The morning of the 10th of September dawned fine and clear. Perry, with his fleet anchored about him, lay in the quiet waters of Put-in Bay. A light breeze was blowing from the south. Very early a number of sail were seen out on the lake beyond the point, and soon the strangers were discovered to be the British fleet. Everything depended now upon the speed, with which the Americans could prepare for action. In twelve minutes every vessel was under way and sailing out to meet the on-comers; the Lawrence led the line. As the two fleets approached, the British concentrated the fire of their long and heavy guns upon her. She came on in silence; at her peak was flying a huge motto-flag; plain to view were the words of the brave commander of the Chesapeake: “Don’t give up the ship.”
The responsibility that rested upon the young commander’s shoulders was great; his position was most precarious. This was the first action between the fleets of the two hostile countries; it was a battle for the dominion of the lakes; defeat meant that the English could land at any time an expeditionary force at any point they chose along the shores of our natural northern barrier. The Lawrence had slipped quite a way ahead of the others, and Perry found that he would have to close, in order to return the English fire, as at the long distance he was surely being ripped to pieces.
Signalling the rest of the fleet to follow him, he made all sail and bore down upon the English; but to quote from the account in the Naval Temple, printed in the year 1816: “Every brace and bowline of the Lawrence being shot away, she became unmanageable, notwithstanding the great exertion of the sailing-master. In this situation she sustained the action within canister distance upwards of two hours, until every gun was rendered useless, and the greater part of her crew either killed or wounded.”
It is easy to imagine the feelings of Perry at this moment. The smaller vessels of his fleet had not come within firing distance; there was absolutely nothing for him to do on board the flagship except to lower his flag. Yet there was one forlorn hope that occurred to the young commander, and without hesitation he called away the only boat capable of floating; taking his flag, he quit the Lawrence, and rowed off for the Niagara. The most wonderful accounts of hair-breadth escapes could not equal that of Perry upon this occasion. Why his boat was not swamped, or its crew and commander killed, cannot be explained. Three of the British ships fired broadsides at him at pistol-shot distance, as he passed by them in succession; and although the water boiled about him, and the balls whistled but a few inches overhead, he reached the Niagara in safety.
There are but a few parallel cases to this, of a commander leaving one ship and transferring his flag to another in the heat of action.
The Duke of York upon one occasion shifted his flag, in the battle of Solebay; and in the battle of Texel, fought on August 11, 1673, the English Admiral Sprague shifted his flag from the Royal Prince to the St. George, and the Dutch Admiral Van Tromp shifted his flag from the Golden Lion to the Comet, owing to the former vessel being practically destroyed by a concentrated fire. This does not detract from the gallantry of Perry’s achievement. The danger he faced was great, and he was probably closer to the enemy’s vessels than any of the commanders above mentioned.
THE “NIAGARA” BREAKS THE ENGLISH LINE
Perry’s younger brother, who was but a midshipman, was one of the seven other men in the boat. They left on board the Lawrence not above a half score of able-bodied men to look after the numerous wounded. Owing to the opinions of many of the contemporary writers, who gave way to an intense feeling of partisanship, some bitterness was occasioned, and sides were taken in regard to the actions of Master Commandant Elliot and his superior officer; but looking back at it from this day, we can see little reason for any feeling of jealousy. It is hard to point the finger at any one on the American side in this action and say that he did not do his duty. As Perry reached the side of the Niagara the wind died away until it was almost calm; the smaller vessels, the sloops and schooners—the Somers, the Scorpion, the Tigress, the Ohio, and the Porcupine—were seen to be well astern. Upon Perry setting foot on deck, Elliot congratulated him upon the way he had left his ship, and volunteered to bring up the boats to windward, if he could be spared. Upon receiving permission he jumped into the boat in which Perry had rowed from the Lawrence, and set out to bring up all the forces. Every effort was made to form a front of battle, and the little gunboats, urged on by sweeps and oars, were soon engaged in a race for glory. In the meantime, however, the English had slackened their fire as they saw the big flag lowered from the Lawrence’s masthead; they supposed that the latter had struck, and set up a tremendous cheering. This was hushed as they caught sight of the flash of oars and realized what was going forward. In a few minutes out of the thick smoke came the Niagara, breaking their line, and firing her broadsides with such good execution that great confusion followed throughout the fleet. Two of their larger brigs, the Queen Charlotte and Detroit, ran afoul of each other, and the Niagara, giving signal for close action, ran across the bow of one ship and the stern of the other, raking them both with fearful effect; then squaring away, and running astern of the Lady Prevost, she got in another raking fire, and, sheering off, made for the Hunter. Now the little 1-gun and 2-gun vessels of the American fleet were giving good accounts of themselves.
Although their crews were exposed to full view and stood waist-high above the bulwarks, they did no dodging; their shots were well directed, and they raked the Englishmen fore and aft, carrying away all the masts of the Detroit and the mizzen-mast of the Queen Charlotte.