by Dean King
I soon felt myself perfectly at home with the American seamen; so much so that I chose to mess with them. My shipmates also participated in similar feelings in both ships. All idea that we had been trying to shoot out each other’s brains so shortly before seemed forgotten. We eat together, drank together, joked, sung, laughed, told yarns; in short, a perfect union of ideas, feelings, and purposes seemed to exist among all hands.
A corresponding state of unanimity existed, I was told, among the officers. Commodore Decatur showed himself to be a gentleman as well as a hero in his treatment of the officers of the Macedonian. When Captain Carden offered his sword to the commodore, remarking, as he did so, “I am an undone man. I am the first British naval officer that has struck his flag to an American”: the noble commodore either refused to receive the sword or immediately returned it, smiling as he said, “You are mistaken, sir; your Guerriere has been taken by us, and the flag of a frigate was struck before yours.” This somewhat revived the spirits of the old captain; but, no doubt, he still felt his soul stung with shame and mortification at the loss of his ship. Participating as he did in the haughty spirit of the British aristocracy, it was natural for him to feel galled and wounded to the quick, in the position of a conquered man.
We were now making the best of our way to America. Notwithstanding the patched-up condition of the Macedonian, she was far superior, in a sailing capacity, to her conqueror. The United States had always been a dull sailer, and had been christened by the name of the Old Wagon. Whenever a boat came alongside of our frigate and the boatswain’s mate was ordered to “pipe away” the boat’s crew, he used to sound his shrill call on the whistle and bawl out, “Away, Wagoners, away,” instead of “away, United States men, away” This piece of pleasantry used to be rebuked by the officers, but in a manner that showed they enjoyed the joke. They usually replied, “Boatswain’s mate, you rascal, pipe away United States men, not Wagoners. We have no wagoners on board of a ship.” Still, in spite of rebuke, the joke went on, until it grew stale by repetition. One thing was made certain however by the sailing qualities of the Macedonian; which was, that if we had been disposed to escape from our foe before the action, we could have done so with all imaginable ease. This however, would have justly exposed us to disgrace, while our capture did not. There was every reason why the United States should beat us. She was larger in size, heavier in metal, more numerous in men, and stronger built than the Macedonian. Another fact in her favor was that our captain at first mistook her for the Essex, which carried short carronades, hence he engaged her at long shot at first; for, as we had the weather gage, we could take what position we pleased. But this maneuver only wasted our shot and gave her the advantage, as she actually carried larger metal than we did. When we came to close action, the shot from the United States went “through and through” our ship, while ours struck her sides and fell harmlessly into the water. This is to be accounted for both by the superiority of the metal and of the ship. Her guns were heavier and her sides thicker than ours. Some have said that her sides were stuffed with cork. Of this, however, I am not certain. Her superiority, both in number of men and guns, may easily be seen by the following statistics. We carried forty-nine guns; long eighteen-pounders on the main deck, and thirty-two-pound carronades on the quarter deck and forecastle. Our whole number of hands, including officers, men and boys, was three hundred. The United States carried four hundred and fifty men and fifty-four guns: long twenty-four-pounders on the main deck, and forty-two-pound carronades on the quarter deck and forecastle. So that in actual force she was immensely our superior.
To these should be added the consideration that the men in the two ships fought under the influence of different motives. Many of our hands were in the service against their will; some of them were Americans, wrongfully impressed and inwardly hoping for defeat: while nearly every man in our ship sympathized with the great principle for which the American nation so nobly contended in the war of 1812. What that was, I suppose all my readers understand. The British, at war with France, had denied the Americans the right to trade thither. She had impressed American seamen and forcibly compelled their service in her navy; she had violated the American flag by insolently searching their vessels for her runaway seamen. Free trade and sailors’ rights, therefore, were the objects contended for by the Americans. With these objects our men could but sympathize, whatever our officers might do.
On the other hand, the crew of our opponent had all shipped voluntarily for the term of two years only (most of our men were shipped for life). They understood what they fought for; they were better used in the service. What wonder, then, that victory adorned the brows of the American commander? To have been defeated under such circumstances would have been a source of lasting infamy to any naval officer in the world. In the matter of fighting, I think there is but little difference in either nation. Place them in action under equal circumstances and motives, and who could predict which would be victor? Unite them together, they would subject the whole world. So close are the alliances of blood, however, between England and America, that it is to be earnestly desired, they may never meet in mortal strife again. If either will fight, which is to be deprecated as a crime and a folly, let it choose an enemy less connected by the sacred ties of consanguinity.
Our voyage was one of considerable excitement. The seas swarmed with British cruisers, and it was extremely doubtful whether the United States would elude their grasp and reach the protection of an American port with her prize. I hoped most sincerely to avoid them, as did most of my old shipmates; in this we agreed with our captors, who wisely desired to dispose of one conquest before they attempted another. Our former officers, of course, were anxious for the sight of a British flag. But we saw none, and, after a prosperous voyage from the scene of conflict, we heard the welcome cry of “Land ho!” The United States entered the port of New London; but, owing to a sudden shift of the wind, the Macedonian had to lay off and on for several hours. Had an English cruiser found us in this situation, we should have been easily recovered; and, as it was extremely probable we should fall in with one, I felt quite uneasy, until, after several hours, we made out to run into the pretty harbor of Newport. We fired a salute as we came to an anchor, which was promptly returned by the people on shore.
With a few exceptions, our wounded men were in a fair way to recover by the time we reached Newport. The last of them, who died of their wounds on board, was buried just before we got in. His name was Thomas Whittaker; he had been badly wounded by splinters. While he lived, he endured excessive torture. At last his sufferings rendered him crazy, in which sad state he died. He was sewed up in his hammock by his messmates and carried on a grating to the larboard bow port. There Mr. Archer, a midshipman of the Macedonian, read the beautiful burial service of the church of England. When he came to that most touching passage, “we commit the body of our brother to the deep,” the grating was elevated, and, amid the most profound silence, the body fell heavily into the waters. As it dropped into the deep, a sigh escaped from many a friendly bosom, and an air of passing melancholy shrouded many a face with sadness. Old recollections were busy there, calling up the losses of the battle; but it was only momentary. The men brushed away their tears, muttered “It’s no use to fret,” and things once more wore their wonted aspect.
At Newport our wounded were carried on shore. Our former officers also left us here. When my master, Mr. Walker, took his leave of me, he appeared deeply affected. Imprinting a kiss on my cheek, the tears started from his eyes, and he bade me adieu. I have not seen him since.
While the Macedonian suffered around 104 killed and wounded, the United States had only a dozen killed or wounded. Decatur had fought well, and his much sturdier ship had protected her crew. The prize eventually sailed from Newport, Rhode Island, to New York, where Leech, a resourceful sort, made money giving tours of her while describing the battle. Leech went on to serve in the United States Navy.
Along with the losses o
f the Guerriere (August 19, 1812) and the Java (December 29, 1812) to the USS Constitution, the capture of the Macedonian was shocking news to the British, whose experience so far had dictated that any Royal Navy frigate should defeat any frigate of any other nation. The Royal Navy had other problems as well Hundreds of pesky American privateers, defying the British blockade of the American coast, took to the North Atlantic and Caribbean waters to troll for British merchantmen. Though they rarely attacked British warships, they could be amazingly brazen in British waters. U.S. privateers managed to take more than a thousand merchant vessels, although many of them were retaken on their way into United States ports for condemnation.
1 The dimensions of the structural parts of a vessel regarded collectively.
George Little
An Unjustifiable and Outrageous Pursuit
1812–1813
DESPITE THE FREQUENT UNFAIRNESS and cruelty of naval life, the rigorous rules and severe punishments for transgressing them ultimately brought a certain respectableness and pride to the service, especially in “happy” ships, governed by fair and competent commanders. Serving one’s country augmented that pride. Privateering, on the other hand, was considered by many as an activity only a notch more respectable than piracy, and very frequently resembled it.
In this passage, a young merchant seaman unlucky at business, George Little, originally from Massachusetts, finds himself compelled to ship on board a privateer at the outbreak of hostilities between Britain and the United States. During its wartime cruises, the privateer Paul Jones, on which Little eventually ends up, was captained by J. Hazzard and later A. Taylor. Carrying a complement of 120 men and pierced for seventeen guns, she was originally woefully underarmed. With a show of men in the rigging and cut-off masts painted black to resemble cannon (along with three real ones), she bluffed a fourteen-gun British merchantman into submission and thus equipped herself for future battles, of which she would see many.
I SAILED on my sixth voyage, and arrived safely in Buenos Ayres. After having been there a few days, another vessel arrived from Rio, having persons on board with powers to attach my vessel and cargo. I soon learned that the house at Rio in whose employment I sailed had failed for a large amount, and that these persons were their creditors. I was now left without a vessel, and, fearing that I should lose the funds placed in their hands, lost no time in getting back to Rio; and when there, I found the condition of the house even worse than I had anticipated; for all my two years’ hard earnings were gone, with the exception of about five hundred dollars.
With this small sum I took passage in the ship Scioto, bound for Baltimore. I was induced to do this because little doubt was then entertained that there would be a war between the United States and England, and I was anxious to get home, if possible, before it was declared. We were fortunate enough to arrive in safety, although the war had been actually declared fifteen days before we got inside of the Capes of Virginia. When we arrived in Baltimore, I found the most active preparations were in progress to prosecute the war. A number of privateers were fitting out; and every where the American flag might be seen flying, denoting the places of rendezvous; in a word, the most intense excitement prevailed throughout the city, and the position of a man was not at all enviable if it were ascertained that he was in any degree favorably disposed towards the British. It happened to fall to my lot to be an eye-witness to the unpleasant affair of tarring and feathering a certain Mr. T., and also to the demolishing of the Federal Republican printing-office by the mob.
Once more I returned to Boston to see my friends, whom I found pretty much in the same situation as when I left them. Two years had made but little alteration, except that my sister was married, and my father, being aged, had retired from the Navy, and taken up his residence in Marshfield. Every persuasion was now used to induce me to change my vocation, backed by the strong reasoning that the war would destroy commerce, and that no alternative would be left for seamen but the unhallowed pursuit of privateering. These arguments had great weight, and I began to think seriously of entering into some business on shore; but then most insuperable difficulties arose in my mind as to the nature of the business I should pursue. My means were limited, quite too much so to enter into the mercantile line; and the only branch of it with which I was acquainted being the “commission,” another obstacle presented itself, which was to fix upon an eligible location. These difficulties, however, soon vanished, for a wealthy relative offered me the use of his credit, and a young friend with whom I was acquainted, having just returned from the south, informed me that there was a fine opening in Richmond, Virginia; whereupon we immediately entered into a mutual arrangement to establish a commission-house in that place. The necessary preparations were made, and we started for the south.
To my great surprise and mortification, however, when we reached Norfolk, I ascertained that my partner was without funds; neither had he the expectation of receiving any. This changed the current of my fortunes altogether. I was deceived by him; consequently all intercourse was broken off between us. As my prospects were now blasted, in reference to establishing myself in business on shore, I resolved once more to embark on my favorite element, and try my luck there again. Here too, in Norfolk, all was bustle and excitement—drums beating, colors flying, soldiers enlisting, men shipping in the States’ service, and many privateers fitting out,—creating such a scene of confusion as I had never before witnessed.
Young, and of an ardent temperament, I could not look upon all these stirring movements an unmoved spectator; accordingly, I entered on board the George Washington privateer, in the capacity of first lieutenant. She mounted one twelve-pounder on a pivot and two long nines, with a complement of eighty men. She was in all respects a beautiful schooner, of the most exact symmetrical proportions, about one hundred and twenty tons’ burden, and said to be as swift as any thing that floated the ocean. In reference to this enterprise, I must confess, in my cooler moments, that I had some qualms: to be sure, here was an opportunity of making a fortune; but then it was counterbalanced by the possibility of getting my head knocked off, or a chance of being thrown into prison for two or three years: however, I had gone too far to recede, and I determined to make the best of it. Accordingly, I placed what little funds I had in the hands of Mr. G., of Norfolk, and repaired on board of the privateer, with my dunnage contained in a small trunk and clothes-bag. On the morning of July 20th, 1812, the officers and crew being all on board, weighed anchor, made sail, and stood down the river, with the stars and stripes floating in the breeze, and was saluted with a tremendous cheering from the shore. I now was on board of a description of craft with which I was entirely unacquainted; I had, therefore, much to learn. The lieutenants and prize-masters, however, were a set of clever fellows; but the captain was a rough, uncouth sort of a chap and appeared to me to be fit for little else than fighting and plunder. The crew were a motley set indeed, composed of all nations; they appeared to have been scraped together from the lowest dens of wretchedness and vice, and only wanted a leader to induce them to any acts of daring and desperation. Our destination, in the first place, was to cruise on the Spanish main to intercept the English traders between the West India Islands and the ports on the main. This cruising ground was chosen because, in case of need, we might run into Carthagena to refit and water. When we had run down as far as Lynnhaven Bay, information was received from a pilot-boat that the British frigate Belvidere was cruising off the Capes. This induced our captain to put to sea with the wind from the southward, as the privateer’s best sailing was on a wind.
On the morning of 22d of July, got under way from Lynnhaven Bay, and stood to sea. At 9 A.M., when about 10 miles outside of Cape Henry lighthouse, a sail was discovered directly in the wind’s eye of us, bearing down under a press of canvass. Soon ascertaining she was a frigate, supposed to be the Belvidere, we stood on upon a wind until she came within short gunshot. Our foresail was now brailed up and the topsail lowered on the cap; at the sa
me time, the frigate took in all her light sails and hauled up her courses. As the privateer lay nearer the wind than the frigate, the latter soon dropped in our wake, and when within half-gunshot, we being under cover of her guns, she furled her top-gallant sails; at the same moment we hauled aft the fore sheet, hoisted away the topsail, and tacked. By this maneuver the frigate was under our lee. We took her fire, and continued to make short boards, and in one hour were out of the reach of her guns, without receiving any damage. This was our first adventure, and we hailed it as a good omen. The crew were all in high spirits, because the frigate was considered to be as fast as any thing on our coast at that time, and, furthermore, the captain had not only gained the confidence of the crew by this daring maneuver, but we found we could rely upon our heels for safety
Nothing material occurred until we got into the Mona passage, when we fell in with the Black Joke privateer, of New York; and being unable to ascertain her character, in consequence of a thick fog, we came into collision and exchanged a few shots, before we found out we both wore the same national colors. This vessel was a sloop of not very prepossessing appearance; but as she had obtained some celebrity for sailing in smooth water, having previously been an Albany packet, she was fitted out as a privateer. In a sea-way, however, being very short, she could not make much more head-way than a tub. It was agreed, between the respective captains of the two vessels, to cruise in company, and in the event of a separation, to make a rendezvous at Carthagena. We soon ascertained that our craft would sail nearly two knots to the Black Joke’s one, and it may well be supposed that our company-keeping was of short duration. In two days after parting with her, the long-wished-for cry of “Sail ho!” was sung out from the mast-head. Made all sail in chase. When within short gunshot, let her have our midship gun, when she immediately rounded to, took in sail, hoisted English colors, and seemed to be preparing to make a gallant defence. In this we were not mistaken, for as we ranged up, she opened a brisk cannonading upon us. I now witnessed the daring intrepidity of Captain S.; for, while the brig was pouring a destructive fire into us, with the greatest coolness he observed to the crew, “That vessel, my lads, must be ours in ten minutes after I run this craft under her lee quarter.” By this time we had sheered up under her stern, and received the fire of her stern-chasers, which did us no other damage than cutting away some of our ropes and making wind-holes through the sails. It was the work of a moment; the schooner luffed up under the lee of the brig, and, with almost the rapidity of thought, we were made fast to her main chains. “Boarders away!” shouted Capt. S. We clambered up the sides of the brig, and dropped on board of her like so many locusts, not, however, till two of our lads were run through with boarding-pikes. The enemy made a brave defence, but were soon overpowered by superior numbers, and the captain of the brig was mortally wounded. In twenty minutes after we got alongside, the stars and stripes were waving triumphantly over the British flag. In this affair, we had two killed and seven slightly wounded, besides having some of our rigging cut away, and sails somewhat riddled. The brig was from Jamaica, bound to the Gulf of Maracaibo1, her cargo consisted of sugar, fruit, &c. She was two hundred tons’ burden, mounted six six-pounders, with a complement of fifteen men, all told. She was manned with a prize-master and crew, and ordered to any port in the United States wherever she could get in.