CHAPTER XVI.
ON WATER.
The English navy was the pride of that great nation in 1812, as it is now. When war with the United States was discussed, the idea that America without a navy, and with but few if any trained naval officers could cope with England, caused the Briton to smile; but a great surprise was in store. The first American victories were on the high seas. Tradition, discipline, ships and training seemed all of no avail. While the English were carrying everything on land, where it was supposed they were weakest, they were losing everything on water, where thought to be strongest. Everybody was surprised. They supposed the first three or four American victories were accidents; but as success after success continued to follow the American arms at sea, they were dumfounded. England's boasted navy had lost its power.
The first naval engagement of any consequence was on August 19, 1812. Captain Hull of the United States frigate Constitution captured an English frigate, The Guerriere, after a hard fought battle. The Guerriere had made herself very obnoxious in her way of challenging American vessels. In this engagement she lost seventy-nine killed and wounded, while the Constitution lost but thirteen. There were ten impressed Americans on The Guerriere. On the 7th of September, the United States frigate Essex captured the Alert in a fight of eight minutes. The American sloop-of-war Wasp, on the 18th of October, encountered the British sloop-of-war Frolic, a much larger and stronger ship. The fight was terrible, and only three officers and one seaman on the Frolic remained unhurt; almost a hundred were killed and wounded, while the Americans lost but ten. The Wasp did not long enjoy her triumph, however. On that same evening the British man-of-war Poicters, Captain Beresford, captured the Wasp and her prize.
The phrase "Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," borne on the banner at the masthead of the Essex, soon became the war-cry of the American seaman.
The 25th of October, 1812, one week after the victory and loss of the gallant Wasp, dawned bright and clear on the English frigate Macedonian sailing westward of Canary Islands. Little change had come to the Macedonian since Fernando Stevens had been transferred from her to the sloop. At this time there were but three impressed Americans on the Macedonian, Sukey, a negro sailor called Tawney and a man named Rogers.
Notwithstanding their difference in race and social standing, Sukey and Tawney were attached to each other. Both were Americans, and both loved the star-spangled banner.
It was a holy Sabbath morning, and every sailor, according to Captain Garden's orders, was dressed in his best, when the cry of, "Sail ho!" rang out from the masthead. It was ascertained that the stranger was an American, and the ship was cleared for action. As the Macedonian bore down on the American--her men at their quarters--Sukey and Tawney, who happened to be stationed at the quarter-deck battery, respectfully accosted the captain, as he passed them in his rapid promenade, his spyglass under his arm.
"Say, look here," said Sukey, "we are not Englishmen; we don't want to be in the game. It's a bitter thing to lift a hand against the flag of that country which harbors our parents. Please release us from this contest and let us remain neutral during the fight; I tell you, I don't want to be in the game."