The Second War with England, Vol. 2 of 2

by Joel Tyler Headley

Before daylight, next morning, he discovered a sail ahead, and two hours later two more, and when daylight made more distant objects visible, four vessels were seen, crowding all sail in chase. The President was heavily laden for a long voyage, which with the damage she had received on the bar, impeded very much her sailing. Still, with a stiff breeze, she might have distanced her pursuers, for with the wind light and baffling, the nearest vessel, the Majestic, a razee, was thrown astern. But the Endymion, forty, the next nearest vessel, evidently outsailed her, and was fast closing. Decatur then called all hands to lighten the ship. The anchors were cut away, provisions, cables, spars, boats, and every thing on which hands could be laid were thrown overboard, and the sails kept wet from the royals down, to hold the tantalizing wind. It was impossible in such hasty unloading to keep the vessel trim, and while it was being done she very probably sailed slower than before. The wind, however, was so light, that both frigates made slow headway, and it was not till the middle of the afternoon that the Endymion closed sufficiently to open her fire. The President answered with stern guns, and a running fight was kept up till five o'clock, when the former was within half gun-shot and on the quarter of the latter, which, of course, could not bring a gun to bear. Decatur, in this position, bore the fire of the frigate for half an hour, when he resolved to carry her by boarding, and escape. But the Endymion kept her advantageous position, so that he could not carry his bold and gallant resolution into effect, and as a last resort he determined at dusk to close, and so cripple her before the rest of the vessels arrived, that she must abandon the pursuit. Coming up abeam he poured in his broadsides, and for two hours and a half, running free all the time, the two vessels kept up a close and heavy cannonade. At half-past eight the Endymion was completely dismantled, while the President was under royal studding sails, and able to choose her own position. Twenty minutes more would have finished the English frigate, for she was too much cut up to be manageable; but the other vessels were now close at hand, and the President hauled up to resume her course. In doing this the vessel was exposed to a raking broadside, but not a gun was fired. She then crowded all sail, but at eleven o'clock was overhauled by the Pomone and Tenedos and Majestic, the former of which poured in a broadside within musket shot. Resistance, in the President's crippled state was hopeless, and the flag was struck. Decatur surrendered his sword to the commander of the Majestic, nearly four hours before the Endymion came up, and yet the captain of the latter claimed the victory, and to this day the arrogant assertion finds endorsers in England. One vessel goes out of an action with royal studding sails set and surrenders to a superior force, so far from the spot where it took place that it requires nearly four hours steady sailing for the other to get up, and yet the latter is declared the victor![11]

This absurd pretence, however, was completely set at rest by a document signed by the officers of the Pomona, and published at Bermuda, whither the fleet sailed. After giving the details of the chase, they say the running fight between the President and Endymion ceased "at half-past eight, the Endymion falling astern—Pomona passing her at half-past eight. At eleven, being within gun-shot of the President," &c. "At three-quarters past twelve the Endymion came up," &c.

Both these vessels were dismasted in a hurricane before reaching Bermuda, six days after. The Peacock, Hornet, and Tom Bowline, put to sea and sailed for the island of Triston d'Acunha, the place of rendezvous appointed by Decatur. The Peacock and Tom Bowline arrived first. The Hornet having parted company in chase of a vessel, did not come in till the 23d of March. 1815. Just as she was about to anchor, the watch aft sung out "Sail ho!" The sails were immediately sheeted home again, and the Hornet bore swiftly down towards the stranger. The latter did not shun the combat, but coming to, set her colors and fired a challenge gun. The vessel was the Penguin, of the size and metal of the Hornet, with some additional equipments, which made her of superior force. There was not the difference of a dozen men in the crews. A more decisive single combat could not have been arranged, if the sole purpose of it had been to test the seamanship and real practical superiority of the American navy, for the Penguin had been fitted up and sent out for the sole purpose of encountering and capturing the Wasp, a heavier and newer vessel than the Hornet.

There was no manœuvring—from the first gun to the last, it was a steady broadside to broadside engagement, the vessels gradually drifting nearer as they fired. The Hornet was wrapped in flame from stem to stern, so incessant were her discharges, and in fifteen minutes the commander of the Penguin, finding that he would soon be a total wreck, put up his helm to board, and surged with a heavy crash full on the Hornet's quarter. The first lieutenant immediately called on his men to board, but they would not follow him. The American crew then wished to board, in turn, but Captain Biddle, seeing that his guns were rending the enemy in pieces, restrained their ardor, and recommenced firing. The sea was heavy, and as the two vessels rose and fell together on the huge swell, the strain was so great that the Penguin carried away the Hornet's mizen rigging and spanker boom, and swung round against her quarter. While in this position, an English officer cried out that he surrendered. Captain Biddle then ordered the firing to cease, and leaping on the taffrail, inquired if the vessel had struck. Two marines on the enemy's forecastle levelled their pieces at him and fired—the ball of one entering his neck, inflicting a painful wound. Enraged at this treacherous act, the crew of the Hornet poured in a sudden volley of musketry, which stretched the two marines dead on the deck. In the same moment the vessels parted, the Hornet forging ahead, carrying the enemy's bowsprit and foremast with her. The latter then wore, and was about to pour in a raking broadside, when twenty men rushed to the side of the ship, lifting up their hands and calling for quarter. It was with the greatest difficulty Captain Biddle could restrain his men, so excited were they at the attempt on their commander's life.

The loss of the Penguin in this short action was forty-two killed and wounded, while the Hornet had but a single man killed and only ten wounded. Among the latter was Lieutenant (since Commodore) Conner, who, though helpless and bleeding, refused to leave the deck till the enemy struck. This disparity shows in a striking manner the superior gunnery of the American navy.

The Penguin was dreadfully cut up, and Captain Biddle, unable to man her, scuttled and sunk her. Converting the Tom Bowline into a cartel to take the prisoners to St. Salvador, he, with Captain Harrington of the Peacock, waited the arrival of the President. But these two commanders soon received information which convinced them that Decatur had, in all probability, fallen into the hands of the enemy. April 13. They, therefore, soon as the time fixed by him had expired, proceeded on the original cruise, steering for the Indian Seas. On the 27th, the Peacock, which was ahead, made signal that a strange vessel was in sight, when all sail was set in chase. At night it fell calm, but a stiff breeze arising with the sun, the chase recommenced and continued till near three o'clock, when the Peacock, about six miles ahead, appeared to be moving cautiously, as if suspicious that all was not right. From the first, the chase was supposed to be a homeward bound East Indiaman, as they were now in the track of those vessels. The sailors of the Hornet were consequently very much elated with the prospect of so rich a prize, declaring that they would carpet the berth deck with India silk, and murmuring that the Peacock sailed so much faster, as she would have the first chance at the plunder.

These pleasant anticipations suffered a sudden collapse when the Peacock, at half-past three, signalled that the stranger was an enemy and a line-of-battle ship. Notwithstanding the danger, there was something inconceivably ludicrous in the blank consternation that fell on the ship, exhibited in rueful countenances, the long-drawn whistle or laconic emphatic expression. The next moment, however, all was bustle and confusion—quick and sharp orders rung over the vessel, she was hauled upon the wind, and made off as fast as wind and sail could bear her. The Peacock, being a very fast sailer, soon left the enemy behind. Not so with the Hornet; although she spread every yard of canvass that would draw, it was evident by eight at night the man-of-war was gaining on her. An hour after all hands were turned to to lighten the ship. An anchor and cable first went over with some heavy spare spars and rigging. The ward-room was then scuttled to get at the kentledge, twelve tons of which were thrown overboard. Still the enemy gained, and his huge proportions loomed threateningly through the gloom, filling the crew of the gallant little Hornet with the keenest anxiety. It was a state of painful suspense to Captain Biddle and his officers, and they watched with sinking hearts the steady approach of their formidable foe. At day dawn he was within gun-shot, and soon after, hoisting to the mizen-top-gallant-mast English colors and a rear-admiral's flag, he opened with his bow guns. Captain Biddle then ordered the remaining anchors cut away, the cables heaved overboard, together with more kentledge, shot, provision, the launch and six guns. The firing was kept up for four hours, most of the shot overreaching the Hornet. Perceiving at length, that his firing deadened the wind, and hence his headway, the enemy ceased it at 11 o'clock, and soon again began to overhaul the chase. Captain Biddle then gave the reluctant order to throw over all the remaining guns but one, with the muskets, cutlasses, etc., in short, every thing above and below that could lighten the ship. Still his formidable antagonist steadily gained upon him, and at noon was within three quarters of a mile, when he opened with round and grape shot and shells, which dashed the spray about the little Hornet, yet most marvellously missed her. The water was smooth and it seemed that every shot would strike, yet only three hit the vessel. At this critical period of the chase the excitement of the crew was intense—the sails were watched with the keenest solicitude, while the sailors were ordered to lie down on the quarter deck to trim the vessel. It was impossible that the Hornet's spars and sails could long escape this close and incessant cannonade; and Captain Biddle, knowing that the first mishap to either must be the signal to strike his flag, called his fatigued crew about him, and after commending their good conduct in the long chase, expressed the hope they would still behave with the propriety which had always marked their character, now that their capture was almost certain. Those gallant tars saw the quivering lip of their noble commander when he spoke of capture, and scarcely a dry eye was seen on deck. He resolved, however, not to cease his efforts so long as a ray of hope remained, and held on his sluggish course amid the raining shot, his eye now turned aloft to see if the rigging and spars were still safe, and now towards the horizon that, to his delight, was getting black and squally.

At length, after enduring this firing for two hours, expecting every moment to be crippled, he saw with irrepressible joy the wind change to a favorable quarter and freshen. His vessel then began to creep away from his pursuer. As the distance increased between them, joy and hope lighted up the countenances of all on board the Hornet, and the gathering squalls and rising sea were hailed as deliverers. At sunset the man-of-war was three miles astern. In the intervals of the squalls his huge proportions could be seen all night long against the sky, still crowding sail in pursuit. But the Hornet was now running nine knots an hour, and by daylight had gained so much that the stranger, a few hours after, abandoned the chase.

Her escape seemed miraculous; for when the man-of-war opened his fire the second time upon her he was as near as the United States ever got to the Macedonian before the latter was a total wreck.

Without guns or shot, stripped of every thing, Captain Biddle retraced his steps and reached New York the last day of July.