Part 6

Lieutenant Aylwin, of the _Constitution_, was severely wounded during the action. When the boarders were called to repel boarders, he mounted the quarter-deck hammock cloths, and, in the act of firing his pistol at the enemy, he received a ball through his shoulder. Notwithstanding the severity of his wound, he continued at his post until the enemy struck. A few days afterwards, when an engagement was expected with a ship, which afterwards proved to be the _Hornet_, he left his bed and repaired to quarters, though laboring under a considerable debility, and under the most excruciating pain. He died on the 28th of January, at sea. The following is the official account that Commodore Bainbridge made to the Secretary of the Navy. It is as concise and dramatic as all the reports of our naval heroes were in those days, and as he wrote Bainbridge was suffering from serious wounds and in danger of his life:

“I have the honor to inform you that on the 29th of December, at 2 P.M., in south latitude 13° 6´, west longitude 38°, and about ten leagues distant from the coast of Brazil, I fell in with, and captured, His Britannic Majesty’s frigate _Java_, of 49 guns, and upwards of four hundred men, commanded by Captain Lambert, a very distinguished officer. The action lasted one hour and fifty-five minutes, in which time the enemy was completely dismantled, not having a spar of any kind standing.

“The loss on board the _Constitution_ was 9 killed and 25 wounded. The enemy had 60 killed and 101 wounded (among the latter, Captain Lambert, mortally), but, by the enclosed letter, written on board this ship by one of the officers of the _Java_, and accidentally found, it is evident that the enemy’s wounded must have been much greater than as above stated, and who must have died of their wounds previous to their being removed. (The letter stated 60 killed and 170 wounded.)...

“Should I attempt to do justice, by representation, to the brave and good conduct of my officers and crew, I should fail in the attempt; therefore, suffice it to say that the whole of their conduct was such as to meet my highest encomiums. I beg leave to recommend the officers, particularly, to the notice of the government, as, also, the unfortunate seamen who were wounded, and the families of those brave men who fell in action.

“The great distance from our own coast, and the perfect wreck we made of the enemy’s frigate, forbade every idea of attempting to take her to the United States. I had, therefore, no alternative but burning her, which I did on the 31st, after receiving all the prisoners and their baggage, which was very hard work, only having two boats left out of eight, and not one left on board the _Java_.

“On blowing up the frigate _Java_ I proceeded to St. Salvador, where I landed all the prisoners on their parole, to return to England, and there remain until regularly exchanged, and not to serve in their professional capacities in any place or in any manner whatsoever against the United States of America until their exchange shall be effected.”

Upon the return of Commodore Bainbridge to the United States he was everywhere received with the greatest joy. Congress voted $50,000 to him and his crew, and ordered a gold medal to be struck for him and silver ones for each of his officers. New York presented him with the freedom of the city, and many banquets were given in his honor.

A pathetic and dramatic incident occurred when the wounded Captain Lambert was being moved off the ship at San Salvador. He lay on the deck suffering intense pain, when Bainbridge, supported by two officers, approached. Bending down with great difficulty, he placed Captain Lambert’s side-arms on the cot on which the latter lay, saying that the sword of so brave a man should never be taken from him; then the two wounded commanders grasped hands in mutual respect and admiration. The correspondence between Lieutenant-General Hislop and Commodore Bainbridge, after Lambert’s death, shows plainly the lofty spirit that existed then between great-minded enemies.

VI

THE “COMET”--PRIVATEER

[January 14th, 1813]

During the war of 1812 the American privateers sent home to United States ports so many hundreds of British vessels that the printed list makes quite a showing by itself. The names of the prizes taken, their tonnage and value, were published in _Niles’s Weekly Register_, of Baltimore, and each week during the progress of the war the number grew, until it seemed that the stock of _Laughing Lassies_, _Bouncing Besses_, _Arabellas_, _Lords_ something-or-other, _Ladies_ this or _Countesses_ of that, must surely be exhausted. In they came to Baltimore, to New York, or Boston by the scores--brigs and barks, schooners and ships, sloops and transports. Some were next to worthless, some were valuable, and some were veritable floating mines of wealth; some were heavily armed and had been captured after fierce fighting; others had been picked up like ripe fruit and sent home under prize-masters. Each one, however, was stamped with the seal of her captor, who might be cruising anywhere from the China Sea to the English Channel. Eager for racing, chasing, or fighting, the American privateers were watching the highways of British commerce. What did they care for armed consorts or guard-ships? They could show a clean pair of heels to the fastest cruisers that carried the red cross of St. George, or turn to and fight out of all proportion to their appearance or size--and this latter was proved true in many well-recorded instances. They were the kestrels and the game-cocks of the sea. The names of some of them were familiar to every school-boy eighty-odd years ago--_Revenge_, _Atlas_, _Young Eagle_, _Montgomery_, _Teazer_, _Decatur_, _General Armstrong_, _Comet_. Here were some tight little craft that caused their powder-monkeys fairly to smell of prize-money on their return from each successful cruise.

All of these vessels were oversparred, overarmed, and overmanned. It was the privateersman’s business to take risks, and many paid the penalty for rashness; but their fearlessness and impudence were often most astounding, and their self-reliance actually superb.

Up to the end of the first year of the war Maryland alone had sent out more than forty armed vessels, and, as a writer in the _Weekly Register_ naïvely remarks, “not one up to date has been even in _danger_ of being captured, though frequently chased by British vessels of war.”

But to come to the affair of the _Comet_, privateer, of Baltimore. Her name had become familiar all along the Atlantic coast, her “winnings” were anchored in almost every harbor, and she could have the pick of the seamen lucky enough to be ashore at any place where she put in. Her ’tween-decks were crowded with extra crews and prize-masters to man her captures when she sailed out again.

The _Comet_ was commanded by Captain Boyle, an intrepid sailor, and a man liked and trusted by his crew of 120 well-trained tars. She was as handy as a whip, and sailed like a cup-defender. She carried 6 guns in a broadside, a swivel, and a gun amidships.

It was on the 9th of January, 1813, that Captain Boyle spoke a Portuguese coasting-vessel which had just left the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil, and learned that in the harbor were three English vessels loaded and ready to sail for Europe--one large armed ship and two armed brigs.

Upon hearing this welcome news Captain Boyle shortened sail, and tacked back and forth for five days, waiting and watching. On the 14th of the month his sharp lookout was rewarded by the sight of not three but four sail coming offshore before the wind. The _Comet_ sheered away to the southward, and lay by, to give the strangers an opportunity of passing her. When they had done so, she put after them. It was quite late in the afternoon, a tremendous sea was running, and a freshening breeze lifted the _Comet_ up the sides of the huge waves and raced her down into the hollows. She overhauled the other vessels as if they had been anchored. They kept close together, rising and then sinking hulls out of sight in the great seas. They evidently had no fear of the little vessel bearing down upon them, for they made no effort to spread their lighter sails. The _Comet_ was under a press of canvas, and the water was roaring and tumbling every now and then over her forward rails.

At six o’clock, or thereabouts, the reason for the leisurely movements of the chase was discovered--one of the vessels was seen to be a large man-of-war brig. She was hanging back, evidently awaiting the American’s approach. The speed of the _Comet_ was not lessened, not a stitch was taken in, but quickly the guns were loaded with round shot and grape, and the decks were cleared for action. Then Captain Boyle hoisted the American flag. The other hoisted Portuguese colors. As the _Comet_ sheered up close, the stranger hailed and requested the privilege of sending a boat on board, saying he wished to speak with the American captain on a matter of importance.

Accordingly, the _Comet_ hove to, and her commander received the Portuguese officer a few minutes later at the companion-way. The conversation, in view of subsequent proceedings, must have been extremely interesting. The officer was a little taken aback when he saw the men standing stripped to the waist about the guns, the look of determination and the man-o’-war appearance everywhere. But he doffed his hat, and informed Captain Boyle sententiously that the vessel he had just left belonged to His Majesty of Portugal, that she carried twenty 32-pounders and a crew of 165 men.

Captain Boyle replied that he had admired her appearance greatly.

The Portuguese officer then went on to say that the three other vessels ahead were English, and were under the protection of the commander of his brig.

“By what right?” answered the captain of the _Comet_. “This is an American cruiser. We are on the high seas, the highway of all nations, and surely it belongs to America as much as to the King of Great Britain or the King of Portugal.”

The officer upon this asked to see the _Comet’s_ authority from her government. This Captain Boyle courteously showed to him. After reading the papers carefully, the officer began to advise the American captain in a manner that provoked the following reply: “I told him,” writes Boyle, in the log-book of the _Comet_, “that I was determined to exercise the authority I had, and capture those vessels if I could. He said that he should be sorry if anything disagreeable took place; that they were ordered to protect them, and should do so. I answered him that I should equally feel regret that anything disagreeable should occur; that if it did he would be the aggressor, as I did not intend to fire upon him first; that if he did attempt to oppose me or to fire upon me when trying to take those English vessels, we must try our respective strengths, as I was well prepared for such an event and should not shrink from it. He then informed me that those vessels were armed and very strong. I told him that I valued their strength but little, and would very soon put it to the test.”

What a fine old fighter this Baltimore captain must have been! Here were four vessels, each of the three smaller ones as large as his own, and one nearly twice as large, against him; the Portuguese mounting twenty guns, the English ship fourteen, and the smaller brigs ten guns apiece. Fifty-four guns against fourteen. But the American was undaunted, and the Portuguese lieutenant rowed back to his ship.

Shortly afterwards the brig hailed again, asking Captain Boyle to lower his boat and come on board.

“It is growing too dark!” shouted Captain Boyle through his speaking-trumpet, and he squared his yards and made all sail for the nearest English vessel--the big ship.

So fast a sailer was the _Comet_ and so quick in stays that she could shuttle back and forth through the little fleet in a manner that, to say the least, must have been confusing to the others. The moon was now coming out bright as the sun went down; but little of daylight was left.

The _Comet_ came up handily with the English ship (the brigs were sailing close by), and Boyle ordered her to back her main-topsail or he would fire a broadside into her. So great was the headway of the privateer, however, that she shot past, and had to luff about the other’s bows, Boyle again hailing, and saying he was coming down on the other side.

The man-of-war brig had crowded on all sail, and was hard after the American; but the latter now let drive her broadside at the ship and one of her smaller consorts, tacked quickly, and then found the man-of-war close alongside. The Portuguese, disregarding the policy of “minding one’s own business,” opened up her broadside upon the American. The _Comet_ returned this with tremendous effect, and, tacking, again let go her starboard battery at the third Englishman, who was now closing in. Nothing but bad gunnery and good sailing must have saved the daring little vessel at this moment. But she loaded and fired, and the enemy appeared to be confused and frightened. The _Comet_ stuck close to the English vessels, letting go whole broadsides into them at point-blank distance, and firing at the man-of-war whenever she came in range. The British vessels separated at last to give their “protector” a better chance, but it availed them very little. By the time the Portuguese was ready to fire the _Comet_ had spun about on her heel and was out of danger. It was the clever boxer in a crowd of clumsy bumpkins. At eleven o’clock the big ship surrendered, being cut almost to pieces and quite unmanageable. It was broad moonlight; but the moon would soon go down, and in the ensuing darkness Captain Boyle feared the others might escape him. As soon as the ship hauled down her colors he gave the first brig a broadside that ripped her bulwarks and cut away her running-gear. Immediately down came her flag, and she surrendered also. She proved to be the _Bowes_, of Liverpool.

The sea was yet running very high, but a boat was manned and lowered away with a prize-crew, and made straight for the latest capture. When the heavily laden boat was a short distance from the _Comet_, around the bows of the captured ship came the man-of-war. She fired a broadside at the rowboat, and nearly swamped it there and then; half full of water, it returned to the _Comet_. Taking the boat’s crew on board once more, the privateer headed for the Portuguese. Captain Boyle’s blood was now up with a vengeance, and in the hot exchange that followed the bumptious foreigner had so much the worst of it that he withdrew from the engagement, and left the third English vessel to her fate. Like the others, the last hauled down her flag to save herself from further punishment. The situation was unusual. It was almost pitch-dark, and, heaving about to leeward, the three captured vessels were hardly discernible. The _Bowes_ was taken possession of, she being the nearest, and the captain of the ship _George_, of Liverpool, reported that he could hardly keep his vessel afloat. The other brig, the _Gambier_, of Hull, was in much the same condition. Captain Boyle determined to stand by them both until daybreak.

As soon as it was light, it was seen that the little fleet had drifted in towards land, the wind having changed during the early morning. The Portuguese had once more joined them, and made a feint of desiring to fight again. The _Comet_ sailed to meet her; but the brig turned tail, signalled the _George_ and the _Gambier_ to make for shore, and followed as quickly as she could. Captain Boyle did not overtake them, and the three reached Pernambuco in safety--the ship in a sinking condition, the brig likewise, and the cockpit of the man-of-war, which was badly cut up below and aloft, filled with dead and wounded. The _Comet_ and the _Bowes_ reached the United States in safety, the former making several more important captures, and sailing through the entire English blockading squadron in the Chesapeake Bay to her wharf in the city of Baltimore.

VII

THE “HORNET” AND THE “PEACOCK”

[February 24th, 1813]

After Commodore Bainbridge sailed southward from Bahia on the cruise in which he fell in with and captured His Britannic Majesty’s frigate _Java_, Captain Lawrence of the United States sloop _Hornet_ had hoped to coax the _Bonne Citoyenne_, the English armed ship he was blockading, to leave the safe moorings which she kept so closely in the harbor of San Salvador. Captain Lawrence prayed each day that she might venture out and give his gunners a mark worthy of their skill. One morning, as the little _Hornet_ was lifting and tugging at her anchor in the rough water at the entrance to the outer harbor, keeping a watchful eye on the spars of the _Bonne Citoyenne_ and on those of another British packet of 12 guns that lay well inshore, a huge cloud of canvas came in sight to the eastward. Spar and sail she rose out of the horizon sky, until it was plainly seen that she was a line-of-battle ship flying the English flag. The _Montagu_ (74) had heard the news of the _Bonne Citoyenne’s_ plight, word having been brought to her as she lay in the harbor of Rio Janeiro. Immediately she had set sail for San Salvador to raise the blockade. Reluctantly Captain Lawrence, on sight of her, got up his anchor and slipped into the harbor. He did not stay there long, however, and, after tacking about some time, escaped to sea that same night at nine o’clock. There were no ships of the line in the American navy at that time, and, perforce, the only thing left for any of our cruisers to do was to give those of the enemy the widest berth. So Lawrence, in the _Hornet_, shifted his cruising-grounds and went out into blue water. On the 4th of February, 1813, he captured the British brig _Resolution_, of 10 guns, and, not caring to man her, he took out $23,000 in specie and set her on fire. Then for over a week the _Hornet_ cruised to and fro off the coast of Maranham without sighting a single sail. On the 22d of February Lawrence stood for Demerara, and on the 24th he discovered a brig off to leeward. At once he gave chase, but running into shallow water, and having no pilot, he had to haul offshore, much to his disgust, as the other vessel made her way in near the mouth of the Demerara River, and anchored close to a small fort about two and a half leagues from the outer bar, where the _Hornet_ had been forced to come about. As the latter had done so, however, her lookout had discovered a vessel at anchor half-way in towards the shore. A peep through the glass showed her to be a brig of war with the English colors flying. Captain Lawrence determined to get at her; but to do this he had to beat to windward to avoid a wide shoal on which the waves were breaking furiously. At 3 P.M., as he had about made up his mind that the vessel at anchor and the _Hornet_ were surely to try conclusions, Lawrence discovered another sail on his weather-quarter and edging down towards him.

In a few minutes over an hour the new-comer hoisted English colors also, and was seen to be a large man-o’-war brig. The _Hornet_ cleared for action. As was usual in all naval actions when the wind was the sole motive power, both vessels manoeuvred for a time, the _Hornet_ trying to win the advantage of the weather-gage from her antagonist. But do his best Lawrence could not get it until another hour had passed; then finding that the _Hornet_ was a better sailer than the English brig, he came about. The two vessels passed each other on different tacks at the distance of a few hundred feet--half pistol-shot.

Up to this time not a gun had been fired in the affair. But as they came abreast they exchanged broadsides, the Englishman going high, but the _Hornet’s_ round and grape playing havoc with the enemy’s lower rigging. The brig held on for a few minutes, and then Lawrence discovered her to be in the act of wearing. He seized his opportunity, bore up, and receiving the starboard broadside, which did him little damage, he took a position close under the brig’s starboard quarter. So well directed was the vicious fire that was now poured into the English vessel that in less than fifteen minutes down came her flag. No sooner had it reached the deck, however, when another crawled up in the fore-rigging. It was an ensign, union down; the brig was sinking. The sea was heavy, and before a boat could be lowered down came the Englishman’s main-mast. Lieutenant Shubrick, who had been on the _Constitution_ when she captured the _Guerrière_ and the _Java_, put out in one of the _Hornet’s_ boats, and soon reached the captured vessel’s side, and found that she was H.B.M. brig _Peacock_, 22 guns, commanded by Captain William Peake, who had been killed by the last broadside from the _Hornet_. There was not one moment to lose; six feet of water were in the hold, and the _Peacock’s_ decks were crowded with dead and wounded. She was settling fast. Her anchor was let go, and the _Hornet_ coming up, let go hers also close alongside. Every endeavor was now made to save life; the men who a few minutes before had been fighting one another pulled on the same rope together and manned the same boats. The _Peacock’s_ guns were thrown overboard; such shot-holes as could be got at were plugged; but the water gained despite the furious men at the pumps and the bailing at the hatchways. The _Peacock_ was doomed. The body of Captain Peake was carried into his cabin and covered with the flag he had died so bravely defending, to sink with her--“a shroud and sepulchre worthy so brave a sailor.” All but some of the slightly wounded had been removed, and there remained but a boat-load more to take off the lurching wreck, when she suddenly pitched forward and sank in five and a half fathoms, carrying down with her thirteen of her own crew and three American seamen--John Hart, Joseph Williams, and Hannibal Boyd. Fine old down-east names, mark you.

A boat belonging to the _Peacock_ broke away with four of her crew in it before the vessel sank. They probably tried to make their escape to land. In writing about this little episode afterwards, Lawrence says, “I sincerely hope they reached the shore; but from the heavy sea running at the time, the shattered state of the boat, and the difficulty of landing on the coast, I am fearful they were lost.” Captain Lawrence’s treatment of his prisoners was such as uniformly characterized the officers of our navy, “who won by their magnanimity those whom they had conquered by their valor.”

The loss on board the _Hornet_, outside of the three seamen drowned, was trifling--one man killed and three wounded, two by the explosion of a cartridge. The vessel received little or no damage. All the time that the action was being fought the other brig lay in full sight, about six miles off (she proved afterwards to have been _L’Espiègle_, of 16 guns), but she showed no desire to enter into the conflict. Thinking that she might wish to meet the _Hornet_ later, Lawrence made every exertion to prepare his ship for a second action, and by nine o’clock a new set of sails was bent, wounded spars secured, boats stowed away, and the _Hornet_ was ready to fight again. At 2 A.M. she got under way, and stood to the westward and northward under easy sail.