1812: The Navy's War

by George Daughan

  While the new orders were still in transit, Hull completed work on the Constitution , and when the wind had hauled far to the westward during the wee hours of Sunday morning, August 2, Hull unmoored and fetched out of the harbor. At seven o’clock he was hove to beyond Boston Light, waiting for a boat he had dispatched to check the post office one last time. When the boat returned with no news from Hamilton, a relieved Hull sped out to sea.

  At first, he sailed northeast along the Maine coast to the Bay of Fundy. Finding no enemy ships, he turned east and steered for Cape Sable Island at the southern tip of Nova Scotia, intending to patrol between there and Halifax. Four uneventful days later, Hull decided to stand toward Newfoundland. He was under full sail when he passed Sable Island, and he then hauled in to take up a station off the Gulf of St. Lawrence near Cape Race at the southeastern tip of Newfoundland, hoping to intercept ships bound for Quebec or Halifax.

  On August 10 and 11, Hull captured two small, empty British vessels, and after taking their crews aboard the Constitution, he burned them. Four days later, as dawn approached on the fifteenth, lookouts saw five sail dead ahead, looking like a convoy. Hull put on a full press of sail in pursuit. By sunrise it was clear that one was a small warship (the 18-gun British sloop of war Avenger with a crew of 121). At six o’clock the Avenger discovered the Constitution and immediately cast off a prize she had in tow and burned her, before making all sail to windward and fleeing. Being more weatherly than the Constitution, that is, able to sail closer to the wind with little leeway, she made good her escape. While she did, Hull chased down another vessel in the vicinity, which turned out to be a British prize of the privateer Dolphin out of Salem, Massachusetts. The Dolphin was nowhere in sight; she had abandoned her prize and raced away when she saw the Avenger.

  Figure 7.1: Michele Felice Cornè, Constitution and Guerriere, 19 August 1812 (courtesy of U.S. Naval Academy Museum).

  That same day Hull gave chase to another brig the Constitution’s lookouts had spotted, and when he caught up with her, he discovered she was an American prize of the Avenger, with a British prize master and a small British crew aboard. From the master Hull learned he had narrowly missed sailing into Broke’s squadron, which was at the western edge of the Grand Banks looking for Commodore Rodgers, trying to intercept him before he caught the Jamaica convoy. Hull decided to put some distance between himself and Broke and turned south toward Bermuda.

  On the eighteenth at 9:30 at night, lookouts saw a brig close by, and Hull gave chase, catching up with her at 11. She turned out to be the 14-gun American privateer Decatur out of Newburyport, Massachusetts, with a crew of 108, under Captain William Nicholls. In trying to escape from the big unknown frigate, Nicholls had thrown overboard twelve precious guns. He had taken nine prizes during a short cruise, demonstrating that Madison’s privateers were already swarming around British shipping lanes. In these waters, the privateers were usually from Federalist Massachusetts. Even though most of the merchants in places like Newburyport and Salem opposed the war, they were not averse to making money from it.

  When Nicholls came aboard the Constitution, he told Hull he had seen a large warship nearby standing southward. Hull was excited; he immediately turned south, hoping to fall in with her. At 2 P.M. the following day, August 19, Hull’s lookouts spied a sail in the distance to leeward. The Constitution was moving south southwest in latitude 41° 42’ and longitude 55° 48’. With an accommodating wind from the northwest, Hull put on all sail and sped toward the stranger. She did not appear to be running away. By three o’clock Hull could see she was a large ship on the starboard tack, close by the wind under easy sail. By 3:30 it was plain she was just what he had hoped, a British frigate. His heart must have been racing, for there is no doubt he recognized her as the Guerriere, one of the frigates that chased him during his race with Broke’s squadron.

  Fifteen minutes later, the British ship backed her main topsail and lay by on the starboard tack, inviting a duel with the bigger Constitution. The Guerriere’s skipper, twenty-eight-year-old Captain James Dacres, had been detached from Broke’s squadron and was making his way to Halifax for a refit. He could not have been happier to see the Constitution. Even at his young age, he was an accomplished fighter with a distinguished record. He was from an old navy clan—his father and uncle were both admirals—and he proudly carried on the family’s tradition. Although his ship was smaller than the Constitution, she was one of the finest frigates in the British fleet. Dacres expected to make quick work of the American. He was so confident he magnanimously allowed ten impressed Americans aboard to go below when they insisted they would not fight against their countrymen. The British had grown accustomed to victory, even when the odds were against them. A difference in size between the two frigates, even a significant one, made no difference to the proud lions of the Royal Navy. Defeat at the hands of an American crew was inconceivable. The officers and men of the Guerriere, like all their countrymen, had nothing but contempt for the American navy.

  The Constitution had a complement of 456 men and was rated at forty-four guns but mounted fifty-six, including thirty twenty-four-pound long guns on the main deck, twenty-four thirty-two-pound carronades on the spar deck, and two long eighteen-pounders at the bow. (Carronades were small, lightweight cannon with wide, short barrels that had a limited effective range of less than five hundred yards but fired large-caliber projectiles.) The Guerriere—undermanned as most British warships—had a crew of only 272, not counting the Americans aboard. She was rated at thirty-eight guns and carried forty-nine. On her main deck thirty eighteen-pound long guns were mounted, and on her spar deck she had sixteen thirty-two-pound carronades, two long twelves, and a twelve-pound howitzer. The Constitution’s broadside in weight of metal was a potent 762 pounds, while the Guerriere’s was a bit more than 550. The quality of the officers and crews of both ships, which in the end would make the difference, could not be so easily measured.

  Hull cleared for action around three o’clock, ordering light sails taken in and royal yards struck down, two reefs taken in the topsails, and the foresail and mainsail hauled up. While a marine drummer beat the call to quarters, and all hands raced to their battle stations, Hull steered straight for the enemy, some three miles away now. As the big ship plowed ahead, the crew gave three cheers, even though everyone knew a gruesome, bloody brawl was only minutes away. Hull later claimed there were no anxious faces. He said the men made it clear to him they wanted to lay the Constitution close alongside the enemy and blaze away. That may or may not have been the case, but there was no doubt Hull himself was fixed on a toe-to-toe slugfest, and by the look of things, so was the British captain.

  “Hull was now all animation,” Moses Smith reported. “With great energy and calmness . . . he passed around among the officers and men, [saying] . . . ‘now do your duty. Your officers cannot have entire command over you now. Each man must do all in his power for his country.’”

  As Hull bore up, Dacres hoisted an ensign at the mizzen gaff, another in the mizzen shrouds, and jacks at the foretopgallant and mizzen topgallant mastheads. At 5:05 the Constitution continued to run down on the enemy, and as she did, the Guerriere fired a broadside, but the balls fell short. A sea was running, and her gunners might not have adjusted sufficiently for the roll of the ship. Dacres then wore and gave the Constitution a broadside with his larboard guns. Only two balls struck, however, and they bounced harmlessly off the Constitution’s thick hide, earning her the immortal sobriquet “Old Ironsides.” Hull moved closer and hoisted American colors at the mizzen peak, the foretopgallant, and the mizzen topgallant mastheads, and he made one ready for hoisting at the main masthead. All the while, Dacres had been maneuvering to gain the weather gauge, but finding he could not, he bore up to bring the wind on his quarter and ran under topsails and jib, firing at the Constitution as he went.

  Hull responded by setting his main topgallant and closing on the Guerriere’s larboard quarter. Once there, the Constituti
on passed to the Guerriere’s beam, the distance between them narrowing from two hundred yards to a half pistol shot (ten yards). It was six o’clock. Hull had fired only a few shots as he approached, but now he let loose a barrage of crushing broadsides, his double-shotted twenty-four-pounders spewing out deadly round and grapeshot. They were far more devastating than the Guerriere’s eighteens, and they staggered the smaller ship. Dacres fired back as fast as he could. But in fifteen minutes the Guerriere’s mizzenmast went by the board, and her main yard was in the slings, while her hull and sails had taken a tremendous beating.

  Dacres was in trouble. His mizzenmast had fallen over the starboard quarter, but its still uncut standing rigging held it fast to the ship, making her impossible to maneuver, and she swung up into the wind. Meanwhile, Hull put the Constitution hard to port, crossed the enemy’s bows, and raked her. He then wore ship and came back across her bows again, delivering another crushing broadside with his portside guns. The two raking broadsides created havoc on the Guerriere’s forecastle, and ripped into her sails and fore rigging. At the same time, she had use of only a few of her bow guns. Meanwhile, Hull’s sharpshooters in the tops rained musket balls down on the Guerriere’s deck.

  Dacres tried putting his ship hard to port, but her helm would not answer, and her bowsprit and jib-boom swept over the Constitution’s quarterdeck, becoming entangled in the lee mizzen rigging, causing the Guerriere to fall astern of the Constitution. The ships were now tenuously hitched together. Lieutenant Charles Morris leaped up on the taffrail to see if Dacres was forming a boarding party. He was. Boarding was his only chance now. Although the American crew far outnumbered his own, he might get lucky. In any event, he was determined to fight it out hand-to-hand.

  When Morris saw Dacres preparing to board, he shouted to Hull, and the captain ordered his own boarders to assemble. Trumpets were now sounding on both ships, calling the boarding parties. While waiting for his men to gather, Morris began wrapping the main brace over the Guerriere’s bowsprit to better fasten the ships together. Suddenly, a musket ball, fired by one of the Guerriere’s marines assembling to board, struck him in the body, and threw him back on deck, stunned. Lieutenant William Bush of the marines was standing nearby, and another ball hit him, killing him instantly. Sailing Master John Aylwin was grazed on the shoulder by another. Despite his injury, Morris somehow stood up and remained in the fight.

  The ships now separated unexpectedly, making boarding impossible. Hull resumed pummeling the enemy from a short distance for several minutes, when the Guerriere’s foremast and mainmast suddenly went over the side, taking with them the jib boom and every spar except the bowsprit. She was now completely disabled, rolling helplessly in the trough of the sea, taking in water from open gun ports and shot holes in her hull.

  Seeing that his ship was doomed, and probably sinking, Dacres called his officers, and they agreed that further resistance would be a needless waste of lives. Dacres fired a gun to leeward, indicating he had struck his colors. He could not actually haul them down because they had all gone over the side with the masts.

  Hull, in the meantime, had ordered his sails filled and hauled off to repair damages to the braces and other rigging before returning to the fray; all the while he watched to see if Dacres had surrendered. It was impossible to find out; no enemy flags were visible. Hull heard the single cannon blast, but that could have been a stray gun going off. He needed to confirm if Dacres had actually given up. He hoisted out a boat and sent Third Lieutenant Read and Midshipman Gilliam over to the Guerriere under a flag of truce to determine if Dacres had surrendered, and if he had, to inquire if he needed assistance. Hull thought the Guerriere was sinking.

  In twenty minutes Read returned with Captain Dacres, who confirmed the surrender and offered his sword to Hull. Without hesitating, Hull refused to take it from so gallant a foe and invited Dacres to his cabin. Having been badly wounded in the back by one of the Constitution’s sharpshooters, Dacres moved with great difficulty. Although he was grateful for Hull’s solicitude, he was shocked when he later discovered (or thought he did) that “a large portion” of the ship’s company were British seamen. There was no way he could prove they were, of course.

  Before conferring with the defeated captain, Hull ordered all boats out to ferry prisoners, especially the wounded, over to the Constitution and get them and their baggage off the stricken ship before it sank. The butcher’s bill for the Guerriere was grim. Fifteen tars were dead and sixty-three wounded. An additional twenty-four were missing, presumed killed when the masts went by the board. Hull’s men and boats were at the depressing business of transferring the British crew all night and into the next day. The moans and cries of the injured men were heartrending.

  Dacres later said, “I feel it my duty to state that the conduct of Captain Hull and his officers to our men has been that of a brave enemy, the greatest care being taken to prevent our men losing the smallest trifle, and the greatest attention being paid to the wounded who through the attention and skill of Mr. [John] Irvine, surgeon, I hope will do well.” Irvine was the Guerriere’s doctor. Dacres didn’t mention Amos Evans, the Constitution’s surgeon who tended the wounded as well. Most of them were British; the Constitution had only seven killed and seven wounded, one of them being Lieutenant Morris, who, in spite of his life-threatening injury, had remained on deck during the entire battle. When the firing ceased, he suddenly felt the full effects of his wound and went below to the cockpit to have it treated. He shortly became feverish. Doctor Evans feared for Morris’s life, but the patient continued breathing. If Morris survived, Evans thought it would be weeks before he recovered.

  At daylight, it was clear the Guerriere could not be salvaged and taken triumphantly into Boston, which Hull badly wanted to do. He ordered the rest of the prisoners removed as quickly as possible so that he could burn her. By three o’clock in the afternoon all the British tars were safely aboard the Constitution, and Hull told Read to set the Guerriere on fire. The lieutenant spread gunpowder in her storerooms, with long trails leading to the ship’s side, and lit them. Flames soon engulfed the entire ship, and her guns started popping off one at a time. Then, suddenly, without warning, she blew up. Hundreds of jagged pieces of wood spewed into the air and then drifted slowly down to the water trailing smoke and fire, a spectacular, chilling sight.

  In his report to Secretary Hamilton, Hull explained that the main action had taken only thirty minutes. During that time the Guerriere was reduced to a floating log, while the Constitution was practically unscathed. He also reported that at the height of the action, Lieutenant Charles Morris, although badly wounded, remained on deck in the thick of the fight. Hull credited Morris with being a key to victory, and he still feared for his life. Hull also credited the rest of his brave crew, including the African American sailors—“niggers,” he mindlessly called them. “They stripped to the waist and fought like devils,” he wrote, “seeming to be utterly insensible to danger and to be possessed with a determination to outfight the white sailors.”

  The ship’s company was integrated, although not free of racial prejudice, as Hull’s remarks made clear. It was common for American warships to have 15 to 20 percent of their crews African American—free and slave. Hull appeared surprised that his black seamen performed as well as they did under fire—the supreme test.

  Hull now made his way to Boston with over three hundred prisoners. Ten uneventful days later, he rounded Cape Cod and beat up toward the city against a stiff southwest wind. It took all night to reach Little Brewster Island and Boston Lighthouse, where he anchored on Sunday morning, August 29. The crew spent the day sprucing up the ship for what they expected to be a rousing welcome in the city. The following morning, however, they were jolted when lookouts spied five warships—four frigates and a brig—racing toward them.

  Hull was enjoying his first complete night’s sleep in a long time, and he reluctantly rolled out of bed to prepare a run into the harbor and the protecti
on of its forts. At eight o’clock, however, he trained his telescope on the approaching fleet and was relieved to see American flags hoisted. Commodore Rodgers’s President was in the lead. He was returning from his unsuccessful chase after the Jamaica convoy.

  Rodgers had spotted the Constitution at daylight, but being too far away to identify her, he cleared for action, hoping she was a British frigate. Midshipman Matthew Calbraith Perry recorded in his journal, “At daylight discovered a frigate lying in Nantasket Roads, cleared ship for action and stood for her. At 7:00 she proved the frigate Constitution from a cruise, having captured the British frigate Guerriere.”

  The Constitution led a parade of nearly the entire American fleet into town. The reception was tremendous. The Washington artillery fired one salute after another, while people gathered on the wharves, the rooftops, and the ships in the harbor to cheer and applaud.

  Rodgers knew the ovation was for the Constitution. He appeared to have accomplished little on his lengthy cruise. And making matters worse, he had been forced to return prematurely because of scurvy. It was inexcusable to have a mission aborted because of widespread scurvy. Although the cause of the disease had not been identified, and would not be until the twentieth century, measures to prevent it were well-known. The President managed to complete the voyage without suffering a single case; the United States and the Congress should have been able to do the same. Six men had died on the two frigates, and thirty-three had to be taken to the hospital. Forty-one others had symptoms but did not need hospitalization.