VI
THE “COMET”—PRIVATEER
[January 14th, 1813]
During the war of 1812 the American privateers sent home to United States ports so many hundreds of British vessels that the printed list makes quite a showing by itself. The names of the prizes taken, their tonnage and value, were published in Niles’s Weekly Register, of Baltimore, and each week during the progress of the war the number grew, until it seemed that the stock of Laughing Lassies, Bouncing Besses, Arabellas, Lords something-or-other, Ladies this or Countesses of that, must surely be exhausted. In they came to Baltimore, to New York, or Boston by the scores—brigs and barks, schooners and ships, sloops and transports. Some were next to worthless, some were valuable, and some were veritable floating mines of wealth; some were heavily armed and had been captured after fierce fighting; others had been picked up like ripe fruit and sent home under prize-masters. Each one, however, was stamped with the seal of her captor, who might be cruising anywhere from the China Sea to the English Channel. Eager for racing, chasing, or fighting, the American privateers were watching the highways of British commerce. What did they care for armed consorts or guard-ships? They could show a clean pair of heels to the fastest cruisers that carried the red cross of St. George, or turn to and fight out of all proportion to their appearance or size—and this latter was proved true in many well-recorded instances. They were the kestrels and the game-cocks of the sea. The names of some of them were familiar to every school-boy eighty-odd years ago—Revenge, Atlas, Young Eagle, Montgomery, Teazer, Decatur, General Armstrong, Comet. Here were some tight little craft that caused their powder-monkeys fairly to smell of prize-money on their return from each successful cruise.
All of these vessels were oversparred, overarmed, and overmanned. It was the privateersman’s business to take risks, and many paid the penalty for rashness; but their fearlessness and impudence were often most astounding, and their self-reliance actually superb.
Up to the end of the first year of the war Maryland alone had sent out more than forty armed vessels, and, as a writer in the Weekly Register naïvely remarks, “not one up to date has been even in danger of being captured, though frequently chased by British vessels of war.”
But to come to the affair of the Comet, privateer, of Baltimore. Her name had become familiar all along the Atlantic coast, her “winnings” were anchored in almost every harbor, and she could have the pick of the seamen lucky enough to be ashore at any place where she put in. Her ’tween-decks were crowded with extra crews and prize-masters to man her captures when she sailed out again.
The Comet was commanded by Captain Boyle, an intrepid sailor, and a man liked and trusted by his crew of 120 well-trained tars. She was as handy as a whip, and sailed like a cup-defender. She carried 6 guns in a broadside, a swivel, and a gun amidships.
It was on the 9th of January, 1813, that Captain Boyle spoke a Portuguese coasting-vessel which had just left the harbor of Pernambuco, Brazil, and learned that in the harbor were three English vessels loaded and ready to sail for Europe—one large armed ship and two armed brigs.
Upon hearing this welcome news Captain Boyle shortened sail, and tacked back and forth for five days, waiting and watching. On the 14th of the month his sharp lookout was rewarded by the sight of not three but four sail coming offshore before the wind. The Comet sheered away to the southward, and lay by, to give the strangers an opportunity of passing her. When they had done so, she put after them. It was quite late in the afternoon, a tremendous sea was running, and a freshening breeze lifted the Comet up the sides of the huge waves and raced her down into the hollows. She overhauled the other vessels as if they had been anchored. They kept close together, rising and then sinking hulls out of sight in the great seas. They evidently had no fear of the little vessel bearing down upon them, for they made no effort to spread their lighter sails. The Comet was under a press of canvas, and the water was roaring and tumbling every now and then over her forward rails.
At six o’clock, or thereabouts, the reason for the leisurely movements of the chase was discovered—one of the vessels was seen to be a large man-of-war brig. She was hanging back, evidently awaiting the American’s approach. The speed of the Comet was not lessened, not a stitch was taken in, but quickly the guns were loaded with round shot and grape, and the decks were cleared for action. Then Captain Boyle hoisted the American flag. The other hoisted Portuguese colors. As the Comet sheered up close, the stranger hailed and requested the privilege of sending a boat on board, saying he wished to speak with the American captain on a matter of importance.
Accordingly, the Comet hove to, and her commander received the Portuguese officer a few minutes later at the companion-way. The conversation, in view of subsequent proceedings, must have been extremely interesting. The officer was a little taken aback when he saw the men standing stripped to the waist about the guns, the look of determination and the man-o’-war appearance everywhere. But he doffed his hat, and informed Captain Boyle sententiously that the vessel he had just left belonged to His Majesty of Portugal, that she carried twenty 32-pounders and a crew of 165 men.