CHAPTER XI
THE PRIVATEERS OF 1812
PROPERTY AFLOAT AS A PLEDGE OF PEACE—FOREIGN AGGRESSION HAD TAUGHT THE AMERICANS HOW TO BUILD AND SAIL SWIFT CRUISERS—ODD NAMES—THE FIRST PRIZES—COMMODORE JOSHUA BARNEY AND THE ROSSIE—A FAMOUS CRUISE—SOME RICH PRIZES WERE CAPTURED, BUT ONLY A FEW OF THE PRIVATEERS MADE MONEY—BEAT OFF A WAR-SHIP THAT THREW SIX TIMES HER WEIGHT OF METAL—A BATTLE IN SIGHT OF LA GUIRA.
Among the people of every civilized nation the possession of property by an individual is, as has often been noted, a pledge of good citizenship. His selfish interest in his property, bluntly speaking, tends to make him behave himself becomingly. And one does not have to study the stories of history very long to see that the same rule applies in a way to nations. The possession of property liable to be lost through war is a pledge of peace on the part of the nation owning it. And of all such property there is none that makes a stronger pledge of peace than the over-sea ship with its cargo. In these last days of the nineteenth century, writers a-plenty have been found who, forgetting or failing to see this fact, have urged that the United States should agree with other nations that in case of war the private property afloat belonging to the enemy should be exempted from capture and destruction. They have urged that the nations who send ships to sea be exempted from this pledge of peace. Or, to put the matter in another way, they have urged the American people to declare to the aggressive nations of the earth:
“If you wish to go to war with us we will promise you, as an inducement to you to do so, that we will not harm your private property afloat.”
One has only to state the proposition clearly to show its absurdity. The doctrines of the Prince of Peace are never so beautiful as when they are in accord with one’s business interests—we are never so horrified by the wickedness of war as when we consider the destruction it would bring upon our property! Can we, indeed, view with complacency the proposition to sink a ship with five hundred unprepared souls by means of a torpedo, and yet shrink from the thought of preserving peace by the threat of capturing and destroying all of the property of an enemy that is found afloat after war is declared?
It is interesting to an American to observe that of all peoples of the earth the British are the most urgent in their desire that the nations shall agree to do away with this pledge of peace—the English, who are dependent upon over-sea commerce for their bread, who have greater interests on the high seas than any other people, and who are the most aggressive of all people in grasping the territories of the earth. It is interesting to an American because this British wish is a tradition growing out of the damage done by American privateers to British commerce in the wars for American independence and recognition as a nation. As was said of the privateers of the first war, a full volume would be needed to adequately describe all of the doings of these “militia of the sea,” but space must be given here to a number of actions fought by the privateers, not only because they were most brilliant, but because they illustrate the character of the American sailor of those days.
Ship’s Papers of the William Bayard in 1810, signed by Napoleon.
From the original at the Naval Institute, Annapolis.
No nation was ever as well fitted for a militia contest afloat as was the American in June, 1812. For years her merchants had been harassed by the oppressive legislation of England and France. The American ship that went to sea, no matter what her cargo or destination, was in danger from the cruisers of both nations at once. Even though her voyage was one that must meet the approval of the European courts in Admiralty, the ship was liable to be seized and carried into port until a judge could pass upon the charge brought by her captors that she was violating some law; and so her voyage would be ruined by delay. But freight rates were high. To deliver one cargo was to pay for the ship, and more too, in profits. The American merchants were enterprising and willing to take risks. And so vessels were built for the trade, brigs and schooners that for that day were marvels of speed. Their enormous spars spread a cloud of canvas so great that as one drove along before a smart gale the long, lean, deep-keeled hull was all but wholly hidden from view—the canvass looked like a fog-cloud drifting swiftly over sea. Better still was their pace when beating to windward, for with yards sharp up and sails down flat, only the crack ships of the enemy could keep them in sight for a day, and few, indeed, could overhaul them. With these over-sparred ships the Yankee sailors were entirely familiar. They carried enormous crews, and the men were proud of their ships and of their own ability to make or take in sail.