It is worth while mentioning as an instance of how utterly untrustworthy James is in dealing with American affairs, that he says (p. 476) the Constitution had now "what the Americans would call a bad crew," whereas, in her previous battles, all her men had been "picked." Curiously enough, this is the exact reverse of the truth. In no case was an American ship manned with a "picked" crew, but the nearest approach to such was the crew the Constitution carried in this and the next cruise, when "she probably possessed as fine a crew as ever manned a frigate. They were principally New England men, and it has been said of them that they were almost qualified to fight the ship without her officers." [Footnote: Cooper, ii, 463.] The statement that such men, commanded by one of the bravest and most skilful captains of our navy, would shrink from attacking a greatly inferior foe, is hardly worth while denying; and, fortunately, such denial is needless, Captain Stewart's account being fully corroborated in the "Memoir of Admiral Durham," written by his nephew, Captain Murray, London, 1846.
The Constitution arrived off the port of Marblehead on April 3d, and at 7 A.M. fell in with the two British 38-gun frigates Junon, Captain Upton, and Tenedos, Captain Parker. "The American frigate was standing to the westward with the wind about north by west and bore from the two British frigates about northwest by west. The Junon and Tenedos quickly hauled up in chase, and the Constitution crowded sail in the direction of Marblehead. At 9.30, finding the Tenedos rather gaining upon her, the Constitution started her water and threw overboard a quantity of provisions and other articles. At 11.30 she hoisted her colors, and the two British frigates, who were now dropping slowly in the chase, did the same. At 1.30 P.M. the Constitution anchored in the harbor of Marblehead. Captain Parker was anxious to follow her into the port, which had no defences; but the Tenedos was recalled by a signal from the Junon." [Footnote: James, vi, 479.] Shortly afterward the Constitution again put out, and reached Boston unmolested.
On Jan. 29, 1814, the small U.S. coasting schooner Alligator, of 4 guns and 40 men, Sailing-master R. Basset, was lying at anchor in the mouth of Stone River, S. C., when a frigate and a brig were perceived close inshore near the breakers. Judging from their motions that they would attempt to cut him out when it was dark, Mr. Basset made his preparations accordingly. [Footnote: Letter of Sailing-master Basset, Jan. 31, 1814.] At half-past seven six boats were observed approaching cautiously under cover of the marsh, with muffled oars; on being hailed they cheered and opened with boat carronades and musketry, coming on at full speed; whereupon the Alligator cut her cable and made sail, the wind being light from the southwest; while the crew opened such a heavy fire on the assailants, who were then not thirty yards off, that they stopped the advance and fell astern. At this moment the Alligator grounded, but the enemy had suffered so severely that they made no attempt to renew the attack, rowing off down stream. On board the Alligator two men were killed and two wounded, including the pilot, who was struck down by a grape-shot while standing at the helm; and her sails and rigging were much cut. The extent of the enemy's loss was never known; next day one of his cutters was picked up at North Edisto, much injured and containing the bodies of an officer and a seaman. [Footnote: Letter from Commander J. H. Dent, Feb. 21, 1814.] For his skill and gallantry Mr. Basset was promoted to a lieutenancy, and for a time his exploit put a complete stop to the cutting-out expeditions along that part of the coast. The Alligator herself sank in a squall on July 1st, but was afterward raised and refitted.
It is much to be regretted that it is almost impossible to get at the British account of any of these expeditions which ended successfully for the Americans; all such cases are generally ignored by the British historians; so that I am obliged to rely solely upon the accounts of the victors, who, with the best intentions in the world, could hardly be perfectly accurate.
At the close of 1813 Captain Porter was still cruising in the Pacific.
Early in January the Essex, now with 255 men aboard, made the South American coast, and on the 12th of that month anchored in the harbor of Valparaiso. She had in company a prize, re-christened the Essex Junior, with a crew of 60 men, and 20 guns, 10 long sixes and 10 eighteen-pound carronades. Of course she could not be used in a combat with regular cruisers.
On Feb. 8th, the British frigate Phoebe, 36, Captain James Hilyar, accompanied by the Cherub, 18, Captain Thomas Tudor Tucker, the former carrying 300 and the latter 140 men, [Footnote: They afterward took on board enough men from British merchant-vessels to raise their complements respectively to 320 and 180.] made their appearance, and apparently proposed to take the Essex by a coup de main. They hauled into the harbor on a wind, the Cherub falling to leeward; while the Phoebe made the port quarter of the Essex, and then, putting her helm down, luffed up on her starboard bow, but 10 or 15 feet distant. Porter's crew were all at quarters, the powder-boys with slow matches ready to discharge the guns, the boarders standing by, cutlass in hand, to board in the smoke; every thing was cleared for action on both frigates. Captain Hilyar now probably saw that there was no chance of carrying the Essex by surprise, and, standing on the after-gun, he inquired after Captain Porter's health; the latter returned the inquiry, but warned Hilyar not to fall foul. The British captain then braced back his yards, remarking that if he did fall aboard it would be purely accidental. "Well," said Porter, "you have no business where you are; if you touch a rope-yarn of this ship I shall board instantly." [Footnote: "Life of Farragut," p. 33.] The Phoebe, in her then position, was completely at the mercy of the American ships, and Hilyar, greatly agitated, assured Porter that he meant nothing hostile; and the Phoebe backed down, her yards passing over those of the Essex without touching a rope, and anchored half a mile astern. Shortly afterward the two captains met on shore, when Hilyar thanked Porter for his behavior, and, on his inquiry, assured him that after thus owing his safety to the latter's forbearance, Porter need be under no apprehension as to his breaking the neutrality.
[Illustration: The Essex: a watercolor by Joseph Howard of Salem, circa 1801. (Courtesy Peabody Museum of Salem)]
The British ships now began a blockade of the port. On Feb. 27th, the Phoebe being hove to close off the port, and the Cherub a league to leeward, the former fired a weather-gun; the Essex interpreting this as a challenge, took the crew of the Essex Junior aboard and went out to attack the British frigate. But the latter did not await the combat; she bore up, set her studding-sails, and ran down to the Cherub. The American officers were intensely irritated over this, and American writers have sneered much at "a British 36 refusing combat with an American 32." But the armaments of the two frigates were so wholly dissimilar that it is hard to make comparison. When the fight really took place, the Essex was so crippled and the water so smooth that the British ships fought at their own distance; and as they had long guns to oppose to Porter's carronades, this really made the Cherub more nearly suited to contend with the Essex than the latter was to fight the Phoebe. But when the Essex in fairly heavy weather, with the crew of the Essex Junior aboard, was to windward, the circumstances were very different; she carried as many men and guns as the Phoebe, and in close combat, or in a hand-to-hand struggle, could probably have taken her. Still, Hilyar's conduct in avoiding Porter except when the Cherub was in company was certainly over-cautious, and very difficult to explain in a man of his tried courage.
On March 27th Porter decided to run out of the harbor on the first opportunity, so as to draw away his two antagonists in chase, and let the Essex Junior escape. This plan had to be tried sooner than was expected. The two vessels were always ready, the Essex only having her proper complement of 255 men aboard. On the next day, the 28th, it came on to blow from the south, when the Essex parted her port cable and dragged the starboard anchor to leeward, so she got under way, and made sail; by several trials it had been found that she was faster than the Phoebe, and that the Cherub was very slow indeed, so Porter had little anxiety about his own ship, only fearing for his consort. The British vessels were close in with the weather-most point of the bay, but Porter thought he could weather them, and hauled up for that purpose. Just as he was rounding the outermost point, which, if accomplished, would have secured his safety, a heavy squall struck the Essex, and when she was nearly gunwale under, the main-top-mast went by the board. She now wore and stood in for the harbor, but the wind had shifted, and on account of her crippled condition she could not gain it; so she bore up and anchored in a small bay, three miles from Valparaiso, and half a mile from a detached Chilian battery of one gun, the Essex being within pistol-shot of the shore. [Footnote: Letter of Captain David Porter, July 3, 1814.] The Phoebe and Cherub now bore down upon her, covered with ensigns, union-jacks, and motto flags; and it became evident that Hilyar did not intend to keep his word, as soon as he saw that Porter was disabled. So the Essex prepared for action, though there could be no chance whatever of success. Her flags were flying from every mast, and every thing was made ready as far as was possible. The attack was made before springs could be got on her cables. She was anchored so near the shore as to preclude the possibility of Captain Hilyar's passing ahead of her; [Footnote: Letter of Captain James Hilyar, March 30, 1814.] so his two ships came cautiously down, the Cherub taking her position on the starboard bow of the Essex, and the Phoebe under the latter's stern. The attack began at 4 P.M. [Footnote: Mean time. Porter says 3.45; Hilyar, a few minutes past 4. The former says the first attack lasted half an hour; the latter, but 10 minutes. I accordingly make it 20.] Some of the bow-guns of the American frigate bore upon the Cherub, and, as soon as she found this out, the sloop ran down and stationed herself near the Phoebe. The latter had opened with her broadside of long 18's, from a position in which not one of Porter's guns could reach her. Three times springs were got on the cables of the Essex, in order to bring her round till her broadside bore; but in each instance they were shot away, as soon as they were hauled taut. Three long 12's were got out of the stern-ports, and with these an animated fire was kept up on the two British ships, the aim being especially to cripple their rigging. A good many of Porter's crew were killed during the first five minutes, before he could bring any guns to bear; but afterward he did not suffer much, and at 4.20, after a quarter of an hour's fight between the three long 12's of the Essex, and the whole 36 broadside guns of the Phoebe and Cherub, the latter were actually driven off. They wore, and again began with their long guns; but, these producing no visible effect, both of the British ships hauled out of the fight at 4.30. "Having lost the use of main-sail, jib, and main-stay, appearances looked a little inauspicious," writes Captain Hilyar. But the damages were soon repaired, and his two ships stood back for the crippled foe. Both stationed themselves on her port-quarter, the Phoebe at anchor, with a spring, firing her broadside, while the Cherub kept under way, using her long bow-chasers. Their fire was very destructive, for they were out of reach of the Essex's carronades, and not one of her long guns could be brought to bear on them. Porter now cut his cable, at 5.20, and tried to close with his antagonists. After many ineffectual efforts sail was made. The flying-jib halyards were the only serviceable ropes uncut. That sail was hoisted, and the foretop-sail and fore-sail let fall, though the want of sheets and tacks rendered them almost useless. Still the Essex drove down on her assailants, and for the first time got near enough to use her carronades; for a minute or two the firing was tremendous, but after the first broadside the Cherub hauled out of the fight in great haste, and during the remainder of the action confined herself to using her bow-guns from a distance. Immediately afterward the Phoebe also edged off, and by her superiority of sailing, her foe being now almost helpless, was enabled to choose her own distance, and again opened from her long 18's, out of range of Porter's carronades. [Footnote: American writers often sneer at Hilyar for keeping away from the Essex, and out of reach of her short guns; but his conduct was eminently proper in this respect. It was no part of his duty to fight the Essex at the distance which best suited her; but, on the contrary, at that which least suited her. He, of course, wished to win the victory with the least possible loss to himself, and acted accordingly. His conduct in the action itself could not be improved upon.] The carnage on board the Essex had now made her decks look like shambles. One gun was manned three times, fifteen men being slam at it; its captain alone escaped without a wound. There were but one or two instances of flinching; the wounded, many of whom were killed by flying splinters while under the hands of the doctors, cheered on their comrades, and themselves worked at the guns like fiends as long as they could stand. At one of the bow-guns was stationed a young Scotchman, named Bissly, who had one leg shot off close by the groin. Using his handkerchief as a tourniquet, he said, turning to his American shipmates: "I left my own country and adopted the United States, to fight for her. I hope I have this day proved myself worthy of the country of my adoption. I am no longer of any use to you or to her, so good-by!" With these words he leaned on the sill of the port, and threw himself overboard. [Footnote: This and most of the other anecdotes are taken from the invaluable "Life of Farragut," pp. 37-46.] Among the very few men who flinched was one named William Roach; Porter sent one of his midshipmen to shoot him, but he was not to be found. He was discovered by a man named William Call, whose leg had been shot off and was hanging by the skin, and who dragged the shattered stump all round the bag-house, pistol in hand, trying to get a shot at him. Lieut. J. G. Cowell had his leg shot off above the knee, and his life might have been saved had it been amputated at once; but the surgeons already had rows of wounded men waiting for them, and when it was proposed to him that he should be attended to out of order, he replied: "No, doctor, none of that; fair play's a jewel. One man's life is as dear as another's; I would not cheat any poor fellow out of his turn." So he stayed at his post, and died from loss of blood.