SCENE I. THE FIGHT WITH THE GUERRIERE
At last the day has come. Long and eagerly awaited has it been by American seamen. A tall-sparred frigate plows through the purple waters of the Gulf Stream. From her mastheads lookouts report a tiny speck upon the clear horizon. Sharp eyes distinguish it from the far-distant masses of cumulous clouds it counterfeits so well. Larger and larger it grows. It becomes, in fact, another frigate, equally large and beautiful. Across one of her topsails is painted a cryptic phrase, “Not the Little Belt.” This may have little meaning to us today. But in the year of our Lord 1812 it was full of grim significance. From her peak flutters a white ensign, barred with red, the proud emblem of the Royal Navy.
On the first ship there is a muffled roll of drums, a brief hurrying of men about the decks, a period of well-ordered activity—then quiet. “Silent is the path of duty for every well-drilled man.” Up to her mastheads creep balls of bunting. These at a quiet word of command break out into strips of red and white, stars of white against a blue field—battle ensigns of the United States. Constitution and Guerriere have met. A great moment of history is at hand.
The famous duel between these two frigates cannot, of course, be compared to the many sea battles between great fleets which have made naval history. But often small events have a far-reaching influence. This fight certainly was one of the most important and decisive single ship actions ever fought.
To show why this was so we must set the scene before we begin the play. To Great Britain, engaged in a death struggle with Napoleon, our little war was nothing more than a side show—of even less importance than the entry of a Balkan nation into the World War struggle. The chief concern of the British statesmen was that it might interfere with the supply of Wellington’s army in Spain—a task performed almost exclusively by American merchant vessels. It never occurred to them that our frigates would put to sea, or, if they should, that they could last long against the British cruisers which literally covered the Seven Seas. Theodore Roosevelt has stated that during the previous twenty years the Royal Navy had fought two hundred single-ship actions where there was approximate equality in power, i.e., neither ship had a superiority of over three to two. In these actions only five British ships had been captured. With such a record of success, it was only natural that the British captains should give scant consideration to our young and comparatively inexperienced Navy.
It is true that the Constitution was about 7 per cent larger than the Guerriere; that she carried 24-pounder guns against the 18-pounders in the British frigate, thus giving us a ten to seven superiority in weight of metal; and that her sides were very thick, stouter in fact than those of a British ship-of-the-line. But the British captains showed not the slightest concern over these American advantages, which at that time were not considered as such. In fact, it was thought that we had overweighted our ships with guns and timbers so that their speed and handiness were decreased. Captain Dacres of the Guerriere had challenged any American frigate to meet him in single combat. He had bet Captain Isaac Hull, so the story goes, a perfectly good hat that he would beat the Constitution. Even after the fight Dacres said he would be happy to fight him again with “a frigate of similar force to the Guerriere.” All the propaganda of our frigates being disguised ships-of-the-line was a much later concoction, disseminated after we had proved in three battles the advantage of our heavier guns and thicker sides, as well as the efficiency of our officers and sailors.
But now let the fight begin. For some hours the Guerriere kept away, trying to gain some advantage. But at 6:00 P.M. Dacres decided to end this useless maneuvering and get to business. He headed directly before the wind, decreased sail, and waited for the American frigate. Hull, increasing his sail power, came swiftly down upon him. Zero hour was about to strike. What could Yankee seamen do against the might of Britannia?
From the painting by Thomas Birch Constitution AND Guerriere
Macpherson Collection Capture of the British Frigate Java by the U.S. Frigate Constitution off the Coast of Brazil, December 29, 1812
Moses Smith, sponger of No. 1 gun, describes how the Constitution went into action. “Hull was now all animation. He saw that the decisive moment had come. With great energy, yet calmness of manner, he passed around among the officers and men, addressing to them words of confidence and encouragement. ‘Men,’ said he, ‘now do your duty. Your officers cannot have entire control over you now. Each man must do all in his power for his country.’ The Stars and Stripes never floated more proudly than they did at that moment. All was silent beneath them, save the occasional order from an officer, or the low sound of the movement of our implements of war. Every man stood firm to his post.”
By 6:05 the Constitution was two hundred yards on the Guerriere’s port quarter. Hull then yawed his ship’s head slightly away from the enemy and threw his broadside full upon her. As the guns bore on the target they fired in rapid succession. “We instantly followed the thunder of our cannon with three loud cheers, which rang along the ship like the roar of waters, and floated away rapidly to the ears of the enemy.”
The cannonading was terrific. Our gunners, in the heat of battle, looked well to their aim. By 6:20 the Constitution was abreast the British frigate, distant one hundred yards. Then with a splintering crash came down Dacres’ mizzenmast. “Huzza, boys! We’ve made a brig of her!” The mast, with its tangle of sails and rigging, dragged in the water and checked the Guerriere’s headway. Here was Hull’s chance, and he was not the man to miss it. Spinning his wheel to the right, he charged across his enemy’s bow. Those terrible 24’s raked her with great effect. As the Constitution shot past and her guns would no longer bear there was a brief lull in the fight. Seaman Daniel Hogan climbed to the dizzy height of the fore truck to replace the battle ensign which had been shot away.
Hull wore his ship and again headed across the bow of the almost unmanageable Guerriere. His gunners had moved across the deck and cast loose the port guns. Again they raked the British frigate. But this time Hull had come a bit too close. The ships came together. Boarders were called away. A storm of musketry broke out. Sharpshooters in the tops fired down on the crowded decks. Lieutenant William Bush of the Marines fell dead. Lieutenant Charles Morris, who first had scaled the Philadelphia’s side, was severely wounded. So also was Sailing Master John Aylwin, a brave and skillful officer. At 6:30 the ships came clear. And then the Guerriere’s foremasts and mainmasts plunged over her side. Twenty-five minutes had sufficed for Yankee gunners to dismast a British frigate.
Seeing that the fight was won, Hull hauled off to repair his rigging. He must be prepared for another enemy if one should appear. At 7:00 he returned to receive the surrender of Captain Dacres. The prize was so completely wrecked that there was no hope of bringing her into port. After her crew had been taken off, she was set on fire. From the Constitution’s quarter-deck Captain Dacres watched. At length her magazine exploded and she disappeared beneath the waters. A sad omen it must have seemed to the British captain. A new sea power had arrived!
That this was fully appreciated is shown by an article in the London Times. “It is not merely that an English frigate has been taken, after, what we are free to confess may be called a brave resistance, but that it has been taken by a new enemy, an enemy unaccustomed to such triumphs, and likely to be rendered insolent and confident by them. He must be a weak politician who does not see how important the first triumph is in giving a tone and character to the war. Never before in the history of the world did an English frigate strike to an American.”
In our country the effect was magical. Where before political strife, sectional differences, and commercial rivalries combined to bring our people to the verge of civil war and secession, now a wave of wildest enthusiasm spread like a forest fire. For here was a deed of which every man and woman from Maine to Louisiana might be proud. “Thank God for Hull’s victory” was a watchword which passed from state to state. It gave impetus to naval operations and fired our captains with impatience to get to sea and bring the enemy under their guns. It encouraged swarms of privateers to cover the Seven Seas and attack the enemy’s vital trade routes.
Admiral Sir John Jervis is reported to have said to his flag captain as he sighted the Spanish fleet off Cape St. Vincent that a victory was very necessary to England at that moment. With equal justice Isaac Hull might have made a similar remark on sighting the Guerriere. Our country needed a victory then as it never had before nor has since. Napoleon said that in war the moral is to the physical as three to one; in this case it was many times more. The mere sinking of a frigate meant nothing to England. But the fact that it was sunk by an American frigate at the cost of only fourteen casualties meant a great deal to England, and to our United States. What had been done once could be done again!