn

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