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.”