The Shining Sea

by George C. Daughan

  The unexpected appearance of the Essex raised Poinsett’s hopes that Washington was finally looking beyond Florida to his distant part of the world. Madison, of course, had not sent the Essex, and his interest in the southern part of South America in 1813 was minimal. That had not always been the case. When he first appointed Poinsett in August of 1810 the president had great sympathy for the South American revolutionaries fighting for their freedom against a reactionary Spanish autocracy. When a revolutionary junta, inspired by America’s revolutionary ideas, had been established in Buenos Aires and had taken control of the huge Spanish colony of the Rio de la Plata in May 1810, Madison looked on with satisfaction. He searched for ways to aid all the independence movements in Latin America and dramatically expand American trade in the region.

  In 1810, Madison sent Poinsett, for whom he had a high regard, to explore ways to further American interests. Poinsett was a rich, well-educated, gentleman of liberal opinion from Charleston, South Carolina. He had spent years in Europe educating himself, traveling, among other places, to Russia, where he became a favorite of Tsar Alexander, who hoped that Madison would make him the new American ambassador in St. Petersburg. That post went to John Quincy Adams, however. Madison was rewarding him for his vote (as a senator from Massachusetts) in favor of Jefferson’s embargo.

  Instead of ambassador to Russia, Poinsett was appointed Agent for Seamen and Commerce to the port of Buenos Aires, and also Agent for the Province of Peru and the Province of Chili, positions that did not require Senate approval. Secretary of State Robert Smith emphasized to Poinsett that his primary mission was to promote commercial relations. Knowing that the British were hard at work obtaining privileged trading positions in Portuguese Brazil and everywhere else in Latin America, Madison wanted to compete with them. “With respect to Spanish America generally,” he wrote to the American ambassador in London, William Pinkney, “you will find that Great Britain is engaged in the most eager . . . grasp of political influence and commercial [gain, extorting] a preference in trade over all other nations . . . from the temporary fears and the necessities of the Revolutionary Spaniards.”

  Britain had been trying to increase her influence and trade in Latin America for centuries. The weakness of Portugal and Spain after the Napoleonic invasion offered her the best chance she had ever had. So, in spite of being tied down in Europe fighting France, she stubbornly pursued her old objectives.

  Britain’s interest in Latin America was so strong that before becoming Spain’s staunch ally in 1808, London had debated whether or not to take advantage of Spain’s weakness and simply invade her colonies. In 1806 a British force tried to seize Buenos Aires, the capital of the Viceroyalty of the Rio de la Plata. The invaders were resisted and defeated, however. Monarchists fought them, but so, too, did the creoles, who were determined not to trade one imperial master for another. The British tried again the following year with the same result, and finally concluded that their strategy was badly flawed. From then on their goal was to become privileged trading partners, not imperial rulers.

  London’s task became far easier when Napoleon invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 1807 and 1808. The Portuguese and Spanish monarchs then became totally reliant on Great Britain for survival. London used its influence to dramatically expand its trading privileges in Portuguese Brazil, and then in Spain’s Latin American colonies.

  While the British continued to fight for the Spanish monarchy, they also maintained friendly relations with the revolutionaries—in case they were successful. Of course, London could not openly support the insurgents, but British agents—often naval officers—quietly kept communications open. The revolutionists, in turn, did everything they could to interest Britain in their favor. They wanted to assure the British that if they dropped their support of the Spanish monarchy, and the revolutions in Latin America succeeded, trade with Britain would continue to flourish.

  Madison had a clear idea of British ambitions, and he wanted to thwart them, but his capacity was limited. He supported the insurrectionists to the extent he could, hoping to gain favor with them and not give the British a free hand. Poinsett was expected to inform nationalist leaders that the United States would view their independence movements favorably, but would not ship them arms directly. They could purchase munitions, but they would have to come to the United States to get them.

  When Poinsett left for South America on October 15, 1810, he made his way first to Rio de Janeiro, arriving on Christmas day. Another South Carolinian, Thomas Sumter Jr., the American minister plenipotentiary to the Portuguese court, met him. During a lengthy visit, Sumter provided Poinsett with a clear picture of what awaited him in his area of responsibility, and he gave him a letter of introduction to the revolutionary junta now in charge in Buenos Aires. Poinsett arrived there on February 13, 1811, much to the consternation of Viscount Strangford, the head of the British mission in Buenos Aires. Strangford did what he could to thwart Poinsett, but the revolutionary junta was about to declare independence, and they wanted good relations with both America and Britain. They welcomed Poinsett, offering him the same trading privileges granted to the British, much to Strangford’s annoyance.

  Poinsett remained in Buenos Aires until November 1811, when he left a vice consul in charge and set out for Chile, traveling over the Andes. The government of José Miguel Carrera formally received him on February 24, 1812, and he became deeply involved in supporting Carrera against all his rivals. Even though the political situation in Chile was chaotic, and the regime unstable, Poinsett became a faithful ally of Carrera. He was convinced that Carrera’s military dictatorship was only a temporary expedient, that his real goal was establishing a liberal republican regime in Chile. Supporting Carrera against all rivals, however, was contrary to State Department policy. While America was at war with Britain, the United States was officially neutral in disputes between Spain and her colonies.

  When the War of 1812 broke out, Madison had changed his South American policy. Defeating Britain became his first priority. When his invasion of Canada in the summer of 1812 failed, and the Napoleonic invasion of Russia later that year failed as well, he was forced to alter his approach to Latin America. His policy now was not to push Spain into becoming an active belligerent alongside Britain, but to remain neutral. To keep Spain at bay, Madison was forced to turn his back on the Latin American revolutionaries. The State Department never kept Poinsett informed of American policy, however, and he threw his wholehearted support behind Carrera.

  Without any communication from Washington, Poinsett was left on his own, which allowed the administration to repudiate whatever he did. In spite of the lack of direction, Poinsett carried on as best he could, trying to increase American influence with the few tools he had to work with. And, despite all the difficulties, he made some progress.

  The sudden appearance of the Essex raised Poinsett’s hopes that he could use her to advance Carrera’s fortunes. He had visions of using the frigate to check the aggressive Peruvian Viceroy Abascal. “On the arrival [of the Essex], I wrote a remonstrance to the viceroy couched in stronger terms, but received no answer,” Poinsett wrote to Secretary of State Monroe. Poinsett was unaware that Abascal’s invasion of Chile had already begun, and that Monroe would never reply.

  Poinsett and Carrera were so enthusiastic about the Essex, they got carried away. They assumed, without any evidence, that Madison had sent her to arrange an alliance with the new republic of Chile, and to assist in maintaining its independence from foreign control. Porter encouraged their illusions, even though he had no idea what American policy actually was. He did not disabuse Carrera of the idea that the United States was supporting him, even though Porter’s sole object was obtaining provisions.

  When news of Porter’s arrival reached Santiago on March 15, bells rang in the capital, and illuminations lighted the city throughout the night in celebration. Poinsett arranged an invitation for Porter and his officers to meet Carrera, who called himself the presiden
t of the Provisional Republic of Chile. Porter never found time to go to the capital, however. He remained in Valparaiso, busy with the ship and being entertained. He was focusing on repairing and provisioning the Essex, in part because during his initial visit with Governor Lastra, he learned that the British battleship HMS Standard, a 74-gun behemoth, had stopped at Valparaiso four months earlier. His Majesty’s spies would certainly warn the Standard of the Essex’s presence—if the battleship was still in the eastern Pacific. Her actual whereabouts were unknown, but Porter had to keep her constantly in mind. He was not concerned with the British commander in Rio, Vice Admiral Manley Dixon. It would be some time, he thought, before Dixon could have warships off Chile or Peru.

  Actually, the Standard had departed the eastern Pacific months before. Admiral Dixon was informed of Porter’s appearance in Valparaiso on April 3, 1813—less than three weeks after the Essex arrived. But there was nothing Dixon could do about it. He knew that London would be apprehensive about the extensive British whale fishery in the eastern Pacific and would want him to take immediate action against the Essex, but his resources were few and his responsibilities many. Perhaps the most important was protecting British trade with Rio and other ports along South America’s east coast, seeing to it that homeward-bound convoys reached England, and the specie British merchants had accumulated got to London safely. Destroying the Essex would have to wait.

  Without Dixon and the Standard to worry about at the moment, Porter allowed his men to enjoy Valparaiso for the brief time they were there. He was liberal about shore leave, the only stipulation being that hands had to be back on board when the gun sounded at eight o’clock at night—no exceptions. This rule created no difficulty apart from the carpenter, John S. Waters, who failed to appear at the specified time one evening. Porter dealt with him harshly, not letting him return to the ship at all. According to Porter, he was a worthless fellow anyway, and the ship would not miss him. The gunner, Lawrence Miller, also ran into trouble when he was caught smuggling rum aboard. Since he had broken the rules before, he was confined in irons. While Porter was disciplining the carpenter and the gunner, he was also welcoming aboard, with great satisfaction, three deserters from an English brig lying in port.

  Porter was also entertaining Governor Lastra and other notables. During his first audience with the Essex commander, the governor, who had himself been a naval officer, expressed an interest in visiting the Essex. Porter invited him to come aboard that day. The invitation was accepted, and Lastra arrived with his entourage late in the afternoon—after his siesta. He was given a special tour, and examined every part of the ship with great interest. He appeared to be quite impressed. He had never been on a frigate before, nor had any of his retinue. The visit lasted two hours. Before leaving, the governor invited Porter and his officers to a party the following evening, which Porter eagerly accepted.

  The party turned out to be a grand affair. The company and the dinner were fascinating—far more than Porter had imagined they would be. A colorful assemblage of ladies—two hundred of them—were there. At first glance they were enormously attractive, especially to men who had been at sea for so long. On closer examination, however, the women’s mouths were oddly repulsive. Porter wondered why. He soon discovered that what hurt their appearance was a slavish devotion to maté, a drink made from an herb sweetened with liberal amounts of sugar that they sucked hot through a silver tube, creating a pleasing sensation, but having a devastating effect on their teeth and making their breath repellent.

  Exotic dances followed dinner. Porter and his officers were unfamiliar with them and remained spectators, but they were impressed. The climax startled them, however. Known as the ballas de tierra, the dances ended in wild, indelicate, and lascivious motions, until overcome with passion, the participants lost their energy and were forced to sit down. Porter claimed that he did not like the display, although it’s hard to imagine that he didn’t.

  The leading citizens of the town, all of whom were at the governor’s ball, invited the Americans to visit their homes, but were reluctantly turned down. Getting the Essex ready for departure was consuming nearly all the time Porter and his officers had. Thanks to their unceasing efforts, by noon on March 20 the ship, except for a few articles, was as fully loaded as when she left Delaware Bay. That afternoon, Joel Poinsett, accompanied by one of the president’s brothers, don Luis Carrera, and the American consul in Valparaiso, Mr. Heywell, came aboard for dinner.

  The following day was Sunday, and Porter decided that after the intense labors of the last few days, the crew needed to relax a bit. He organized an entertainment aboard the Essex and invited some of the city’s notables. Early in the afternoon he went ashore to escort his guests to the ship, but about three o’clock, when they were assembling on the beach, lookouts spied a frigate in the offing. Porter and his officers immediately turned around and unceremoniously left, jumping into the boats, and racing back to the ship. Poinsett, don Luis Carrera, and several other Americans and Chileans accompanied them to the Essex, then returned to shore.

  The stranger was a 32-gun frigate, and the Essex, under a cloud of canvas, shot after her. The wind soon died, however, and Porter was forced to launch boats and tow the Essex out of the harbor, where she regained the wind. In an hour she was alongside the stranger, which turned out to be a Portuguese warship, much to everyone’s disappointment, especially the women of Valparaiso, who were looking forward to viewing a great naval battle from the safety of the hillsides. Porter did not get back into port until the morning of the 22nd. When he arrived, an invitation from the governor to attend another grand dinner and ball was waiting. Porter felt he had to accept it.

  As anticipated, the ball was lavish. The city’s notables and dozens of women turned out in their finest attire. The partying went on until one o’clock, when Porter and his officers returned to the ship, expecting to get underway the following morning. Before they could, however, the governor sent a request that he and some ladies be allowed to come on aboard one last time, and Porter felt he had to accede to the request. The visitors arrived at nine o’clock the next morning and remained until noon.

  After they left, Porter prepared to sail, but he was delayed again. An American whale ship, the George, had unexpectedly arrived in the harbor. Porter thought her captain might have up-to-date information about Peru and the whaling fleets in the eastern Pacific. He was not disappointed. Captain Benjamin Worth was from Nantucket and had years of whaling experience. He knew as much about the fishing fleets in the eastern Pacific as anyone, and he was anxious to share his information with Porter. Worth told him that word of the American declaration of war had just reached the British whaling ships, all of whom were armed—making some of them powerful small warships. Most, if not all, American whalers had no idea a war was on. They would be easy prey for their British counterparts. Worth wanted Porter to provide protection, and as far as Worth was concerned, the best way to do it was to attack the enemy whalers. Porter agreed. Worth pointed out that the best places to find them were the waters around the Galapagos Islands and off the Peruvian port of Paita.

  Porter was more anxious than ever to be underway. Adding to his sense of urgency were the two Spanish ships he had seen when first entering the harbor. They had departed during the week—presumably traveling to Lima—where they would bring news of the Essex to the viceroy. Porter wanted to get along to the Peruvian coast and the Galapagos Islands before his enemies had time to react to his presence.

  On March 23, just before leaving Valparaiso, Porter wrote to Commodore Bainbridge. He briefly described what had happened to him since leaving the Delaware River on October 26, 1812, and explained what he was doing in Chile. He spoke of the warm reception he had received in Valparaiso.

  I here in six days after my arrival had on board as much provisions wood and water as my ship could conveniently stow, and shall sail on my cruise today—My reception here has been of the most friendly nature, the political state
of the country is most favorable to our cause, and every advantage that a port of the United States could afford to us has already been offered to me by the President & Junto—their cause is liberty and independence, and the arrival of this ship has given them fresh vigor.

  Porter sent this report and the few ones that followed via Poinsett, who passed them on to Thomas Sumter Jr., the American minister in Rio. Needless to say, the letters took months to get to their destination.

  During this time, Porter’s competitive instincts were aroused to a high pitch when he received more accurate reports of the astonishing American naval victories at the start of the war. He yearned to accomplish what his colleagues Bainbridge, Hull, and Decatur had—a great victory over a British frigate. That remained his supreme goal. It was his path to everlasting fame, and a way to blot out forever the stain of the ignominious surrender of the Philadelphia long before.

  CHAPTER

  11

  PERU AND THE ELUSIVE NIMROD

  WHEN PORTER LEFT VALPARAISO ON MARCH 23, HE SHAPED a course northwest with a flag at the mainmast proclaiming FREE TRADE AND SAILORS RIGHTS. He was making for Peru, hoping to avoid the 74-gun Standard, check the viceroy’s attacks on American vessels, and do maximum damage to Britain’s whaling fleet and privateers. He estimated that there were in excess of twenty enemy whalers in the eastern Pacific, and approximately twenty-three American. The British whalers were entirely at his mercy. The industry’s leaders and their political supporters in London had pressed the Admiralty hard to protect the whalers, and their Lordships were keen to do so. But, of course, given the demands placed on the Royal Navy to fight the Napoleonic War, protect a worldwide commerce, and provide other services to a far-flung empire, they could not respond as swiftly or as strongly as they might have liked.