Lieutenant George Lloyd, commanding the “Castilian,” reported September 2 the circumstances attending the loss of the “Avon,” as far as they concerned his share in the matter.[298] At nine o’clock the “Castilian” heard a very heavy firing in the north-northeast, and immediately wore and made all possible sail in that direction, burning blue lights. At quarter past ten the firing ceased, “and on coming up I had the mortification to observe the ‘Avon’ a totally dismantled and ungovernable wreck, with her mainmast gone,—the enemy, apparently a large ship corvette, lying to, to leeward of her, who on my closing made all sail, and evinced every wish to avoid a contest with us.”
“I immediately used means to enable me to bring her to close action; and from our superior sailing I had in a few minutes the gratification to be within half a cable’s length on her weather quarter. But I lament to state at this anxious crisis the ‘Avon’s’ situation became most alarming; she had commenced firing minute guns, and making every other signal of distress and of being in want of immediate assistance. I must here (as my pen can but inadequately describe) leave you, sir, to judge the feelings of myself, officers, and crew, as, from the confusion which evidently prevailed on board the enemy, the damage she had sustained, and her bad steerage, together with the cool and steady conduct of the officers and men I have the honor to command, I had no doubt of her falling an easy prey could we have persisted in attacking her, but which was not to be done without sacrificing the lives of the surviving gallant crew of our consort. Thus situated ... I was obliged ... to leave the flying enemy to escape; but I feel somewhat gratified the situation of the ‘Castilian’ enabled me to give him a raking, and I doubt not from the closeness of the vessels a most destructive broadside, which he did not return even with a single gun,—a circumstance that, I trust, cannot fail to prove how destructive the ‘Avon’s’ fire must have been.”
Lieutenant Lloyd did not explain how his enemy was to bring guns to bear under the circumstances, the “Castilian” tacking under the “Wasp’s” stern at half a cable’s length distance, and immediately standing in the opposite direction, nor did he say what had become of the “Tartarus.” Doubtless the “Wasp” steered badly, her rigging being much damaged; and Blakeley was chiefly intent on keeping off till he could reeve new braces. The “Castilian’s” broadside cut the “Wasp’s” rigging and sails, and shot away a lower main cross-tree, but did no other serious damage.
The “Avon” lost ten men killed and thirty-two wounded, besides being reduced to a sinking condition in an hour of night action in a ten-knot wind, with two more ships-of-war in sight and hearing. The “Wasp” lost two men killed and one wounded, four round shot in the hull, and the “rigging and sails suffered a great deal.”[299]
Blakeley had done enough, and could hardly do more. Besides two eighteen-gun brigs, he made in his cruise fourteen prizes, which he destroyed, several of great value. In that year all the frigates in the United States service had not done as much. With a single-decked ship of five hundred tons, armed with carronades, Blakeley blockaded the British Channel for two months, capturing vessels in sight of ships-of-the-line, and destroying two sloops-of-war in rapid succession, without serious injury to himself, and to the consternation of the British marine.
After sinking the “Avon,” September 1, Blakeley held on his course toward Madeira, and there, September 21, captured the brig “Atlanta,” which he sent to Savannah. Still later, October 9, near the Cape de Verde Islands, he spoke a Swedish brig, which reported him. After that day no word of tidings was ever received from the “Wasp.” Somewhere under the waters of the Atlantic, ship and crew found an unknown grave.
Besides the large sloops-of-war, three smaller vessels—the “Syren,” “Enterprise,” and “Rattlesnake”—went to sea in 1814. The “Syren” was captured after a chase of eleven hours, nearly on a wind, by the “Medway,” seventy-four; her sixteen guns, and everything else that could be spared, were thrown overboard during the chase. The “Rattlesnake” and “Enterprise” cruised in company toward the West Indies, and made some prizes. The “Rattlesnake” was fast, the “Enterprise” a very dull sailer; but after repeated hairbreadth escapes, the “Rattlesnake” was caught, July 11, by the frigate “Leander,” with Cape Sable to windward, and was obliged to surrender.[300] The “Enterprise,” with her usual good fortune, was never taken, but became a guardship.
After November 1 the United States government had not a ship at sea. In port, three seventy-fours were building, and five forty-fours were building or blockaded. Three thirty-six-gun frigates were laid up or blockaded. Four sloops-of-war were also in port, the “Peacock” having just returned from her long cruise. Such a result could not be called satisfactory. The few war-vessels that existed proved rather what the government might have done than what the British had to fear from any actual or probable American navy. The result of private enterprise showed also how much more might easily have been done by government.
The year 1814 was marked by only one great and perhaps decisive success on either side, except Macdonough’s victory. This single success was privateering. Owners, captains, and crews had then learned to build and sail their vessels, and to hunt their prey with extraordinary skill. A few rich prizes stimulated the building of new vessels as the old were captured, and the ship-yards turned them out as rapidly as they were wanted. In the neighborhood of Boston, in the summer of 1814, three companion ships were built,—the “Reindeer,” “Avon,” and “Blakeley;” and of these the “Reindeer” was said to have been finished in thirty-five working days, and all three vessels were at sea in the following winter. No blockade short of actual siege could prevent such craft from running out and in. Scores of them were constantly on the ocean.
On the Atlantic privateers swarmed. British merchantmen were captured, recaptured, and captured again, until they despaired of ever reaching port. One British master who was three times taken and as often retaken, reported that he had seen ten American privateers crossing his course. A letter from Halifax printed in the London “Times” of December 19 said: “There are privateers off this harbor which plunder every vessel coming in or going out, notwithstanding we have three line-of-battle ships, six frigates, and four sloops here.” The West Indies and the Canaries were haunted by privateers. The “Rambler,” “Hyder Ali,” and “Jacob Jones” of Boston penetrated even the Chinese seas, and carried prize-goods into Macao and Canton. Had these pests confined their ravages to the colonies or the ocean, the London clubs and the lobbies of Parliament would have thought little about them; but the privateer had discovered the weakness of Great Britain, and frequented by preference the narrow seas which England regarded as her own. The quasi-blockade of the British coasts which American cruisers maintained in 1813 became a real and serious blockade in 1814. Few days passed without bringing news of some inroad into British waters, until the Thames itself seemed hardly safe.