Pike & Cutlass: Hero Tales of Our Navy

He knew that he could not hope for a hospitable reception at any port he visited, but if he could keep his magazine and store-rooms supplied, determined to capture or destroy every vessel flying the British flag in those waters.

He started on his long voyage at the end of January, 1813, during the Southern summer season, when the gales and hurricanes in that region are at their fiercest. He had not been at sea very long before the scurvy broke out on the ship, and it was only by the most rigorous discipline and cleanliness that the disease was kept under control. By the middle of February the “Essex” reached the Cape, and, the weather having been moderately free from squalls, they were congratulating themselves on avoiding the usual dangers of those waters when a storm came up which in a short time began to blow with hurricane force. Gale succeeded gale, followed by intervals of calm, but nothing terrifying occurred until towards the end of February, when a storm which exceeded all the others in its fierceness began to blow. They were near a barren country, and, even should they reach land, there was no possible chance of escaping the slow torture of death from hunger and thirst. Great gray waves, measuring hundreds of feet from crest to crest, swept them resistlessly on towards the menacing shore, which could be seen dimly through the driving spray frowning to leeward. Many of the waves broke clear over the little frigate, knocking in her ports, opening her timbers, battering her boats to pieces as they swung on the davits, and loosening her bowsprit and other spars so that they threatened at each movement to go by the board. The crew, weakened and disheartened by disease and the excess of labor, lost heart and considered the “Essex” a doomed ship. David Glascoe Farragut, then a midshipman aboard of her, afterwards wrote that never before had he seen good seamen so paralyzed by fear at the mere terrors of the sea. On the third day an enormous wave struck her fairly on the weather-bow and broadside, and she went over on her beam ends, burying her lee-bulwark in the foam. It looked for a moment as if she would never right herself. The ports on the gun-deck were all stove in and she seemed to be filling with water. The head-rails were swept away, and one of the cutters was lifted bodily from the davits and smashed against the wheel. The fellows there stood bravely at their posts, though thoroughly terrified at the position of the ship. The water poured down below, and the men on the gun-deck thought she was already plunging to the bottom. The grizzly boatswain, crazy with fear, cried out in his terror, —

“The ship’s broadside is stove in! We are sinking!”

That was the greatest of their dangers, though, and better days were in store for them. Early in March the “Essex” succeeded in reaching Mocha Island, and the men, starved on half and quarter rations, were sent ashore to hunt wild hogs and horses. These were shot in numbers and salted down for food. The crew soon regained their health and spirits, and Porter sailed away for Valparaiso, putting in there to refit his damaged rigging and spars.

And now began a cruise which is numbered among the most successful in the country’s history. Porter had been at sea but a few days when he overhauled a Peruvian privateer, the “Nereyda.” To his surprise, twenty-four American sailors were found prisoners aboard of her. When asked to explain, the Peruvian captain replied that as his country was an ally of Great Britain, and that as war was soon to be declared between Spain and America, he thought he would anticipate matters and be sure of his prizes. Porter, in forcible English, explained the Peruvian’s mistake, and, to make the matter more clear, threw all his guns and ammunition overboard, so that he might repent of his folly in a more diplomatic condition.

The Peruvian captain begrudgingly gave Porter a list of all the English vessels in those waters. The first one captured was the whaler “Barclay.” On the 29th of April the “Essex” took the “Montezuma,” with a cargo of fourteen hundred barrels of whale-oil. Later in the same day the “Georgiana” and the “Policy” were overhauled. These prizes, with their cargoes, in England were worth half a million dollars; but, better than money, they were plentifully supplied with ropes, spars, cordage, stores, and ammunition, of which Porter still stood badly in need.

Finding that the “Georgiana” was a fast sailer and pierced for eighteen guns, Porter decided to make use of her as a cruiser, and, fitting her up, placed Lieutenant Downes in command of her, with forty men for a crew. Then the “Essex” took the “Atlantic” and the “Greenwich.” With this very respectable squadron Porter sailed for the mainland, Lieutenant Downes in the “Georgiana” meanwhile capturing without great difficulty the “Catharine” and the “Rose.” A third vessel, the “Hector,” fought viciously, but was eventually secured after a stiff little battle.

Young Farragut had been made the prize-master of the “Barclay.” He was only twelve years old, but Captain Porter, who was very fond of him, was confident of his ability to bring the ship into port. The English captain had been persuaded to act as navigator; but once out of sight of the squadron he refused to sail for Valparaiso. He afterwards said it was merely to frighten the boy. But the boy did not frighten at all. Instead he called one of his best seamen to him and ordered sail made. Then he told the captain that if he did not go below and stay there he would have him thrown overboard. The Englishman retreated below precipitately, and Farragut brought the ship safely in, a first proof of the courage and skill he was to show in after-life. Few boys of twelve would have done it even in those days when midshipmen soon became men regardless of age.

The “Atlantic,” being reckoned the fastest vessel of her kind afloat in those waters, was now given to Downes, who had been promoted to master-commandant, and renamed the “Essex Junior.” She was given twenty guns and sixty men, and soon proved her worth. All of this time Porter had been self-supporting. Neither he nor his squadron had cost his government a penny in money, and the prizes he captured, including the “Charlton,” “Seringapatam,” “New Zealand,” and “Sir Andrew Hammond,” could not be reckoned much short of a million and a half of dollars, a tremendous sum in those days, when the pay of a captain of a naval vessel was only twelve hundred dollars, – less than the pay of a boatswain to-day.

But Porter grew tired of his easy victories over merchantmen and privateers. He had succeeded in frightening the ships of the British entirely from the ocean. His one ship, a small frigate, had complete control in the South Pacific, and the Admiralty wondered at the skill and ingenuity of a man who could manage his fleets so adroitly. They determined to capture him; and two smart ships, the “Phœbe” and the “Cherub,” were sent out for this purpose. Porter heard of their coming, and was willing enough to meet them if it were possible. He went to Nukahiva, in the Marquesas Islands, to put the “Essex” in thorough repair and give his men a rest. He remained there two months, sailing near the end of the year 1813 for Valparaiso, with the hope of their meeting the English cruisers.

The “Essex” had been there but a month when the “Essex Junior,” which was cruising in the offing in anticipation of the arrival of the British ships, signalled, “Two enemy’s ships in sight.” Half the crew of the “Essex” were ashore enjoying sailor-men’s liberty. Even if they all got aboard, it was fair to assume that they would be in no condition to fight should the Englishmen choose to violate the neutrality of the port by firing on them. Porter immediately fired a gun and hoisted the recall signal for all boats and men to return. The English captain, Hillyar, ran the “Phœbe” on the wind straight for the “Essex,” the “Cherub” following closely. But when they reached the anchorage, the “Essex” was ready for action and the crew were at their stations. The “Phœbe” went around under the quarter of the “Essex,” luffing up scarcely fifteen feet away. It was an exciting moment. Hillyar could see the men at their guns, and his ardor was perceptibly diminished. Had he given the order to fire then, he would have been raked fore and aft, and the tale of this last fight of the “Essex” might have had a different ending.

As it was, he jumped upon the nettings, and said, with distinguished politeness, —

“Captain Hillyar’s compliments to Captain Porter, and hopes he is well.”

Porter was well, but he was in no humor to bandy compliments.

“Very well, I thank you,” he replied; “but I hope you will not come too near, for fear some accident might take place which would be disagreeable to you.” And at a wave of his hand the kedge-anchors and grappling-irons were swung up to the yard-arms, ready to be dropped on the decks of the enemy. The men swarmed along the nettings, ready to jump aboard the Englishman as soon as she was close enough.

But Hillyar, not liking the looks of things, changed his tone considerably. He backed his yards hurriedly, and said in an excited manner, —

“I had no intention of getting aboard of you. I assure you that if I fall aboard it will be entirely accidental.”

“Well,” said Porter, “you have no business where you are. If you touch a rope-yarn of this ship I shall board instantly.”

Porter then hailed Downes on the “Essex Junior” and told him to be prepared to repel the enemy. The vessels were in a position to be almost at the mercy of the Americans. When the “Phœbe” ranged alongside, the crews could see each other through the ports, and laughed and made grimaces at one another. One young fellow in the “Essex,” who had come aboard drunk, stood at one of the guns, match in hand. He saw one of the English jackies grinning at him. He was primed for a fight, and yelled across, —

“I’ll stop your making faces, my fine fellow.” He leaned forward to apply the match to the vent, and was only saved from firing it in time by Lieutenant McKnight of the gun-division, who knocked him sprawling. Had that gun been fired, the “Phœbe” would have been taken.

There seems no doubt of Captain Hillyar’s previous intention to try to take the “Essex” as she lay, regardless of the neutrality. Captain Porter would have been justified if he had fired at that time.

But the Englishmen were willing to bide their time. Two more British ships were expected, and they felt sure of their prey.

A strange state of affairs now ensued. The officers meeting on shore exchanged the proper courtesies, and strict orders were issued to the men, who for a wonder were restrained from fighting. Porter flew from his foremast a great white burgee, bearing the legend, “Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights.” Captain Hillyar soon hoisted one in reply, “God and Country: British Sailors’ Best Rights. Traitors Offend Both.” Porter then had another painted, and sent it to the mizzen, which read, “God, Our Country, and Liberty. Tyrants Offend Them.”

These amenities had the effect of making the crew eager for a speedy settlement of the question. Once Captain Hillyar fired a gun in challenge; but upon Porter’s accepting it, the Englishman sailed down to his consort the “Cherub,” and Porter returned. The Englishman, in spite of his challenge, was not willing to fight a single battle.

Finally, Captain Porter, learning of the expected early arrival of the “Tagus,” 38, the “Raccoon,” and two other ships, determined to put to sea and there fight it out with the two frigates as best he might. The next day, the 28th of March, 1814, a squall came up, and the “Essex” lost one of her anchors and dragged the other out to sea. Not a moment was to be lost in getting sail on the ship, for he saw a chance to sail between the southwest point of the harbor and the enemy. Under close-reefed topsails Porter made a course which seemed likely to carry him just where he wanted to go, when a heavy squall struck the ship, carrying away the maintop-mast and throwing the men who were aloft on the top-gallant-yard into the sea.

This great misfortune at a time when there was at least a fighting chance of getting away put a different aspect upon the chances of the “Essex.” Both English vessels immediately gave chase, and Porter, failing to make his anchorage, ran for shore, to anchor there and fight it out to the last drop of blood. The “Phœbe” and the “Cherub,” bedecked with flags, came booming down to where Porter awaited them, flying flags from the stumps of his maintop-mast and at almost every point where he could run a halyard.

At about four o’clock the “Phœbe” selected a position under the stern of the “Essex,” and opened fire at long range. The “Cherub” stood off her bow. The fire of the “Phœbe” was terribly destructive, and few guns from the “Essex” could be brought to bear upon her. The “Cherub” fared differently; and, finding her position too hot, sailed around and took up a position by her consort, where a tremendous fire was poured in. Captain Porter, with great difficulty, had three of his long 12-pounders hauled into his after-cabin, and at last succeeded in opening such a fierce and well-aimed fire that the enemy wore about and increased the distance between them. The “Phœbe” had three holes in her water-line, had lost the use of her mainsail and jib, and had her fore-main- and mizzen-stays shot away. Her bowsprit was badly wounded, and she had other injuries below.

But the “Essex” was fighting against terrible odds. The springs on her cables were again and again shot away and the crew were being killed and wounded in great numbers. When the ships of the enemy returned and opened a galling fire from such a position that it could not be returned by the “Essex,” Porter determined to assume the aggressive. But when he attempted to make sail on his ship, he found that most of the running-gear had been cut away, only his flying-jib could be spread to the winds. But, nothing daunted, he cut his cable, and, spreading his tattered canvases the best way he could, made down for the “Cherub” until within range of the cannonades, where he gave the Englishman such a drubbing that he took to his heels and got out of range altogether. The “Phœbe” managed to keep her distance, and with her long guns kept sending in broadside after broadside, which swept the decks of the doomed “Essex” and mowed her men down like chaff. Captain Hillyar was taking no chances.

The slaughter on the “Essex” was horrible. One gun was manned by three crews, fifteen men being killed at it. Men were dying like sheep; but those who remained at the guns, and even the wounded, had no thought of surrender. A sailor named Bissley, a young Scotchman by birth, lost his leg. He lifted himself, and said to some of his shipmates, —

“I hope I have proved myself worthy of the country of my adoption. I am no longer of any use to you or her; so good-by.” And before he could be restrained he pushed himself through the port into the sea and was drowned.

Midshipman Farragut acted as captain’s aid, quarter-gunner, powder-boy, and anything that was required of him. He went below for some primers, when the captain of a gun was struck full in the face by a sixteen-pound shot, falling back upon the midshipman, spattering him with blood and tumbling them both down the hatch together. The blow stunned the midshipman for a moment; but when he recovered, he rushed again on deck. Captain Porter, seeing him covered with blood, asked him if he were wounded.

“I believe not, sir.”

“Then, where are the primers?”

This first brought him completely to his senses. He rushed below again and brought the primers up. Captain Porter fell, stunned by the windage of a shot, but got to his feet unaided.

Though most other men would have surrendered the ship, Porter made up his mind to run her towards the shore and beach her broadside on, fight until the last and then blow her to pieces. An explosion occurred below and a fire broke out in two places. The decks were so covered with dead and dying that the men who remained upright could scarcely move among them. The cockpit would hold not another wounded man, and the shots which came in killed men who were under the surgeon’s knife. Out of the two hundred and fifty-five souls who began the fight only seventy-five, including officers and boys, remained on the ship fit for duty. Many of the men, thinking the ship was about to blow up, had jumped overboard and had drowned or were struggling in the water in the attempt to swim to land. The long-range shots of the enemy were striking her at every fire. The Englishmen had the distance accurately and were battering her to pieces as though at target-practice.

Captain Porter, at last seeing that resistance was only a waste of life, called his officers into consultation. But one, Lieutenant McKnight, could respond, and at 6.20 P.M. the order was given to haul down the flag.

When the British boarding-officer came over the side, the sight of the carnage was so shocking that he had to lean against a gun for support. The force of the “Essex” was forty-six guns and two hundred and fifty-five men. That of the English, in conservative estimates, was seventy-three guns and four hundred and twenty-one men. The English lost five killed and ten wounded. The “Essex” fifty-eight killed, sixty-six wounded, and thirty-one missing.

Thus died the “Essex” in one of the bloodiest and most obstinate combats on record.

THE CAPTAIN OF THE MAINTOP

James Jarvis was one of the “young gentlemen” on the “Constellation” during the war with France. “Young gentlemen” was what the midshipmen were called in the old naval service, and Jarvis was the youngest of them all, being just thirteen at the time of the action with the “Vengeance.” He was the smallest officer aboard, and his most important duties were those of passing the word from the quarter-deck forward, and taking his station aloft in the maintop, where he was learning the mysteries of the maze of gear which went through the lubber’s-hole or belayed in the top. He also stood at quarters with his diminutive sword drawn, – a smaller edition of the lieutenants, who were allowed to wear one epaulette and who could make a louder noise through the speaking-trumpet than Jarvis could hope to for years. Down in the midshipmen’s mess, by virtue of his diminutive stature and tender years, he was not much interfered with by Wederstrandt, Henry, Vandyke, and the bigger men. But he fought one or two of the young gentlemen nearer his age, and, though frequently defeated, stood up as strongly as possible for what he deemed his rights. He was a manly little reefer, and up in the maintop, where he was stationed in time of action, the men swore by him. He was sensible enough not to give any orders without the professional opinion of one of the old jackies, who always ventured it with a touch of the cap, a respectful “Sir,” and perhaps a half-concealed smile, which was more of interest than amusement. Thirteen was rather a tender age at which to command men of fifty, but the midshipmen of those days were not ordinary boys. They went out from their comfortable homes aboard ships where men were even rougher and less well-disciplined than they are to-day, and they had either to sink or swim. It was Spartan treatment; but a year of it made men and sailors of them or else sent them posting home to their mothers and sisters.

Jarvis loved it, and did his duty like a man. He knew the lead of all the gear on his mast, and kept his few pieces of brass-work aloft shining like new. He kept the rigging in his top, even when there was no occasion for it, coiled down as though for inspection, although nobody but the topmen and yardmen ever had occasion to examine it. He was as active as a monkey, and, scorning the “lubber’s-hole,” went over the futtock-shrouds as smartly as any of the light-yardmen.

The greatest and probably the only regret of midshipman Jarvis’s short life was that he had not joined the great frigate before she met and defeated the “Insurgente” the year before. He wanted to be in a great action. Nothing seemed to make him feel more of a man than when the long 18-pounders were fired in broadside at target-practice. If he had been but a boy, instead of an officer with a gold-laced cap and a dirk and all the dignities pertaining to those habiliments, he would have clapped his hands and shouted for sheer joy. But the eyes of his men were upon him, and so he stood watching the flight of the shots, and biting hard on his lips he kept his composure.

Captain Truxton, ever mindful of his midshipmen, had disposed them in different parts of the ship with regard to their size and usefulness. The older ones had been given gun-divisions, while the youngsters were placed on the fo’c’s’le or in the tops, where they might be of assistance, but would more certainly be out of harm’s way. Such a thought was not suggested on the “Constellation.” If it had been, little Jarvis would probably have resigned immediately, or at the very least have burst into unmanly tears. As it was, he felt that his post aloft was as important as any on the ship, and he promised himself that if another Frenchman was sighted he would stay there whether the mast were up or down.

So, on the 1st of February, 1800, just about a year after the capture of the “Insurgente,” while they were bowling along under easy sail, about fifteen miles off Basse Terre, a large sail, which appeared to be a French frigate, was sighted to the southward. Jarvis went aloft two ratlines at a time, his heart bounding with joy at the prospect of the chance of a fight.

On assuring himself that she was a large ship, Captain Truxton immediately set all sail and took a course which soon brought her hull above the horizon and showed the Americans beyond a doubt that she was a ship-of-war of heavier metal than the “Constellation.” Nothing daunted, Truxton bore on his course until the gun-streaks of the other vessel could be plainly seen. Instead of showing the same desire to speak, the stranger held on, pointing a little off his course, as though anxious to avoid an encounter.

But the breeze, which had been light, now died away altogether, and the sea became calm. There the two great vessels drifted in sight of each other all night and part of the following day, awaiting the wind which would enable them to close. Jarvis was in a fever of impatience. A half a dozen times he got permission from the officer of the deck, and with a telescope almost as long as himself, clambered up to the main-royal to report. There was but one opinion among the midshipmen who went aloft, – she was a Frenchman. She could not be anything else.

About two o’clock in the afternoon of the next day, up to the northward they saw the ripple on the water of the wind they had been waiting for. The sail-loosers flew aloft, and every sail was spread to catch it. Soon the “Constellation” was pushing her way through the water, and the foam was even flying from the wave-tops here and there. The chase had caught the breeze at about the same time, and the Americans could see by the line of white under her bow that she was beginning to leg it at a handsome rate. But the “Constellation” was in excellent condition for a race, and by degrees drew up on the other ship, which as they reached her was seen to lie very low in the water, as though deep-laden. They were sure to discover who she was before nightfall, so Truxton cleared his ship for action. Jarvis went aloft to his top and saw the backstays lashed and the preventer-braces securely hooked and rove. Extra muskets were carried up into his top for the use of the jackies and marines when they should come into close quarters, for then the fire of sharpshooters would be almost as valuable as the shots of the great guns.

Their work had been over an hour and the sun had set in a clear sky before the “Constellation” drew up to gunshot distance. It was moonlight before she came within effective range. The battle-lanterns were lit, and the long row of lights on the Frenchman showed that he, too, was prepared for fight. The sky was clear, and the moon, which was nearly at the full, made the outlines of the vessels perfectly visible to the men at the guns. Jarvis, from his post aloft, could plainly see the lines of heads along the poop, and fancied that he could make out a midshipman almost as young as he, who was clambering about the maintop of the other vessel. He heard the beating of a drum and the sound of cheers as the Frenchmen moved to their quarters.