Part 4

At the end of a hot five minutes there was a sharp crack aloft, and the main-topmast of the _Wasp_ swayed and fell, bringing down the main-topsail yard across the fore-topsail braces and rendering the head-sails unmanageable. Three minutes more and away went the gaff at the jaws, and the mizzen-topgallant-sail fluttered to the deck like a huge wounded bird.

The American, slightly in advance, fell off her course and crossed her enemy’s bows, firing and raking her at close range most fearfully. At once the fire of the Englishman slackened, and the _Wasp_ drifted slowly back to her former position.

Both vessels were jumping so in the seaway that boarding would be attended by mutual danger. The enemy revived from the destructive broadside, fired a few more shots, and the last brace of the _Wasp_ fell over her side, leaving the masts unsupported, and, badly wounded as they were, in a most critical condition.

“We must decide this matter at once,” said Captain Jones, as he looked at the creaking spars, and he gave orders to wear ship. Slowly his vessel answered, and, paying off, the collision followed. With a grinding jar the _Wasp_ rubbed along the Englishman’s bow, and the jib-boom of the latter, extending clear across the deck immediately over the American commander’s head, fouled in the mizzen-shrouds. It was not necessary to make her fast, and she lay so fair for raking that Jones gave orders for another broadside.

As the gunners of the _Wasp_ threw out their rammers the ends touched the enemy’s sides, and the muzzles of two 12-pounders went through the latter’s bow-ports and swept the deck’s length.

Jack Lange was an able American seaman who had once been impressed into the British service, and the excitement of the moment was too much for his feverish blood. Taking his cutlass in his teeth, he leaped atop a gun and laid hold of the enemy’s nettings.

“Come out of that, sir! Wait for orders!” roared Captain Jones, who wished to fire again.

But if Jack Lange heard he did not hesitate, and, despite the command, hauled himself alone over the bows. Some of the men left their guns at this and picked up pikes and boarding-axes.

Lieutenant Biddle glanced at his commander, the latter nodded grimly, and with a spring the lieutenant gained the hammock cloth and reached up for the ropes overhead. The vessels lurched and one of his feet caught in a tangle, from which he vainly tried to free himself.

Little Midshipman Baker, who was too short to make a reach of it, thought he saw his chance, and, laying hold of Lieutenant Biddle’s coat-tails in his eagerness, tried to swarm up his superior’s legs. The result was, however, that both fell back on the rail, and came within an ace of pitching overboard into the sea. Jumping up quickly, Lieutenant Biddle took advantage of a heave of the _Wasp_ and scrambled over the enemy’s bowsprit on to the forecastle.

There stood Jack Lange, with his cutlass in his folded arms, gazing at a wondrous sight. Not a living soul was on the deck but a wounded man at the wheel and three officers huddled near the taffrail! But the colors were still whipping and snapping overhead, and, two or three more of the _Wasp’s_ boarders tumbling on board, the little party, headed by Biddle, made their way aft. Immediately the officers, two of whom were wounded, threw down their swords, and one of them leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.

The young lieutenant jumped into the rigging and hauled down the flag. It was almost beyond belief that such carnage and complete destruction could have taken place in a time so short. But a small proportion of the crew had escaped. The wounded and dying lay everywhere, the berth-deck was crowded, and there were not enough of the living to minister to their comrades. H. M. S. _Frolic_ was a charnel-ship.

The _Wasp’s_ crew brought on board all their blankets, and the American surgeon’s mate was soon busy attending to the wounded.

With great difficulty the two vessels were separated, for the _Frolic_ had locked her antagonist, as it were, in a dying embrace; and no sooner were they clear than both of the prize’s masts fell (one bringing down the other), covering the dead and wounded, and hampering all the efforts of Lieutenant Biddle and his crew to clear the decks.

All this time three great white topsails had been pushing up above the horizon, and soon it was made out that a large ship of some kind was bearing down, carrying all the canvas she safely could in the sharp blow.

Jones, thinking that it might be one of the convoy returning to seek the _Frolic_, called his tired crew to quarters, instructing Lieutenant Biddle to fit a jury rig and to make with his charge for some Southern port. It was not to be, however, and the gallant victory was to have a different termination.

The lookout on the foremast called down something that changed the complexion of matters entirely.

“A seventy-four carrying the English flag!” he shouted. That was all. The men at the _Wasp’s_ guns put out their matches. There was nothing to do but wait and be taken. Any resistance would be worse than foolish.

As the great battle-ship came bowling along she passed so close that the faces could be seen looking through her three tiers of great open ports. She disdained to hail, fired one gun over the little _Wasp_, and swept on. Captain Jones hauled down his flag, and read the word _Poictiers_ under the Britisher’s galleries. In a minute or two the latter retook the _Frolic_, and, lowering her boats, placed prize crews on board both her and the Yankee sloop. After some repairing, she set sail and carried her captives to Bermuda.

As in all the separate engagements of the time, comparisons were made between the armaments and crews of the fighters, and the press of Great Britain and America began the customary argument. Probably the _Wasp_ had a few more men, but to quote:

“The _Frolic_ mounted sixteen 32-pound carronades, four 12-pounders on the main-deck and two 12-pound carronades. She was, therefore, superior to the _Wasp_ by exactly four 12-pounders. The number of men on board, as stated by the officers of the _Frolic_, was 110. The number of seamen on the _Wasp_ was 102. But it could not be ascertained whether in this 110 were included marines and officers, for the _Wasp_ had, besides her 102 seamen, officers and marines, making the whole crew about 135. What, however, is decisive as to their comparative force is that the officers of the _Frolic_ acknowledged that they had as many men as they knew what to do with, and, in fact, the _Wasp_ could have spared fifteen men.... The exact number of killed and wounded on board the _Frolic_ could not be determined, but from the observations of our officers and the declarations of those of the _Frolic_ the number could not be less than about thirty killed, including two officers, and of the wounded between forty and fifty, the captain and lieutenant being of the number. The _Wasp_ had five killed and five slightly wounded.”

Captain Jones in his report speaks of the bravery of his officers, the gallantry of his adversary, Captain Whinyates, and makes little mention of himself. Upon his exchange and return to the United States he was received with every honor belonging to a victor, and the sum of $25,000 was voted by Congress to be divided as prize money among his crew. The _Wasp_ soon flew the British flag, but was lost at sea. Strange to relate, this was also the fate of the second _Wasp_ that was soon afloat in the American service, and that had a career which was surpassed by none of the smaller vessels of the day.

IV

THE “UNITED STATES” AND THE “MACEDONIAN”

[October 25th, 1812]

“Then quickly met our nation’s eyes The noblest sight in nature-- A first-rate frigate as a prize Brought home by brave Decatur.”

--_Old Song._

Eighty-four years ago, throughout the country, the name Decatur was toasted at every table, was sung from the forecastle to the drawing-room, from the way-side tavern to the stage of the city playhouse. Today, written or spoken, it stands out like a watchword, reminiscent of the days of brave gallantry and daring enterprise at sea.

Those writers who have been tempted by their Americanism and pride to take up the navy as a field have repeated over and over again, more than likely, everything that could be said about Stephen Decatur.

On his father’s side he was of French descent, as his name shows, his grandfather being a native of La Rochelle in France, and his grandmother an American lady from Rhode Island. He was named after his father, Stephen Decatur, who was born at Newport, but who had at an early age removed to Philadelphia, where he had married the beautiful Miss Pine.

On the establishment of an American navy he was appointed to the _Delaware_, sloop of war. This was after he had commanded one or two merchant vessels and had proved himself a seaman. When the frigate _Philadelphia_ was built by subscriptions of loyal-hearted merchants, the command of her was tendered to the elder Decatur by the particular request of the subscribers. The value of inheritance could not be shown more strongly than by looking at the career of the son born to him on the 5th of January, 1779. At the time of the birth of Stephen Decatur, Jr., his parents were residing on the eastern shore of Maryland during the days the British were in possession of the town of Philadelphia. After the evacuation of that place they returned, and here their son was educated with the idea of making a sailor of him from the very first.

Young Decatur entered the navy in March, 1798, and joined the frigate _United States_, commanded by Commodore John Barry, who, by-the-way, was instrumental in securing the appointment for him. It was not long before he was promoted to be a lieutenant, and made a cruise on the Spanish Main on the brig _Norfolk_ during the war against the French cruisers. Returning after the peace was concluded with France, he was ordered to the _Essex_ as first lieutenant, and sailed with Commodore Dale’s squadron to the Mediterranean. This trip he made twice more, for on the return of that squadron he was ordered to the _New York_ under Commodore Morris, who took the same station. After a short stay Decatur returned to the _United States_, and soon afterwards he was given his first command, the brig _Argus_, and with her proceeded to join Commodore Preble’s squadron, and was transferred to the command of the schooner _Enterprise_, exchanging vessels with Lieutenant Isaac Hull. The story of the capture and blowing up of the frigate _Philadelphia_, which under Captain Bainbridge had run ashore and been taken by the Tripolitans, has been described times without number. There is not space to write about it here. It is a tale in itself. But after the success of Decatur’s attempt, in which he overcame obstacles apparently insurmountable, the eyes of the country were turned upon him, and the great things that he afterwards accomplished were predicted.

Decatur was one of those men whose courage and lofty spirit make it impossible for them to remain spectators or mere directors of events in which they are interested. It was necessary for him to be in the midst of the fight, sword or pistol in hand, like a common seaman. The story of his duel with the Turkish commander in the harbor of Tripoli, where, with a sword broken at the hilt, he fought a hand-to-hand fight and emerged victorious, gives a little insight into his character. Upon his return to his country, after some short service he was appointed to the command of the _Chesapeake_, succeeding Commodore Barron, who had struck to the British frigate _Leopard_ in 1807. It was here that the bad feeling between these officers that led to the tragic ending of Decatur’s life began. As soon as the frigate _United States_ was put in commission, Decatur was relieved of his command of the _Chesapeake_ (which, to tell the truth, he did not much relish), and thus found himself, on the outbreak of the war with Great Britain, with plenty of opportunities before him to add to his laurels.

In October of the year 1812 the frigate _United States_ was one of a small squadron that was cruising not far from the island of Madeira. On the twelfth day of the month she parted with the _President_, 44, and later with the 16-gun brig _Argus_, both of which had sailed with her from the port of Boston, all well officered, well manned, and eager to meet the enemy. Bearing away southward into the paths of the British West-Indiamen, Decatur, on the _United States_, hoped to intercept a rich prize or two, or, better, if possible, to fall in with one of His Majesty’s vessels, which were constantly hovering in that neighborhood. Sharp lookouts were kept at the mast-head at all hours, and the crew were spoiling for action.

Sunday morning, the 25th, dawned bright and clear. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and the frigate was under easy canvas, steering a course southeast by east. An observation showed her to be in latitude 29°, longitude 29° 30´ west. As soon as daylight was fairly broad, off to windward, close to the horizon, the lookout descried a sail, and in a few minutes it was discovered that the stranger was an English ship of war carrying all but her lighter canvas. Quickly the _United States_ blossomed out from the topgallant yard to her main-course; and although the breeze was strong, studding-sails were set, and, tossing the heavy sea to left and right, she was soon hard upon the chase. The _United States_ was a good sailer--all of our ships were in those days--and long before seven o’clock it was seen that she was overhauling the enemy rapidly. So great was the enthusiasm of her officers and men that the cheers they gave were borne by the wind to the Englishman before a single gun of the action had been fired. Through the glass it could be seen that the enemy were at quarters. At nine in the morning Decatur luffed a little, took in his lighter sails, and fired his gun-deck battery; but the balls fell short. Both vessels were now on the same tack, close on the wind, and Decatur found that it was impossible for the _United States_ to gain the weather-gage.

Broadsides were exchanged as the distance was lessened, and for half an hour the commanders continued firing, doing no vital damage. Suddenly the enemy changed his course, squared his yards, and crossed Decatur’s bows, letting drive his forward battery. Still the _United States_ held on; and here the Englishman made a fatal error. It is given by some authorities that Captain John Carden, the commander of the _Macedonian_, supposed his opponent to be the _Essex_, which only mounted carronades; therefore he commenced action at long-range. It did not take long, however, to apprise him that he was out in his reckoning, for although the distance was so great that carronades and muskets were of no avail, almost every shot from the heavy metal of the American struck its mark, despite the pitching cross-sea. Finding it was too late to run, Captain Carden bravely bore down upon the _United States_ to engage her at close quarters, as at the distance at which the action had commenced he was being literally chopped to pieces. It was reported that during the engagement, which then began in earnest, so incessant were the broadsides of the American vessel the Englishman supposed her to be on fire, and three or four times cheered in their turn as the news ran through the ship; but they were soon undeceived. The splendid gunnery of the Americans was apparent as the vessels neared. The rigging and spars of the _Macedonian_ were riddled and cut, many of her guns were dismounted, and in a few minutes her mizzen-mast went by the board. Pitching to and fro, shrouded in the smoke which blew towards her from the enemy’s guns, the _United States_ kept up her destructive fire. For an instant the smoke cleared away, and there hung the main-yard-arm of the English frigate in two pieces; her main-topmast was gone, her fore-topmast was tottering, and no colors were seen floating above her deck; her bowsprit was swaying to and fro, held only by the jib-forestay, and sailing was impossible. She ceased to gather headway, lurching and yawing to one side and the other helplessly.

Strange to say, the _United States_ remained almost unhurt. Decatur ceased his fire as he saw the enemy’s plight, furled his mizzen-topsail (the mizzen-topmast being badly wounded), drew away, tacked, and came under the lee of the English ship. She gave him a feeble broadside, and Decatur luffed again across her bows. As he did so, Carden, perceiving further resistance to be vain, hauled down his colors, which had again been hoisted on a spar at the stump of the mizzen-mast.

Decatur, his face flushed with victory, hailed in person: “What ship is that?”

“His Majesty’s frigate _Macedonian_, thirty-eight, John S. Carden,” was the response.

Immediately a boat was lowered, and an officer was sent on board. In the two hours of the engagement she had suffered terribly. Not less than one hundred round-shot were counted in her hull, many of them between wind and water. She had nothing standing but her main-mast and fore-yard. Her boats were useless, with exception of one small quarter-boat; and out of the officers and crew, three hundred in number, thirty-six were killed and sixty-eight were wounded. The American loss was five killed and six wounded.

The _Macedonian_ was but two years old, a fine vessel of her class, rated thirty-eight, and carrying forty-nine guns--eighteen on her gun-deck, and thirty-two-pound carronades above. The _United States_ was heavier and stronger, both in metal and men, it cannot be denied, having a crew of four hundred and seventy-eight. But, even taking into account the disparity in the weight of metal and the number of crew, the action proved conclusively that American-built ships and American seamen were to open the eyes of the world in conflicts on the sea.

Now comes the courtesy, the almost stilted politeness, that always seems as if prepared especially for dramatic effect before translation into history. As the brave Carden stepped upon the deck of the _United States_ he proffered his sword to Decatur.

“No, sir,” exclaimed the latter, doffing his cocked hat, “I cannot receive the sword of a man who has so bravely defended his ship; but,” he added, smiling graciously, “I will receive your hand.”

As an honored guest, Decatur led the vanquished to his cabin, where refreshments, to quote from another account of the affair, “were set out and partaken of in a friendly spirit by the two commanders.”

Contrary to the opinion formed by the first inspection, Decatur found his prize capable of being refitted, and he determined to bring her to an American port. The _United States_ was speedily repaired. In charge of Lieutenant Allen, who had made a jury-rigging for the _Macedonian_ turning her for the nonce into a bark, captor and captive set sail for the United States. On the 4th of December his prize entered the harbor of Newport, and it was upon this occasion that the old song was written from which the stanza at the head of this article is taken.

Nothing could be more dramatic than the way the victory was announced at Washington. Midshipman Hamilton, who was in the engagement with Decatur, and served with signal bravery, was sent with the captured flag of the _Macedonian_ to present it to his father, Paul Hamilton, then Secretary of the Navy. He arrived in Washington on the evening of the 8th of December. A ball was in progress, and the Secretary of the Navy was present. The room was filled with beautiful women, with men in all the color and glory of gold lace, epaulets, and side-arms, when Hamilton entered. He carried the flag of the _Macedonian_ wrapped about his shoulders. Instantly he was surrounded. The silk-stockinged dandies caught him up on their shoulders, and it is even on record that, strange to the customs of the times, dignity for once was cast aside, and a cheer rang through the ballroom. In the possession of the author is a letter (hitherto unpublished) written by Mrs. B. H. Latrobe, grandmother of the ex-Mayor of Baltimore, to Mrs. Juliana Miller. It gives such a graphic picture of the times that an extract from it cannot fail of interest. The letter is dated Washington, December 14th, and reads thus:

“The dulness of the city has, however, been removed in some degree by a splendid entertainment on board the frigate _Constellation_.” We were invited to be there at eleven, to pass the day. The vessel lay about half a mile from the shore, and two very elegant barges of twelve oars conveyed the company. This was the only unpleasant part of the amusement, for the day proved extremely cold, and a high wind was blowing. However, we all arrived safe about twelve, and the deck was closed in with flags, awnings, etc., and two stoves so effectually heated it as to make the temperature delightful. The dancing soon commenced, and continued till three, when the boatswain’s whistle called us to a magnificent dinner below. The President and Mrs. Madison were seated at the end of a very long table; but I cannot tell you all the company, and can only say that the number was said to be five hundred. After dinner the dancing commenced again, and continued till about six in the evening, when the company broke up. On Tuesday a very splendid ball was given to the navy officers Hull, Morris, Stewart, etc. My husband could not be absent, as he holds an office in the Navy Department, and I was not sorry we went, as it is not likely I shall ever witness such another scene. At about five in the evening my husband came home, and informed me that we must immediately illuminate our house, as the account of a victory gained by Commodore Decatur had just arrived. My house in ten minutes was prepared for lighting up, and we prepared for the ball. The Avenue was very brilliant on our way to the Capitol Hill, and, the company assembling, the crowd was immense. Mrs. Madison was there, but not the President. The evening went on, with crowding as usual upon the toes and trains of those that did not dance, when, about ten o’clock, a loud huzza announced the arrival of young Archibald Hamilton, who had that moment appeared with the colors of the _Macedonian_. He was borne into the room by many officers. Good little Mrs. Hamilton, his mother, stood by me, and was so much agitated at the sight of her son that she must have fallen had I not stepped forward and offered her my arm. The young man sprang into her arms, his sisters threw their arms around him, and the scene was quite affecting. The colors were then held up by several gentlemen over the heads of Hull, Morris, and Stewart, and ‘Hail, Columbia!’ played, and there were huzzas until my head swayed.