by Roy Adkins
Meanwhile the armed forces on land began to march towards Baltimore. Ross was in the advance guard, but about halfway to the city, in dense woods, he was shot by a rifleman concealed in a tree, and to the shock of everyone he died as he was carried back to the boats. William Stanhope Lovell was waiting in one of the boats at North Point and watched as Ross ‘was brought down, wrapped in a union jack, attended by his aide-de-camp; I placed the body in my boat, and sent it on board’.11 Ross was later taken to Halifax, where he was buried. The British detested the way American riflemen acted as snipers, and Midshipman Bluett commented on one incident that occurred the next day:It was the custom of the Yankeys to conceal them[selves] in trees, and being excellent marksmen, they picked off a good many of our stragglers. Two seamen of the Tonnant, Denis Sulivan & Ino Robinson, the day after Genl. R. was killed, straggled away in search of spirits, and passing under a large tree, Robinson received a rifle ball through his hat, which being fired above him, absolutely grazed the skin off his ear, shoulder, finger & great toe; and Denis looking up found the Yankey perched in the tree; who seeing they had pistols, and his own piece discharged, begged them to shew mercy. Devil burn me if I do, says Denis, it was just such a spalpein [rascal] as you, killed our Genl - besides you’ve had your shot, it’s our time now. I’ll bet you a pint of grog Jack, I bring him down the first shot. Adone says the other, if you miss I’ll try; they both missed, and then agreed that as they had their turn, it would not be fair play to kill the fellow; they therefore made him come down, and drawing their cutlasses placed him between them, and marched him arm & arm into the camp.12
After Ross was killed the army pushed on towards Baltimore, but within 5 miles of the city they came up against a formidable American force that was blocking a narrow neck of land. Lieutenant Scott commented on the actions of Cockburn while they prepared themselves for battle: ‘Previously to the commencement of the attack, the Rear-admiral [Cockburn], who was well known to the enemy from his white horse and gold-laced hat, rode along the line from left to right, at a foot pace. The instant he was perceived, the fire of the enemy’s guns seemed to follow him the whole length of the line; the shot might be seen grazing before, behind, under, and passing over his horse. I several times heard the troops, as he approached in front of them, jokingly exclaim, “look out, my lads, here is the Admiral coming, you’ll have it directly”.’13
Bluett detailed the attack: ‘The command devolving on Col [Arthur] Brooke, he marched on to the attack, & the Americans laying their pieces over the paling, took deliberate aim at our men, advancing in the open field without firing a shot; as soon however as we were within pistol distance, we saluted them with a general discharge of small arms and artillery, and chargeing under cover of the smoke, came suddenly upon them, and routed them with great slaughter, so that finding it impossible to stand against us, they threw down their arms and ran like hares.’14 Scott reckoned that ‘it was a second edition of the “Bladensburg Races”’.15
Early the next day the troops began to move forward once more, in heavy rain, while the navy commenced a bombardment of Fort McHenry, situated to the south of the city and the key to its defences. ‘At day break the next morning,’ Cochrane reported, ‘the bombs having taken their stations within shell range, supported by the Surprize, with the other frigates and sloops, opened their fire upon the fort that protected the entrance of the harbour, and I had now an opportunity of observing the strength and the preparations of the enemy.’16 The bombardment lasted all day and into the night, and was recorded by Midshipman Barrett:Early on the morning of the 13th, our squadron of five frigates, having three Admirals’ flags hoisted, anchored in a line of battle, about one mile and three-quarters distant from the heavy batteries which defended the entrance of the port, or Baltimore harbour. Three bombs and a rocket ship also took up their position at a similar distance, and immediately commenced a heavy fire of shells and rockets upon the forts - several of which, we could perceive, fell far within the harbour. Such was the terror caused by the approach of the British Navy . . . that a complete chain of vessels were sunk across the entrance of the port; which presented a cheering and animating spectacle at this period to our jolly tars - for the harbour was pretty full of merchant-vessels, together with their beautiful new frigate, the Java, supported by a numerous flotilla of gun-vessels.17
According to Barrett, they were all confident of soon being able to fly the British flag over Baltimore’s fort and were impatient for the order to move in closer:About two o’clock in the afternoon, I was in the launch with our First Lieutenant, for the purpose of reconnoitring the harbour; when we had proceeded about three hundred yards ahead of our frigate, the fortifications opened a steady and deliberate fire, with their long, heavy guns, at the bomb-vessels, who, perceiving the enemy’s shot passed over them, shifted their position about half a mile further out; and at this distance - two miles and a quarter, at least - we could perceive both the shells and rockets alight within the range of the harbour. During this cannonade, there was a large, flat gunboat close to our launch, directed hither for a similar purpose, when a black man, who was standing up in the centre, was cut clean in half by one of the enemy’s shot. This was a sufficient warning for us to shift our berth, and proceed on board our frigate.18
The British firing continued into the night, as he described:All this night the bombardment continued with unabated vigour; the hissing rockets and the fiery shells glittered in the air, threatening destruction as they fell: whilst to add solemnity to this scene of devastation, the rain fell in torrents - the thunder broke in mighty peals after each successive flash of lightning, that for a moment illuminated the surrounding darkness. This was the period, fast approaching midnight, selected for the boats of the squadron to make a diversion in favour of our army, by feigning an attack on the fortifications which probably might flank their position. Musket flashes and continuous cheers along the flotilla added excitement and interest to a scene already imposing.19
The troops by now had come within a mile and a half of Baltimore, and Colonel Brooke thought that it was feasible to attack, but at this late stage Cochrane decided that the navy could not offer support because ‘the entrance by sea, within which the Town is retired nearly three miles, was entirely obstructed by a barrier of vessels sunk at the mouth of the harbour, defended inside by gun-boats, flanked on the right by a strong and regular fortification, and on the left by a battery of several heavy guns’.20 He sent a note to Brooke pessimistically concluding that ‘a naval co-operation against the town was found impracticable’,21 and so Brooke agreed that the attack on Baltimore’s fortifications should not proceed.
The decision to give up was a terrible blow after all their hard work, as Barrett clearly felt:The boats returned on board, and, as the morning dawned, the storm had passed away, and the heavens once more assumed the aspect of serenity and peace - whilst the twinkling stars shone bright and clear, and the tranquillity of the night was broken only by the firing of the bombs, as they still continued with unremitting assiduity to hurl their destructive missiles on the foe. It is almost needless to add, that our men continued at their quarters during the whole of this night, and that the ships were all clear and ready for action, but their services were not required . . .Thus, after bombarding the forts and harbour of Baltimore [from smaller ships] for twenty-four hours, the squadron of frigates weighed, without firing a shot, upon the forenoon of the 14th, and were immediately followed by the bombs and sloops-of-war. In truth, it was a galling spectacle for British seamen to behold. And, as the last vessel spread her canvas to the wind, the Americans hoisted a most superb and splendid ensign on their battery, and fired at the same time a gun of defiance.22
Francis Scott Key became famous for having observed the bombardment. He was a lawyer who worked in Georgetown, a small settlement adjacent to Washington. At the time of the attack on the capital he was a volunteer in the light artillery, and he found out that his friend Dr William Beane had been taken p
risoner by the British. Beane was a physician at Upper Marlborough and had himself been involved in capturing marauding British stragglers from the army. Because it was feared that Beane might be hanged, President Madison gave his approval for Key to go to Baltimore on board a vessel (the Minden) that was used as a flag of truce. He was accompanied by John Skinner, the American agent for prisoner exchanges, and the pair had caught up with the British fleet at the mouth of the Potomac, preparing for the expedition against Baltimore.
Because of the kindness shown to the wounded British prisoners, it was agreed that Beane could be released, but for the time being they all had to stay on board a frigate in case they leaked news of the plan of attack. Once the fleet neared Baltimore they were allowed to return to the Minden, with a guard of marines, from where they witnessed the bombardment. The previous year two new flags had been commissioned for Fort McHenry, including one that measured 30 by 40 feet with fifteen stars and eight red and seven white stripes (the official United States flag authorised in the Flag Act of 1794). As the three Americans watched they had no idea whether or not the town had surrendered, but in the morning the smaller flag was still flying over the fort, and as the British left, it was replaced by the huge one that so impressed Barrett. It survives today in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington.
During the assault Key began to jot down a poem, which he finished when back at Baltimore. The red glare of the rockets and the bombs bursting in the air of the first verse refer to the bombardment. Copies were printed and circulated under the title ‘Defence of Fort M’Henry’, and it was also printed in the Baltimore Patriot newspaper on 20 September, with an editorial comment that the song ‘is destined long to outlast the occasion and outlive the impulse which produced it’.23 It was sung to the tune of ‘To Anacreon in Heaven’, a British drinking song, and was adopted as the national anthem of the United States in 1931.
The British army retreated to North Point, where they were taken on board the various ships on 15 September. Both Cochrane and Brooke tried to put a positive emphasis on the expedition, and in his official dispatch Cochrane informed the Admiralty that ‘the result of this demonstration has been the defeat of the army of the enemy, the destruction, by themselves, of a quantity of shipping, the burning of an extensive rope-walk, and other public erections, the causing of them to remove their property from the city, and above all, the collecting and harassing of his armed inhabitants from the surrounding country; producing a total stagnation of their commerce, and heaping upon them considerable expences’.24
Most of the seamen thought the retreat was a dreadful mistake, including Barrett: ‘As a youngster of fifteen, in common with older heads than my own, I confess, I thought that, with the display of ordinary judgement, perseverance, and decision, upon the occasion, the batteries which defended the entrance of the port might have been graced with the colours of Old England; and the numerous merchant-vessels and shipping within the harbour have been our lawful prizes.’25 It was wrong, he added, to think that the frigates could not get close to the fortifications: ‘The truth is, I believe, pretty well known that our frigates could have approached within a cable’s length of these batteries, if required, allowing the wind was fair; but how they were to retreat, in case of a reverse, with a foul wind, in shoal water, is quite another thing.’26 Everyone had missed out on glory and prize money, and as they made towards Chesapeake Bay the mood was gloomy: ‘It was with the batteries bidding us defiance - the weather scowling with a thick drizzling rain upon our proceedings - whilst our hearts and spirits were depressed in the extreme - that we retired down the Patapsco River, with far different sensations from those we experienced on entering it.’27 The focus of attacks now shifted more than 1000 miles to the south-west.
New Orleans was one of the oldest and richest cities in America. It had been established by the French in 1718, and the city came under Spanish control after the end of the Seven Years’ War in 1763. Much of the French architecture of the city was wiped out in disastrous fires in 1788 and 1794, but the rebuilt city continued to prosper, gaining its wealth from its position as a port at the mouth of the Mississippi, handling trade to and from great distances into the continent via river boats. After the slave uprising in 1791 on the French colony of Saint Domingue (later Haiti), the wealth and population of the city were boosted by an influx of refugee plantation owners and their slaves. Over the next few years the city rapidly changed hands, being ceded to France by Spain as part of Louisiana, which was then sold to the Americans by Napoleon. None of these changes seemed to check the rising prosperity of New Orleans, which could afford to be at the forefront of technological development: the first steamboat had arrived there in 1812. The city was now one of the great trading centres of the world, and an obvious target for the British.
An attack on New Orleans from the sea had been long in the planning, because the hot and steamy summer climate and the autumn hurricane season were not ideal times to launch an amphibious assault, and so it was necessary to wait for winter. The coastal territory to the east of New Orleans was the subject of dispute between America and Spain, so that although Pensacola was still in Spanish hands and could be used as a base by the British, Fort Bowyer, further west along the coast, had been captured and strengthened by the Americans, who knew that an attack would eventually be made on New Orleans itself. Fort Bowyer was situated at Mobile Point, protecting the approach to Mobile, which held the only other major American military force in the area besides New Orleans. A preliminary attack on this fort in September 1814 proved a terrible failure. The British ships were defeated by the shallow waters around Mobile Point and by the short range of their guns, which were largely carronades. The attack was beaten off with the loss of the frigate Hermes, one of only two British vessels to manoeuvre their guns within range of the fort. The Hermes ran aground and had to be abandoned and set on fire. It was not a good start to the campaign.
Apart from a few American gunboats, the British Navy had total
Map of the failed attack in September 1814 on Fort Bowyer, Mobile Point
control of the waters around New Orleans, but the failure to capture Fort Bowyer undermined the confidence of potential allies. The British had opened negotiations with the local Creek Indians and were relying on their support along with the Spanish and Portuguese. A third force was also approached by both sides - the pirates and smugglers based in the Bay of Barataria. Their ships had brought many of the refugees from Saint Domingue to New Orleans, and by 1814 they were well established, while their wealth afforded rich bribes that made them immune from the rule of law in their constant struggle with the governor of the city. They were led by two brothers, Jean and Pierre Lafitte, but in July 1814 the governor had scored a success by arresting Pierre and managing to hold him on charges of piracy.
Two months later the British had approached Jean Lafitte in an attempt to gain his assistance in the forthcoming attack, presenting a mixture of threats and promises. Lafitte was more concerned about what actions the New Orleans authorities were taking against him, since he knew that the shallow waters around his stronghold kept him out of effective reach of the British. He informed the governor about the British approach and offered his services to the Americans in return for Pierre’s release and a free pardon. The authorities decided against this, but Pierre escaped from prison and Jean moved most of his stores, ammunition and men to the safety of a new base at Isle Derniere, about 40 miles to the west. When his old base was raided, however, twenty-six ships were seized, along with a few of his men and his eldest brother, Dominique You.
In late November the British forces began to assemble in Jamaica and embark on board the ships that were commanded by Cochrane. In all, there were around 7500 troops, including two black regiments from Jamaica, under the overall command of Major-General John Keane. At the same time the American Major-General Andrew Jackson, who was in charge of the defence of a vast area of the south, including the Louisiana and Mis
sissippi territories, moved from Mobile, where he had been responsible for the strengthening of Fort Bowyer, to New Orleans itself.
