Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors: Tales of 1812 Part 8

The _Chesapeake_ quivered from the shock. In that second, in the time it takes a man to catch his breath, the whole aspect of affairs had changed. Mr. White, the sailing-master, was immediately killed; Mr.

Ballard, the Fourth Lieutenant, was mortally wounded. Ten sailors fell dead to the decks. Twenty-three were badly hurt. The bulwarks were crushed in, and the cabin was torn to pieces.

"Steady!" roared Lawrence. "Steady, boys, have at them!"

There was a marine with a musket in one of the Englishman's tops. He was aiming at the resplendent figure in gold epaulets, carefully as one aims at a target, and at last he pulled the trigger. Lawrence fell down on one knee; but leaning against the companionway, he pulled himself erect again. Not an expression or exclamation came from him; but his white knee breeches were streaked and stained with red. Nearer yet the two s.h.i.+ps drifted. Their cras.h.i.+ng broadsides scorched each other. The Englishmen cheered, and the Yankees answered them--the volunteers from the Charlestown yard were giving a good account of themselves. But several times the _Chesapeake_ yawed and fell off her course as if she had lost her head, like a man dizzy from a blow that deadens the brain.

And good reason why: three men in succession were shot away from her wheel. The expert riflemen placed in the _Shannon's_ mizzentop were doing their work well. A puff of wind took the American all aback, she fell off and swung about. Her anchor caught in the _Shannon's_ after port. And now not a gun could be brought to bear! Whole gun's crews left their places and plunged down the companionway to the deck below.

But the _Shannon_ was taking advantage of her opportunity. Charges of grape and canister raked and swept the decks.

Lawrence looked in despair at the frightful havoc. He knew what now would happen. Every minute he expected to see the English boarders come tumbling on board. Lieutenant c.o.x had been sent below to take charge of the second division. Lawrence looked for an officer. The only one in sight was Lieutenant Ludlow. Had it not been for his uniform no one would have known him. He was blood and wounds from head to foot. He could not stand erect, and was dragging himself about the deck, one useless leg trailing behind him.

"The bugler! call the bugler!" thundered Lawrence. "To repel boarders on the spar-deck! Where is the after-guard?"

Ludlow fell, better than clambered, down the main-hatch. "Pa.s.s the word for the bugler!" he cried. "Boarders away!" But the bugler could not be found. And good reason why. He was down in the deep hold hiding amid the stores. Young Lieutenant c.o.x heard the order. "Boarders away!" he shouted. As he started to rally his men and rush up from below, he was met by the crowd fleeing from the terrible slaughter that was taking place above. But at last he managed to work his way up the companion ladder. He too was wounded and bleeding--a splinter had gashed him in the neck and another in the shoulder. What a sight he saw! Lawrence, his beloved friend, his idol, weakly holding fast to one of the belaying-pins, still repeating his fruitless cry for the men to rally on the deck. As c.o.x leaped toward him a second bullet from the mizzentop struck the captain in the abdomen--c.o.x caught him as he fell.

Lawrence grasped his hand.

"Don't give up the s.h.i.+p!" he cried weakly. "Don't give up the s.h.i.+p!" He placed one arm about the boy's shoulder. He was so young; he loved his leader so much. He was faint from loss of blood. It was his first action. Never before had he seen dying men, or listened to the groans and shrieks of the wounded. Who would expect him to break away from that last fond grasp that had not relaxed? He did not know that he was now commander! Almost carrying his wounded leader, he staggered down the ladder to where the surgeon and his mates were busy at their direful work. He did not see, just as he left the deck, the English boarders headed by their own Captain, the brave and gallant Broke, spring over the railing. He did not know that he and the wounded Ludlow were the only officers now left to handle s.h.i.+p.... As the surgeon hastened to Lawrence's side, c.o.x knelt down upon one knee. He could not control the tears of sorrow and bitterness. The whole scene of the previous night flashed through his mind. Lawrence, his beloved, eager for glory, now shattered with the hand of death upon him. The Captain released the boy's hand.

"You are a brave lad, James," he said. "But stay here no longer, though I would have you with me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Stay here no longer--though I would have you with me.'"]

There was more rus.h.i.+ng and shouting from the decks above. c.o.x hastened up as fast as his weakened limbs would carry him. It was hand to hand now; cutla.s.ses plying, men stabbing on the decks, growling and grovelling in their blood like fighting dogs. There was a party making an onslaught toward the bows. c.o.x drew his sword and joined them. The first thing he knew, they were slas.h.i.+ng at him with their heavy blades.

They were Englishmen! He did not know his own crew by sight. The firing had stopped; the summer breeze was blowing the smoke away. But what a sight and what a sound! The battered, reddened hulls, and the groans that rose in chorus! Of the further details there is little to relate.

Poor Ludlow was killed at last by a cutla.s.s in the hands of a British sailor; for after the flag had been hauled down, a second action had been started by a hot-headed boy firing at a British sentry placed at the gangway. The English, by mistake, had hoisted the captured flag uppermost, but it was soon discovered and hauled down again--the fight was over. The _Chesapeake_ has been reckoned one of England's dearest prizes.

The sorrowful news of her defeat was carried quickly into Boston. The wise ones wagged their heads again. At the house of the Commandant of the navy yard at Charlestown, Bainbridge paced the room alone, deep lines of grief marking his rugged face, and on the floor above, a young girl lay insensible, for the word as first brought was that with the other officers James c.o.x had had his death. Captain Broke, the Englishman, had fought a gallant, manly fight, all honor to him! He was badly wounded, and, like poor Lawrence, it was thought that he would die. The latter, when he had heard the firing cease, had said to the surgeon:--

"Run to the deck. Tell them not to strike the colors! While I live they shall wave!" Brave Lawrence! They were the last words he ever spoke.

Although he lingered four long suffering days, not a sound pa.s.sed his lips. Broke, on the contrary, was raving in a delirium, and these were the words he kept repeating--words he must have spoken before the action had begun:--

"See the brave fellow! How grandly he brings his s.h.i.+p along! How gallantly he comes to action!"

Ah, how Halifax rejoiced when the _Shannon_ sailed in there with a Yankee frigate under her lee. How the guns boomed, and how the city went mad with joy! And how England rejoiced, and the "Thunderer"

thundered and the king clapped his hands! And how much they made of it!

How proudly they preserved every relic of the captured s.h.i.+p! How they cherished her figurehead and exhibited her logbook! And they builded her timbers into an old mill, where they can show them to you to-day, scarred with cannon shot.

Yes, and how America lamented! Aye, and grew angry in her distress and cried for vengeance! Many times during the trial which followed in the investigation of the causes for the vessel's loss and capture, must have young James c.o.x wished that he were dead, that it had been he the British cutla.s.ses and musket-b.a.l.l.s had hacked to pieces. The navy had lost a s.h.i.+p in single combat,--the press and the authorities did not like that,--some one must suffer. What excuse was there that could hold good? said they--the great public which clamored for a reason. And so in the flush of the hot feeling he was sentenced by court martial; sentenced and disgraced. The charge of cowardice was disproved. From that he was exonerated--he had been wounded. But why had he not cut down the men as they left their guns? (one man against fifty, forsooth!) Why had he left the deck and gone below? Why had he stayed for one moment's time at the side of his dying friend and leader? And so he was made the scapegoat, although if he had been six men or ten, he could not have prevented what had happened. What is the use of "ifs"? The best s.h.i.+p had won. But when the trial was over, two hearts were broken. The young officer was execrated by those that did not know, and yet who talk and write. Could he dare just then to ask a woman's hand?

The navy pitied him, the scapegoat of the _Chesapeake_. How he pet.i.tioned to be given a chance to win back his fair name, and how often it was denied him! The members of the court that sentenced him wrote kindly letters almost without exception. But even the brave Decatur did not dare to help him--public opinion is more formidable to face than an armed s.h.i.+p. And so James c.o.x, maybe in the hope that an honorable death would visit him, shouldered a musket and fought as a common soldier in the ranks on land.

And when the war was over, he sought refuge in the new country of the west, where perhaps they would not know. And there he lived and died; died an old man, honored and respected by his neighbors. But those that loved him marvelled at one thing; he never smiled. And even his grandchildren (for he married late in life) knew not that he had once been a gay young lieutenant with a s.h.i.+ning epaulet on his left shoulder. They never heard that he had started one fine June day to find glory and fame; and that death had come near to him but pa.s.sed him by, which he had more than once regretted bitterly.

After he had been laid to rest letters and papers were found showing that to the last he had been trying to have his name placed back upon the navy lists. But if they were too angry to listen before in their deep chagrin, they were too busy now; they had other things to think about. And people who wrote history, aye and taught it in the schools, did not search dispa.s.sionately for what had occurred to view the facts. They took the feverish verdict of the times and applied adjectives to his conduct that were out of place; some called it "pusillanimous"--"cowardly." We can look at things differently now, and judge them for their worth. There is proof enough to clear his name, so be it cleared if these few words can help to do it.

THE LOSS OF THE VIXEN

On the 22d of October, 1812, at nine A.M., the United States brig _Vixen_ crossed St. Mary's bar outward bound for a cruise to the southward. It was not expected that she would be absent from home waters for more than a month. Her commander was George W. Reed, a good officer, although he had had little experience in actual warfare. The hundred and ten men under his immediate command had trust in his judgment and were all animated with a hope of coming in again with one of the enemy under their lee, or at least they trusted that they should be fortunate enough to make one or two rich captures and return with prize money to their credit. As one of the _Vixen's_ crew wrote: "All hands were in high health and spirits, and filled with the idea of soon returning with some fruit of the consequence of the war."

Day after day the _Vixen_ sailed on and saw one sail after another; but owing to her having been well to the leeward in every case she had been unable to bring any to close quarters. On the tenth morning after her departure a sail was descried, and this time it so happened that the little brig was well to the windward. Setting every st.i.tch of her canvas, she made after the stranger. Judging from all reports, the _Vixen's_ intentions must have been better than her powers of putting them into practice; for if her legs had been faster, so to speak, the expectations of her crew might have been answered, and this story (which is nothing but a record of events, however) would never have had a chance to be written. So it is safe to draw the conclusion that she was not as fast as many of our little vessels were at this period of our naval history.

While chasing the strange sail, another was perceived to be bearing down from the northwest. This put another face on the matter. The _Vixen_ hauled her wind and waited. As it was perceived the second stranger was undoubtedly armed and was a large brig, Reed called his men together as was the custom and made the following little speech:--

"Now, my lads, there she is; I expect every man to stand to his guns.

Don't fire a gun until you are within pistol shot; take good aim and show her fair play."

As the vessel came on without raising her flag, she fired a broadside of round and grape, which, however, served no other purpose than to churn the water into foam some distance ahead of the _Vixen's_ bow.

The latter returned the compliment, and planted a double-shotted eighteen-pound charge in her antagonist's hull, above the sternpost.

Again the stranger fired and missed, although at musket-shot distance.

Now, odd to relate, the unknown ran up signals, which, not understanding, Captain Reed replied to with an a.s.sortment of grape. At this the signals came down and the Spanish colors went up in their place. Bitter was the disappointment; she was to be no costly prize, after all. Seeing there was some difficulty on board of her, Captain Reed lowered a boat, and ascertained that she was a Spanish brig of fourteen guns from Havana, bound for Cadiz. Finding out that she only had two or three men slightly wounded, Captain Reed went on his way, after regretting that the "mistake" had occurred. However, in the log there was entered on this day that "owing to the good chance for target practice the morning had not been spent amiss."

For just one month everything seemed to run away from the poor little _Vixen_. The men were getting discouraged. They would see a convoy, most probably made up of rich merchantmen, somewhere off to leeward, and then a fog would shut down, and when it cleared away nothing would be seen but an expanse of empty horizon. With nothing done, and a sorry and disappointed crew, she was within two days' sail of St. Mary's, in the state of Maryland, when as luck would have it the man at the masthead reported a sail on the starboard beam.

Much better would it have been for the little _Vixen_ if the fog had closed down or a contrary wind had sprung up, or had she gone about her business and made for home as soon as possible. It was just daylight in the morning. Steering-sails were set on both sides as she was headed out again to meet the stranger, who had evidently not observed her presence. By six o'clock it was made out that the unknown was a frigate and no less. This was more than the _Vixen_ had bargained for.

With all her canvas standing as it was, she tacked s.h.i.+p and hauled up on the wind, which was extremely light. But the frigate proved herself to be a good one at going; she had set all of her light canvas that she could, and it was a caution the way she came down upon the little brig.

Although it is only a preliminary to the story, which has another side than that of the amusing, one cannot read an extract from the _Vixen's_ log without feeling inclined to smile. Therefore to quote: "At ten, finding the chase gained on us, increasingly, commenced starting water out of the fore and main holds to lighten the brig. At eleven dead calm; out sweeps and continued rowing without intermission until twelve. Slow work; but we had now gained some advantage over the chase.

Then a breeze springing up we quickly lost it. In sweeps, and to lighten the brig still more, hove every article, in and under the boats, overboard. Stationed hands by the anchors to cut them away when ordered. Half past twelve P.M., discharged all the shot from the racks.

At one, cut away both anchors. At two P.M., the chase still gaining, hove two elegant bra.s.s nine-pounders after the anchors. Chase still gained. Broached all the water in the casks, hove over all our broadside guns, and everything that seemed to carry weight. Finding that in despite of our exertions the _Vixen_ would not sail an inch faster than her old gait, we now had the melancholy satisfaction of knowing our capture was a certainty. But we were determined to use every exertion to avoid it. Thus we commenced manoeuvring with the sails, which kept the men on the jump and had only the effect of putting off the capture for an hour or two. At three P.M., all her guns were visible, at half past, coming up, hand over hand, she gave us a shot which fell short. A few minutes later another was sent which went between our foremast and mainmast. Answered by running up our colors and firing a musket to windward. The chase having English colors up, and as it would have been madness to engage her, we fired another shot to leeward and hauled our colors down. At four P.M., she ranged alongside."

And now, strange to say, all those on board the brig were astonished to see that the frigate had the word "Constellation" painted on her stern.

The crew of the _Vixen_ looked at each other in astonishment. Had there been another mistake? But there was something unmistakably English about the cut of her jib, and the red coats of a party of marines who were scrambling down into a boat which she had lowered plainly showed her character. Besides this, Captain Reed knew well that the Yankee _Constellation_ was aground in the mud-flats of the James River, where she stayed during the war.

The officer, who was soon on board, with his seamen and marines, informed Captain Reed and his lieutenants that the _Vixen_ was a prize to His Britannic Majesty's frigate _Southampton_, thirty-six guns, Sir James Lucas Yeo, commander. At once Captain Reed entered the English boat and went on board the frigate. As he rode close under the stern he saw that the word "Constellation" had been painted on a wide strip of canvas, tacked neatly over the name "Southampton." He did not ask the reason for this; it was easy to guess. If she happened to put in to one of the small harbors along the coast, it would conceal successfully her ident.i.ty. Probably Sir James did not know that the real _Constellation_ was fast in the mud-flat.

Sir James was a gentleman and a n.o.bleman by action as well as by birth, and his very first doing proved it. He came forward to meet Captain Reed and lifted his hat in a courtly salute; Captain Reed presented the hilt of his sword in token of surrender.

"No, no, sir," spoke up the Captain of the _Southampton_. "I cannot accept this from you; and I wish to commend you, sir, upon the skill you displayed in endeavoring to save your vessel. My s.h.i.+p is a very fast one."

"And mine a very slow one," put in Captain Reed.

"But I am sure you did everything that any one could do to get speed out of her."

"We hove everything overboard but our top sides and scantlings,"

returned Reed.

The officers standing about smiled, for the _Vixen's_ frantic endeavors to escape had been watched closely through the gla.s.s.

The kindness shown to the brig's commander was extended in every way to the other officers and to the crew also. As the frigate was very crowded, but seventy of the _Vixen's men_ were transferred to her. The other forty were kept as prisoners on board their own vessel. Every man was allowed to take his dunnage, and the prisoners on board the _Southampton_ were given the run of the forward and main holds, although the hatchways were closely guarded by armed sentinels.

Excepting for the confinement, which was absolutely necessary, of course, and which was in direct accordance with the rules of war, the prisoners suffered no inconvenience. Twice a day in details of twenty they were permitted to be on deck to enjoy the fresh air. The _Southampton's_ crew were already on short allowance, owing to their having been at sea for some length of time, and the dole allowed the Americans was almost, if not quite, equal to that given the Englishmen.

The officers were treated with the greatest of politeness and civility, and Captain Reed dined daily with Sir James in the cabin. All hands voted him a fine man and gentleman, and that he was a naval officer was proved conclusively enough by his actions subsequently when at the head of the British operations on the Lakes.

Five days after the capture the weather was fine, but a small sea was running. The _Southampton_, under easy sail, was leading, and crowding on all she could carry; the _Vixen_ managed to keep within signalling distance of her. In three or four days every one expected to be anch.o.r.ed safe in Jamaica.

It was about half past eleven on a bright starry night when the lookout forward suddenly gave the cry, "Land ho!" A line of breakers could be seen about two miles to the westward, and above them the sh.o.r.es of a little island, at its highest point but twelve or fourteen feet above the water. Evidently the sailing-master of the frigate was out of his course. He probably had not allowed for the drift of one of those strange Gulf currents which have caused the destruction of many a fine s.h.i.+p.