A Typical Nassau Fort—Fort Fincastle.
From a photograph by Rau.
The next exploit of note was that of Capt. John Barry, who, while in command of the brig Lexington, had had an honorable career. It will be remembered that the command of the Effingham, then building in the Delaware, was given to him and that the British captured Philadelphia before the ship could get away to sea. To keep the ship out of the British hands she was moved up the river to White Hill, New Jersey, and by order of Mr. Hopkinson of the Navy Board was sunk. Barry and Hopkinson had a very loud dispute over the sinking of the Effingham, for Barry was confident that, with the ten guns already on board and the thirteen guns on the frigate Washington that was in company with her, a good fight could be made against any of the force the British were able to send. Hopkinson became personal in his remarks, and Barry’s Irish blood got hot, and some things not quite courteous were said in return; but Barry, to his great disgust, had to sink the ship, and afterwards, on the order of Congress, withdraw the offensive remarks, although time had proved him entirely right in the matter of sinking the ship.
However, while charges were pending against him in this matter, he led a boat expedition down the river, carrying four rowboats manned by twenty-seven men, all told, past the British ships and soldiers at Philadelphia, and arrived safely off Port Penn, which was then in the hands of the Americans. On the opposite side of the river lay two ships, the Mermaid and the Kitty, with two others not named, laden under convoy of the large schooner Alert armed with ten guns. The ships were loaded with food supplies for the British at Philadelphia.
The run past Philadelphia had been made at night, of course, and so Port Penn was reached in broad daylight. But in spite of the fact that the British were already astir and the Americans in plain view, Barry with his gallant band made a dash at the schooner, and before the British could rally for a defence clambered over the rail, cutlass in hand.
At that the British dropped everything and fled below, leaving Barry to put on the hatches and keep them there. In view of the many occasions on which the British historians charge the American sailors with cowardice it must be told here that this “wild Irishman” with his twenty-seven men beat down under the hatches one major, two captains, three lieutenants, ten soldiers, and 100 seamen and marines—he captured 116 armed men with just twenty-seven.
When he had secured them he stripped and burned the transports, and carried the schooner over to Port Penn. This was on February 26, 1778.
The British sent a frigate and a sloop-of-war down the river to recapture the schooner, and so, finding he could not get her away to sea, Barry was obliged to destroy the vessel, which he did by pointing his guns down her hatch and shooting holes through her bottom. But he had in the meantime for two months patrolled the lower Delaware and cut off the British supplies to such an extent that there was actual suffering in the British camp. He gave them a taste, at least, of what Washington’s brave hosts were suffering that winter at Valley Forge. He returned to White Hill by travelling through the forest that then surrounded Philadelphia.
Having by this effort once more commanded the attention of the authorities, he was sent to the Raleigh at Boston, and on September 25, 1778, sailed away with two merchant ships in convoy. Three days later he was a wanderer in the unbroken forests of Maine.