Every Man Will Do His Duty (72 page)

At 7 the next morning, the wind being light from the southward, and the ships about thirty or forty miles off the eastern part of Long Island, within about musket shot of each other, I determined to attempt my escape. There appeared no disposition on the part of the enemy to liberate the
Essex Junior,
and I felt myself justified in this measure. A boat was accordingly lowered down, manned and armed; and I left with Lieut. Downes the following message for Capt. Nash: “that Captain Porter was now satisfied, that most British officers were not only destitute of honour, but regardless of the honour of each other; that he was armed and prepared to defend himself against his boats, if sent in pursuit of him; and that he must be met, if met at all, as an enemy.” I now pulled off from the ship, keeping the
Essex Junior
in a direct line between my boat and the
Saturn,
and got nearly gun shot from her before they discovered me. At that instant, a fresh breeze sprang up, and the
Saturn
made all sail after us. Fortunately, however, a thick fog came on, upon which I changed my course, and entirely eluded further pursuit. During the fog, I heard a firing; and on its clearing up, saw the
Saturn
in chase of the
Essex Junior;
which vessel was soon brought to. After rowing and sailing about sixty miles, I at last succeeded, with much difficulty and hazard, in reaching the town of Babylon, on Long Island, where, being strongly suspected of being a British officer, I was closely
interrogated; and, my story appearing rather extraordinary, was not credited. But on showing my commission, all doubts were removed, and from that moment, all united in affording me the most liberal hospitality.

On my arrival by land at New York, the reception given me by the inhabitants, as well as by those of every other place through which I passed, it becomes not me to record. It is sufficient to say, it has made an impression on my mind, never to be effaced.

The
Essex Junior,
after being detained the whole of the day following my escape, and ransacked for money; her crew mustered on deck, under pretence of detecting deserters; her officers insulted and treated with shameful outrage; was at length dismissed and arrived next day at New-York, where she was condemned and sold. In the language I used at that time and subsequently, with regard to the character and conduct of British naval officers, some persons have found great cause of offence. For my full justification, I rest on the foregoing narrative, with the documents by which it is supported. Years have passed away since I first made these assertions; but they have brought with them no experience but what confirms my first impressions.

My escape from unjustifiable detention by the captain of the
Saturn,
was asserted to be a breach of parole; and I have the most undeniable evidence that Admiral Cochrane mustered the officers of his fleet, on his quarter deck, declaring to them that I was out of the pale of honour, and must be treated accordingly. The correspondence between the agents of the two governments, in the Appendix to this volume, will show, by Admiral Cochrane’s own distinct admission, that his government, on being made fully acquainted with the circumstances, declared me “discharged from my parole and as free to serve in any capacity as if I had never been made prisoner.” Yet, notwithstanding all this, care has been taken to keep up the impression that I remain still under this imputation of a breach of parole, by withholding, on all occasions, the public recantation of a charge publicly made and—unanswerably refuted.

In 1815 Captain Porter was named to the Board of Navy Commissioners. He would later serve as commander in chief of the Mexican Navy against Spain. President Andrew Jackson employed him in diplomatic capacities in the Mediterranean before his death in 1843.

¹
Commodore William Bainbridge, on board the Constitution, was in charge of the squadron consisting of the
Constitution
, the
Essex
, and the
Hornet
, dispatched to the South Pacific.

F
OLLOWING A TOUR IN
the West Indies, Lieutenant William Bowers joined the JL10-gun brig HMS Helicon in 1810 for a cruise off the Scilly Islands, a stretch of water he would come to know well during the next five years. With the outbreak of the American war, “we began to tire of our hard weather, and limited station,” notes Bowers. “Now and then, however, we contrived to stretch a point by getting into the wake of some smart sailing runner from Guernsey or Jersey, which by a long chase brought us into the stream of Nantes or Bordeaux. It was only necessary to keep out of the way of senior officers, and not to be caught poaching on their domains”
(Naval Adventures During Thirty-Five Years’ Service,
vol. 1, p. 259
).

WE HAD NOW CAPTURED
or destroyed six privateers, besides other vessels of the enemy; this perhaps had some weight with the powers, as, on putting into Plymouth to refit, our worthy commander at length received the promotion he had so long merited, and he left us accompanied by the regret and good wishes of all on board. He was superseded in the command by the youngest son of a distinguished flag officer, who, having been all his time in large ships, at first seemed by no means to congratulate himself on his appointment to the “little bum-boat” as he called her, and used frequently to rally me on the pride I seemed to take in her; but when he got accustomed to her, his opinion of her became as favourable as my own.

Not long after, we returned to our old station west of Scilly, in company with the W, one of the crack American prize schooners, a beautiful
vessel, which the dock-yard wiseacres, however, had done their best to spoil by twice reducing her masts and cramping her with bulk heads and wood work below, so that, though built expressly for fast sailing, as her model denoted, we could at all times work round her. From this, and a deficiency of skill and activity in her commander, an officer who, not having been employed for twenty years, knew not how to handle her—we lost several good prizes. One day when he was about five miles to windward, a large ship came down before the wind and passed him within hail without heaving-to. She was at first steering west by north, but, observing her gradually alter her course, as if to avoid us, I made known my suspicions to the captain, who was at first inclined to let her pass, and obtained his permission to board her. A few shot brought her down; I was already in the boat, but out of sight to leeward, and as soon as she passed within hail, saying she was bound to Newfoundland, I was alongside before any one on board were well aware of the movement, and, springing on deck, found two sailors overhauling a pocket-book, which I instantly seized, and found it contained two American protections or certificates of naturalization. On asking for the captain, a dirty-looking fellow with ear-rings, in the costume of a pig-driver, and with hands the colour of soot, presented himself with a roll of greasy papers. I asked him what privateer he belonged to; he coolly answered, “The
True-Blooded Yankee.”
¹
The ship in fact was a valuable West Indiaman, the salvage of which subsequently furnished us with something to carry on the war in Plymouth, and make a cruise or two to Ivybridge.
²
She had been captured two days before, on her way from Bristol to Cork, to join the convoy. Two young men were found locked up in one of the cabins—one, the nephew of the mayor of the former place; these expressing a desire to pay their respects to our captain, I took them on board, and on their return they insisted on loading the boat with some of the good things with which the ship abounded, which they requested us to accept in the name of their friends.

About the beginning of July we received orders to proceed to the longitude of 12° west, to join our old consort the
Reindeer;
this was very agreeable to us all, as we had not only more than once cruised together before, but had always admired the spirit and activity evinced by the management
of this ill-fated vessel, and the officerlike and gentlemanly bearing of her truly noble commander, Captain Manners, with whom I had the pleasure of being on the most intimate terms. We had frequently discussed together the best way of dealing with our disproportioned American foes, to which one or both were liable every hour to be opposed. His favourite idea always was, “Yard-arm, and yard-arm, three broadsides double-shotted, and board.”—Poor fellow! he little thought the opportunity of essaying the experiment was so near. Approaching our ground, we fell in with the
Achates,
Captain Langhorn, and the following day discovered the wreck of a vessel’s mast and rigging floating in the water. This at first created no sensation, supposing it to have belonged to some unfortunate foundered trader, one of those numerous instances of unnavigable craft, so little seaworthy, that no one will underwrite them, but which nevertheless are permitted to sacrifice the lives and property of thousands.

Our feelings may be imagined, when, on sending a boat to examine the wreck, the evidence afforded by the grape-shot sticking in the mast, the marks and dimensions of the main cap, the sails, and rigging, left no doubt of the
Reindeer’s
fate.
³
The main-mast appeared to have been burnt off by the copper in the wake of the main boom. Everything denoted that the strife had been sanguinary, and the catastrophe recent; whoever had been the antagonist, he had found tough work. We steered away to the
westward, keeping a sharp look-out, and, impotent as our endeavours might prove, fervently prayed for the opportunity of avenging our unfortunate companions. At the end of a week we returned to the spot, where we now found the wreck of the fore-mast.

Not long after, in company with the
Scylla,
eighteen, about two hundred miles west of Scilly, we descried a large ship under a heavy press of sail, steering about W by N. She was painted black, showed no guns or colours, other than a small white flag at the fore-mast, which, with the manner she shortened sail, and backed her main-top sail, keeping the foresail and jib on her, after we had whipped a few shot across her bows, impressed us with the idea of her being a merchantman. I proceeded to board her, and on pulling up in her wake, was struck with her breadth of beam, and the warlike cut of her canvass. When close up on her quarter, I hailed her, and was given to understand she was the United States ship
John Adams,
having on board the American Envoy from the Texel, bearing the proposals for peace, and with an Admiralty passport. The captain at the same time invited me on board, pledging his word of honour, that I should not be detained. On this I pulled up and mounted the side. To my astonishment, as I was about to step on deck, I found the whole crew at their guns prepared for action, the matches burning, and the man with the train tackle falls in hands ready for running out the guns. This corresponded so little with the peaceable declaration I had just received, that, not choosing to risk my own honour and the fate of the two vessels, I instantly jumped into the boat, and returned to report what I had seen. By this time the
Scylla
was on her weather quarter, and her commander, a fine veteran of the old school, being senior officer, I reported to him what I had seen. He replied,
“Bear a hand on board your ship; tell W— to keep his jib-boom on my taffrail, and we will soon see who he is.” A few minutes after, both brigs ranged up on his weather beam, as close as we could without danger of falling on board, and with a voice like the roaring of a lion old Darby then hailed, ordering him to send an officer with his passport. This was complied with, and all being found correct, I returned with the American first lieutenant, a fine young fellow, and was received very ceremoniously.

On entering the cabin I was introduced to the envoy, Mr. Dallas
⁴
; refreshment was offered, and I am almost ashamed to say refused; however, a young man may sometimes be excused if, influenced by a national sentiment, and in the hurry of the moment, he should overlook those nice shades of conduct, which should guide him according to time, place, and circumstance. A mutually courteous bearing between individuals of hostile nations, thus thrown together, certainly tends “to smooth war’s wrinkled front,” the ordinary evils of which are enough for suffering humanity, without carrying the brand to the social board. The American captain expressed himself hurt at the cavalier and imperious manner in which he was hailed by the English commodore, as he styled him. I assured him nothing offensive was intended, but that it was his natural manner, being a plain rough seaman. This ship had been a frigate, now razee, and mounting twenty forty-two pounders, and two long twelves, with a crew of three hundred men.

The downfall of Napoleon, and the consequent turn which affairs had taken in Europe, having now left us but one enemy to contend with, we continued on our old station, keenly looking out for, and expecting every day to come to the scratch with some of our “Yankee cousins,” who were making great havoc among our merchant-ships, but never could get scent of any of them. We had by this time weathered out four years on this trying service, and, as little was now to be done, began anxiously to wish for a change. At length Buonaparte returned from Elba, and in the beginning of April we were sent to Nantes, with the Prince Regent’s proclamation, promising protection to all vessels navigating under the white or Bourbon flag. The merchants of this large city were so well pleased with this intelligence, that they sent on board about two hundred dozen of their choice wines, for the admiral, Sir Henry Hotham, and ourselves. Fifteen months after, when the battle of Waterloo, and the surrender on board the
Bellerophon,
had finally sealed the emperor’s fate, we were again sent to the same place with the news. On this occasion the purser, doctor, and myself accompanied the captain to the city, and were received by the mayor and authorities with marked respect and attention. The former, being too much
occupied with his municipal duties to be much with us, consigned us to the care of his brother-in-law, who entertained us at the Hotel de France, where we had an excellent dinner, and in the evening, accompanied us to the theatre. Between the play and farce we adjourned to the coffee-house attached to the latter, and were sipping our punch, when the hussar officers entered, apparently in a state of intoxication, and in the greatest excitement. On seeing us, one of them exclaimed,
“Voilà! les b—s Anglois, les pirates!”
with other insulting language. I was for resenting the injury instanter, by sending a bottle at his head, and was with some difficulty prevailed on by my companions to take no notice of the affront, which, under all the circumstances of our situation, was undoubtedly the most prudent course. Our respectable host, aware of the effervescing feeling of the military, who were entirely opposed to the political opinions of the commercial part of the community, and expressed the most rancourous hatred of every thing English—appeared very uneasy. Our hero, having apostrophized us in some of the choicest rhetorical flowers of La Halle, appropriately finished by filling a paper biscuit-bag with wind, putting it behind one of our chairs, and, stamping on it, which made it explode like a pistol; then drawing his sword, he flourished it over his head. I never found it more difficult to repress my indignation. We now rose to leave the room, and, loitering behind the others, I fixed myself in the middle of the saloon, opposite to our Bobadil, and fixing on him a look which could not well be misinterpreted—for I knew not a word of the language—drew my sword half way out of the scabbard. The effect was magical; he cowered from my gaze, all his heroics seemed in an instant to have evaporated, and in a minute he was taken out of the room as peaceable as a lamb by a gendarme, and placed under arrest by order of his colonel.