Privateers and Privateering

by Edward Phillips Statham

Sending Rogers in to reconnoitre, and, if possible, attack, Mason endeavoured to sail a little higher up the bay, to prevent the American vessels running for the Delaware River, while Rogers, engaging the assistance of the Fair American, a privateer, went straight for the convoy. No sooner had he rounded Cape May, in sight of the Americans, than Barney, signalling his convoy to run for the river—the Quebec not having yet got far enough up to head them off, on account of the shoal water—endeavoured to put his ship in the way of the pursuers. The Fair American ran past him, with a broadside which was not returned, captured one vessel, chased another on shore, and then, in the endeavour to cut off three others, ran aground herself.

This cleared the field for a duel between the General Monk and the Hyder Ali, and they had a very pretty fight.

Barney, as the General Monk came on with the intention of boarding, delivered his broadside at pistol-range, and then frustrated the Englishman's plan of boarding by a ruse. Bidding the helmsman interpret his next order by "the rule of contrary," he shouted, as the vessels were on the point of fouling, "Hard a-port! Do you want him to run aboard us?"—the intention being that the order, distinctly audible on board the British vessel, should convey a false impression; for the helmsman, in accordance with the hint just received, put the helm hard a-starboard, the result being that the English vessel's jibboom became entangled in the Hyder Ali's fore-rigging. This is all very possible, and Barney was just the kind of man to have recourse to a ruse of this kind; but the relative positions of the ships at the moment are not technically described, so it is impossible to judge of the feasibility of the manœuvre, or of its efficacy. However, we are told that the Americans lashed the head-gear of the General Monk to their rigging, and raked her with their fire, to which she could make no effective return.

Rogers called his men to board, but the American defensive measures were too strong, and they fell back. Then ensued a conflict chiefly with small-arms, and there are some little stories in connection with it. Barney, it appears, had among his crew a number of backwoodsmen, crack shots, but little accustomed to the amenities of discipline. One of these men kept on asking his captain, whenever he came within earshot, where the musket which he was using was made. Barney, annoyed by this freedom, ignored him for a time, then asked him sharply why he wanted to know. "W-a-a-l," drawled the backwoodsman, "this 'ere bit o' iron is jes' the best smoothbore I ever fired in my life"—and he went on picking off the Britishers. Another drew Barney's attention to his next shot. "Say, Cap., do you see that fellow with the white hat?"—and in another moment the individual in the white hat leapt three feet in the air, and fell to rise no more. It was found, after the action, says the narrator, that every one of the Englishmen killed or wounded by musketry was struck either in the head or breast.

The Britishers, however, were not idle with their small-arms; Barney, jumping on the compass stand to see better what was going on, had his head shaved by a ball which perforated his hat. Another tore off part of his coat-tail. Upon this he ordered his Marine officer to direct his men's fire at the enemy's tops, and in a few minutes the tops were cleared.

Then a round-shot struck the binnacle, or compass stand, upon which Barney stood, and sent him flying. Just before this occurred he had had a vision of one of his officers, with the cook's axe uplifted, in act to floor a seaman who had got nervous, and was hiding behind the mainmast. The next moment Barney turned an involuntary somersault, and found the officer, who had dropped the cook's axe, standing over him in apprehension. Finding his captain unhurt—most of us would have been a good deal hurt under the circumstances, but perhaps Captain Barney came down on the spot, like a sixpence when a billiard-ball is knocked from under it—the stern officer resumed his murderous weapon, and made for the timid seaman again. But the latter had by this time realised that the cook's axe was a certainty and the enemy's fire a chance, so he returned to his quarters.

And so, with these little amenities, the fight went on; but it was a losing fight for the British. Rogers could not get his ship away. His guns—his stupid little carronades—were behaving in a fiendish manner, tumbling about and shooting anywhere except in the right direction; and his men were falling fast. His masts and rigging were so damaged that he could not handle the sails, and he was at length compelled to yield, himself severely wounded and many of his officers and men dead and dying around him; and so the General Monk changed hands again, and became once more the General Washington.

Captain Barney, without doubt, fought his craft with immense pluck and dexterity, and thoroughly deserved the victory; but it is extremely doubtful whether the superiority of force was not on his side. Neither account gives the tonnage of the two vessels. Robert Beatson, a good authority, gives the General Monk's armament as above described, and gives also a very different account of the action, ascribing Rogers's defeat chiefly to the inefficiency of his guns. He says, at the commencement, that the Hyder Ali "cut her boat adrift, and did everything else to get away, notwithstanding her superior force." The reader can take his choice.

This ends Joshua Barney's career as a privateer during this war. He was placed in command of the General Washington, and subsequently visiting Plymouth, he entertained on board his ship the friends who had aided his escape and a number of British officers, and bestowed a purse of gold upon Lord Mount-Edgecumbe's gardener, who had so opportunely opened the little gate for him.

There are other privateer heroes of this period who richly deserve notice, but space does not admit of a detailed account of their doings.