A shift in the wind forced Porter to delay his plan to sail north and meet Bainbridge and Lawrence. A fresh gale had begun blowing from the north, forcing him to sail east. He kept an eye out for the small convoy he had been chasing before and waited for the wind to change. The Essex was in latitude 22° 13’ 17” south. For six days, from January 6 to 12, however, the wind did not change; it continued blowing obstinately from the north, forcing Porter to remain on his present course until it shifted. The continuously adverse winds caused him to rethink his plan to travel north. Since his supplies were running low, he decided to stand south instead of north, and make for either St. Sebastian Island or St. Catherine’s, depending on the wind. It was a critical decision. If he stood south, he would dramatically lessen his chance to rendezvous with the Constitution and the Hornet.
PORTER HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING THAT MEETING BAINBRIDGE and Lawrence was already impossible. On December 29, Bainbridge, while cruising off the Bahia coast, had fallen in with the British warship of his dreams. At nine that morning the Constitution was sailing along the coast just south of St. Salvador when one of her lookouts spotted two sails well off the weather bow. The Constitution was alone. Bainbridge had left Lawrence and the Hornet just outside the harbor at St. Salvador to blockade the Bonne Citoyenne, which Bainbridge had discovered was carrying 500,000 pounds sterling in specie. Lawrence could not attack her while she was in a neutral port, but he was doing everything he could to entice her out.
An hour later, at ten o’clock, Bainbridge saw the two strangers split up. One steered for St. Salvador, but the other sailed toward the Constitution. She was the formidable 38-gun British frigate Java, and what ensued that afternoon was one of the greatest naval battles in American history. Bainbridge was up against Henry Lambert, a veteran captain with a ship that was markedly faster than the Constitution, which gave her an important edge. Of course, “Old Ironsides” had her strengths as well—a more powerful battery, a skipper with an overwhelming need to win, and the remarkable hands that Isaac Hull had trained. They were far more experienced than Lambert’s men, a hundred of who were recently impressed.
The gruesome battle went on all afternoon. It ended at 5:30 with the Java a complete wreck, wallowing in the sea with all her masts down, her colors struck. Her gallant first lieutenant, Henry Chads, had the baleful task of surrendering. Henry Lambert was below, mortally wounded. A sharpshooter, standing in one of the Constitution’s tops, had put a musket ball in his chest. The rest of the Java’s crew had suffered mightily as well. Fifty-seven out of 426 were dead and eighty-three wounded. Losses on the Constitution were far less. Nine out of 475 were dead and twenty-six wounded, including Bainbridge. Despite the carnage and his own wounds, however, he was more elated than at any time in his life. He had finally redeemed himself, finally wiped away the stain of the Philadelphia and the other disappointments in his career. He could now hold his head up among his peers and countrymen.
Bainbridge dearly wanted to bring the Java home in triumph, but that was not to be. She was too far gone and had to be destroyed. After removing her crew and burning her, he returned to St. Salvador and released hundreds of prisoners on parole. He then repaired the Constitution, but the damages were so extensive that he could not continue his cruise, meet Porter, and proceed to St. Helena. Getting the wounded ship back to America—preferably to her homeport of Boston—would be difficult enough. She would have to run past whatever blockade the British had in place along the east coast.
Bainbridge also had to think about Lawrence and the Hornet. He did not know what had happened to them. He worried that Admiral Dixon and the Montague might have captured them. When Bainbridge went back to St. Salvador, he could see that Lawrence wasn’t there, and he soon discovered that the Montague had made a surprise appearance on December 24. Fortunately, Lawrence, who at the time was still blockading the harbor, spotted the Montague in the nick of time and ran into the neutral port for protection. During the night he took Dixon by surprise and ran the Hornet to the southward out of the harbor.
Once safely away, Lawrence decided against attempting a rendezvous with Porter or Bainbridge at Cape Frio. Instead, he traveled home, which turned out to be a fortunate choice. On the way he captured the 10-gun British brig Resolution, and then defeated and sank the 18-gun British war-brig Peacock. Three of Lawrence’s men were drowned trying to save the crew of the Peacock, and many more were saved only by luck as she went down. A heavy sea was running at the time. The American brig Hunter out of Portland Maine had been recently captured by the Peacock, and Lawrence recaptured her as well. The Peacock was one of the finest vessels of her class in the British navy. Afterward, he sailed home with a huge load of prisoners, and a ship that was badly in need of repairs and dangerously low on provisions. Contributing to his load of prisoners were men from the British merchantman Ellen, which he had taken outside St. Salvador before Admiral Dixon and the Montague arrived. On the way back to the United States Lawrence managed to avoid the British blockade and put into Homes Hole in Martha’s Vineyard on March 19, 1813. He was hailed as a great hero around the country, just as Bainbridge was.
The triumphs of Bainbridge and Lawrence were two in a string of six blue-water victories that the much-abused American navy achieved in the opening eight months of the war. The unexpected triumphs stunned London and invigorated President Madison, whose strategy for winning the war was otherwise in shambles. The invasion of Canada continued to be stymied, and Napoleon Bonaparte, whom the president was counting on so heavily, had been badly defeated in Russia, taking the pressure off London to end the American war quickly.
The Essex’s triumph over the Alert was the first of these remarkable naval victories. Porter had not heard of the others, of course, except for the Constitution’s back in August of 1812. Nor did he know yet that his dream of being free to pursue his own path to glory was now a reality. The victories of Bainbridge and Lawrence, and their return home had liberated him, given him the opportunity he had craved for so long.
At the moment, Porter had no inkling of how his fortunes had changed. More mundane matters occupied his mind. The Essex was still patrolling off Rio and badly in need of water, wood, and salt; and her crew needed refreshment. Since the Essex men had departed the United States, they had been on two-thirds allowance of salt provisions, half allowance of bread, and a full allowance of rum, which was now running dangerously low.
Rum was a particular problem that was much on Porter’s mind. He did not dare prohibit its consumption, but it was running so low that he was forced to reduce the daily allowance, which caused the entire crew to balk. The men wanted their grog now, and if it gave out later, they promised to live without it. They declared that if they did not receive their full allowance, they would not take any at all. Porter had his mind made up, however, and would not give in. He called their bluff by declaring that the grog tub would be overturned fifteen minutes after the crew was called to grog. Fear of losing all their allowance led every man to hasten to the tub at the appointed time and the crisis passed.
BAINBRIDGE HAD LISTED THE ISLANDS OF ST. SEBASTIAN AND St. Catherine’s as possible rendezvous points, and Porter felt that he had to make for one of them right away. “With my water and provisions getting short, and feeling apprehensive of the scurvy,” he wrote later to Bainbridge, “I determined to put into port, and as I had certain intelligence that the British Admiral [Dixon] had sailed from Rio on the 5th of January in pursuit of us I considered it advisable to go to a place where there would be the least likelihood of his getting intelligence of me in a short time, and therefore proceeded to St. Catherine’s.”
St. Sebastian Island was only two hundred miles south of Rio (a day’s run) while St. Catharine’s was five hundred, and for that reason a much safer place to put in. St. Catharine’s was one of the more congenial spots along the South American coast, the usual stopping place for American whalers, sealers, and privateers.
On the way to St. Catharine’s, Porter dist
ributed a portion of the prize money he had taken from the Nocton. He wanted the men to have enough cash to purchase what they needed when they reached the island. He had misread his men, however. Instead of being saved for St. Catharine’s, the new money ignited a bout of gambling. He put a quick stop to that by punishing anyone asking for or paying a gambling debt, and by giving monies collected to any informer without revealing his name. The gaming ended.
On January 18, Porter spoke to the captain of a Portuguese vessel recently out of Rio. The movements of the British squadron were uppermost in his mind, and he was told that the Montague had sailed on January 6 to search for Bainbridge and Lawrence. Actually, the Montague had sailed long before January 6, but Porter had no way of knowing that. He believed that more warships were coming to Dixon from England, and guessed that while the Montague might have sailed north to St. Salvador, the admiral could have remained at Rio to await those reinforcements. If so, Porter thought Dixon might send one or two of the recently arrived warships to trap him at St. Catharine’s. In fact, two of Dixon’s warships, the 24-gun Cherub (Thomas Tucker) and the 18-gun Racoon (William Black), had left Rio while Dixon was away, and searched to the southward for the Essex, but could not find her.
Porter was worried that Dixon might stumble on him. So he decided that, no matter how strong the temptation to stay in such an agreeable place as St. Catherine’s, he would not remain there any longer than he had to. On January 19 he made the island, bearing southwest, close to the Brazilian coast. He stood for her, and by eight o’clock that evening he was twelve miles away and laid off for the night. In the morning he ran in with light winds to within two and a half miles of the principal fortification and dropped anchor. As soon as he did, a swarm of bumboats rushed to the ship’s side with food for sale in small quantities. Regrettably, the prices were outrageously high. Porter discouraged the officers and men from buying anything, but he did not forbid it.
Lieutenant Downes went ashore to establish relations with the Portuguese authorities, and received a warm welcome. Obtaining water was Porter’s first priority. Even though the government cooperated, the weather at St. Catherine’s was squally with heavy rains, which complicated all the provisioning. The ship had to be moved in order to reach the best watering place. Once his guide led him to it, however, Porter had the Essex supplied with water in two and a half days. He also put on board all the wood he needed, and rum, which he had no problem buying at a decent price. But food was another matter. He continued to have a difficult time with the ubiquitous bumboats. They were always about, selling fowl, yams, hogs, plantains, turkeys, watermelons, and onions at ridiculously inflated prices. Porter got so annoyed watching his crew being cheated that he finally intervened and established strict rules for trading. Unfortunately, he found that obtaining the same quantity or quality of goods on shore was impossible because the bumboat men had a corner on the market.
Even though the weather was poor at the moment, St. Catherine’s was otherwise an attractive place, blessed with a temperate climate and ideal conditions for growing food. Ten thousand people lived on the island in comfortable houses and lovely villages. The peasants looked well fed and well clad, and the women were handsome. Don Luis Maurice da Silvia, the Portuguese governor, assigned Sergeant-Major Sabine to attend to Porter’s needs, which he did with consummate diplomatic skill. Even so, Porter continued to have trouble obtaining all the provisions he wanted.
While work on resupply went forward, a remarkable visitor appeared from the ocean. Some rotten beef had got on board, and Porter threw it over the side, which drew the attention of an enormous shark. Porter thought it measured twenty-five feet. At one point the fish was thrashing in the water with a quarter of a bullock in its mouth—in the exact place where the previous evening some of the crew and a few officers had been swimming. Porter thought that a man would be only a mouthful for the giant.
The island’s principal industry, besides supplying ships sailing to and from the Pacific, was the whale fishery. About 500 whales were taken annually from the bay where the Essex was anchored. They came to calve and were defenseless. Their oil was deposited in an immense rock tank and shipped to Portugal.
While the Essex was being loaded, Porter spoke to the captain of a small Portuguese trader that had left Rio four days earlier. He was told that the Montague had captured a 22-gun American warship, which Porter assumed was the Hornet, and that the Montague was in pursuit of a large American frigate, which Porter thought had to be the Constitution. None of this was true. The Portuguese captain went on to tell Porter that a British frigate and two brigs of war had arrived at Rio and more reinforcements were expected. With them, Admiral Dixon could now make a more determined search for the Essex. The captain also told Porter that Buenos Aires, then in a state of starvation, was to be avoided, while Montevideo (the future capital of Uruguay) was closed to the Essex. Its government was still in the hands of Spaniards loyal to the deposed King of Spain, Ferdinand VII, who was allied with Great Britain. Porter had no way of knowing if the information was true or not, but he had to assume that Dixon was looking for him, and for that reason Buenos Aires and Montevideo where good places to avoid.
All of the enemy activity along the Brazilian coast made Porter anxious to get back to sea. He feared the British would blockade him, or worse, attack the Essex in St. Catharine’s supposedly neutral harbor. Thus, in spite of the island’s temptations, he remained determined to leave as quickly as possible. On January 25, after spending only five days in what all hands (including the captain) thought was a delightful place, Porter fired signal guns for everyone to repair on board. After waiting what he thought was a sufficient amount of time, he hove up and dropped down below the fort, where he anchored to give the officers time to retrieve their clothes, which were on shore being washed. At eight o’clock that evening, he pulled anchor. By dawn the Essex was at sea. Two men were left behind. For one reason or another, when the signal was given, they did not return to the ship. Porter waited for a time, assumed that they preferred to stay, and left.
Once out in the South Atlantic, Porter faced the most important decision of his life—where to go from here? Before leaving St. Catharine’s he had given Sergeant-Major Sabine a note for Bainbridge should he appear. There was little likelihood that he would, but on the off-chance that he might, Porter wanted him to receive this letter. It read in part: “Should we not meet by the 1st of April, be assured that by pursuing my own course, I shall have been actuated by views to the good of the service, and that there will have been an absolute necessity for my doing so.” The letter was dated January 20, 1813.
It is hard to imagine that Porter did not have an overwhelming preference for sailing to the Pacific. He had been advocating doing so for years. The possibility must have been on his mind since he left Chester. Everything he had done since the war began indicated how fixated he was on distinguishing himself in some heroic action, and here was his opportunity; there might never be another. Sailing the first American warship into the eastern Pacific was his path to everlasting fame. He could destroy the British whaling fleet there—a great accomplishment in itself—and also have an excellent chance of engaging in a one-on-one battle with an enemy frigate, which was always his main objective.
As far back as 1809, Porter had written to former president Jefferson proposing a voyage to the Pacific. He had visions of being the Lewis and Clark of the sea, highlighting to America the importance of the vast Pacific. Porter sent a copy of the letter to Charles Goldsborough, chief clerk of the navy, who passed it on to President Madison, but like his predecessor, Madison never replied. Porter wrote again to Madison on October 31, 1810, explaining the importance of the Pacific, but again, he was ignored. Still not deterred, Porter wrote on February 7, 1811, to Secretary of the Navy Hamilton that should war break out he wished to be appointed commander of a squadron whose object would be to sail into the eastern Pacific and attack British whalers and merchantmen. Hamilton liked the idea but neve
r followed up on it.
Porter had also urged his plan on Bainbridge. Before the Essex left the Delaware River in October 1812, Bainbridge had solicited Porter’s opinion on the best mode of attacking the enemy, and Porter had laid before him his plan of sailing into the Pacific. He received a positive response, but in the end Bainbridge decided that patrolling the waters around St. Helena was a better idea. Nonetheless, Porter was convinced that going to the South Pacific would have Bainbridge’s approval.
Before making a final decision, Porter asked purser John R. Shaw for an accounting of the provisions on board. They had not been able to obtain all the supplies they needed at St. Catharine’s. They did procure wood and water and some refreshments but found it impossible to obtain any sea stock except rum and a few bags of flour. Shaw reported that only three months worth of bread at half allowance were aboard, and this was indicative of the state of the other provisions. Porter talked himself into the idea that only in the eastern Pacific could he resupply the Essex. He insisted that no port on the east coast of South America could fulfill his needs without running the risk of blockade, or capture. He also maintained that returning to the United States was out of the question. The American coast would be swarming with British warships, and returning empty handed was diametrically opposite to his instructions to annoy the enemy. He did not seriously consider sailing to the waters around St. Helena, rejecting the idea on the grounds that the state of his provisions would not allow it.
The Shining Sea Page 10