Twelve Naval Captains / Being a Record of Certain Americans Who Made Themselves Immortal

by Molly Elliot Seawell

Charles Stewart

Charles Stewart was born in Philadelphia in 1778, and entered the merchant service at thirteen years of age. At twenty he had risen to the command of a fine vessel in the India trade, but on the reorganization of the navy in 1798 he was given a naval commission. His rise in the navy was rapid, as he was an accomplished seaman when he joined it. After serving for a short time as a midshipman, he was made the junior lieutenant on the United States, frigate, when she was commissioned at the beginning of hostilities with France. With him on this cruise were Decatur and Somers; and, as Fenimore Cooper aptly says, the noble frigate turned out to be a nursery of heroes.

Stewart began the cruise as fourth, and ended it as first, lieutenant. He was of commanding figure and of pleasing address, and his capacity was such that from the first he was thought likely to distinguish himself.

When the United States was laid up in ordinary, Stewart was given the command of a small schooner, the Experiment. In this little vessel he showed much spirit and enterprise, making many captures, and fighting whenever he had a chance.

Stewart was, like Decatur, of an impetuous and even domineering disposition, and made everybody under him "walk Spanish," as the sailors said. But he himself knew how to obey promptly. Once, having received a peremptory order from his superior officer to report with his ship immediately, Stewart sailed, towing his mainmast after him, as he had not time to have it fitted and did not choose to wait.

In 1803 he was sent to the Mediterranean with the Siren, a beautiful little cruiser, as a part of Commodore Preble's squadron destined to reduce Tripoli. Stewart was the senior among the commodore's "schoolboy captains," and second in command to Commodore Preble himself.

Although he had no opportunity of performing deeds like Decatur's in the Tripolitan war, his general good conduct was highly praised, and the Siren was brilliantly engaged in all the glorious actions of that famous time. At the beginning of the war of 1812 Stewart was given the command of the Constellation, frigate, which shared with the Constitution the reputation of being a lucky ship,—lucky in meeting and whipping her enemies when the force was anything like equal, and lucky in running away when they were too many for her. Stewart took command of this noble ship at Annapolis in 1813. He was ordered to Norfolk, and took the ship to Hampton Roads. He arrived and anchored one night, and next morning at daylight there were five British men-of-war in sight of him. The Constellation endeavored to get out of the way, and the British ships chased her, but, the wind failing, both the pursuers and the pursued were becalmed. Stewart, though, remembering the Constitution's escape by kedging from a British squadron, concluded it would never do that the Constellation should not succeed equally as well; so, putting out his boats, the frigate was kedged up toward Norfolk, until the tide fell, and she took the ground at Seawell's Point, not far from the present Fort Monroe. The mud was soft, the ship's bottom was hard, and the tide would rise; so Stewart felt no alarm about her. The British squadron were also waiting for the tide, but they did not think that Stewart would attempt to get his ship up the narrow and tortuous channel to Norfolk.

They did not know Stewart, though. As soon as the darkness of the winter night came, and the tide began to lift the ship out of the mud, he sent pilots ahead to buoy the channel with lights. The ship, helped somewhat by the wind, but towed by the boats, would go a mile or two up to the nearest buoy, when that light would be put out, and she would be headed for the next one. So quietly was this done that the British never suspected what was going on. But when daylight came there was no Constellation to be seen; she was safe in the Elizabeth River.