With Porter in the Essex

The Phœbe was so far away that we had hardly a gun which could touch her, while because of her station and long pieces, she sent nearly every shot aboard us.

Then came a lull in the fighting, and I heard the word passed from one to the other that we were to get three long twelves out aft, and side by side with Phil I aided to the best of my ability in the work.

The Britishers poured in a heavy fire while we were thus engaged, and here, there, and everywhere on our decks were dead or wounded men before we got the new pieces in position.

Then our most skilful gunners were sent to the long twelves, and we lads brought ammunition till we were ready to drop from mingled excitement and fatigue, yet were hardly conscious of our condition, for now were our guns beginning to tell, and we could see that the Britishers were suffering as they had made us suffer.

Then, suddenly, a deafening cheer went up from our men, and running to one of the ports I squeezed my body out past the gun till I could see the Phœbe and Cherub hauling off like crippled ducks.

I believed the battle was at an end, and began to cheer like a crazy lad, when Master Hackett caught me by the shoulder with a jerk that brought me up all standing.

"I reckon the fumes of powder an' blood have gone to your head, lad. Quiet down a bit, or you'll need to be sent into the cockpit."

"We've whipped the Britishers!" I shouted, trying vainly to squirm out of the old sailor's grasp. "They thought to cut us up because we were well-nigh helpless, and it's themselves who've got the worst of it."

"Hold your jaw, you young monkey! This is no time for such crowin' as you're doin'. We've beat 'em off for a time, an' it's allowable we kick up a bit of a shindy over it; but the battle isn't ended by a long shot."

"Not ended?" I cried, coming to my senses in a measure. "Then why have the Britishers crawled away?"

"They've only hauled off for repairs, an' it stands you in hand to help make ready for what's yet to come. Stow your jaw, an' bear a hand with the rest of us!"

I was to "bear a hand" in moving the dead to one side where they would not hamper our movements, and aid in carrying the wounded below, as I soon saw, and straightway it was as if all strength had departed.

Now that the heat and excitement of the action was past for the time being, my stomach revolted at the horrible sights everywhere around, and, leaning out one of the ports, I yielded to the sickness which beset me even as it had when first we put to sea.

That I could have gloried in the terrible carnage; that I had passed the dead bodies of those who that morning had greeted me with a friendly word, and not felt my heart quiver, seemed incredible, and I shed bitter tears because of my hard-heartedness.

It was cruel as it was wicked, and I must have been possessed by a demon to have found a savage pleasure in such sickening work!

Almost without being aware of the fact I listened to a conversation among the men as to the injury we had received.

Eleven men had been killed outright, twenty-one were wounded, and two died after being carried into the cockpit. Our topsail sheets, topsail halliards, jib and foretopmast staysail halliards had been cut away, and almost the only canvas that could have been spread was the flying jib. How many shot had hulled us it was impossible to say; but, looking over the rail, one could see the big splinters sticking up here and there until it seemed that we must have been wounded in every square yard of hull on the stern and starboard side from the water line upward.

It seemed impossible that we could continue the action another moment, and yet our men were cheerily making preparations to renew the fight.

I believe it was the knowledge that we would soon be under fire again which aided me in so far pulling myself together that I could obey orders; and even when I was in the thick of the terrible work the sight of a pool of blood would cause an upheaval of my stomach, although when the wounds were received and I might have said a soothing word to the dying, all this carnage was as nothing.

It is beyond my poor skill with a pen to set down the second portion of this wicked fight into which we had been so cowardly forced, and also because I know very little of it from my own knowledge. When the Britishers came down upon us again the fever of battle took hold of me once more, and I was little less than crazy.

Here is the remainder of the story, at which Britishers should blush, as told by one who quietly pieced together the accounts given him by the survivors: —

"The enemy was not long in making his repairs, and both ships next took a position on the starboard quarter of the Essex, where it was not in the power of the latter vessel to bring a single gun to bear upon him, as he was too distant to be reached by carronades. His fire was very galling, and it left no alternative to Captain Porter between submission and running down to assail him. He gallantly decided on the latter. But by this time the Essex had received many serious injuries in addition to the loss of her topmast. The only sail that could be got upon the ship to make her head pay off was the flying jib, which was hoisted when the cable was cut, and the vessel edged away with the intention of laying the Phœbe aboard.

"The foretopsail and the foresail were not let fall, though for want of tacks and sheets they were nearly useless. Still the Essex drove down on her assailants, closing near enough to open with her carronades. For a few minutes the firing on both sides was tremendous, the people of the Essex proving their discipline and gallantry at that trying moment in a way to justify all the high expectations that had been formed of them, though their decks were already strewn with killed, and the cockpit was crowded with the wounded. This work proved too hot for the Cherub, which hauled off a second time, nor did she come near enough to use her carronades again, during the remainder of the action keeping up a distant fire with her long guns.

"The Phœbe discovered no disposition to throw away the immense advantage she possessed in her long eighteens; and when she found the Essex's fire becoming warm she kept edging off, throwing her shot at the same time with fatal effect, cutting down the people of her antagonist almost with impunity to herself. By this time many of the guns of the American ship were disabled, and the crews of several had been swept away. One particular gun was a scene of carnage that is seldom witnessed in a naval combat, nearly three entire crews falling at it in the course of the action. Its captain alone escaped with a slight wound.

"This scene of almost unresisting carnage had now lasted nearly two hours, and finding it impossible to close with his adversary, who chose his distance at pleasure, Captain Porter felt the necessity of taking some prompt measure if he would prevent the enemy from getting possession of his ship. The wind had hauled to the westward, and he saw a hope of running her ashore at a spot where he might land his people and set her on fire. For a few minutes everything appeared to favor this design, and the Essex had drifted within musket-shot of the beach when the wind suddenly shifted from the land, paying the ship's head off in a way to leave her exposed to a dreadful raking fire. Still, as she was again closing with the Phœbe, Captain Porter indulged a hope of finally laying that ship aboard.

"At this moment Lieutenant Commandant Downes came alongside the Essex in order to receive the orders of his commanding officer, having pulled through all the fire in order to effect this object. He could be of no use, for the enemy again put his helm up and kept away, when Mr. Downes, after remaining in the Essex ten minutes, was directed to return to his own ship and make preparations to defend, or, at need, to destroy her. On going away he carried off several of the Essex's wounded, leaving three of his own men behind him in order to make room in the boat.

"The slaughter in the Essex having got to be too horrible, the enemy firing with deliberation and hulling her at almost every shot, Captain Porter, as a last resort, ordered a hawser to be bent to the sheet anchor, and the latter let go in order to bring the head of the ship around. This effected the object, and once more the Americans got their broadside to bear, remaining stationary themselves, while their enemy, a good deal crippled, was drifting slowly to leeward. Even in these desperate circumstances a ray of hope gleamed through this little advantage, and Captain Porter was beginning to believe that the Phœbe would drift out of gun-shot before she discovered his expedient, when the hawser parted with the strain.

"There was no longer any chance of saving the ship. To add to his distress she was on fire, the flames coming up both the main and forward hatchways; and for a few moments it was thought she would thus be destroyed. An explosion of powder also occurred below, to add to the horrors of the scene, and Captain Porter told his people that, in preference to being blown up, all who chose to incur the risk might attempt to reach the shore by swimming. Many availed themselves of this permission, and some succeeded in effecting their escape. Others perished, while a few, after drifting about on bits of spars, were picked up by the boats of the enemy. Much the greater part of the crew, however, remained in the ship, and they set about an attempt to extinguish the flames, although the shot of the enemy was committing its havoc the whole time. Fortunately, the fire was got under, when the few brave men who were left went again to the long guns.

"The moment had now arrived when Captain Porter was to decide between submission or the destruction of the remainder of his people. In the midst of this scene of slaughter he had himself been untouched, and it would seem that he felt himself called upon to resist as long as his own strength allowed. But his remaining people entreated him to remember his wounded, and he at last consented to summon his officers. Only one, Lieutenant McKnight, could join him on the quarter-deck! The first lieutenant, Mr. Wilmer, had been knocked overboard by a splinter and drowned, while getting the sheet anchor from the bows; Lieutenant Cowell, the next in rank, was mortally wounded; Lieutenant Odenheimer had just been knocked overboard from the quarter, and did not regain the vessel for several moments. The reports of the state of the ship were fearful. A large portion of the guns were disabled, even had there been men left to fight them. The berth-deck, steerage, wardroom, and cockpit were full of wounded, and the latter were even killed by shot while under the surgeon's hands. The carpenter was sent for, and he stated that of his crew, he alone could perform any duty. He had been over the side to stop shot-holes, when his slings were cut away and he narrowly escaped drowning. In short, seventy-five men, officers included, were all that remained for duty, and the enemy, in perfectly smooth water, was firing his long eighteens at a nearly unresisting ship, with as much precision as he could have discharged them at a target. It became an imperative duty to strike, and the colors were accordingly hauled down after one of the most remarkable combats to be found in the history of naval warfare.

"In this bloody contest the Essex had fifty-eight men killed, including those who soon died of their hurts, and sixty-six wounded, making a total of one hundred and twenty-four, or nearly half of all who were on board at the commencement of the action. Of the missing there were thirty-one, most of whom were probably drowned, either in attempting to swim ashore when the ship was on fire, or by being knocked overboard by splinters or pieces of rigging. Including the missing, the entire loss was one hundred and fifty-two out of two hundred and fifty-five.

"The Essex, with a very trifling exception while closing, fought this battle with her six long twelves, opposed by fifteen long eighteens in broadside, the long guns of the Cherub, and, a good deal of the time, while they lay on her quarter, by the carronades of both the enemy's ships. Captain Hillyar's published official letter makes the loss of the Phœbe four killed and seven wounded; that of the Cherub one killed and three wounded. Captain Tucker of the Cherub was wounded, and the first lieutenant of the Phœbe was killed.

"The English ships were cut up more than could have been expected under the circumstances, the latter having received no less than eighteen 12-pound shots below the water line. It would seem that the smoothness of the water rendered the fire very certain on both sides, and it is only to be regretted that the Essex could not have engaged under her three topsails from the commencement.

"The engagement lasted nearly two hours and a half, the long guns of the Essex, it is said, having been fired no less than seventy-five times, each, in broadside. The enemy must have thrown, agreeably to the statements made at the time, not less than seven hundred 18-pound shot at the Essex."

CHAPTER XV

ON PAROLE

During the greater portion of that terrible time which has been so vividly described by one who afterward became familiar with all the horrible details, I had but little idea of what was going on, save among us on the gun-deck.

We had nothing to do with the poor efforts at handling the sorely wounded ship, and could only load and fire so long as a gun's crew remained alive.

When one fell dead or wounded at his task another was called to fill his place, and speedily the deck was so littered with the lifeless or the dying that some of us would be summoned to aid the surgeon's force in dragging them out of the way.

As during the first portion of the engagement, I was burning with the fever of battle, and had so little knowledge of what was being done that I could not have said whether one hour or ten had elapsed since the action was begun. It seemed to me as if we had been half an ordinary lifetime at this business, and I had stood so long beneath the shadow of the death angel's wings that I took it for granted I should be numbered with the slain when the conflict ceased, but gave no heed to such possibility.

Phil and I knew vaguely, because of the dreadful slaughter which followed, when the frigate's bow payed off while Captain Porter was trying to beach her, and we came to realize dimly – as though it was something which did not concern us personally – that we were being so badly cut to pieces as to make it certain our people must finally yield to the enemy; but above all was the one thought, a single desire, to do as much damage as possible to the Britishers before our ship went down.

Then, when we were in position where we could fire a broadside, we began to cheer once more, believing that after all our disadvantages we might compel the foe to retire; but our hearts did not sink, perhaps because we were too much excited to realize it, when the hawser of the sheet anchor parted, leaving us once again where we could be raked.

When the ship was on fire we ran to the spar-deck, yet fighting the flames, and neither Phil nor I knew until afterward that permission had been given the men to leap overboard and save themselves.

We would not have deserted the ship, however, because both of us were following Master Hackett very closely; it seemed much as though he had become a part of us, and we could do nothing save by his side or under his direction.

Why we three, when all those brave hearts were sent into eternity on that 28th day of March, should have escaped a wound I am unable to say; it must have been, as my mother said, that God was not yet ready to receive us into that portion of his kingdom that had been allotted us.

The old man took us lads by the hand when finally Captain Porter gave orders that the colors be hauled down in token of surrender, and there we stood as if unable to move or speak, when the Britishers came on board.

The living were allowed to bury the dead; the wounded were taken on shore, and then we were, with many others, sent on board the Cherub, where we were by no means badly treated. More than one Britisher on board that ship was ashamed, as I myself heard them say, at our having been attacked while disabled, and nearly all did whatsoever they might to ease the burden of grief and disappointment.

There is no good reason why I should set down here what we did or said during such time as we remained in the harbor of Valparaiso, for it would be sad reading. It can well be supposed that we mourned for our brave fellows who had been killed, and our hearts went out in sympathy to those wounded ashore; but as for ourselves, we could do nothing save exist.

Then came the day when it was made known that Captain Hillyar had decided it would be quite out of the question to hamper himself with so many prisoners, and the Essex Junior was to be converted into a cartel5 to take us home after we had given our paroles.

It seemed most wonderful that after passing through so many dangers we were really to see our native country once more. I wept tears of joy when the news came to me, and was not ashamed of so doing. During the fight, and for many a long day afterward, I thought of myself as so nearly in the clutches of death that I was already done with the things of this world.

When the arrangements had finally been made, however, we learned that my cousin, Lieutenant McKnight, Mr. Adams, the chaplain, Mr. Lyman, a master's mate, and eleven of our sailors had already been exchanged for some prisoners taken from the Sir Andrew Hammond, and were then on board the Essex Junior.

Later, after we had sailed for the United States, my cousin and Mr. Lyman went to Rio de Janeiro in the Phœbe in order to give some testimony in behalf of the captors. From that port they sailed in a Swedish brig bound to England, and since that moment it has been impossible to learn aught concerning their fate. The captain of the brig declares that his passengers were sent on board the British sloop-of-war Wasp, at their own request. The Wasp was never heard from after she parted company with the brig; but it is my opinion, and shared by many, that Lieutenant McKnight and his companion were foully murdered by the Swede.

We left the port of Valparaiso with our papers in good order, and all on board rejoicing at the prospect of seeing their loved ones once more. At that time I believed nothing could tempt me to leave my mother again; but "once a sailor always a sailor" is the proverb, and I am inclined to think it has in it much truth.

The voyage was a prosperous one; we doubled Cape Horn without difficulty or incident, and had we but been in the good ship Essex, returning home after a successful cruise, the days would not have been long enough for all our happiness. As it was, however, we lived over and over again the past, discussing the battle which had cost us so dearly and left the poor old frigate a wreck in the harbor of Valparaiso, and speaking tenderly with many a choking sob of the shipmates who stood gallantly to their posts of duty until death struck them down.

Now we were returning on parole, the survivors of a ship's company which had struck their colors to the enemy, and it weighed us down, even though we knew full well that the cruise of the Essex had been of greatest value to our country.

We talked of the old ship as if she had once been a living thing, and regretted most deeply that we had not succeeded in beaching her, or that we had extinguished the flames when her hold was apparently a mass of fire.

In fact, we went over all the details of our voyage which was ending so sadly, never tiring during all the long weeks, and many times did we conjure up pictures of our shipmates who had been left behind on Nukuheva, wondering what they would do after months had passed and we failed to return, or speculating upon the possibility that they would attempt the homeward cruise in one of the prizes.

Poor fellows! While we spoke of them as living happily and amid plenty, they were battling for life, as I may one day set down in detail, if it so be that this feeble apology for a landsman's yarn finds favor with those who may read it.

The voyage on the cartel was a prosperous one, as I have already said, and in due time we were off the port of New York, believing that within a few hours, at the longest, we would be at liberty to go wheresoever it pleased us. The Essex Junior was no more than thirty miles from land when we sighted a Britisher who speedily gave us to understand that we must heave to and show our papers.

The stranger proved to be the Saturn, a razee (meaning a ship-of-war cut down to a smaller size by reducing the number of decks), commanded by Captain Nash.

We had not supposed there might be any question of our detention, for we had a passport in due form from Captain Hillyar; but this Britisher took it into his head that there must be something wrong with our craft; he even questioned the right of Captain Hillyar to parole us, and ended by giving the order that we lay by him during the night.

Immediately visions of a British prison danced before our eyes. We had been forced into a fight when our ship was little better than a wreck, by one Englishman, and now here was another who proposed to take in charge a lot of paroled men who were free to sail to their port of destination according to the usages of war among all nations.

After a time of jawing and tongue wagging among our sailors, we came to believe that Captain Porter was the one whom the Britisher particularly desired to hold; for surely he could have no wish to hamper himself with a lot of seamen whom he must, beyond a peradventure, set at liberty when his government learned the facts in the case.

What they would do with our captain no one seemed to so much as guess; we had decided among ourselves that some indignity would be put upon him, and when the word was passed from one to another that Captain Porter was inclined to make his escape in one of the small boats, every man jack volunteered to pull him ashore.

To row a ship's boat thirty miles, with the chances of being lost in the fog which was even then creeping over the waters, seemed like a desperate undertaking; but when Master Hackett, who had been selected by the crew as their spokesman, went aft and made known to Captain Porter what they desired to do, he accepted the offer without hesitation.

One of our boats was launched to leeward, where she might not be seen by those on the razee, and our commander, with little Midshipman Farragut by his side, lowered himself into the stern-sheets after the crew were at their stations.

Six hardy seamen gave way at the oars, and Phil and I waved our hats in parting at Master Hackett, whom we did not see again until many a long day had passed.

The Britisher caught a glimpse of the small boat as she pulled out past our ship, and he pitched a shot after her as a signal to heave to; but the old shellbacks who sat at the oars were not the kind to be frightened by the burning of British powder. They had sniffed the odor many times before, and if they would voluntarily remain on a burning ship while the enemy was plugging ball after ball into her as if she had been no more than a target, they could be depended upon to hold their course regardless of Captain Nash and the razee Saturn.

Before the Britishers could fire at them again they were lost to view in the fog, and, as we learned two days afterward, landed in safety on Long Island.

Next morning Captain Nash, after examining our papers once more, gave us permission to continue the voyage, and before nightfall we were lying in the harbor of New York, rejoicing at having escaped death or a British prison.

Yes, we were made much of, once it was known in the city who we were, but of that there is no reason why I should speak at any length.

I should add, however, that after sailing and rowing sixty miles or more, the boat in which was our commander arrived at Babylon, on the south side of Long Island, and even then her occupants were not free from trouble. Captain Porter was suspected by the citizens of being a British officer, and but for the fact that he had his commission from Congress in his pocket, he might have been detained.