CHAPTER XI.
THE OUTBREAK OF THE AMERICAN WAR.
The contrast between the events detailed in the last few chapters on the one hand, and on the other those which occurred in the nine years preceding the Peace of Amiens, must strike the most casual reader very forcibly. Where, in those earlier years, was that splendid daring with which Captain Rogers led his men to victory, that dogged obstinacy which brought Captain Anthony successfully out of three fights against a heavy superiority of force within two years, that self-sacrificing zeal which animated Captain Dyneley in his great exploit at Dominica, enabling him to accept the whole burden of the risk which the merchants declined, and so to save a rich island for the British crown?
The evil days on the Falmouth Station had passed away like a dream, and if they are here recalled, it is but with the object of claiming for the Headquarter Staff, and for the officers themselves, full credit for the patient labours which had destroyed the evil practices and created the better spirit. None but those who have shared in the labour of controlling a large body of subordinates can fully appreciate the difficulty of carrying out even such changes of practice as are generally accepted as necessary and reasonable. There is among every large body of men an inertia which only time and patience can overcome. The individual can be moved, but the mass as a whole declines to stir. So it is when rules not specially distasteful are enforced; but when the new regulation cuts at the root of ancient privilege, when it strikes off a profit which by long prescription is regarded as a right, then a number of forces come into opposition more powerfully than the dead weight just mentioned, and the administrator finds his judgment and discretion subjected to a heavy strain.
Therefore, to have enforced the new rules, and not only that, but to have evolved and called out a spirit so different from that which existed on the Falmouth Station ten years before, was an achievement of which the Postmaster General and the Secretary might well feel proud. The conduct of the Packets had been increasingly brilliant, and when the year 1812 began they were in a state of discipline and ardour which would have done credit to any naval force.
It was well that their condition was so good, for the time was at hand when they were to be put to a fiercer test than any which the French Privateers had been able to apply. There were still old men at Falmouth who could remember how the Packets fared in the first American War, and who knew well that the Privateers of Boston or Newport were ten times more formidable than those of Nantes or of Bordeaux. The national belief in the superiority of British pluck to that of any other country would scarcely hold against sailors of our own race; and, as a matter of fact, it is well known that the American cruisers, both national and private, were largely manned with picked men from the British navy, driven by the somewhat harsh and inconsiderate treatment which was too prevalent in our ships to take service with a power which at least fed and paid them well, and treated them with reasonable consideration.
The temptations offered by the Americans to the trained sailors of English ships had always constituted one of the greatest difficulties of the Packet captains, any one of whom had lost at different times numbers of his best men by desertion. Probably many of the sailors who thus deserted their flag rejoined it on the outbreak of war; but it is certain that a great number remained in their adopted service, arguing, perhaps, in some confused way, that a war between two sections of the English race which only a generation ago were one united power was of the nature of a civil war, in which there was no question of treason, but every man might take sides according to his judgment.
Whether they salved their consciences with sophistries or not, yet there they were; and the knowledge of this fact was alone sufficient to convince My Lords the Postmaster General that an enemy very different from the French was at hand. It was indeed; but few even of the officers who formed this conclusion could have anticipated such desperate fighting as actually occurred, or could have looked to the little Packets for such splendid conduct as they showed, in what, if the truth must be admitted, was not the brightest period of British naval history.
The war broke out in June, 1812, but it was not until September that any one of the Packets was brought to action.
On the 15th of that month the “Princess Amelia,” three days out from St. Thomas on her homeward voyage, was brought to action by the Privateer “Rossie” of Baltimore, Commodore Barney. The “Princess Amelia” was commanded by Captain Moorsom, a brave and energetic officer of a family well known in our naval annals, both then and since. The “Rossie” carried ten 12–pounders, in addition to a long 9–pounder mounted on a traverse. The “Princess Amelia” had but six guns—she should have carried eight; the cause of the deficiency is not explained—of which at least four were only 6–pounders, the others 9–pounders, and she carried twenty-eight men and boys as against ninety-five upon the Privateer.
There are but scanty details of the fight. The “Rossie,” which had chased the Packet for several hours, and had not answered the private signal, came within range at 6 P.M. She was flying Spanish colours; but Captain Moorsom, suspecting her nationality, ordered a shot to be fired at her, whereupon she immediately hoisted the Stars and Stripes, crossed the Packet’s stern, and fired a broadside as she did so. The action immediately became warm, and the first ten minutes proved that the Americans were masters of their weapons. Within the first half-hour four or five of Captain Moorsom’s crew were hit. At half-past six the master, Mr. Nankivell, was shot through the head. Twenty minutes later Captain Moorsom himself was killed by a grape-shot which pierced his left breast. The command devolved on Mr. Ridgard, the mate, who was himself badly wounded; and on looking round he discovered that out of the complement of the “Princess Amelia,” consisting only of twenty-eight hands, three were killed, and no less than eleven wounded, for the most part seriously, so that the crew was already reduced to half its number, while the enemy were as five to one. Mr. Ridgard reluctantly concluded that all had been done which was possible to save the Packet. Accordingly the mail was sunk, and at seven o’clock the “Princess Amelia” hauled down her colours.