The Capture of Washington.
From an old wood-cut.
A small-boat fight well worth a paragraph occurred on June 12, 1813, in Chesapeake waters, when all the boats of the British frigate Narcissus were sent, under Lieutenant Cririe, to attack the little United States schooner Surveyor, commanded by Sailing master William S. Travis, who had but fifteen men and boys, all told, under him. The Surveyor was lying in York River at the time. The attack was made at night, and the guns of the schooner were useless, because the enemy came at her from points where broadside guns could not be made to bear. Nevertheless, Mr. Travis defended his ship, holding his fire of small-arms until the British were within a few yards. The one discharge killed three of the enemy and wounded seven, a remarkably deadly fire for night-work—but the British host came on, and before the American weapons could be reloaded, the weight of numbers overpowered the gallant little crew. Lieutenant Cririe was so impressed by the bearing of the Americans that he returned the sword of Travis with a highly complimentary letter.
A very interesting fight was made by the Mosquito fleet on July 14, 1813. The American schooners Scorpion and Asp, of the Chesapeake Bay defence fleet, each armed with three small guns, were chased by a flotilla of boats from the British blockading squadron. The Scorpion was fleet-winged and escaped up the bay, but the Asp was too slow for that, and took refuge in Yeocomico River. The British followed and were beaten off, but they returned in fire-boats with about one hundred men, and, enraged at this first failure, gave no quarter. The Asp was commanded by Midshipman Sigourney. He was shot through the body at the first attack, but remained on deck in a sitting posture to inspire his men when the enemy returned. And when the enemy had killed or driven overboard all the Americans except Sigourney, a British marine deliberately put his musket to Sigourney’s head and fired, blowing his brains out. Sigourney had served under Lawrence in the Hornet when she sank the Peacock, but it is unlikely that the Englishman knew this fact. After setting fire to the Asp, the British went away, and then the Americans returned on board and extinguished the fire unmolested.
It is worth noting that on a considerable number of occasions during this war the Englishmen gave no quarter—it is worth noting as showing how greatly they were exasperated by their numerous defeats afloat. Indeed, after Barney’s attack on the Loire and Narcissus, British sailors (who were, it must be remembered, commanded by Admiral Sir George Cockburn), in their landing parties, not only robbed the defenceless citizens, but assaulted the women who happened to fall into their hands. And when they captured Washington, they not only destroyed such property as might be destroyed legitimately, but they repeated the universally execrated crime of Alexandria—they repeated the crime of which the fanatical priests of Spain were guilty among the civilized people of Yucatan—they deliberately burned the national library. The Knighted Admiral with his own hands took part in this work of destruction. Allen honors this British officer with a full-page engraving, in his history of the British Navy, only fifteen others being so distinguished in Volume II. of that work.
This is a chapter of small-boat fights, and it is of particular interest to Americans because of the great courage and good fighting ability usually displayed by the Yankee crews. The little schooner Alligator was one that made a good name. Under Sailing-master Bassett, when lying at Cole’s Island, near Charleston, she was attacked at night by six boats loaded with small cannon and seamen. She had but forty men on board, but after a half hour’s fight they drove away the enemy. The British did not report their loss, but one may get an idea of their disorder when they fled, from the fact that one of the attacking cutters was found aground on North Edisto next day, badly cut up, and with the bodies of an officer and a common seaman lying dead nearby. The others had been too much demoralized to care for the wounded, and these two, after the boat drifted ashore, had left it, vainly seeking help, and had died together.
Last of all will be told the story of Sailing-master Lawrence Kearny’s attack on the men of the British frigate Hebrus, near Charleston. The Hebrus had sent a lot of men and boats ashore for water, and they had landed out of gunshot from their frigate. So Kearny, with three barges, went after the water-party. The Americans were seen afloat from the Hebrus, and signals were at once set and guns fired to recall the water-party. Two boats of that party got outside clear, but a shift of wind enabled the Americans to get between the frigate and a large tender that had been of the water-party.
At that the Hebrus opened fire on the American barges and signalled her two water-boats to return to the aid of the tender. And when her water-boats failed to obey these signals she opened fire on them as well. So near was the frigate at this time that a shot took off the head of a man sitting beside Kearny, but he held fast on his course and captured the tender (a schooner, armed with a carronade and six brass swivels), the big launch of the Hebrus and forty men, all of which were carried off from under the guns of the enraged Englishman. Nor was that all, for a few days later Kearny manned the captured launch with twenty-five men, and rowing out alongside the tender (a schooner) of the British ship Severn, he boarded her in spite of the resistance of her crew of more than thirty men, and succeeded in taking her and her crew into port also. “Handsomer exploits of the sort were not performed in the war.”
And the story of the gun-boats is not completed, as will appear in the account of the Navy’s part in the battle of New Orleans.