Part 9

Although their crews were exposed to full view and stood waist-high above the bulwarks, they did no dodging; their shots were well directed, and they raked the Englishmen fore and aft, carrying away all the masts of the _Detroit_ and the mizzen-mast of the _Queen Charlotte_.

A few minutes after 3 P.M., a white flag at end of a boarding-pike was lifted above the bulwarks of the _Hunter_. At the sight of this the _Chippeway_ and _Little Belt_ crowded all sail and tried to escape, but in less than a quarter of an hour they were captured and brought back by the _Trippe_ and the _Scorpion_, under the commands of Lieutenant Thomas Holdup and Sailing-master Stephen Champlin. With a ringing cheer the word went through the line that the British had surrendered. The sovereignty of Lake Erie belonged to America. The question of supremacy was settled.

The events of the day had been most dramatic. This fight amid the wooded shores and extending arms of the bay was viewed from shore by hundreds of anxious Americans. The bright sunlight and calm surface of the lake, the enshrouding fog of smoke that from shore hid all but the spurts of flame and the topmasts and occasionally the flags of the vessels engaged, all had combined to make a drama of the most exciting and awe-inspiring interest. Nor was the last act to be a letting down. Perry determined to receive the surrender of the defeated enemy nowhere else but on the deck of his old flagship that was slowly drifting up into the now intermingled fleets.

Once more he lowered his broad pennant, and rowed out for the crippled _Lawrence_. He was received on board with three feeble cheers, the wounded joining in, and a number of men crawling up from the slaughter-pen of a cockpit, begrimed and bloody.

On board the _Lawrence_ there had been left but one surgeon, Usher Parsons. He came on deck red to the elbows from his work below, and the terrible execution done by the concentrated English fire was evident to the English officers as they stepped on board the flagship. Dead men lay everywhere. A whole gun’s crew were littered about alongside of their wrecked piece. From below came the mournful howling of a dog. The cockpit had been above the water’s surface, owing to the _Lawrence’s_ shallow draught, and here was a frightful sight. The wounded had been killed outright or wounded again as they lay on the surgeon’s table. Twice had Perry called away the surgeon’s aids to help work ship, and once his hail of “Can any wounded men below there pull a rope?” was answered by three or four brave, mangled fellows crawling up on deck to try to do their duty. All this was apparent to the English officers as they stepped over the bodies of the dead and went aft to where Perry stood with his arms folded, no vainglorious expression on his face, but one of sadness for the deeds that had been done that day. Each of the English officers in turn presented his sword, and in reply Perry bowed and requested that the side-arms should be retained. As soon as the formalities had been gone through with, Perry tore off the back of an old letter he took from his pocket, and, using his stiff hat for a writing-desk, scribbled the historic message which a detractor has charged he cribbed from Julius Cæsar: “We have met the enemy and they are ours:--two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one sloop.”

Calling away a small boat, he sent Midshipman Forrest with the report to General William Henry Harrison.

A computation has been made by one historian of the number of guns directed against the _Lawrence_ in the early part of the action. The English had heavier armaments and more long guns; they could fight at a distance where the chubby carronade was useless. The _Lawrence_ had but seven guns whose shots could reach her opponents, while the British poured into her the concentrated fire of thirty-two! This accounts for the frightful carnage.

When the _Lawrence_ was being shot through and through, and there were but three guns that could reply to the enemy’s fire, Lieutenant Yarnell, disfigured by a bad wound across his face from a splinter, came up to where Perry was standing. “The officers of my division have all been cut down,” he said. “Can I have others?” Perry looked about him and sent three of his aids to help Yarnell, but in less than a quarter of an hour the lieutenant returned again. His words were almost the same as before, but he had a fresh wound in his shoulder. “These officers,” he said, “have been cut down also.”

“There are no more,” Perry replied. “Do your best without them.”

Three times was Yarnell wounded, and three times after his wounds had been hurriedly dressed he returned to his post.

Dulany Forrest, the midshipman whom Perry sent with the despatch to General Harrison, had a most remarkable escape. He was a brave lad who had faced death before; he had seen the splinters fly in the action between the _Constitution_ and the _Java_. Forrest was standing close to Captain Perry when a grape-shot that had glanced from the side of a port struck the mast, and, again deflected, caught the midshipman in the chest. He fell, gasping, at Perry’s feet.

“Are you badly hurt, lad?” asked the latter, anxiously, as he raised the midshipman on his knee.

“No, sir; not much,” the latter answered, as he caught his breath. “But this is my shot, I think.” And with that he extracted the half-spent ball from his clothing and slipped it into his pocket.

Midshipman Henry Laub was killed in the cockpit just after having had a dressing applied to his shattered right arm. A Narragansett Indian who served as a gunner in the forward division of the _Lawrence_ was killed in the same manner.

A summary of the losses on both sides shows that, despite the death-list of the _Lawrence_, the English loss was more severe. On board the American flagship twenty-two were killed and sixty-one were wounded. On board the _Niagara_ two killed and twenty-five wounded. The _Ariel_ had one killed and three wounded. The _Scorpion_, two killed. The _Caledonia_, three wounded; and the _Somers_ and _Trippe_ each showed but two wounded men apiece. In all, twenty-seven were killed and ninety-six wounded on the American side. The comparison of the loss of the rest of the fleet and that suffered by the _Lawrence_ makes a remarkable showing. The English lost forty-one killed and ninety-four wounded altogether. A number of Canadian Indians were found on board the English vessels. They had been engaged as marksmen, but the first shot had taken all the fight out of them and they had hidden and skulked for safety.

Perry’s treatment of the prisoners was magnanimous. Everything that would tend to relieve the sufferings of the wounded was done, and relief was distributed impartially among the sufferers on both sides. The result of this action was a restoration of practical peace along the frontier of the lake. The British evacuated Detroit and Michigan, and the dreaded invasion of the Indians that the settlers had feared so long was headed off.

Perry, who held but a commission of master commandant, despite his high acting rank, was promoted at once to a captaincy, the date of his commission bearing the date of his victory. He was given the command of the frigate _Java_, a new 44-gun ship then fitting out at Baltimore. Gold medals were awarded to him and to Elliot by Congress, and silver medals to each of the commissioned officers. A silver medal also was given to the nearest male relative of Lieutenant Brooks of the marines, and swords to the nearest male relatives of Midshipmen Laub, Claxton, and Clark. Three months’ extra pay was voted to all the officers, seamen, and marines, and, in addition, Congress gave $225,000 in prize-money, to be divided among the American forces engaged in the action. This sum was distributed in the following proportions: Commodore Chauncey, who was in command on the lakes, $12,750; Perry and Elliot, $7140 each--besides which Congress voted Perry an additional $5000; the commanders of gunboats, lieutenants, sailing-masters, and lieutenants of marines received $2295 each; midshipmen, $811; petty officers, $447 per capita; and marines and sailors, $209 apiece.

No money, however, could repay the brave men for the service they had rendered the country. Today the dwellers along the shores of Lake Erie preserve the anniversary of the battle as an occasion for rejoicing. While the naval actions at sea reflected honor and glory to their commanders and credit to the service, the winning of the battle of Lake Erie averted a national catastrophe.

XI

THE DEFENCE OF THE “GENERAL ARMSTRONG” [September 26th, 1814]

Samuel Chester Reid was born at Norwich, Connecticut, in August, 1783. Like the majority of the commanders who gained renown during the war of 1812, his seafaring life began at a very early age. At eleven years he made his first voyage, and shortly afterwards he was captured by a French privateer, and for some time confined in the prison at Basseterre. He was released after six months’ imprisonment, and, turning towards the regular navy, he served as acting midshipman on the U.S.S. _Baltimore_, and saw a good bit of active service with the squadron under Commodore Truxton in the West Indies.

As he held no regular commission in the service, he saw the great chance and opportunity presented for privateering enterprise, and took command of the _General Armstrong_, privateer. Her cruises were uniformly successful, and had it not been that circumstances forced her into national prominence she would probably have been forgotten like a hundred others of her class that had a vogue at the time. They enjoyed the popularity of the successful actor, but their names have gone out of people’s memories after their short careers of glory.

But there has probably been as much writing done about the wonderful defence of the _General Armstrong_, under Captain Samuel Reid, as there has been about any action in which ships of our regular navy participated. Captain Reid died in 1861, but even after his death the “_Armstrong_ affair” was long kept before the public mind, owing to the claims of the heirs of the owners of the American vessel for damages against the Portuguese government.

The _General Armstrong_ was a fast-sailing, cleverly handled little vessel, and she sailed from the port of New York, her crew having been recruited there. It was a motley gathering, as a great many of the crews of these vessels were, being composed of the pick of the merchant service, a few down-east fishermen, and, not strange to relate, adventurers of every sort and description, who, however, proved themselves to be great fighters when under competent leadership. Her full complement was about ninety men. The brig’s armament was rather a peculiar one; she carried no carronades, but had three long nines on either side, and a long 24-pounder amidships. She could fight at a greater distance than many of the vessels belonging to the regular service.

Farragut in his journal mentions that when he was a midshipman of the _Essex_, sailing from New York, a sail was sighted off the weather beam. To the surprise of the officers she was carrying more canvas than might have been considered prudent considering the weather, but she stood up under it and legged it so fast that she soon came within hailing distance of the _Essex_. The latter vessel, not knowing her character, had her men at quarters. All the officers admired the way the little brig was handled. Upon speaking her she proved to be the _General Armstrong_, bound upon her second cruise into British waters--her first had been most successful.

But to the event which has handed her name down to history. On September 26th, 1814, the _General Armstrong_ came to anchor in the Portuguese harbor of Fayal. At about sunset of the same day three large ships, flying the British flag, were seen to enter the roads.

As the privateer lay some distance out and it was dead calm within the harbor, Captain Reid deemed it wise to trust entirely to the neutrality of the port, and to claim the protection that should be given to any vessel by a neutral power.

As darkness fell he saw some suspicious actions on the part of the British ships--the _Carnation_ coming as close as pistol-shot range, and the others approaching to a distance of less than two miles; through the glass Reid could see that boats were being lowered. He trusted, however, for some time in the good faith and justice of the British captains, but these preparations suggested no peaceful intentions, and he began to warp his brig closer in to shore, anchoring at last, stem and stern, under the very guns of the castle that commanded the harbor.

Calling his men on deck, he told them that he thought that the British intended, if possible, to cut him out. At once the temper of the crew was evident. A boatswain’s mate approached him, and, saluting, said: “You can trust in us, sir. What you _say_ we _do_.”

It was growing dusk. At about eight o’clock Captain Reid plainly saw four boats filled with armed men row down towards him. As soon as they were within hailing distance he stepped upon the bulwarks, and, making a trumpet of his hands, he shouted: “Boats there! Approach no nearer; for your safety I warn you.”

The rowing ceased, and there was evidently a consultation among the officers in command. Captain Reid’s men were standing at their quarters. Two of the guns were heavily loaded with grape. After talking a few minutes it was evident that the English decided to risk the venture, for the oars caught the water at once, and they came dashing on towards the American vessel. All dissembling was laid aside, and Reid ordered his men to fire. Two of the boats mounted swivels forward and returned shots in answer. A discharge of small-arms also began, but the torrent of grape that had raked one of the cutters had killed a first lieutenant and several of his men, and most of the others were wounded. The boats swung back, and made for the sanctuary of the vessels in the harbor.

The moon had now risen, and it was very light. Large crowds had gathered on the shore, but the castle displayed no intention of taking any part in the affair.

The commanders of His Britannic Majesty’s ships _Plantagenet_, _Rota_, and _Carnation_ held a consultation. It resulted in a “most outrageous violation of the neutrality of a friendly port, and utter contempt of the laws of civilized nations,” to quote from the report of John G. Dabney, American consul at Fayal.

Angered at the result of their first attempt, the English threw all caution aside. They crowded as many men as possible into all the boats they had, armed them with carronades, swivels, and small-arms, and once more rowed down in two divisions; but Reid was waiting for them. The guns were double-shotted, and he moved two of the long nines from the other side across the deck and cut ports for them in the bulwarks. A tremendous action now began, which lasted about forty minutes. Never in any of the hostile meetings between the frigates or the fleets of the United States and England has such destruction and carnage been recorded, in proportion to the number engaged, as is shown by the loss of the British on this occasion. The fire from the brig cut away whole boats’ crews and almost destroyed the boats. It is estimated that about 400 men were divided among the flotilla of the attacking party. They fought bravely, but there is merit in being well prepared for defence. More than half of the British were either killed or wounded, “Long Tom,” the 25-pounder, doing terrible execution.

The outmost boats showed signs of giving up the contest. Those nearer the _General Armstrong_ continued to fight desperately, but none had approached near enough to cut their way through the boarding nettings which Reid had strung along the sides.

Seeing that there was an intention to retire, if possible, on the part of the British, he slackened his fire. Two boats were drifting, however, beneath the quarter of the privateer. They were loaded with their own dead. From these two boats only seventeen men reached shore alive, and, with the exception of three, all of these were wounded.

The following day, from dawn until sunset, the British were occupied in burying their dead, among them being two lieutenants, one midshipman of the _Rota_, and the first lieutenant of the _Plantagenet_, who died of his wounds. The British endeavored to conceal the extent of the loss, but even they admit that they lost in killed and those who died of their wounds afterwards upward of one hundred and twenty-five officers and men.

The captain of the _Rota_, in his report, stated that he lost seventy men from his own ship.

It was claimed by the English that the first expedition of four boats, which was sent out early in the evening of the 26th, was merely a reconnoitring party, and had no hostile intentions; but it seemed a strange thing to reconnoitre at night an enemy’s vessel in a friendly port with one hundred and twenty armed men, a third as many again as were on board the American brig. There is no question, viewing the proceedings dispassionately, that they had hoped to take Reid by surprise.

To quote from Dabney’s report once more: “In vain can he [the British commander] expect by such subterfuge to shield himself from the indignation of the world and the merited resentment of his own government and nation for thus trampling on the sovereignty of their most ancient and faithful ally, and for the wanton sacrifice of British lives.”

The comparison of the loss sustained by the American and by the British sides is almost ridiculous--on the _Armstrong_ two were killed and seven wounded. One of the former was Alexander O. Williams, of New York, the second lieutenant, an officer of bravery and merit. The first and third lieutenants, Messrs. Worth and Johnson, were wounded, and thus, strange to say, Captain Reid was deprived of the services of all of his junior officers, and was forced to conduct the defence alone.

The next morning one of the British ships took advantage of the wind which sprang up, and, sailing in, commenced a heavy cannonade upon the privateer. Captain Reid replied for a few moments, but finding of course that the result of final capture was inevitable, owing to the fact that the other vessels displayed intentions of joining in, he decided to abandon the _General Armstrong_. He hove his guns and powder overboard, and, manning his boats, brought his crew ashore.

As soon as the _Armstrong_ was abandoned the British took possession of her, but, finding that she had been partially destroyed, out of revenge immediately set fire to her.

Dabney, in his letter to the Secretary of State, remarks as follows: “At nine o’clock in the evening (soon after the first attack) I called on the Governor, requesting his Excellency to protect the privateer, either by force or by such remonstrance to the commander of the squadron as would cause him to desist from any further attempt. The Governor, indignant at what had passed, but feeling himself totally unable, with the slender means he possessed, to resist such a force, took the part of remonstrating, which he did in forcible but respectful terms. His letter to Captain Lloyd had no other effect than to produce a menacing reply, insulting in the highest degree. Nothing can exceed the indignation of the public authorities, as well as of all ranks and descriptions of persons here, at this unprovoked enormity. Such was the rage of the British to destroy this vessel that no regard was paid to the safety of the town. Some of the inhabitants were wounded, and a number of houses were much damaged. The strongest representations on this subject are prepared by the Governor for his court.”

Now followed one of the strangest incidents that occurred during our last war with England. The senior commander, Captain Lloyd, threatened to send on shore an armed force to arrest the crew of the privateer, claiming that Englishmen were among them; but the _General Armstrong’s_ people fled to the mountains, and some of them took possession of an old church, preparing to defend themselves. Lloyd was fearful of losing more men if he tried to force this point; so, resorting to stratagem, he addressed an official letter to the Governor, stating that in the American crew were two men deserters from his own squadron, and who were thus guilty of high-treason. Under this claim a force was sent into the country by the Portuguese. The American seamen were arrested and brought to town, but the pretended deserters could not be found. All the seamen, however, had to pass under the humiliating examination of the British officers.

It was a fortunate thing that the erroneous statement of Captain Lloyd resulted in nothing more serious than this.

Reid protested against the actions of the commanders of the British squadron, and also against the government of Portugal for not protecting him, and it was on this protest that the wearisome waiting and lawsuits arose which became known as the “Armstrong claims,” and which were decided unfortunately against the Americans by Louis Napoleon, who was chosen arbiter. The “Long Tom” was presented to America by the Portuguese three years ago, and was exhibited at the World’s Fair in Chicago.

XII

THE LOSS OF THE “ESSEX”

[March 28th, 1814]

Late in the fall of 1813 a little American brig made her way up the coast with a cargo that had once been consigned to some British merchants in the West Indies.

The little brig had also, a few months previously, flown the British flag, but now she came drifting into the harbor of New York under a prize-master and his crew, for she had been taken in the Gulf of Mexico by one of the privateers that had outfitted from New York.

She brought the news that only a short time before her capture three smart English vessels had stopped at the port in which she had lain at anchor. Two of these three vessels were sent from England on a special mission; it was intended that they should round the Horn and cruise in company in the Pacific Ocean in search of the frigate _Essex_, that had spread terror from China to South America, and had chased the British shipping off the western ocean.

On the 27th of October, 1812, the _Essex_, under the command of David Porter, a fearless and persistent fighter, had set sail from the United States on a cruise to the southward, his orders being to join Bainbridge, his superior in the _Constitution_. The coast of Brazil was then the cruising-ground for a large force of English ships of war.

Porter, hearing that Bainbridge, after his action with the _Java_, had been forced to return to the United States, determined to make his way around the continent into the blue waters of the Pacific. He had made one important capture a few days before arriving at this last decision, having taken the _Nocton_, one of King George’s packets. On board of her were found eleven thousand pounds in specie.

After suffering severe hardships and meeting with many adverse winds and tides in rounding the Horn, Porter at last made his way along the harborless western coast, and arrived at Valparaiso on the 14th of March, 1813.

The _Essex’s_ crew had been on short allowance of water and small rations, but not a murmur of dissatisfaction had been raised throughout the voyage.

Having rested and victualled his ship, in a short time Porter hoisted his anchors, spread his sails, and sailed out to sea again.