In Pursuit of the Essex

by Hughes, Ben;

  There had been several developments in Valparaiso in Hillyar’s absence. On the afternoon of 18 April, having transferred eight men and one petty officer to the Essex’s prize crew, the Cherub sailed for Nuka Hiva. Four days later, Acting Lieutenant John Cowell died. Although Porter had departed for Santiago, the majority of the British and American officers and men attended his funeral as well as a number of locals. On 26 April ninety-three prisoners were transferred on board the Essex Junior from the Sacramento. Fifty-two were rowed across from the Phoebe while Porter and the other American officers left their lodgings in town and went on board. With the sloop’s departure for the United States on the 27th, only eleven of Porter’s men remained in town. Already exchanged, Lieutenant McKnight, Midshipman Lyman and Chaplain Adams would sail to England on board the Phoebe, a measure deemed necessary by prize law as the Essex’s papers had been ‘lost’ during the battle. Eight others, including seamen William Cole and William Whitney, were too badly wounded to travel.15

  On 7 May Hillyar returned to Santiago. With everything proceeding smoothly in Valparaiso, he stayed in the capital to take up the British merchants’ case with the government and celebrate the peace. On the 10th he was granted the freedom of the city and attended a Te Deum in the cathedral and a party in Government House before watching a firework display that lasted ‘three successive nights’. On 13 May Hillyar placed an advert in the Monitor Araucano announcing the Phoebe’s imminent departure and informing all merchants that ‘her register for transporting specie is open’. Two days later Hillyar took part in a procession with the ‘supreme director, clergy, [and the] chief officers of the state’. Passing between a double line of troops and the King’s Colours, the dignitaries entered the cathedral, where an address was given. Hillyar was gratified to hear himself mentioned by name. Further meetings at Government House followed before Hillyar left for Valparaiso on 17 May. Once he departed the Evangelical tracts which he had ‘promulgated with so much assiduity … were … collected by order of the [Catholic] bishop and publically burnt’.16

  When news of the peace reached Valparaiso, spontaneous celebrations broke out. Gardiner, who had been transferred to the Essex as part of her seventy-strong prize crew under Lieutenant Pearson, noted that ‘the joy and satisfaction seemed to be general: the Royalists who had been confined were liberated & Viva el re[y] Viva la patria was echoed in every direction, even by many who had before been adherents to the opposite party’. In the midst of the celebrations, William Carter, the Phoebe’s master at arms, deserted and on 17 May the fort hoisted Spanish colours and fired a salute which was returned by the three British frigates in the bay. Hillyar arrived on the 19th. Greeted by Governor Formas and a party of mounted officials on the outskirts, he rode into town with the church bells ringing in his honour and fireworks fizzing overhead. ‘I had the satisfaction of witnessing … the pleasing effects of returning tranquillity’, he wrote to Secretary Croker. ‘Many respectable officers, [whom,] when I had left [had been] prisoners, were enjoying the blessings of liberty … ships that were dismantled when I quitted the port, were loading and nearly ready for sea; stores were emptying their long enclosed contents and commercial bustle and cheerfulness had succeeded the … anxiety and inactivity attendant on a calamitous war.’17

  On 21 May HMS Briton, a 38-gun Fifth Rate of the Leda class, arrived in Valparaiso. ‘She … had [also] been sent round [the Horn] in search of the Essex’, Gardiner recalled, ‘which it was supposed in England had escaped us. Had they come out before all the [whaling] trade was destroyed, they might have been of some service, but John Bull like, after the horse is stolen, he keeps the stable door shut.’ Hillyar ordered the Briton’s captain, Sir Thomas Staines, to join the Tagus in a cruise of the Sandwich Islands. Over the next ten days, while the new arrivals watered their ships, two more Phoebes deserted and on 24 May a strong northerly gale brought a heavy sea into the bay. The bad weather delayed the Briton’s watering and blew two merchantmen on shore. Over the next week the eight wounded American prisoners Porter had left behind were brought on board the Phoebe along with the American officers due to travel to England while the Tagus and Briton received thirty Spanish Loyalist officers to repatriate to Peru. On 30 May Gardiner went on shore for the last time. ‘[I took] leave of Valparaiso & all my friends in this part of the world’, he recalled, ‘not … I must confess, without some regret as it was in all probability the last time I would ever see them.’ That afternoon, after Hillyar had ordered the frigate unmoored, Able Seaman John Peters deserted and Joseph Waple, one of the wounded American prisoners, went over the side and swam for shore.18

  At 7 a.m. on 31 May the Phoebe, Briton, Tagus and Essex warped out of the harbour. On arrival off Juan Fernandez on 5 June the Tagus and Briton sailed north for Callao, en route to the Sandwich Islands, while the Phoebe and Essex turned south for the Horn. Beset by bad weather, for the next seven days Hillyar and Pearson lit their stern lanterns to ensure that they remained in company. For the Essex, the voyage proved particularly arduous. ‘Our masts & rigging were greatly damaged’, Gardiner recalled, ‘our ship leaky and our whole crew, officers included, only amounted to seventy; fifteen of whom, from sickness were rendered useless’. On 25 June the ships changed course to the northeast. The next forty-eight hours saw them cover over 300 miles and on the morning of the 27th they entered the Atlantic. Early July saw the ships averaging 8 knots as they made for Rio de Janeiro, the Phoebe tacking occasionally to allow the Essex to catch up.19

  On 9 July, after seventy-three days at sea, the Essex Junior arrived off New York. Despite the cramped conditions, the voyage had passed smoothly. The winds had been in the Americans’ favour, they had rounded the Horn with ease under topgallant steering sails and the ship was abundantly supplied. Porter spent the voyage writing face-saving reports while Farragut attended the wounded. At Sandy Hook, the Essex Junior fell in with HMS Saturn, one of the 58-gun rasée Fourth Rates the Admiralty had ordered cut down from old 74s as part of their strategy to counter the threat posed by the American ‘super-frigates’. Operating as part of the New York blockading squadron, the Saturn’s captain, James Nash ordered Porter to heave to and sent a boat aboard. ‘Nash … treated me … with great civility’, Porter recalled. ‘[He] examined the papers of the Essex Junior; furnished me with late newspapers; and sent me some oranges – at the same time making offers of his services.’ Two hours later, as the ships stood in on the same tack and Porter, perusing the press, learnt of the bitter turn the war had taken, the situation soured. ‘[I] was again brought to’, Porter explained, ‘the papers [were re]examined and the ship’s hold overhauled by a boat’s crew and officer … It was added that Captain Hillyar had no authority to make such arrangements … and that the Essex Junior [must] be detained.’ Porter was not about to allow such an insult to go unchallenged. Declaring himself no longer bound by the terms of his parole, he began plotting his escape.

  The next morning, with the Essex Junior close under the Saturn’s lee forty miles off the eastern point of Long Island, Porter boarded one of his whaleboats and began pulling for shore. Leaving Downes in charge of the Essex Junior, the Bostonian ensured it remained between himself and the Saturn for as long as possible, but his escape was soon discovered. The Saturn beat to quarters, wore round under the Essex Junior’s stern and gave chase. ‘Fortunately … a thick fog came on’, Porter recalled, ‘upon which I changed my course and entirely eluded further pursuit.’ Less fortunate, Downes was retaken at 11 a.m. as the fog lifted. Once the cartel’s crew had been inspected and the passport that Hillyar had issued was re-examined, the British admitted they had made a mistake and the Americans were allowed to proceed. The Essex Junior drew a salvo from a nervous shore battery as she approached New York Harbour that evening, ‘but the ship was not struck by a single shot’ and Downes anchored safely on the morning of 23 July. Porter, meanwhile, had reached the village of Babylon on Long Island and was proceeding overland to New York.20

  On 14 Jul
y electrical storms and heavy seas hit the Phoebe and Essex off the River Plate estuary. Despite having a rotten bowsprit, the latter ‘met with no accident’, while the Phoebe’s mizzen staysail was split and blown away. Hillyar also found that his main topsail log lines had been ‘eaten through and much damaged by rats’ and at 12.30 a.m. on the 15 July the Phoebe ‘shipped a heavy sea’ which washed the jolly boat from the stern davit ‘and … carried away the larboard gangway’. On the morning of 20 July Hillyar spoke the Fanny, a British merchantman bound for Buenos Ayres, whose captain told him of Wellington’s victory at the Battle of Toulouse and the advent of general peace in Europe. ‘This welcome news … was … received with … joy and enthusiasm’, Gardiner recalled. ‘Like an electric shock it passed almost instantaneously from one [man] to another.’

  A week later the ships arrived at Rio de Janeiro. Hillyar received a letter from the Admiralty approving his decision to pursue the Essex and on 29 July Manley Dixon came on board. After promoting Pearson to the rank of commander, he gathered the ship’s company and read the declaration of peace between Britain and France. The crew ‘mannd [the] Yards and gave three cheers’ in appreciation.

  Over the next few weeks, while awaiting the construction of a new bowsprit, the Essex underwent further repair. On July 4 Admiral Dixon purchased the frigate for the Royal Navy ‘at six pounds sterling per ton’, a price Chaplain Adams considered a ‘small valuation’ and a new captain, Thomas Morgan, took command. The next day ‘a hundred and seventy men were sent on board from the different ships’ in the harbour. Amongst them were thirty-four Phoebes, several supernumeries Hillyar had picked up at Valparaiso and Callao and Midshipman Gardiner, who ‘had the good fortune’ to be appointed Second Lieutenant. In the meantime the British officers had plenty of time to become reacquainted with Rio. Gardiner ‘was forcibly struck with the appearance of the place which seemed far to exceed the description I gave on our first arrival. It was then a mean and shabby looking place, but was now a large & handsome city. Such is the effect of comparison, by which all our judgements, however erroneous, must be formed. In the former instance we had come from England in the latter from Chili.’

  In mid-August Dixon received word that HMS Nereus, a 32-gun frigate stationed in the River Plate since 1811, was to call at Rio en route for England. As she was carrying large quantities of specie, it was decided that Hillyar should wait for her before making his return. The delay proved too much for Lieutenant McKnight and Midshipman Lyman. Desperate to reach the US before the war ended, they were granted permission to travel on board the Adonis, a Swedish merchantman which left for England on 22 August. Twenty-three days later HMS Phoebe, Essex and Nereus set sail, with Gardiner ‘not a little rejoiced at having our head again turned towards Old England’. The monotony was broken on 16 September when they fell in with a strange sail. Not recognising her white ensign, Hillyar brought her to. She proved to be a French merchantman bound for the West Indies and flying Bourbon colours, a flag rarely seen on the high seas since the French Revolution twenty-five years before. On 10 October, the frigates passed HMS Alpheus convoying several merchantmen to Brazil. Two weeks later a homebound convoy from the East Indies which had sailed via Saint Helena was sighted and on 12 November, after enduring a week of contrary winds, the frigates sighted Lizard Point. The next afternoon, seventeen months and twenty days since Hillyar and his men had left home waters, the frigates anchored in Plymouth Sound.21

  Epilogue: Loose Ends, 7 July 1814 – 14 August 1870

  The men of the Essex received a hero’s welcome. On 7 July 1814 Porter was saluted by swivel guns, musketry and cannon as he made his triumphant procession from the village of Babylon to Brooklyn, New York. Having crossed the East River in the steamboat ferry Nassau, he found Downes and the rest of the men who had made the passage from Valparaiso awaiting him. The Essex Junior had already been sold to the US Navy for $25,000 and crowds of cheering townsfolk had flocked to the quayside. News of Porter’s epic cruise, printed in Niles’ Weekly Register, had preceded his arrival. Converted into a much-needed hero for a public tired of war and starved of good news, Porter’s carriage was mobbed. The crowd unhitched the horses and bodily pulled it to City Hall. Porter was overwhelmed. ‘The reception … made an impression on my mind, never to be effaced’, he recalled.1

  By 20 July, however, the Essexes were broke. Frustrated in their applications for back pay, they wrote to Porter who forwarded their requests to William Jones, the new Secretary of the US Navy. Compared to the glacial processes of the British Admiralty, Jones moved swiftly and within five days Porter had received an advance of $30,000 to be divided amongst himself and his crew. Several wounded men also applied for pensions: on 29 July William Kingsbury, whose burns had resulted in his being ‘deprived of the perfect use of both his hands’, was granted $10 per month, while the Armourer, Bennet Field, who had had his left leg amputated above the knee, was awarded a monthly payment of $18 on 7 August. The Essex’s officers, meanwhile, were busy seeking promotion. On 19 July two of the frigate’s midshipman travelled to Washington to personally plead their cases and Lieutenant Maury wrote to the Secretary of State, James Monroe, requesting his commission be backdated.2

  On 27 August another celebration was held in New York. Gathering at the Battery with colours flying, the Essexes proceeded to Tammany Hall led by Commodore Decatur’s band where an ‘elegant dinner’ was served. Niles’ Weekly Register recorded that no less than 184 former crewmembers attended, amongst them several men who had been wounded. Porter’s reception at Philadelphia was even more enthusiastic. Passing down streets thronged with cheering crowds, he accompanied the mayor to Mansion House Hotel and was carried inside to a series of huzzahs. Afterwards Porter and Farragut returned to Chester where the captain was reunited with his family and introduced to his second son, David Dixon, who had been born eight and half months after the Essex had departed.3

  Porter’s next port of call was Washington. Taken to dinner at the White House by Secretary Jones, he regaled President Madison with stories of his exploits in the Pacific. Porter also enjoyed an alcoholic reunion with Commodore Bainbridge before resurfacing in New York on 22 August where he learnt that the British had landed 4,000 troops under Major-General Robert Ross just north of the Potomac River which were marching on Washington. With the bulk of its regulars deployed on the Canadian front, the American army was hopelessly unprepared. Militia and auxiliary units were mobilised and Porter was asked to gather his former crewmates and set out for the capital. Arriving at Baltimore on the 27th, the Bostonian learnt he was too late. After a desultory defence, Washington had been occupied by the British. Ross burnt several public buildings, including the White House, and two partially-constructed men-of-war were destroyed in the naval yard. One of them, a 44-gun frigate named the Essex, had been destined as Porter’s next command.

  Marching south from Washington, the British stopped at Alexandria, where Ross had arranged to rendezvous with the Royal Navy flotilla based in Chesapeake Bay. While the British gathered tribute from the townsfolk, who had surrendered without a shot being fired, Porter took 500 sailors and marines downriver to cut off their retreat. A barely believable incident followed. Dressed in civilian clothes and accompanied by one other naval officer, Porter rode up to the docks at Alexandria to perform a personal reconnaissance. Spotting a young British midshipman supervising the loading of boats at the quayside, Porter charged down to take him prisoner, but was thwarted when the cravat by which his companion had bodily hauled the terrified young officer off his feet broke in his hands. From 1 September to 6 September Porter and his men manned a land battery overlooking a bend in the Potomac River. Aided by local militia, they engaged the British as they sailed back to Chesapeake Bay, resulting in two dozen killed and wounded on both sides.4

  The arrival of the Phoebes at Plymouth, by contrast, was a rather low-key affair. The American war had always been a sideshow for the British and although the dramatic capture of USS Chesapeake in
June 1813 had fired the public’s imagination, interest had since waned. Hillyar’s clinical victory at Valparaiso lacked the romance of Broke’s and his success was overshadowed by peace with the French. While Hillyar would be made a Companion of the Order of the Bath in June 1815 along with 500 other navy and army officers, no official celebrations were held. Instead, the captain spent mid-November writing reports detailing his cruise and defending his actions against the vitriol he knew would be forthcoming from Porter, while his crew fought an army of rats which had been multiplying since infesting the frigate at Valparaiso. On 4 December the entire company was rowed ashore to a local church to give ‘thanks to the almighty god for their safe deliverance back to their native country’.5

  Two days later the seemingly inevitable arguments over the division of prize money began. Learning that Manley Dixon had claimed a share as flag officer in charge of the South American Station, Hillyar protested that as the Phoebe had been ‘exclusively under Admiralty Orders’, the money should not be paid. More secure was Hillyar’s commission on the specie he had carried back from South America. With ‘rather more than Twenty Thousand Pounds on board in … bullion and precious stones … received at Lima, Valparaiso and Rio de Janiero’, Hillyar’s cut would amount to some £600, equivalent to three and a half years’ of a captain’s pay.6

  In the first week of December Hillyar wrote to the Admiralty supporting several of his men’s claims for promotion. Nicholas Nickenson, the Phoebe’s acting purser, was praised for his ‘most active and most useful employment on deck during the action with the Essex’; and acting master Miller was lauded for making the ‘fullest exertions’ after Lieutenant Ingram had been hit. As a result, in 1816 Miller was appointed sailing master on HMS Minden, a 74-gun Third Rate, aboard which he would take part in the Bombardment of Algiers later that year.7