Chapter 28

"1812"

The fight between Napoleon's land-blockade and Britain's sea-blockade divided not only the people of Europe into friends and foes but also divided the people of the United States into opposing parties, one in favour of Napoleon, the other in favour of the British. The party favouring Napoleon wanted war against the British. The other party wanted peace.

The War Party hated the British, coveted Canada, and wished to break the British blockade. The Peace Party said that Napoleon was a tyrant, while the British were on the side of freedom, and that Napoleon was rougher with American ships which broke the land-blockade than the British were with those which broke the sea-blockade. The War Party answered that, for one ship Napoleon could catch, the British caught twenty. This was true. But it showed that the War Party would rather make money on Napoleon's side than lose it on the side of freedom.

The War Party's last argument was that British deserters should be safe under the American flag when on the high seas. The high seas meant the sea far enough from any country to be a "no-man's-land," where, as all the other peoples of the world agreed, any navy could enforce the laws of war against any one who broke them. The War Party, however, said "no," and went on tempting British seamen to desert, by offering "dollars for shillings," a thing they could well afford, because they were making a great deal of money out of the war, while the British were forced to spend theirs in fighting the tyrant Napoleon.

The War Party won the vote in Congress; and war was declared in 1812, just when Napoleon was marching to stamp out resistance in Russia.

This war sprang a double surprise on the British. First, the Americans failed badly on land against Canada, though they outnumbered the Canadians fifteen to one, and though the Imperial garrison of Canada was only four thousand strong. Secondly, the little American Navy gave the big British Navy a great deal of trouble by daring cruises on the part of small but smart squadrons against the British trade routes, and, as there were no squadron battles, by what counted for very much more than squadron cruises in the eyes of the world, five ship duels won without a break. Ship for ship of the same class the Americans had the larger and smarter vessels of the two, and often the better crews. Twenty years of war had worn out the reserves of British seamen. "Dollars for shillings" had tempted many of the British who survived to desert the hard work against Napoleon for the easier, safer, and better paid work under the Stars and Stripes; while the mere want of any enemy to fight for the command of the sea after Trafalgar had tended to make the British get slack.

But, even after making all allowances in favour of the British and against the Americans, there is no denying that the Yankee ships fought exceedingly well. Their skilful manoeuvres and shattering broadsides deserved to win; and the U.S. SS. _Constitution_, _Hornet_, _Wasp_, and _United States_ richly deserve their place of honour in the story of the sea. The turn of the tide came on the 1st of June, 1813, when the U.S.S. _Chesapeake_ sailed out of Boston to fight H.M.S. _Shannon_. These two frigates were about equal in size and armament. The _Chesapeake_ carried fifty more men; but her captain, the very gallant Lawrence, was new to her, like his officers and men, and the crew as a whole were not nearly such veterans as the _Shannon's_, whom Broke had trained to perfection for seven years. The duel lasted only fifteen minutes. Every single British shot struck home; and when Broke led his boarders on to the _Chesapeake's_ deck the fight had been won already.

The British government, never wanting this war, and doing all they could to avoid it without endangering the side of freedom against Napoleon, had not even now put forth their real naval strength. But in 1814 they blockaded all the ports in the United States that the War Party could shut against them; whereupon, so far as these ports were concerned, American sea trade simply fell dead. They also burnt the American Government buildings at Washington as a reprisal for the Canadian Government buildings the Americans had burnt at Newark and Toronto.

Those two splendid Americans, Commodores Perry and Macdonough, than whom the British never met a better or more generous foe, won the command of Lakes Erie and Champlain, thus partly offsetting British victories elsewhere. The American peace delegates were, however, still more favoured by the state of Europe at the end of 1814, when they were arranging the Treaty of Ghent with the British; for, while they had no outside trouble to prevent them from driving a hard bargain, the British had half the other troubles of the world on their shoulders as well.

The end of it all was that things were left as before. The Treaty said nothing about the claims and causes for which the United States had made the war.

HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA

Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest North-east distance dawn'd Gibraltar grand and gray; "Here and here did England help me: how can I help England?"--say, Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa. --_Robert Browning_.

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. --_Shakespeare._ _King John, Act V, Scene VII._

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe; And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirit of your fathers Shall start from every wave; For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow! While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow! When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. --_Thomas Campbell._

SEA-FEVER

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. --_John Masefield._

O, FALMOUTH IS A FINE TOWN

O, Falmouth is a fine town with ships in the bay, And I wish from my heart it's there I was to-day; I wish from my heart I was far away from here, Sitting in my parlour and talking to my dear.

For it's home, dearie, home--it's home I want to be, Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea; O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree, They're all growing green in the old countrie.

In Baltimore a-walking with a lady I did meet With her babe on her arm, as she came down the street; And I thought how I sailed, and the cradle standing ready For the pretty little babe that has never seen its daddy.

And it's home, dearie, home, &c.

O, if it be a lass, she shall wear a golden ring; And if it be a lad, he shall fight for his king: With his dirk and his hat and his little jacket blue He shall walk the quarter-deck as his daddie used to do.

And it's home, dearie, home, &c.

O, there's a wind a-blowing, a-blowing from the west, And that of all the winds is the one I like the best, For it blows at our backs, and it shakes our pennon free, And it soon will blow us home to the old countrie.

For it's home, dearie, home--it's home I want to be, Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea; O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree, They're all growing green in the old countrie. --_Old Song._

"FAREWELL AND ADIEU"

This famous song was sung in the Navy all through the Sailing Age; and it is not yet forgotten after a century of Steam and Steel. Gibraltar, Cadiz, and many other places on the coast of Spain, were great ports of call for the Navy as well as great ports of trade for the Mercantile Marine. So, what with music, dance, and song in these homes of the South, there was no end to the flirtations between the Spanish ladies and the British tars in the piping times of peace.

Farewell, and adieu to you, gay Spanish ladies, Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain! For we've received orders for to sail for old England, But we hope in a short time to see you again.

We'll rant and we'll roar like true British heroes, We'll rant and we'll roar across the salt seas, Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England; From Ushant to Scilly is thirty-five leagues.

Then we hove our ship to, with the wind at sou'-west, boys, We hove our ship to, for to strike soundings clear; We got soundings in ninety-five fathom, and boldly Up the channel of old England our course we did steer.

The first we made it was calléd the Deadman, Next, Ramshead off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight; We passed by Beechy, by Fairleigh, and Dungeness, And hove our ship to, off the South Foreland light.

Then a signal was made for the grand fleet to anchor, All in the downs, that night for to sleep; Then stand by your stoppers, let go your shank-painters, Haul all your clew-garnets, stick out tacks and sheets. --_Old Song._