The Shining Sea

by George C. Daughan

  At daylight on March 25, two days out of Valparaiso, a lookout spied a sail to the northeast. Porter gave chase and overtook the stranger, which turned out to be the American whale ship Charles out of Nantucket. Her captain, Grafton Gardner, reported that four months earlier a Peruvian privateer had captured him and taken him to Callao (the port city for Lima), where he had only just been released after paying a ransom. Two days before meeting Porter, Captain Gardner had run into more trouble. He was sailing in company with two other American whalers, the Walker and the Barclay, off the Chilean port of Coquimbo, 280 miles north of Valparaiso. They began to be chased by the Nimrod, a British privateer posing as a whaler, and the Nereyda, a Peruvian privateer, also disguised as a whaler. The Walker and the Barclay were captured, but the Charles managed to escape. Hoping to surprise the Nimrod and the Nereyda, Porter crowded on all sail and sped toward Coquimbo.

  At eight o’clock that same morning, a lookout spied another sail to the northward, and Porter raced after her with the Charles trailing behind. An English jack was flying over the Charles’s American flag, indicating that she had been captured by a British ship. By meridian the Essex was close enough to see that the stranger was a small warship disguised as a whaler, with whaleboats on her quarters. Seeing British colors displayed on the Essex, she raised the Spanish flag and steered toward the frigate. When a mile away, she fired a shot at the oncoming Essex, enraging Porter. He almost pumped a broadside into her, but thought better of it when he considered that the Essex was flying British colors, and the shot could not have been meant as an insult to the American flag. The stranger mounted fifteen guns and looked like the Peruvian privateer Nereyda. She matched the description Captain Gardner had given of the marauder that had chased him and captured the Walker and the Barclay. Two shots across her bows brought her to.

  She was indeed the Nereyda, and her second lieutenant soon appeared on the Essex with apologies from his captain, who, he claimed, could not present himself because of illness. The nervous lieutenant, assuming the Essex was a British frigate, told Porter the Nereyda had captured the Walker and Barclay and was taking them into the port of Coquimbo when the British privateer Nimrod suddenly appeared and stole the Walker from them, but not the Barclay. The Nereyda was searching for the Nimrod to get the Walker back, when she saw the Essex and the Charles. The lieutenant said that he thought they were the Nimrod and the Walker. He told Porter that the Nereyda had been out of Lima for four months, searching only for American vessels, and that she had on board some of the Barclay’s crew, and part of the Walker’s, including her captain.

  Porter ordered the second lieutenant to return to his ship, and if his captain was too ill, to send over the first lieutenant, along with Captain West of the Walker and one of the Barclay’s crew members. When West appeared, Porter took him into his cabin and assured him that the Essex was an American frigate. West was overjoyed; he could hardly believe his good luck. He told Porter that his ship and the Barclay had been loaded with whale oil and were sailing toward Coquimbo to take on supplies before returning to the United States when the Nereyda had captured them. They were taken completely by surprise; they had no idea a war was on. The Peruvians were a rough bunch, coming on board and grabbing everything in sight. West told Porter that the Nereyda’s captain had sent the Barclay off to an unknown port (with her captain, Gideon Randall of New Bedford, Massachusetts, still on board), and that twenty-four American prisoners were on the Peruvian ship. After hearing this, Porter forced the Nereyda to strike her colors and took possession of her. Lieutenant Downes went aboard with some men and sent all the Peruvians, including her captain, over to the Essex.

  Porter now went after the Nimrod, which had departed from the Nereyda only three days before. Thinking she might be nearby, he stood inshore and looked into Tongue Bay, but she wasn’t there. He then looked into Coquimbo, but, again, found nothing. Lieutenant Stephen Decatur McKnight took command of the Nereyda that night, with orders to throw her arms, ammunition, and light sails overboard, leaving only her topsails and courses. Porter then sent her Peruvian crew, including her captain, back to their ship and brought her American prisoners over to the Essex. When that was done, he sent the Nereyda off to Callao with a letter for the viceroy, explaining that Porter had caught the Nereyda hunting and plundering American ships, but that he wished “to preserve the good understanding which should ever exist between the government of the United States and the provinces of Spanish America.” He was therefore sending the Nereyda back to Peru, knowing that his excellency would surely want to punish these criminals. Before the Nereyda departed for Callao, Porter removed two whaleboats from her, which she had seized from the American whalers. They would come in handy when he needed to disguise the Essex as a whaler. He could also use them in shallow waters.

  The Nereyda reached Callao with no difficulty, and when Viceroy Abascal read Porter’s letter, he was furious. Instead of punishing the Nereyda’s skipper, he retaliated by putting sixteen men from the American privateer Colt—which the Chilean revolutionary government had purchased and the Peruvians had captured—in irons and sent them to work at hard labor on public projects around Callao.

  Porter believed that the capture of the Nimrod was of the greatest importance to his mission. She was a serious menace to the American whale fishery. There was no doubt in his mind that London was trying to eliminate American competition in these waters. Porter resolved to thwart them by capturing or destroying all the British armed whalers and privateers he could find, and forcing the rest to stay in port. Captains Gardner and West had already told him there were probably twenty or more enemy whalers along the coasts of Chile, Peru, and the Galapagos Islands, confirming what Captain Benjamin Worth of the George had told him earlier in Valparaiso.

  If Porter succeeded in driving the British from the eastern Pacific and leaving it open for American vessels, he would be making an enormous contribution to the war effort. Of course, accomplishing this objective would also put money in his pocket—always a high priority for him and his crew. He estimated that the value of a fully loaded British whaler was in the neighborhood of $200,000—a mighty incentive.

  Porter advised Captain Gardner to run the Charles into Coquimbo and demand the protection of his ship from the government of Chile. He suggested to Captain West that the best course for him was to go with Gardner to Coquimbo and from there travel to Valparaiso and present a claim for damages against the Peruvian government.

  After seeing the two captains off, Porter tore after the Nimrod, racing northwest for Callao, over 1,500 miles away. He crowded on all sail, planning to capture her and recapture both the Barclay and the Walker. Located nine miles west of Lima, Callao was the center of Spanish commerce in the eastern Pacific and the most important port along the entire west coast of South America. Porter had to be careful. Callao was well-fortified with batteries, and a flotilla of deadly gunboats that could inflict severe damage in the harbor’s calm waters. On the way, Porter altered the appearance of the Essex to make her look like a Spanish merchantman. He painted a broad yellow streak around her hull as far as the fore channels, rigged false waist cloths as high as the quarterdeck nettings and painted ports on them, and then he got tarpaulins up and rigged a poop, complete with painted windows. He also painted the quarter galleries different colors.

  As the Essex sped north, she passed the tropic, and the men saw flying fish for the first time since leaving the coast of Brazil, raising their spirits. On the morning of March 29, a lookout at the main masthead spotted a vessel bound for Callao that looked like an American whaler, possibly the Barclay. Porter raced toward the port to cut her off, and as he closed in, he could see that she was indeed the Barclay. He wet his light sails in order to hold the wind better and strained forward. The Barclay had to pass the island of San Lorenzo in order to get into Callao, and in weathering the point of the island she was becalmed, but the Essex—only two and a half miles away now—shot in with the breeze to within one hundre
d yards of her, lowered boats, boarded, and took possession. Porter then towed her away from the island and out of the harbor in the teeth of contrary winds that had suddenly sprung up.

  The Essex now inched into Callao. Porter took a good look at the shipping in the harbor, hoping to find the Nimrod. But she wasn’t there, and, with the wind serving, he departed. Immediately after leaving he turned his attention to the Barclay. Her seamen were a sorry lot. Having been seven months at sea without relief, many were sick with scurvy. All of them were anxious to leave their pestilent ship and sign on to the Essex, and Porter was willing to have them. He told the Barclay’s rough old skipper, Gideon Randall, that he would be permitted to have his men back, but they were too weak to even sail the whaler to Valparaiso. If Randall decided to attempt the voyage anyway he would run the risk of being captured by Peruvian or British raiders. Well aware of the problem, Randall decided to remain in company with the Essex. Porter was glad to have him. He could be of considerable value, since he knew the whaling grounds, particularly around the Galapagos, where Porter planned to hunt.

  Midshipman John Cowan and eight men were placed on board the Barclay to supplement Randall’s crew, and both ships steered toward the Peruvian port of Paita, 625 miles north of Lima. Porter intended to look into Paita for any British vessels before sailing to the Galapagos Islands, where he expected to find a substantial portion of the enemy’s whaling fleet. Randall assured Porter, as everyone else had, that the Galapagos were the principal fishing grounds of British whalers.

  The following evening, April 4, gunner’s mate James Spafford, who had lingered on in great pain since his accidental shooting on the Island of Mocha, died. Before burying him, Porter ordered an inquest to satisfy the crew, and to relieve Lieutenant McKnight. Lieutenants Downes, Wilmer, Wilson, and marine lieutenant John Gamble were appointed to the board of inquest. After considering the matter carefully, they held the grief-stricken McKnight blameless for shooting Spafford, declaring it to have been an accident.

  A short time later, a mournful cry, “All hands, bury the dead, ahoy,” brought the men to the weather deck. With heads uncovered, they listened in respectful silence as Chaplain David Adams read the traditional service for the burial of the dead. At the conclusion, he pronounced the baleful words, “We therefore commit his body to the deep,” and poor Spafford, who had been sewn up in his hammock with two cannonballs attached to his feet, slid down a tipped board placed at the gangway and splashed into the sea.

  AFTER QUITTING THE VICINITY OF CALLAO, THE ESSEX AND THE Barclay stood WNW toward Paita. They kept an eye out for the Nimrod, but they never saw her. She seemed to have vanished. On April 6 at three o’clock, a lookout at the mainmast cried out a sail. Porter steered toward the stranger, but soon discovered that the sail was the Rock of Pelado. An hour later a lookout saw another sail and Porter again gave chase. He brought her to at seven o’clock. She was a Spanish brig out of Callao. Believing the Essex to be an English frigate, the captain and one of his passengers told Porter that Peru considered Britain an ally and the United States a neutral that could soon become an enemy. It went without saying that Peru considered itself part of Spain. The passenger suggested the Galapagos Islands as the best place to find American and British whalers.

  The next morning, April 7, the Essex and the Barclay continued north toward Paita. In order to search as much of the ocean as possible, they kept apart during the day and could barely see each other’s signals. At night they came together. In their journey north they passed near the small islands of Lobos de la Mare and Lobos de la Terre. Fifteen miles apart and well off the coast, they were devoid of vegetation, but the variety and volume of marine and bird life were astounding. Exotic birds covered the barren hills, while seals in great numbers cavorted in the nearby waters. Fish of all kinds were active, pursued by birds, seals, boneters, and porpoises. The same scene was repeated as they entered the Bay of Paita, where the sea boiled with aquatic life. Large fish and seals chasing small fish, were seen with flocks of birds hovering overhead. There may have been whales in the vicinity below the surface, but Porter did not see any.

  On April 11, the Essex and Barclay approached the harbor of Paita with the majestic saddle of Paita mountain in the background. Two crude catamarans approached and their skippers talked with Porter, telling him there were no vessels of interest in the harbor. He took them at their word, turned around, and shaped a course for the Galapagos Islands.

  CHAPTER

  12

  FORTUNE SMILES IN THE GALAPAGOS ISLANDS

  THE GALAPAGOS ISLANDS STRADDLE THE EQUATOR MORE than 500 miles off the Peruvian coast. The south equatorial, or Humbolt, current runs directly to the islands. Sweeping up the west coast of South America from approximately the southern tip of Tierra del Fuego, the famous current curves west at the Equator. In the Age of Sail, together with the prevailing trade winds, the current carried ships comfortably to the archipelago. It was said that it ran more than fifteen miles every twenty-four hours, but Porter suspected the actual rate was much higher, since he frequently met with violent ripples in the sea. The current was darker than the surrounding water, and easily identified. It created a unique climate in the waters around the Galapagos, causing the temperature of the water to rise higher than one might expect and the climate to be milder and drier. Upwelling along the current’s route caused the waters around the Galapagos to be remarkably rich in marine life.

  Porter used dead reckoning to navigate. The chronometer that had served him so well early in the voyage had been useless since they left St. Catharine’s. And he had no good opportunity to correct the dead reckoning by lunar observation since he was traveling in the warmer season (December to May), when rain was frequent—often coming daily—the skies cloudy much of the time, and the water temperature conducive to swimming.

  As the Essex progressed through the benign sea, Porter prepared the crew and the ship for combat. He put the magazine in good order, and anticipating calms around the islands, he organized seven boats to attack the enemy, assigning ten men to each boat. He assumed that seventy men in seven boats would be more than enough to capture any armed whaler. Lieutenant Downes was in charge of the attack force.

  On the morning of April 17, the Essex and the Barclay arrived off Chatham (San Cristobal) Island, the easternmost of the larger Galapagos. Porter thought it was Hood (Española) Island, but soon discovered that Hood was to the south and steered for it. He was in uncharted waters and had to be careful. Dangerous reefs, irregular, violent currents, as well as heavy swells that could throw a ship on the rocks, were constant hazards. Often the water was so deep near the shore that it was almost impossible to bring a vessel up by her anchors, leaving her at the mercy of a strong current or adverse wind. There were men aboard who had been to the Galapagos before, however, and they helped Porter navigate. He also had British Captain James Colnett’s charts (the only ones that existed), although he often found them to be inadequate, and in places dangerously misleading.

  Porter undoubtedly exaggerated the inadequacies of Colnett’s charts. In fact, Colnett was an accomplished craftsman. From 1772 to 1775 he sailed with Captain Cook on his second voyage of exploration around the world in the Resolution. Colnett was a midshipman at the time and could not have had a better tutor than Cook, who was the world’s leading cartographer.

  Colnett made his charts in 1793, when Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger sent him to explore the eastern Pacific in the merchant ship Rattler. Pitt sent him to find harbors where bases could be established to serve the growing fleet of British whalers fishing in what were universally recognized as the richest whaling grounds in the world, containing vast numbers of highly prized sperm whales. Pitt hoped Colnett would find ports that Britain could control, as they did Cape Town and St. Helena. Colnett was well schooled in how to keep a crew healthy on a long voyage, and he knew as much about the eastern Pacific as any officer in the Royal Navy.

  During the four years prior to Colne
tt’s voyage, the British developed an intense interest in the whale fishery along the west coast of South America and the Galapagos Islands. The demand for whale oil in Britain, especially sperm oil, was growing so fast in the early 1790s that their whaling fleet had a hard time keeping up.

  The pioneering voyage of the British whale ship Emilia from 1788 to 1790 had confirmed the rich rewards awaiting those who braved the passage around the Horn to fish in the eastern Pacific. On August 7, 1788, London’s largest whaling firm, Enderby & Sons, had sent Captain James Shields in the Emilia to ascertain just how plentiful sperm whales were off Chile and Peru. Samuel Enderby was a former American Tory who had fled to London before the Revolutionary War. Captain Shields traveled around Cape Horn, up the western coast of South America, and then to the Galapagos Islands. When he returned to London during the first week of March 1790, he reported that the potential for whaling in the eastern Pacific was vast. His glowing account of large sperm whales abounding in those waters started a rush to the area, led by Enderby, who immediately sent the Emilia back, along with the Atlantic, Kitty, and Greenwich. Other London firms sent eight more whalers.

  Britain’s need for sperm oil was so great that at one time Prime Minister Pitt considered recruiting Nantucket whale men—the finest in the world. He envisioned bringing them to England with their families, establishing them in a port city, requiring them to take an oath of allegiance to the king, and to carry on their vital business from British soil. Pitt talked seriously about the idea with William Rotch, a leading Nantucket whaler, who proposed building a fleet of thirty ships manned by five hundred men. Pitt liked the idea, but English whalers and economic nationalists in Parliament blocked his plans. They were more interested in building a British fleet than handing the business over to Americans. Rotch was not deterred, however. He turned around and set up his colony in Dunkirk under French auspices. Nonetheless, demand for sperm oil remained so high that in 1792 the British permitted a small colony of Nantucket whalers to be established at Milford Haven in Wales. They were required to take an oath of allegiance to the king, but they had no trouble doing it.