Another embarrassment existed. Conner was a brave, able, accomplished, excellent man, but for a generation his business had been that of a navigator. His duty had been to go his rounds in safety, and he did it well. Nobody could handle a frigate better in a storm. He looked carefully after the health of his men, too. In thoughtfulness, prudence, judgment and fidelity he left nothing to be desired. But his constitution had never been robust, and the effects of an old wound, thirty years of service in a southern climate and the torture of neuralgia had now made him a confirmed invalid, worn and wasted, and subject at intervals to almost maddening pain. His powers both of thought and of execution were impaired. Naturally such a man did not wish to risk either men or ships; and, lacking the vigor for quick decisions and powerful action, he could not wisely involve himself in dangerous complications. On the outbreak of war he should have retired; but he knew that he stood high in favor at Washington, Bancroft had assured him that he could retain the command indefinitely, and no doubt he failed to realize the situation. More or less well, however, shore operations were carried on, and our next business will be to trace them from the beginning.[14]
THE HOME SQUADRON
Owing to the state of our relations with Mexico the Home Squadron concentrated at Vera Cruz in February, 1846, and later, in accordance with instructions to coöperate with Taylor, Conner presented himself at Point Isabel in time to safeguard that position during the battles on the Rio Grande, and assist in occupying Burrita. When the war bill passed, his forces consisted of the steamer Mississippi, which could tow a number of small craft at full speed, the steamer Princeton, a swift vessel designed by the celebrated Ericsson, the handsome frigate Raritan, which flew the broad blue pennant of the Commodore at the main, the frigates Cumberland and Potomac, the sloops Falmouth, John Adams and St. Mary’s, the brigs Porpoise and Somers and the schooner Flirt, with probably some 2700 men. Leaving the Brazos about the twentieth of May Conner sailed with a part of the squadron for Pensacola, while other vessels did blockade work or scouted along the coast as far as Yucatan. In June Captain Saunders of the St. Mary’s, lying off Tampico bar, opened fire twice on the Mexicans, who seemed to be erecting works, and made a bold, well-planned effort against three gunboats anchored inside the mouth of the Pánuco, which only circumstances defeated. By August the composition of the squadron and its distribution changed somewhat; three small schooner-gunboats had arrived; but there was no material difference in strength.[15]
Meanwhile Conner had in mind the small, handy Mexican vessels then lying in Alvarado River, which did nobody any good there, and were capable of assisting in his work materially. It seemed very proper to seize or at least destroy them. From residents of Alvarado, who traded with the Americans, useful information was doubtless obtained; and the master of a captured launch, well fed and well frightened, gave correct details regarding the bar, channel and shipping. A redoubt stood near the beach, but it contained no large guns; and, although warned by the questioning of the launch’s master, the Mexicans gathered no forces except some 200 militia in the town and about as many more several hours distant up the river. The situation invited a bold stroke.[16]
Accordingly the Mississippi and Princeton, two frigates and the schooner-gunboats—each of these mounting one piece—dropped anchor in line opposite the fort at eleven o’clock in the morning, August 7, 1846, and the steamers opened a fire, to which the lightness of the Mexican ordnance permitted no reply. The bombardment continued more or less actively for about six hours, but without effect. Owing to the swift current of the river, swollen by heavy rains, it seemed hardly possible to row up to the town, and finally the gunboats were placed within musket range of the shore some distance north of the fort. Apparently the intention was to land under the protection of our artillery. The Mexicans therefore opened a small-arms fire from the sand-hills, to which our cannon and the muskets on the gunboats replied; but in about half an hour darkness put an end to the operations. Bad weather came on immediately; the open roadstead was unsafe; and after nightfall, although it had been proposed to resume the attack the next day, Conner withdrew with his disgusted men to Antón Lizardo.[16]
Alvarado, Mexico
The following month one of the bureau chiefs gave him to understand that the administration wished something done for the newspapers to make a “noise” about, and another attempt upon the same position was planned. By this time the enemy had improved the defences, and mounted a heavy pivot gun on a high knoll; and a letter from one of our sailors, picked up on the beach, gave them ample notice of the attack. These facts did not signify materially, however, for the Americans realized they must positively win a victory this time, and braced themselves for whatever might occur. A little after sunrise, October 15, the Mississippi, the Vixen (a small steamer carrying three guns which had recently joined the squadron), the McLane (a steamer loaned by the revenue service), the three gunboats, the Nonata (a prize schooner mounting four guns), and a revenue schooner named the Forward arrived off the bar. The plan was to have the Mississippi cannonade with shells, and the other steamers, towing the gunboats, ascend the river.[17]
Everything went wrong, however. The Mississippi produced no effect. Owing to the strength of the current it seemed necessary to have wind, and Conner waited in vain until about 2 o’clock for the usual sea breeze. The bar stood higher than it ordinarily did; and although he, aboard the Vixen, crossed with two gunboats, the McLane grounded, and her section—the larger section—of the force was thrown into the utmost disorder amidst the breakers. Not only did the Mexican fire prove serious, for a shot struck near the wheelhouse of the Vixen, but up the river could be seen another fort, and also Mexican vessels carrying more metal than Conner now had available. He therefore retired across the bar, touching twice; and when at length his other section found itself ready to try once more, he deemed the hour too late. Besides, he now believed the McLane would be unable to go up the river with even one gunboat in tow. Again bad weather came on, and again the expedition withdrew. Officers and men were angry this time as well as disgusted; and although the Mexicans on the ground realized that accidents had saved them, a shout of triumph and encouragement rang through their country.[17]