Thirty Years' View (Vol. 2 of 2) / or, A History of the Working of the American Government for Thirty Years, from 1820 to 1850

by Thomas Hart Benton

Approaching the sternmost vessel and entering into conversation with her, he learnt that the fleet was under the convoy of a frigate, the Minerva, thirty-six guns, and a bomb-vessel, both then ahead; and that the vessels of the fleet transported one thousand soldiers. He could have cut off this vessel easily, but the information he had received opened a more brilliant prospect. He determined to pass along through the fleet, the Essex being a good sailer, speaking the different vessels as he quietly passed them, get alongside of the frigate, and carry her by an energetic attack. In execution of this plan he passed on without exciting the least suspicion, and came up with the next vessel; but this second one was more cautious than the first, and, on the Essex's ranging up alongside of her, she took alarm and announced her intention to give the signal of a stranger having joined the fleet. This put an end to disguise and brought on prompt action. The vessel, under penalty of being fired into, was instantly ordered to surrender and haul out of the convoy. This was so quietly done as to be unnoticed by the other ships. On taking possession of her she was found to be filled with soldiers, one hundred and fifty of them, and all made prisoners of war.

A few days afterwards the Essex fell in with the man-of-war Alert, of twenty guns and a full crew. The Alert began the action. In eight minutes it was finished, and the British ship only saved from sinking by the help of her captors. It was the first British man-of-war taken in this contest, and so easily, that not the slightest injury was done to the Essex, either to the vessel or her crew. Crowded now with prisoners (for the crew of the Alert had to be taken on board, in addition to the one hundred and fifty soldiers and the previous captures), all chafing in their bondage, and ready to embrace the opportunity of the first action to rise, Captain Porter agreed with the commander of the Alert to convert her into a cartel, and send her into port at St. John's, with the prisoners, to await their exchange. Continuing her cruise, the Essex twice fell in with the enemy's frigates having other vessels of war in company, so that a fair engagement was impossible. The Essex then returned to the Delaware to replenish her stores, and, sailing thence in October, 1812, she fairly commenced her great cruise.

Captain Porter was under orders to proceed to the coast of Brazil, and join Commodore Bainbridge at a given rendezvous, cruising as he went. It was not until after he had run the greater part of the distance, crossing the equator, that he got sight of the first British vessel, a small man-of-war brig, discovered in the afternoon, chased, and come up with in the night, having previously boldly shown her national colors. The two vessels were then within musket shot. Not willing to hurt a foe too weak to fight him, Captain Porter hailed and required the brig to surrender. Instead of complying, the arrogant little man-of-war turned upon its pursuer, attempting to cross the stern of the Essex, with the probable design to give her a raking fire and escape in the dark. Still the captain would not open his guns upon so diminutive a foe until he had tried the effect of musketry upon her. A volley was fired into her, killing one man, when she struck. It was the British government packet Nocton, ten guns, thirty-one men, and having fifty-five thousand silver dollars on board.

Pursuing his cruise south to the point of rendezvous, an English merchant vessel was captured, one of a convoy of six which had left Rio the evening before in charge of a man-of-war schooner. The rest of the convoy was out of sight, but, taking its track, a long and fruitless chase was given; and the Essex repaired to the point of rendezvous, without meeting with further incident. Commodore Bainbridge had been there, and had left; and, being now under discretionary orders, Captain Porter determined to use the discretion with which he was invested, and took the bold resolution to double Cape Horn, enter the Pacific Ocean, put twenty thousand miles between his vessel and an American port, and try his fortune among British whalers, merchantmen, and ships-of-war in that vast and remote sea.

It was a bold enterprise, such as few governments would have ordered, which many would have forbid, and which the undaunted resolution of a bold commander alone could take. He had every thing against him: no depots, no means of repairing or refitting; only one chart; the Spanish American States subservient to the British, and unreliable for the impartiality of neutrals, much less for the sympathy of neighbors. He was deficient both in provisions and naval stores, but expected to furnish himself from the enemy, whose vessels in that capacious and distant sea, were always well supplied; and the silver taken from the British government packet would be a means towards paying wages.

In the middle of January, after a most tempestuous passage, he had doubled the Cape, entered the Pacific, his characteristic motto, Free Trade and Sailors' Rights, at the mast-head, and ran for Valparaiso—the great point of maritime resort in the South Pacific. He had expected to find it a Spanish town, as it was when he left the United States: he found it Chilian, for Chili, in the mean time, had declared her independence: and this change he had a right to deem favorable, as, in addition to the advantages of conventional neutrality, it was fair to count upon the good feeling of a young and neighboring republic. In this he was not disappointed, being well received, meeting good treatment, obtaining supplies, and acquiring valuable information. He learnt that the American whalers were in great danger, most of them ignorant of the war, cruisers in pursuit of them, and one already taken. He learnt also that the Viceroy of Peru had sent out corsairs against American shipping—a piece of information of the highest moment, as it showed him an enemy where he expected a neutral, and enabled him to know how to deal with Peruvian ships when he should meet them. This criminality on the part of the viceroy was the result of a conclusion of his own, that as Spain and Great Britain were allies against France, so they would soon be allies against the United States, and that he, as a good Spanish viceroy should begin without waiting for the orders. This let Captain Porter see that he had two enemies instead of one to contend with in the Pacific; and this information, as it showed increase of danger to American interests, increased his ardor to go to their protection; which he promptly did.

Barely taking time to hurry on board the supplies, which six months already at sea rendered indispensable, he was again in pursuit of the enemy, and soon had the good fortune to fall in with an American whale-ship, which gave the important intelligence that a Peruvian corsair had just captured two American whalers off Coquimbo and was making for that place, with a British vessel in company. This was exciting information, and presented a three-fold enterprise to the chivalrous spirit of Porter—to rescue the American, punish the Peruvian, and capture the Englishman. Instantly all sail was set for Coquimbo, the American whaler which had given the information in company, and all hearts beating high with expectation, and with the prospect of performing some generous and gallant deed.

In a few hours a strange sail was descried in the distance, with a smaller vessel in company; and soon the sail was suspected to be a cruiser, disguised as a whaler. Then some pretty play took place, allowable in maritime war, although entirely a game of deception. The stranger showed Spanish colors; the Essex showed English, and then fired a gun to leeward. The whaler in company with the Essex hoisted the American flag beneath the English jack. All these false indications are allowable to gain advantages before fighting, but not to fight under, when true colors must be shown by the attacking ship under the penalty of piracy.

Gun signals were then resorted to. The stranger fired a shot ahead of the Essex, as much as to say stop and talk; the Essex fired a shot over him, signifying come nearer. She came, for the implication was that the next shot would be into her. When nearer, the stranger sent an armed boat to board the Essex; but the boat was directed to return with an order to the stranger to pass under the frigate's lee (i. e. under her guns), and to send an officer on board to apologise for the shots he had fired at an English man-of-war. The order was promptly complied with. The stranger came under the lee of the Essex and sent her lieutenant on board, who, not suspecting where he was, readily told him that his ship was the Nereyda, Peruvian privateer, of fifteen guns and a full crew; that they were cruising for Americans, and had already taken two (the same mentioned by the whaler); and that the smaller vessel in company was one of these.

After giving this information he made the apology for the shot, which was that, having put one of their American prizes in charge of a small crew, the English letter-of-marque Nimrod had fallen in with it and taken it from the crew, and that they were cruising for this Nimrod with a view to obtain redress, and had mistaken this frigate for her, and hence the shot ahead of her; and hoped the explanation would constitute a sufficient apology. It did so; Capt. Porter was perfectly satisfied with it, and still more so, with the information which accompanied it. It placed the accomplishment of one of his three objects immediately in his hands, and the one perhaps dearest to his heart—that of catching the Peruvian corsair which was preying upon American commerce. So, civilly dismissing the lieutenant, he waited until he had got aboard of the Nereyda, then run up the American flag, fired a shot over the corsair, and stood ready to fire into her. The caution was sufficient: the Peruvian surrendered immediately, with her prize. Thus was the piratical capture of two American whalers promptly chastised, and one of them released, and the Peruvian informed that he and his countrymen were cruising against Americans in mistake, and would be treated as pirates if they continued the practice. This admonition put an end to Peruvian seizure of American vessels.