In a search for the reasons for this curious condition of affairs it is found that the success of the inland-water steamers was the primary cause of the American failure at sea. The men who designed the sea-going steamers had been trained in their art by designing, first of all, steamers for inland waters. Because these inland-water steamers succeeded so well, it was entirely natural that similar proportions should be given to the engines that were to be used upon deep water. It was also natural to model the hulls as nearly as possible like the hulls on smooth waters. At the same time it was believed, incredible as the statement may seem now, that an "elastic" hull—one that bends to the lift of the waves as a rope does—was not only swifter but safer than a stiff one.
A paragraph as to the durability of the inland-water steamers will now prove instructive. In the report of Israel D. Andrews on "Colonial and Lake Trade" (Sen. Ex. Doc. 112, 32 Cong. 1 Sess.), it is said (p. 665) that "the period of the natural life of a steamboat" in use on the inland waters of the United States at that time (1851) was only "three and a half to four years." This statement included the steamers in use on the Great Lakes, which had much longer lives than those on the rivers.
With all these facts in mind, one sees why the deep-water American steamers failed. Led on by the success of the river steamers, the designers turned out engines of the lightest possible weight consistent with the greatest power, and then bolted them fast to the frames of hulls that were "elastic"—would yield to the waves like a rope. Not many of these steamers went to pieces as the Home did; good seamanship saved them from that fate; but neither good seamanship nor any economy practised afloat or ashore could make them pay dividends in the face of the enormous expense due to the wear and tear of machinery. Machinery built for speed could pay dividends on the inland waters because the steamers had no competition except that which they created among themselves, and that lasted for short periods only. The only competitors on the river-banks were stage-coaches and big wagons that were driven over the worst roads in the civilized world. The inland-water steamers charged what prices they pleased. At sea the steamers with their unfit machinery had to compete with the swiftest, most comfortable, and in every way the most economical sailing packets in the world. And until the designers had learned the requirements of a sea-going steamship, the sailing packets won.
CHAPTER X
PRIVATEERS, PIRATES, AND SLAVERS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
WHEN seen in its true light, one of the most curious and interesting chapters in the history of the American merchant marine is that relating to the men who, having the might, used it to take from those who were weaker not only property but liberty and life; but the reader who supposes that superior ability, natural or acquired, gives him the right to take more of the good things of life than his less-favored neighbor receives, will scarcely comprehend the facts.
The fighting done by the American merchantmen who were commissioned as privateers during the War of 1812 has been well described by our histories of the navy, but the story of one battle is worth recalling briefly because it may well stand in some respects for the story of the entire fleet. On March 26, 1815, the privateer schooner General Armstrong, Captain Samuel Chester Reid, anchored in Fayal Roads, in the Azores. As night came on, a British squadron, bound for New Orleans, came into the roads, and on seeing the Armstrong, sent four boats full of men to capture her. A well-directed broadside from the privateer sent them in haste back to their ships, but a little after midnight the enemy came again in twelve boats, carrying more than 400 men. Each boat was armed with a cannon. The Armstrong had 90 men, and she mounted a long 24-pounder on a pivot with four 9-pounders in each broadside.
When the flotilla came within point-blank range, Captain Reid opened a fire that would have beaten back any other civilized enemy, but this veteran host pulled steadily in until the boats were alongside from stem to stern, and then they rose up, as one man, and strove to board the low-lying schooner. But with sword and pike and battle-axe the privateersmen fought not only for life but to avenge the wrongs that had been suffered by American seamen at the hands of press-gangs, and even British valor could not face them. One of the defeated wrote that the "Americans fought more like blood-thirsty savages than anything else." We may believe that they were thrilled with the joy of battle, and if a modern, peace-loving American is ever permitted to envy any of his countrymen who have had part in any battle described in the histories of the nation, the men of the General Armstrong will come to his mind first of all. But a liner, a frigate, and a brig were at hand to back the boats, and at last Reid had to burn his ship.
The gallant fight and the ultimate loss stand for much good fighting without profit in the work of our private armed ships during the War of 1812. Our histories, almost without exception, have overstated the success of the privateers and their influence upon the course of the war. A few of these ships—a very few—made enormous profits; the others made insignificant gains or actual losses. Our histories laud the work of the few that really succeeded; they ignore all that failed, save only as the reader is left to infer that all, or nearly all, did well. Thus the fact that the Rossie, of Baltimore, Captain Joshua Barney, in a single cruise, captured vessels supposed to be worth more than $1,500,000 is told in every history; the equally well-authenticated fact that Barney's share of the plunder amounted to only $1000 (see Mary Barney's Memoir), because the much-vaunted prizes were either destroyed at sea, or were sold for little or nothing in port,—this fact is deliberately omitted.
In the matter of net gains the Rossie stands as a type of the successful privateers, with a few exceptions. On November 23, 1812, less than six months after war was declared, and while the successful privateers were securing the best of their prizes, the privateer owners of Boston, New York, and Norfolk united in a petition to Congress, begging help through legislation because captured goods sold for such low prices that no profit was made by even the successful privateers. The captured ships, it was said, could not be sold at any price, even when fit for use as privateers. In short, "the profits of private naval warfare are by no means equivalent to the hazard." (Rep. Com. Ways and Means, December 12, p. 3.)
In Guernsey's New York City During the War of 1812 is a list of the privateers sailing from that city—120 in all. Of these, 57 took not one prize. It is to be presumed that 21 of them made some money, because they took at least 5 prizes, while 7 took at least 15, and it may be supposed that they did well. But when it is remembered that in those days a ship commonly paid for herself in one voyage in ordinary trade, it cannot be said that privateering was of any special benefit except to three or four that took many prizes.