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THE HISTORY OF OUR NAVY

THE CONSTITUTION AND GUERRIÈRE.

From a French water-color drawing in the possession of Mr. W. C. Crane.

THE
HISTORY OF OUR NAVY

FROM ITS ORIGIN TO THE PRESENT DAY
1775–1897

BY
JOHN R. SPEARS

AUTHOR OF “THE PORT OF MISSING SHIPS,”
“THE GOLD DIGGINGS OF CAPE HORN,” ETC.

WITH MORE THAN FOUR HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS
MAPS AND DIAGRAMS

IN FOUR VOLUMES

VOLUME II.

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1897

COPYRIGHT, 1897, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

MANHATTAN PRESS
474 W. BROADWAY
NEW YORK

TO ALL WHO WOULD SEEK PEACE
AND PURSUE IT

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE HISTORY OF OUR NAVY

CHAPTER I
TROUBLES ON THE EVE OF WAR

A FAIR ESTIMATE OF THE NUMBER OF AMERICANS ENSLAVED BY THE PRESS GANGS—A BRAGGART BRITISH CAPTAIN’S WORK AT SANDY HOOK—A SEARCH FOR THE GUERRIÈRE—ATTACK ON THE BRITISH SHIP LITTLE BELT—A FEATURE OF THE BATTLE THAT WAS OVERLOOKED—WHEN THE CONSTITUTION SHOWED HER TEETH THE BRITISH SHIP BRAILED ITS SPANKER AND HEADED FOR SAFER WATERS—AN EAGER YANKEE SAILOR WHO COULDN’T WAIT FOR AN ORDER TO FIRE—WAR UNAVOIDABLE.

By base arts and promises intended to be broken—by sending, for instance, one George Rose as a commissioner to Washington, ostensibly to adjust the whole matter amicably, but in reality to gain time, the British Prime Minister (the “impetuous Canning”) succeeded in getting the Chesapeake affair “put out to nurse.” The three American seamen were “reprieved on condition of re-entering the British service; not, however, without a grave lecture from Berkeley on the enormity of their offence, and its tendency to provoke a war.” Berkeley himself was called home. The British Minister told the American Government this was done by way of reproval for Berkeley’s act in ordering the assault on the Chesapeake. As a matter of fact, he was at once rewarded with a more important command than that he had held—just as the commander of the Leander was promoted after having shot to death the man at the tiller of an American coaster.

Not only was the Chesapeake affair “put out to nurse,” it was actually nursed to sleep. The people waited for the politicians to adjust it, but waited in vain, waited and watched while the brutal press-gangs continued their work. The results of these press-gang assaults upon American seamen seem—as seems the patience of the American people—almost incredible. But the figures are a matter of undisputed record. The American Minister in London, during one period of nine months, presented two hundred and seventy one petitions, begging the release of that number of American impressed seamen.

The British Admiralty at one time reported 2,548 seamen in the service who had refused to do duty on the ground that they were enslaved American citizens.

English Vessel of One Hundred Cannons

Lord Castlereagh admitted in a speech before Parliament on February 18, 1811, that “out of 145,000 seamen employed in the British service the whole number of American subjects amounts to more than 3,300.” And when the papers of the State Department at Washington were searched it was found that the friends of the enormous number of 6,257 different American citizens, impressed into the British service, had filed protests there.

That more than two men would be so impressed without having a protest filed, to every one for whom such a protest was filed, is a matter of course. And what is the moderate conclusion drawn from these facts? It is that more than twenty thousand free American men were forced into the service of the British navy by the press-gangs. Their fate, save in a few cases, is unrecorded, but we know that some met the perils of the deep and were lost. Many were sent to the fever coasts of Africa and there died. Some were flogged to death at the order of officers who laughed at their tortures. And of the rest—the few—we shall read farther on. For their cries to righteous heaven for help, and the wails of mothers and wives and children left helpless by these aggressions, were to be heard at last.

A Frigate with her Sails Loose to Dry.

From a wood-cut in the “Kedge Anchor.”

A body of Massachusetts Tory merchants strove wickedly and falsely to make the world believe that Massachusetts homes had not been invaded by the press-gangs; a member of Congress stood in his place to say that in spite of restrictions the nation had “profitably exported” goods worth forty-five millions of dollars during one year, and asked if all that trade was to be sacrificed in order to strike a blow for mere sentiment; the faint-hearted pointed to the exhausted condition of the national treasury, to the utter lack of trained soldiers, and to the feebleness of the navy when it was compared with that of the nation whose “naval supremacy was become a part of the law of nations.” But all these were at last brushed aside by the indignant host that arose to strike another blow for liberty—they were brushed aside so rudely, that, in one place, at least, a mob violently assaulted the toady element as represented by a Tory newspaper.

It happened that actual fighting occurred before war was declared, and most significant was one feature of the first battle of the war of 1812. The British frigate Guerrière, of thirty-eight guns, commanded then by Captain Samuel John Pechell, was one of the great host of war-ships that hovered about the American coast in 1811, picking able-bodied sailors from American ships, and in other ways annoying American commerce. Captain Pechell’s contempt for the young republic and his personal vanity were so great that he caused the name of his ship to be painted in huge letters across his foretopsail. Like a mine-camp bad man, he wanted every one to know who it was that tore open the water and split the air off the American coast. He was looking for trouble and his ship found enough of it, later on, although under another commander. Pechell himself found it, also, but he did not stay long to face it. In fact he fled from a very inferior force the moment he smelled the burning powder.

On May 1, 1811, the American merchant brig, Spitfire, while en route from Portland (formerly Falmouth), Maine, to New York, passed the Guerrière, that was lying-to at Sandy Hook, and but eighteen miles from New York City. The Guerrière, finding the brig bound in, deliberately stopped her there within the waters of New York and took off John Deguyo, an American citizen, who was a passenger.

At the time of this outrage the United States frigate President, of forty-four guns, commanded by Captain John Rodgers, was lying off Fort Severn, at Annapolis, Maryland. Captain Rodgers was at Havre de Grace, her chaplain and purser were at Washington, and her sailing-master was at Baltimore. That was in the days of stage coaches, as the reader will recall, but in spite of the slowness with which mails travelled—especially official mails—the President tripped her anchor at dawn on the morning of May 12th, and headed away for the ocean, with her name painted on each of her three topsails. As a poker-player might say, Captain Rodgers was holding three of a kind to Captain Pechell’s ace high. That he had been sent to sea to look for the Guerrière and get John Deguyo from her does not admit of a doubt, although he had not been specifically ordered to do so. He had been ordered to cruise up and down the coast to “protect American commerce,” and the facts of the Guerrière’s assault upon the liberty of John Deguyo had been communicated to him. The proper proceedings in the matter should he fall in with the Guerrière were left to his discretion. That he assumed the responsibility gladly may be inferred from what he said before sailing. He said that if he fell in with the Guerrière “he hoped he might prevail upon her commander to release the impressed young man.”

Four days after leaving Annapolis (on May 16, 1811) the look-out saw a man-of-war approaching, and the looked-for Guerrière was supposed to be at hand. But while yet too far away for her name to be distinguished, the stranger wore around and headed away south. Still supposing it was the Guerrière, Captain Rodgers made sail after her. This was soon after the noonday meal. The President steadily gained on the stranger, but the wind was light, and a stern chase is a long one. As night came on the stranger hauled to the wind and tacked, and did various things, manifestly in the hope of evading the Yankee, but all in vain, even though night and thick weather came on to help.

John Rodgers.

From the portrait by Jarvis at the Naval Academy.

Finally, at 8.20 o’clock the President, with her crew at quarters, drew up close on the weather bow of the stranger, and Captain Rodgers hailed from the lee rail:

“What ship is that?”

Instead of an answer, the stranger replied by hailing in turn:

“What ship is that?”

Captain Rodgers repeated his question, and to his intense surprise he got for an answer a shot from the stranger that struck the President’s mainmast. Like an echo to this shot was one, fired without orders, from the President. To this the stranger replied with three shots in quick succession, and then with a broadside. At that the impatient gunner who had fired from the President without orders had opportunity to try again under orders, and the rest of the crew joined in. For ten minutes they loaded the guns with a rapidity well worth noting, and fired with a deliberation and precision never to be forgotten. And then the stranger almost ceased firing. Because she was manifestly much inferior to the President in armament, Captain Rodgers ordered his men to cease firing, but no sooner had this order been obeyed than the stranger opened once more, and his fire had to be returned. The order was obeyed with such increasing good-will that, in spite of darkness and growing wind and sea, one broadside knocked the stranger helpless, so that she wore around stern on, where another broadside might rake her fore and aft.

Now when Rodgers once more hailed he received a reply, but owing to his position to windward he could not understand it, but it is recorded that the captain pluckily said “no” when asked if he had struck. However, Rodgers ran down under the stranger’s lee and hove to, where he might be of service in case she should sink, and there he waited for daylight.

During the night the two vessels drifted apart, but at 8 o’clock the next morning the President ranged up and sent Lieutenant Creighton on board the stranger, to “regret the necessity which had led to such an unhappy result,” and offer assistance, if any were needed.

It was then learned that she was the “twenty-gun corvette Little Belt, Commander Arthur B. Bingham.” She had carried a crew of one hundred and twenty-one all told, and of these no less than eleven were killed, and twenty-one wounded—a list of casualties amounting to more than one-fourth of all she carried, although, even by the British account (see Allen) the time that elapsed between the first hail and the last was but half an hour, while the time passed in actual combat did not exceed fifteen minutes. On the President one boy was slightly hurt by a splinter.

The Little Belt Breaking up at Battersea.

From an engraving by Cooke of a drawing by Francia.

In the controversy that followed this conflict the significance of the figures—significance of the deadly fire of the Americans—was wholly lost to sight. The whole affair was, of course, carefully investigated by both Governments. The officers on each ship swore that the other fired the first gun. The British captain’s statement, however, was greatly weakened by his assertion that he had kept up the fight for three-quarters of an hour and that he had really beaten off his bigger opponent. So Allen, already quoted, says that “a gun was fired from each ship, but whether by accident or design, or from which ship first, remains involved in doubt.”

This fight occurred, as the reader remembers, when the two nations were nominally at peace, but it was a blow—the first blow struck at the press-gangs.

Another incident of similar import, though bloodless, occurred before the end of the year 1811. The Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull, had gone to Texel to carry specie for the payment of interest on the American bonds held there, and when returning had called at Portsmouth to enable Captain Hull to communicate with the American legation in London. One night, while the captain was in London, a British officer came on board the Constitution to say that an American deserter was on the British war-ship Havana, lying near by, and the Constitution could have him by sending for him. So the executive officer, Lieutenant Morris, sent a boat next morning, but it came back with a notice that an order for the man must first be obtained from Admiral Sir Roger Curtis. To this official then went Lieutenant Morris, when the admiral calmly informed him that the man claimed to be a British subject, and therefore he should not be returned.

It was fairly manifest that the British officials had for some reason been playing with the temporary commander of the Constitution, but Lieutenant Morris had his revenge within a day, for on the next night a British sailor boarded the Constitution, admitted that he was a deserter from the Havana, and said, when asked his nationality, that he was “An American, sor.”

At that, word was sent the commander of the Havana that a deserter from his ship was on the Constitution, but when an officer from the Havana came after the man, Lieutenant Morris blandly informed him that the man claimed to be an American and therefore he could not be given up.

This threw the British naval people into a turmoil, and a little later two British frigates shifted their berths and anchored where it was probable that the Constitution would, on getting under way, foul one or the other.

Seeing they were laying a trap for him, Lieutenant Morris got up anchor, and by the skill in handling a ship common among American officers, dropped clear to a new berth.

Hardly was he at anchor again, however, before the two frigates once more drew near and again anchored to trap the Yankee frigate.

The three ships were lying so when Captain Hull returned from London that evening. That the Englishmen were intending to make trouble about the sailor with a brogue seemed plain, but Captain Hull, remembering the trick played on the Chesapeake, was not to be caught napping. He cleared the ship for action, and, with battle-lanterns burning, guns loaded, and extra ammunition at each gun, he made sail, got up his anchor, and, slipping clear of the British frigates, put to sea. There were two Britishers to the one Yankee, but the Yankee was ready to fight.

As the Constitution stood away down the roads the British frigates made sail in chase. For a time the Constitution carried a press of canvas, but when it was seen that one of the enemy was dropping out of sight Captain Hull backed his main-yard and waited for the other.

“If that fellow wants to fight we won’t disappoint him,” said the captain.

As the enemy ranged up within hail Lieutenant Morris walked forward along the gun-deck to encourage the men, and found that never did a crew need encouragement less. Gun-captains were bringing their guns to bear on the enemy, and their men, stripped to the waist in many cases, were hauling on the side-tackles with a vigor that made the carriages jump.

But they were to be disappointed. The Englishman came yapping up till he saw the teeth of the silent Yankee turned upon him, when he hesitated, turned, brailed in his spanker as a dog tucks its tail between its legs, and ran back to his own enclosure.

And then there was the occasion when the United States, commanded by Captain Stephen Decatur, of Tripoli fame, fell in with the British ships Eurydice and Atalanta while cruising off Sandy Hook. Decatur had his men at their guns, of course, though he had no reason for trying either to force or to avoid a fight. But while he was exchanging hails with one of the other ships an impatient gunner on the United States pulled his lanyard and sent a ball into one of the British ships. It was unquestionably done by the man to force a fight, though when he saw that it did not bring a single return shot he said he did it accidentally, and the shot was so explained to the British captains.

The Section of a First-rate Ship.

Being cut or divided by the middle from the stem to the stern, at one view discovering the decks, guns, cabins, etc.

This incident, like that of the Constitution at Plymouth, is worth mentioning to show the feeling of the American seamen regarding the British theory and practice of impressment. And this feeling was becoming well known to all informed and thinking persons in both countries. It could now no longer be doubted that the American people would fight to gain freedom for their countrymen enslaved in British warships.

It is admitted that the politicians at Washington still talked as loudly of free trade on the high seas as ever they had done; it is admitted that “free trade” stood before “sailors’ rights” in the motto of the day—but it is declared, nevertheless, that the sentiment of the people, which alone can declare a war in this republic, was roused by the outrages upon man, and not upon property.

Had the British been animated by any other feeling than “the spirit of animosity and unconciliating contempt,” they could have averted further trouble by definitely abandoning their hostile attitude toward the young republic. They had opportunity to do this gracefully, for, yielding to the sentiment of the humane element of their nation, the Ministry had decided to once more disavow the Chesapeake affair and to return the men to the deck of the ship from which they had been taken. Two only remained alive, one having been hanged and the other having succumbed to the hardships to which he was subjected, but these were in fact put on the Chesapeake in Boston Harbor. Nevertheless, instead of abandoning the practice which led to the outrage, the right to continue it was reaffirmed. Indeed, every proposition made by the portion of the nation that loved justice more than conquest excited only derision among the nation’s rulers, and among the masses, too, for that matter. War was inevitable, and on June 18, 1812, it was declared to exist.

CHAPTER II
THE OUTLOOK WAS, AT FIRST, NOT PLEASING

THE SILLY CRY OF “ON TO CANADA!”—THE NAVAL FORCES OF THE UNITED STATES COMPARED WITH THOSE OF GREAT BRITAIN—THE FORESIGHT AND QUICK WORK OF CAPTAIN RODGERS IN GETTING A SQUADRON TO SEA—BUT HE MISSED THE JAMAICA FLEET HE WAS AFTER, AND WHEN HE FELL IN WITH A BRITISH FRIGATE, THE RESULTS OF THE AFFAIR WERE LAMENTABLE.

Although “vast multitudes” of the American people had “passionately wished for” a declaration of war against Great Britain, that declaration was, indeed, “a solemn and serious fact” to those who stopped to consider what odds must be met. What those odds were will be told further on, but in view of the fact that the naval supremacy of England is about as pronounced at the end of the nineteenth century as it was at the beginning, it is well worth while giving a glance at the plans of the Americans in 1812. For the cry was “on to Canada!” Canada was very likely to welcome an opportunity to join the republic, but even if she did not do that she was but feeble, and the spirited Yankee militia would overrun the whole region and take revenge for the wrongs received at the hands of the English by annexing the whole fair domain. The sea-power of Great Britain was overwhelming, of course, but we had coast-defence vessels by the hundred—nearly three hundred schooners carrying a big gun each, and these should defend the principal American forts while the valiant militia slaughtered the Canadians! The majority of the American people seriously believed that the way to defend American citizens from the aggressions of the only nation likely to abuse them was by building a navy for coast defence only and marching to Canada when ready for offensive operations. But if that must seem astonishing to every one who has rightly studied the war of 1812, what can be said of the fact that this same theory of protecting the United States from British aggression is still held by as great a majority as ever? For it must not be forgotten that the American assaults on Canada were as futile as the American militia were worthless. There was but one fight made by the land forces alone of which Americans are proud—that at New Orleans.

A Brigantine of a Hundred Years Ago at Anchor.

From a picture drawn and engraved by Baugean.

On a casual glance at the American sea-power in 1812 the lack of confidence in it was merited. For of sea-going craft we had only 17, carrying all told 442 guns and 5,025 men. Even of these ships two were condemned as unfit for service as soon as they were inspected. And as for the gun-boats, they were simply brushed aside the moment actual hostilities began. But Great Britain had 1,048 ships to our 17; these ships carried 27,800 guns to our 442 and 151,572 men to our 5,025. Of course the majority of these ships were employed elsewhere than on the American coast. But by the London Times of December 28, 1812, the British had, “from Halifax to the West Indies, seven times the force of the whole American navy.” By a pennant sheet taken from the British schooner Highflyer in 1813 there were on the American coast on March 13th, 107 British ships rated as carrying 3,055 guns, among which were 12 ships of the line rated as seventy-fours. As a matter of fact these ships actually carried at least ten per cent. more guns than their rating indicated. That this preponderance was increased as time passed, and that there was good reason for increasing it, will appear farther on.

The faint-hearted, indeed, were not without reason when they spoke of the declaration of war as “the dreaded and alarming intelligence.” But if the reader wishes for a correct idea of the quality of the men who in that day stood erect, facing the quarter-deck, and uncovered their heads whenever the brawny quartermaster hoisted the old flag, he will find it in the fact that they—the men of the American navy—were the foremost among those who “passionately wished for” a war with this power—a power that outnumbered them and out-weighed them on their own coast as seven to one.

An English Admiral of 1809.

From an engraving at the Navy Department, Washington.

Nor was the power of the British navy found only in the number and size of her ships and the number and size of the guns. “Since the year 1792 each European nation in turn had learned to feel bitter dread of the weight of England’s hand. In the Baltic Sir Samuel Hood had taught the Russians that they must needs keep in port when the English cruisers were in the offing. The descendants of the Vikings had seen their whole navy destroyed at Copenhagen. No Dutch fleet ever put out after the day when, off Camperdown, Lord Duncan took possession of De Winter’s shattered ships. But a few years before 1812 the greatest sea-fighter of all time had died in Trafalgar Bay, and in dying had crumbled to pieces the navies of France and Spain.” In spite of the infamous system under which the British ships were manned, the personnel of the British navy was—one is tempted to say it was beyond comparison better than that of any other European nation. For the others felt “the lack of habit—may it not even be said without injustice, of aptitude for the sea.” The officers and men who gathered to crush the navy of the young republic came from Aboukir and Copenhagen and Trafalgar Bay. They were veterans in naval warfare—men who preferred short weapons as the Romans did, men who preferred to fight with yard-arm interlocking yard-arm, where short carronades were better than long guns of smaller bore, and where even these might be made more effective through loading with double shot. Luckily for us their long experience had engendered prejudiced conservatism, their many victories had cultivated an overweening confidence, and their bull-dog courage had made them careless of the arts of seamanship.

As to the ability of the American crews who were to meet these tar-stained, smoke-begrimed, cicatrice-marked veterans, enough will be told in the descriptions of their battles, for they astounded the whole world.

Nevertheless, the war at sea began in a fashion to discourage the nation and humiliate the whole navy.

On the day (June 18, 1812) that war was declared, the effective part of the American navy—the only American naval ships ready for a fight—lay in New York Harbor, or else were at sea where they could not hear the news. The ships in New York were the flag-ship President, rated forty-four, Captain Rodgers; the United States, forty-four, Captain Decatur; the Congress, thirty-eight, Captain Smith; the Hornet, eighteen, Captain Lawrence, and the Argus, sixteen, Lieutenant Sinclair. Nothing more discreditable to the administration of President Madison than this fact can be told. He had seen for months that war was inevitable and yet he had done nothing to gather in the ships and prepare them for the fight. And Monroe was Secretary of State. But for the earnest remonstrances of Captains Bainbridge and Stewart, who repeatedly addressed the Department, every American warship would have been kept in port for harbor defence.

Representation of a Ship-of-war, dressed with flags, and yards manned.

1. American Ensign.
2. Ottoman-Greek
3. Norden.
4. Stralsund.
5. Greek.
6. Brandenburg.
7. Hanover.
8. Prussia.
9. Saxony.
10. Morocco.
11. Maltese.
12. Arabia.
13. Columbia.
14. Mexican.
15. Brazil.
16. Hayti.
17. Japan.
18. Mogul.
19. Buenos Ayres.
20. Spanish.
21. Tunis.
22. St. Domingo.
23. Old Sardinia.
24. Majorca.
25. Peru.
26. English (blue).
27. Venezuela.
28. Chili.
29. Normandy.
30. English (white).
31. French.
32. Tripoli.
33. Salee.
34. Old Portugal.
35. Algiers.
36. Senegal.
37. Oporto.
38. Central America.
39. English (red).
40. E. Russia.
41. Sandwich Islands.
42. American Jack.
o. Commodore’s Broad Pendant.

Note.—Those which have no numbers affixed are the ship’s signals, or, rather, the telegraphic numbers.

From the “Kedge Anchor.”

1. Paint-room.
2. General store-room.
3. Bread-room.
4. Coal-locker.
5. Tanks.
6. Casks.
7. Chain-locker.
8. Tier gratings.
9. Shot-locker.
10. Shell-room.
11. Spirit-room.
12. Bread-room.
13. Slop-room.
14. Marine stores.
15. Magazine.
16. Light-room.

The Internal Arrangements and Stowage of an American Sloop-of-War.

From the “Kedge Anchor.”

But if the Administration had done nothing, Captain Rodgers, as commodore of the squadron in New York, had done everything—he had done so well that within one hour from the time that a messenger from Washington arrived on board the President with the declaration of war and instructions to put to sea, the whole squadron except the Essex was under sail, heading down New York Bay toward Sandy Hook.

This was on June 21, 1812. Commodore Rodgers was bound out to intercept a big fleet of British merchantmen sailing home from Jamaica, convoyed only by the thirty-six-gun frigate Thalia and the eighteen-gun corvette Reindeer. This fleet had left Jamaica, it was said, on the 20th, and it was sure to follow the Gulf Stream under very easy sail. But when Rodgers was a short way out to sea an American brig reported the fleet well down the stream (about due east of Boston and well off shore) on June 17th. The fleet had sailed some days earlier than the Americans had supposed. So the squadron hauled to the northeast in pursuit.

At 6 o’clock on the morning of June 23d, when the squadron was thirty-five miles southwest of Nantucket shoals, a sail was seen. It was the thirty-three-gun frigate Belvidera, Captain Byron, that was then lying in wait for a French privateer expected from New London, Connecticut. At once the Belvidera headed toward the American squadron to examine them, but when at 6.30 A.M. she discovered their character she wore around and headed away to the northeast with a smacking breeze over the port quarter and studding-sails set.

At once the Yankees made sail in chase, with the President, the swiftest of the squadron when sailing free, well in the lead. By 11 o’clock the President was near enough to warrant clearing for action, but a shift of wind helped the Belvidera and she held her own until 2 P.M., when another shift favored the President, so that at 4.20 P.M. the Britisher with her colors flying was within range.

Getting behind one of the long bow-chasers on the forecastle of the President, Commodore Rodgers carefully sighted it, and pulling the lanyard, fired the first shot of the war of 1812. It knocked the splinters out of the stern of the flying enemy. The second shot was fired from a bow-chaser on the deck below, and a third was fired on the forecastle. Each of these reached its target. One passed through the rudder-coat, and another, striking the muzzle of a stern-chaser, broke into pieces, which killed two men, severely wounded two more, and slightly wounded three others, including a lieutenant who was aiming the gun.

Guns Secured for a Gale.

From the “Kedge Anchor.”

Greatly elated at the accuracy of their fire, the men working the President’s bow-chaser on the lower deck aimed a fourth shot. A boy with his leather box full of powder-cartridges arrived just as the gunner was pulling his lanyard, and then when the hammer fell the gun exploded and the flames from the splitting breech darted into the open box of powder, setting it off as well.

The explosion knocked the men in all directions, disabled for the moment every one of the bow-chasers, and bursting up the deck above, it threw Commodore Rodgers so violently into the air that when he fell his leg was broken. Of the men standing about the gun two were killed and thirteen wounded.

At that moment the Belvidera opened an effective fire with her stern-chasers, and one of her projectiles came crashing into the President’s bows, and went bounding along the gun-deck, killing a midshipman and wounding a number of seamen. For a time there was not a little confusion on the President, but her crew soon got to work again and began to make it warm on the Belvidera once more. But the mistake of yawing to fire broadsides was made. That “a whole broadside battery will be much less likely to ‘disable a flying enemy’ than the cool and careful use of one well-served gun,” has been amply proven. The yawing gave the Belvidera a gain in the race. That she would have waited for a fight with the President but for the presence of the other ships is not doubted, but, as it was, Captain Byron saw that something desperate must be done to escape, so he threw over his spare anchors and boats and fourteen tons of water in casks. So lightened, he was able to outsail the Yankee squadron and escape.

The President lost three killed and nineteen wounded, and was considerably cut up aloft. The Belvidera lost two killed and twenty-two wounded, Captain Byron being among the number. His rigging was also cut up somewhat, but he made such a good running fight of it that a painting, by a British artist, was made of the scene, that, according to Allen’s history, is preserved to this day.

As for the American squadron, it vainly followed the Jamaica fleet to within less than a day’s sail of the English Channel, and returned home by the way of the Madeiras and Azores, reaching Boston after a cruise of sixty-nine days, in which nothing had been accomplished, save only that seven merchantmen were taken and an American ship recaptured.

CHAPTER III
THE FIRST EXHIBIT OF YANKEE METTLE

CAPTAIN DAVID PORTER’S IDEAS ABOUT TRAINING SEAMEN—THE GUNS OF THE ESSEX—TAKING A TRANSPORT OUT OF A CONVOY AT NIGHT—A BRITISH FRIGATE CAPTAIN WHO WAS CALLED A COWARD BY HIS COUNTRYMEN—CAPTAIN LAUGHARNE’S MISTAKE—A FIGHT THAT BEGAN WITH CHEERS AND ENDED IN DISMAY FOR WHICH THERE WAS GOOD CAUSE—WORK THAT WAS DONE BY YANKEE GUNNERS IN EIGHT MINUTES—WHEN FARRAGUT SAVED THE SHIP—AN ATTACK ON A FIFTY-GUN SHIP PLANNED.

During the time that Commodore Rodgers was making what was practically a fruitless cruise with his squadron, Captain David Porter was doing somewhat better with the little frigate Essex. Rarely has a naval man had the benefit of such experiences as those through which Captain Porter had passed. At the age of sixteen (1796), while in the West Indies on the merchant-schooner Eliza, of which his father was commander, he had stood at the rail with the rest of the crew and fought off a British press-gang in such a determined assault that several men were killed and wounded on both sides. A year later he was twice impressed into the British navy, but escaped both times. Then he joined the American navy as a midshipman, and, as already told, showed himself a hero in helping to hold the prisoners on a captured French frigate for three days, although they were in overwhelming numbers, and he had to watch them during all the time without a moment’s sleep. In a pilot-boat called the Amphitrite, that mounted but five one-pounder swivels and carried fifteen men, he attacked a French privateer armed with a long twelve-pounder and a number of swivels, and carrying forty men. Moreover, the Frenchman was supported by a barge armed with swivels and carrying thirty men. Such odds had rarely been taken, but the impetuous onslaught of the Yankees carried the privateer after a bloody resistance. She had lost seven killed and fifteen wounded, more than half her crew, when she surrendered. Porter did not lose a man. The barge escaped, but a merchant-prize they had captured was retaken. After a variety of exploits only less daring than this, he was sent to the Mediterranean Sea, and there continued to gain knowledge, skill, and reputation until, by the grounding of the Philadelphia, he became a prisoner to the Tripolitans.

When war was declared in 1812 he was in the Essex. She was undergoing repairs in New York Harbor. It was fortunate for Porter that she was not ready to sail with Rodgers, for the delay enabled him to make a cruise alone. And this cruise, because of what it shows about the American armament and American seamen, is worth describing in detail.

David Porter.

From an engraving by Edwin of the portrait by Wood.

The Essex was rated as a thirty-two-gun frigate, but she carried forty-six carriage-guns all told. As to her numbers of guns she was greatly underrated, but as to the effectiveness of her armament she was the most overrated ship in the little navy. She had originally mounted twenty-six long twelve-pounders on her main deck, while her forecastle and poop carried sixteen twenty-four-pounder carronades, “but official wisdom changed all this.” The Navy Department took out twenty-four of her main deck long twelves and put thirty-two-pounder carronades there instead. Then the poop and forecastle were swept clear of the twenty-four-pounder carronades and four long twelves and sixteen thirty-two-pounder carronades were mounted there. Porter protested over and again, but in vain.

To fully understand why Porter should have protested against this armament one must know the character of the guns. This is a matter that has been discussed at very great length by almost every one who has written on the navy of any nation. But, for the aid of the uninformed reader, it may be said that an average long thirty-two-pounder was eight and a half feet long, and weighed 4,500 pounds, while a thirty-two-pounder carronade was four feet long and weighed but 1,700 pounds. Being thick at the breech and long, the long gun had a long range. That is, a heavy powder charge would act on the ball throughout the length of the long bore and so hurl the ball over a long range. The short gun being short, and thin at the breech, could stand only about one-third of the charge of powder used in the long gun. Where the long thirty-two burned seven pounds of powder and had a range, when elevated one degree, of six hundred and forty yards (not counting the ricochet leaps), the short thirty-two burned two and a half pounds of powder and had a range of three hundred and eighty yards.

A short range means a small power to penetrate, not fully expressed by the above figures. To make a carronade really effective the ship had to be placed within two hundred yards of the enemy, and even at twenty yards it was known that a thirty-two-pounder ball stuck in a ship’s mast instead of crashing through it, and the long twelves could do effective work when entirely beyond the range of the short thirty-two, for they were made heavier in proportion to the size of the ball than the long thirty-two, and had a range quite equal to that of the larger calibre. But the long gun in that day was exceedingly heavy. It needed a big carriage and big tackles, and a big crew. It was a hard job to load and aim one of these long guns. The short gun, throwing a ball of the same size, weighed, as shown, comparatively little and could, therefore, be loaded and fired much more rapidly. When within pistol-shot of the enemy this was an advantage, of course. Another advantage of the short gun was in the fact that a battery of them did not strain a ship as a battery of long guns would do. But when all was said in favor of a short gun of big bore, the fact remained that in a combat, a handy ship having long guns could remain out of range of the ship having short guns and shoot it to pieces. The short-gun ship had to close in on the other or suffer defeat. Had Porter’s petition for his long twelves been granted he would have had a different story to tell when he reached the Pacific.

But this chapter is to tell of his first cruise in the Essex. On July 2, 1812, he was off to sea in search of the British thirty-six-gun frigate Thetis, which was bound to South America with specie. The Thetis escaped, but a few merchantmen were captured, and then on the night of the 10th a fleet of seven merchantmen in convoy was discovered. As it happened the moon was shining, but the sky was so well overcast with clouds that the alternating shadows and lights made it easy for Porter to pose the Essex as a merchant-ship. Her top-gallant masts were dropped part way down to conceal their height, the lee braces and other running rigging were left slack, and the guns were run in and ports closed. In this fashion Porter jogged with the fleet, where in casual conversation he learned that a thousand soldiers were there en route from Barbadoes to Quebec, and that the thirty-two-gun frigate Minerva was the sole guard.

After a time a ship-captain to whom Porter was talking became suspicious, and started to signal the presence of a stranger to the Minerva, but Porter threw open his ports and compelled the merchantman to follow the Essex out of the fleet. This manœuvre was done without alarming any other one in the fleet. On boarding her, one hundred and ninety-seven soldiers were found.

The merchantman was captured at 3 o’clock in the morning. Before another could be overhauled daylight came. At that, Porter took in the slack of his loose rigging, set up his masts and invited the Minerva to come and try for victory. Captain Richard Hawkins, who commanded her, thought best to tack and sail into the midst of his fleet, where, in case he was attacked, the eight hundred and odd soldiers who were on the transports could render him effective service by sweeping the decks of the Essex with their muskets, and by firing such cannon as the transports carried. James, who is the standard naval historian in the British navy, says of this affair:

“Had Captain Porter really endeavored to bring the Minerva to action we do not see what could have prevented the Essex, with her superiority of sailing, from coming alongside of her. But no such thought, we are sure, entered into Captain Porter’s head.”

David G. Farragut, of lasting fame, was a midshipman on the Essex, and was keeping a journal. He wrote:

“The captured British officers were very anxious for us to have a fight with the Minerva, as they considered her a good match for the Essex, and Captain Porter replied that he should gratify them with pleasure if his Majesty’s commander was of their taste. So we stood toward the convoy, and when within gunshot hove to, and awaited the Minerva; but she tacked and stood in among the convoy, to the utter amazement of our prisoners, who denounced the commander as a base coward, and expressed their determination to report him to the Admiralty.”

But to further explain the difference between long and short guns, it should be mentioned that the Minerva carried on her main deck the long twelves which Porter had wanted, and in a fight she would have been able to riddle the Essex while still far beyond the range of the short thirty-twos with which the American was armed. At pistol range the Essex was much more powerful, and she carried, moreover, fifty men more than the Minerva, though Captain Hawkins could not know that, and, doubtless, would have been ashamed to offer that as a reason for declining to fight.

Fight of the Essex and the Alert.

From an old wood-cut.

Until August 13th the Essex had no adventure. On that day, while cruising along under reefed top-sails, a ship was seen to windward that appeared to be a man-of-war. At this, drags were put over the stern of the Essex to hold her back, and then a few men were sent aloft to shake out the reefs, and the sails were then spread to the breeze exactly as a merchant-crew would have done it. The stranger was entirely deceived by this, and she came bowling down toward the Essex, which was now flying the British flag. The stranger having fired a gun, the Essex hove to until she had passed under her stern to leeward. Having now the weather-gage, the Essex suddenly filled away her main-sails, cut away the drags, hauled down the British flag, ran up the Stars and Stripes, and, throwing open her ports, ran out the muzzles of her guns.

At the sight of these doings the Englishmen gave three cheers, and, without waiting to get where their guns would bear effectively, they blazed away with grape and canister.

The Essex waited for a minute or two until her guns would bear, and then gave the stranger a broadside, “tompions and all,” as Midshipman Farragut wrote at the time. The effect on the stranger was stunning. Her crew were actually stunned into inaction, and all of them but three officers were severely reprimanded at the court-martial of the captain, and several of the lower officers were dishonorably dismissed from the service on a charge of cowardice. They tried to veer off and run away, but “she was in the lion’s reach,” to again quote the youngster, and within eight minutes the Essex was alongside, when the stranger fired a musket and then struck her flag.

The American officer who boarded her found that she was the corvette Alert, Captain Thomas L. P. Laugharne, carrying eighteen short thirty-twos and two long twelves, a very inferior force to that of the Essex. And yet the result of this brief contest was of the greatest significance. The British histories say the fight lasted fifteen minutes. Doubtless this means from the time the Alert’s crew cheered so vigorously until they hauled down their flag. Farragut says that it was eight minutes from the first broadside of the Essex until the flag came down, and this is not disputed. In eight minutes the Essex had shot the Alert so full of holes that when the American boat’s crew reached the beaten ship the water was seven feet deep in her hold in spite of the utmost efforts of her crew to check the leaks! Not a man was killed on the Alert, and only three were wounded. The gunners of the Essex aimed low—they shot to sink the enemy, and they wellnigh succeeded. No one was hurt on the Essex.

For several days after this the Essex, having repaired the Alert, cruised with her in tow, and then an incident occurred, the story of which brings out very clearly another characteristic of the American crews; that is to say, the care with which the green crews were trained from the day they came on board.

The number of prisoners on the Essex very greatly exceeded her crew after the capture of the Alert, for the Alert’s crew were added to the soldiers and men from the transport, while the Essex had put out two prize crews. Knowing this, the prisoners formed a plan to take the ship, the coxswain of the Alert’s gig being the leader in the conspiracy. Young Farragut happened to discover the plot on the night it was to be executed. He was lying in his hammock and saw the coxswain with a pistol in hand on the deck where the hammock was swinging. The coxswain was looking around to see if all was in order for his men to rise, and going to Farragut’s hammock, looked earnestly at the boy, who had the wit to feign sleep. But the moment the coxswain was gone, Farragut ran into the cabin and told Captain Porter, who sprang from his berth, and running out of his cabin began to shout:

“Fire! Fire!”

A more distressful cry than that is never heard at sea. To the prisoners it brought utter confusion. To the crew of the Essex it meant only that they were to hasten to fire-quarters for a night-drill—something to which they had been trained ever since leaving New York. Captain Porter had even built fires that sent up volumes of smoke through the hatches in order to make the crew face what seemed to be a real fire, and so had steadied their nerves. Now they promptly but coolly went to their quarters. It was then a simple matter to turn them on the mutineers.

An English Thirty-gun Corvette.

From an engraving by Merlo in 1794.

Afterwards the prisoners were sent to St. John’s, Newfoundland, in the Alert as a cartel. She was not by the letter of the law a proper cartel, for she was still at sea and quite likely to be captured, but it is pleasant to observe that Admiral Sir John T. Duckworth “generously sustained the agreement” made by Captain Laugharne. He wrote:

“It is utterly inconsistent with the laws of war to recognize the principle upon which this arrangement has been made. Nevertheless I am willing to give a proof at once of my respect for the liberality with which the captain of the Essex has acted in more than one instance toward the British subjects who had fallen into his hands; of the sacred obligation that is always felt to fulfil the engagements of a British officer, and of my confidence in the disposition of his Highness, the Prince Regent, to allay the violence of war by encouraging a reciprocation of that courtesy by which its pressure upon individuals may be so essentially diminished.”

SIR JOHN THOMAS DUCKWORTH, K.B.

Vice Admiral of the White Squadron.

There is still one more incident of this cruise worth describing. The Essex was chased by the British frigate Shannon and another ship when off St. George’s Bank. Captain Porter supposed that the speedier ship of the two was the fifty-gun Acasta, a much more powerful ship than the Shannon, and that a third ship he had seen with the two was also in chase. As the largest ship was gaining, and a splendid breeze for working the ship was blowing, Captain Porter planned a most daring defence. Running until night was fully come, he called his crew together and told them that he was going to tack ship, run alongside the enemy, and board her while under full sail. According to Farragut, Porter believed that the enemy would be sailing at the rate of eight knots an hour, at least, while his ship would foul her while going at not less than four knots. Nevertheless, the proposition was greeted with enthusiastic cheers.

The cause of the enthusiasm may be found readily in Farragut’s account of the crew. He says:

“Every day the crew were exercised at the great guns, small-arms, and single-stick. And I may here mention the fact that I have never been on a ship where the crew of the old Essex was represented, but that I found them to be the best swordsmen on board. They had been so thoroughly trained as boarders that every man was prepared for such an emergency, with his cutlass as sharp as a razor, a dirk made by the ship’s armorer out of a file, and a pistol.” They had been drilled until they had confidence in themselves as well as their leaders, and it was not an overweening confidence, either.

So a kedge anchor with a cable attached was hoisted to the end of the main-yard, where it could be readily dropped on the passing enemy as the two crashed together and so hold her fast. At the proper hour the Essex tacked in search of the enemy, but failed to find her.

At the end of sixty days from the time he sailed, Porter was back in port. He had captured nine prizes, with more than five hundred prisoners, and retaken five American privateers and merchantmen.

The little American navy was beginning in a small way to do something for the nation.

CHAPTER IV
A RACE FOR THE LIFE OF A NATION

STORY OF THE CONSTITUTION’S ESCAPE FROM A BRITISH SQUADRON OFF THE JERSEY BEACH—FOUR FRIGATES AND A LINER WERE AFTER HER—FOR MORE THAN TWO DAYS THE BRAVE OLD CAPTAIN STOOD AT HIS POST WHILE THE SHIP TACKED AND WORE AND REACHED AND RAN, AND THE TIRELESS SAILORS TOWED AND KEDGED AND WET THE SAILS TO CATCH THE SHIFTING AIR—THOUGH ONCE HALF-SURROUNDED AND ONCE WITHIN RANGE, OLD IRONSIDES ELUDED THE WHOLE SQUADRON TILL A FRIENDLY SQUALL CAME TO WRAP HER IN ITS BLACK FOLDS AND CARRY HER FAR FROM DANGER.

As the story of the first cruise of the Essex shows how thoroughly the American seamen were drilled in that day, and, after a fashion, somewhat of their skill in the use of weapons, so the story of an adventure of another American war-ship—an adventure that occurred soon after the Minerva refused to fight the Essex—shows in a splendid light their skill and unwearied strength as seamen. This adventure was the escape of the Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull, from a British squadron off the Jersey coast—somewhat to the south, indeed, of the modern racing ground between English and American crack yachts, but near enough to be worth mentioning.

The Constitution, after the Portsmouth incident, returned to Chesapeake Bay and was there cleaned and coppered. Before this work was done war was declared, but as soon as possible she was floated and a new crew shipped. This crew numbered, including officers, etc., four hundred and fifty. Of them Captain Hull wrote, at the time, to the Secretary of the Navy:

“The crew are as yet unacquainted with a ship-of-war, as many have but lately joined and have never been on an armed ship before.... We are doing all that we can to make them acquainted with their duty, and in a few days we shall have nothing to fear from any single-deck ship.”

That is to say, the crew contained many green hands instead of experienced sailors like those on the British war-ships. But though inexperienced they were intelligent—they could learn readily, and they were to a man willing. A most important fact about the American crews at that time was that even the landsmen were willing and able workers. The experienced members of the crews, of course, fought with a will in very many cases because of their hatred of the British press-gang. But that does not account for all the excellent qualities of the American crews. The Yankee was willing and able because he was the best-fed naval seaman in the world. The humane system of treatment, made imperative when the fathers of the nation were careful to provide that canvas for pudding-bags be served out at proper intervals, had been continued wherever American warships were found.

And it is worth noting in connection with this subject that when American and English ship-captains met socially during the interval between the Tripoli war and that of 1812 the English habitually sneered at the American system that gave the men plenty of good food and good pay, and prohibited an officer from striking a forecastleman, and limited the punishment by the lash to a dozen strokes, which could only be inflicted after a court-martial at that.

Leaving the capes of the Chesapeake on July 12, 1812, the Constitution beat her way slowly through light airs up the coast for five days. Then on Friday, the 17th, at 2 P.M., “being in twenty-two fathoms of water off Egg Harbor” (from twelve to fourteen miles offshore) “four sail of ships were discovered from the mast-head, to the northward and inshore—apparently ships-of-war.” Captain Hull thought they were the American squadron under Commodore Rodgers, and so held on his drifting course. Two hours later the lookout saw another sail. The others were northwesterly from the Constitution, but this one was in the northeast, and she was heading for the Constitution under full sail. But the fact that she was under full sail must not be taken as indicating that she was making any great headway. In fact, at sundown she was still so far off that her signals could not be made out.

However, this ship in the northeast was manifestly alone, and so Captain Hull stood for her. She might be a friend, but if she and the others were of the enemy it would be safer to attack the single one.

At about this time the breeze shifted to the south, and, wearing around, Captain Hull set studding-sails to starboard to help him along, and then as the light was fading in the west he beat to quarters. And thereafter with the men at their guns and peering through the ports for glimpses of the stranger the two ships drew slowly toward each other.

But they did not get together. At 10 o’clock Captain Hull hoisted his secret night-signal, by which American ships were to know each other, and kept it up for an hour. The stranger being unable to answer, it was plainly an enemy. Captain Hull had correctly concluded that the ships inshore were also of the enemy. So he “hauled off to the southward and eastward and made all sail.”

Isaac Hull.

From an engraving, at the Navy Department, Washington, of the painting by Stuart.

As the event proved, the lone ship for which the Constitution had been heading was the Guerrière, Captain Dacres, while the squadron in the northwest included the ship-of-the-line Africa, the frigates Shannon, Belvidera, and Eolus, and the United States brig Nautilus that the squadron had captured a short time before. The squadron was under Captain Philip Vere Broke, of the Shannon, and it had been sent out from Halifax immediately after the squadron of Commodore Rodgers had vainly chased the Belvidera.

Now, although Captain Hull headed the Constitution offshore, he did not by any means try to avoid the Guerrière. He held a course enough to the eastward to enable her to draw near. What he wanted was to draw her clear of the rest before he fought her. But in this he was not successful. At 3.30 o’clock the next morning (July 18th) the Guerrière was but half a mile from the Constitution, and the two were nearing each other hopefully, when the Guerrière saw for the first time the other ships spread out inshore in chase. At that Captain Dacres made the private British signal, but it was not answered because the captains inshore assumed that Dacres knew who they were—and that misunderstanding led these captains to say unpleasant things to each other afterwards.

Supposing that the failure to answer his signals was due to the ships inshore being Yankees, Captain Dacres wore the Guerrière around and ran away from the Constitution for some time before he discovered his mistake. Meantime the ships inshore had had the benefit of enough wind to bring them within dangerous distance of the Constitution, so that when the wind failed the Constitution, as it did at 5.30 in the morning, her condition was desperate. The Guerrière having once more entered the chase, there were four frigates and a ship of the line all spread out in such fashion as would enable them to take advantage of the slightest change in the direction of the wind, and three of them were less than five miles away. It was then that the most famous race between warships known to the annals of the American navy really began, for up to that time Captain Hull had not tried to avoid the Guerrière.

Seeing now that he must fly from all, Captain Hull called away all his boats, and running a line to them, sent them ahead, towing the Constitution away to southward. Although some little air was still wafting on the enemy they very promptly imitated the example of the Constitution. In fact, they did better, for the boats of the squadron were concentrated on two ships, and what with their aid and the faint zephyr blowing they gained rapidly on the Constitution. In fact, at 6 o’clock the Shannon, which was in the lead, opened fire on the Constitution, her captain being of the opinion that she was within reach of the long guns.

The shot failed to reach, but the captain of the Constitution “being determined they should not get her without resistance on our part, notwithstanding their force,” ordered one of the long twenty-four pounders brought from the gun-deck up to the poop where it would bear over the stern at the enemy. A long eighteen was brought from the forecastle to do similar service, while two long twenty-fours were run out of the cabin windows below.

• Africa.
• Constitution.
• Shannon.
• Eolus.
• Guerrière.
• Belvidera.

The Constitution’s Escape from the British Squadron after a Chase of Sixty Hours.

From an engraving by Hoogland of the picture by Corné.

At 7 o’clock one of these long twenty-fours was tried on the Shannon, but the ball fell short. It did some good, however, for it showed the enemy that their boats were in danger, and so prevented their towing fairly within gunshot.

But this by no means freed the Constitution. If they did not dare tow up within range astern, they could with their superior forces tow their vessels out on each side of her, and so far surround her as to absolutely prevent her escape when a wind did come, and the situation was apparently more nearly hopeless for the Constitution than at any time since the chase began.

In this emergency the wit of the “smart Yankee” executive officer of the Constitution—Lieutenant Charles Morris—gave the ship a new lease of life. Morris had had experience in towing a ship through crooked channels by means of a light anchor carried ahead with a line attached to haul on. This method of towing is called kedging. Dropping a lead-line over the rail, Morris found that the water was but one hundred and fifty-six feet deep, and suggested at once that they kedge her along.

A few minutes later the Constitution’s largest boat was rowing away ahead with a small anchor on board, and stretching out a half mile of lines and cables knotted together. When that anchor was dropped to the bottom the men on the ship began to haul in on the line—to walk away with it at a smart pace, and the speed of the Constitution, which at best had been no more than a mile an hour, was at once trebled. She was literally clawing her way out of trouble, clear of the enemy.

Meantime another kedge and a fresh line were made ready, so that by the time the crew had tracked the ship to the first anchor a second one was in the mud a half mile ahead and ready for them. In this way a substantial gain was made on the enemy, who lagged under the slower work of the men towing with small boats.

Towing a Becalmed Frigate.

From a picture drawn and engraved by Baugean.

Finally, at 9.10 A.M., a light air was seen on the oil-smooth water in the south. The yards of the Constitution were at once braced sharp up to meet it, and by the time its breath had filled the sails the willing crew had the boats alongside and hoisted out of the water—some to the davits where they belonged, and some lifted by spare spars, rigged over the rail, just clear of the water, where they could be dropped the instant they were needed.

But if the wind gave the sailors who had been on deck all night long a brief chance to rest, it was after all of more advantage to the enemy than to the Constitution. For she had had to change her course when the breeze came, and that change was sending her closer to the Guerrière, instead of further away. Worse yet, it seemed to the Yankees that their sails had no more than rounded full under the caress of the zephyr than it failed them again, and once more the canvas rattled and slapped the creaking spars.

The Guerrière now began firing, and there was nothing to do but once more to stretch out the lines with the kedge anchor and begin anew the tracking the Constitution ahead. For an hour the weary men stretched out their tow-line and hauled it in and stretched and hauled again. Captain Hull had lightened the ship by starting nine or ten tons of water, and the Constitution was just beginning to show a fair gain once more over the enemy when Captain Byron of the Belvidera saw how it was that the Yankees were clawing away, and adopted the same tactics.

Immediately this was done the boats from the fleet flocked with men to her deck to help haul in on the line—flocked there with men who were fresh and strong from the decks of the other ships, while the men of the Constitution were worn with the loss of sleep the night before and the fierce efforts of the morning.

By 2 o’clock in the afternoon these fresh men had drawn the Belvidera so near that she opened fire, and, although the shots fell short, Captain Hull now supposed he would surely be captured, and so prepared to make a good fight with the first ship in hope of disabling her before the rest could come to help. But the Belvidera, not wishing to risk her anchor-carrying boats within range of the Constitution’s guns, was content to claw forward on the Yankee’s quarter just out of range, while the Shannon and Eolus strove to help partially surround the Constitution once more.

The Belvidera began kedging at 10.30 o’clock in the morning. The Constitution had been at it for an hour already. Steadily the two crews labored at the heart-breaking task until 3 o’clock in the afternoon, when once more a zephyr from the south roughened the oily waves and then lifted first the royals of the Constitution and then the top-gallant sails. The heavy canvas of top-sails and courses would not swell to its weight, but the kites could pull her. It was a fitful, varying breath, but it lasted four hours, and during that time the Americans actually held the braces by which the sails were trimmed constantly in hand, while the brave old captain kept his eyes on the weather-vane and jockeyed her along as a racing skipper handles his yacht. It was a race for a stake such as has never been known on any coast, for it was a race for the life of a nation. Had Old Ironsides been captured while Rodgers was making his fruitless cruise, and imbeciles were leading worthless militia in a day-dream scheme of conquest toward Canada, the result would have been deadly.

As night came on (it was at 7 o’clock) this breeze failed once more. It then lacked less than an hour of a full day since the men had been called to quarters. For twenty-three hours they had stood at their guns, had made and taken in and trimmed sail, had lowered and rowed away and hoisted up boats, had carried out anchors and hauled on the cables till they gasped for breath. It had been a day to wear the life out of any ordinary man, but, as John Paul Jones said on the deck of the Bonhomme Richard, these could say now: “We have not yet begun to fight.” In spite of weariness, the instant the zephyr failed them these men once more dropped the boats and carried out the small anchors with the long lines and began again to claw their way clear of the enemy. Until 10.45 P.M. they worked with steady patience, and then another teasing zephyr came to fill the sails of the ship, and the boats except one were all hoisted clear of the water. During all this time the Guerrière and the Belvidera had fairly held their own, being aided by the men from the other ships. The Shannon had dropped back a deal, but the Eolus was not by any means far enough away to be ignored. But when the breeze came, the Belvidera got enough of the flaws of air to forge ahead, so that soon after daylight (at 4 o’clock) on the morning of July 19th she was well forward on the lee beam of the Constitution, and, tacking about, she stood for the Yankee. If the Constitution held fast as she was the Belvidera was sure to pass within easy gunshot astern and deliver a raking fire that would play havoc with spars and sails. If the Constitution tacked also, the Eolus, off on the Yankee’s weather-quarter, would have a chance of forging within gunshot. The Constitution was cornered and a choice had to be made.

Going about at 4.20 A.M. on the other tack, Captain Hull headed across the bows of the Eolus. He was now steering out to sea, and to the joy of the Americans the sails swelled under a faint improvement in the breeze. An hour later they were crossing ahead of the Eolus within range of long guns, but the Englishman did not open fire and the Constitution passed free. The Eolus when in the wake of the Constitution tacked, and then Captain Hull had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy once more all astern of him. It was not that he was out of danger. There were four frigates—the Belvidera, the Eolus, the Guerrière, and the Shannon—all after him, but he had escaped being surrounded. The line-of-battle-ship and the smaller craft had been left so far astern as to be out of the race.

For several hours after this the race was without incident, though so far as the eye could judge the Constitution gained slightly in the faint-air race, but at 9 o’clock a strange sail arrived within plain view to the southward. She was evidently bound to New York. To decoy her (for she looked like a Yankee) the Belvidera hoisted American colors, but Captain Hull stopped that game by hoisting the British ensign, whereat the merchantman braced up and escaped, while the Constitution slipped along with every thread drawing and the green water between her and the enemy slowly widening, until at noon the nearest one was estimated to be three and a half miles astern. The wide-beam, shoal-draft ship had the best of the race in a light air, as others have since had in races of less importance near the same ground.

Chase of the Constitution off the Jersey Coast.

From the painting by Inch at the Naval Academy, Annapolis.

The crew were now, for the first time, able to get some rest. Officers and men alike stretched out on deck and slept as men may who for thirty-six hours have worked for life, but the brave old sailor who commanded the ship stood to his post. Throughout the afternoon the lead of the Constitution was slightly increased, but at 4 o’clock the wind began to weaken, to the disadvantage of the flying Yankee, for she ran out of the breeze, and the enemy held it for a time after she lost it, and so drew up until within perhaps three miles. There was nothing to do now but get out all the boats to a tow-line, for the water was too deep for kedging.

And then came the last and most stirring event of the long race. A heavy cloud appeared away to southward and eastward, the first sign of one of the black squalls with which American coasters are over-familiar. A fearsome spectacle they are to the unaccustomed, nor do they lack weight of wind at any time, but to the men of the Constitution this squall was a Godsend.

Knowing very well what the Englishmen would think of the looks of the squall, Captain Hull kept his boats at their towing and sent the men about deck to the belaying pins, where sheets and tacks and halyards were made fast, while others stretched out clew-lines and bunt-lines, and downhauls. Standing so with everything in hand, he watched the coming cloud until the frothing spoondrift was within a mile, and the first faint breath of it was lifting the royals, and then to the shrill pipe of the boatswain called the boats alongside. As they were hooking on the tackles the blast struck the ship. Over she heeled as if to go on her beam ends, lifting the boats to windward clear of the water, while the men at the halyards and sheets let go all, and all hands clapped on to the clew-lines and downhauls and boat-tackles. In a moment the last sail had been clewed into a bunt, and the boats to windward and leeward were snatched to the davits and spars rigged to receive them.

Turning then, to look at the enemy, he saw the men climbing aloft and with eager haste furling everything, while their boats were left to shift as they might in the foaming sea. They had supposed from what they saw of the effect of the squall on the Constitution that it was even worse than it looked, and they snugged down their ships accordingly.

And then, as the friendly rain and vapor of the squall veiled the wily Yankee, he spread his sails—sails that had not been furled—to the gale and “went off on an easy bowline at the rate of eleven knots an hour.”

The race was won. At 7.30 P.M., when the squall had passed and the enemy once more came in view, the leading ship, the Belvidera, was not only a long way astern, but she had the wind in such fashion as to be unable to hold up within two points of the course the Constitution was steering. And yet in their mad efforts to overhaul the Yankee after they felt the weight of the squall, the British captains had cut adrift their small boats, that they might not be obliged to stop and pick them up or be encumbered with the weight.

The winds proved light and baffling all night, but having observed how much better the sails held the air while they were wet, Captain Hull started his force-pumps at work to keep the lower sails wet, and sent men to the highest yards to draw up water in buckets and keep everything drenched to the highest thread. It was a plan that worked admirably. In spite of the baffling zephyrs, the Yankee gained all night, so that at daylight only the loftier sails of the enemy were visible, and at 8.15 on the morning of Monday, July 20, 1812, the British squadron gave it up and squared away for Sandy Hook, leaving the triumphant Constitution to head away to Boston to obtain another supply of water in place of that she had started to decrease her draft. From Friday afternoon until Monday morning the British frigates, including the swift Belvidera that had eluded the President, were in chase of the Yankee clipper. Certainly they showed “great perseverance, good seamanship, and ready invitation,” but “the cool old Yankee” justified the praise which Lord Nelson gave us when he said, in the Mediterranean, that “there is in the handling of those transatlantic ships a nucleus of trouble for the navy of Great Britain.”

The Constitution Bearing Down for the Guerrière.

From an old wood-cut.

CHAPTER V
THE CONSTITUTION AND THE GUERRIÈRE

THE BRITISH CAPTAIN COULD SCARCELY BELIEVE THAT A YANKEE WOULD BE BOLD ENOUGH TO ATTACK HIM, AND WAS SURE OF VICTORY IN LESS THAN AN HOUR, BUT WHEN THE YANKEES HAD BEEN FIRING AT THE GUERRIÈRE FOR THIRTY MINUTES SHE WAS A DISMANTLED HULK, RAPIDLY SINKING OUT OF SIGHT—“THE SEA NEVER ROLLED OVER A VESSEL WHOSE FATE SO STARTLED THE WORLD”—SUNDRY ADMISSIONS HER LOSS EXTORTED FROM THE ENEMY—A COMPARISON OF THE SHIPS.

Having noted, in the stories of the actions hitherto described, somewhat of the training, skill, and good-will of the American seamen in the use of naval weapons, and their masterful knowledge of seamanship, the time arrives for telling how one of these Yankee frigates won the first signal victory of the war—the victory of the Constitution over the Guerrière. But it will add to the pleasure of every American reader if the opinions which the British captain expressed about his ship, both before and after the battle, be told before the battle is described.

At the time the Guerrière went into the fight she was commanded by Captain James Richard Dacres. In the course of the cruise during which the squadron under Broke chased the Constitution, Captain Dacres dined on board the Shannon. While pacing the deck of the Shannon, after dinner, and talking with Broke, Captain Dacres said emphatically of his ship:

“I say, she looks beautiful; and more, she’d take an antagonist in half the time the Shannon could.”

On making full allowance for a captain’s disposition to boast unduly of the qualities of his ship, it is still fair to say that Dacres considered her at any rate equal to the Shannon, although the Shannon carried more guns.

To strengthen this conclusion it may be added that Captain Dacres sent a challenge to Captain Rodgers of the President, which was a sister ship to the Constitution. Further than that we have the words of Captain Dacres when he was court-martialled for losing her: “I am so well aware that the success of my opponent was owing to fortune, that it is my earnest wish, and would be the happiest moment of my life, to be once more opposed to the Constitution in a frigate of similar force to the Guerrière.”

These assertions must appear to every reader to be a confession of faith in his ship. Nor was Captain Dacres alone in his belief that she was a good one.

“The Guerrière is as fine a frigate as we can boast of,” said the St. Christopher’s Gazette in the same year, while lamenting her loss.

What the English newspapers thought of the Constitution before this battle with the Guerrière is also worth repeating. The opinions they expressed were, of course, a repetition of those expressed by British naval officers, who had visited her at various times, but notably after she had called at Portsmouth as related in a preceding chapter. They spoke of her as “a bunch of pine boards,” and as “a fir-built ship with a bit of striped bunting at her mast-head,” and “their opinions gave rise to various excellent jokes that were uttered in and out of the British Parliament at the commencement of the war.”

To these statements must be added the further fact that the boastful captain of the Guerrière had taken the trouble to notify the Americans that his ship “was not the Little Belt,” referring to the affair in which the Little Belt was so severely pounded by a Yankee frigate.

The Constitution sailed from Boston on August 2, 1812. Captain Hull had reported his escape from the British squadron in a modest letter to the Navy Department, but he did not wait for further orders from the Secretary. He conjectured that his narrow escape would so frighten the timid officials, who had previously warned him in his official instructions not to voluntarily engage any superior force, that they would keep him lying inactive in port. In this conjecture he was entirely right, for a few days after he had sailed, orders to that effect did arrive. A good naval authority says that “had the Constitution been captured on the cruise, Hull would have been hanged or shot for sailing without orders.” It has often been a matter of consolation to American naval officers in these last years of the nineteenth century to read of the incapacity and cowardice of department officials in the early years of it.

Having taken the risk, Captain Hull coasted along to the north as far as the entrance to the Gulf of St. Lawrence. On August 15th five vessels were seen in a bunch, and on approaching them, four scattered away, leaving the fifth, a brig, on fire. One was chased and found to be an English merchantman in the hands of an American prize crew. Before night the American brig Adeline was overhauled and taken from the British prize crew found on board of her. On the night of the 18th a third vessel was overhauled after a smart race, and this was an unfortunate affair, for she proved to be the American privateer Decatur, of fourteen guns, twelve of which had been thrown overboard in her mad race with the Constitution.

From the captain of the Decatur Captain Hull learned that a British frigate had been seen the day before steering to the southward under easy sail. On hearing that, Captain Hull crowded the canvas on the Constitution in chase of her.

There were light westerly breezes during the night and early morning following, but as the day wore on the breeze canted to the northwest and freshened until the Constitution, with all plain sail set, was bowling along at little less than the speed she attained in her spurt away from the fleet off Barnegat. Until after dinner nothing was seen, but before the 2-o’clock bell was struck the lookout astride the fore-royal-yard stirred the crew with the prolonged cry of

“Sail-ho!”

It is said that half the men about deck climbed into the rigging in their eagerness to see the stranger, and within a few minutes their curiosity was gratified, when it appeared plainly that she was a large ship steering to the southwest. So, with sheets eased, the Constitution headed away for her, and by half-past 3 o’clock the Yankee crew had not only learned that she was a British frigate, but that her captain was ready to fight, for he set his flag and made no effort to get away.

The first measure of strength between a British and an American frigate—the battle between the Guerrière and the Constitution—was at hand.

Over on the Guerrière, Captain Dacres, when he first saw the Constitution boldly bearing down upon him, was doubtful about her character, and he was good enough to consult in the matter with an American prisoner whom he had on board—Captain Orne, of the American brig Betsey, captured some time before. The American skipper said it was a Yankee frigate that was coming. To this Captain Dacres replied that he thought she came down too boldly for an American, but added: “The better he behaves the more honor we shall gain by taking him.” A little later, when the colors had been displayed, he called out to the crew:

“There is a Yankee frigate; in forty-five minutes she is certainly ours. Take her in fifteen and I promise you four months’ pay.”

This must have been said at about twenty minutes past 4 o’clock, for it was at that time that the English officers hoisted flags to every mast-head and opened fire, “more with a view to try the distance than for any effectual attack.”

Action between the Constitution and the Guerrière.—I.

From the painting by Birch, at the Naval Academy, Annapolis.

At that Captain Hull began to shorten sail on the Constitution. The breeze was steady and fresh, and the water fairly smooth. It was just the kind of weather he would have chosen for such a battle. All the light sails, including the top-gallant sails, were furled, the courses were hauled up to the yards, and the royal-yards were sent down. Then the top-sails were double-reefed, and as the men came down from the top-sail-yards the drums beat to quarters. Not many of the crew had ever been in battle, but “from the smallest boy in the ship to the oldest seaman not a look of fear was seen.”

The enemy’s first shots fell short, but the second round passed over the deck of the Constitution, though without doing any damage. A deal of what a yachtsman would call jockeying for position followed. The enemy squared away before the wind, and wore around until her port (left side) battery would bear, and then, as the Constitution was coming down the wind and following close after her, she wore back till her starboard (right side) battery would bear. As she turned from side to side she fired on the Constitution. The Constitution replied with an occasional shot from a bow-gun. The enemy was twisting about to avoid being raked by the Constitution, and was firing to cripple the enemy’s rigging. But all that the twisting amounted to was to keep the Guerrière at “long balls”—out of range of the shorter guns of the Constitution. To end that kind of work Captain Hull spread his maintopgallant sail and foresail. Impelled by these, the Constitution began to forge within close range, and the projectiles from the Guerrière began to come on board. One big shot through the forward bulwarks knocked no end of splinters across the deck, and some of them pierced several of a gun’s crew hard by. The men were eager to return the fire, but Captain Hull paced the quarter-deck, saying nothing. A rousing cheer from the British crew came over the water as they saw that they had hulled the Constitution. Lieutenant Morris walked aft, and said to Captain Hull:

“The enemy has opened fire and killed two of our men. Shall we return it?”

Action between the Constitution and the Guerrière.—II.

From the painting by Birch, at the Naval Academy, Annapolis.

“Not yet, sir,” replied Captain Hull. The captain was waiting for a shorter range. Twice more Lieutenant Morris, to ease the minds of the impatient gunners, walked aft to ask permission to fire, and each time received the same answer. The Guerrière had meantime steered away before the wind; the clipper stem of the Yankee was overreaching the Englishman’s quarter only a few yards away from it; our guns were brought to bear, and then stooping till “he split his knee-breeches from waistband to buckle,” Captain Hull straightened up again to his full height and shouted in a voice heard all over the ship:

“Now, boys; pour it into them!”

With a yell they obeyed. The broadside was as a single explosion. The crash of the iron balls through the splintering timbers of the Guerrière came back as an echo, and as she rolled with the swell the blood of the dead and wounded gushed from her scuppers. The Yankee gunners had aimed as if feeling still the claws of the British cat in their backs.

The Constitution in Close Action with the Guerrière.

From an old wood-cut.

It was at 6.05 A.M. that this first broadside was fired from the American ship. For fifteen minutes the roar of the cannon and the rattle of musketry, and the crash of solid shot that struck home were incessant. The ships were literally yard-arm to yard-arm, rising and sinking over the long swells as they drove away before the wind. The British in mad haste pulled their lanyards and fired the moment their guns were primed. The Americans loaded in haste, but paused each time until their gun-sights ranged on hull or spar, and then they fired.

At 6.20 A.M. a big round shot from the Constitution crashed through the mizzen-mast of the Guerrière, and away it went, over the rail to starboard. Snatching off his hat, Captain Hull waved it above his head.

“Hurrah, my boys! we’ve made a brig of her!” he shouted.

Action between the Constitution and the Guerrière.—III.

From the painting by Birch, at the Naval Academy, Annapolis.

They had done more. The mast was still held by its rigging, and, dragging in the water, it brought the Guerrière around partly across the wind. The Constitution forged ahead, swung her yards, ported her helm, and ranging across the enemy’s bows gave her a raking broadside. The Guerrière’s main-yard came tumbling down, shot through at the mast. Then, swinging around before the wind, the Yankee brought her port battery to bear and gave the Guerrière a second raking. So close together were the two ships now that the Guerrière’s bowsprit came poking over the quarter-deck of the Constitution. A man on the Constitution reached out of a cabin port and placed his hand on the enemy’s figure-head. The Guerrière’s bowsprit fouled the Constitutions port mizzen rigging and the bow-chasers of the Guerrière began to play havoc with the cabin of the Constitution, which was soon on fire from blazing wads.

Note.—The accounts of the manœuvres differ widely, but it is agreed that the real fighting began at 6 o’clock with the Constitution on the port quarter of the enemy. When fairly abeam, the mizzen-mast of the Guerrière fell over to port, according to Allen, and dragged her nose up to the starboard side of the Constitution; when the Constitution drove clear the two remaining masts of the Guerrière fell. The Constitution after repairs to her rigging, returned at 7 o’clock.

As the men on the Constitution ran to extinguish this fire Captain Dacres on the Guerrière called away boarders, intending to climb along his bowsprit to reach the Constitution’s quarter-deck, but when he saw the men on the Constitution ready to receive him he thought differently about it. The Yankees then thought to board, and brave Lieutenant Bush, of the marines, jumped on the rail for the honor of leading the way, and there was shot dead by a British marine. For a few moments the two ships hung together, sawing up and down, while the bulk of each crew was massed for boarding and the topmen on each ship poured a galling fire into the other. Lieutenant Morris was shot through the body and Master Alwyn was but little less severely wounded. Captain Hull climbed part way upon the rail, but a big Yankee seaman dragged him back unceremoniously, and begged him not to do that unless he first took “off them swabs”—pointing to the captain’s gold epaulets. A sailor who fired a pistol at one of the enemy and missed him, threw the pistol with better, though not fatal, aim. He hit the fellow in the breast. And then the flag at the Constitution’s mizzen-truck was shot down. The enemy cheered, but John Hogan shinned up and replaced it, although a number of British marines fired at him steadily all the time he was exposed.

At last the larger spread of canvas on the Constitution pulled her clear, and then, as she began to swing around into position to open fire again, both the main and the foremast of the Guerrière that had been badly cut by the American shot went over the rail with a crash, and there she lay a helpless hulk.

It was then exactly 6.23 o’clock, or about two hours since the firing of the first gun from the Guerrière. But from the time that the Constitution fired her first broadside, it was less than thirty minutes.

Action between the Constitution and the Guerrière.—IV.

From the painting by Birch, at the Naval Academy, Annapolis.

Veering off for a brief interval, the Constitution’s crew made hasty repairs to the rigging, and then came back with guns loaded. They found the Guerrière in the trough of the sea rolling her main-deck guns under water with every passing swell.

The Constitution had been at her less than thirty minutes, but all three of her masts had been shot away, and were dragging over the rail by such of the shrouds as had not been cut by the shot of the Yankees. Her hull was knocked into a sieve by the Yankee round-shot. Thirty of these projectiles had penetrated her more than four feet below the water-line. The cool Yankee gunner had watched her rolling her side out of water and then aimed his gun at the copper below the water-line. Out of a crew of two hundred and seventy-two, twenty-three men were dead or mortally hurt, and fifty-six were more or less severely wounded—more than one-fourth of her crew had been hit in that brief time. On the Constitution seven men had been killed and seven wounded, while her hull had scarcely been touched below the bulwarks.

The Constitution was ready for an all-night battle. The Guerrière was ready only for the torch. She was “a perfect wreck.” She could not be carried into port and had to be burned.

There was no flag flying on the Guerrière when the Constitution returned to her, and so Third Lieutenant George Campbell Read was sent off in a boat to hail her. Pulling under her lee quarter he found Captain Dacres leaning over the rail, and asked him if he had surrendered. According to the careful Maclay the following conversation took place—when Captain Dacres replied:

“I don’t know that it would be prudent to continue the engagement any longer.”

“Do I understand you to say that you have struck?” asked Lieutenant Read.

“Not precisely,” returned Dacres, “but I don’t know that it will be worth while to fight any longer.”

“If you cannot decide, I will return aboard my ship and we will resume the engagement,” said the American officer.

To this Captain Dacres called out somewhat excitedly: “Why, I am pretty much hors de combat already. I have hardly men enough left to work a single gun, and my ship is in a sinking condition.”

“I wish to know, sir,” peremptorily demanded Lieutenant Read, “whether I am to consider you a prisoner of war or an enemy. I have no time for further parley.”

Captain Dacres replied with evident reluctance: “I believe now there is no alternative. If I could fight longer I would, with pleasure; but—I—must—surrender.”

Sir James Richard Dacres.

From an English engraving published in 1811.

Read continued:

“Commodore Hull’s compliments, and wishes to know whether you need the assistance of a surgeon or surgeon’s mate?”

“Well, I should suppose you had on board your own ship business enough for all your medical officers,” replied Dacres.

“Oh, no,” said Read, blithely, “we had only seven wounded, and they were dressed half an hour ago.”

The end of it was that Captain Dacres was carried on board the Constitution. He had been wounded, but was able to climb the rope-ladder to her deck, and there he found Captain Hull awaiting him. It was a notable meeting in more ways than one—physically among the rest. For Hull was short, rotund, and jolly—very much like our portraits of John Bull—while Dacres was tall, lank, and serious—not much different from a typical New Englander. Hull helped the beaten captain to the deck, saying heartily: “Dacres, give me your hand, I know you are hurt.” A moment later Captain Dacres made a formal offer of his sword, but Hull refused it.

“No, no,” he said, “I will not take a sword from one who knows so well how to use it; but I’ll trouble you for that hat.”

This apparently incongruous remark was due to the fact that when Dacres had met Hull socially before the war he had offered to bet a hat that the Guerrière would whip the Constitution if they ever met, and Hull accepted the bet.

It was on the afternoon of August 21, 1812, that the wreck of the Guerrière was fired and blown to the four winds of heaven by the triumphant Yankees, and from that day to this the naval writers of both England and America have been trying to tell how it was that the Guerrière was so badly beaten in so short a time. A half-dozen different explanations may be found in the books of any great nation, and all are very much alike, even though written by partisans. They give the details of the battle, how the ships approached each other; how they veered and wore; how the crews cheered; how they fired the guns; how the splinters flew; how the blood flowed from the scuppers—of one ship; how with great reluctance the one surrendered. Then with one accord the writers set to work to examine the hulk of the Guerrière. Was it sound or rotten? They counted the guns. How many did each ship have in a broadside? They measured the calibres of the guns. They weighed the projectiles. “Why, blow me, sir! The Constitution had long twenty-fours to our eighteens!” “All right, but by gosh, our shot were seven per cent. under weight!” They considered the gunpowder chemically to see whether or not it had deteriorated on the Guerrière. They counted the crews. They considered every little detail.

As we look back at a distance of eighty-five years upon the battle it must seem to a candid student of naval matters that the excuses and the explanations were hardly worthy of the great peoples engaged in making them. Nevertheless, because it is the conventional thing, these details shall be given here:

The Constitution measured (Roosevelt’s account) 1,576 tons; the Guerrière, 1,338. The Constitution could fire 27 guns in a broadside, throwing 684 pounds of metal (actual weight); the Guerrière, 25 guns, throwing 556 pounds of metal. The Constitution carried 456 men; the Guerrière but 272. The Constitution lost, as already told, 7 killed and 7 wounded; while the Guerrière lost 23 killed and 56 wounded—over one-fourth of her crew. The comparative force of the ships rated by these standards, was as 100 to 70; the comparative casualties were as 18 to 100. To this may be added that the relative injury to the ships was as 100 to nothing.

Arguing from these figures the British writers say that the Constitution was “a seventy-four-gun ship of the line in disguise.” “Why should not any American feel proud of that assertion?” For if it be so, the old Quaker ship-builder of Philadelphia was not only the greatest ship-builder in America, but in the whole world. When the British officers called her so they confessed that when they had called her “a bunch of pine boards” they were mistaken. They confessed that they had been utterly incapable of judging the fighting worth of the Constitution, although they had gone over her and examined her carefully.

The British point to the fact that our most powerful projectiles came from twenty-four pounders, while theirs were from eighteens. Here again they confess their own inability to arm a ship. They had for twenty years been fighting the navies of Europe. Out of the experience there gained they had decided that the long eighteens were the best calibre for the main-deck battery of a frigate. The last frigates launched from British ship-yards previous to this battle were armed with long eighteens. The British officers who inspected the Constitution from time to time before the war of 1812 ridiculed the idea of trying to fight with long twenty-fours. The long twenty-fours were “too heavy!” But when their best frigates had been defeated by the Yankees they began to weigh the projectiles and learned that their defeat was due to the much ridiculed twenty-fours.

If the British had carried their investigations into the size of the shot a trifle further—to the mechanism of the guns, for instance—they would have learned something of real significance. They would have seen that the cannon of the Constitution were furnished with sights. The Guerrière lost her masts not by accident, but because the cool Yankee gunners could aim their weapons accurately.

But the most important—rather the most pleasing of all the confessions in the British explanations after defeat is that relating to the superior numbers of the American crews. The count showed 456 individuals on the Constitution, and 272 on the Guerrière. To contend, as the British writers do contend, that the “superiority on the American side “was” in number of men as—nine to five,” is to admit that man for man, an American naval seaman, in spite of his lack of experience, was the equal of the tar-stained, cicatrice-marked British seaman; and that was a confession which Americans in those days (not now) were most anxious to extort.

But the British writers did not stop at this confession. They went further and admitted all the most boastful Yankee could have wished. They said (vide the British Naval Chronicle), that “the few on board an American ship-of-war that are designated as boys are as old and stout as most men employed in our service.”

And the last of all is the confession of the same periodical that “had the Guerrière’s men been half as well skilled in the use of great guns as the Constitution’s were, the proportion of killed and wounded would not have been so great nor one ship made a complete wreck of while the other suffered no material injury in hull or rigging.”

Isaac did so maul and rake her

That the decks of Captain Dacre

Were in such a woful pickle

As if Death, with scythe and sickle,

With his sling or with his shaft

Had cut his harvest fore and aft.

Thus, in thirty minutes, ended

Mischiefs that could not be mended;

Masts and yards and ship descended

All to David Jones’s locker——

Such a ship, in such a pucker!

So sang the old-time Yankee rhymester of the ship that “was not the Little Belt.”