Gallatin had little difficulty convincing Madison, and on the following day, June 22, Hamilton wrote to Rodgers, ordering him to consider the returning American merchant fleet his first priority. To protect it, Rodgers was to take the President, Essex, John Adams, Hornet, and Nautilus on patrol from the Chesapeake Capes eastward, while Decatur patrolled from New York southward with the United States, the Congress, and the Argus. Hamilton expected the two squadrons to overlap somewhat, creating the possibility they might at times act in concert.
The orders appeared to be a compromise between Rodgers’s idea of a unified fleet and Decatur’s preference for a dispersed one, but they were actually based on Gallatin’s concerns and issued with little thought, since the president had no overall strategy. Fortunately, Rodgers did not receive Hamilton’s instructions for many weeks—after he returned from his cruise. If carried out, they would have left both squadrons so weak they would have been easy targets for the Halifax fleet. Neither Gallatin nor the president nor Hamilton, it would seem, considered that possibility.
AFTER HIS FRUSTRATING encounter with the Belvidera on June 23, Rodgers—with his broken leg in splints—continued hunting for the rich Jamaica convoy, repairing the President as he went. He had a good idea of where his prey was. Hours before running into the Belvidera, he had spoken with the American brig Indian Chief out of Madeira bound for New York. Her master reported that four days earlier he spotted a huge convoy—over a hundred ships, he thought—eastbound in latitude 36° north and longitude 67° west (just north of Bermuda). A frigate and a brig were escorting them.
Rodgers had no doubt that the ships the Indian Chief saw were the merchantmen he was after. The huge convoy had sailed from Negril Bay, Jamaica, on May 20 and passed the eastern tip of Cuba on June 4, guarded by the 36-gun frigate H.M.S. Thalia (Captain James Vashon) and the 18-gun sloop of war Reindeer (Captain Manners)—easy pickings for Rodgers. He estimated the convoy was only three hundred miles away.
ON JULY 3, while Rodgers was on the hunt, Captain David Porter put out to sea from New York in the restored Essex. The commandant of the New York Navy Yard in Brooklyn, Captain Isaac Chauncey, had brought the old frigate up to a high state of readiness, careening her, cleaning and repairing the copper bottom, caulking her inside and out, putting on a false keel, and replacing all the masts. Although she had been launched thirteen long years ago in Salem, Massachusetts, during the Quasi-War with France, she was ready for combat, and so was her skipper.
As he passed Sandy Hook and drove into the Atlantic, Captain Porter was in high spirits. No British squadron was about, and the day before, he had received his promotion to captain—after an inordinately long wait, he thought. His orders, dated June 24, directed him to join Rodgers’s squadron, but it was nowhere in sight, and Porter was glad of it. He’d rather be on his own, free to conduct the hunt as he saw fit, without being under Rodgers’s thumb, having to share laurels and prize money.
If Porter failed to find Rodgers, his orders directed him to patrol between Bermuda and Newfoundland’s Grand Banks. Eight days out from Sandy Hook, on July 11, the Essex was in latitude 33° north and longitude 66° west—northeast of the Bermudas—when at two o’clock in the morning a lookout glimpsed the vague outlines of eight ships in the distance, running northward. Porter was out of bed and on deck in a hurry. He grabbed a telescope, and with the moon providing some hazy light, he counted seven troop transports, with a frigate as an escort. The vessels were spread apart in loose formation typical of convoys in which ships sailed at different speeds.
Porter decided to attack the rearmost vessel and cut her out in hopes of provoking a fight with the frigate. As the Essex closed in, the armed transport Samuel & Sarah—carrying 197 soldiers—did not attempt to escape. Porter had the weather gauge, and when he fired a single shot across her bow, she hauled down her colors. Her skipper assumed his escorting frigate, the 32-gun Minerva (Captain Richard Hawkins), would quickly engage the enemy.
By then it was 4 A.M., and, as expected, the Minerva broke away from the convoy and steered toward the Essex. Within a short time, however, she inexplicably came about and returned to the middle of the troop transports. Porter was puzzled. He was eager for a fight; the two frigates appeared evenly matched. He could not understand why Hawkins did not accept his challenge. Instead, the Minerva drew the remaining armed transports around her, so they could act in consort, and sailed on, daring Porter to approach.
Captain Hawkins’s orders were to transport the First Regiment of Royal Scots infantrymen from Barbados to Quebec and reinforce the small Canadian army. He probably judged it more important to accomplish his mission than to take on the Essex, although he must have wanted to. Except in extraordinary circumstances, no British captain would avoid fighting an American of equal strength. Doing so would earn him a court-martial and severe punishment.
With the odds now heavily against him, Porter decided it would be suicide to fight the entire convoy and settled for just taking the Samuel & Sarah. The number of men she had on board presented a problem, however. Porter did not want to be encumbered by so many prisoners. After throwing her armament overboard, he released the transport and all the soldiers on parole with a ransom bond of $14,000 and continued his cruise.
WHILE RODGERS AND Porter were off hunting in the mid-Atlantic, Commodore Philip B.V. Broke’s Halifax squadron arrived off Sandy Hook on July 14, only to discover that Rodgers’s fleet was gone and the Essex nowhere in sight. Broke’s task force was formidable; it consisted of his flagship, the 38-gun frigate Shannon, the 64-gun battleship Africa (Captain John Bastard), the 38-gun Guerriere (Captain James R. Dacres), the 32-gun Aeolus (Captain Lord James Townsend), and the 36-gun Belvidera—fully recovered from her run-in with Rodgers and still under Captain Richard Byron.
Two days later, Broke happened on the 12-gun American brig Nautilus, under Lieutenant William Crane, who had sailed out of New York on July 15, passing Sandy Hook at 6 P.M. with a fresh, squally wind out of the northeast. At 4 the following morning Crane was seventy-five miles off Sandy Hook when he spied Broke’s squadron two points off his weather beam. He immediately wore ship, “turned out the reefs and made all sail the vessel would bear.”
Crane was carrying yet more orders from Secretary Hamilton to Rodgers dated July 10. They read: “There will be a strong British force on our coast in a few days—be upon your guard—we are anxious for your safe return into port.” This was a far cry from Hamilton’s bombastic “strike a good blow” of a month earlier, when war had not actually been declared. When the declaration was made official on June 18, he toned down his aggressive talk and became more cautious. The new orders were apparently meant to keep the American fleet safe in New York and not have it out patrolling. Hamilton’s lack of consistency was for the most part caused by Madison’s continued indecision about naval strategy.
As soon as Broke spotted the Nautilus, he bore up and made all sail in chase, displaying American colors. A heavy swell from the north slowed the Nautilus and gave the bigger ships an edge. When Broke closed in, he made recognition signals that Crane did not understand. At the same time, Crane hoisted his own private signal and ensign, which Broke did not answer. Not that Crane expected him to; it had been clear from the beginning that this was a British squadron.
Crane was forced to take in sail to preserve spars, while Broke continued to gain. “Every maneuver in trimming ship was tried,” Crane reported, “but this not having the desired effect I ordered the anchors cut from the bows.” Nothing helped. “At nine o’clock the wind became lighter, and the brig labored excessively in the swell.”
With Broke closing in, Crane threw overboard part of his water, the lee guns, and a portion of his round shot. Instantly, the Nautilus was relieved and bore her sail with greater ease. But Broke continued to close. By 11 the Shannon had pulled within cannon shot, and for some unknown reason, Broke hoisted French colors but held his fire. Seeing no need to destroy the Nautilus, he kept pressing forward. At
midnight he was within musket shot.
Knowing he could not escape, Crane destroyed his signal books and the dispatches for Rodgers. He then consulted his principal officers and decided to surrender. Crane took in the studding sails and light sails, trained the weather guns aft, and put the helm alee. Broke responded by putting the Shannon’s helm up, hoisting a broad pendant and British colors, and ranging up under the Nautilus’s lee quarter to accept Crane’s surrender.
In short order, the Shannon’s boats rowed over to take possession of the Nautilus . They returned later with Lieutenant Crane, who had a strained chat with his captor. Broke then put the officers and crew of the Nautilus in the battleship Africa, except for Crane, whom he sent back to the Nautilus as a lone prisoner with a British prize crew. The Nautilus was the first British capture of the war, and for the time being, Broke made her part of his squadron.
WHILE BROKE WAS corralling the Nautilus, Captain Isaac Hull was at sea in the newly refurbished Constitution, sailing from Chesapeake Bay to New York with orders to join Rodgers and Decatur. Hull departed the Chesapeake Capes on Sunday morning, July 12, with a fine southwesterly breeze, expecting to be off Sandy Hook within five days. His latest orders showed that the president and Secretary Hamilton were still confused about strategy. Rodgers had already left New York, which Hamilton had had time to learn, and he also knew a powerful British squadron was sailing down from Halifax to the New York area. Nonetheless, Hamilton ordered Hull to sail directly into the jaws of Broke’s fleet and certain disaster. “If . . . you fall in with an enemy vessel,” Hamilton wrote, “you will be guided in your proceedings by your own judgment, bearing in mind, however, that you are not voluntarily to encounter a force superior to your own. On your arrival at New York, you will report yourself to Commodore Rodgers. If he should not be in port, you will remain there till further orders.”
Figure 6.1: Samuel L. Waldo, Commodore Isaac Hull, USN (1773-1843) (courtesy of U.S. Naval Academy Museum).
This was the Constitution’s first cruise since April 5, when Hull had put into the Washington Navy Yard for extensive repairs. Of the navy’s six major shipyards, where men-of-war were built, fitted out, and repaired, the Washington yard was generally considered the best and Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the worst. The others—New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and Norfolk—were rated in between. Hull considered New York better because it was supervised by Captain Isaac Chauncey. By putting into the Washington Navy Yard, however, he wasn’t sacrificing anything. The superintendent, Commodore Thomas Tingey, had been in charge since the yard’s inception in January 1800, and he had established a solid record.
Hull had been skipper of the Constitution for two years, having taken command from John Rodgers on July 17, 1810. She was in poor condition then, not having had an extensive overhaul since 1803. Rodgers was leaving her because he wanted another ship, and, asserting his seniority, he had taken command of the President, which he considered the navy’s finest.
Luckily, Nathaniel “Jumping Billy” Haraden, who had been the Constitution’s master during the war with Tripoli, was at the Washington yard in April, and he worked with Hull and his officers seven days a week to get the aged ship into fighting condition. Much work needed to be done; her copper was in bad shape, and so were her upper works. She needed a complete suit of sails and new running rigging. Her hull and decks needed caulking, the ballast washed, and the hold cleaned out. By the time war was declared, however, the big frigate was ready for action.
The Constitution’s refurbishment exposed yet more ways in which the United States was unprepared for combat. Repairing and provisioning her had drawn down supplies and armament at the yard to a point where it could not serve the urgent needs of other warships and yards. Tingey was getting urgent requests from naval stations at Gosport, Wilmington, and Charleston for supplies, but he didn’t have them.
Although the Constitution was now in excellent shape, Hull needed to add to the crew. Enlistments in the American navy were typically for two years, which meant that able seamen left the ship at regular intervals. In wartime this presented a big problem. A majority of Hull’s crew had signed on when he took command from Rodgers in 1810. Many of them had departed at the end of their tour and now had to be replaced.
Hull even had trouble holding on to his talented first lieutenant, Charles Morris. When the Constitution put into Washington in April, Morris tried to obtain a command of his own, since that was the surest path to rapid promotion. He had already had a distinguished career. During Decatur’s famous attack and burning of the captured Philadelphia during the war with Tripoli, Midshipman Morris was the first man to board the unlucky frigate. Secretary Hamilton recognized Morris’s ability and was sympathetic, but in the end he ordered him back to the Constitution. Needless to say, Hull was happy to see him return.
On June 18 Hull sailed over to Annapolis to recruit crew members. Because of its proximity to Baltimore, where the war was popular, he thought recruitment would be easier than in thinly populated Washington. The Constitution departed Annapolis on July 5 with a full complement of four hundred forty men. Many of the newcomers had signed on in a fit of patriotic fervor. Not a few of them were green, however, and in need of training. Hull wrote to Hamilton, “The crew, you will readily conceive, must yet be unacquainted with a ship of war, as many of them have but lately joined us and never were in an armed ship before. We are doing all that we can to make them acquainted with [their] duty, and in a few days, we shall have nothing to fear from any single deck ship.”
In spite of having thirty men sick from dysentery and the various maladies prevalent during the bay’s unhealthy summers, Hull worked the crew hard. As he made his way up Chesapeake Bay, practice at the guns and the sails went on every day. By the time he passed the Chesapeake Capes and pushed out to sea, Hull was conducting gunnery practice twice a day and felt the crew was rounding into shape.
Five days after Hull entered the Atlantic, on July 17, a lookout at the main masthead spied four strange sails to the northward and in shore of the Constitution . They were definitely men-of-war. The wind was light, and thinking they were part of Rodgers’s squadron, Hull threw on all sail and steered toward them.
Around the same time, a lookout aboard H.M.S. Shannon saw a strange sail to the south and east standing to the northeast. He hollered down to the quarterdeck, where Broke soon had his telescope focused on the big ship in the distance. The Shannon was twelve miles east of Egg Harbor on the New Jersey coast. Broke had no doubt this was an American, and he gave the signal for a general chase. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Broke’s squadron, in addition to the Shannon, included the 64-gun Africa and her tender, the 36-gun Belvidera, the 32-gun Aeolus, and the recently captured Nautilus with Lieutenant Crane still on board.
At four o’clock, one of Hull’s lookouts discovered another ship bearing northeast, standing for the Constitution with all her sail billowing. Hull thought she might be an American as well. For the next several hours the stranger sailed closer, but by sundown she was still too far away for her or the Constitution to distinguish recognition signals. The other four warships could only be seen from their tops.
Hull decided to steer toward the single ship and approach near enough to make the night signal. At ten o’clock he hoisted signal lights and kept them aloft for almost an hour, but got no answer. He now felt certain this ship, as well as the four inshore, were British, and he “hauled off to the southward and eastward” to escape. The ship he had been chasing raced after him, making signals to the others as she went.
At daylight, two frigates from the inshore group had pulled closer to the Constitution—one of them to within five or six miles, while the other four ships were ten or twelve miles astern. All were in vigorous pursuit with a fine breeze filling their sails. In the area where the Constitution was, however, the wind had died. The ship “would not steer,” Hull recorded, “but fell round off with her head” toward her pursuers. In desperation, Hull ordered boats ho
isted out and sent ahead to tow the ship’s head round and get on some speed. By now three enemy frigates were five miles away, but they, too, had lost their wind and had their boats out towing.
With the enemy ships continuing to close, Hull ordered the men to quarters. He then ran “two of the guns on the gun deck . . . out at the cabin window for stern guns, and hoisted one of the twenty-four pounders off the gun deck, and ran that, with a forecastle gun, an eighteen pounder, out” the taffrail, where carpenters had cut away spaces. At seven o’clock Hull fired one stern gun at the nearest ship, but the ball splashed harmlessly into the water.
By eight o’clock four enemy ships were nearly within gunshot range and coming up methodically. The breeze was insignificant. Hull’s situation looked desperate. “It . . . appeared we must be taken,” he wrote. But, no matter the odds, he would not surrender. He intended to fire as many broadsides as he could and go down fighting. Before resorting to this grim measure, however, he accepted Charles Morris’s suggestion that they try using kedge anchors. That required warping the ship ahead by carrying out kedge anchors in the ship’s boats, dropping them, and warping the ship up to them. The ship was in only twenty-four fathoms of water—shallow enough. He ordered his men to gather three hundred to four hundred feet of rope and sent two big anchors out.
1812: The Navy's War Page 9
