Naval battles of the world

by Edward Shippen

ESSEX, PHŒBE AND CHERUB—VALPARAISO. MARCH 28TH, A. D. 1814.

This naval action, fought in the vicinity of Valparaiso, during our last war with Great Britain, is so remarkable for the circumstances attending it, and for the pertinacity of the American defence against superior force, that, although not a decisive battle, we have thought it right to insert it here.

Few Englishmen would now attempt to uphold the breach of neutrality committed by the two English ships upon the Essex, with her anchor down upon Chilian soil, and with the Spanish flag flying upon forts and batteries within sight. But, as it was not the first, so it is not the last time that England has infringed such laws, where she has been able to do so with impunity.

The United States frigate Essex, 32, sailed from the Capes of the Delaware October, 6th, 1812, upon a cruise, the object and destination of which were kept profoundly secret. Her destination was the Pacific—still called the “South Seas”—the navigation of which was still comparatively unknown; new islands being constantly discovered, the inhabitants of which had never seen any other men than their fellow islanders.

The object of the cruise was to destroy the “South-sea-men,” or whalers, of Great Britain; as well as the traders of the same nation, and thus inflict a heavy blow upon a sensitive part of an Englishman—his pocket.

The story of the cruise, by Captain Porter, the Commander of the Essex; with his passage to the Cape Verde Islands, the Coast of Brazil, around Cape Horn into the Pacific, and his operations there; together with the incidents of his stay at the Gallapagos and Washington groups, and his numerous captures, read like a romance of the sea. Yet it is all true; and the account is written in a circumstantial manner, with day and date, by a genuine and successful sailor.

This cruise is memorable for another reason—that Farragut, afterwards the greatest naval commander of his day, made his first cruise then, and witnessed his first naval action, while still a child, deporting himself with the coolness and gallantry which ever afterwards distinguished him.

David Porter, the Commander of the Essex, was born in Boston, in 1780, and was at this time thirty-three years of age—that glorious period of life which combines the fire and ability of youth with the experience and self-control derived from contact with the world. He entered the navy in 1798, and was a midshipman in the Constellation, in her action with the French frigate Insurgente, in February, 1799. He afterwards served on the West India station, as a Lieutenant, and had many conflicts, in the schooner Experiment, with the pirates and privateers which, at that time, and long after, infested those waters. In 1801 he was in the schooner Enterprize, and, off Malta, he captured, after an engagement of three hours, a Tripolitan cruiser of fourteen guns.

Soon after, in a boat expedition, at Tripoli, he was wounded for the second time; and in October, 1803, he was captured in the frigate Philadelphia, and remained a prisoner until the war closed.

He was made a captain in 1812, and appointed to the Essex.

After the war with England, Porter became a member of the Board of Navy Commissioners, but resigned that post to take command of an expedition against the West Indian pirates. He was court-martialed for exceeding his powers during this cruise, and sentenced to be suspended for six months.

Upon this he resigned his commission and entered the Mexican service as Naval Commander-in-chief. After serving there for some years he returned to the United States in 1829, and was made United States Consul General for the Barbary States. He was afterwards transferred to Constantinople as Chargé d’Affaires, and soon became Minister Resident.

He died in Constantinople, in March, 1843, and his remains were brought home in a man-of-war, and interred in the Naval Asylum grounds.

And now, to return to the Essex and her cruise. All Americans should read Porter’s account, which vies in interest with those of Anson or La Peyrouse, the difference being that their sole object was discovery, while Porter had principally in view the crippling of his enemy’s resources. His attack upon British interests in that part of the globe was entirely unexpected, and the unbounded rage of the English was excited when they learned, from prisoners sent in cartels, that such wholesale destruction was going on, and their trade being completely annihilated; and they hastened to take means to stop Porter’s career.

The latter, in the meantime, was living off the enemy, showing the greatest activity and resource, maintaining discipline under exceptional circumstances, and keeping his crew in good humor, with much tact and knowledge of sailor character.

In those days no docks or dockyards were to be found anywhere south of the line. Ports were few and not much frequented, for fear of blockade. Necessary food, sea-stores, rigging and material for repairs were, indeed, as far as Porter was concerned, only to be obtained by capture, and it required a man not only of pluck and nautical ability, but of resources in many other directions, to make such a cruise as he did. At the last, through no fault of his, he was overwhelmed in a harbor which should have afforded him security, and the career of the Essex brought to an end by a shameful violation of neutrality.

In the course of his cruise, Porter had seized and disarmed a Peruvian corvette, which had been preying upon American whalers, and then sent her away with a caution. He had also seized and disposed of, in different ways, English “South-sea-men,” aggregating 3369 tons, with 302 men and 107 guns; had provisioned his own crew and partly paid his men, from the prizes. One of the latter, the Atlantic, he had fitted out for cruising, under his first lieutenant, Mr. Downes, re-naming her Essex Junior. This ship mounted 20 guns and was efficient as a cruiser against merchantmen and whalers, but was not expected to stand an engagement.

Porter had sent Downes, with some prizes, to Valparaiso, and upon his return the latter reported that Commodore James Hillyar, an English officer of experience, ability and courage, had been sent out in the frigate Phœbe, of 36 guns, to look for the American frigate, her work having caused great consternation when the news of it reached England. The English sloops Raccoon and Cherub were also despatched to the Pacific, under Hillyar’s orders.

The Essex being in much need of repairs after her long and stirring cruise, Porter determined to put her in as good condition as his resources permitted, and then seek to bring the enemy to action, if he could meet him on anything like equal terms.

He, therefore, went to Nukahivah, or Madison’s Island, in the Washington group, which had been discovered by Captain Ingraham, of Boston. Here he caulked his ship and overhauled the rigging, made new water casks, and took from his prizes provisions and stores for four months.

On the 12th of December, 1813, he sailed for the coast of Chili, and arrived on January 12th, 1814. He could hear nothing of the British squadron reported to be looking for him. Some persons even supposed that they had been lost in trying to double Cape Horn. At this period Porter had completely broken up British navigation in the Pacific, as those vessels which had not been captured by him were laid up, and dared not venture out of port.

He had, in the meantime, afforded ample protection and assistance to our own ships. The English whale fishery was entirely destroyed, and now a squadron was coming out to look for him, involving very great expense. As has been said, he had lived upon the enemy, and had been obliged to draw no bills, but, on the contrary, had been able to advance pay to both officers and crew.

Considering how much they had been at sea, his crew was very healthy, and he had had but one case of scurvy, then the curse of cruising ships. Two officers only had been lost: the Surgeon, from disease, and a Lieutenant, killed in a duel; while eight seamen and marines had been lost from sickness and ordinary casualties.

Porter believed that Hillyar would try to keep his arrival in the Pacific secret, and seek him at Valparaiso, and he, therefore, cruised in that neighborhood, where he hoped also to capture some merchant vessels expected from England.

On the 3d of February the Essex anchored in Valparaiso bay, and exchanged the usual salutes and civilities with the Spanish authorities.

These appeared civil, and even cordial, and the governor duly returned Captain Porter’s visit.

The Essex Junior was directed to cruise off the port, for the twofold purpose of intercepting the enemy’s merchant vessels, and of informing Porter immediately of the appearance of any of their men-of-war. Then work began, to put the Essex in order, after which liberty was given to the crew. The people of Valparaiso showed great civility, and this was returned by an entertainment on board the Essex, in which the Essex Junior participated, but kept a sharp lookout at the same time. They danced until midnight, and the Essex Junior then went outside.

Next morning they had not had time to take down the awnings, flags and decorations spread for the party, when the Essex Junior signalized two English ships in sight. At this time half the Essex’ crew were on shore, on liberty. A gun was fired as a signal for their return, and the ship restored to her usual condition as soon as possible. Porter went out in the Essex Junior to reconnoitre, and found that both the English vessels appeared to be frigates; returning at once, he anchored the tender near the Essex, and prepared for mutual defence. When he returned to his own ship, at about 7.30 A.M., he had the gratification of not only finding the ship prepared for action, but every man on board. He felt great doubts about the English respecting the neutrality of the port, but resolved to act upon the defensive entirely.

At 8 A. M. the two English ships, a frigate and sloop of war, came into the harbor. The frigate, which proved to be the Phœbe, ranged alongside the Essex, within a few yards, and between her and the Essex Junior. The Phœbe was seen to be all ready for action.

Captain Hillyar hailed, and politely inquired after Captain Porter’s health, and the usual compliments were exchanged between them.

Captains Hillyar and Porter had been acquainted in the Mediterranean. Among the American officers at that time on the station, no British officer was so much liked as Hillyar, and his family was visited, at Gibraltar, by Porter and many others. On one occasion Hillyar’s family had gone, as passengers, with Commodore Rodgers, from Malta to Gibraltar. The relations between the two Captains, thus brought face to face, with tompions out and matches lighted, were rather peculiar.

Finding the Phœbe approaching nearer the Essex than either prudence or the neutrality of the port would permit, Porter called to Hillyar that the Essex was all ready for action, and that he should act on the defensive.

Hillyar replied, in an off-hand way, “Oh, I have no intention of getting on board of you.”

Porter replied that if he did fall on board of him there would be much blood shed. Hillyar merely called out again that he had no intention of falling on board the Essex. Porter, finding that he was luffing up so much as to cause his ship to be taken aback, and her jib-boom coming over the Essex’ forecastle, called, “All hands to board the enemy;” directing them, if the ships touched, to spring on board the Phœbe. The latter vessel was now in a precarious condition, for not a gun of hers could be brought to bear upon either of the American vessels, while her bow was exposed to the raking fire of one, and her stern to that of the other. The Phœbe’s consort, the Cherub, of 28 guns, was too far off to leeward to afford any assistance. The Phœbe had been informed, by a boat which had pulled out from an English merchant ship, that the Essex was in great confusion, from the entertainment of the night before, and that half her crew were on shore, on liberty.

Great was the surprise of the Englishmen, then, when they saw a full crew ready to board them, and kedge-anchors triced up to the yard-arms, ready to drop and grapple them.

Captain Hillyar at once sang out that he had no intention of boarding; that it was an accident that his ship was taken aback, and that he was sorry to be put in an equivocal situation, and had no hostile intention.

The Phœbe was, at this moment, entirely at the mercy of the Essex; and Porter could have destroyed her. The temptation was great to do so. Porter would have been justified, upon the plea of self-defence; but Captain Hillyar’s assurances disarmed him, and Porter at once hailed the Essex Junior, and ordered Captain Downes not to begin firing without orders. Captain Hillyar was then allowed to extricate his ship from her disagreeable position; the Phœbe separating from the Essex, and drifting by the American vessels, constantly exposed to their raking fire, to finally anchor on the east side of the harbor, just within shot of the Essex’ 18-pounders, but beyond the reach of her carronades. The Cherub anchored quite close upon the port bow of the Essex; whereupon Porter ordered the Essex Junior to so place herself that the Cherub would be between two fires; an arrangement which seems to have excited the ineffectual anger of Captain Tucker, the Commander of the smaller English vessel.

Porter tells us that, on going on shore, great astonishment was expressed by the officials and people of Valparaiso, that he had not taken advantage of the opportunity, and destroyed his enemy. Porter replied that he respected the neutrality of the port, and should continue to do so. He had reason, not very long after, to regret his moderation.

When on shore in Valparaiso Porter generally staid at Senor Blanco’s, and the two British Captains paid him a visit there, on the day after their arrival. This visit was returned, and a rather friendly intercourse was soon established, not only between the Commanders, but the officers of the respective ships, whenever they met on shore—their conduct being such that no one could have supposed that they belonged to nations at war with each other.

At the first meeting on shore, Porter told Hillyar that it was important to know whether he (Hillyar) intended to respect the neutrality of the port. Hillyar replied, very emphatically, “You have paid so much respect to the neutrality of the port that I feel myself bound in honor to respect it.”

Porter rejoined that his assurance was sufficient, and that he should henceforth feel at his ease, and not always prepared for action.

The English frigate had hoisted a flag (motto flags were then the fashion), bearing the words, “God and country; British sailors’ best rights; traitors offend both.” Porter asked Hillyar what the flag meant, and was informed that it was a reply to Porter’s motto, “Free trade and sailors’ rights,” which was particularly offensive to the British navy; and that he should always hoist it when Porter hoisted his. The next time the English motto was hoisted Porter replied with a flag having, “God, our Country, and Liberty—tyrants offend them,” and each ship gave three cheers for their flag.

In spite of all this, personal intercourse and apparent good feeling continued between the two Captains. They discussed the objects of the British squadron; their long hunt for Porter, and the present status.

This intercourse between public enemies was, in fact, a very curious thing.

Hillyar asked Porter what he intended to do with his prizes; when he was going to sea; and other pertinent and delicate questions of a like nature.

Porter told him that whenever he sent away the Cherub the Essex would go to sea, and that his sailing day would be fixed by Captain Hillyar. Once met, Porter said he would test the force of the two ships, but as the Essex was smaller than the Phœbe, he would not be justified to his country in losing his ship, and so would not challenge him. If, however, the Captain of the Phœbe would send away the Cherub and then challenge the Essex, he (Porter) would be willing to fight. No doubt all this was discussed over a cigar and a glass of wine, but this we can only conjecture.

Hillyar said that success in naval actions depended upon so many accidents, and that the loss of a spar or mast sometimes determined the fate of the day, so he should trust to chance to bring the two ships together; that he was not disposed to yield the advantage of superior force, and should blockade Porter until other English men-of-war arrived, and at all events prevent him from doing further mischief to British commerce.

Porter told Hillyar that his prizes were only an encumbrance to him under the circumstances, and that some time he should take them out to sea and destroy them. To this Hillyar rejoined that he dare not do so with him in sight. Porter merely answered, “We shall see.”

As Hillyar was determined to lose none of the advantage of superior force, and it was known that other ships were soon coming to join him, Porter endeavored still to provoke the English Commodore to challenge him to a single contest.

The Cherub lying near the Essex, the crews sang original songs directed at each other. It is said that the Yankee songs had the most point, which is likely, for the average English nautical mind is not very brilliant. The officers encouraged this amusement, which took place in the fine, calm first watches, to the frequent annoyance of the English and the great amusement of neutrals. Captain Hillyar requested Porter to put a stop to it, but the latter refused to do so unless the Cherub ceased first.

At length the quasi-friendly relations between the Commanders became very much “strained,” as the diplomatists say, by the harboring of an escaped prisoner from the Essex on board the Cherub. This led to an exchange of strongly-worded letters. Porter and Hillyar continued to meet on shore quite frequently, and at this time Porter proposed an exchange of prisoners by sending one of the prizes to England as a cartel, to bring thence to the United States an equal number. This proposition came to nothing, but Porter liberated his English prisoners on condition that they should not serve until exchanged; and Hillyar undertook to write to England and have as many Americans liberated.

In the meantime the Essex Junior had gone outside to reconnoitre a strange sail, and was very nearly cut off by the English vessels both going out, but the Essex manned her boats, sent them out and towed her in in safety.

The English ships then continued to cruise outside, and Porter, to try his rate of sailing with them, chose an opportunity, when they were well to leeward, to get under way and let them chase him. He found he could outsail them both, and could escape at almost any time, but he was led to remain in Valparaiso by the hope of bringing the Phœbe to single action. This resolution, though chivalric, was not exactly prudent.

One day Porter towed the ship Hector, a prize, to sea. The two British ships were then far in the offing, and Porter had the prize set on fire. He then returned to his anchorage, unmolested, although the English made every exertion to come up with him. This insult seemed to have the desired effect, and on the afternoon of the 22d of February, 1814, the Cherub was seen to be about three miles to leeward of the harbor, while the Phœbe was standing in alone. At 5 P.M. she hove about, a short distance from the Essex, with head off shore, shortened sail, fired a gun to windward (a nautical challenge), and hoisted her motto flag.

Porter instantly accepted the challenge, hoisted his motto, fired a gun and got under way.

The Phœbe made sail and stood off shore, while Porter followed, under all sail. He was nearing the English frigate fast, when to his astonishment, she bore off before the wind, and ran down for her consort. Porter fired two shots across her fore-foot, but they did not bring her to, and the Essex hauled her wind and returned to port, where she anchored before the two British vessels could reach her.

Porter did not spare some caustic remarks upon this affair, and they reached Hillyar, through British residents on shore.

Defiant letters were interchanged between the ships’ companies. Porter wrote to Hillyar, and Hillyar to Porter, and, as was natural, angry feelings increased.

About the middle of March the First Lieutenant of the Phœbe (who was afterwards killed in the action) came on board the Essex, under a flag of truce, with a message from Captain Hillyar.

Presuming it was a challenge, Porter required the presence of some of his officers, and then asked the English officer the purport of his message.

The Englishman said that Captain Hillyar had heard that Captain Porter had publicly stated that Hillyar had acted in a cowardly manner, by running away from the Essex after challenging her, but that he could not believe the report, and had sent his first Lieutenant to ascertain the truth.

Porter at once told him that he had said so, and still thought so.

The English Lieutenant then stated that he was instructed to tell Captain Porter that the hoisting the flag and firing the gun, by the Phœbe, was not intended as a challenge, but as a signal to her consort.

Porter replied that Captain Hillyar had informed him that the flag was intended for the Essex, and there “was not a man, woman nor child in Valparaiso who did not think it a challenge.” The Lieutenant repeated that Captain Hillyar desired him to assure Captain Porter that it was not intended for a challenge.

Porter said he was bound to believe Captain Hillyar, if he said so; but that he should always consider such a proceeding a challenge: and that, whenever he chose to send away the Cherub, and repeat the manœuvre, he should act as he had before done. The Lieutenant once more assured Porter that it was not a challenge, and that Captain Hillyar did not approve of challenges, as he was a religious man.

Such a state of things as we have been describing could not, of course, last very long.

Exasperation was fast taking the place of self-control, on both sides; and as more British vessels were expected, it was necessary for Porter to take some decided step. A crisis was evidently approaching.

The relative strength of the two nations, in Valparaiso, was then as follows:—

The Phœbe carried thirty long eighteens; sixteen thirty-two pound carronades; one howitzer, and six three-pounders in the tops; in all, fifty-three guns. Her crew consisted of three hundred and twenty men.

The Cherub carried eighteen thirty-two pound carronades; eight twenty-fours; two long nines; and had a crew of one hundred and eighty men.

On the American side, the Essex mounted forty-six guns. Forty of these were thirty-two pound carronades, and six were long twelves. Her crew, reduced by those in prizes, was only two hundred and fifty-five men.

The Essex Junior, built for whaling, was principally a store-ship, or tender. She mounted twenty guns, taken from captured whalers. Ten of these were eighteen-pound carronades, and ten were short sixes. She had a crew of sixty men.

For six weeks the English ships had been mostly under way, and cruising off the port; and Porter was finally induced to put to sea by the certain intelligence that the Tagus, 38, and two other English frigates, were on their way to the Pacific. The Raccoon was also expected; which sloop had been sent up to the northwest Coast of America for the purpose of destroying the American Fur Company’s establishment, on the Columbia river.

Having agreed upon a rendezvous where he could meet the Essex Junior, Porter determined to allow the two British vessels to chase him off the coast, and thereby to permit his tender to escape.

On March 28th the wind came out fresh from the southward, and the Essex parted one of her cables, and dragged the other anchor directly out to sea; so that it was necessary to get sail on the ship instantly. The enemy were, at the time, close in with the western point of the bay; but when Porter had made sail, and opened them, he saw a chance of passing them to windward; and, taking in top-gallant-sails, which had been set over single-reefed top-sails, he braced up for that purpose.

Unfortunately, as the Essex came up with the point, and was passing it, it happened (as it often does in such localities) that a heavy squall struck the ship, and carried away her main-top-mast; and all the men aloft, furling the top-gallant-sail, were lost.

Admiral Farragut said, in after years, that the reason why they lost the main-top-mast was, that the yard jammed, and would not come down when the halliards were let go—the top-gallant-sail being clewed down.

The loss of this spar was most disastrous. Both the English ships at once gave chase, and the crippled Essex endeavored to regain the port. Finding he could not reach the usual anchorage, Porter ran into a small bay, about three-quarters of a mile to leeward of a small Chilian battery, on the east side of the harbor, and anchored within pistol-shot of the shore; intent upon repairing damages as soon as possible. The enemy’s vessels continued to approach, and showed every intention of attacking him, regardless of the fact that the Essex was anchored close to neutral shores. They bore down with caution, however, hoisting a number of motto flags and jacks.

Porter went to quarters and got his ship clear of the wreck and ready for action as soon as possible, but he had not time to get a spring upon his cable, for at about 4 P. M. the attack was made, the Phœbe assuming a position under the Essex’ stern, and the Cherub one on her starboard bow. Their fire was promptly returned, and the Cherub soon found her position a hot one, and she bore up to join the Phœbe under the Essex’ stern, whence they delivered a severe raking fire. The Essex could not get her broadside to bear, but fought three long twelve-pounders out of the stern ports, which were worked with such bravery, skill and rapidity, that in half an hour both English ships were obliged to draw off to repair damages.

During the firing, the Essex succeeded, by dint of great exertion, in getting a spring upon the cable no less than three times, but the fire of the enemy was so heavy that it was each time shot away before her broadside could be brought to bear.

The Essex was already much damaged and had a good many killed and wounded, but the ship’s company were in good spirits, and though they were caught at such a disadvantage, resolved to resist to the last.

The gaff, with the motto flag and ensign, had been shot away, but “Free Trade and Sailor’s Rights” continued to fly at the fore. The ensign was now made fast in the main rigging, and several jacks displayed at different points. The enemy soon repaired damages and were ready to renew the attack, and both his ships now placed themselves on the Essex’ starboard quarter, out of the reach of her broadside carronades, and where her stern guns would not bear. They then opened and kept up a galling fire, which the Essex could not return at all, and there was no chance for the American ship, unless she could get underway and assail in turn. The Essex’ top-sail sheets and halliards were all shot away, as well as the jib and stay-sail halliards. Indeed, the only rope of that kind not cut was the flying-jib halliards. This, the only available sail, was set, the cable cut, and Porter steered down upon the English vessels, intending to lay the Phœbe aboard. The firing on both sides was now incessant. Porter let fall his fore-top-sail and fore-sail, but the want of tacks and sheets rendered them almost useless. Yet he approached his enemy slowly, and although the decks were thickly strewn with dead, and the cockpit filled with wounded, and although the ship had been several times on fire and was almost a wreck, they still had some hopes, for the Cherub was just then compelled to haul off. This ship did not come into close action again, although she kept up a distant fire from her long guns. The disabled state of the Essex enabled the Phœbe, by edging off, to choose her own distance, and use her long guns, with which she kept up a tremendous fire, which mowed down the Essex’ crew in a fearful way. Farragut, in his recollections, praises the Surgeons for their coolness and dexterity, although they had, at this time, patients killed under their hands.

Many of the American guns had been rendered useless, and many had their entire crews destroyed by this fire.

The remaining guns were again manned, however, and one gun was three times re-manned—fifteen people having been killed at that one piece during the action. The captain of this same gun alone escaped, with a slight scratch.

Finding that the enemy had it in his power to choose his distance, and thus destroy him at leisure, and as the wind at the moment favored, Porter determined to run his ship on shore, land his men, and destroy her. When he was within musket-shot of the beach the wind suddenly shifted right off shore, and paid the Essex off, with her head towards the Phœbe; exposing her again to a deadly raking fire.

The Essex was by this time totally unmanageable, yet as her head was towards the enemy, and the latter was to leeward, Porter still had a faint hope that he might be able to board her.

Just then Lieutenant Downes, the Commander of the Essex Junior, thinking that the Essex would soon be taken, pulled out in his boat, and came on board to receive Porter’s orders. In the wretched condition of the ship Downes could be of no use, and finding that the enemy had put his helm up and ran off, so that he could not board her, Porter directed Downes to return to his own ship, prepare for her defence, and if necessary, destroy her. Downes, therefore, took several of the wounded, left three of his own crew, and rejoined the Essex Junior.

The slaughter on board the Essex was now horrible; and the enemy continued to rake her, while she could not bring a gun to bear.

Porter then bent a hawser to his sheet-anchor, and cut the anchor away, thus bringing her head round.

Her broadside was then again brought to bear, and as the Phœbe was much crippled, and unable to hold her own, it is probable he would have drifted out of gunshot before he discovered that the Essex had anchored again, had not the hawser unfortunately parted. The case of the Essex now seemed hopeless. Several fires had been extinguished during the engagement; but now fire made headway both forward and aft; and flames, supposed to come from near the magazine, were shooting up the hatchways. At this juncture they were about three-quarters of a mile from the shore, and there was a bare chance for those of the crew who could swim well to reach the land. The boats were all destroyed by the enemy’s shot, and the fire was now burning fiercely, close to the after magazine.

Orders were given for those who could swim to jump overboard and make for the shore. Many did so, some with clothes already on fire. Some reached the beach, some were captured by the enemy’s boats, and some perished. Most of the surviving officers and crew preferred to share, with the Captain, the fate of the ship. These were now wholly employed in endeavors to extinguish the flames; and in this they finally succeeded.

They then once more manned the guns, and renewed the engagement; but the crew were now so weakened that all saw the impossibility of further resistance, and entreated Captain Porter to surrender, as the ship was entirely disabled, and such a step was necessary, to save the wounded. Porter sent for the division officers, to consult them; but found only Lieutenant McKnight remaining. He confirmed the reports of the bad condition of the ship, below, and the disabled state of the guns, and their crews. Lieutenant Wilmer had been knocked overboard by a splinter, while getting the sheet-anchor overboard, and had been drowned, after fighting gallantly through the whole action. Acting Lieutenant Cowell had lost a leg. The Sailing Master, Mr. Barnewell, was badly wounded. Acting Lieutenant Odenheimer had been knocked overboard, but managed to sustain himself upon some floating wreck, not succeeding, however, in regaining the ship until after her surrender. The cockpit, steerage, wardroom, and berth-deck were full of wounded; some of whom were killed while the Surgeons were operating upon them. More than this, it was evident that unless something was done the ship must soon sink, with all on board, from the numerous shot-holes below the water line.

The Carpenter reported that all his men were either killed or wounded; and he himself had narrowly escaped drowning, as the slings in which he was suspended, while overboard, stopping shot-holes, had been shot away. It was impossible to reach the enemy with the carronades; while they, from the smoothness of the water, and immunity from shot, were enabled to use their long guns upon the Essex, as upon a target.

It is said that, at this time, Lieutenant Ingram, of the Phœbe, wanted Captain Hillyar to bear down and board the Essex—saying it was deliberate murder to lie off and fire in this way. This gallant English officer was killed, among the last, that day.

The American ship continued to be hulled at every shot, and was cut up in a way seldom witnessed. In a word, there was no hope of saving her, and at half-past six in the evening Porter was forced to strike his colors.

Only seventy-five officers and men remained fit for duty; and many of these were wounded, and some afterwards died.

In spite of the colors being down, the enemy continued his deliberate fire, and the survivors continued to fall. Porter ordered an opposite gun to be fired, to intimate his surrender, but the fire continued, and several more men fell.

Porter now believed that they intended to show no quarter; and he was upon the point of hoisting his flag again, when, about ten minutes after the colors had been struck, the enemy ceased firing.

It is only fair to suppose that the smoke prevented them from seeing that the flag was down.

Porter, and his officers and crew, had shown unparalleled bravery, skill, zeal, and patriotism; and nothing but the absolute requirements of humanity caused their surrender—to save the helpless wounded. Had they been disposed of, there is little doubt they would have let the Essex sink under them, and have taken the chance of gaining the shore.

The action had been fought almost entirely with the great guns; musketry being only used during the first half hour. During most of the time the Essex could only use her six long twelves; and it is fair to say that every one did his whole duty. Farragut, then a mere child, was mentioned, among others, for gallantry, but was “too young to recommend for promotion.”

The Essex’ ship’s company were unfortunate, but not disgraced. Out of them fifty-eight were killed, or died subsequently of wounds; thirty-nine were severely wounded; twenty-seven were slightly wounded; and thirty-one were missing—mostly drowned. Lieutenant Cowell, whose leg was shattered, insisted upon waiting his turn, with the other wounded, for amputation, and thereby lost his life.

The enemy’s loss, which was comparatively light, from the circumstances under which the battle was fought, included the First Lieutenant of the Phœbe, killed, and Captain Tucker, of the Cherub, severely wounded. Both the Essex and the Phœbe were in a sinking state, and were with difficulty kept afloat until morning, when they anchored in the port of Valparaiso.

The Essex was afterwards repaired, and sent to England, when she was added to the British navy. The Phœbe had eighteen shot-holes through her, below the water line, and nothing saved both ships but the fact that the water was very smooth.

During the action the American Consul General, Mr. Poinsett, demanded from the Governor of Valparaiso that his batteries should protect the Essex.

This was refused; but he was promised that, if she fought her way in to the usual anchorage, he would send to the British Commander, and request him to desist, but would not use force under any circumstances. This, and other evidences of bias in favor of the British were so strong, that Mr. Poinsett left the country, having no hope that any claim for the restoration of the ship would be entertained.

The change of feeling in the authorities of Valparaiso, Porter attributed to a revolution, which had lately put new people into power; beside the fact that the South American nations always favored the strongest force.

Soon after their capture Captain Hillyar allowed the prisoners to proceed to the United States in the Essex Junior, which ship was disarmed, and furnished with a passport, to prevent recapture.

Porter, in his remarks upon the battle, says that while he could never be reconciled to Hillyar’s course in attacking the Essex in neutral waters, he must do the English Captain the justice to say that, after the capture he did all he could to alleviate the misery of the wounded and prisoners. Their private property was pilfered, to be sure, but it was against Hillyar’s positive orders. Porter also very truly remarks that the Essex would almost certainly have escaped to sea, but for the accident to her mast, and that it was a wonderful thing that the two ships should not have captured or destroyed her in a much shorter time.

The English frigate Tagus arrived a few days after the battle. She, with other English ships, had been sent to look for Porter in the China Seas, Timor and Australia. Porter estimated the cost to the English government of the capture of the Essex as, at least, $6,000,000.

We now pass to the singular termination of the voyage of the Essex Junior, which ship left Valparaiso with the paroled American prisoners. She made a remarkably good passage of 73 days, to Sandy Hook, the prisoners hoping to be in time to be exchanged, fit out a vessel, and intercept the prize on her passage to England. But off Sandy Hook they fell in with the British ship Saturn, the Captain of which at first passed them, but two hours after boarded them again, and revoked the pass. As Captain Hillyar’s pass was thus violated, Captain Porter revoked his parole, and declared himself the Saturn’s prisoner. The Essex Junior was directed to remain all night under the Saturn’s guns. The next morning the ships were some thirty miles off Long Island, within musket-shot of each other, and in a dense fog. Porter determined to escape. A boat was lowered and manned, and Porter entered it, leaving with Lieutenant Downes a message for Captain Nash, of the Saturn, to the effect that he was “satisfied that British officers were destitute of honor, and regardless of the honor of each other. That he was armed and intended to defend himself against boats sent out after him.” He got nearly a gunshot off, in the fog, before it was discovered that he had left, and when he was pursued he eluded the enemy’s boats and landed at Babylon, Long Island. The English asserted breach of parole in his case, but the Government took up the matter, and it was finally satisfactorily arranged.

In connection with the homeward passage of the Essex Junior, we must not omit to mention the sad fate of Lieutenant Stephen Decatur McKnight, the only Lieutenant of the Essex who escaped unhurt from the sanguinary engagement with the Phœbe and Cherub.

Lieutenant McKnight and Midshipman Lyman had remained behind, and went to Rio Janeiro in the Phœbe, to make the affidavits necessary to condemn the Essex as a prize. They were then allowed the option of going to England in the Phœbe, or to be allowed to go to Europe in a merchant vessel, and thence home, on parole. They preferred the latter, and sailed from Rio in a Swedish brig called the Adonis. On the passage they met, at sea, the United States ship Wasp, Captain Blakely, on a cruise, and left the Adonis and joined the Wasp, in mid-ocean. The Wasp was never seen again after the Adonis left her.

It may further be of interest to have Admiral Farragut’s recollections of this battle, as well as his comments thereon, when ripe in years and experience.

Farragut was only thirteen years old at the time of the battle; but, as we have seen, he was commended for his coolness and conduct.

He said that, when the English ships first came in, and while the Essex and Phœbe were close together, and the Captains talking to each other, a young fellow stationed at a gun-deck gun of the Essex, who had just come off from liberty, rather tipsy, fancied he saw a man on board the Phœbe grinning at him.

“My fine fellow,” said he, “I’ll soon stop your making faces!” and was about to fire his gun, when Lieutenant McKnight saw him, and knocked him over. Farragut remarks that, if this gun had been fired, the battle would then have taken place, under such circumstances that the Phœbe would most likely have been taken.

He also mentions (which Captain Porter does not), that one night, while the English ships were outside, the Americans manned all boats, to board and capture them; but finding them prepared, and their men lying at their quarters, they returned.

In his later years the gallant Admiral gave his opinion as follows: “In the first place, I consider our original and greatest error was in attempting to regain the original anchorage, as, being of very fine sailing qualities, the Essex should have borne up and run before the wind. If we had come in contact with the Phœbe, we could have boarded her. If she avoided us—having all her masts, and ability to manœuvre—then we could have taken her fire, and passed on, leaving both vessels behind, until we could have replaced our topmast. By this time they would have separated, or it would have been no chase, as the Cherub was a dull sailer.

“Secondly. When it was apparent to everybody that we had no chance of success, under the circumstances, the ship should have been run on shore, throwing her broadside to the beach, to prevent raking; fought as long as was consistent with humanity, and then set on fire. But, having determined upon anchoring, we should have bent a spring on the ring of the anchor, instead of upon the cable, where it was exposed, and could be shot away as fast as it could be put on. This mode of proceeding would have given us, in my opinion, a better opportunity of injuring our opponents.” Farragut further says, “It has been quite common to blame Captain Hillyar for his conduct in this affair; but when we come to consider the characteristics of the two Commanders, we may be inclined to judge more leniently; although Porter’s complaints in the matter will excite no surprise. Porter was then about thirty-one years of age, and the ‘pink of chivalry,’ and of an ardent and impetuous temperament; while Hillyar was a cool and calculating man, of about fifty; and he himself said, ‘had gained his reputation by several single-ship combats; and only expected to retain it on the present occasion by implicit obedience to his orders, viz: to capture the Essex with the least possible risk to his vessel and crew;’ and as he had a superior force, he had determined not to leave anything to chance, believing any other course would call down on him the disapprobation of his government.”

Among other reminiscences by Farragut, we find that when Lieutenant Ingram visited the Essex, under a flag of truce, he was shown all over her, and made a very good impression by his frank and manly bearing. He said the happiest moment of his life would be to take her to England should she be captured in equal combat. Porter replied that, should such an event occur, he knew no British officer to whom he would more readily yield the honor. Poor Ingram was killed by a splinter, and the American officers who survived attended his funeral, in Valparaiso.

“During the action,” says Admiral Farragut, in his later years, “I was, like ‘Paddy in the Catharpins,’ a man on occasions. I performed the duties of Captain’s aid, quarter-gunner, powder-boy, and, in fact, did everything that was required of me. I shall never forget the horrible impression made upon me at the sight of the first man I had ever seen killed. He was a boatswain’s mate, and was fearfully mutilated. It staggered and sickened me at first, but they soon began to fall around me so fast that it all appeared like a dream, and produced no effect upon my nerves. I can remember well, while I was standing near the Captain, just abaft the main-mast, a shot came through the water-ways and glanced upward, killing four men who were standing by the side of a gun, taking the last one in the head, and scattering his brains over both of us. But this awful sight did not affect me half as much as the death of the first poor fellow. I neither thought of nor noticed anything but the working of the guns.”

During the action Midshipman Farragut was knocked down a ladder by the body of a heavy man, who was killed. Farragut was only bruised.

The Admiral also tells an amusing story of a fight he had, on board the English frigate, after the action, when they were taken on board, prisoners. He saw an English midshipman who had captured a pet pig, called Murphy, belonging to him, and he stoutly claimed it. The English midshipman refused to surrender it, but his older messmates told Farragut that if he licked the English midshipman he should have his pig. A ring was formed, and, encouraged by shouts, of “Go it! my little Yankee! if you can thrash Shorty you shall have your pig!” he went in and licked the Englishman handsomely.