CHAPTER XI.
Badly as the United States fared in the campaign of 1813, their situation would have been easy had they not suffered under the annoyances of a blockade continually becoming more stringent. The doctrine that coasts could be blockaded was enforced against America with an energy that fell little short of demonstration. The summer was well advanced before the whole naval force to be used for the purpose could be posted at the proper stations. Not until May 26 did Admiral Warren issue at Bermuda his proclamation of “a strict and rigorous blockade of the ports and harbors of New York, Charleston, Port Royal, Savannah, and of the river Mississippi,” which completed the blockade of the coast, leaving only the ports of New England open to neutrals. From that time nothing entered or left the blockaded coast except swift privateers, or occasional fast-sailing vessels which risked capture in the attempt. Toward the close of the year Admiral Warren extended his blockade eastward. Notice of the extension was given at Halifax November 16, and by the blockading squadron off New London December 2, thus closing Long Island Sound to all vessels of every description.[381]
The pressure of the blockade was immediately felt. In August[382] superfine flour sold at Boston for $11.87 a barrel, at Baltimore for $6.00, and at Richmond for $4.50. Upland cotton sold at Boston for twenty cents a pound; at Charleston for nine cents. Rice sold at Philadelphia for $12.00 a hundred weight; in Charleston and Savannah for $3.00. Sugar sold in Boston for $18.75 a hundred weight; in Baltimore for $26.50. Already the American staples were unsalable at the places of their production. No rate of profit could cause cotton, rice, or wheat to be brought by sea from Charleston or Norfolk to Boston. Soon speculation began. The price of imported articles rose to extravagant points. At the end of the year coffee sold for thirty-eight cents a pound, after selling for twenty-one cents in August. Tea which could be bought for $1.70 per pound in August, sold for three and four dollars in December. Sugar which was quoted at nine dollars a hundred weight in New Orleans, and in August sold for twenty-one or twenty-two dollars in New York and Philadelphia, stood at forty dollars in December.
More sweeping in its effects on exports than on imports, the blockade rapidly reduced the means of the people. After the summer of 1813, Georgia alone, owing to its contiguity with Florida, succeeded in continuing to send out cotton. The exports of New York, which exceeded $12,250,000 in 1811, fell to $209,000 for the year ending in 1814. The domestic exports of Virginia diminished in four years from $4,800,000 to $3,000,000 for 1812, $1,819,000 for 1813, and $17,581 for the year ending Sept. 30, 1814. At the close of 1813 exports, except from Georgia and New England, ceased.[383]
On the revenue the blockade acted with equal effect. Owing to the increase of duties and to open ports, the New England States rather increased than diminished their customs receipts. Until the summer of 1813, when the blockade began in earnest, New York showed the same result; but after that time the receipts fell, until they averaged less than $50,000 a month instead of $500,000, which would have been a normal average if peace had been preserved. Philadelphia suffered sooner. In 1810 the State of Pennsylvania contributed more than $200,000 a month to the Treasury; in 1813 it contributed about $25,000 a month. Maryland, where was collected in 1812 no less than $1,780,000 of net revenue, paid only $182,000 in 1813, and showed an actual excess of expenditures in 1814. After the summer, the total net revenue collected in every port of the United States outside of New England did not exceed $150,000 a month, or at the rate of $1,800,000 a year.[384]
No ordinary operations of war could affect the United States so severely as this inexorable blockade. Every citizen felt it in every action of his life. The farmer grew crops which he could not sell, while he paid tenfold prices for every necessity. While the country was bursting with wealth, it was ruined. The blockade was but a part of the evil. The whole coast was systematically swept of the means of industry. Especially the Virginians and Marylanders felt the heavy hand of England as it was felt nowhere else except on the Niagara River. A large British squadron occupied Chesapeake Bay, and converted it into a British naval station. After the month of February, 1813, the coasts of Virginia and Maryland enjoyed not a moment’s repose. Considering the immense naval power wielded by England, the Americans were fortunate that their chief losses were confined to the farm-yards and poultry of a few islands in Chesapeake Bay, but the constant annoyance and terror were not the less painful to the people who apprehended attack.
Fortunately the British naval officers showed little disposition to distinguish themselves, and their huge line-of-battle ships were not adapted to river service. The squadron under the general command of Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren seemed contented for the most part to close the bay to commerce. The only officer in the fleet who proved the energy and capacity to use a part of the great force lying idle at Lynnhaven Bay was Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, whose efficiency was attested by the execration in which his name was held for fifty years in the United States. His duties were not of a nature to make him popular, and he was an admiral of the old school, whose boisterous energy seemed to take needless pleasure in the work.
Early in April, 1813, Admiral Warren sent Cockburn with a light flotilla to the head of Chesapeake Bay to destroy everything that could serve a warlike purpose, and to interrupt, as far as possible, communication along the shore.[385] The squadron consisted of only one light frigate, the “Maidstone,” thirty-six guns; two brigs, the “Fantome” and “Mohawk;” and three or four prize schooners, with four or five hundred seamen, marines, and soldiers. With this petty force Cockburn stationed himself at the mouth of the Susquehanna River, and soon threw Maryland into paroxysms of alarm and anger. Taking possession of the islands in his neighborhood, he obtained supplies of fresh food for the whole British force in Chesapeake Bay. He then scoured every creek and inlet above his anchorage. He first moved into the Elk River, and sent his boats, April 28, with one hundred and fifty marines, to Frenchtown,—a village of a dozen buildings, which had acquired a certain importance for the traffic between Baltimore and Philadelphia since the stoppage of transit by sea. Without losing a man, the expedition drove away the few Americans who made a show of resistance, and burned whatever property was found, “consisting of much flour, a large quantity of army clothing, of saddles, bridles, and other equipments for cavalry, etc., together with various articles of merchandise,” besides five vessels lying near the place.[386]
Cockburn next sent the same force to destroy a battery lately erected at Havre de Grace. The attack was made on the morning of May 3, and like the attack on Frenchtown, met with only resistance enough to offer an excuse for pillage. The militia took refuge in the woods; Cockburn’s troops destroyed or carried away the arms and cannon, and set fire to the town of some sixty houses, “to cause the proprietors (who had deserted them and formed part of the militia who had fled to the woods) to understand and feel what they were liable to bring upon themselves by building batteries and acting toward us with so much useless rancor.”[387] While engaged in this work Cockburn was told that an extensive cannon-foundry existed about four miles up the Susquehanna River; and he immediately started for it in his boats. He met no resistance, and destroyed the foundry with several small vessels. His handful of men passed the day undisturbed on the banks of the Susquehanna, capturing fifty-one cannon, mostly heavy pieces, with one hundred and thirty stand of small arms. The party then returned to their ships, “where we arrived at ten o’clock, after being twenty-two hours in constant exertion, without nourishment of any kind; and I have much pleasure in being able to add that, excepting Lieutenant Westphall’s wound, we have not suffered any casualty whatever.”
These expeditions cleared every inlet in the Upper Chesapeake except the Sassafras River on the eastern shore. During the night of May 5 Cockburn sent his boats into the Sassafras. Militia in considerable numbers assembled on both banks and opened a fire which Cockburn described as “most heavy,” aided by one long gun. Cockburn landed, dispersed the militia, and destroyed Fredericktown and Georgetown, with the vessels and stores he found there. This expedition cost him five men wounded, one severely. The next day, May 6, he reported to Admiral Warren,—
“I had a deputation from Charleston in the Northeast River to assure me that that place is considered by them at your mercy, and that neither guns nor militia-men shall be suffered there; and as I am assured that all the places in the upper part of Chesapeake Bay have adopted similar resolutions, and as there is now neither public property, vessels, nor warlike stores remaining in this neighborhood, I propose returning to you with the light squadron to-morrow morning.”
Thus in the course of a week, and without loss of life on either side, Cockburn with a few boats and one hundred and fifty men terrorized the shores of the Upper Chesapeake, and by his loud talk and random threats threw even Baltimore into a panic, causing every one to suspend other pursuits in order to garrison the city against an imaginary attack. The people, harassed by this warfare, remembered with extreme bitterness the marauding of Cockburn and his sailors; but where he met no resistance he paid in part for what private property he took, and as far as was recorded, his predatory excursions cost the Marylanders not a wound.
For six weeks after Cockburn’s return to Warren’s station at Lynnhaven Bay, the British fleet remained inactive. Apparently the British government aimed at no greater object than that of clearing from Chesapeake Bay every vessel not engaged in British interests under British protection. The small craft and privateers were quickly taken or destroyed; but the three chief depots of commerce and armaments—Norfolk, Baltimore, and Washington—required a greater effort. Of these three places Norfolk seemed most open to approach, and Admiral Warren determined to attack it.
The British navy wished nothing more ardently than to capture or destroy the American frigates. One of these, the “Constellation,” lay at Norfolk, where it remained blockaded throughout the war. Admiral Warren could earn no distinction so great as the credit of capturing this frigate, which not only threatened to annoy British commerce should she escape to sea, but even when blockaded in port required a considerable squadron to watch her, and neutralized several times her force.
Another annoyance drew Warren’s attention to Norfolk. June 20, fifteen gunboats issued from the harbor before daylight, and under cover of darkness approached within easy range of a becalmed British frigate, the “Junon” of forty-six guns. For half an hour, from four o’clock till half-past four, the gunboats maintained, according to the official report of Commodore Cassin who commanded them, “a heavy, galling fire at about three quarters of a mile distance.”[388] Their armament was not mentioned, but probably they, like the gunboats on the Lakes, carried in part long thirty-two and twenty-four-pound guns. The attack was intended to test the offensive value of gunboats, and the result was not satisfactory. The fire of fifteen heavy guns for half an hour on a defenceless frigate within easy range should have caused great injury, but did not. When a breeze rose and enabled the “Junon” and a neighboring frigate, the “Barrosa,” to get under weigh, the gunboats were obliged to retire with the loss of one man killed and two wounded. The “Junon” also had one man killed, but received only one or two shots in her hull.[389]
The “Constellation” lay, under the guns of two forts and with every possible precaution, five miles up the Elizabeth River, at the Portsmouth navy-yard. The utmost pains had been taken to provide against approach by water. Whatever incompetence or neglect was shown elsewhere, Norfolk was under the command of able officers in both services, who neglected no means of defence. General Wade Hampton had fortified the interior line immediately below the town, where two strong forts were constructed under the direction of Captain Walker Keith Armistead of the Engineers, the first graduate of the West Point Academy in 1803. Five miles below these forts, where the river widened into Hampton Roads, Brigadier-General Robert Taylor of the Virginia militia, and Captain John Cassin commanding at the navy-yard, established a second line of defence, resting on Craney Island on the left, supported by fifteen or twenty gunboats moored across the channel. A battery of seven guns was established on the island covering the approach to the gunboats, so that the capture of the island was necessary to the approach by water. The force on the island consisted of about seven hundred men, of whom less than a hundred were State troops. The rest were infantry of the line, riflemen, seamen, and marines.[390] The town and forts were strongly garrisoned, and a large body of State militia was constantly on service.
To deal with the defences of Norfolk, Admiral Warren brought from Bermuda, according to newspaper account, a detachment of battalion marines eighteen hundred strong; three hundred men of the One Hundred-and-second regiment of the line, commanded by Lieut.-Colonel Charles James Napier, afterward a very distinguished officer; two hundred and fifty chasseurs, or French prisoners of war who had entered the British service; and three hundred men of the royal marine artillery,[391]—in all, two thousand six hundred and fifty rank-and-file, or about three thousand men all told, besides the sailors of the fleet. At that time no less than thirteen sail of British ships, including three ships-of-the-line and five frigates, lay at anchor within thirteen miles of Craney Island.
The attack was planned for June 22. The land forces were commanded by Sir Sydney Beckwith, but the general movement was directed by Admiral Warren.[392] The main attack, led by Major-General Beckwith in person, was to land and approach Craney Island from the rear, or mainland; the second division, under command of Captain Pechell of the flag-ship “San Domingo,” 74, was to approach the island in boats directly under fire of the American guns on the island, but not exposed to those in the gunboats.
The plan should have succeeded. The island was held by less than seven hundred men in an open earthwork easily assaulted from the rear. The water was so shallow as to offer little protection against energetic attack. The British force was more than twice the American, and the plan of attack took from the gunboats the chance of assisting the land-battery.
![[(Larger)]](#206127883311517536_i_272_large.jpg.id-813478028222398930.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
MAP
OF THE
BATTLE
OF
CRANEY ISLAND
FROM MAPS IN
OFFICE CHIEF OF ENGINEERS
At daylight on the morning of June 22 Beckwith, with about eight hundred men, landed on the main shore outside of Craney Island, and pushed forward to take the island in the rear. Soon afterward Captain Pechell, with about seven hundred men in fifteen boats, approached the island from the northwest along the shore, far out of the reach of the gunboats. Toward eleven o’clock the British boats came within range of the American battery on the island. Contrary to the opinions of several officers, Captain Pechell insisted on making the attack independently of Beckwith’s approach, and pushed on. Two or three hundred yards from land the leading boats grounded in shoal water. Apparently the men might have waded ashore; but “one of the seamen, having plunged his boat-hook over the side, found three or four feet of slimy mud at the bottom;”[393] the leading officer’s boat being aground was soon struck by a six-pound shot, the boat sunk, and himself and his crew, with those of two other launches, were left in the water. The other boats took a part of them in, and then quickly retired.
The affair was not improved by the fortunes of Sir Sydney Beckwith, who advanced to the rear of Craney Island, where he was stopped by creeks which he reported too deep to ford, and accordingly re-embarked his troops without further effort; but the true causes of the failure seemed not to be understood. Napier thought it due to the division of command between three heads, Warren, Cockburn, and Beckwith;[394] but incompetence was as obvious as the division of command. Admiral Warren’s official report seemed to admit that he was also overmatched:[395]—
“Upon approaching the island, from the extreme shoalness of the water on the seaside and the difficulty of getting across from the land, as well as the island itself being fortified with a number of guns and men from the frigate [‘Constellation’] and the militia, and flanked by fifteen gunboats, I considered, in consequence of the representation of the officer commanding the troops of the difficulty of their passing over from the land, that the persevering in the attempt would cost more men than the number with us would permit, as the other forts must have been stormed before the frigate and dock-yard could be destroyed. I therefore directed the troops to be re-embarked.”
On neither side were the losses serious. The American battery inflicted less injury than was to be expected. Fifteen British boats containing at least eight hundred men, all told, remained some two hours under the fire of two twenty-four-pound and four six-pound guns, at a range differently estimated from one hundred to three hundred yards, but certainly beyond musketry fire, for the American troops had to wade out before firing. Three boats were sunk; three men were killed, and sixteen were wounded.[396] Sixty-two men were reported missing, twenty-two of whom came ashore from the boats, while forty deserted from Beckwith’s land force.[397] The Americans suffered no loss.
To compensate his men for their check at Craney Island, Admiral Warren immediately afterward devised another movement, which proved, what the Craney Island affair suggested, that the large British force in the Chesapeake was either ill constructed or ill led. Opposite Craney Island, ten miles away on the north shore of James River, stood the village of Hampton, a place of no importance either military or commercial. Four or five hundred Virginia militia were camped there, covering a heavy battery on the water’s edge. The battery and its defenders invited attack, but Admiral Warren could have no military object to gain by attacking them. His official report[398] said “that the enemy having a post at Hampton defended by a considerable corps commanding the communication between the upper part of the country and Norfolk, I considered it advisable, and with a view to cut off their resources, to direct it to be attacked.” Hampton could not fairly be said to “command” communication with Norfolk, a place which lay beyond ten miles of water wholly commanded by the British fleet; but Warren was not obliged to excuse himself for attacking wherever he pleased, and Hampton served his object best.
At dawn of June 25, Beckwith’s troops were set ashore about two miles above the village, and moved forward to the road, taking Hampton in the rear, while Cockburn’s launches made a feint from the front. The militia, after resistance costing Beckwith a total loss of nearly fifty men, escaped, and the British troops entered the town, where they were allowed to do what they pleased with property and persons. Lieutenant-Colonel Napier of the One Hundred-and-second regiment, who commanded Beckwith’s advance, wrote in his diary that Sir Sydney Beckwith “ought to have hanged several villains at Little Hampton; had he so done, the Americans would not have complained; but every horror was perpetrated with impunity,—rape, murder, pillage,—and not a man was punished.” The British officers in general shared Napier’s disgust, but alleged that the English troops took no part in the outrages, which were wholly the work of the French chasseurs.
Warren made no attempt to hold the town; the troops returned two days afterward to their ships, and the Virginia militia resumed their station; but when the details of the Hampton affair became known, the story roused natural exasperation throughout the country, and gave in its turn incitement to more violence in Canada. Admiral Warren and Sir Sydney Beckwith did not deny the wrong; they dismissed their Frenchmen from the service, and the United States had no further reason to complain of that corps; but the double mortification seemed to lower the British officers even in their own eyes to the level of marauders.
After the failure to destroy the “Constellation,” Admiral Warren could still indulge a hope of destroying the twenty-eight-gun frigate “Adams,” and the navy-yard at Washington; for the defence of the Potomac had been totally neglected, and only one indifferent fort, about twelve miles below the Federal city, needed to be captured. July 1 the British squadron entered the Potomac; but beyond rousing a panic at Washington it accomplished nothing, except to gain some knowledge of the shoals and windings that impeded the ascent of the river. Leaving the Potomac, Warren turned up Chesapeake Bay toward Annapolis and Baltimore, but made no attempt on either place. During the rest of the year he cruised about the bay, meeting little resistance, and keeping the States of Virginia and Maryland in constant alarm.
Cockburn was more active. In the month of July he was detached with a squadron carrying Napier’s One Hundred-and-second regiment, and arrived, July 12, off Ocracoke Inlet, where he captured two fine privateers,—the “Atlas” and “Anaconda.” Thence he sailed southward, and established himself for the winter on Cumberland Island, near the Florida boundary, where he vexed the Georgians. Besides the property consumed or wasted, he gave refuge to many fugitive slaves, whom he assisted to the West Indies or Florida. “Strong is my dislike,” wrote Napier, “to what is perhaps a necessary part of our job: namely, plundering and ruining the peasantry. We drive all their cattle, and of course ruin them. My hands are clean; but it is hateful to see the poor Yankees robbed, and to be the robber.”
Compared with the widespread destruction which war brought on these regions half a century afterward, the injury inflicted by the British navy in 1813 was trifling, but it served to annoy the Southern people, who could offer no resistance, and were harassed by incessant militia-calls. To some extent the same system of vexation was pursued on the Northern coast. The Delaware River was blockaded and its shores much annoyed. New York was also blockaded, and Nantucket with the adjacent Sounds became a British naval station. There Sir Thomas Hardy, Nelson’s favorite, officer, commanded, in his flag-ship the “Ramillies.” Hardy did not encourage marauding such as Cockburn practised, but his blockade was still stringent, and its efficiency was proved by the failure of Decatur’s efforts to evade it.
Decatur commanded a squadron composed of the “United States,” its prize frigate the “Macedonian,” and the sloop-of-war “Hornet,” which lay in the harbor of New York, waiting for a chance to slip out. Impatient at the steady watch kept by the British fleet off Sandy Hook, Decatur brought his three ships through the East River into Long Island Sound. He reached Montauk Point, May 29, only to find Hardy’s squadron waiting for him. June 1 he made an attempt to run out, but was chased back, and took refuge in the harbor of New London. A large British squadron immediately closed upon the harbor, and Decatur not only lost hope of getting to sea but became anxious for the safety of his ships. He withdrew them as far as he could into the river, five miles above the town, and took every precaution to repel attack. The British officers were said to have declared that they would get the “Macedonian” back “even if they followed her into a cornfield.” They did not make the attempt, but their vigilance never relaxed, and Decatur was obliged to remain all summer idle in port. He clung to the hope that when winter approached he might still escape; but in the month of December the country was scandalized by the publication of an official letter from Decatur to the Secretary of the Navy, charging the people of New London with the responsibility for his failure.
“Some few nights since,” he wrote,[399] Dec. 20, 1813, “the weather promised an opportunity for this squadron to get to sea, and it was said on shore that we intended to make the attempt. In the course of the evening two blue lights were burned on both the points at the harbor’s mouth as signals to the enemy; and there is not a doubt but that they have, by signals and otherwise, instantaneous information of our movements. Great but unsuccessful exertions have been made to detect those who communicated with the enemy by signal.... Notwithstanding these signals have been repeated, and have been seen by twenty persons at least in this squadron, there are men in New London who have the hardihood to affect to disbelieve it, and the effrontery to avow their disbelief.”
Decatur’s charge roused much ill feeling, and remained a subject of extreme delicacy with the people of New London. Perhaps Decatur would have done better not to make such an assertion until he could prove its truth. That blue lights, as well as other lights, were often seen, no one denied; but whether they came from British or from American hands, or were burned on sea or on shore, were points much disputed. The town of New London was three miles from the river’s mouth, and Decatur’s squadron then lay at the town. At that distance the precise position of a light in line with the British fleet might be mistaken. Decatur’s report, if it proved anything, proved that the signals were concerted, and were burnt from “both the points at the river’s mouth.” If the British admiral wanted information, he could have found little difficulty in obtaining it; but he would hardly have arranged a system of signals as visible to Decatur as to himself. Even had he done so, he might have employed men in his own service as well as Americans for the purpose. Decatur’s letter admitted that he had made great exertions to detect the culprits, but without success.
The rigor of the British blockade extended no farther north than the Vineyard and Nantucket. Captain Broke in the “Shannon,” with a companion frigate, cruised off Boston harbor rather to watch for ships-of-war than to interfere with neutral commerce. Along the coast of Maine an illicit trade with the British provinces was so actively pursued that one of the few American sloops-of-war, the “Enterprise,” cruised there, holding smugglers, privateers, and petty marauders in check. On no other portion of the coast would an armed national vessel have been allowed to show itself, but the “Enterprise,” protected by the bays and inlets of Maine, and favored by the absence of a blockade, performed a useful service as a revenue cutter. She was not a first-rate vessel. Originally a schooner, carrying twelve guns and sixty men, she had taken part in the war with Tripoli. She was afterward altered into a brig, and crowded with sixteen guns and a hundred men. In 1813 she was commanded by Lieutenant William Burrows, a Pennsylvanian, who entered the navy in 1799, and, like all the naval heroes, was young,—not yet twenty-eight years old.
On the morning of September 5, as the “Enterprise” was cruising eastward, Burrows discovered in a bay near Portland a strange brig, and gave chase. The stranger hoisted three English ensigns, fired several guns, and stood for the “Enterprise.” Perhaps escape would have been impossible; but the British captain might, without disgrace, have declined to fight, for he was no match for the American. The “Enterprise” measured about ninety-seven feet in length; the “Boxer,” as the British brig was named, measured about eighty-four. The “Enterprise” was nearly twenty-four feet in extreme width; the “Boxer” slightly exceeded twenty-two feet. The “Enterprise” carried fourteen eighteen-pound carronades and two long-nines; the “Boxer” carried twelve eighteen-pound carronades and two long-sixes. The “Enterprise” had a crew of one hundred and two men; the “Boxer” had only sixty-six men on board. With such odds against him, the British captain might have entertained some desperate hope of success, but could not have expected it.
The behavior of Captain Blyth of the “Boxer” showed consciousness of his position, for he nailed his colors to the mast, and told his men that they were not to be struck while he lived. The day was calm, and the two brigs manœuvred for a time before coming together; but at quarter-past three in the afternoon they exchanged their first broadside within a stone’s throw of one another. The effect on both vessels was destructive. Captain Blyth fell dead, struck full in the body by an eighteen-pound shot. Lieutenant Burrows fell, mortally wounded, struck by a canister shot. After another broadside, at half-past three the “Enterprise” ranged ahead, crossed the “Boxer’s” bow, and fired one or two more broadsides, until the “Boxer” hailed and surrendered, her colors still nailed to the mast.
Considering the disparity of force, the two brigs suffered nearly in equal proportion. The “Boxer” lost seven men killed or mortally wounded; the “Enterprise” lost four. The “Boxer” had thirteen wounded, not fatally; the “Enterprise” had eight. The “Boxer’s” injuries were not so severe as to prevent her captors from bringing her as a prize to Portland; and no incident in this quasi-civil war touched the sensibilities of the people more deeply than the common funeral of the two commanders,—both well known and favorites in the service, buried, with the same honors and mourners, in the graveyard at Portland overlooking the scene of their battle.
Neither the battle between the “Enterprise” and “Boxer,” nor any measures that could be taken by sea or land, prevented a constant traffic between Halifax and the New England ports not blockaded. The United States government seemed afraid to interfere with it. The newspapers asserted that hundreds of Americans were actually in Halifax carrying on a direct trade, and that thousands of barrels of flour were constantly arriving there from the United States in vessels carrying the Swedish or other neutral flag. In truth the government could do little to enforce its non-intercourse, and even that little might prove mischievous. Nothing could be worse than the spirit of the people on the frontier. Engaged in a profitable illicit commerce, they could only be controlled by force, and any force not overwhelming merely provoked violence or treason. The Navy Department had no vessels to send there, and could not have prevented their capture if vessels in any number had been sent. The Secretary of War had abandoned to the State governments the defence of the coast. When Armstrong allotted garrisons to the various military districts, he stationed one regiment, numbering three hundred and fifty-two effectives, besides two hundred and sixty-three artillerists, in Military District No. 1, which included the whole coast north of Cape Cod, with the towns of Boston, Marblehead, Salem, Gloucester, Portsmouth, Portland, and Eastport. Such a provision was hardly sufficient for garrisoning the fort at Boston. The government doubtless could spare no more of its small army, but for any military or revenue purpose might almost as well have maintained in New England no force whatever.