By the capture of the Chesapeake, however, all the signals and orders had fallen into the hands of the enemy. Immediately a frigate and several smaller vessels were sent out by the British to intercept the Hornet.
Captain Biddle had weighed anchor not alone, however, but in company with the frigates United States and Macedonian, going from New York through the Sound, as there was then a large British blockading force off Sandy Hook. The little American squadron was under the command of Commodore Decatur.
On the first day of June, within sight of Montauk Point, the three Yankee vessels were met by a larger and heavier force of the enemy. Decatur put back into the Sound and entered New London Harbor, closely pursued by the British, a ship of the line leading. In this chase the Hornet, being deep laden and consequently slow, was nearly overtaken, being fired at by the two headmost ships at quite near range. The American vessels, going through Fisher’s Island Sound, proceeded up the river Thames, and were moored across it, stem to stern, in order the better to defend themselves.
A long and tedious blockade now began, and Biddle’s anxious spirit and courageous disposition fretted under the confinement. It was his first command; he was extremely anxious to measure his strength with an enemy whose force was equal to his own, and he tried again and again to obtain permission to make an attempt to elude the British squadron at the mouth of the river; but in this he failed, Decatur, his senior, forbidding him to risk the venture. For six long months no move was made by either side, although alarms were frequent.
Early in January, 1814, the blockading forces at New London were the Ramillies (74), Commodore Sir Thomas Hardy; the Endymion, Captain Hope; and the Statira, frigate, Captain Stackpole. There were also one or two smaller armed vessels within call. Upon one occasion an American prisoner of war, who was about to be landed at New London in exchange, was present during a conversation among the English officers, who, tired of acting as jailers, were anxious for a conflict. Upon landing he reported what he had heard to the Americans, and Captain Biddle, under a flag of truce, obtained an interview with Sir Thomas Hardy on board the Ramillies. He did his best to secure a meeting between the two frigates United States and the Macedonian on one side, and the Endymion and the Statira on the other.
Sir Thomas, after thinking the matter over, declined the meeting between the Endymion and the United States on account of the difference in force; the captain of the Statira did not wish to try it alone, and so the meeting fell through. And what a strange comment upon the pomp and circumstance of war! Biddle was so anxious himself to fight, and so trusted in the honor of the enemy, that, hearing that a British corvette was shortly to join the station, he would have sailed out through the hostile fleet in the Hornet to meet her all alone. It was the Loup-Cervier that was soon expected to arrive; this vessel had once been the tidy American sloop of war the Wasp, and Biddle had been second in command of her. Now, however, she was under a Captain Mends, and flew, instead of the “sailors’ rights,” the cross of St. George. However, after some correspondence, the meeting was given up, much to Biddle’s chagrin, and the rechristened Loup-Cervier sailed out to sea after delivering despatches.
All through the winter a close blockade of New London was kept up, and it was found impossible to make any escape. At last the government ordered the two American frigates to be moved up the Thames as far as possible, and there they were dismantled. The officers and crew were transferred to other cities, while Captain Biddle was ordered to continue at New London for the protection of the shipping. In vain he protested against this hopeless and mortifying situation. The enemy made no serious preparations for trying to take the force up the river, and at last Biddle succeeded in obtaining permission to try to sail through the British fleet. Leaving the United States and the Macedonian protected by land batteries, he placed the Hornet in the best of trim, and on the night of the 18th of November, undiscovered, he drifted past the guard-ships and arrived safely at New York. It was seventeen months since he had been free.
Biddle was immediately attached, with his ship, to the command of Commodore Decatur again, and was ordered for a cruise to the East Indies. The frigate President, the flagship of the little squadron, went to sea on the 14th of January, 1815, and from the outset was pursued by the worst of misfortunes, that included shipwreck and final capture. On the 23d of January—not knowing of the loss of the President—the Peacock, the Hornet, and a store-vessel went out to sea in a gale of wind. Three days afterwards they separated, and, hearing of the President’s fate from a merchantman, set out for themselves. Late in March, Biddle anchored near the headlands of Tristan d’Acunha, and on the 23d of the month, off the island, a sail was discovered to the southward and eastward. The Hornet, ever on the alert, raised anchor and bore up before the wind. When within five miles Biddle shortened sail and waited for the stranger to come down to him. It is quite amusing to think that the idea that was uppermost in the mind of the British commander (for it was H. M. S. Penguin, a heavily armed brig, that the Hornet had sighted) was this: that if the American saw who it was and how formidable was his ship, he would escape. So the Englishman concealed his identity as much as possible by clumsily taking in his sail to encourage Biddle to wait for him, carefully keeping bow on to the Hornet to hide his strength. Biddle, not understanding his intention, and the idea of running away being the last thing in the world for him to think about, was puzzled. He wore ship three times, trying to get the other to haul by the wind and to show his broadside, but without success. As the enemy approached nearly within musket-shot, the Englishman at last hauled on the starboard tack and hoisted his colors, firing a challenging gun. Biddle immediately luffed, flew his ensign, and gave the enemy a broadside. It was then about forty minutes past one. The action became brisk, and in fifteen minutes the Englishman came down again, bow foremost, as if he would fall on board the Hornet. Orders were given to prepare to repel the expected boarders, but the men could scarcely be restrained from tumbling over the bow of the Penguin as her jib-boom crossed the Hornet’s taffrail.
There was a considerable swell, the sea lifted the Hornet ahead, and the bowsprit of the enemy (her men had displayed no intention of boarding) carried away the mizzen-shrouds and swept the side. Just then an officer bravely stood upon the bulwarks of the English brig, and at the risk of his life shouted out that he had surrendered. He was Lieutenant McDonald, the Penguin’s first lieutenant. At this moment the enemy was swinging clear, Biddle was prepared to give him another broadside, and with difficulty could he restrain his crew, as the Penguin certainly had fired after Lieutenant McDonald had said he had surrendered. One of the last shots had struck Captain Biddle, wounding him severely in the neck. In fact, throughout the action he was almost unrecognizable, because of wounds which he had received from splinters in his face. Several times his men had asked him to go below.
It was exactly twenty-two minutes from the beginning of the action to the time when the Penguin was boarded by a boat from the Hornet. The former vessel proved to be one of the strongest vessels of her class, mounting 16 32-pound carronades, 2 long sixes, and a 12-pound carronade on her topgallant forecastle, with swivels on the capstan and in the tops; she had a spare port forward so as to fire both of her long guns on a side. When she had sailed from England on the 1st of September she was manned by a picked crew, that was afterwards reinforced by marines taken from the Medway, a seventy-four. Out of one hundred and thirty-two persons that formed her crew she lost fourteen killed and twenty-eight wounded, among the latter number being her commander, Captain Dickinson. Not a single round shot struck the hull of the Hornet, but her sides were filled with grape and her sails and rigging much cut. She had but one man killed and eleven wounded. The Penguin was so badly riddled that she sank, it not being worth the while to attempt to save her. But the Hornet, after obtaining a new set of sails, was ready for service without going home for repairs or refitting. The English journals, in commenting on this fact, advocated strongly the adoption of the American system of gunnery instruction, to which a Baltimore paper replied that the only thing they (the British) needed to be taught was “to shoot Yankee fashion—viz., straighter and more often.”