CHAPTER IX.

THE AMERICAN LINE-OF-BATTLE SHIP.

THE line-of-battle ship, which figured so largely in the navies of a half century or more ago, was a man-of-war carrying seventy-four or more guns. It was the class of ships in which the British took especial pride, and the American colonists, imitating the mother country, began the construction of one, as early as the Revolution. Built at Portsmouth, this first American “ship-of-the-line” was, when finished, presented to France. Humpreys, our great naval contractor in 1797 carried out the true national idea, by condensing the line-of-battle ship into a frigate, and “line ships” proper were not built until after 1820. One of the first of these was the _North Carolina_, commanded by the veteran John Rodgers.

The first visit of an American line-of-battle ship to Europe, in 1825, under Commodore Rodgers, was, in its effect, like that of the iron-clad Monitor _Miantonomah_ under Farragut in 1865. It showed that the United States led the world in ships and guns. The _North Carolina_ was then the largest, the most efficient and most formidable vessel that ever crossed the Atlantic.

Rodgers was justly proud of his flag-ship and fleet, for this was the golden era of American ship-building, and no finer craft ever floated than those launched from our shipyards.

The old hulk of the _North Carolina_ now laid up at the Brooklyn Navy Yard and used as a magazine, receiving-ship, barracks, prison, and guard-house, gives little idea of the vision of life and beauty which the “seventy-four” of our fathers was.

The great ship, which then stirred the hearts of the nation moved under a mighty cloud of canvas, and mounted in three tiers one-hundred and two guns, which threw a mass of iron outweighing that fired by any vessel then afloat. Her battery exceeded by three hundred and four pounds that of the _Lord Nelson_—the heaviest British ship afloat and in commission. The weight of broadside shot thrown by the one larger craft before her—that of the Spanish Admiral St. Astraella Trinidad,[5] which Nelson sunk at Trafalgar,—fell short of that of the _North Carolina_. Our “wooden walls” were then high, and the stately vessel under her mass of snowy canvas was a sight that filled a true sailor with profound emotion. Mackenzie in his “Year in Spain” has fitly described his feelings as that sight burst upon him.

So perfect were the proportions, that her size was under-valued until men noticed carefully the great mass moving with the facility of a schooner. At the magic of the boatswain’s whistle, the anchor was cast and the great sails were folded up and hidden from view as a bird folding her wings.

It was highly beneficial to our commerce and American reputation abroad to send so magnificent a fleet into European waters as that commanded by Rodgers. In many ports of the Mediterranean Sea, the American flag, then bearing twenty-four stars, had never been seen. The right man and the right ships were now to represent us.

Perry joined the _North Carolina_ July 26, 1824. She sailed in April, and arrived at Malaga, May 19, 1825. During three days she was inspected by the authorities and crowds of people, who were deeply impressed by the perfect discipline observed on the finest ship ever seen in those waters.

Gibraltar on June 7th, and Tangier, June 14th, were then visited, and by the 17th, the whole squadron, among which was the _Cyane_, assembled in the offing before the historic fortress near the pillars of Hercules, prior to a visit to the Greek Archipelago.

This too, was an epoch of vast ceremony and display on board ship. War and discipline of to-day, if less romantic and chivalrous are more business-like, more effective, but less spectacular. Mackenzie with a pen equal to that of his friend, N. P. Willis, has left us a graphic sketch of the receptions and departures of the Commodore. As we read his fascinating pages:

“The herculean form and martial figure of the veteran,” who as monarch reigned over “the hallowed region of the quarterdeck,” the “band of music in Moorish garb,” the “groups of noble looking young officers,” come again before us.

A “thousand eyes are fixed” on “the master spirit,” hats are raised, soldiers present arms, the “side boys” detailed at gangways to attend dignitaries,—eight to an admiral, four to a captain,—are in their places, and the blare of brazen tubes is heard as the commodore disembarks.

Perry, as executive officer, held the position which a writer with experience has declared to be the most onerous, difficult, and thankless of all. His duties comprised pretty much everything that needed to be done on deck. Whether in gold lace or epaulettes by day, or in oil-skin jacket with trumpet at night or in storm, Perry was regent of the ship and crew. Charles W. Morgan, afterwards commodore, was captain.

The business of the squadron, consisting of the _North Carolina_, _Constitution_, _Erie_, _Ontario_, and _Cyane_ was to protect American commerce. The ships were to sail from end to end of the Mediterranean, touching at Algiers, Tunis and Tripoli, which “Barbary” powers were now very friendly to Americans. Other classic sites were to be visited, and although the young officers anticipated the voyage with delight, yet the cruise was not to be a mere summer picnic. American commerce was in danger at the Moslem end of the Mediterranean, for much the same political causes previously operating in the West Indies. The cause lay in the revolt of a tribute nation against its suzerain, or rather in the assertion of her liberty against despotism. That struggle for Hellenic Independence, which becomes to us far-away Americans more of an entity, through the poetry of Byron and Fitz-Greene Halleck, than through history, had begun. It seems, in history, a dream; in poetry, a fact. While the Greek patriots won a measure of success, they kept their hands off from other people’s property and regarded the relation of _mine_ and _thine_; but when hard pressed by the Turks, patriotism degenerated into communism. They were apt to forage among our richly-laden vessels. Greek defeat meant piracy, and at this time the cause of the patriots, though a noble one, was desperate indeed. Five years of fighting had passed, yet recognition by European nations was withheld. The first fruits of the necessity, which knows no law, was plunder.

On the 29th of May, an American merchantman from Boston was robbed by a Greek privateer, and this act became a precedent for similar outrages.

While at Patras, the chief commercial town of Greece, Perry had the scripture prophecy of “seven women taking hold of one man” fulfilled before his eyes. The Biblical number of Turkish widows, whose husbands had been killed at Corinth, were brought on board the _North Carolina_ and exposed for sale by Greeks, who were anxious to make a bargain. The officers paid their ransom, and giving them liberty sent them to Smyrna under charge of Perry.

While there, an event occurred which had a disastrous physical influence upon Matthew Perry all his life, and which remotely caused his death. A great fire broke out on shore which threatened to wrap the whole city in conflagration. The efficient executive of the flag-ship, ordered a large detail to land in the boats and act as firemen. The men, eager for excitement on land, worked with alacrity; but among the most zealous and hard working of all was their lieutenant. In danger and exposure, alternately heated and drenched, Perry was almost exhausted when he regained the ship. The result was an attack of rheumatism, from the recurring assaults of which he was never afterwards entirely free. Hitherto this species of internal torture had been to him an abstraction; henceforth, it was personal and concrete. Shut up like a fire in his bones, its occasional eruptions were the cause of that seeming irritableness which was foreign to his nature.

Among other visitors at Smyrna, were some Turkish ladies, who, veiled and guarded by eunuchs, came on board “ships of the new world.” No such privilege had ever been accorded them before, and these exiles of the harem, looked with eager curiosity at every-thing and everybody on the ship, though they spoke not a word. Nothing of themselves was visible except their eyes, and these—to the old commodore—“not very distinctly,” though possibly to the young officers they shone as brightly as meteors. This visit of our squadron had a stimulating effect on American commerce, though our men-of-war convoyed vessels of various Christian nations.

The Greek pirates extending the field of their operations, had now begun their depredations in open boats. Dissensions among the patriots were already doing as much harm to the sinking cause as Turkish arms.

Captain Nicholson of our navy, visiting Athens and Corinth, found the Acropolis in the hands of a faction, and the country poor and uncultivated. Corinth was but a mere name. Its streets were overgrown, its houses were roofless and empty, and the skeletons of its brave defenders lay white and unburied. The Greek fleet of one-hundred sail was unable to do much against the Turkish vessels, numbering fifteen more and usually heavier. The best successes of the patriots were by the use of fire-ships.

In spite of the low state of the Hellenic cause, Americans manifested strict neutrality, and the Greek authorities in the ports entered were duly saluted, an example which the French admiral and Austrian commodore followed.

The fleet cruised westwardly, arriving at Gibraltar, October 12, where Perry found awaiting him his appointment to the grade of acting Master Commandant.

The opening of the year 1827, found the cause of the Greeks sunk to the lowest ebb of hopelessness. Even the crews of the men-of-war, unable to get wage or food, put to sea for plunder. Friend and foe, American, as well as Turk, suffered alike.

While war and misery reigned in the eastern part of the Mediterranean, commerce with the north African nations was rapidly obliterating the memories of piracy and reprisal, which had once made Berber scimeter and Yankee cutlass cross. Peace and friendship were assiduously cultivated, and our officers were received with marked kindness and attention.

Our three little wars with the Moslems of the Mediterranean, from 1794 to 1797, from 1801 to 1804, and in 1815, seem at this day incredible and dream-like. In view of the Bey of Tunis, on the assassination of Abraham Lincoln sending a special envoy to express sympathy, and presenting his portrait to the State Department, and at the Centennial Exposition joining with us; and of Algeria being now the play ground of travelers, one must acknowledge that a mighty change has passed over the spirit of the Berbers since this century opened.

Sickness broke out on the big ship _North Carolina_, and at one time four lieutenants and one-hundred and twenty-five men were down with small-pox and catarrh. The wretchedness of the weather at first allowed little abatement of the trouble, but under acting Master Commandant Perry’s vigorous and persistent hygienic measures, including abundant fumigation, the scourge was checked. His methods were very obnoxious to some of the officers and crew, but were indispensable to secure a clean bill of health. The commodore wrote from Malta, February 14th, 1827, that the condition of the ship’s people had greatly improved.

The balmy spring breezes brought recuperation. The ship, clean and in splendid condition, was ready to sail homewards. The boatswain’s call, so welcome and always heard with a thrill of delight—“All hands up anchor for home,”—was sounded on the 31st of May. The _North Carolina_, leaving behind her classic waters, moved towards “the free hearts’ hope and home.”

The old weather-beaten hulk that now lies in the Wallabout is the same old _North Carolina_. What a change from glory to dry rot! It came to pass that the American line-of-battle ships, while the most showy, were also the most unsatisfactory class of ships in our navy. They all ended their days as store ships or as firewood. “The naval mind of the United States could not work well in old world harness.”

[5] See description in the novel _Trafalgar_, New York, 1885.