CAPTAIN JOSHUA BARNEY
Among the earlier privateersmen in the War of Secession was Joshua Barney, a naval officer, who, after having been a prisoner of war for five months, was released by exchange, and, failing naval employment, went as first officer of a privateer under Captain Isaiah Robinson—also a naval officer.
Barney had previously made a venture on his own account in a small trading-vessel, which was speedily captured, the English captain landing his prisoners on the Chesapeake.
After some difficulty, Robinson secured a brig namedPomona; she carried a scratch armament of 12 guns of various sizes and a crew of 35 men. The vessel was laden with tobacco for Bordeaux, and the primary object was to get the cargo through safely: but Robinson and Barney, with their naval training, were by no means averse to a fight, and they had only been out a few days when the opportunity arose, a fast-sailing brig giving chase and quickly overhauling thePomona.
At 8 p.m. on a February evening, with a bright moon, the stranger came within hail, ran up her colours, and asked, "What ship is that?" TheAmerican ran up his flag, and the Englishman immediately shouted to haul it down.
Upon this Robinson delivered his broadside, which inflicted considerable damage upon the other, bringing down his foretopsail, cutting some of his rigging, and causing, we are told, much surprise and confusion on board—though why the Englishmen should be surprised it is difficult to comprehend, as it is to be presumed that they chased with the intention of fighting.
Then commenced a running action, which lasted until nearly midnight. The English captain, finding that thePomonahad no stern-gun ports, endeavoured to keep as much as possible astern and on the quarter where he could ply his bow-guns without receiving much in return; but, we are told, the crew had been thrown into such confusion by thePomona'sfirst broadside that they were able to fireonly one or two shots every half-hour—three or four rounds an hour; so Robinson had a port cut in his stern, and ran out a 3-pounder gun there; and, when the English vessel was coming up again for another of her leisurely discharges, she received a dose of grape which caused her captain to haul off—nor did he venture near enough during the night to fire another shot.
Daylight showed the English brig to be armed with sixteen guns; and several officers were observed, displaying themselves in conspicuous places, in uniforms resembling those of the Navy. This was supposed to be a ruse, whereby the Americans were to be demoralised, imagining themselves to be engaged with a regular ship of war. "This, the English thought,"says Mr. Maclay, "would show the Americans the hopelessness of the struggle, and would induce them to surrender without further resistance"; but he does not know what the English thought, or whether the officers in this privateer habitually dressed in some kind of uniform of their own.
However, the enemy, about sunrise, approached the quarter of thePomonawith the obvious intention of boarding; and then the 3-pounder came into play once more. It was loaded with grape-shot, "and the charge was topped off by a crowbar stuck into the muzzle." Waiting until the enemy was just about to board, Robinson, with his own hand, let go this charge of grape and crowbar, "and with such accurate aim" (at, say, ten yards range!) "that the British were completely baffled in their attempt, their foresails and all their weather foreshrouds being cut away."
Well, one cannot, of course, say that this is untrue; but that 3-pounder was certainly a marvellous little piece. It carried a solid ball, the size of which may be judged by any one who will toss up a three-pound weight from an ordinary set of scales, and the bore of the gun was just large enough to admit it easily; yet we are told that the charge of grape—small iron or leaden bullets—was equal to cutting all the foreshrouds, and all the head-sail halyards—if this is what is meant by "foresails," which is a vague term, not in use among seamen.
This, however, is the story; and the English captain immediately putting his helm "hard up" to take the strain off his unsupported foremast, Robinsontook occasion to give him a raking broadside; and this was the last shot fired, the Englishman failing to come up to the scratch again, and thePomonaproceeding on her voyage.
The British vessel was said to be the privateerRosebud, with a crew of one hundred men, of whom forty-seven were killed and wounded; we are not told thePomona'sloss. Captain Duncan, of theRosebud, complained at New York that the Americans had not "fought fair," using "langrage"—i.e.rough bits of iron, old nails, etc.; but this illusion was put down to the crowbar—quite a legitimate missile!
There is no British account to hand of this action; but it is impossible to feel any great admiration of the "Rosebuds," in allowing a vessel of such inferior force to beat them off. They must have been sadly lacking in thorns!
ThePomonareached Bordeaux in safety, and there her captain, having sold his tobacco, purchased a more satisfactory lot of guns, powder, and shot, and raised his crew to 70 men; and, having shipped a cargo of brandy, made sail on his return voyage to America.
On the road he encountered a British privateer of 16 guns and 70 men; after several encounters, the Englishman all the while endeavouring to escape, Robinson captured her: British loss, 12 killed, and "a number" wounded; American loss, 1 killed, 2 wounded.
ThePomona, however, was destined to have her career cut short by capture, and then there commenced a series of adventures for Joshua Barney as a prisoner of war. We are not told when or by whomthePomonawas captured; Mr. Maclay, on page 148, says: "In the chapter on 'Navy Officers in Privateers', mention was made of the capture of the armed brig,Pomona, commanded by Captain Isaiah Robinson, who had, as his first officer, Lieutenant Joshua Barney, also of the regular service." There is nothing, however, to be found, in the chapter referred to, about the capture of thePomona. The final allusion is to her safe arrival in America from Bordeaux, probably in September 1779.
However, it appears that Joshua Barney became a prisoner some time between September 1779 and the autumn of 1780, and was placed in one of the prison-ships. The arrival of Admiral Byron, it is said, brought about a welcome change in the prison administration; some additional ships were ordered for the accommodation of the American officers, and the admiral personally inspected all the prison-ships once a week; while some of the officers who belonged to the regular navy were taken on board the flagshipArdent.
Barney, it appears, was selected for special consideration by Admiral Byron, having a boat placed at his service, and being entrusted with the duty of visiting the prison-ships in which his compatriots were confined and reporting upon their condition to the admiral. The only restriction placed upon his liberty was the obligation to sleep on board theArdent: he was certainly a most highly favoured prisoner of war.
Upon one occasion, landing in New York in his American naval uniform, to breakfast with one of the admiral's staff, he was seized upon by an infuriatedmob, who were proceeding to throw him into a fire which was raging, alleging that he had originated the conflagration. A British officer fortunately intervened and explained the situation.
Upon the advent of Admiral Rodney, however, this pleasant time came to an end; and in November—notDecember, as in Mr. Maclay's account—1780, Barney, in company with about seventy other American officers, was placed on board theYarmouth, a 64-gun ship, under the command of Captain Lutwidge, for conveyance to England; and here is Mr. Maclay's description of the treatment they received.
"From the time these Americans stepped aboard theYarmouththeir captors gave it to be understood, by hints and innuendoes, that they were being taken to England to 'be hanged as rebels'; and, indeed, the treatment they received aboard theYarmouthon the passage over led them to believe that the British officers intended to cheat the gallows of their prey by causing the prisoners to die before reaching port. On coming aboard the ship of the line these officers were stowed away in the lower hold, next to the keel, under five decks, and many feet below the water-line. Here, in a twelve-by-twenty-foot room, with up-curving floor, and only three feet high, the seventy-one men were stowed for fifty-three days like so much merchandise, without light or good air, unable to stand upright, with no means and with no attempt made to remove the accumulating filth! Their food was of the poorest quality, and was supplied in such insufficient quantities that, whenever one of theprisoners died, the survivors concealed the fact until the body began to putrefy, in order that the dead man's allowance might be added to theirs. The water served them to drink was so thick with repulsive matter that the prisoners were compelled to strain it between compressed teeth.
"From the time theYarmouthleft New York till she reached Plymouth, in a most tempestuous winter's passage, these men were kept in this loathsome dungeon. Eleven died in delirium, their wild ravings and piercing shrieks appalling their comrades, and giving them a foretaste of what they themselves might soon expect. Not even a surgeon was permitted to visit them. Arriving at Plymouth the pale, emaciated, festering men were ordered to come on deck. Not one obeyed, for they were unable to stand upright. Consequently they were hoisted up, the ceremony being grimly suggestive of the manner in which they had been treated—like merchandise. And what were they to do, now that they had been placed on deck? The light of the sun, which they had scarcely seen for fifty-three days, fell upon their weak, dilated pupils with blinding force, their limbs unable to uphold them, their frames wasted by disease and want. Seeking for support, they fell in a helpless mass, one upon the other, waiting and almost hoping for the blow that was to fall upon them next. Captain Silas Talbot was one of these prisoners.
"To send them ashore in this condition was 'impracticable,' so the British officers said, and we readily discover that this 'impracticable' served the furtherpurpose of diverting the just indignation of the landsfolk, which surely would be aroused if they saw such brutality practised under St. George's cross. Waiting, then, until the captives could at least endure the light of day, and could walk without leaning on one another or clutching at every object for support, the officers had them moved to old Mill Prison."
This is a terrible picture of the treatment of American prisoners of war, in striking contrast to the generous conduct of Vice-Admiral the Hon. John Byron—to give him his correct title—towards Barney and his fellow-prisoners. If it is to be accepted as absolutely true, it should make Englishmen blush to read it, constituting a shameful record against us, as represented by Captain Lutwidge and his subordinates.
But is it absolutely true? This question is suggested, in the first instance, by the utter wildness of the writer's chronology with regard to the pleasing episode in connection with Admiral Byron; for it was during Joshua Barney'sfirstperiod of imprisonment that he came in contact with Byron, in the year 1778. It could not have been after the capture of thePomona, as Byron was in the West Indies in the summer of 1779, in pursuit of the French Admiral D'Estaing, and returned thence to England, arriving on October 10th in that year—he was not employed again. Moreover, during the time of Barney's second imprisonment, at New York, there was noArdenton the Navy List: she was captured by the French on August 17th, 1779—while Barney was on his homeward voyage in thePomona—and recaptured in April 1782.
Such reckless chronicling might well discredit the whole of this writer's account of the incidents; fortunately—or unfortunately—for him, however, there is another source of information in a "Biographical Memoir of Commodore Barney," by Mary Barney—his daughter, perhaps—published in 1832, in which the dates are more consistent with possibilities. Probably Mr. Maclay derived his information from this volume, and, by an extraordinary oversight, confused the two periods.
From this record it appears that Barney was a lieutenant on board the frigateVirginiawhen she was captured by the British on April 1st, 1778, and that he was very kindly treated by two English captains, Caldwell and Onslow, under whose charge he found himself for a time and subsequently, as related, by Admiral Byron.[15]Moreover, it is here stated that it was while serving on board a regular war-ship, theSaratoga, that Barney was a second time made prisoner, being captured when in charge of a prize, and not on board thePomonaat all: so here is more recklessness of narration, which appears quite inexcusable, as the writer, it is to be presumed, had access to this memoir, which is said to be compiled from Barney's own statements to the author.
Now, with regard to the shocking treatment of the prisoners on board theYarmouth.
Mary Barney disclaims any wish to aggravate the case, declaring that she had the story from the lips of Joshua Barney, and appeals to his generous recognition of former kindness as a guarantee against wilful misrepresentation on this occasion.
Very good. But there is in existence the captain's log of theYarmouth, also his letter to the Admiralty, reporting his arrival in England, and these official documents tend to discredit the dismal story in some important particulars.
TheYarmouth, we learn, sailed on November 15th, 1780, and arrived at Plymouth on December 29th—so she was forty-four, not fifty-three days at sea. The weather was very rough, and the ship developed some serious leaks, which increased alarmingly through the straining in the heavy sea. Under these circumstances, the ship's company being very sickly, with more than one hundred men actually on the sick list—one hundred and eleven, according to the "State and Condition" report on arrival—Captain Lutwidge states that he had the prisoners "watched"—i.e.divided into port and starboard watch, and set them to the pumps: "I found it necessary to employ the prisoners at the pumps, and on that account to order them whole allowance of provisions—the ship's company, from their weak and sickly state, being unequal to that duty."
According to the log,fiveprisoners, not eleven, died on the voyage, the deaths and burials at sea being precisely recorded.
So here we have the official record that, while the ship's company were too much enfeebled by sicknessto work the pumps—in addition, of course, to constant handling of the heavy sails and spars in tempestuous weather—the American prisoners were sufficiently robust to perform this duty, and probably save the vessel from serious peril through her leaky condition.
In order to do this they must have been called on deck and mustered, placed in watches, and subsequently summoned in regular turn for their "spell" at the pumps.
This story is obviously incompatible with the other, and it is, to say the least of it, very remarkable that this pumping in watches, and full provision allowance, should have been entirely forgotten by Barney in his narration.
It is certainly open to any one, in view of this omission, to question the accuracy of other statements; to hesitate before accepting the story of seventy-one men being confined in a space twenty feet by twelve and only six inches higher than an ordinary table; of eleven of them dying in shrieking delirium, denied medical attendance, and six out of eleven deaths being suppressed. The treatment of our American prisoners was undoubtedly sometimes unduly harsh, but it is impossible to accept this story as literally true.
Mr. Maclay's book and Mary Barney's memoirs are alike accessible to any one, and for this reason it is necessary that the other side should be heard—Joshua Barney having been a very prominent American privateersman.
While on the subject, it is as well to refer to the treatment of prisoners in Mill Prison, at Plymouth,of which Mr. Maclay has a good deal to say; and in support of his contention as to their being placed upon a different diet from other prisoners of war, he has two sentences in inverted commas (page 152), which are stated in a footnote to be quoted from theAnnual Registerof 1781, page 152; but no such passages occur there, nor in adjacent pages.
It is, however, perfectly true that a petition was presented, on June 20th, 1781, to the House of Lords, and discussed on July 2nd following, from these prisoners. The only complaint which was found to be substantiated was that the Americans were allowed half a pound less bread daily than the French and other nationalities. It would have been more accurate to put it that the French had half a pound more—for this was stated to be supplied, as being equal to the allowance to British prisoners in France. The question of increasing the allowance was put to the vote, and negatived; but it was shown that the American prisoners' diet was, as a whole, superior to that allowed to our own troops on board transports; and their health was stated to be excellent, which is borne out by the fact, as stated by Mr. Maclay, that they indulged in athletic games as a pastime. Men who are half naked and nearly starving do not indulge in such pastimes.
And now for the continued adventures of Joshua Barney, privateersman. Bold and resourceful, he determined to face the difficulties of escape, and the very unpleasant consequences of detection.
One day, playing at leap-frog, he pretended to have sprained his ankle, and for some time afterwardswent about on crutches, maintaining the deception so skilfully as to throw the warders off their guard, and completely deceive all but a few of his intimate friends. He had already paved the way, by making friends with a soldier of the prison guard, who had served in the British army in America, and had there received some kindness, which he was willing to requite by civility to the Americans in Mill Prison.
On May 18th, 1781, this man was on sentry outside the inner gate—the prison being encircled by two high walls, with a space between—and Barney, hopping by on his crutches, whispered through the gate: "Today?" "Dinner," replied the sentry, with equal terseness, which meant one o'clock, when the warders dined. The friendly but disloyal soldier had provided Barney with the undress uniform of a British officer—which appears an unusual sort of thing for a private soldier to be able to lay hands upon without detection—and this Barney donned in his cell, putting on his greatcoat over it—his greatcoat, which, since he sprained his ankle, he had been wearing "for fear he should catch cold": Barney was a man of details.
Still upon crutches, he left his cell, and, at a prearranged signal, some of his friends proceeded to engage the several sentries in conversation, while one, a stalwart individual, stood close by the gate.
Throwing aside his crutches, Barney walked across the enclosure towards the gate, and, first exchanging a reassuring wink with the sentry, sprang with catlike agility upon the shoulders of his athletic accomplice, and in a moment was over the wall. Slippingoff his greatcoat, and "tipping" the soldier to the extent of four guineas, he passed through the gate in the outer wall, which was usually left open for the convenience of the prison officials, but with an attendant on duty who, though we are not told that he had been "squared," obligingly turned his back as the escaping prisoner passed through.
So far, so good. And really Joshua Barney is to be congratulated upon the accommodating character of his custodians, which rendered it possible for him to cross the prison-yard at one o'clock on a May day and scale the wall, while the sentries conversed with his friends and the warders enjoyed their dinner, having previously been permitted to malinger with a sham sprained ankle. We are told that he had it bathed and bandaged for some time without being challenged and detected by the surgeon, though somebody in authority must have provided him with crutches. It appears somewhat absurd to insist upon the rigour of confinement in Mill Prison, in the face of this.
However, Barney was free, and he had friends near by who concealed him, and took him on to the house of an old clergyman in Plymouth in the evening. No immediate inquiry was made for him in the prison, for he had provided a substitute to answer his name at roll-call in the cell every day—a "slender youth," we are told, "who was able to creep through the window-bars at pleasure," and so crawled into Barney's cell and answered for him. We are not told who the "slender youth" was, or how, if he was an American prisoner, he contrived also to answer for himself inhis own cell. Anyhow, this was an amazingly slack prison, for any such freak to be possible.
Finding two fellow-countrymen who had been captured as passengers in a merchant vessel and were looking for a chance of returning, they secured a fishing-smack, Barney rigged himself up in an old coat tied with tarred rope round the waist and a tarpaulin hat, and soon after daybreak they sailed down the River Plym, past the forts and men-of-war, and safely out to sea.
But they were not destined so easily to reach the coast of France, whence they hoped to find a passage to America. An inconveniently zealous British privateer from Guernsey boarded the smack, and the skipper was unduly inquisitive. Upon Barney opening his coat and showing his British uniform, the privateersman, though more polite, was obviously suspicious. What business had a British officer on the enemy's coast?—for Barney had stated that he was bound there. Barney made an official mystery of his "business," and refused to reveal it—a state secret, and so on.
No use! The privateer captain's sensitive conscience would not permit him to let the smack go, and so the two vessels beat up for the English coast in company, and on the following morning came to anchor in a small harbour about six miles from Plymouth, probably Causand Bay. Here the privateer captain went on shore, on his way to Plymouth, to report to Admiral Digby, while most of his crew also landed to avoid the risk of being taken by the press-gang on board.Barney, however, though he was treated with courtesy, was detained on board the privateer.
There was a boat made fast astern, and into this the American quietly slipped, hurting his leg as he did so, and sculled on shore, shouting to some of the idlers on the beach to help him haul up the boat.
The customs officer was disposed to be inquisitive and talkative, but Barney pointed to the blood oozing through his stocking, and said he must go off and get his leg tied up.
"Pray, sir," he said, "can you tell me where our people are?"
He was told they were at the Red Lion, at the end of the village, which he discovered, much to his annoyance, that he was obliged to pass. He had almost succeeded in doing so unobserved, when one of the men shouted after him, and, approaching, gave him to understand that some of the privateer's crew had an idea of shipping in the Navy, and wanted some particulars from him; showing that his disguise had deceived them.
Barney invited the man to accompany him to Plymouth, walking away rapidly while he spoke; but, as Mr. Maclay puts it, the tar "seemed to think better of his plan of entering a navy noted for its cruelty to seamen," and accordingly turned back.
Barney now began to be very anxious about his safety. He was on the high road to Plymouth, where he might at any moment encounter a guard sent out to recapture him; so he jumped over a hedge into Lord Mount-Edgecumbe's grounds, where the gardener,pacified by a "tip," let him out by a private gate to the waterside—and none too soon, for, as he passed out, the guard sent to seek him tramped along on the other side of the hedge he had jumped over. A butcher, conveying some stock by water, took him across the river, and that night he found himself back at the old clergyman's house from which he had started. His two friends of the fishing-smack adventure here joined him once more, and while they were at supper the town-crier bawled under the window that five guineas reward would be paid for the capture of Joshua Barney, a rebel deserter from Mill Prison.
Three days later, dressed in fashionable attire, Barney stepped into a post-chaise at midnight and drove off for Exeter. He was stopped at the Plymouth gate, and a lantern thrust in to see if he corresponded with the description of himself which had been circulated. Apparently he did not, for he was permitted to proceed, and eventually passed on to Bristol and London, France, and Holland; whence he shipped on board the armed shipSouth Carolina, which he saved, by prompt measures and good seamanship, from being wrecked on the Dutch coast—her officers being, apparently, timid and incompetent.
Eventually, having transhipped on board theCicero, another American privateer, Barney reached Beverley, Massachusetts—the writer does not give the date, but it must have been in the autumn of 1781. At Boston, we are told, he met several of his fellow-prisoners who had also escaped from Mill Prison.
[15]There still remains the question of Byron's flagship. She was certainly thePrincess Royalwhen he arrived at New York; but as theArdent, 64, was one of the vessels of his squadron, it is, of course, possible that he may subsequently have hoisted his flag on her temporarily.
[15]There still remains the question of Byron's flagship. She was certainly thePrincess Royalwhen he arrived at New York; but as theArdent, 64, was one of the vessels of his squadron, it is, of course, possible that he may subsequently have hoisted his flag on her temporarily.
CAPTAINS BARNEY AND HARADEN
In April of the following year, 1782, Barney was again afloat in command of a privateer, theHyder Ali(speltHydeA llyin Mr. Maclay's book), fitted out, by merchants of Philadelphia, with sixteen 6-pounder guns and a crew of 110.
In this vessel he fought a remarkable and successful action against theGeneral Monk, a British man-of-war, of alleged superior force, though this is not borne out by British accounts. She was formerly theGeneral Washington, was captured by a British squadron in 1780, and renamed upon being added to the British Navy. She was commanded on this occasion by Commander Josias Rogers, an officer of great courage and resource, and was armed with sixteen 9-pounder carronades and two 6-pounders. A 9-pounder carronade was a foolish little piece, very short, and addicted to jumping violently and capsizing when it became at all hot: and it would be quite outranged by a long 6-or 9-pounder.
We are not told, either in the British or American account, the tonnage of the two vessels, but in the latter theGeneral Monkis described as being piercedfor twenty guns: and in the former theHyder Aliis said to have carried eighteen guns, 6-and 9-pounders (proportion of each not stated), while her crew is put down as 130 men.
Dropping down the river Delaware with several merchant vessels under convoy, Barney had reached Cape May Roads, just inside Delaware Bay, where he anchored, and was there discovered by a blockading squadron under Captain Mason, of theQuebecfrigate.
Sending Rogers in to reconnoitre, and, if possible, attack, Mason endeavoured to sail a little higher up the bay, to prevent the American vessels running for the Delaware River, while Rogers, engaging the assistance of theFair American, a privateer, went straight for the convoy. No sooner had he rounded Cape May, in sight of the Americans, than Barney, signalling his convoy to run for the river—theQuebecnot having yet got far enough up to head them off, on account of the shoal water—endeavoured to put his ship in the way of the pursuers. TheFair Americanran past him, with a broadside which was not returned, captured one vessel, chased another on shore, and then, in the endeavour to cut off three others, ran aground herself.
This cleared the field for a duel between theGeneral Monkand theHyder Ali, and they had a very pretty fight.
Barney, as theGeneral Monkcame on with the intention of boarding, delivered his broadside at pistol-range, and then frustrated the Englishman's plan of boarding by a ruse. Bidding the helmsmaninterpret his next order by "the rule of contrary," he shouted, as the vessels were on the point of fouling, "Hard a-port! Do you want him to run aboard us?"—the intention being that the order, distinctly audible on board the British vessel, should convey a false impression; for the helmsman, in accordance with the hint just received, put the helmhard a-starboard, the result being that the English vessel's jibboom became entangled in theHyder Ali'sfore-rigging. This is all very possible, and Barney was just the kind of man to have recourse to a ruse of this kind; but the relative positions of the ships at the moment are not technically described, so it is impossible to judge of the feasibility of the manœuvre, or of its efficacy. However, we are told that the Americans lashed the head-gear of theGeneral Monkto their rigging, and raked her with their fire, to which she could make no effective return.
Rogers called his men to board, but the American defensive measures were too strong, and they fell back. Then ensued a conflict chiefly with small-arms, and there are some little stories in connection with it. Barney, it appears, had among his crew a number of backwoodsmen, crack shots, but little accustomed to the amenities of discipline. One of these men kept on asking his captain, whenever he came within earshot, where the musket which he was using was made. Barney, annoyed by this freedom, ignored him for a time, then asked him sharply why he wanted to know. "W-a-a-l," drawled the backwoodsman, "this 'ere bit o' iron is jes' the best smoothbore I ever fired inmy life"—and he went on picking off the Britishers. Another drew Barney's attention to his next shot. "Say, Cap., do you see that fellow with the white hat?"—and in another moment the individual in the white hat leapt three feet in the air, and fell to rise no more. It was found, after the action, says the narrator, that every one of the Englishmen killed or wounded by musketry was struck either in the head or breast.
The Britishers, however, were not idle with their small-arms; Barney, jumping on the compass stand to see better what was going on, had his head shaved by a ball which perforated his hat. Another tore off part of his coat-tail. Upon this he ordered his Marine officer to direct his men's fire at the enemy's tops, andin a few minutes the tops were cleared.
Then a round-shot struck the binnacle, or compass stand, upon which Barney stood, and sent him flying. Just before this occurred he had had a vision of one of his officers, with the cook's axe uplifted, in act to floor a seaman who had got nervous, and was hiding behind the mainmast. The next moment Barney turned an involuntary somersault, and found the officer, who had dropped the cook's axe, standing over him in apprehension. Finding his captain unhurt—most of us would have been a good deal hurt under the circumstances, but perhaps Captain Barney came down on the spot, like a sixpence when a billiard-ball is knocked from under it—the stern officer resumed his murderous weapon, and made for the timid seaman again. But the latter had by this time realisedthat the cook's axe was a certainty and the enemy's fire a chance, so he returned to his quarters.
And so, with these little amenities, the fight went on; but it was a losing fight for the British. Rogers could not get his ship away. His guns—his stupid little carronades—were behaving in a fiendish manner, tumbling about and shooting anywhere except in the right direction; and his men were falling fast. His masts and rigging were so damaged that he could not handle the sails, and he was at length compelled to yield, himself severely wounded and many of his officers and men dead and dying around him; and so theGeneral Monkchanged hands again, and became once more theGeneral Washington.
Captain Barney, without doubt, fought his craft with immense pluck and dexterity, and thoroughly deserved the victory; but it is extremely doubtful whether the superiority of force was not on his side. Neither account gives the tonnage of the two vessels. Robert Beatson, a good authority, gives theGeneral Monk'sarmament as above described, and gives also a very different account of the action, ascribing Rogers's defeat chiefly to the inefficiency of his guns. He says, at the commencement, that theHyder Ali"cut her boat adrift, and did everything else to get away,notwithstanding her superior force." The reader can take his choice.
This ends Joshua Barney's career as a privateer during this war. He was placed in command of theGeneral Washington, and subsequently visiting Plymouth, he entertained on board his ship the friendswho had aided his escape and a number of British officers, and bestowed a purse of gold upon Lord Mount-Edgecumbe's gardener, who had so opportunely opened the little gate for him.
There are other privateer heroes of this period who richly deserve notice, but space does not admit of a detailed account of their doings.
There was Jonathan Haraden, of Salem, for instance, conspicuous by his seamanlike skill and marvellous coolness under fire, as well as by his bold tactics in the presence of a superior force.
It is related that, upon a dark night in the Bay of Biscay, being then in command of the privateerGeneral Pickering, of 180 tons and 16 guns, he came across the British privateerGolden Eagle, of 22 guns—as was afterwards discovered. Haraden was not aware of her name and force when he sighted her—at no great distance, of course; but, having neared her, as is stated, unobserved, he concluded that she was a vessel of superior force to his own. In the words of the narrator, "having formed a fairly accurate idea of her force," he resolved to have recourse to a ruse—it was a very foolhardy proceeding, but it was justified by success. Running up alongside the English vessel, he hailed the captain while the two ships, at close quarters, plunged along together. "This is an American frigate of the largest class; if you don't surrender immediately, I'll blow you out of the water!"
Now, Haraden's craft was of 180 tons, and an American frigate of the largest class at that time—the year 1780—would be at least 800 tons; the twovessels were close together, and we have seen that the American captain had, some time previously, been able to estimate the size and probable strength of the other; so what was the use of shouting such a fable to the Britisher? Any seaman of moderate experience would ridicule the idea of mistaking a vessel of 180 tons, close alongside, even at night, for a first-class frigate, with her comparatively large hull and immense, towering spars. Some of the English privateer captains whom we have been discussing would have had a very short reply for Haraden—"Frigate, be d——d!" and a broadside; and it was really very lucky for the American that he had dropped upon a "soft thing" in finding a British skipper so extremely unsophisticated as to be deceived for a moment. However, the captain of theGolden Eaglechanced to be the one man in a thousand who would be so taken in, and he hauled down his colours without firing a shot! Had he been a naval officer, he would have had to answer at a court-martial for his conduct, and it is impossible to imagine any punishment for such an offence, short of death. However, nothing succeeds like success; Haraden—according to the story, as narrated by Mr. Maclay—made good his piece of "bounce," and took possession; and the most appropriate comment appears to be that each captain got what he deserved.
Shortly afterwards Captain Haraden engaged a privateer—theAchilles—of vastly superior force, off Bilbao, so close in shore that the Spaniards crowded the headlands in hundreds to see the fun. Haraden,by superior seamanship, succeeded in beating off his big antagonist and in recovering theGolden Eagle, which the enemy had recaptured but could not hold, and which had on board an officer and prize crew from theAchilles. So the balance was in the American's favour.
An onlooker—one Robert Cowan—is reported to have said that theGeneral Pickeringlooked like a longboat in comparison with theAchilles, and that "Haraden fought with a determination that seemed superhuman; and, although in the most exposed positions, where the shot flew around him, he was all the while as calm and steady as amid a shower of snowflakes."
Another of Captain Haraden's exploits was the capture of "a homeward-bound king's packet from one of the West India islands," under very dramatic circumstances, the American captain, his watch in one hand and a lighted match in the other, with only a single round of ammunition remaining, giving the battered Britisher five minutes in which to surrender. But surely some less vague relation is due before such a story can be accepted—the name of the packet, her force, the date, latitude and longitude, and so forth.
However, Captain Haraden was, no doubt, a fair specimen of a very fine class—the Salem skippers—and Americans have every cause for being proud of him.
CAPTAIN THOMAS BOYLE
Upon the declaration of war with England in 1812 Americans naturally inaugurated at once a vigorous privateering campaign.
War was declared on June 18th, and by the end of the month two privateers had put out from Salem, and a dozen more were almost ready for sea; while New York had sent out, by the middle of October, twenty-six vessels, mounting some three hundred guns, and manned by more than two thousand men.
On July 10th occurred a curious episode, quite impossible in these days, when the earth is tied up in every direction with telegraph cables. The British man-of-war schoonerWhitingwas lying in Hampton Roads; her commander, Lieutenant Maxey, ignorant of the declaration of war, was in his boat, going on shore, when the American privateerDash, Captain Carroway, arrived upon the scene. Carroway, better informed, seized the English commander and his boat, and, running alongside theWhiting, called upon the officer in charge to surrender—which he did.
The American Government, however, in view of the English captain's ignorance of the commencementof hostilities, ordered theWhitingto be returned. A similar incident is said to have occurred in the case of theBloodhound, an English sloop of 12 guns, captured by the 8-gun privateer schoonerCora. Neither of these events is chronicled by British naval historians.
One of the most daring and skilful privateer captains during this war was Thomas Boyle. His first command was theComet, a staunch, fast-sailing schooner, and he lost no time in getting to work, starting upon his first cruise in July 1812, within a month of the declaration of war.
Returning in November, after capturing several vessels, he refitted his craft and prepared to set forth again. There was more difficulty, however, in getting out upon this occasion, as the English had a strong squadron blockading Chesapeake Bay.
Waiting for a dark, squally night, Boyle made his venture on December 23rd, and all went well until near daybreak, when he suddenly found himself under the guns of a frigate, which let drive a broadside at him. TheCometsustained but little damage, however, and got clear away, heading for the coast of Brazil, where Boyle learned that some English vessels were about to sail from Pernambuco.
This information proved to be correct, and on January 14th they were discovered, standing out to sea—three brigs and a ship—i.e.a larger vessel full-rigged. Boyle was prepared to find the merchant vessels armed, but did not reckon upon a very obstinate resistance from them. He stood out to sea, so as to be able easily to get between the English vesselsand the coast; and about three o'clock he put his helm up and gave chase. The fast schooner soon neared the other ships; and then Boyle discovered that he was in for a more exciting adventure than he had anticipated, for one of the brigs was obviously a man-of-war, of formidable strength, though he had been informed that there were no British war-vessels in the neighbourhood.
However, he put a bold face on, cleared for action, and steered for the cruiser, hoisting his colours as he came abreast of her. She replied with Portuguese colours, and hailed that she would send a boat on board. Boyle, distrustful, but wishing to ascertain the real nationality of the stranger, hove to and awaited her boat; for he did not see what a Portuguese man-of-war had to do with convoying British vessels. Well, nobody else can see it, either; but she turned out to be a genuine Portuguese, and the officer gave Boyle a great idea of her force, telling him that the merchantmen were under his charge, and must not be molested.
Boyle, producing his commission from the American Government, replied:
"This is an American cruiser, here are my papers, and I am going to take these English vessels if I can. I don't recognise your right to interfere, and I shall fire upon you if you do."
To this plain statement of the case the Portuguese officer replied that his ship had orders to protect the merchantmen, and that he would be very sorry if anything disagreeable occurred.
"Oh, so shall I," said Boyle; "very sorry; but if you oppose me, I shall fire into you."
The Portuguese officer returned to report to his captain, promising to come back presently. This, however, he did not do. It was by this time quite dark, and Boyle, hailing to know when he might expect the boat, was asked to send his boat; but he did not quite like this plan—indeed, it was highly suspicious; so he replied that he did not care about sending his boat away in the dark.
"And now I'm going to take those English vessels."
Accordingly, he "let draw" his sails, and was soon among them, hailing the ship to heave-to as he romped past her, having great way on the schooner. Finding no attention paid to his demand, he tacked and came alongside the ship, and opened fire upon her and one of the brigs—the man-of-war being close on his heels, and speedily joining in the fray.
All five vessels, under a press of sail, were now running together in a ruck, theComet, from her superior sailing qualities, being compelled to tack and manœuvre to maintain her position. There was a bright moon, but presently the smoke from the guns accumulated in a great cloud, obscuring the view, so it was difficult to tell one vessel from another. This was quite an agreeable arrangement for Captain Boyle, as he could make no mistake, while the others were in constant dread of hitting a friend—and probably did so occasionally.
This running fight lasted until nearly midnight. The Portuguese fired away whenever he could do so withoutrisk of hitting his convoy, but made wretched practice, while Boyle took but little notice of him, sticking to his prey tenaciously, until the ship and one brig surrendered, much cut up; but theComet'sboat, going to take possession, was struck by a broadside from the Portuguese, and returned, almost sinking. Then the privateer and the man-of-war had a set-to alone, the latter eventually sheering off, but hovering near, evidently watching for a chance.
Boyle, however, managed to send a prize crew on board the brig. The captain of the ship hailed that he was severely damaged, almost sinking, and his rigging cut to pieces; but he would endeavour to follow, as ordered, if he could get his ship under command.
Standing by his prize until daybreak, Boyle saw the war-brig again bearing down upon him; he immediately tacked and went to meet her. But the Portuguese had apparently had enough of it; she managed to take the ship and one brig with her into Pernambuco, the two merchantmen in an almost sinking condition, masts tottering, sails cut to pieces, leaving Boyle with his one prize—a rich one. It was altogether an extraordinary affair, for theCometonly carried 14 guns and about 120 men; and the Portuguese brig, seen afterwards by some Americans at Lisbon, was found to be a very formidable vessel, heavily armed. Why she was convoying British vessels, Portugal not being at war with America, does not appear to have been explained. Her name is not given.
This incident affords a good indication of the character of Thomas Boyle; he found theCometso superiorin speed, as a rule, to any vessel, small or great, which he encountered that he used sometimes to sail round a ship of superior force, just out of range of her guns—thereby vastly amusing himself and his crew, and greatly annoying the other man. By pursuing these tactics upon one occasion, he secured the retreat of a prize, keeping a British man-of-war brig engaged in trying to catch him, while the prize got safely away.
TheCometmade seven-and-twenty prizes; and Captain Boyle was then placed in command of theChasseur, a more formidable vessel, mounting sixteen long 12-pounders. She is said to have been one of the fastest and most beautiful vessels afloat, and in her Boyle had a most successful career. The last and most important action he fought was with the British man-of-war schoonerSt. Lawrence, of 13 guns—an American-built vessel, formerly theAtlas, privateer, and captured by the British in July 1813.
This was on February 26th, 1815, off the coast of Cuba, when Boyle, about 11 a.m., gave chase to a schooner apparently running before the wind. She was discovered to be a man-of-war, with a convoy, just visible from aloft, as was imagined, in company. TheChasseurgained, though not very fast, and the stranger presently hauled nearer to the wind, apparently anxious to escape. At 12.30 Boyle showed his colours and fired a gun, but the other made no sign, continuing her efforts to escape, and losing her foretopmast through the press of sail she carried. TheChasseurnow came up rapidly, and at one o'clock the chase fired a gun and hoisted English colours.
Watching her narrowly, Boyle made out only three gun-ports on one side, and there appeared to be very few people on deck. So he cracked on his canvas, anxious to get alongside and make short work of her; and, not anticipating serious fighting, made no great preparations for action.
When, however, he ran up within pistol-shot, about half-past one, a sudden change came over the English vessel—port-covers were triced up, showing her full armament, with a crowd of men at quarters, who gave three cheers and promptly put in a broadside. Boyle had been caught napping for once.
He and his men did not take long, however, to recover themselves. TheChasseurat this time had only 14 guns on board, according to American accounts, having sacrificed some on a former occasion in escaping from a British frigate. She is put down in Sir W. Laird Clowes's "Royal Navy" as carrying 24 guns. This, however, is an error.
However this may be, Boyle got to work, hammer and tongs; came to close quarters, ran his foe aboard, and, in a quarter of an hour from the first shot, the Englishman surrendered!
The equality of the two vessels, or rather, to be precise, the slight preponderance of force in theChasseur'sfavour, is dwelt upon in detail by Mr. Maclay (page 296). "Here," he says, "we have an admirable opportunity to compare the relative merits of American and British man-of-warsmen; for theSt. Lawrence, being built and equipped by Americans, deprives our friends, the English, of their oft-repeatedcry that our vessels were better built, etc. TheChasseurcarried 14 guns and 102 men as opposed to theSt. Lawrence's13 guns and 76 men. Both vessels were schooners."
In view of the categorical statement which ends this paragraph, Mr. Maclay would have done well to take into consideration the illustration of the action which appears opposite page 298, a replica of that in Mr. Coggleshall's book, in which the American vessel is clearly a brig. One does not, of course, place much reliance upon details in illustrations of this class, as proving or disproving important statements, and the draftsman has represented the British schooner "all on end" aloft, whereas she had lost her foretopmast before the action commenced. But what says Mr. Coggleshall? "TheChasseurwas a fine, large brig" (page 367); and he was a seaman, so he took care that his illustration should be technically correct and in agreement with the text, with regard, at least, to the rig of the vessels.
This discrepancy naturally arouses some suspicion as to other details, and a perusal of the minutes of the court-martial upon Lieutenant James Edward (notHenry Cranmer) Gordon,[16]held at Bermuda, April 21st, 1815, throws considerable light upon the matter.
Lieutenant Gordon describes theChasseuras a large brig, registering upwards of 400 tons, British measurement, and much superior to our 18-gun brigs. Making every allowance for unconscious exaggeration on the part of an officer upon his defence, this description accords with that of the American seaman, Coggleshall. Gordon further states that he had on board 52 seamen and officers, 6 passengers, and 6 boys, total 64, which was 12 short of his complement. Compare Captain Boyle's statement, in his letter to one of the owners, that theSt. Lawrencehad on board "a number of soldiers, marines, and some gentlemen of the navy, passengers"; in another place "eighty-nine men, beside several boys." The crew of theChasseur, according to the evidence of some officers of theSt. Lawrence, admitted in conversation that they had 119 on board, though some were away in prizes.
The officers of theSt. Lawrence, on their oath, state that there were 48 men at quarters, and that the long 9-pounder was not in action,as they had not the men to man it.
There is no mention, either in Gordon's letter or the evidence, of any attempt to disguise the force of the schooner. She had no convoy with her, and simply tried to get away on account of the important despatches, which were weighted and thrown overboard before surrender.
Gordon and his officers were honourably acquitted, the court being satisfied that they had done their best against heavy odds, handicapped as they were by the loss of the foretopmast. The duration of the action is stated as half an hour, or more, by the schooner's officers; this, however, is not of very much importance.
Captain Boyle was, no doubt, a very brave man and a fine seaman, and the capture of a regular British war-vessel was a great feather in his cap; but it is really no very extraordinary feat for a large brig to take a schooner, fighting two guns less, and with a crew, including boys, in a minority of about forty—accepting the American statement as to theChasseur'screw—and partially crippled aloft.
Captain Boyle, rendered more and more bold and enterprising by success, sent a "Proclamation of Blockade" of the British coast to be posted in Lloyd's Coffee House. This was a joke, said to be in imitation of the farcical "paper" blockades of the American coasts issued by British admirals, when they had not the ships present to enforce it. The British blockade, however, was no farce as a whole, as American writers testify.