The Second War with England, Vol. 2 of 2
by Joel Tyler Headley · English · Gutenberg #39369 · 492,092 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Second War with England, Vol. 2 of 2
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Second War with England, Vol. 2 of 2
Author: Joel Tyler Headley
Release date: April 4, 2012 [eBook #39369]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39369
Credits: Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Christine P. Travers
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND, VOL. 2 OF 2 ***
Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Christine P. Travers
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net
THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND.
[Illustration: Com. Porter in the Bay of Novaheevah.]
THE SECOND WAR
WITH
ENGLAND.
BY J. T. HEADLEY,
AUTHOR OF "NAPOLEON AND HIS MARSHALS," "WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS,"
"THE OLD GUARD," "SCOTT AND JACKSON," ETC. ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET.
1853.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Southern District of New York.
C. W. BENEDICT,
STEREOTYPER AND PRINTER,
12 Spruce Street, N. Y.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER I.
THE CREEK WAR.
Jackson's first service -- Is appointed commander-in-chief
of the Tennessee forces -- Co-operation of other states --
Jackson enters the Creek nation -- Difficulties of his
position -- General Coffee's expedition -- Relieves Fort
Talladega -- Battle of -- Stormy condition of his army --
Quells a mutiny -- Abandoned by his troops -- Quells a
second mutiny -- His boldness -- A third mutiny suppressed
-- Left with but a hundred followers -- Clairborne's
movements -- Arrival of reinforcements -- Makes a diversion
in favor of General Floyd -- Battle of Nutessee -- Battle of
Emuckfaw -- Ambuscade of the Indians -- Gallantry of General
Coffee -- Battle of the "Horse Shoe" -- The war ended --
Jackson's character, 11
CHAPTER II.
Cruise of Commodore Porter in the Essex -- Arrival at
Valparaiso -- Capture of British whalers and letters of
marque -- Essex Junior -- Marquesas Islands -- Description
of the natives -- Madison Island -- War with the Happahs --
Invades the Typee territory -- Tedious march -- Beautiful
prospect -- Fights the natives and burns down their towns --
Sails for Valparaiso -- Blockaded by two English ships --
Attempts to escape -- Is attacked by both vessels -- His
gallant defence -- His surrender -- Returns home on parole
-- Insolence of an English Officer -- Porter escapes in an
open boat and lands on Long Island -- Enthusiastic reception
in New York, 45
CHAPTER III.
Plan of the third Campaign -- Attack on Sackett's Harbor --
Attack on Oswego -- Woolsey transports guns to Sackett's
Harbor -- Capture of the detachment sent against him --
Expedition against Mackinaw -- Death of Captain Holmes --
Complete failure of the expedition, 67
CHAPTER IV.
Brown takes command of the army at Niagara -- Crosses the
river into Canada -- Battle of Chippewa -- Brilliant charge
of the Americans -- Desperate battle of Niagara -- Conduct
of Ripley -- The army ordered to Fort Erie -- General Gaines
takes command, 74
CHAPTER V.
Siege of Fort Erie -- Assault and repulse of the British --
Brown takes command -- Resolves to destroy the enemy's works
by a sortie -- Opposed by his officers -- The sortie --
Anecdote of General Porter -- Retreat of Drummond -- Conduct
of Izard, 101
CHAPTER VI.
British plan of invading our sea ports -- Arrival of
reinforcements -- Barney's flotilla -- Landing of the enemy
under Ross -- Doubt and alarm of the inhabitants -- Advance
of the British -- Destruction of the Navy Yard -- Battle of
Bladensburg -- Flight of the President and his Cabinet --
Burning and sacking of Washington -- Mrs. Madison's conduct
during the day and night -- Cockburn's brutality -- Sudden
explosion -- A hurricane -- Flight of the British -- State
of the army -- Character of this outrage -- Rejoicings in
England -- Mortification of our ambassadors at Ghent --
Mistake of the English -- Parker's expedition -- Colonel
Reed's defence -- The English army advance on Baltimore --
Death of Ross -- Bombardment of Fort McHenry -- "The star
spangled banner" -- Retreat of the British, and joy of the
citizens of Baltimore, 114
CHAPTER VII.
Macomb at Plattsburg -- American and English fleets on Lake
Champlain -- Advance of Prevost -- Indifference of Governor
Chittenden -- Rev. Mr. Wooster -- Macdonough -- The two
battles -- Funeral of the officers -- British invasion of
Maine -- McArthur's expedition, 147
CHAPTER VIII.
The Navy in 1814 -- Cruise of Captain Morris in the Adams --
Narrow escapes -- The Wasp and Reindeer -- Cruise of the
Wasp -- Sinks the Avon -- Mysterious fate of the Wasp -- The
Peacock captures the Epervier -- Lieutenant Nicholson, 165
CHAPTER IX.
Third Session of the XIIIth Congress -- State of the
Treasury -- The President's Message -- Dallas appointed
Secretary of the Treasury -- His scheme and that of Eppes
for the relief of the country -- Our Commissioners at Ghent
-- Progress of the negotiations -- English protocol -- Its
effect on Congress and the nation -- Effect of its
publication on the English Parliament, 174
CHAPTER X.
HARTFORD CONVENTION.
Attitude of New England -- Governor Strong -- Views and
purposes of the Federalists -- Anxiety of Madison --
Prudence of Colonel Jesup -- Result of the Convention --
Fears of the People -- Fate of the Federalists, 191
CHAPTER XI.
General Jackson appointed Major-General -- Hostility of
Spain -- Gallant defence of Fort Bowyer -- Seizure of
Pensacola -- Jackson at New Orleans -- Approach and landing
of the British -- Jackson proclaims martial law -- Night
attack on the British -- Jackson entrenches himself -- First
attack of the British -- Second attack -- Final assault --
The battle and the victory -- Jackson fined by Judge Hall --
Arrival of the Treaty of Peace -- Great rejoicings --
Delegates of the Hartford Convention -- Remarks on the
treaty, 199
CHAPTER XII.
Cruise of the Constitution -- Action with the Cyane and
Levant -- Chased by a British fleet -- England's views of
neutral rights and the law of nations -- Her honor and
integrity at a discount -- Singular escape of the
Constitution -- Recapture of the Levant under the guns of a
neutral port -- Lampoons on the English squadron for its
contemptible conduct -- Decatur -- Capture of the President
-- The Hornet captures the Penguin -- Chased by a ship of
the line -- Narrow escape -- Cruise of the Peacock -- Review
of the American Navy -- Its future destiny, 236
CHAPTER XIII.
PRIVATEERS.
Character and daring of our privateers -- Skill of American
seamen -- Acts of Congress relative to privateering -- Names
of ships -- Gallant action of the Nonsuch -- Success of the
Dolphin -- Cruise of the Comet -- Narrow escape of the
Governor Tompkins -- Desperate action of the Globe with two
brigs -- The Decatur takes a British sloop of war -- Action
of the Neufchatel with the crew of the Endymion -- Desperate
defence of Captain Reed against the crews of British
squadron -- The Chasseur captures a British schooner of war
-- Character of the commanders of privateers -- Anecdote, 258
CHAPTER XIV.
DARTMOOR PRISON.
Impressed Americans made prisoners of war -- Treatment of
prisoners -- Prison Ships -- Dartmoor prison -- Neglect of
American prisoners -- Their sufferings -- Fourth of July in
Dartmoor -- Brutal attack of the French prisoners -- Fresh
arrivals -- Joy at the news of our naval victories --
Sufferings of the prisoners in winter -- American Government
allows them three cents per diem -- Moral effect of this
notice of Government -- Napoleon's downfall -- Increased
allowance of Government -- Industry of prisoners -- Attempts
to escape -- Extraordinary adventure of a lieutenant of a
privateer -- Number of prisoners increased -- A riot to
obtain bread -- Dartmoor massacre -- Messrs. King and
L'Arpent appointed commissioners to investigate it --
Decision -- The end, 279
Tax-tables, 301
Index, 313
HISTORY OF THE SECOND WAR WITH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
THE CREEK WAR.
Jackson's first service -- Is appointed commander in-chief
of the Tennessee forces -- Co-operation of other states --
Jackson enters the Creek nation -- Difficulties of his
position -- General Coffee's expedition -- Relieves Fort
Talladega -- Battle of -- Stormy condition of his army --
Quells a mutiny -- Abandoned by his troops -- Quells a
second mutiny -- His boldness -- A third mutiny suppressed
-- Left with but a hundred followers -- Clairborne's
movements -- Arrival of reinforcements -- Makes a diversion
in favor of General Floyd -- Battle of Nutessee -- Battle of
Emuckfaw -- Ambuscade of the Indians -- Gallantry of General
Coffee -- Battle of the "Horse Shoe" -- The war ended --
Jackson's character.
Allusion has been made to Jackson's campaign against the Creeks, but I
purposely omitted an account of its progress, preferring to go back
and make a continuous narrative. Although embracing a portion of two
years, it composed a single expedition, and forms a whole which loses
much of its interest by being contemplated in parts. After the
cowardly surrender of General Hull, at Detroit, in the commencement of
the war, Jackson offered his services to the government, and
solicited the post which was assigned to Winchester. Disappointed in
this, he repaired, at the order of the Secretary of War, to Natchez,
to assist Wilkinson, then stationed there, to repel the attacks of the
enemy should they advance up the Mississippi. But no danger from an
attack in that quarter appearing, he was directed to disband his
troops. Refusing to do this, on account of the number of sick in camp,
many of them sons of his neighbors and friends, he became involved in
a quarrel both with Wilkinson and his own officers. He, however,
carried out his measures and led his men back in safety to their
homes.
[Sidenote: 1813.]
Here he remained idle till the massacre at Fort Mimms, the news of
which, together with the rising of the Indians all along our southern
frontier, burst like a sudden thunder-clap on the neighboring States.
Georgia, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, flew at once to arms. On
the 17th of September a mass meeting assembled at Nashville, which
with one voice nominated Jackson commander-in-chief of the troops of
the State. Ten days after, the nomination was confirmed by the
Legislature, and 200,000 dollars voted to carry on the war. Jackson
immediately issued a stirring appeal to the people, in which, after
describing the state of things, he urged them to assemble to his
standard with all speed, saying, "Already are large bodies of the
hostile Creeks marching to your borders, with their scalping-knives
unsheathed to butcher your women and children: time is not to be lost.
We must hasten to the frontier, or we shall find it drenched in the
blood of our citizens." At this time he was suffering from a disabled
arm which had been mutilated in an encounter with Benton, and was
unable to be present at Fayetteville, the rendezvous, on the 4th of
October; but he sent an address to be read to the troops, and rules
regulating the police of the camp. Although too feeble to take the
field, he, three days after, with his arm in a sling, put himself at
the head of the army. The next evening, a dispatch arrived from
Colonel Coffee, who had been previously sent forward with a large
detachment to Huntsville, thirty-two miles distant, stating that a
body of nearly a thousand Indians were on their way to ravage the
frontiers of Georgia, and another party approaching Tennessee. The day
after came a second express confirming the report. By nine o'clock the
following morning, Jackson put his army of twenty-five hundred men in
motion, and at eight in the evening reached Huntsville, making the
thirty-two miles in eleven hours. Finding that the rumor was without
foundation, he proceeded leisurely to Ditto's Landing, where Col.
Coffee with his regiment was encamped. Here he paused to wait for
supplies, and survey his position.
With promptness on the part of those co-operating with him, he saw
that the hostile Creeks could be crushed with one blow; for on the
west of their settlements were six hundred Mississippi volunteers and
the 3d regiment of regular infantry, six hundred strong, under Colonel
Russel; on the east were twenty-five hundred Georgia militia,
commanded by General Floyd; while from the north, five thousand
volunteers and militia--twenty-five hundred from East Tennessee, under
Generals Cocke and White, and the same number from the western section
of the State--were moving down on the devoted tribes. This army of
five thousand Tennesseans was under his own command, the western half
of which he led in person. There were, besides this formidable array,
a few posts held by small detachments, and a few hundred friendly
Indians, most of them Cherokees. When these separate armies should
close around the hostile settlements, encircling them in a girdle of
fire, it was universally believed that the war would be over.
While Jackson remained at Ditto's Landing, waiting anxiously for the
supplies which Generals Cocke and White had promised to forward, he
dispatched General Coffee, with six hundred picked men, to destroy
Blackwarrior town, a hundred miles south.
At length, being urged by the earnest appeals of friendly Indians, who
were in daily danger of being cut off by the Creeks, he, on the 19th,
started for Thompson's Creek, where he had ordered the provisions,
which he supposed were near at hand, to be stopped. Cutting his way
through the heavy forests, and dragging his artillery over steep
mountains, he at length, after a painful march of two days, reached
the place of depot but no provisions had arrived. Instead of supplies,
came a letter from General White, who was at Lookout Mountain in the
Cherokee country, stating that no flour could be spared from that
post. His position was now becoming painful and critical. Standing in
the centre of the wilderness, on the borders of the enemy's country,
with his little band around him, he saw no alternative but to retreat,
unless he ran the risk of starving in the forest. But to abandon his
design, would leave the friendly Indians at the mercy of their
enemies, an act not only cruel in the extreme, and utterly repugnant
to his nature, but which would furnish a fatal example to the other
friendly tribes, whose alliance it was of the highest importance to
secure. Prudence would have dictated a retreat, but Jackson had never
yet turned his back voluntarily on a foe, and he resolved, at all
hazards, to proceed. Sending off expresses to Generals Cocke and
White, and to the Governors of Tennessee and Georgia, and the American
agents in the Choctaw and Cherokee nations, he issued a stirring
address to his troops, in which he promised them that the "order to
charge would be the signal for victory." In urging on them the
importance of coolness, and presence of mind, in every emergency, even
in "retreat," he adds,
"Your general laments that he has been compelled, even incidentally,
to _hint_ at a retreat, when speaking to freemen and to soldiers.
Never, until you forget all that is due to yourselves and your
country, will you have any practical understanding of that word. Shall
an enemy, wholly unacquainted with military evolutions, and who rely
more for victory on their grim visages, and hideous yells, than upon
their bravery or their weapons--shall such an enemy ever drive before
them, the well-trained youths of our country, whose bosoms pant for
glory, and a desire to avenge the wrongs they have received? Your
general will not live to behold such a spectacle; rather would he rush
into the thickest of the enemy, and submit himself to their
scalping-knives; but he has no fear of such a result. He knows the
valor of the men he commands, and how certainly that valor, regulated
as it will be, will lead to victory."
Cut off from supplies, locked up in the wilderness, through which
swarmed thousands of savages eagerly watching his advance, with only
six days' rations of meat and two of flour, he issued this bold and
confident address, and then gave orders for the army to march.
Arriving at Ten Islands, he erected Fort Strother, to serve as a
depot, and to cover his retreat. In a letter to Governor Blount, from
this place, he says,--
"Indeed, sir, we have been wretchedly supplied,--scarcely two rations
in succession have been regularly drawn, yet we are not despondent.
While we can procure an ear of corn apiece, or anything that will
answer as a substitute for it, we shall continue our exertions to
accomplish the object for which we were sent."
Here, being informed that General White was only twenty-five miles
distant up the river, he sent him a despatch to hasten, at once, to
the fort. In the mean time, General Coffee, who had returned
successful from his southern expedition, was sent to attack a large
body of Indians at Tallushatchee, some thirty miles distant. With nine
hundred men, this gallant officer advanced, and succeeded in
completely surrounding them; and though the savages fought desperately
to the last, but few escaped. A hundred and eighty warriors lay
stretched around the ashes of their dwellings. Among the slain, was a
mother, on whose bosom her infant boy was found, struggling in vain to
draw nourishment from the lifeless breast. When he was brought to
camp, Jackson endeavored to persuade some of the female captives to
take care of him, but they all refused, saying, "His relations are
all dead, kill him too." He then ordered some sugar to be given him,
and sent him to Huntsville, where he could be properly cared for. He
afterwards adopted him, gave him a good education, and placed him at a
saddler's to learn a trade. The latter was accustomed to spend every
Sunday at the Hermitage, with his adopted father, who was strongly
attached to him. But he always pined for the free, wild life of his
race. The close air of the shop and the drudgery of an apprentice did
not agree with him, and he soon after sickened. He was then taken home
to the Hermitage, where he lingered some time, and died.
At length, on the 7th of November, an Indian runner arrived in camp,
stating that Fort Talladega, about thirty miles distant, was
surrounded by the hostile Red-sticks, and if he did not hurry to its
relief, the friendly Indians, who had taken refuge in it must be
massacred. The runner had scarcely finished his message when the order
to march was issued, and in a few minutes the columns were in motion.
It was midnight, and through the dim cathedrals of nature, lighted
only by the stars of heaven, Jackson led his two thousand men towards
the Talladega. Eight hundred of these were mounted riflemen, who
presented a picturesque appearance, as they wound slowly along the
rough forest path underneath the autumnal woods, each with unceasing
watchfulness, piercing the surrounding gloom, and every hand grasping
a trusty rifle. Their heavy tramp frightened the wild beasts from
their lairs, and awoke strange echoes in the solitude. Now straining
up steep ascents, and now swimming deep rivers, the fearless and
gallant band pressed forward. In three columns, so as to prevent the
confusion that might arise from a sudden surprise, it forced its
difficult way through the forest, and at night arrived within six
miles of the besieged fort. Here Jackson halted, and sent forward two
friendly Indians and a white man, to reconnoitre. About eleven o'clock
they returned, and reported the enemy in great force, and within a
quarter of a mile of the fort. No time was to be lost, and though the
troops had been without sleep, and constantly on the strain for
twenty-four hours, another night, and a battle, lay between them and
repose.
It was four o'clock of a cool November morning, when the three columns
again moved forward. Advancing with the utmost caution and quietness
to within a mile of the Indian encampment, they halted, and formed in
order of battle. Two hundred and fifty of the cavalry, under
Lieut.-Col. Dyer, were left in the rear of the centre to act as a
reserve, while the remaining four hundred and fifty were ordered to
push forward to the right and left on either side, until the heads of
their columns met beyond the hostile encampment, and thus completely
encircle it. The two brigades of Hall and Roberts, occupying the right
and left, were directed to advance, while the ring of cavalry was
steadily to contract, so as to shut in every savage and prevent
escape. At eight o'clock, Colonel Carroll boldly charged the position
in front of him, and carried it; he then retreated, in order to draw
the Indians in pursuit. They charged after him with such terrific
whoops and screams, that a portion of General Roberts' brigade, on
whom they were rushing with uplifted tomahawks, broke and fled. This
made a chasm in the line, which Jackson immediately ordered Colonel
Bradley to fill with his regiment, that for some reason, known only to
the latter, had lagged behind, to the great detriment of the order of
battle. But not only had he proved a laggard in the approach, but he
refused to fill the chasm, as ordered by his commander, and the latter
was compelled to dismount his reserve and hurry them forward. As these
steadily and firmly advanced, and poured in their volleys, the
panic-stricken militia recovered their courage and resumed their
places in the line. In the mean time, the encircling cavalry came
galloping, with loud hurrahs, towards the centre. The next moment the
forest rang with the sharp reports of their rifles. In fifteen minutes
the battle was over, and the terrified savages were wildly skirting
the inner edge of this circle of fire, seeking, in vain, an avenue to
the open forest beyond. Turned back at every step, they fell like the
autumn leaves which the wind shook around them. At length they
discovered a gap, made by the neglect of Colonel Bradley and the delay
of a portion of the cavalry, which had taken too wide a circuit, and
poured like a torrent that has suddenly found vent, through it. The
mounted riflemen wheeled and streamed after; and the quick, sharp
reports of their pieces, and the receding yells rising from the
forest, told how fiercely they pressed on the flying traces of the
foe. The savages made straight for the mountains, three miles distant,
fighting as they went. The moment they bounded up the steep acclivity
they were safe, and the wearied horsemen turned again to the camp.
Their way back was easily tracked by the swarthy forms that lay
stretched on the leaves, showing where the flight and pursuit had
swept. Of the thousand and more who had composed the force of the
enemy, more than half were killed or wounded. Three hundred were left
dead on the spot where they had first fought. The loss of the
Americans in killed and wounded, was ninety-five.
The friendly Indians, who had been so long shut up without a drop of
water, in momentary expectation of being massacred, listened to the
uproar without, with beating hearts; but when the battle was over,
they rushed forth with the most frantic cries of joy, and leaped and
shouted around their deliverers in all the wildness of savage delight.
They crowded around Jackson as if he had been their deity, toward whom
they could not show too much reverence.
The refusal of General White to march to Fort Strother, left the
feeble garrison of the latter in a perilous state. If it should fall,
Jackson's whole line of retreat would be cut off; and he, therefore,
with deep pain, was compelled to stop in his victorious progress, and
return to the fort. On his arrival, he found that no supplies had
reached it, and that the soldiers, half-starved, were bordering on
mutiny. General Cocke, from the first, seemed resolved to withhold all
aid from Jackson, lest he himself should be eclipsed in the campaign.
[Sidenote: Nov. 11.] This officer directed his movements against the
Hillabee towns. General White, with the mounted men, succeeded in
destroying the place, killing and capturing three hundred and sixteen
warriors.
[Sidenote: Nov. 18.]
Jackson, however, endeavored to keep alive the spirits and courage of
his troops, and distributed all his private stores to the feeble and
wounded. Having nothing left for himself and staff, he repaired to the
bullock-pen, and from the offals cut tripe, on which he and they lived
for days, in the vain hope of receiving the long-promised supplies.
One day, as he sat at the foot of a tree, thinking of the hard
condition of his men, and planning how he might find some relief from
the increasing difficulties that pressed so hard upon him, one of the
soldiers, observing that he was eating something, approached, and
asked for a portion. Jackson looked up with a pleasant smile, and
said, "I will, most cheerfully, divide with you what I have;" and
taking some acorns from his pocket, he handed them to the astonished
and mortified soldier. His solicitude for the army did not expend
itself in words, for he shared with the meanest soldier his privations
and his wants, while many of his subordinate officers possessed
abundance. He let the latter enjoy the rations to which they were
legally entitled, but himself scorned to sit down to a well-supplied
table, while the army was perishing with want.
This state of things, of course, could not last long. The soldiers
believed themselves neglected by the State for whose safety they were
fighting; else why this protracted refusal to send them provisions?
The incipient discontent was fed and aggravated by several of the
officers, who were getting tired of the campaign, and wished to return
home, till at last it broke out into open revolt. The militia
regiments, _en masse_, had resolved to leave. Jackson received the
communication with grief and indignation. He felt for his poor,
half-starved men, but all his passionate nature was roused at this
deliberate defiance of his authority. The militia, however, did not
regard his expostulations or threats, and they fixed on a morning to
commence their march. But as they drew out to take their departure,
they found, to their astonishment, the volunteers paraded across the
path, with Jackson at their head. He ordered them to return to their
position, or they should answer for their disobedience with their
lives. They obeyed; but the volunteers, indignant that they had been
made the instrument of quelling the revolt, and anxious as the others
were to get away, resolved next morning to depart themselves. To their
surprise, however, they saw the militia drawn up in the same position
they had occupied the day before, to arrest the first forward movement
that was made. This was a dangerous game to play with armed men, and
would not bear a second trial.
The cavalry, on the ground that the country yielded no forage for
their horses, were permitted to retire to the neighborhood of
Huntsville, where they promised to wait the orders of their commander.
In the mean time, Jackson hearing that provisions were on the way,
made an effort to allay the excited, angry feelings that existed in
the army, and so, on the 14th of November, invited all the field and
platoon officers to his quarters, and after informing them that
abundant supplies were close at hand, addressed them in a kind and
sympathizing manner, told them how deeply he felt for their
sufferings, and concluded by promising, if provisions did not arrive
within two days, to lead them back himself to Tennessee. But this kind
and conciliatory speech produced no effect on a portion of the army,
and the first regiment of volunteers insisted on abandoning the fort.
Permission to leave was granted, and Jackson, with chagrin and
anguish, saw the men whom he refused to abandon at Natchez, forsake
him in the heart of the forest, surrounded by hostile savages.
The two days expiring without the arrival of provisions, he was
compelled to fulfill his promise to the army, and preparations were
made for departure. In the midst of the breaking up of the camp, he
sat down and wrote a letter to Colonel Pope, the contractor, which
exhibits how deeply he felt, not merely this abandonment of him, but
the failure of the expedition. He says in conclusion:
"I cannot express the torture of my feelings, when I reflect that a
campaign so auspiciously begun, and which might be so soon and so
gloriously terminated, is likely to be rendered abortive for the want
of supplies. For God's sake, prevent so great an evil."
As the baggage-wagons were loaded up, and the men fell into marching
order, the palpable evidence of the failure of the project on which
he had so deeply set his heart, and the disgrace that awaited his
army, became so painful, that he could not endure the sight, and he
exclaimed in mingled grief and shame,
"If only two men will remain with me, I will never abandon the post."
"You have one, General!" exclaimed Captain Gordon, of the spies, who
stood beside him.
The gallant captain immediately began to beat up for volunteers, and
it was not long before a hundred and nine brave fellows surrounded
their general, swearing to stand by him to the last.
The latter then put himself at the head of the militia, telling them
he should order them back, if they met provisions near by. They had
gone but ten or twelve miles, when they met a hundred and fifty beeves
on their way to the fort. The men fell to, and in a short time were
gorging themselves with half roasted meat. Invigorated by their
gluttonous repast, most of them consented to return. One company,
however, quietly resumed its journey homeward. When Jackson was
informed of it, he sprang into his saddle, and galloping a quarter of
a mile ahead, where General Coffee with his staff and a few soldiers
had halted, ordered them to form across the road, and fire on the
first man that attempted to pass. As the mutineers came up and saw
that living barrier before them, and in front of it the stern and
decided face of their commander, they wheeled about, and retraced
their steps. Jackson then dismounted and began to mingle among the
men, to allay their excitement, and conciliate their feelings. While
he was thus endeavoring to reduce to cheerful obedience this
refractory company, he was told, to his utter amazement, that the
other portion of the army had changed their mind, and the whole
brigade was drawn up in column, and on the point of marching homeward.
He immediately walked up in front of it, snatched a musket from the
hands of a soldier, and resting it across the neck of his horse, swore
he would shoot the first man who attempted to move. The soldiers stood
and looked in sullen silence at that resolute face, undecided whether
to advance or not, when General Coffee and his staff galloped up.
These, together with the faithful companies, Jackson ordered to form
behind him, and fire when he did. Not a word was uttered for some
time, as the two parties thus stood face to face, and gazed on each
other. At length a murmur rang along the column--rebellion was
crushed, and the mutineers consented to return. Discontent, however,
prevailed, and the volunteers looked anxiously forward to the 10th of
December, the time when they supposed the term of their enlistment
expired. They had originally enlisted for twelve months, and counting
in the time they had been disbanded, after their return from Natchez,
the year would be completed on that date. But Jackson refused to allow
the time they were not in actual service. Letters passed between the
officers and himself, and every effort was made on his part to allay
the excitement, and convince the troops of the justice of his demands.
He appealed to their patriotism, their courage, and honor, and finally
told them if the General Government gave permission for their
discharge, he would discharge them, otherwise they should walk over
his dead body before they stirred a foot, until the twelve months'
actual service was accomplished. [Sidenote: Dec.] Anticipating
trouble, he wrote home for reinforcements, and sent off officers for
recruits.
In the mean time, the 10th of December drew near, and every heart was
filled with anxiety for the result. A portion of the army was resolved
to _take_ their discharge, whether granted or not. It was not a sudden
impulse, created by want and suffering, but a well-considered and
settled determination, grounded on what they considered their rights.
The thing had been long discussed, and many of the officers had given
their decided opinion that the time of the men actually expired on the
10th. Jackson knew that his troops were brave, and when backed by the
consciousness of right, would be resolute and firm. But he had made up
his mind to prevent mutiny, though he was compelled to sacrifice a
whole regiment in doing it.
At length, on the evening of the 9th, Gen. Hall entered the tent of
Jackson, and informed him that his whole brigade was in a state of
revolt. The latter immediately issued an order stating the fact, and
calling on all the officers to aid in quelling it. He then directed
the two guns he had with him, to be placed, one in front and the other
in the rear, and the militia on the rising ground in advance, to check
any movement in that direction, and waited the result. The brigade
assembled, and were soon in marching order. Jackson then rode slowly
along the line, and addressed the soldiers. He reminded them of their
former good conduct, spoke of the love and esteem he had always borne
them, of the reinforcements on the way, saying, also, that he expected
every day, the decision of the government, on the question of their
discharge, and wound up by telling them emphatically, that he had done
with entreaty,--go they should not, and if they persisted, he would
settle the matter in a very few minutes. He demanded an immediate and
explicit answer. They persisted. He repeated his demand, and still
receiving no answer, he ordered the artillerists to prepare their
matches, and at the word "Fire!" to pour their volleys of grape-shot
into the closely crowded ranks. There he sat, gazing sternly down the
line, while the few moments of grace allowed them, were passing
rapidly away. The men knew it was no idle threat. He had never been
known to break his word, and that sooner than swerve one hair from his
purpose, he would drench that field in blood. Alarmed, they began to
whisper one to another, "Let us go back." The contagion of fear
spread, and soon the officers advanced, and promised, on behalf of the
men, that they would return to their quarters.
As if to try this resolute man to the utmost, and drive him to
despair, no sooner was one evil averted than another overtook him. He
had, by his boldness, quelled the mutiny; but he now began again to
feel the horrors of famine. Supplies did not arrive; or in such scanty
proportion, that he was compelled, at last, to discharge the troops,
and, notwithstanding all the distressing scenes through which he had
passed to retain them, see them take up their line of march for home,
leaving him, with only a hundred devoted followers, shut up in the
forest.
[Sidenote: Dec. 23.]
While these things were passing, General Clairborne, with his
volunteers, passed up the east side of the Alabama, and piercing to
the towns above the Cahawba, gave battle to the Indians under their
great leader, Weathersford, and defeated them, with the loss of but
one man killed and seven wounded. Destroying their villages, he
returned to Fort Clairborne. [Sidenote: 1814.] Jackson remained idle
till the middle of January, when he was gladdened by the arrival of
eight hundred recruits. Not deeming these, however, sufficient to
penetrate into the heart of the Creek country, he resolved to make a
diversion in favor of General Floyd, who was advancing from the east.
[Sidenote: Dec. 29.] This officer, leaving his encampment on the
Chattahouche, and advancing into the Indian territory along the
southern bank of the Talapoosa River, came on the morning of the 29th
upon the town of Autossee, where a large number of Indians were
assembled. Having marched since one o'clock in the morning, he took
the savages by surprise. They however rallied and fought desperately,
retreating only before the fire of the artillery. Two towns, within
sight of each other, were soon in flames. Several hundred of the enemy
were killed and wounded, while the loss of the Americans was but
sixty-five. Among the wounded was General Floyd, who was struck by a
shot while gallantly leading on his command. Hearing that a large
number of Indians were encamped on the Emuckfaw Creek, where it
empties into the Tallapoosa River, Jackson marched thither, and on the
evening of the 21st of January, arrived within a short distance of
their encampment. The Indians were aware of his approach, and resolved
to anticipate his attack. To prevent a surprise, however, Jackson had
ordered a circle of watch-fires to be built around his little band.
The men stood to their arms all night; and just before daylight a wild
yell, which always precedes an attack, went up from the forest, and
the next moment the savages charged down on the camp. But, the instant
the light of the watch-fires fell on their tawny bodies they were
swept with such a destructive volley, that they again took shelter in
the darkness. At length, daylight appeared, when General Coffee
ordered a charge, which cleared the field. He was then directed to
advance on the encampment with four hundred men, and carry it by
storm. On his approach, however, he found it too strong for his force,
and retired. Jackson, attacked in return, was compelled to charge
repeatedly, before the savages finally took to flight. Many of their
bravest warriors fell in this short conflict; while, on the American
side, several valuable officers were badly wounded, among them General
Coffee, who, from the commencement to the close, was in the thickest
of the fight.
Notwithstanding his victory, Jackson prudently determined to retreat.
He had gained his object; for in drawing the attention of the Indians
to his own force, he had diverted it from that under Gen. Floyd.
Besides, his horses had been without forage for two days, and would
soon break down. He, therefore, buried the dead on the field where
they had fallen; and, on the 23d, began to retrace his footsteps.
Judging from the quietness of the Indians since the battle, he
suspected they were lurking in ambush ahead. Remembering also what an
excellent place there was for a surprise at the ford of Enotochopeo,
he sent men in advance to reconnoitre, who discovered another ford
some six hundred yards farther down the stream. Reaching this just at
evening, he encamped there all night, and the next morning commenced
crossing. He expected an attack while in the middle of the stream,
and, therefore, had his rear formed in order of battle. His
anticipations proved correct; for no sooner had a part of the army
reached the opposite bank, than an alarm-gun was heard in the rear. In
an instant, all was in commotion. The next moment, the forest
resounded with the war-whoop and yells of the savages, as they came
rushing on in great numbers. As they crowded on the militia, the
latter, with their officers, gave way in affright, and poured
pell-mell down the bank. Jackson was standing on the shore
superintending the crossing of his two pieces of artillery, when his
broken ranks came tumbling about him. Foremost among the fugitives was
Captain Stump; and, Jackson, enraged at the shameful disorder, aimed a
desperate blow at him with his sword, fully intending to cut him down.
One glance of his eye revealed the whole extent of the danger. But
for Gen. Carroll, who, with Capt. Quarles and twenty-five men, stood
nobly at bay, beating back with their deliberate volleys the hordes of
savages, the entire rear of the army would have been massacred. But,
over the din and tumult, Jackson's voice rang clear and steady as a
bugle-note, as he rapidly issued his orders. The gallant and intrepid
Coffee, roused by the tumult, raised himself from the litter on which
he lay wounded, and casting one glance on the panic, and another upon
the little band that stood like a rock embedded in the farther bank,
leaped to the ground, and with one bound landed in his saddle. The
next moment, his shout of encouragement broke on the ears of his
companions as he dashed forward to the conflict. Jackson looked up in
surprise as that pale face galloped up the bank, and then his rage at
the cowardice of the men gave way to the joy of the true hero when
another hero moves to his side, and he shouted, "We shall whip them
yet, my men! _the dead have risen, and come to aid us_." The company
of artillery followed, leaving Lieutenant Armstrong and a few men to
drag up the cannon. When one of the guns, at length, reached the top
of the bank, the rammer and picker were nowhere to be found. A man
instantly wrenched the bayonet from his musket, and rammed home the
cartridge with the stock, and picked it with his ramrod. Lieutenant
Armstrong fell beside his piece; but as he lay upon the ground, he
cried out, "My brave fellows, some of you must fall; but save the
cannon." Such heroism is always contagious; and the men soon rallied,
and charging home on the savages, turned them in flight on every side.
After burying his dead and caring for the wounded, Jackson resumed his
march; and, four days after, reached Fort Strother in safety. Nearly
one-eighth of his little army had been killed or wounded since he left
the post, and he now dismissed the remainder, who claimed that the
time of their enlistment was expired; and quietly waited till
sufficient reinforcements should arrive for him to undertake a
thorough campaign into the Creek country.
[Sidenote: Jan. 27.]
Four days after this, General Floyd again advancing into the Creek
country, was attacked just before daylight by a large body of Indians,
who rushed on him with terrible impetuosity. Determined on victory,
they advanced within thirty steps of the artillery, and would have
taken it but for the uncommon coolness and bravery of the subordinate
officers. At length a charge of bayonet sent them flying in all
directions. The cavalry then charged, and the horses rushing furiously
forward, to the sound of bugles, completed the terror of the savages,
who disappeared like frightened deer in the surrounding forests,
leaving thirty-seven dead on the field.
Reinforcements soon began to come in to Jackson; for his bravery and
success awakened confidence, and stimulated the ambition of thousands,
who were sure to win distinction under such a leader; and, by March,
he found himself at the head of four thousand militia and volunteers,
and a regiment of regular troops, together with several hundred
friendly Indians. While preparing to advance, mutiny again broke out
in the camp. He determined this time to make an example which should
deter others in future; and a private, being tried and convicted, was
shot. The spectacle was not lost on the soldiers, and nothing more was
heard of a revolt.
Having completed all his arrangements, Jackson, with four thousand
men, advanced, on the 16th of March, into the Creek country. At the
junction of the Cedar Creek with the Coosa River, he established Fort
Williams, and left a garrison. He then continued his march, with some
two thousand five hundred men, towards his previous battle-ground at
Emuckfaw. About five miles below it, in the bend of the Tallapoosa,
the Indians, a thousand strong, had entrenched themselves, determined
to give battle. They were on sacred ground; for all that tract between
the Coosa and Tallapoosa Rivers, known as the "hickory ground," their
prophets had told them the white man could never conquer. This bend
contained about a hundred acres, around which the river wrapped
itself in the form of a horse-shoe, from whence it derived its name.
Across the neck leading to this open plain, the Indians had erected a
breastwork of logs, seven or eight feet high, and pierced it with a
double row of port-holes. Behind it, the ground rose into an
elevation; while still farther back, along the shore, lay the village,
in which were the women and children. Early in the morning of the
25th, Jackson ordered General Coffee to take the mounted riflemen
together with the friendly Indians and cross the river at a ford
below, and stretch around the bend, on the opposite bank from the
village, so as to prevent the fugitives from escaping. He then
advanced in front, and took up his position, and opened on the
breastwork with his light artillery. The cannonade was kept up for two
hours without producing any effect. In the mean time, the friendly
Indians attached to General Coffee's command had swam the river and
loosened a large number of canoes, which they brought back. Captain
Russell's company of spies immediately leaped into them, and, with the
friendly Indians, crossed over and set the village on fire, and with
loud shouts pressed towards the rear of the encampment. The Indians
returned the shout of defiance, and, with a courage and steadiness
they seldom exhibited, repelled every effort to advance.
The troops under Jackson heard the din of the conflict within, and
clamored loudly to be led to the assault. He, however, held them back,
and stood and listened. Discovering, at length, by the incessant
firing in a single place, that the Americans were making no progress,
he ordered the drums to beat the charge. A loud and thrilling shout
rolled along the American line, and, with levelled bayonets, the
excited ranks precipitated themselves on the breastwork. A withering
fire received them, the rifle-balls sweeping like a sudden gust of
sleet, in their very faces. Not an Indian flinched, and many were
pierced through the port-holes; while, in several instances, the
enemy's bullets were welded to the American bayonets. The swarthy
warriors looked grimly through the openings, as though impervious to
death. This, however, was of short duration, and soon the breastwork
was black with men, as they streamed up the sides. Major Montgomery
was the first who planted his foot on the top, but he had scarcely
waved his sword in triumph above his head, when he fell back upon his
companions, dead. A cry of vengeance swelled up from his followers,
and the next moment the troops rolled like a sudden inundation over
the barrier. It then became a hand-to-hand fight. The Indians refused
to yield, and with gleaming knives and tomahawks, and clubbed rifles
and muskets, closed in a death grapple with their foes. Civilization
gave the bold frontiersmen no advantage here--it was a personal
struggle with his swarthy rival for the mastery, where they both
claimed the right of possession. The wild yell of the savage blended
in with the stem curse of the Anglo-Saxon, while high and shrill over
the clangor and clash of arms, arose the shouts of the prophets, as
dancing frantically around their blazing dwellings, they continued
their strange incantations, still crying victory.
At length one was shot in the mouth, as if to give the lie to his
declarations. Pressed in front and rear, many at last turned and fled.
But the unerring rifle dropped them along the shore; while those who
endeavored to save themselves by swimming, sunk in mid-stream under
the deadly fire of Coffee's mounted men. The greater part, however,
fought and fell, face to face, with their foes. It was a long and
desperate struggle; not a soul asked for quarter, but turned, with a
last look of hate and defiance, on his conqueror. As the ranks grew
thin, it ceased to be a fight, and became a butchery. Driven at last
from the breastwork, the few surviving warriors took refuge in the
brush and timber on the hill. Wishing to spare their lives, Jackson
sent an interpreter to them, offering them pardon; but they proudly
refused it, and fired on the messenger. He then turned his cannon on
the spot, but failing to dislodge them, ordered the grass and brush to
be fired. Driven out by the flames, they ran for the river, but most
of them fell before they reached the water. On every side the crack of
the rifle told how many eyes were on the fugitives. Darkness at last
closed the scene, and still night, broken only by the cries of the
wounded, fell on the forest and river. Nearly eight hundred of the
Indians had fallen, five hundred and fifty-seven of whom lay stark and
stiff around and in that encampment. The loss of the Americans, in
killed and wounded, was about two hundred.[1]
[Footnote 1: An incident occurred after the battle, which presented in
striking contrast the two opposite natures of Jackson. An Indian
warrior, severely wounded, was brought to him, whom he placed at once
in the hands of the surgeon. While under the operation, the bold,
athletic warrior looked up, and asked Jackson in broken English, "Cure
'im, kill 'im again?" The latter replied, "No; on the contrary, he
should be well taken care of." He recovered, and Jackson pleased with
his noble bearing, sent him to his own house in Tennessee, and
afterwards had him taught a trade in Nashville, where he eventually
married and settled down in business. When that terrible ferocity,
which took entire possession of this strange, indomitable man in
battle, subsided away, the most gentle and tender emotions usurped its
place. The tiger and the lamb united in his single person.]
The tired soldier slept on the field of slaughter, around the
smouldering fires of the Indian dwellings. The next morning they sunk
the dead bodies of their companions in the river, to save them from
the scalping-knives of the savages, and then took up their backward
march to Fort William.
The original design of having the three armies from Tennessee,
Georgia, and Mississippi, meet in the centre of the Creek nation, and
thus crush it with one united effort, had never been carried out, and
Jackson now resolved alone to overrun and subdue the country. Issuing
a noble address to his troops, he, on the 7th of April, set out for
the Indian village of Hoithlowalle. But he met with no opposition; the
battle of Tohopeka had completely prostrated the tribe, and the war
was virtually at an end. He, however, scoured the country, the Indians
everywhere fleeing before the terror of his name. On his march, he
sent orders to Colonel Milton, who, with a strong force, was also
advancing into the Creek country, to send him provisions. The latter
returned a cavalier refusal. Jackson then sent a peremptory order, not
only to forward provisions, but to join him at once with his troops.
Colonel Milton, after reading the order, asked the bearer what sort of
a man Jackson was. "One," he replied, "who intends, when he gives an
order, to have it obeyed." The colonel concluded to obey, and soon
effected a junction with his troops. Jackson then resumed his march
along the banks of the Tallapoosa; but he had hardly set the leading
column in motion, when word was brought him that Colonel Milton's
brigade was unable to follow, as the wagon-horses had strayed away
during the night, and could not be found. Jackson immediately sent
him word to detail twenty men to each wagon. The astonished colonel
soon found horses sufficient to draw the wagons.
The enemy, however, did not make a stand, and either fled, or came in
voluntarily to tender their submission. The latter part of April,
General Pinckney arrived at Fort Jackson, and assumed the command, and
General Jackson returned to Tennessee, greeted with acclamations, and
covered with honors. In a few months peace was restored with all the
Southern tribes, and the machinations of England in that quarter
completely frustrated.
There is nothing in the history of our country more remarkable than
this campaign, and nothing illustrates the genius of this nation more
than it and the man who carried it triumphantly through. Rising from a
sick couch, he called the young men of every profession to rally to
the defence of their country. Placing himself at the head of the brave
but undisciplined bands that gathered at his bidding, he boldly
plunged into the untrodden wilderness. Unskilled in the art of war,
never having witnessed a battle since he was a boy, he did not
hesitate to assume the command of an army without discipline, and
without knowledge of the toils and difficulties before it. Yet with it
he crossed broad rivers, climbed pathless mountains, and penetrated
almost impassable swamps filled with crafty savages. More subtle and
more tireless than his foes, he thwarted all their schemes. With
famine on one side and an army in open mutiny on the other, he scorned
to yield to discouragement, and would not be forced by the apparently
insurmountable obstacles that opposed his progress, from his purpose.
By his constancy and more than Roman fortitude, compelling adversity
at length to relent, and quelling his rebellious troops by the terror
of his presence and his indomitable will, he at last, with a smile of
triumph, saw his columns winding over the consecrated grounds of the
savages. Soon his battle-shout was heard rising over the crackling of
burning villages. Kings, prophets, and chieftains fell before him; and
crushing towns, villages, and fortresses under his feet, he at last,
with one terrible blow, paralyzed the nation for ever.
Indian warfare, though exhibiting none of the grand movements of a
well-appointed battle, often calls out equally striking qualities, and
requires more promptness and self-possession, and greater mental
resources in a commander. Especially with such an army as Jackson had
under him, the task he accomplished was Herculean, and reveals a
character of vast strength and executiveness. That single man,
standing up alone in the heart of the wilderness, and boldly facing
his famine-struck and rebellious army, presents a scene partaking far
more of the moral sublime than Cromwell seizing a rebel from the very
midst of his murmuring band.
His gloomy isolation for a whole winter, with only a few devoted
followers, reveals a fixedness of purpose and grandeur of character
that no circumstances can affect. Inferior to the contagion of fear,
unaffected by general discouragement, equal in himself to every
emergency, he moves before us in this campaign the embodiment of the
noblest qualities that distinguish the American race.
Jackson, with his undisciplined, mutinous, and starving army in the
southern wilderness, does not seem to belong to the same race as Hull,
Dearborn, Wilkinson and Izard on the northern frontier. Contrast the
difficulties that surrounded him with those that embarrassed them, and
how pitiful do their apologies and excuses sound. Had he been in
Dearborn's place, the first campaign would have placed Canada in our
possession.
CHAPTER II.
Cruise of Commodore Porter in the Essex -- Arrival at
Valparaiso -- Capture of British whalers and letters of
marque -- Essex Junior -- Marquesas Islands -- Description
of the natives -- Madison Island -- War with the Happahs --
Invades the Typee territory -- Tedious march -- Beautiful
prospect -- Fights the natives and burns down their towns --
Sails for Valparaiso -- Blockaded by two English ships --
Attempts to escape -- Is attacked by both vessels -- His
gallant defence -- His surrender -- Returns home on parole
-- Insolence of an English Officer -- Porter escapes in an
open boat and lands on Long Island -- Enthusiastic reception
in New York.
An expedition similar in its unity to that of Jackson's, and hence
requiring a connected narrative, was carried forward by Captain Porter
during the year 1813 in the Pacific Ocean. When Commodore Bainbridge
sailed from Boston with the Constitution and Hornet, Porter, then
lying in the Delaware with the Essex, was ordered to join him at Port
Praya in St. Jago, or at Fernando Noronha. [Sidenote: Oct. 26, 1812.]
The capture of the Java by the Constitution, and of the Peacock by the
Hornet, caused a change in the plans of Bainbridge, and Captain
Porter, not finding him or the Hornet at either of the two places
mentioned, or off Frio, a rendezvous afterwards designated by the
Commodore, he was left to cruise where he thought best. [Sidenote:
Dec. 12.] While searching for these vessels, he captured an English
government packet with $55,000 in specie on board, and sent her home.
[Sidenote: Jan. 1813.]
At length, after revolving various schemes in his mind, he took the
bold resolution to go alone into the Pacific, where we had not a depot
of any kind, or a place in which a disabled vessel could be refitted,
while all the neutral ports were under the influence of our enemy, and
make a dash at the British fishermen. The vessels employed in these
fisheries he knew were invariably supplied with naval stores, etc.,
and he resolved to live on them. This original and daring cruise was
no sooner decided upon than he turned his prow southward, and was soon
wrapt in the storms that sweep Cape Horn. [Sidenote: Jan. 28.] Again
and again beaten back, as if to deter him from his hazardous course,
he still held on, and at length, after a most tempestuous and toilsome
passage, took the breezes of the Pacific and stretched northward.
[Sidenote: March 5.] His provisions getting short, and being in want
of some new rigging, he determined to run into Valparaiso. On his
arrival at that port he found, to his astonishment and delight, that
Chili had declared herself free of Spain, and his reception was kind
and courteous. Here he learned, also, that Peru had sent out cruisers
against American shipping, which, together with British letters of
marque, threatened to make destructive work with our whalers. He
therefore remained only a week in port, and then steered northward. On
the 25th he captured one of the Peruvian cruisers, which, with an
English vessel, had seized two American whalers a few days before.[2]
Four days after, he recaptured the Barclay, one of the American
vessels taken by the Peruvians, and the British letter of marque.
Looking into Callao to see if any thing had arrived from Valparaiso
since he left, he cruised from island to island till the latter part
of April without making any prizes. At length, on the morning of the
29th, three sail were discerned and chase was immediately made for the
nearest, which soon struck. She was a British whaler with fourteen
hundred barrels of oil on board. It having fallen calm when the Essex
was yet eight miles distant from the other vessels, he was compelled
to resort to his boats to effect their capture. One of these, the
Georgiana, Captain Porter equipped as a cruiser, with sixteen guns,
and put her under the command of Lieutenant Downes, who soon started
on a cruise of his own.
[Footnote 2: The Peruvian Government supposed that Spain, as the ally
of England, would make common cause with her on this continent, and so
to be beforehand, fitted out cruisers against our commerce in the
Pacific.]
[Sidenote: June 24.]
These two vessels joined company again at Tumbez, the Essex in the
mean time having captured two large British vessels, and the Georgiana
three. The Atlantic, one of those taken by Porter, being a much larger
and faster ship than the Georgiana, Lieutenant Downes was transferred
to her, and she was christened Essex Junior. On the last day of June
this little fleet of nine sail put to sea, and on the 4th of July
fired a general salute with the enemy's powder. A few days after, the
Essex Junior parted company, steering for Valparaiso with all the
prizes but two in company. Porter continued his cruise with the
Georgiana and Greenwich, and on the 13th captured three more vessels.
The Greenwich behaved gallantly in the action, closing courageously
with the largest vessel, a cruiser, while the Essex was led away in
chase of the first. Porter soon after captured another whaler, when,
being joined by the Essex Junior, bringing information that the
Chilian government was assuming a more unfriendly attitude towards the
Americans, he resolved to proceed to the Marquesas to refit, and
return home. Having made the vessels of the enemy answer for a naval
depot, he now sought the bay of an island inhabited by savages, where
unseen he could prepare to retrace his voyage of ten thousand miles.
He made the Marquesas Islands on the 23d of October. Winding among
them to find a hiding-place secure as possible against English war
vessels that he heard had been sent out to capture him, he at length
dropped anchor in the sequestered bay of Novaheevah and took
possession of it in the name of the United States, naming it Madison
Island. In a short time the native women came swimming off naked to
the ship in crowds, and as they climbed up the vessel's sides, the
sailors, astonished at the novel spectacle, threw them their
handkerchiefs to cover their persons. Though swarthy, many of them
possessed beautiful forms and handsome features. Apparently wholly
unconscious of those feelings of modesty which seem innate in the sex,
they received with pride the advances of the men, and in a short time
every petty officer had chosen his wife, and the long and tedious
confinement on ship-board was exchanged for unbridled license.
A year before, Porter had sailed from the United States alone, with
only a few months' provisions on board, and in the mean time had taken
thirteen vessels and four hundred prisoners. With but a single
imperfect chart to direct him, he had boldly threaded the islands of
the Pacific, and swept it of nearly all the enemy's ships. His journal
of this long cruise reads more like a romance than a logbook, and
seems to belong to that class of literature in which Robinson Crusoe
and Captain Kidd figure as heroes. That frigate dropping down the
Delaware in October, the autumn previous, and now riding at anchor,
with a large fleet about her, in a deserted bay amid the Marquesas
Islands, presents a striking contrast, and shows what a single brave,
energetic, and skillful officer can accomplish.
In a short time those quiet waters resounded with the hammer of the
workmen, and were filled with the stir and activity of a civilized
port.
The nations were at first friendly, but those occupying the valley
where Porter had landed being at war with another tribe, the Happahs,
they insisted that he should make common cause with them against their
enemies. This, at last, for the sake of peace, he was compelled to do,
and sent a party of sailors, under Lieutenant Downes, to assist them
in their invasion of the enemy's territory. The hostile tribe had
assembled to the number of three or four thousand, but Downes soon
scattered them and returned with five dead bodies, which his allies
brought back in triumph, slung on poles.
In the mean time Captain Porter built a small village, consisting of
several houses, a bakery, and rope-walk, and erected a fort which he
mounted with four guns.
At length the Typees, a warlike tribe, succeeded in exciting the
friendly tribes to hostilities, and a plan was rapidly maturing to
murder the American crews. Presents and requests to induce them to
maintain a peaceful attitude, only increased their arrogance, and
Porter at last resolved to make them feel his power. Accompanied by
thirty-five sailors he advanced into their country, but the natives
avoided a combat and retired into the mountain fastnesses. The next
day he took nearly his whole crew and boldly entered the mountains,
whose bald tops swarmed with thousands of savages. But to his
surprise, he suddenly came to a wall seven feet high flanked with
impenetrable thickets. Behind this the Typees made a bold stand, and
hurled stones and arrows against their assailants. The volleys of the
Americans produced but little effect, and Porter discovering at length
that his ammunition was nearly exhausted, sent Lieutenant Gamble to
the boats for more, while he, with only nineteen sailors, maintained
his position. On the return of Gamble it was thought best to retreat,
and the whole took up their backward march. The savages, elated with
their victory, pressed forward in pursuit, when Porter gave them a
volley which killed two and wounded several more. Coming to a river,
the Americans heard the snapping of slings in the thickets on the
bank, and immediately after, a shower of stones fell among them, one
of which fractured the leg of Lieutenant Downes. Weary and
disappointed, they at length reached the boats. Here they rested till
night, when they were again ordered forward. The moon shone bright as
this little column slowly and painfully climbed the heights, from
whose summits arose the yells and songs of the savages. As the party
advanced, the sterile region grew more dreary and broken, and the
prospect ahead more disheartening. Now wading foaming torrents, and
again creeping along dizzy precipices, the astonished sailors,
unaccustomed to such labors, became exhausted, and many dropped down
amid the rocks unable to proceed further. At length the summit, from
which the valley of the Typees could be seen, was reached. But in the
mean time the sky had become overcast, the moon was obscured, and the
guide declared it would be impossible to descend in the darkness. They
therefore laid down, where they were, to wait for morning.
Those American sailors reposing on the top of the Typee mountain, in
that remote and almost unknown region, presented a novel spectacle. An
impenetrable gloom hung over the valley beneath, the sky spread like a
pall above them, while the dull, heavy roar of the Pacific, as its
billows broke in the darkness far below them, added to the strangeness
and romance of the scene. At length the gathering storm burst, and the
rain fell in torrents. It was a tropical shower--one of those deluges
of the skies, and in a few moments the little band was flooded with
water. Porter, fearing the ammunition would all be spoiled, bade
every man protect it with the utmost care. The Typees, assembled in
the valley below to the number of four or five thousand, appeared to
entertain the same expectations, for they began to shout and beat
their drums in exultation.
At length the long wished for day dawned--the storm had ceased, and as
the light crept down the sides of the mountain, a scene of surpassing
beauty presented itself. A valley nine miles long and three broad, lay
spread out before them, inclosed on every side by high mountains. At
the farther extremity arose a lofty precipice, over whose brink a
torrent rushed in a flying leap, and falling in foam at the base,
formed a stream, which, after winding tranquilly through the green and
lovely valley, passed, by an opening in the mountains, into the
Pacific, that, far away, rolled and glittered in the early dawn. All
over this sequestered plain were scattered the breadfruit and cocoa
trees, while picturesque villages of bamboo dotted it in every
direction. Amid these, immense crowds of swarthy men were moving, and
animals grazing, giving life and animation to the strange and
beautiful panorama.
Firing a volley, to let the enemy know his powder was not destroyed,
Porter began the difficult descent. The tortuous course he was
compelled to pursue made the journey long and tedious, and that night
he encamped in a village of friendly natives. The next morning he
moved on the Typee towns. The natives at first closed bravely with
him, but frightened by the musketry they soon retreated, followed by
the sailors. Retiring from village to village, they at last took
refuge in a strong fortress, against which small arms could have no
effect. Porter then began the work of destruction, and soon nine
villages were wrapt in fire. As the flames and smoke rolled up from
the plain, he began his backward march to the ships. At sunset he
stood again on the mountain where he had reposed the night before, and
looked down on the valley, but it was now a scene of desolation. The
smoke curling slowly up from the ruins revealed where the Typee towns
had stood, while around the smouldering ashes the inhabitants were
gathered in consternation and despair.
Porter reached his boats in safety, having marched sixty miles in all.
The sailors, unaccustomed to such land duty, were completely broken
down with the fatigue and exposure.
This novel expedition succeeded in humbling the hostile tribes, and
Porter had no further trouble with them while he remained.
The burning of these villages furnished the English papers a subject
for the exercise of their philanthropy. An act of self-preservation by
which a few empty wigwams were destroyed, aroused the humanity of
those who could see no cause of complaint in the conflagration that
lighted up the Niagara river from Buffalo to the falls, and kept the
Chesapeake in a glow from burning farm-houses and villages.
[Sidenote: Dec. 12, 1813.]
Leaving behind him three prizes under the protection of the fort he
had erected, Porter set sail for Valparaiso, where he arrived the 12th
of January. Although it was evident that the sympathies of the Chilian
government had changed, and were now entirely with the English, he
determined to wait at that port for the Phoebe, an English ship, which
he understood had been sent out on purpose to capture him. She at
length arrived, but not alone--the Cherub, a sloop of war bearing her
company. These vessels bore flags with the mottoes on them "God and
our country--British sailors' best rights--traitors offend them."
Porter immediately hoisted at his mizen, "God, our country and
liberty; tyrants offend them." The Essex could doubtless have made
good her voyage home, but Porter in capturing merchantmen and whalers
had done nothing in his own view to distinguish himself, and he longed
to grapple with this English ship of war. But the vast superiority of
these two vessels to his own and the Essex Junior, forbade a combat
unless he was forced into it.
When the Phoebe, commanded by Captain Hillyar, came into port she
passed close to the Essex with her men at quarters. Porter hailed
her, saying the vessels would get foul, and requesting the officers in
command to keep off. The English captain declared he had no intention
of provoking an action, but his conduct arousing the suspicion of
Porter he summoned the boarders. In the mean time the English vessel
being taken aback, passed her bows directly over the decks of the
Essex, and she lay exposed to a raking broadside from the latter, and
was for the time completely at her mercy. There is scarcely a doubt
that Captain Hillyar had orders to attack the Essex wherever he found
her, even if in a neutral port, and if the positions of the two
vessels had been reversed he would not have hesitated to demolish the
American frigate. The whole proceeding justified Porter in such a
construction, and his broadsides should have anticipated those of the
enemy, which soon after left him a wreck.
The English ships having taken in supplies, cruised outside for six
weeks, completely blockading the Essex. Porter saw that his vessel
could outsail the enemy, but he was not anxious to escape. He wished
if possible, notwithstanding his inferiority in men and weight of
metal, to engage the Phoebe alone. In this Captain Hillyar would not
gratify him. Once Porter got within range and opened his fire on the
Phoebe, but her gallant commander, though his vessel was a thirty-six,
while the Essex was a thirty-two, and his crew mustered one hundred
more men, refused the challenge and dropped nearly three miles astern
to close with her consort, the Cherub. This enraged Porter, for
Hillyar had hove to off port, and fired a gun to windward, which could
be interpreted in no other way than as a challenge.
The former so understood it, and immediately got under way, when his
adversary retired. Hillyar afterwards declared that the gun to
windward was a signal to the Cherub. It was doubtless a ruse practiced
to decoy the Essex into a chase till she could be assailed by both
vessels at once. There can be only one of two explanations to
Hillyar's conduct in this affair; he either was afraid to meet the
American frigate, though the latter was inferior in force, or his
instructions were not to hazard a single engagement.
Finding that his adversary was determined to avoid him, unless he
could close with both his vessels at the same time, and hearing that
other British cruisers were on the way, Porter resolved to put to sea,
and by tempting Captain Hillyar in pursuit, give the Essex Junior, a
slow sailer, an opportunity to follow. So on the 28th of March the
wind blowing fresh, he stood out of port. For awhile every thing
promised a safe exit, and an open sea, where he would have defied the
enemy. But in doubling the Point of Angels to clear the harbor, a
squall struck the vessel, carrying away her main-top-mast, and with
it several men, who were drowned. Unable to go to sea in this crippled
condition, and unable also to beat back to his former anchorage, he
passed to the north-eastern side of the harbor and dropped his anchor
within three miles of the town, a mile and a half from the Castello
Viego, and close in shore. He was on neutral ground, as much so by the
law of nations, as if under the guns of the castle, and where, in the
same circumstances, at the present day, no nation on the globe would
dare fire into an American frigate; and yet Captain Hillyar moved down
on her with both his vessels, chose his position, and opened his
broadsides. Only one of two measures was therefore left to the
American commander--strike his flag at once, or fight his ship to the
last. To conquer he knew was impossible, still he could not give up
his vessel without an effort, and he sternly ordered the decks cleared
for action.
The two English vessels, although they had chosen their own position,
were in a short time so cut up by the deadly aim of the gunners of the
Essex that they hauled off for repairs.
The state of affairs having got wind, thousands of spectators
assembled on the surrounding heights to witness the combat. Porter's
situation was well nigh hopeless, but he was one of those few men whom
desperate circumstances only stimulate to greater exertions. Fortune,
as if envious of his long success, seemed determined to crush him. Yet
he resolved that what adverse fate got out of him, should be on terms
that would cover him with more glory than ordinary success could
possibly do.
Captain Hillyar having completed his repairs, again took his position
where the Essex could not bring a gun to bear. Porter finding himself
a mere target on the water, determined if possible to board the
Phoebe. But his sheets and halyards had been so shot away that not a
sail could be set, except the flying jib. Giving this to wind and
cutting his cable, he drove slowly down on his foes, and when he got
them within range of his carronades, opened a terrible fire. The
cannonade on both sides was incessant and awful. The Essex on fire,
almost a wreck, and swept by the broadsides of two vessels, still bore
steadily down to close, but the Cherub hauled off, while the Phoebe,
seeing the advantage she possessed with her long guns, when out of the
reach of carronades, kept edging away. It was a painful spectacle to
behold, that crippled, dismantled ship, bravely limping up to grapple
with her powerful adversary, and that adversary as slowly moving off
and pouring in the while a ceaseless, murderous fire. Hulled at almost
every shot, her decks ripped up and strewed with the dead, her guns
torn from their carriages and rendered useless, it was evident that
noble frigate could not be fought much longer. Still Porter would not
strike his flag, and he resolved to run his vessel ashore and blow her
up. Her head was turned towards the beach, and he had got within
musket-shot of it, when the wind suddenly veered and blew him back on
the Phoebe and under her raking broadsides. Foiled in his first
effort, he now for a moment hoped to get foul and board the enemy, but
she kept away, raking the Essex as she retired. The scene on board the
frigate at this time was horrible. The cock-pit was crowded with the
wounded--men by the dozens were mowed down at every discharge--fifteen
had successively fallen at one gun, and scarcely a quarter deck
officer was left standing. Amid this scene of carnage and desolation,
Porter moved with a knit brow and gloomy heart. As he looked at his
crippled condition and slaughtered crew, he felt that he must submit,
but when he turned his eye to the flag of his country, still
fluttering at the mizen, he could not give the order to strike it. The
sympathies of the thousands of spectators that covered the hill-top
were with him--as they ever are with the brave. The American consul
hastened to the governor of the city and claimed the protection of the
batteries for the Essex, but in vain. It had, no doubt, been all
arranged beforehand between the authorities and the British commander.
Every thing, even the elements of nature, seemed combined against
this single ship. As a last resort, Porter let go his sheet anchor,
which brought the head of his vessel round so that his broadsides
again bore. A gleam of hope lighted up for a moment the gloom that
hung over his prospects, and walking amid his bleeding crew, he
encouraged the few survivors to hold on. The broadsides of the two
vessels again thundered over the bay, telling with frightful effect on
both vessels. But this last forlorn hope was snatched from the fated
frigate--the hawser parted in the strain, and she drifted an
unmanageable wreck on the water--while, to complete the horror of the
scene, the flames burst from the hatchways and rolled away towards the
magazine. Finding that his doom was now inevitably sealed, for his
boats had all been shot away, Porter ordered those of his crew who
could swim to jump overboard and make for the shore, three-quarters of
a mile distant. Some reached it, while the remainder who made the
attempt were either drowned or picked up by the enemy's boats. He
then, with the few who preferred to share his fate, extinguished the
fire, and again worked the guns that could be brought to bear. It was,
however, the last feeble effort of a dying giant. The enemy could now
fire more leisurely, and the water being smooth, he soon made a
perfect riddle of the Essex. The crew at last entreated their
commander to surrender--the contest was hopeless--the cock-pit,
ward-room, steerage, and berth-deck could contain no more wounded, who
were constantly killed while under the surgeon's hand. Of the
carpenter's crew not one remained to stop the shot-holes, through
which the water was pouring in streams, and the entire vessel was a
wreck. Porter would have sunk with his flag flying, but for the number
of wounded who would thus perish with him. For their sakes he finally
consented to surrender, and ordered the officers of the different
divisions to be sent for, but to his amazement only one was left to
answer his call,[3] while out of two hundred and fifty-five men only
seventy-five were left fit for duty. This unexampled and murderous
combat had lasted nearly two hours and a half, and he gave the
melancholy order to lower the flag. The enemy not at first observing
it, kept up his fire. Porter, thinking it was his intention to give no
quarter, was about to hoist his flag again, and go down with it
flying, when the firing ceased.
[Footnote 3: This was Stephen Decatur M'Knight. Lieut. Wilmer, after
fighting gallantly, was knocked overboard and drowned. The other
officers were badly wounded, and one, Lieut. Cowell, died soon after.]
A ship was never fought more bravely or skilfully, and Porter, though
compelled to surrender, earned imperishable renown, and set an example
to our navy, which if followed, will ensure its success, and cover it
with glory.
Captain Hillyar's conduct after the victory, was distinguished by a
courtesy and delicacy rarely witnessed in English commanders at that
time. But he was blameworthy in attacking a ship in a neutral port,
and it would not take many such victories to ruin his reputation. The
whole transaction shows what little respect England paid to the laws
of neutrality. The national heart was exceedingly shocked at the
violation of those laws by Napoleon when he seized the Duke D'Enghien,
but she could give orders, the execution of which did not cause the
death of merely one man, but more than one hundred brave spirits, on
neutral territory. The authorities of Valparaiso were also guilty of a
base act in not defending the rights of their own port, and extending
the protection required by the laws of nations to the American vessel.
[Sidenote: 1814.]
The Essex Junior was transformed into a cartel, and the prisoners sent
in her to the United States, on parole. She arrived off Sandy Hook the
5th of July, and though provided with passports from Captain Hillyar,
to prevent a recapture, she was overhauled and detained by the British
ship Saturn. Captain Nash, the commander, at first treated Porter very
civilly, endorsed his passports, and allowed the vessel to proceed.
Standing on the same tack with the Essex, he kept her company for two
hours, when he ordered the former to heave to again, and her papers
brought on board for re-examination. Porter was indignant at this
proceeding, but he was told that his passport must not only go on
board the Saturn, but the vessel itself be detained. He remonstrated,
declaring that it was in direct violation of the contract entered into
with Captain Hillyar, and he should consider himself a prisoner of
Captain Nash's, and no longer on parole, and at the same time offered
to deliver up his sword. On being told that the vessel must remain
under the lee of the Saturn all night, he said, "then I am your
prisoner, and do not feel myself bound any longer by my agreement with
Captain Hillyar." He withdrew his parole at once, declaring he should
act as he saw fit. The English captain evidently suspected some Yankee
trick was at the bottom of the whole proceeding, and as it usually
happened during the war, suspicion was aroused at precisely the wrong
times. English vessels had been so often duped by Yankee shrewdness
that they were constantly on the alert, and hence to be safe, often
committed blunders of a grave character. Porter, whether treading the
quarter-deck of his own vessel or a prisoner of war, was not a man to
be trifled with, and as a British officer had treated him basely, he
determined to be free of the obligations that galled him, at all
hazards, and the next morning finding that he was off Long Island, and
that Captain Nash had no idea of releasing him, he ordered a boat
lowered, into which he jumped with an armed crew, and pushed off. As
he went down the vessel's side, he told Lieutenant Downs to say to
Captain Nash, "that he was now satisfied that _most British naval
officers were not only destitute of honor, but regardless of the honor
of each other_; that he was armed and should fight any force sent
against him, to the last, and if he met him again, it would be as an
enemy." Keeping the Essex Junior between him and the British vessel,
he got nearly out of gun-shot before he was discovered. The Saturn
immediately gave chase, but a fog suddenly rising, concealed the boat,
when Porter changed his course and eluded his pursuers. Lieutenant
Downs, taking advantage of the same fog endeavored to escape with his
vessel, but the Saturn suspecting his movements, opened her guns,
which brought him to. Porter heard the firing, and kept off in an
opposite direction, and by rowing and sailing, alternately, for nearly
sixty miles, in an open boat, at length reached Babylon, on Long
Island. The people there discredited his story. Suspecting he was an
English officer in disguise, they began to question him, and he was
compelled to show his commission before they would let him go. When
their doubts were at length removed, every attention was lavished upon
him, and he started for New York. His arrival was soon spread abroad,
and as the carriage that contained him entered the city the horses
were snatched away, and the people seizing it, dragged him through the
streets with huzzas and shouts of welcome.
Porter had lost his ship, but not his place in the heart of the
nation, nay he was deeply and forever fixed there. His cruise had been
a great triumph, notwithstanding its disastrous close. The boldness
and originality of its conception--the daring and gallant manner in
which he had carried it out--the spirit and desperation with which he
had fought his ship against a superior force, were themes of universal
eulogy, and endeared him to the American people.
CHAPTER III.
Plan of the third Campaign -- Attack on Sackett's Harbor --
Attack on Oswego -- Woolsey transports guns to Sackett's
Harbor -- Capture of the detachment sent against him --
Expedition against Mackinaw -- Death of Captain Holmes --
Complete failure of the expedition.
While Porter was slowly approaching our coast, on his return from the
Pacific, events on our northern frontier were assuming an entirely
different aspect from that which they had worn for the last two years.
In the spring, just before and after Congress adjourned, small
expeditions on both sides were set on foot; one, on our part, to
Mackinaw, to aid in carrying out Armstrong's plan for the summer
campaign. This, like all the previous plans looked to the same result,
the details being varied apparently for the sole purpose of appeasing
the people, who it was thought, would not allow a repetition of those
manoeuvres which had ended in such signal disgrace. It was therefore
proposed, first to humble the Indians in the north-west, by capturing
Mackinaw, and thus hold the key of that whole region, so valuable for
its fur trade, and then march an army from the east of Lake Erie to
Burlington Heights, and seize and fortify that position till the
co-operation of the Ontario fleet and the troops at Sackett's harbor
could be secured, when a rapid advance might be made on Kingston, and
after its reduction, on Montreal. The Secretary clung to the conquest
of Canada with a tenacity that deserved success, but this plan also
utterly failed, and the progress of the campaign brought about results
widely different from those anticipated. That part of it looking to
the seizure of Mackinaw, was placed under the direction of Colonel
Croghan and Major Holmes, with whom Captain Sinclair, recently
appointed to the command of the upper lakes, was to co-operate with a
portion of his fleet--the other portion to aid in the expedition
against Burlington Heights. Major Holmes had at first been appointed
by the Secretary to command the land forces, but Colonel Croghan,
stationed at Detroit, and senior officer during Colonel Butler's
absence, denied the right thus directly to appoint him, insisting that
the commission should go through his hands. A correspondence followed,
which delayed the expedition till the third of July. In the mean time,
a British force, under Colonel McDowell, had visited and reinforced
all the posts on the northern lakes, penetrating even beyond Mackinaw.
While Holmes and Sinclair were detained till Colonel Croghan and the
Secretary could settle a question of etiquette, the English, who had
again acquired the ascendancy on Lake Ontario, by building more ships,
made an attack on Sackett's Harbor. Being repulsed, Sir James Yeo then
sailed for Oswego, to destroy materials for ship building, etc., which
he supposed to be assembled there. He arrived on the 5th of May, and
began to bombard the place. The American garrison at the fort,
consisted of three hundred men under Colonel Mitchell, with five guns,
three of which were almost useless. The place contained at that time,
but five hundred inhabitants. The schooner Growler being in the river,
and exposed to certain capture, was sunk, and her cannon transferred
to the fort, situated on a high bank east of the town.
Finding that the bombardment produced no effect, a large body of
troops, under General Drummond, was sent forward to carry the fort by
storm. The fifteen barges that contained them were led on by
gun-boats, destined to cover the landing. These no sooner came within
range of the artillery on shore, than a spirited fire was opened on
them, repulsing them twice, and finally compelling the whole flotilla
to seek the shelter of the ships. The next day the fleet approached
nearer shore, and commenced a heavy cannonade which lasted three
hours. Under cover of it, General De Watteville landed two thousand
troops, and advanced in perfect order over the ground that intervened
between the water and the fort. The soldiers and marines of the
Growler fought bravely, but Colonel Mitchell seeing that resistance
was hopeless, retired, scourging the enemy as he withdrew, with
well-directed volleys, and strewing the ground with more than two
hundred dead and wounded. He fell back to Oswego Falls, where the
naval stores had all been removed, destroying the bridges as he
retired. Foiled in their attempt to get possession of the stores, the
British, after having raised the Growler, retired to Sackett's Harbor,
and blockaded it, resolving to intercept the supplies, guns, etc.,
that were ready to be sent forward. Lighter materials could be
transported by land, but the guns, cables, and anchors, &c., destined
for two vessels recently built at Sackett's Harbor, could reach there
only by water, from Oswego, whither they had been carried by way of
the Mohawk river, Woods' creek, Oneida lake, and the Oswego river.
Captain Woolsey, a brave, skillful and energetic officer, who had been
appointed to take charge of their transportation, caused a rumor to be
spread that he designed to effect it through Oneida lake. [Sidenote:
May 28.] But soon as the British fleet left Oswego, he dropped down
the river with fifteen boats, loaded with thirty-four cannon and ten
cables. Halting at Oswego till dark, he then pulled out into the
lake. A detachment of a hundred and thirty riflemen accompanied him,
while a body of Oneida Indians marched along the shore. The night was
dark and gloomy--the rain fell in torrents, drenching sailors and
soldiers to the skin, while the waves dashed over the boats, adding to
the discomforts and labors of the voyage. It was a long and tedious
pull along the scarcely visible shores, on which swayed and moaned an
unbroken forest.
The next day at sunrise the fleet of boats reached Big Salmon river,
with the exception of one, which kept on, under the pretence of going
direct to Sackett's Harbor, and fell into the hands of the blockading
squadron, giving it information of the approach of the others.
Woolsey, knowing that he could not run the blockade, had resolved to
land his guns at Big Sandy creek and transport them by land eight
miles distant, to Sackett's Harbor. Having reached the mouth of the
creek in safety, he ascended two miles and landed. In the mean time
Sir James Yeo had dispatched two gun-boats, with three cutters and a
gig, in search of him. Finding the fleet had ascended Big Sandy creek,
Captains Popham and Spilsbury, who commanded the expedition, followed
after. The soldiers and marines were landed a mile or more below where
Woolsey was unloading, and moved forward, keeping parallel with the
gun-boats, which incessantly probed the thickets, as they advanced,
with grape shot. Major Appling, who commanded the American riflemen,
placed them and his Indian allies in ambush about half a mile below
the American barges. Allowing the enemy to approach within close
range, he suddenly poured in a destructive volley, which so paralyzed
them that they threw down their arms and begged for quarter. All the
boats, officers, and men were taken, making a total loss of a hundred
and eighty-six men.
The guns were then carried across to Sackett's Harbor, and the new
ship Superior armed, which so strengthened Chauncey's force that Sir
James Yeo raised the blockade and sailed for the Canada shore.
[Sidenote: July 3.]
At last the expedition against Mackinaw got under way. Two war brigs,
the Lawrence and Niagara, together with several smaller vessels,
carrying in all nine hundred men, began slowly to traverse the inland
seas from Detroit to Mackinaw. Nothing but canoes and batteaux had
hitherto floated on those scarcely known waters, with the exception of
a single schooner or sloop, which made an annual solitary trip to the
extreme north-western posts to carry supplies. More than a thousand
miles from the ocean, and lifted nearly six hundred feet above it,
those vast seas rolled their waves through unbroken forests. This was
the first fleet that ever penetrated those solitudes, through which
roamed unscared beasts of prey, and from whose further margin
stretched away those immense prairies that go rolling up to the base
of the Rocky Mountains. Amid unknown rocks and shoals--feeling its way
along narrow channels--at one moment almost grazing the sand-bars with
its keels, and the next moment floating over water nearly a thousand
feet deep--now traversing groups of beautiful islands, and anon
skirting the bases of precipices, on whose summit waved forests that
had stood undisturbed since the birth of time--that little fleet crept
on towards its destination. Its progress was so slow that Colonel
McDowell, commanding at Mackinaw, had ample time to make preparations
for defence.
Captain Sinclair, on his arrival, refused to advance against the fort,
for its batteries looked down on his decks from a hundred feet in the
air. A land attack was therefore resolved upon and carried into
execution. [Sidenote: Aug. 4.] But the dense woods, filled with sharp
shooters, through which the troops were compelled to force their way,
rendered the movement a complete failure. Captain Holmes, a gallant
officer, was shot by an Indian boy. A black servant of Colonel Croghan
immediately covered the body with leaves, to prevent mutilation by the
Indians, and the next day it was recovered. The troops were
re-embarked, and the discomfitted fleet turned homeward. Overtaken by
a storm in Lake Huron, all their boats were destroyed, and the vessels
themselves narrowly escaped being wrecked. A detachment having
destroyed six months' supplies at the mouth of the Natewasaga river
destined for Mackinaw, two schooners were left to blockade the place.
[Sidenote: Sept. 13.] Mackinaw, thus cut off from all communication
with the provinces, would be starved out and compelled to surrender.
But to complete the disaster of this unfortunate enterprise, four
batteaux, with a fleet of small boats from Mackinaw, surprised and
captured one of the schooners, the Tigress. Lieutenant Woolsey then
took command of her, and the next morning, with American colors
flying, stood steadily down on the Scorpion until he ranged alongside,
when he fired all his guns at once, and running aboard, took the
unsuspecting vessel without a struggle.
Thus ended an expedition, romantic from the scenery through which it
passed, but comparatively useless in its results, and costing more
than it was worth, even if it had been successful.
CHAPTER IV.
Brown takes command of the army at Niagara -- Crosses the
river into Canada -- Battle of Chippewa -- Brilliant charge
of the Americans -- Desperate battle of Niagara -- Conduct
of Ripley -- The army ordered to Fort Erie -- General Gaines
takes command.
[Sidenote: July 3.]
On the same day the expedition to Mackinaw sailed from Detroit, the
army which had been concentrated at Buffalo during the winter, crossed
the Niagara, in its third campaign against Canada. Brown, who had been
made Brigadier-General for his gallant conduct at Sackett's Harbor,
was afterward promoted to the rank of Major-General and given the
command of the army destined to act on the Niagara frontier. Two
regular brigades, commanded by Scott and Ripley, and a brigade of
volunteers and militia, with a few Indians, under General Porter,
composed his force. He was directed to carry out that portion of the
Secretary's plan which looked to the possession and fortification of
Burlington Heights, previous to a descent on Kingston and Montreal.
First, he was to seize Fort Erie, risk a combat with the enemy at
Chippewa, menace Fort George, and then, if Chauncey's fleet could
co-operate with him, advance rapidly on Burlington.
The two regular brigades had been subjected for three months to a new
and most rigid discipline. The system of tactics hitherto in use, had
been handed down from the Revolution, and was not, therefore, adapted
to the improved mode of warfare. Scott, here, for the first time,
introduced the French system. He drilled the officers, and they, in
turn, the men. So severe and constant was this discipline, that, in
the short space of three months, these brigades became intelligent,
steady, and invincible as veterans.
[Sidenote: July 3.]
The preparations being completed, the army crossed the Niagara river,
and took Fort Erie without a struggle. The main British army, under
General Riall, lay at Chippewa, towards which Scott pressed, heading
the advance, with his brigade, chasing before him for sixteen miles, a
detachment commanded by the Marquis of Tweesdale, who said he could
not account for the ardor of the pursuit until he remembered it was
the 4th of July, our great anniversary. At dark the Marquis crossed
the Chippewa, behind which lay the British army. This river enters the
Niagara nearly at right angles. Two miles farther up, Street's Creek
joins the Niagara also, and behind it Gen. Brown drew up the American
forces. Those two miles of interval between the streams was an open
plain, skirted on one side by the Niagara river and on the other by a
forest.
In the morning Gen. Brown resolved to advance and attack the British
in their position. The latter had determined on a similar movement
against the Americans, and unbeknown to each other, the one prepared
to cross the bridge of Chippewa, and the other that of Street's Creek.
The battle commenced in the woods on the left, and an irregular fight
was kept up for a long time between Porter's brigade and the Canadian
militia stationed there. The latter were at length driven back to the
Chippewa, when General Riall advanced to their support. Before this
formidable array, the American militia, notwithstanding the noble
efforts of General Porter to steady their courage, broke and fled.
General Brown immediately hastened to the scene, merely saying to
Scott as he passed on, "The enemy is advancing, you will have a
fight." The latter, ignorant of the forward movement of Riall, had
just put his brigade in marching order to cross the creek for a drill
on the level plain beyond. But as the head of the column reached the
bank, he saw the British army drawn up in beautiful array in the open
field, on the farther side, while a battery of nine pieces stood in
point blank range of the bridge over which he was to cross. Swiftly
yet beautifully the corps of Scott swept over the bridge and deployed
under the steady fire of the battery. The first and second battalions
under Majors Leavenworth and McNeil, took position in front of the
left and centre of the enemy, while the third, under Jessup, obliqued
to the left to attack their right, stationed in the woods, and which
threatened to outflank the American line. It was a bright, hot July
afternoon, the dusty plain presented no obstacle behind which either
party could find shelter, and the march of the steady battalions over
its surface led on by bands of music, playing national airs, presented
one of those stirring scenes which make man forget the carnage that is
to follow. The heavy monotonous thunder of Niagara rolled on over the
discharges of artillery, while its clouds of spray rising from the
strife of waters, and glittering in the sunbeams, contrasted strangely
with the sulphurous clouds that heaved heavenward from the conflict of
men beneath.
Both armies halting, firing, and advancing in turn, continued to
approach until they stood within eighty yards of each other. Scott who
had been manoeuvering to get the two battalions of Leavenworth and
M'Neil in an oblique position to the British line, at length
succeeded, the two farther extremities being nearest the enemy. Thus
the American army stood like an obtuse triangle of which the British
line formed the base. While in this position, Scott, wishing to pass
from one extremity to the other and being in too great a hurry to go
back of the lines _around_ the triangle, cut directly across, taking
the cross fire of both armies, as he spurred in a fierce gallop
through the smoke. A loud cheer rolled along the American line as they
saw this daring act of their commander. Riding up to Towson's battery,
he cried out, "a little more to the left, captain, the enemy is
there." This gallant officer was standing amid his guns, enveloped in
smoke, and had not observed that the British had advanced so far that
his fire fell behind them. Instantly discovering his mistake, he
changed the direction of his two remaining pieces and poured a raking,
destructive fire through the enemy's ranks, blowing up an ammunition
wagon, which spread destruction on every side. At this critical
moment, Scott rode up to M'Neil's battalion, his face blazing with
excitement, and shouted, "The enemy say that we are good at long shot
but cannot stand the cold iron. I call upon the Eleventh _instantly to
give the lie to that slander--Charge_."
Just as the order "charge," escaped his lips, came that destructive
fire from Towson's battery. The thunder of those guns at that critical
moment, was to Scott's young and excited heart like the shout of
victory, and rising in his stirrups and swinging his sword aloft, he
cried, "CHARGE, CHARGE THE RASCALS." With a high and ringing cheer,
that gallant battalion moved with leveled bayonets on the foe. Taking
the close and deadly volleys without shrinking--never for a moment
losing its firm formation, it struck the British line obliquely,
crumbling it to pieces, as it swept on and making awful havoc in its
passage.
Leavenworth did the same on the right with like success, while Jessup
in the woods, ignorant how the battle was going in the plain, but
finding himself outflanked, ordered his troops "to support arms and
advance." They cheerfully obeyed and in the face of a most deadly fire
charged home on the enemy, and obtaining a better position poured in
their volleys with tremendous effect. From the moment these charges
commenced, till the enemy fled, the field presented a frightful
spectacle. The two armies were in such close proximity, and the
volleys were so incessant and destructive, and the uproar so terrific
that orders could no longer be heard. But through his two aids
Lieutenants Worth and Watts, who galloped to and fro, and by their
presence and gestures transmitted his orders in the midst of the
hottest fire, Scott caused every movement to be executed with
precision, and not an error was committed from first to last.
The enemy fled over the Chippewa, tore up the bridge and retired to
his encampment.
The sun went down in blood and the loud voice of Niagara which had
been drowned in the roar of battle, sounded on as before, chaunting a
requiem for the gallant dead, while the moans of the wounded loaded
the air of the calm summer evening.
Nearly eight hundred killed and wounded, had been stretched on the
earth in that short battle, out of some four thousand, or one-fifth of
all engaged.[4] A bloodier battle, considering the numbers, was scarce
ever fought. The British having been taught to believe that the
American troops would give way in an open fight, and that the resort
to the bayonet was always the signal of victory to them, could not be
made to yield, until they were literally crushed under the headlong
charge of the Americans.
[Footnote 4: The British were 2100 strong. American troops actually
engaged, 1900.
British killed 138. Wounded and missing 365. Americans killed 68.
Wounded and missing 267.]
Gen. Brown, when he found that Scott had the whole British army on his
hands, hurried back to bring up Ripley's brigade; but Scott's
evolutions and advance had been so rapid, and his blow so sudden and
deadly, that the field was swept before he could arrive.
M'Neil's battalion had not a recruit in it, and Scott knew when he
called on them to give the lie to the slander, that American troops
could not stand the cold steel, that they would do it though every man
perished in his footsteps.
Maj. Leavenworth's battalion, however, embraced a few volunteers, and
among them a company of backwoodsmen, who joined the army at Buffalo a
few days before it was to cross the Niagara.
An incident illustrating their character, was told the writer's father
by Maj. Gen. Leavenworth himself. Although a battle was expected in a
few days, the Major resolved in the mean time to drill these men.
Having ordered them out for that purpose, he endeavored to apply the
manual; but to his surprise, found that they were ignorant of the most
common terms familiar even to untrained militia. While thus puzzled
with their awkwardness, Scott rode on the field, and in a sharp voice
asked Maj. Leavenworth if he could not manage those soldiers better.
The Major lifting his chapeau to the General, replied, that he wished
the General would try them himself. The latter rode forward and issued
his commands--but the backwoodsmen instead of obeying him, were
ignorant even of the military terms he used. After a few moments'
trial, he saw it was a hopeless task, and touching his chapeau in
return to Leavenworth, said, "Major, I leave you your men," and rode
off the field. The latter, finding that all attempts at drill during
the short interval that must elapse before a battle occurred, would
be useless, ordered them to their quarters. On the day of the battle
he placed them at one extremity of the line, where he thought they
would interfere the least with the manoeuvres of the rest of the
battalion. He said that during the engagement, this company occurred
to him, and he rode the whole length of his line to see what they were
about. They were where he had placed them, captain and all, obeying no
orders, except those to advance. Their ranks were open and out of all
line; but the soldiers were cool and collected as veterans. They had
thrown away their hats and coats, and besmeared with powder and smoke
were loading and firing, each for himself. They paid no attention to
the order to fire, for the idea of "shooting" till they had good aim
was preposterous. The thought of running had evidently never crossed
their minds. Fearless of danger, and accustomed to pick off squirrels
from the tops of the loftiest trees with their rifle-balls, they were
quietly doing what they were put there to perform, viz., kill men, and
Maj. Leavenworth said there was the most deadly work in the whole
line. Men fell like grass before the scythe. Not a shot was thrown
away--ten men were equal to a hundred firing in the ordinary way.
The American army rested but two days after the battle, and then
advanced over the Chippewa, Scott's brigade leading. The British
retreated to Burlington Heights, near the head of Lake Ontario.
Thither Brown resolved to follow them. But on the 25th, while the army
was resting, preparatory to the next day's battle, word was brought
that a thousand English troops had crossed the river to Lewistown, for
the purpose, evidently, of seizing our magazines at Fort Schlosser,
and the supplies, on the way to the American camp, from Buffalo. In
order to force them to return, Brown resolved immediately to threaten
the forts at the mouth of the Niagara river, and in twenty minutes,
Scott, with a detachment of twelve hundred men, was on the march. He
had proceeded but two miles, when he came in sight of a group of
British officers on horseback, evidently reconnoitering. The force to
which they belonged lay behind a strip of wood, which prevented him
from seeing it. Supposing it, however, to be the fragments of the army
he had so terribly shattered at Chippewa, he ordered the march to be
resumed. But as he cleared the road he saw before him an army of two
thousand men drawn up in order of battle. He paused a moment at this
unexpected sight, and his eye had an anxious look as it ran along his
little band. To retreat would endanger the reserve marching to his
relief, and destroy the confidence of the troops. Besides, Scott never
had, and never has since, learned _practically_, what the word
"retreat" meant. He determined, therefore, hazardous as it was, to
maintain the unequal contest till the other portion of the army
arrived. Despatching officers to General Brown with directions to ride
as for life, he gave the orders to advance. The sun, at this time, was
but half an hour high, and unobscured by a cloud, was going to his
lordly repose behind the forest that stood bathed in his departing
splendor. Near by, in full view, rolled the cataract, sending up its
incense towards heaven, and filling that summer evening with its voice
of thunder. The spray, as it floated inland, hovered over the American
army, and as the departing sunbeams struck it, a rainbow was formed,
which encircled the head of Scott's column like a halo--a symbol of
the wreath of glory that should adorn it forever.
The British, two thousand strong, were posted just below the Falls, on
a ridge at the head of Lundy's Lane. Their left was in the highway,
and separated from the main body by an interval of two hundred yards,
covered with brushwood, etc. General Drummond had landed a short time
before with reinforcements, which were rapidly marching up to the aid
of Riall. Scott, however, would not turn his back on the enemy, and
gallantly led in person his little army into the fire. His bearing and
words inspired confidence, and officers and men forgot the odds that
were against them. Major Jessup was ordered to fling himself in the
interval, between the British centre and left, and turn the latter.
In the mean time the enemy discovering that he outflanked the
Americans on the left, advanced a battalion to take them in rear. The
brave McNeil stopped, with one terrible blow, its progress, though his
own battalion was dreadfully shattered by it. Jessup had succeeded in
his movement, and having gained the enemy's rear, charged back through
his line, captured the commanding general, Riall, with his whole
staff. When this was told to Scott, he announced it to the army, and
three loud cheers rang over the field. A destructive discharge from
the English battery of seven pieces, replied.
It was night now, and a serene moon rose over the scene, but its light
struggled in vain to pierce the smoke that curtained in the
combatants. The flashes from the battery that crowned the heights, and
from the infantry below, alone revealed where they were struggling.
Scott's regiments were soon all reduced to skeletons--a fourth of the
whole brigade had fallen in the unequal conflict. The English battery
of twenty-four-pounders and howitzers, sent destruction through his
ranks. He, however, refused to yield a foot of ground, and heading
almost every charge in person, moved with such gay spirits and
reckless courage through the deadliest fire, that the troops caught
the infection. But the British batteries, now augmented to nine guns,
made frightful havoc in his uncovered brigade. Towson's few pieces
being necessarily placed so much lower, could produce but little
effect, while the enemy's twenty-four-pounders, loaded with grape,
swept the entire field. The eleventh and twenty-second regiments,
deprived of their commanders, and destitute of ammunition were
withdrawn, and Leavenworth, with the gallant ninth, was compelled to
withstand the whole shock of battle. With such energy and superior
numbers did the British press upon this single regiment, that it
appeared amid the darkness to be enveloped in fire. Its destruction
seemed inevitable, and in a short time one-half of its number lay
stretched on the field. Leavenworth sent to Scott, informing him of
his desperate condition. The latter soon came up on a gallop, when
Leavenworth pointing to the bleeding fragment of his regiment, said,
"Your rule for retreating is fulfilled," referring to Scott's maxim
that a regiment might retreat when every third man was killed. Scott,
however, answered buoyantly, cheered up the men and officers by
promising victory, and spurring where the balls fell thickest,
animated them by his daring courage and chivalric bearing to still
greater efforts. Still he could not but see that his case was getting
desperate, and unless aid arrived soon, he must retreat. Only five or
six hundred of the twelve hundred he at sunset had led into battle,
remained to him.
General Brown, however, was hurrying to the rescue. The incessant
cannonading convinced him that Scott had a heavy force on his hands;
and without waiting the arrival of a messenger, he directed Ripley to
move forward with the second brigade. Meeting Scott's dispatch on the
way, he learned how desperate the battle was, and immediately directed
Porter with the volunteers to hurry on after Ripley, while he, in
advance of all, hastened to the field of action. The constant and
heavy explosions of artillery, rising over the roar of the cataract,
announced to the excited soldiers the danger of their comrades; and no
sooner were they wheeled into marching order than they started on a
trot along the road. Lieut. Riddle, who was off on a scouring
expedition in the country, paused as he heard the thunder of cannon,
and waiting for no dispatch, gave orders to march, and his men moving
at the _charge de pas_, soon came with shouts on the field. At length
the head of Ripley's column emerged into view, sending joy through
those gallant regiments, and a loud huzza rolled along their line.
Brown, seeing that Scott's brigade was exhausted, ordered Ripley to
form in advance of it. In the mean time, Drummond had arrived on the
field with reinforcements, swelling the English army to four thousand
men. At this moment there was a lull in the battle, and both armies
prepared for a decisive blow. It was evident the deadly battery on
the heights must be carried, or the field be lost, and Brown, turning
to Colonel Miller, asked him if he could take it. "I WILL TRY, sir,"
was the brief reply of the fearless soldier, as he coolly scanned the
frowning heights. Placing himself at the head of the 21st regiment, he
prepared to ascend the hill. Major M'Farland with the 23d was to
support him. Not having arrived on the field till after dark, he was
ignorant of the formation of the ground or the best point from which
to commence the ascent. Scott, who had fought over almost every foot
of it since sunset, offered to pilot him. Passing by an old church and
grave-yard, that showed dimly in the moonlight, he took the column to
the proper place, and then returned to his post. In close order and
dead silence the two regiments then moved straight for the battery. It
was by their heavy muffled tread that General Drummond first detected
their approach. But the moment he caught the dark outlines of the
swiftly advancing columns he turned his battery upon them with
terrific effect. The twenty-third staggered under the discharge, but
soon rallied and pressed forward. Smitten again, it reeled backward
down the hill; but the twenty-first never faltered. "Close up, steady,
men!" rung from the lips of their leader, and taking the loads of
grape-shot unshrinkingly into their bosoms, they marched sternly on,
their bayonets gleaming red in the fire that rolled in streams down
the slope. Every explosion revealed the whole hill and that dark
column winding through flame and smoke up its sides. At length it came
within range of musketry, when the carnage became awful; but still on
through the sheets of flame, over their dead comrades, this invincible
regiment held its stubborn course towards the very vortex of the
battle. The English gazed with amazement on its steady advance. No
hesitation marked its movement; closing up its ranks after every
discharge, it kept on its terrible way, till at last it stood face to
face with the murderous battery, and within a few steps of the
gunners. A sudden flash, a deafening explosion, and then "_Close up,
steady, charge_," rung out from the sulphurous cloud that rolled over
the shattered regiment, and the next instant it swept with a thrilling
shout over guns, gunners, and all. The struggle became at once close
and fierce,--bayonet crossed bayonet,--weapon clashed against
weapon,--but nothing could resist that determined onset. The British
were driven down the hill, and the remnants of that gallant regiment,
together with M'Farland's, which had again rallied, formed between the
guns and the foe. Ripley then moved his brigade to the top of the
hill, in order to keep what had been so heroically won.
Stung with rage and mortification at this unexpected defeat, Drummond
resolved to retake that height and his guns, cost what it might; and
soon the tread of his advancing columns was heard ascending the slope.
With their uniforms glittering in the bright moonlight, the excited
troops came on at the charge step, until within twenty yards of the
American line, when they halted and delivered their fire. "Charge"
then ran along the line, but the order had scarcely pealed on the
night air before they were shattered and torn into fragments by the
sudden and destructive volley of the Americans. Rallying, however,
they returned to the attack, and for twenty minutes the conflict
around those guns was indescribably awful and murderous. No sounds of
music drowned the death-cry; the struggle was too close and fatal.
There were only the fierce tramp and the clash of steel,--the stifled
cry and wavering to and fro of men in a death-grapple. At length the
British broke, and disappeared in the darkness. General Ripley again
formed his line, while Scott, who had succeeded in getting a single
battalion out of the fragments of his whole brigade, was ordered to
the top of the hill.
In about half an hour the sound of the returning enemy was again
heard. Smote by the same fierce fire, Drummond with a desperate effort
threw his entire strength on the centre of the American line. But
there stood the gallant twenty-first, whose resistless charge had
first swept the hill; and where they had conquered they could not
yield. Scott in the mean time led his column so as to take the enemy
in flank and rear, and but for a sudden volley from a concealed body
of the enemy, cutting his command in two, would have finished the
battle with a blow. As it was, he charged again and again, with
resistless energy, and the disordered ranks of the British for the
second time rolled back and were lost in the gloom. Here Scott's last
horse fell under him, and he moved on foot amid his battalion. Jessup
was also severely wounded, yet there he stood amid the darkness and
carnage, cheering on his men. The soldiers vied with the officers in
heroic daring and patient suffering. Many would call out for muskets
as they had none, or for cartridges as theirs were all gone. On every
side from pallid lips and prostrate bleeding forms came the reply,
"take mine, and mine, my gun is in good order, and my cartridge box is
full." There was scarcely an officer at this time unwounded; yet, one
and all refused to yield the command while they could keep their feet.
Jessup's flag was riddled with balls, and as a sergeant waved it amid
a storm of bullets, the staff was severed in three places in his hand.
Turning to his commander he exclaimed as he took up the fragments,
"Look, colonel, how they have cut us." The next moment a ball passed
through his body. But he still kept his feet, and still waved his
mutilated standard, until faint with loss of blood he sunk on the
field.
After being driven the second time down the hill, the enemy for a
while ceased their efforts, and sudden silence fell on the two armies,
broken only by the groans of the wounded and dying. The scene, and the
hour, combined to render that hill-top a strange and fearful object in
the darkness. On one side lay a wilderness, on the other rolled the
cataract, whose solemn anthem could again be heard pealing on through
the night. Leaning on their heated guns, that gallant band stood
bleeding amid the wreck it had made. It was midnight--the stars looked
quietly down from the sky--the summer wind swept softly by, and nature
was breathing long and peacefully. But all over that hill lay the
brave dead, and adown its sides in every direction the blood of men
was rippling. Nothing but skeletons of regiments remained, yet calm
and stern were the words spoken there in the darkness. "_Close up the
ranks_," were the heroic orders that still fell on the shattered
battalions, and they closed with the same firm presence and dauntless
hearts as before.
It was thought that the British would make no further attempts to
recover their guns, but reinforcements having arrived from Fort
George, they, after an hour's repose and refreshment, prepared for a
final assault. Our troops had all this time stood to their arms, and
faint with hunger, thirst, and fatigue, seemed unequal to a third
conflict against a fresh force. But as they heard the enemy advancing,
they forgot their weariness and met the onset firmly as before. But
this time the ranks of the enemy did not yield under the fire that
smote them--they pressed steadily forward, and delivering their
volleys as they advanced, at length stood on the summit of the hill,
and breast to breast with the American line. The conflict now became
fearful and more like the murderous hand-to-hand fights of old than a
modern battle. Battalions on both sides were forced back till the
ranks became mingled. Bayonet crossed bayonet and men lay transfixed
side by side. Hindman, whose artillery had been from the first served
with surpassing skill, found the enemy amid his guns, across which he
was compelled to fight them.
The firing gave way to the clash of steel, the blazing hill-top
subsided into gloom, out of which the sound of this nocturnal combat
arose in strange and wild confusion.
Scott, charging like fire at the head of his exhausted battalion,
received another severe wound which prostrated him--but his last words
to Leavenworth were, "_Charge again!_" "Charge again, Leavenworth!" he
cried, as they bore him, apparently dying, from that fierce foughten
field. General Brown, supported on his horse, and suffering from a
severe wound, was slowly led away. Jesup was bleeding from several
wounds; every regimental officer in Scott's brigade was killed or
wounded. _Only one soldier out of every four stood up unhurt._ The
annals of war rarely reveal such a slaughter in a single brigade, but
it is rarer still a brigade has such a leader. The ghosts of regiments
alone remained, yet before these the veterans of England were at last
compelled to flee, and betake themselves to the darkness for safety.
Sullen, mortified, and badly wounded, Drummond was carried from the
field, and all farther attempts to take the hill were abandoned. The
Americans, however, kept watch and ward, around the cannon that had
cost them so great a sacrifice, till near daybreak, when orders were
received to retire to camp. No water could be obtained on the heights,
and the troops wanted repose. Through the want of drag-ropes and
horses, the cannon were left behind. This was a sad drawback to the
victory, and Major Ripley should have detailed some men to have taken
at least the lightest ones away. Trophies won with the blood of so
many brave men were worth more effort than he put forth to secure
them.
A bloodier battle, in proportion to the numbers engaged, was never
fought than this. Nearly eight hundred Americans, and as many English,
had fallen on and around that single hill. It was literally loaded
with the slain. Seventy-six officers were either killed or wounded
out of our army of some three thousand men, and not a general on
either side remained unwounded.
Among the slain was young Captain Hull, son of the General who had so
shamefully capitulated at Detroit. This young officer, who had fought
one duel in defence of his father's honor, and struggled in vain to
shake off the sense of disgrace that clung to him, told a friend at
the opening of the battle, that he had resolved to fling away a life
which had become insupportable. When the conflict was done, he was
found stark and stiff where the dead lay thickest.
It would be impossible to relate all the deeds of daring and gallantry
which distinguished this bloody engagement. Almost every man was a
hero, and from that hour England felt a respect for our arms she had
never before entertained. The navy had established its reputation
forever, and now the army challenged the respect of the world. The
timorous and the ignorant had been swept away with the old martinets,
and the true genius of the country was shining forth in her young men,
who, while they did not despise the past, took lessons of the present.
Scott at this time, but twenty-eight years of age, had shown to the
country what a single youth, fired with patriotism, confident in his
resources, and daring in spirit, could accomplish. His brigade, it is
true, had been almost annihilated, and nothing apparently been
gained; but those err much who graduate the results of a battle by the
number taken prisoners or the territory acquired. Moral power is
always more valuable than physical, and though we are forever
demanding something tangible to show as the reward of such a great
effort and sacrifice, yet to gain a national position is more
important than to take an army. Thus while many think that the battle
of Niagara, though gallantly fought, was a barren one, and furnished
no compensation for the great slaughter that characterized it, yet
there has been none since that of Bunker Hill, more important to this
country, and which, directly and indirectly, has more affected its
interests. It probably saved more battles than if, by stratagem or
superior force, General Brown had succeeded in capturing Drummond's
entire army.
Brown and Scott both being disabled, the command devolved on Major
Ripley, who retired behind the Chippewa, and the defences recently
erected by the British. Scott's last wound was a severe one. A musket
ball had shattered his shoulder dreadfully, and for a long time it was
extremely doubtful whether he ever recovered. He suffered excruciating
pain from it, and it was September before he ventured to travel, and
then slowly and with great care. His progress was a constant ovation.
The young and wounded chieftain was hailed on his passage with salvos
of artillery, and shouts of freemen. He arrived at Princeton on
commencement day of Nassau Hall. The professors immediately sent a
delegation requesting his attendance at the church. Leaning on the arm
of his gallant aid-de-camp, Worth--his arm in a sling, and his
countenance haggard and worn from his long suffering and confinement,
the tall young warrior slowly moved up the aisle, and with great
difficulty ascended the steps to the stage. At first sight of the
invalid, looking so unlike the dashing, fearless commander, a murmur
of sympathy ran through the house, the next moment there went up a
shout that shook the building to its foundations.
Passing on to Baltimore, then threatened with an attack by the
British, he finally so far recovered as to take command in the middle
of October of the tenth military district, and established his
headquarters at Washington City.
General Brown was indignant with General Ripley for leaving the cannon
behind, and peremptorily ordered him to reoccupy the heights of
Lundy's Lane at daybreak, and remain there till the dead were buried
and the guns removed. He however did not commence his march till after
sunrise, and then being told that the enemy were in possession of the
heights, he halted, and finally retired to Chippewa.
This officer, on whom the command had devolved since the battle,
seemed from the first opposed to all the movements. When the army was
about to cross the river against Riall, he not only strongly condemned
the proceeding, but even offered his resignation, which was not
accepted. By his neglect to remove, or attempt to remove the captured
guns, which had cost such a heroic struggle, and his after delay to
return and take them, it would seem as if he were offended that such
brilliant results had followed a course which had met with his strong
disapprobation. He was an able officer and a brave man, yet his heart
was not in this movement of Brown's, consequently he did not go into
combat with the enthusiasm of Scott, Miller, and Jesup, nor feel so
elated by the victory.
Soon after, a rumor was spread that Drummond was marching on the
American camp. Although occupying a strong position, Ripley
immediately ordered a retreat to the ferry opposite Black Rock, with
the intention of recrossing the river into the limits of the United
States. This sudden determination, founded on a mere rumor, can hardly
be accounted for, except on the supposition that he could not be
contented till the army was back to the place it started from, and
whence it never would have moved had he been commander-in-chief. He
was prevented from carrying out this purpose by the earnest
remonstrances of McCrea and Wood, who scorned to flee so ignominiously
from the field of their fame. Ripley then left the army and hastened
to Buffalo, to obtain Brown's consent to the measure. The wounded hero
was enraged that the commanding officer should contemplate such a
virtual confession of defeat--rebuked him, and ordered the division to
remain at Fort Erie, and fortify and defend it to the last extremity.
He also sent a dispatch to General Gaines, commanding at Sackett's
Harbor, to repair at once to the army at Fort Erie, and take command
of both.
CHAPTER V.
Siege of Fort Erie -- Assault and repulse of the British --
Brown takes command -- Resolves to destroy the enemy's works
by a sortie -- Opposed by his officers -- The sortie --
Anecdote of General Porter -- Retreat of Drummond -- Conduct
of Izard.
[Sidenote: Aug. 3.]
Gaines, immediately on his arrival at Fort Erie, set about
strengthening the works, so that when Drummond actually invested it,
he found it in a good state of defence.
In the mean time, the English commander hearing that Brown's magazine
had been removed from Schlosser to Buffalo, dispatched Colonel Tucker
to the latter place, with twelve hundred men, to seize them. But Brown
anticipating such a movement, had stationed Major Morgan, with a
battalion of riflemen, at Black Rock, to meet and repel it. This
vigilant and gallant officer thwarted every attempt of the British to
advance, and compelled them reluctantly to return.
A night expedition sent to cut out three small American vessels at
anchor in the river, succeeded better--two of them being surprised and
captured.
[Sidenote: Aug. 13.]
Having completed his trenches and erected his batteries, Drummond, on
the 13th, opened his fire. Shot and shells were incessantly hurled all
that and the succeeding day against the fort without materially
weakening its strength. The British commander then resolved to carry
it by assault. The garrison was composed of about 2500 men, while the
force under Drummond was estimated at four thousand. As night
approached, and the cannonading ceased, General Gaines observed a
commotion in the British camp, and suspecting that preparations were
making for an assault, ordered one third of the garrison to stand to
their arms all night.
Drummond had resolved to assail the works in three separate strong
columns, of from twelve to fifteen hundred men each, moving
simultaneously against three separate points. One against Towson's
battery, occupying the extreme north-east angle of the fortifications;
a second against the right, and the third full on the fort itself. The
day had been stormy, with torrents of rain deluging the earth, and the
night set in dark and dismal. The watch fires of the enemy's camp
could scarcely be discerned through the gloom, and dead silence
reigned over both encampments. Hour after hour wore slowly away, till
midnight came, and yet no sound but the moaning of the wind as it
swept over the water and the woods, broke the stillness.
At length about two o'clock in the morning, the muffled tread of the
advancing columns was distinctly heard in the darkness. The one
directed against Towson's batteries near the water, came first within
range, when a tremendous fire opened upon it. In an instant, the whole
scenery was lit up by the blaze of the guns, which threw also a red
and baleful light over the serried ranks, pressing with fixed bayonets
to the assault. Although Towson kept his batteries in fierce play, and
sheets of flame went rolling on the doomed column, it kept resolutely
on till it approached within ten feet of the infantry. But its
strength was exhausted; it could stagger on no farther; and first
wavering, it then halted, and finally recoiled. Rallied to a second
attack, it advanced with loud shouts, only to be smitten with the same
overwhelming fire. Encouraged to a third effort, it swerved from the
direct assault, and endeavored to wade around an abattis of loose
brushwood, that stretched from the batteries to the shore. Pressing
forward, up to their arm-pits in the water, some few reached the
enclosure within, but only to perish, and the remainder retreated. The
column advancing against the right battery, commanded by Douglas, was
allowed to approach within fifty yards, when such a rapid and wasting
fire was poured upon it, that it recoiled in confusion. The central
column, led on by Lieutenant-Colonel Drummond, pressed firmly and
rapidly through the fire of Hindman's guns, applied their ladders to
the walls, and began to mount. Repulsed, they made a second and third
desperate effort to reach the parapets, but without success. Stubborn
and brave, this officer was resolved not to abandon the attempt, and
favored by the darkness, led his troops quietly along the ditch to a
point where no assault was expected, and applying his ladders, mounted
to the top of one of the bastions. Enraged by his successive repulses,
and maddened by the slaughter of his troops, this intrepid but brutal
leader no sooner gained the parapet than he cried out "give the damned
Yankees no quarter." The latter instantly closed on him with a
sternness and ferocity that made that single bastion swim in blood.
Carrying out his own inhuman orders, Drummond shot Lieutenant
Macdonough as he lay prostrate and wounded, bravely beating off the
soldiers who refused his cry for quarter. The next instant the
barbarous act was avenged by a soldier, who shot him dead in his
footsteps. The troops, however, courageously maintained the advantage
they had gained, till daylight, when some cartridges in a stone
building near by, catching fire by accident, exploded with a
tremendous concussion, lifting the platform of the bastion from its
bed, and hurling the shattered and affrighted occupants of it to the
ground. A disorderly flight followed, and the British troops withdrew
to their encampment.
General Drummond, however, did not abandon the siege, but sat down
before the fort with a stronger determination than ever to reduce it.
General Gaines being wounded by a shell, now retired to Buffalo,
leaving Ripley in command. When the state of affairs was reported to
General Brown, he saw at once that another and heavier assault would
soon be made, and though his wounds were yet unhealed, repaired to the
fort, and assumed the command. [Sidenote: Sept. 2.] The brave Jessup
with his arm in a sling, and still suffering from his wounds,
volunteered his services, and every preparation was made for a
desperate resistance.
Owing to the sickness of Commodore Chauncey the co-operation expected
from the fleet had entirely failed, so that the brilliant victories of
the summer, on the Niagara frontier, had not advanced the original
plan of the campaign, and the American army instead of marching to
Burlington Heights, and thence on Kingston, was compelled to stand on
the defensive. Commodore Chauncey was a gallant and skillful
commander, and had reduced his crews to a state of discipline rarely
equaled. But he lay sick in Sackett's Harbor till the 2d of July, and
then was carried on board his ship. His arrival near [Sidenote: Aug.
5.] Niagara was too late to be of any service to the army shut up in
Fort Erie, and he cruised in the lake, blockading Yeo in Kingston, and
striving in vain to bring him to an engagement. It was no fault of his
that Ontario was not signalized by a victory equal to that on Lake
Erie.
General Izard, after sitting on the court-martial of Wilkinson, was
appointed to take command of the northern army at Plattsburg.
[Sidenote: May 4.] He was an accomplished officer, but like his
predecessors, too much of a martinet to effect any thing with
irregular troops. He fell a victim to military rules, which, in the
changing, disorderly army under his command, could not be applied. Cut
adrift from them he knew not what to do. A thoroughly-educated
officer, he became a slave to his knowledge, and without the genius to
create resources, or skill to mould and apply the materials that
surrounded him, he made matters worse by grumbling. Quarrels, duels
among the officers, desertion, the mixture of black and white
recruits, misrule, and bad appointments, discouraged and disgusted him
with the army he commanded. In the mean time, the arrival of fresh
troops from England rendered some movement necessary, and Izard, at
the head of seven thousand men, such as they were, was ordered to
Sackett's Harbor, to plan an attack on Kingston, if circumstances
rendered it prudent, or succor General Brown. Leaving three thousand
under Macomb, at Plattsburgh, he with the remainder took up his sulky
and discontented march for Sackett's Harbor, where he arrived on the
13th of September. Three days previously, Brown wrote him from Fort
Erie, imploring his assistance, saying unless it was rendered
speedily, the fate of his army was doubtful. The accounts, however,
which he received of the dilatory manner in which Izard marched, and
of the feelings he entertained, left him no hope from that quarter,
and he said, "We must, if saved, do the business ourselves." He fell
back on himself, and his little band resolved to defend the fort to
the last, against whatever force might be brought against it. Weak
from his wounds, he yet toiled day and night to strengthen his
defences. Neither his sickness, nor the torrents of rain that fell
almost daily, could deter him from exertion, and by his energy and
bearing he diffused an air of cheerfulness and confidence amid and
around those entrenchments, which are always the forerunner of great
deeds. Having ascertained what formidable preparations were making to
press the siege, he resolved not to wait their completion, but with
one bold sortie overwhelm the batteries of the enemy and destroy their
works. A council of officers was called, to whom he submitted his
plans. Their decision was adverse, which chagrined him much; he was
also annoyed to find himself opposed by his next in command. He,
nevertheless, was determined to carry out his purpose, and said to
Jesup, "We must keep our own counsels; the impression must be made
that we are done with the affair; _but as sure as there is a God in
heaven the enemy shall be attacked in his works, and beaten, too, as
soon as all the volunteers shall have passed over_." These were
rapidly coming in at the call and efforts of General Porter, who was
worthy to command them, and with whom they knew no disgrace could
occur.
General Brown having made himself perfectly acquainted with the
position and designs of the enemy, quietly matured his own plans.
Drummond's army, four thousand strong, was encamped in an open field
surrounded by a forest, two miles distant from his entrenchments in
order to be out of reach of the American cannon. One-third of this
force protected the artillerists in completing their batteries and the
workmen in digging trenches and erecting blockhouses.
Two batteries were at length completed and a third nearly
finished--all mounted with heavy cannon, one being a sixty-eight
pounder--before the sortie was made. For four days previous Brown
tried the effect of his artillery upon these works, and during the
whole of the thirteenth and fourteenth a tremendous cannonading was
kept up in the midst of a pelting storm. The two succeeding days the
firing continued at intervals, interspersed with conflicts between the
pickets. [Sidenote: Sept. 17.] The next day at noon, an hour when such
an attempt would be least expected, Brown resolved to make a sortie
with nearly the whole of his disposable force, capture the batteries,
spike the cannon, and overwhelm the brigade in attendance before the
other two brigades, two miles distant, could arrive. The assault was
to be made in two columns. The left composed of Porter's volunteers,
Gibson's riflemen, a portion of the 1st and 23rd regiments of regulars
and some Indians was directed to march along a road which had been cut
through the woods, while the gallant Miller with the first brigade was
to move swiftly along a deep ravine that run between the first and
second batteries of the enemy, and the moment he heard the crack of
Porter's rifles, mount the ravine and storm the batteries. It was a
dark and sombre day--the clouds flew low, sending down at intervals
torrents of rain and giving to the whole scenery a sour and gloomy
aspect. But everything being ready, Brown, about ten o'clock, opened
with his artillery, and for two hours it was an incessant blaze and
roar all along the line of the entrenchments. Its cessation was the
signal for the two columns to advance. General Ripley commanded the
reserve, while Jesup with a hundred and fifty men held the fort
itself. Porter with his column surprised and overthrew the enemy's
pickets, and began to pour in rapid volleys on his flank. Miller no
sooner heard the welcome sound than he gave the order to charge. In an
instant the brigade was on the top of the bank, and without giving the
enemy time to recover from their surprise the troops dashed forward on
the entrenchments in front of them. Though assailed so unexpectedly
and suddenly the enemy fought gallantly to save the works which had
cost them so much labor. The contest was fierce but short. Carrying
battery after battery at the point of the bayonet, the victorious
Americans pressed fiercely on till all the batteries and the labor of
nearly fifty days were completely in their possession. Ripley then
hastened up with the reserve to form a line for the protection of the
troops while the work of destruction went on; while executing the
movement he was wounded in the neck and carried back to the fort.
In the mean time, Drummond aroused by the first volleys, had hurried
off reinforcements on a run. Pressing forward through the rain, urged
to their utmost speed by the officers pointing forward with their
swords to the scene of action, they, nevertheless, arrived too late to
prevent the disaster. In an hour the conflict was over; yet in that
short space of time the work of demolition had been completed. In the
midst of incessant volleys and shouts and the rallying beat of the
drum, heavy explosions shook the field and magazines and block houses
one after another blew up, spreading ruin and desolation around.
In that short combat more than four hundred of the enemy had fallen,
and nearly as many more been taken prisoners. The American loss was
three hundred killed and wounded; among the slain, however, were the
gallant Wood and Gibson. The bayonet and sabre were wielded with
terrible effect in the strife.
General Porter in passing with a few men from one detachment to
another, during the engagement, suddenly found himself in the presence
of sixty or eighty British soldiers drawn up in the woods, and
apparently not knowing what to do. Thinking it better to put a bold
face on the matter, he ran up to them, exclaiming, "That's right, my
good fellows, surrender and we will take care of you!" and taking the
musket out of the hands of the first and flinging it on the ground he
pushed him towards the fort. In this way he went nearly through the
first line, the men advancing unarmed in front. At length a soldier
stepped back and presented the point of his bayonet to General
Porter's breast, and demanded _his_ surrender. A scuffle ensued, and
some officers coming to the rescue of the soldier Porter was flung
upon the ground and his hand cut with a sword. On recovering his feet
he saw himself surrounded by twenty or thirty men, shouting to him to
surrender. He very coolly told _them_ to surrender, and declared if
they fired a gun he would have the whole put to the sword. In the mean
time a company of American riflemen coming up, fired upon the English.
After a short fight the whole were killed or taken prisoners.
Having accomplished his work, Brown retired in good order within the
fort. Drummond, weakened by nearly one-fourth of his force, and the
labors of so long a time being destroyed, raised the siege and retired
behind the Chippewa.
General Izard, who was to fall on his rear, did not reach Lewistown
till the 5th of October. [Sidenote: Oct. 14.] At length, forming a
junction with Brown's troops, he moved forward, and sat down before
Drummond encamped, behind the Chippewa. His army, six thousand strong,
was deemed sufficiently large to capture the enemy, and this event was
confidently expected to crown the Canadian campaign. [Sidenote: Oct.
21.] But after some faint demonstrations, not worth recording, he
seven days after retired to Black Rock, preparatory to winter
quarters. Although pressed by the Secretary of War to attack the
enemy, he declined, and having spent the summer in grumbling, went
sullenly into winter quarters, thus closing the list of inefficient
commanders, which threatened for awhile never to become complete.
While Izard was thus ending a military career in which he had gathered
no laurels, Macomb, whom he had left at Plattsburgh, doomed as he said
to destruction, had crowned himself with honor, and shed lustre on the
American arms.
CHAPTER VI.
British plan of invading our sea ports -- Arrival of
reinforcements -- Barney's flotilla -- Landing of the enemy
under Ross -- Doubt and alarm of the inhabitants -- Advance
of the British -- Destruction of the Navy Yard -- Battle of
Bladensburg -- Flight of the President and his Cabinet --
Burning and sacking of Washington -- Mrs. Madison's conduct
during the day and night -- Cockburn's brutality -- Sudden
explosion -- A hurricane -- Flight of the British -- State
of the army -- Character of this outrage -- Rejoicings in
England -- Mortification of our ambassadors at Ghent --
Mistake of the English -- Parker's expedition -- Colonel
Reed's defence -- The English army advance on Baltimore --
Death of Ross -- Bombardment of Fort McHenry -- "The star
spangled banner" -- Retreat of the British, and joy of the
citizens of Baltimore.
But while these events were passing around Niagara--in the interval
between the assault on Fort Erie by Drummond and the successful sortie
of Brown--a calamity overtook the country, which fortunately resulted
in producing more harmony of feeling among the people, and
strengthened materially the administration. Washington was taken and
sacked by the enemy. The overthrow of Napoleon and his banishment to
Elba, enabled England to send over more than 30,000 troops, which were
soon on our sea-board or in the British Provinces. New England no
longer remained excluded from the blockade, and the whole Atlantic
sea-board was locked up by British cruisers. The Constitution, the
year previous, after a cruise in which she captured but a single war
schooner and a few merchantmen, was chased into Marble Head, from
whence she escaped to Boston. The blockading of our other large ships,
and the destruction of the Essex about the same time in the Bay of
Valparaiso, had left us without a frigate at sea. The Adams, a sloop
of twenty-eight guns, was the largest cruiser we had afloat.
Hitherto the enemy had been content with blockading our seaports, and
making descents on small towns in their neighborhood, but as the
summer advanced, rumors arrived of the preparation of a large force,
destined to strike a heavy blow at some of our most important cities.
To meet this new danger the President addressed a circular letter to
the States, calling on them to hold in readiness 93,500 militia.
Fearing that Washington or Baltimore might be the points at which the
enemy would first strike, the tenth military district was erected, as
mentioned before, and General Winder, recently released by exchange,
given the command of it.
The whole sea-board was in a state of alarm--even Massachusetts caught
the infection, and preparations were immediately made to defend her
seaports and protect her coast. The militia of the different States
were called out--Governor Barbour, of Virginia, garrisoned Norfolk,
the intrenching tools were busy night and day around Baltimore,
Providence voted money for fortifications, Portland shipmasters formed
themselves into a company of sea fencibles, and gun-boats were
collected in New York and all the great northern ports. The notes of
alarm and preparation rang along the coast from Maine to Louisiana,
and before the mysterious shadow of the gigantic coming evil, party
animosities sunk into insignificance. Released from her Continental
struggle, England, with her fleets that had conquered at Aboukir,
Trafalgar, and Copenhagen, and her troops fresh from the fields of
Spain, had resolved to fall upon us in her power, and crushing city
after city, leave us at length without a seaport, from the Merrimack
to the Mississippi. Even the brilliant victories of Chippewa and
Lundy's Lane could not dispel the terror inspired by this gathering of
her energies.
But the first serious demonstration was made in the Chesapeake. To act
against the fleet a flotilla was placed there under the charge of
Captain Barney, a bold and skillful officer. Constantly on the alert,
he would dash suddenly out of the Patuxent River, and roughly handling
the light vessels of the enemy that approached the shallow waters,
compel them to take refuge under the guns of the frigates. But the
river at length became blockaded, and the flotilla was compelled to
run up into Leonard's Creek. From the 1st to the 26th of June,
frequent skirmishes took place, in which Captain Barney exhibited a
daring, skill and prudence combined, which proved him to be an able
commander. On the 26th he attacked the British vessels in the river,
and after a sharp cannonade of two hours, drove them into the bay, and
broke up the blockade.
[Sidenote: Aug. 14.]
At length Admiral Cochrane arrived from Bermuda, in an eighty gun
ship, bringing with him three thousand troops, commanded by General
Ross. Entering the Chesapeake he joined Rear Admiral Cockburn, who by
this timely reinforcement found himself in command of twenty-three
vessels of war. This imposing fleet stood slowly up the waters of the
Chesapeake, sending consternation among the inhabitants of Washington
and Baltimore. [Sidenote: Aug. 21.] Cockburn, designed by nature for a
freebooter, was admirably fitted for the work he had designed to do.
Landing four thousand five hundred troops at Benedict, he began to
advance up the Potomac. Barney, acting under instructions he had
received, immediately took four hundred men and fell back to the Wood
Yard, where he joined what was called the army. He had left five or
six men in each boat, to blow them up, should the enemy advance. That
night, about one o'clock, the President, with the Secretaries of War
and Navy, visited Winder's camp, and next morning reviewed the troops.
The camp was in confusion. Citizens and soldiers intermingled--each
giving his opinion of the course to be pursued--disordered ranks and
loud and fierce talking--the utter absence of the quiet demeanor and
military precision characteristic of a regular army, gave to the one
assembled there the appearance of a motley crowd on a gala day.
General Smith and Barney, however, seemed to understand themselves,
and were anxious to advance and attack the enemy.
At the first appearance of the fleet Winder had sent off for the
militia, but none had yet arrived. Six hundred from Virginia were
reported close at hand--fourteen hundred from near Baltimore had
reached Bladensburg, whither, also, was marching a picked regiment
from the city itself, led by Pinckney, recently our Embassador to
England. The whole country was filled with excited men, hurrying on
foot or on horseback from one army and place to another--some without
arms and others in citizens' dress, with only swords or pistols. The
President and Cabinet were also in the saddle, riding by night and
day, yet all without definite object. Rumor had swelled the invading
force to twelve thousand men, but whether its destination was
Washington, Baltimore, or Annapolis, no one could tell.
While affairs were in this excited, disorderly state around
Washington, great uncertainty reigned in the British camp. It was a
hot day when the troops landed, and the sight of neat farm-houses,
rich fields, and green pastures, seemed to increase the lassitude
occasioned by their long confinement on ship-board, rather than
invigorate them, and it required the exercise of rigid authority and
unceasing care to keep them from straggling away to the cool shelter
of trees. Weighed down with their knapsacks and three days'
provisions, and sixty rounds of ball cartridge--without cavalry, and
with only one six-pounder and two three-pounders drawn by a hundred
seamen, this army of invasion took up its slow and cautious march
inland on Sunday afternoon, and reached Nottingham that night.
[Sidenote: Aug. 21.] They found the village wholly deserted--not a
soul was left behind, while the bread remaining in the ovens, the
furniture standing just as it had last been used, showed that the
flight had been sudden and the panic complete.
At this time the object of the expedition was the destruction of
Barney's flotilla, which had so harassed and injured the lighter
vessels of the fleet.
Next morning at eight o'clock the army took up its line of March, and
soon entered a cool, refreshing forest. But they had traversed scarce
half its extent, when Ross was filled with anxiety and alarm by
frequent and loud explosions, like the booming of heavy artillery, in
the distance. Officers were immediately hurried off to ascertain the
cause, who soon returned with the welcome and unexpected intelligence
that the Americans were blowing up their own flotilla.
The first and chief object of the invasion being secured, Ross halted
his column at Marlborough, only ten miles from Nottingham, and sent
for Cockburn, who, with a flotilla, was advancing up the river "_pari
passu_," to advise with him what course to pursue. The admiral
proposed to march on Washington. To this Ross at first objected, for
to pierce a country of which he was ignorant fifty miles, with no
cavalry or heavy artillery, seemed a rash undertaking, especially
when, in a military point of view, success would accomplish
comparatively nothing. Cockburn, however, who had been on the coast
longer, and through informants residing in the city, had become
acquainted with its defenceless state, persuaded him that its capture
would be easy, and the results glorious. The taking of a nation's
capital certainly seemed no mean exploit, while the heavy ransom the
government would doubtless pay to save its public buildings, would
compensate Cockburn for lack of prize money at sea.
It was not, however, till next noon that the army, preceded by a
company of a hundred blacks, composed of fugitive slaves, began to
advance. After making a few miles, it halted for the night.
The Secretary of War had insisted from the first that Washington was
not the point threatened, and still adhered to that opinion. He could
not conceive that an experienced commander would select as the first
object of attack a town of some nine hundred houses, scattered over a
surface of three miles, and destitute of wealth, while the opulent
cities of Baltimore and Annapolis lay so near. This, too, was the
opinion of many others, creating great confusion, and preventing the
selection of strong positions, where successful stands could have been
made.
While the British were thus slowly advancing, General Winder was
riding hither and thither, now making a reconnoissance in person, now
posting to Washington to rouse the Secretary of War out of his
lethargy, or hurrying on foot back again to his army, doing every
thing but restoring tranquillity and order. Confusion in the
camp--disorder in the ranks--consternation among the inhabitants, and
gloom and doubt in the cabinet, combined to render the three days the
British were marching on Washington, a scene of extraordinary
excitement and misdirected efforts.
[Sidenote: Aug. 24.]
At length, videttes and scouts, coming in quick succession, announced
that the British army was approaching Bladensburg, where General
Stansbury, with the Baltimore militia, was encamped. There was not a
breath of air, and the column staggered on through a cloud of dust,
and under a sweltering August sun. The soldiers, exhausted, reeled
from the ranks and fell by the road side, while many others could
scarcely drag their weary limbs along. The American troops were busy
cooking their dinner when the drums beat to arms, announcing the
approach of this much dreaded army.
When the news reached Winder, he immediately transmitted an order to
Stansbury to give battle where he was, and hastened thither with the
main army, arriving just before the action commenced. Barney, who had
been stationed with five hundred men at the bridge over the eastern
branch of the Potomac, with directions to blow it up should the enemy
approach by that route, no sooner heard of his advance on Bladensburg,
than he earnestly requested to repair thither with his brave seamen.
He chafed under the inaction to which he was doomed, talking in a
boisterous manner, half to himself and half to others, lashing the
generals with the bluntness and truth of a sailor, saying, loud
enough to be heard by the President and his cabinet standing near, it
was absurd to leave him there with five hundred men to blow up a
bridge which any "d----d corporal could better do with five." At
length permission was given him to join the army, when he leaped on a
horse, and ordering his seamen to follow, galloped to Bladensburg. The
advance was already engaged, and he immediately sent back to his men
to hurry up, and soon the brave and panting fellows appeared on a trot
and took their stand beside their commander. The President and his
cabinet galloped thither also, but retired at the commencement of the
action, not before, however, Monroe, Secretary of State, had tried his
hand at military evolutions, and altered the order of battle.
Instead of taking advantage of patches of woods, thickets, etc., where
inexperienced militia would have fought well, this heterogeneous army
of five or six thousand men was arranged in the form of a semi-circle
on the slope that makes up westward from the eastern branch of the
Potomac, here a shallow stream and crossed by a wooden bridge. The
British, supposing of course, that the position was chosen because it
commanded a narrow bridge, the passage of which is always so difficult
in the face of batteries, never dreamed the river could be forded, and
therefore never attempted it. Ross, who from the top of the highest
house in the neighborhood surveyed the American army, was disconcerted
at the formidable appearance it presented--posted on such a commanding
eminence with heavy artillery,--and would doubtless have retreated but
for the greater danger of a retrogade movement with his exhausted
troops.
The American army was arranged in three lines like regiments on a
parade, connected by the guns that could pour no cross fire on the
assailing column. The latter advancing steadily, throwing Congreve
rockets as they approached, so shook the courage of the militia that
it required but the levelled gleaming bayonet to scatter them like
sheep over the field. Many of the officers were brave men and strove
to arrest the panic, but in vain. Pinckney with a broken arm rode
leisurely out of the battle, his heart filled with rage and
mortification at the poltroonry of those under his command.
The details of the engagement are useless--there was a show of
resistance and some well sustained firing for awhile; but the whole
battle, so far as it can be called one, was fought by Barney. He had
planted four guns, among them an eighteen pounder, so as to sweep the
main road, and quietly sat beside them on his bay horse, allowing the
column to come within close range before he gave orders to fire. The
first terrible discharge cleared the road. Three times the British
endeavored to advance in front, and as often were swept to destruction
by that battery. At length they were compelled to abandon the attempt,
and taking shelter under a ravine filed off to the right and left and
assailed Barney in flank and rear. Driving easily before them the
regiments whose duty it was to protect the artillery, they moved
swiftly forward. Barney's horse had been shot under him and he
himself, prostrated by a wound, lay stretched in the road. Seeing that
the battle was lost, he bade his seamen cut their way through the
enemy and escape. Reluctant at first to obey him, they at last fled,
and their gallant commander was taken prisoner. A few such determined
men would have saved Washington from the flames.
The six hundred Virginians who had hastened to the rescue never joined
the army at all. Having arrived without arms, they slept in the House
of Representatives all night and were not equipped next day till the
battle was over.
The _retreat_ became a wild and shameful flight. No other stand was
made, and the fugitive army fled unpursued in squads hither and
thither. It was a regular stampede. The fields and roads were covered
with a broken and flying multitude. President, secretaries of war and
navy, attorney-general and all were borne away in the headlong
torrent; and though the enemy had no cavalry to pursue, and the
infantry were too tired to follow up their success, the panic was so
complete and ridiculous that our troops never stopped their flight
except when compelled to pause from sheer exhaustion. Fatigue, not the
interval they had put between themselves and the enemy, arrested their
footsteps. Only fifty or sixty had been killed on our side, while the
British had lost several hundred, a large portion of whom fell under
the murderous discharges of Barney's battery.
After the shouts and derision of the enemy had subsided with the
disappearance of the last fugitive over the hills, the tired army
instead of advancing to Washington reposed on the field of battle.
Winder endeavored to rally the troops at the capital for another
defence, but not a sufficient number could be found to make a stand,
and with curses and oaths the rabble rout streamed along the road to
Georgetown, presenting a picture of demoralization and insubordination
that formed a fit counterpart to their poltroonry.
The first arrival of the fugitives, officers and citizens, riding
pell-mell through the streets, carried consternation into the city,
and the inhabitants, some on foot, some in carts or carriages, rushed
forth, and streaming on after the frightened militia completed the
turbulence of the scene.
Cockburn and Ross leaving the main army to repose itself, took a
body-guard and rode into Washington. No resistance was offered--a
single shot only was fired, which killed the horse of General Ross.
The house from which it issued was formerly occupied by Mr. Gallatin.
In a few moments it was in flames. Halting in front of the capitol,
they fired a volley at the edifice and took possession of it in the
name of the king.
The troops were then marched in, and entering the Hall of
Representatives, piled together chairs, desks and whatever was
combustible, and applied the torch. The flames passing from room to
room, soon wrapped the noble library, and bursting forth from the
windows leaped to the roof, enveloping the whole edifice in fire and
illuminating the country for miles around. The house of Washington and
other buildings were also set on fire. The remaining British force,
lighted by the ruddy glow that illumined the landscape and the road
along which they were marching, entered the city to assist in the work
of destruction. In the mean time, the navy-yard was set on fire by
order of the secretary of war, mingling its flames and explosions with
the light and roar of the burning capitol. The gallant officer in
command of it had offered to defend it, but was refused permission.
Whether the refusal was discreet or not, one thing is certain, the
enemy could have accomplished no more than the destruction of the
materials collected there, and it was not worth while to save them the
labor.
The capitol being in flames, Ross and Cockburn led their troops along
Pennsylvania Avenue to the President's house, a mile distant, and soon
the blazing pile beaconed back to the burning capitol. The Treasury
building swelled the conflagration, and by the light of the flames
Cockburn and Ross sat down to supper at the house of Mrs. Suter, whom
they had compelled to furnish it. Pillage and devastation moved side
by side through the streets, while to give still greater terror and
sublimity to the scene, a heavy thunder storm burst over the city.
From the lurid bosom of the cloud leaped flashes brighter than the
flames below, followed by crashes that drowned the roar and tumult
which swelled up from the thronged streets, making the night wild and
appalling as the last day of time.
To bring the day's work to a fitting close, Cockburn, while the
heavens and surrounding country were still ruddy with the flames,
entered a brothel and spent in lust and riot a night begun in
incendiarism and pillage.
[Illustration: Burning of Washington.]
While these things were transpiring in the city, the President and his
Cabinet were fleeing into Virginia. During the battle of
Bladensburg, Mrs. Madison had sat in the Presidential mansion,
listening to the roar of cannon in the distance, and anxiously
sweeping the road, with her spy-glass, to catch the first approach of
her husband, but saw instead, "groups of military, wandering in all
directions, as if there was a lack of arms or of spirit, to fight for
their own firesides." A carriage stood waiting at the door, filled
with plate and other valuables, ready to leave at a moment's warning.
The Mayor of the city waited on her, urging her to depart, but she
bravely refused, saying she would not stir till she heard from her
husband. At length a note from him, in pencil-marks, arrived, bidding
her flee. Still delaying, till she could detach a portrait of
Washington, by Stuart, from the wall, her friends remonstrated with
her. Finding it would take too long to unscrew the painting from the
walls, she seized a carving-knife, and cutting the canvas out, hurried
away. At Georgetown she met her husband, who, with his Cabinet, in
trepidation and alarm, was en route for Virginia. Just as the flames
were kindling in the capitol, the President, Mr. Monroe, Mr. Rush, Mr.
Mason, and Carroll, were assembled on the shores of the Potomac, where
but one little boat could be found to transport them over. Desponding
and sad, they were rowed across in the gloom, a part at a time, and
mounting their horses, rode hurriedly and sadly away. Mrs. Madison
returned towards Georgetown, accompanied by nine troopers, and stopped
ten miles and a half from the town. Trembling from the anxiety and
fright of the day--separated from her husband, now a fugitive in the
darkness--oppressed with fears and gloomy forebodings, she sat down by
an open window, and through the tears that streamed from her eyes,
gazed forth on the flames of the burning city, and listened with
palpitating heart to the muffled shouts and tumult that rose in the
distance.
Before daylight, she, with her lady companions, started for a place of
rendezvous appointed by her husband, sixteen miles from Georgetown.
The 25th of August dawned gloomily over the smouldering city, and the
red sun, as he rolled into view, looked on a scene of devastation and
ruin. From their drunken orgies, negroes and soldiers crawled forth to
the light of day, roused by the reveille from the hill of the capitol,
and the morning gun that sent its echoes through the sultry air.
Rising from his debauch, Cockburn sallied forth to new deeds of shame.
The War office, and other public offices, among them the building of
the National Intelligencer, were set on fire, and the pillage and riot
of the preceding day again sent terror through the city. The gallant
admiral seemed refreshed rather than enervated by the plunder,
conflagration and debauch of the night that had passed, and brilliant
and witty as the day before, "was merry in his grotesque rambles about
Washington, mounted on a white, uncurried, long switch-tail brood
mare, followed by a black foal, neighing after its dam, in which
caricature of horsemanship that harlequin of havoc, paraded the
streets, and laughed at the terrified women imploring him not to
destroy their homes. "Never fear," said he, "you shall be much safer
under my administration than Madison's." "Be sure," said he to those
who were destroying the types of the National Intelligencer, "that all
the C's are demolished, so that the rascals can no longer abuse my
name as they have done."[5]
[Footnote 5: Vide Ingersoll, vol. II, page 189.]
In the midst of this wanton destruction and barbarian licentiousness,
two events occurred calculated to sober even a more brutal man than
he. A detachment had been sent to destroy two rope-walks, at a place
called Greenleaf's point, a short distance from the city. After they
were burned, an officer threw the torch with which the buildings had
been lighted, into a dry well near by. But this well had been made for
a long time the repository of useless shells, cartridges and
gunpowder. The unextinguished torch ignited this subterranean
magazine, which exploded with a violence that shook the earth, and
sent dismembered bodies and limbs, mingled with fragments of iron,
and dust and smoke, heavenward together. When it cleared away, nearly
a hundred officers and men were seen strewed around, some killed,
others presenting torn, misshapen masses of human flesh. The sad
procession, carrying the mutilated and dead back to the city, had
scarcely reached it before the heavens became dark as twilight, and
that ominous silence which always betokens some dreadful convulsion of
nature fell on the earth. The air was still, and the burning dwellings
around shed a baleful light over the faces of men, on which sat terror
and perplexity. This portentous silence was broken by the rush and
roar of a hurricane, that swept with the voice and strength of the
sea, over the devastated city. Flashes of lightning rent the gloom,
and the thunder rolled and broke in deafening crashes over head. The
flames leaped up into fiercer glow, under the strong breath of the
tempest; private dwellings that had escaped the incendiary's torch
were stripped of their roofs, and the crash of falling, walls and
shrieks of terrified men and women fleeing through the streets,
imparted still greater terror to the appalling spectacle. The British
army, on the Capitol hill, was rent into fragments before it, and
scattered as though a magazine had exploded in its midst. Thirty
soldiers, besides many of the inhabitants, were overwhelmed in the
ruins.
Fleeing before this same hurricane, Mrs. Madison approached the tavern
designated by the President as the place where he would meet her, but
was refused admittance by the terrified women within, who had also
fled thither, because she was the wife of the man who had involved
them in those horrors of war, made still more terrible by the
visitation of God. He, in thus turning day into night, had evinced his
displeasure, and foretold his judgments; and not until an entrance was
forced by the men, would they allow her a shelter from the storm.
There her husband, the fugitive President of the republic, drenched
with rain, hungry and exhausted, joined her in the evening. Provided
with nothing but a cold lunch, he retired to his miserable couch, not
knowing what tidings the morning would bring him.
In the mean time General Ross, chagrined at the part he had been
compelled to play--filled with self-reproaches at the wanton
destruction of a public library, was anxious and unquiet at the
non-arrival of the boats that had accompanied him to Alexandria. In
constant fear of an uprising of the people of the country, he was
eager to get back to the ships. As soon therefore as night set in, he
resolved to commence his retreat. To prevent pursuit, an order was
issued prohibiting the appearance of a single inhabitant in the street
after eight o'clock. At nine, in dead silence, and with quick step,
as though stealing on a sleeping foe, the advance column took up its
march and passed unnoticed out of the city. The camp fires on the hill
of the capitol were kept blazing, and piled with fuel sufficient to
preserve them bright till near morning, in order to convey the
impression that the army was still there, and at a late hour the rear
column followed after, and silently and rapidly traversed the road to
Bladensburg. Not a word was spoken, not a man allowed to step out of
his place. Arriving on the ground which had been occupied by other
brigades, they found it deserted, but the fires were still blazing as
though the encampment had not been broken up. Approaching the field of
Bladensburg, they saw in the white moonbeams the whiter corpses of the
unburied dead, who had been stripped of their clothing and now lay
scattered around on the green slope and banks of the stream where they
had fallen. The hot August rain and sun had already begun to act on
the mutilated flesh, and a horrible stench loaded the midnight air.
Stopping there for an hour, to enable the soldiers to hunt up their
knapsacks thrown aside the day before, Ross again hurried them
forward, and kept them at the top of their speed all night. If the
column paused for a moment, the road was instantly filled with
soldiers fast asleep. Men were constantly straggling away, or falling
into slumbers, from which even the sword could with difficulty prick
them, and the army threatened to be disorganized. It therefore became
necessary to halt, and the order to do so had scarcely passed down the
line before every man was sound asleep, and the entire army in five
minutes resembled a heap of dead bodies on a field of battle. Resting
here under the burning sun until midday, Ross then resumed his march
and reached Marlborough at night, and the next day proceeded leisurely
back to the ships.
The raid had been successful--Washington was sacked. Two millions of
property had been destroyed--the capitol, with its library--the
President's house--the Treasury and War, Post offices, and other
public edifices, burned to the ground, together with five private
dwellings, thirteen more being pillaged. These, with the destruction
of the office of the National Intelligencer, two rope-walks, and a
bridge over the Potomac, constituted the achievements of this
redoubtable army of invasion.
The English press, which had teemed with accounts of Napoleon's
barbarity, and the English heart, which had heaved with noble
indignation against the man who could rob the galleries of conquered
provinces to adorn those of Paris, had no word of condemnation or
expression of anger for this wanton outrage, but on the contrary,
laudations innumerable. Napoleon had marched into almost every capital
of Europe without destroying a library or work of art, or firing a
dwelling. With his victorious armies he had entered city after city,
and yet no Vandalism marred his conquest. The palaces of kings, who
had perjured themselves again and again to secure his downfall, had
never been touched, and yet he was denounced as a robber and
proclaimed to the world a modern Attila. But an English army, warring
against a nation that spoke the same language, and was descended from
the same ancestors, could enter a city that had made no defence--had
not exasperated the conquerors by forcing them to a long siege or
desperate assault, and, without provocation, burn down a public
library, the unoffending capitol and presidential mansion, state
offices, and even private dwellings. Incredible as this act appears,
the greater marvel is how the English nation could exult over it. An
American victory tarnished by such barbarity and meanness, would
overwhelm the authors of it in eternal disgrace. And yet, a popular
so-called historian of England, in narrating this transaction, says it
was "one of the most brilliant expeditions ever carried into execution
by any nation." An army of some four thousand regulars put to flight
five or six thousand raw militia, and, with the loss of a few hundred
men, marched into a small unfortified town, occupied as the capital of
the United States, and like a band of robbers, set fire to the public
Library, Arsenal, Treasury, War office, President's house, two
rope-walks and a bridge; and such an affair the historian of Lodi,
Marengo, Austerlitz, and Waterloo,--of the terrible conflicts of the
peninsular, and the sublime sea-fights of Aboukir and Trafalgar, calls
"one of the most brilliant expeditions carried into execution by any
nation."
"Ille crucem, scelenis pretium tulit, hic diadema."
The news was received in England with the liveliest demonstrations of
joy. The Lord Mayor of London ordered the Park and Tower guns to be
fired at noon, in honor of a victory, which he pompously declared was
"worth an illumination." The official account was translated into
French, German and Italian, and scattered over the continent. Mr. Clay
and Mr. Russell were in the theatre at Brussels when the news arrived.
The secretary of the legation, Mr. Hughes, had overheard an English
officer in the lobby saying--"We have taken and burned the Yankee
capital, and thrown those rebels back half a century"--and going to
their box told them there were reasons why they should leave the
theatre, which he would disclose at their hotel. He had observed some
of the British legation present, and the announcement of such tidings
would be embarrassing to the American embassy. They were exceedingly
annoyed by the news, especially next morning, when the English
embassadors sent them a paper giving an account of the act; and they
returned, mortified, to Ghent. It was received on the continent,
however, with marked disapprobation. Even a Bourbon paper, in Paris,
declared that notwithstanding the atrocities charged on Napoleon, he
had never committed an act so degrading to civilized warfare as this.
The vessels designed to cooeperate with the movement on Washington,
reached Alexandria the same evening the British army left the former
place, and after levying a contribution on the inhabitants, seizing
twenty-one merchant vessels, sixteen thousand barrels of flour, a
thousand hogsheads of tobacco, and whatever else was valuable,
departed. In their descent, they were harassed by Porter and Perry
from the shore, but the guns of the latter were too light to effect
much damage. Commodore Rodgers also hovered with fire ships around
their flight, but it was too rapid to allow the concentration of a
sufficient force to arrest them.
Armstrong, the Secretary of War, following the example of President,
Cabinet, Generals and army, galloped away from the disastrous field of
Bladensburg, and took refuge in a farm-house. The fugitive President
and the fugitive Secretary at length met, and returned together to
Washington. The entrance of the latter to the capital was the signal
for the indignant outburst of the entire population. The militia
officers of the District refused to obey his orders in the future,
and a committee of the citizens waited on the President, demanding his
dismissal from the post of Secretary of War. It was suddenly
discovered that he was wholly to blame for the conduct of the troops
at Bladensburg. Borne away by the popular current, which he was
thankful was not directed against himself, Madison requested Armstrong
to retire for awhile to Baltimore. [Sidenote: Sept. 3.] The latter
obeyed, but immediately sent in his resignation, in which he paid the
President the compliment of having, as he declared, shamefully yielded
to the "humors of a village mob." Monroe, Secretary of State, was
appointed to discharge his duties, and a proclamation was issued
calling an early meeting of Congress.
The British government never committed a greater blunder than when it
sanctioned the sack and burning of Washington. Estimating its
importance by that which the capitals of Europe held in their
respective kingdoms, her misguided statesmen supposed its overthrow
would paralyze the nation and humble the government into submission.
But there was scarcely a seaport on our coast, whose destruction would
not have been a greater public calamity. Besides, the greater its
value in the eyes of the people, the more egregious the mistake.
Judging us by the effeminate races of India, or the ignorant
population of central Europe, who are accustomed to be governed by
blows, they imagined the heavier the scourging, the more prostrated by
fear, and more eager for peace we should become. But resistance and
boldness rise with us in exact proportion to the indignities offered
and injuries inflicted. With a country, whose vital part is no where
fixed, but consisting in the unity of the people, can shift with
changing fortunes from the sea-coast even to the Rocky Mountains, its
heart can never be reached by the combined forces of the world. This
republic can never die but by its own hand. In a foreign war, our
strength can be weakened only by sowing dissensions. Outrages which
inflame the national heart, or local sufferings that awaken national
sympathy serve only to heal all these, and hence render us
impregnable. Thus, when Mr. Alison, in closing up his account of this
war and speaking of the probabilities of another, advises the sudden
precipitation of vast armies on our shore as the only way to insure
success, he exhibits a lamentable ignorance of our character. An
outrage or calamity at the outset, sufficiently great to break down
party opposition, and drown all personal and political contests in one
shout for vengeance, rolling from limit to limit of our vast
possessions, would endow us with resistless energy and strength. The
attacks on Baltimore and New Orleans teach an instructive lesson on
this point. In the latter place, where a veteran army of nine
thousand men were repulsed by scarcely one-third of its force, now an
army of two hundred thousand would make no impression.
The sack of Washington furnishes a striking illustration of the effect
of a great public calamity on this nation. One feeling of wrath and
cry for vengeance swept the land. A high national impulse hushed the
bickerings and frightened into silence the quarrels of factions, and
the President and his Cabinet never gained strength so fast as when
the capitol was in flames, and they were fleeing through the storm and
darkness, weighed down with sorrow and despondency.
At the same time this expedition against Washington was moving to its
termination, Sir Peter Parker ascended the Chesapeake to Rockhall,
from whence he sent out detachments in various quarters, burning
dwellings, grain, stacks, outhouses, etc. On the 30th, he landed at
midnight, to surprise Colonel Reed, encamped in an open plain with a
hundred and seventy militia. It was bright moonlight, and as the
column advanced it was received with a steady and well-directed fire.
At length the ammunition failing, this brave band was compelled to
fall back. The enemy at the same time retreated, carrying with them
Sir Peter Parker, mortally wounded with buck shot.
On the return of these several expeditions, it was resolved to make a
grand and united attack on Baltimore, that nest of privateers. On the
6th of September, the whole fleet, consisting of more than forty sail,
moved slowly up the Chesapeake, carrying a mixed, heterogeneous land
force of five thousand men. Six days after, it reached the Patapsco,
and landed the troops at North Point. The first object of attack was
fort M'Henry, situated about two miles from Baltimore. The capture of
this, it was thought, would open a passage to the city. Having put
their forces in marching order, General Ross and Cochrane moved
forward towards the intrenchments erected for the defence of
Baltimore, while the vessels of war advanced against the fort.
After marching four miles, the leading column of the army was checked
by General Stricker, who with three thousand men had taken post near
the head of Bear Creek. A sharp skirmish ensued, in which the two
companies of Levering and Howard under Major Heath and Captain
Aisquith's rifle company, fought gallantly. General Ross, hearing the
firing rode forward, and mingled with the skirmishers, to ascertain
the cause of it, when he was pierced by the unerring ball of a
rifleman, and fell in the road. His riderless horse went plunging back
towards the main army, his "saddle and housings stained with blood,
carrying the melancholy news of his master's fate to the astonished
troops." Stretched by the road side, the dying general lay writhing in
the agonies of death. He had only time to speak of his wife and
children, before he expired. He was a gallant, skillful and humane
officer, and his part in the burning of Washington, must be laid to
his instructions rather than to his character.
The command devolved on Colonel Brooke, who gave the orders to
advance. General Stricker defended his position firmly, but at length
was compelled to fall back on his reserve, and finally took post
within half a mile of the intrenchments of the city. This ended the
combat for the day. The next morning Colonel Brooke recommenced his
march, and advanced to within two miles of the intrenchments, where he
encamped till the following morning, to wait the movements of the
fleet.
In the mean time, Cochrane had moved up to within two miles and a half
of the fort, and forming his vessels in a semi-circle, began to
bombard it. These works, under the command of Major Armstead, had no
guns sufficiently heavy to reach the vessels, which all that day threw
shells and rockets, making a grand commotion but doing little damage.
At night, Cochrane moved his fleet farther up, and opened again. The
scene then became grand and terrific. It was dark and rainy, and amid
the gloom, rockets and shells, weighing, some of them, two hundred
and fifty pounds, rose heavenward, followed by a long train of light,
and stooping over the fort burst with detonations that shook the
shore. Singly, and in groups, these fiery messengers traversed the
sky, lighting up the fort and surrounding scenery in a sudden glow,
and then with their sullen thunder, sinking all again in darkness. The
deafening explosions broke over the American army and the city of
Baltimore like heavy thunder-claps, calling forth soldiers and
inhabitants to gaze on the illumined sky. The city was in a state of
intense excitement. The streets were thronged with the sleepless
inhabitants, and the tearful eyes and pallid cheeks of women, attested
the anguish and fear that wild night created. As soon as Armstead
discovered that the vessels had come within range, he opened his fire
with such precision that they were compelled to withdraw again,
content with their distant bombardment. At length a sudden and heavy
cannonade was heard above the fort, carrying consternation into the
city, for the inhabitants believed that it had fallen. It soon ceased,
however. Several barges, loaded with troops, had passed the fort
unobserved, and attempted to land and take it in rear. Pulling to the
shore with loud shouts, they were met by a well-directed fire from a
battery, and compelled to seek shelter under their ships.
During this tremendous bombardment Francis Key lay in a little vessel
under the Admiral's frigate. He had visited him for the purpose of
obtaining an exchange of some prisoners of war, especially of one who
was a personal friend, and was directed to remain till after the
action. During the day his eye had rested eagerly on that low
fortification, over which the flag of his country was flying, and he
watched with the intensest anxiety the progress of each shell in its
flight, rejoicing when it fell short of its aim, and filled with fear
as he saw it stooping without exploding, within those silent
enclosures. At night, when darkness shut out that object of so much
and intense interest, around which every hope and desire of his life
seemed to cling, he still stood straining his eyes through the gloom,
to catch, if he could, by the light of the blazing shells, a glimpse
of his country's flag, waving proudly in the storm. The early dawn
found him still a watcher, and there, to the music of bursting shells,
and the roar of cannon, he composed "The Star-Spangled Banner."[6]
[Footnote 6: The scene and the occasion which called forth this
beautiful ode, have helped to make it a national one. It requires but
little imagination to conceive the intense and thrilling anxiety with
which a true patriot would look for the first gray streak of morning,
to see if the flag of his country was still flying, while the heart
involuntarily asks the question--
"O, say, can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming--
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
O, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses;
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines in the stream?
'Tis the star-spangled banner, O, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."]
In the morning, Broke not deeming it prudent to assail those
intrenchments, manned by brave and determined men,[7] while the
heights around bristled with artillery, resolved to retreat. Waiting
till night to take advantage of the darkness, he retraced his steps to
the shipping.
From the extreme apprehensions that had oppressed it, Baltimore passed
to the most extravagant joy. Beaming faces once more filled the
streets, and the military bands, as they marched through, playing
triumphant strains, were saluted with shouts. The officers were feted
and exultation and confidence filled every bosom.
[Footnote 7: Senator Smith, who had been appointed general, commanded
the 10,000 militia who manned the works.]
CHAPTER VII.
Macomb at Plattsburg -- American and English fleets on Lake
Champlain -- Advance of Prevost -- Indifference of Governor
Chittenden -- Rev. Mr. Wooster -- Macdonough -- The two
battles -- Funeral of the officers -- British invasion of
Maine -- McArthur's expedition.
The gallant defence of Baltimore was still the theme of every tongue,
when tidings from our northern borders swelled the enthusiasm to the
highest pitch, and extinguished for a moment the remembrance of the
barbarities committed at Washington.
The day before the British landed at North Point and received their
first shock in the death of General Ross, the double battle of
Plattsburg was fought.
Izard, when he started on his tortoise-like march, to the relief of
Brown, left Colonel Macomb in command of three thousand men, not more
than half of whom were fit for service. Their defeat he considered
certain, and the result would have justified his prognostications,
had Macomb, like him, sat down to brood over his troubles and gaze
only on the difficulties that beset the army, till his confidence was
gone and his energies paralyzed. But he was made of sterner
stuff--difficulties only roused and developed him. Were the well men
under his command few? then his defences must be the stronger, and the
labor of those able to work, the more constant and exhausting.
Calling on New York and Vermont for militia, he toiled night and day
at the works, and soon found himself strongly intrenched.
In the mean time, Prevost, at the head of a disciplined army of twelve
thousand men, began to advance on Plattsburg. The ulterior design of
this invasion of the States has never been disclosed. It is hardly
possible that the British General meditated a movement similar to
Burgoyne's, hoping to reach Albany. The object may have been to get
entire command of Lake Champlain; and, pushing his land forces as far
as Ticonderoga, there wait the development of events on the sea-coast,
or by conquests along the northern boundary, create a claim to the
lakes, to be enforced in the negotiations for peace.
Prevost marched slowly, cumbering the road with his heavy baggage and
artillery trains as he advanced, and did not arrive at Plattsburg
till the 7th of September.
This town is situated on the Saranac River, a deep and rapid stream,
crossed at the time by several bridges. Abandoning that portion of it
on the north shore, as untenable, Macomb withdrew his forces to the
southern bank. Prevost, after a sharp action with the advance of the
American army, was allowed to erect his batteries at his leisure. It
took him four days to complete his works, or rather that time elapsed
before the arrival of the British fleet.
[Sidenote: Sept. 1.]
In the mean time Macomb had sent an express to Governor Chittenden, of
Vermont, telling him that Prevost had commenced his march on
Plattsburg, and beseeching him to call out the militia to his aid. But
this Federalist Governor, acting on the rebellious doctrine of
Massachusetts, coldly replied that he had no authority to send militia
out of the State. On the 4th, Macomb sent another express saying the
army was approaching, that his force was too small to resist it, and
begging for assistance. General Newell, more patriotic than the
Governor, offered to take his brigade over to the help of Macomb, but
the former would not sanction the movement by his authority, though he
advised him to beat up for volunteers. With every feeling of
patriotism deadened by the poison of the spirit of faction--every
generous sentiment and sympathy apparently extinguished--deaf to the
piteous plea rising from a neighboring town, he coldly entrenched
himself behind a party dogma, and let the ruin and devastation sweep
onward. The cannonading on the 6th, by Majors Appling and Wool, who
gallantly attacked the enemy's advance, did not rouse him from his
apathy.
One can hardly imagine that the call he issued for volunteers before
the battle, and the stirring proclamation he made afterwards under the
pressure of popular enthusiasm, emanated from the same person.
The people, however, did not require to be stimulated into patriotism
by their executive. As that sullen thunder came booming over the lake,
it stirred with fiery ardor the gallant sons of that noble State, who
never yet turned a deaf ear to the calls of their country, and before
whose stern and valorous onset the enemy's ranks have never stood
unbroken. Spurning the indifference of their Governor, and trampling
under foot his constitutional scruples, they flew to their homes, and
snatching down their muskets and rifles, and giving a short adieu to
their families, rushed to the shore, and soon the lake was covered
with boats, urged fiercely forward by strong arms and willing hearts
towards the spot where the heavy explosions told that their brave
countrymen were struggling in unequal combat. The face of young Macomb
lighted with joy as his eye fell on those bold men, and a heavy load
was taken from his heart.
Among those who had previously volunteered, was the Rev. Benjamin
Wooster, of Fairfield, Vermont. Responding to the call of Governor
Tompkins, he put himself at the head of his parishioners and repaired
to the American camp, where he endured all the privations of a common
soldier. The aged members of his church and the women, when they saw
him draw up his little flock on the village green, prior to their
departure for the scene of conflict, assembled in the church and sent
for him, saying, "We shall see you no more--come, go to the house of
God and preach us a last sermon, and administer to us the holy
sacrament for the last time." But fearing the effect of so touching an
interview on his own decisions, he refused. Sending them an
affectionate farewell, he embraced his weeping family, kissed his
babes, and gently untwining their arms from his neck, turned
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/39369