Carefully he lowered away.
"Carefully he lowered away."
"Come out of that, you fool!" somebody shouted at him from below; but he did not pause. A round shot whizzed by his elbow. A musket-ball carried away a ratline above his head, just as he reached forward. He felt as if a hot flame had licked across his shoulder, and in an instant more his white shirt was white no longer, and was clinging to his back. But it was nothing but a graze, and, undaunted, he kept on ascending. He hauled himself into the top. There lay a dead marine, shot through the temple. Now he bent over the prostrate sailor. Yes, he was alive! Roberts was breathing faintly. Despite the interest and excitement of the action men were watching him from below. But he must work fast if he was to save a life—a bullet at any time might complete the work already begun. He tried to lift the heavy figure on to his shoulders, but found he could not. But good fortune! One of the halliards had been shot away aloft, and hung dangling across the yard. McGovern saw the opportunity. Passing the bitter end of it around Roberts' body, close underneath the arms, he made it fast. Then passing the rest of it through the shrouds he gave first a heave that swung the prostrate figure clear of the blood-stained top, and then carefully he lowered away until at last the body reached the deck.
Somehow the musket-balls had stopped their humming through the upper rigging, and even the firing of theWasphad slackened, as McGovern, reaching for one of the stays, rode down it safely and reached the deck. And now occurred a thing that has been unchronicled, and yet has had its parallel in many instances of history. A cheer arose, a strong, manly cheer,—it came from across the water; it preceded by an instant the roaring of the hoarse voices close about him. But McGovern's ear had caught it.
"Hark!" he cried, pushing his way forward to reach his station. "Hark, they're cheerin'! They must have thought we've struck. We'll show 'em!" He picked up his sponge again.
Now the firing became incessant. Steadily as the blows of a hammer were delivered the telling shots from theWasp'sport divisions. The flames of powder scorched the enemy's bows. All at once there came a crash. The jibboom of the Englishman swept across the deck, tearing away the shrouds and braces, and then with a heave and a lurch the vessels came together, grinding and crunching with a sound of splintering and tearing of timbers as they rolled in the heavy sea.
There was not a man on board theWaspthat did not expect to see the English sailors come swarming over the bow of their vessel, and drop down to fight in the old-fashioned way, hand to hand and eye to eye. But there must have been some delay. For an instant there was a silence except for the ripping of the Englishman's bow against theWasp'squarter. But the red-crossed flag was still flying.
Captain Jones saw his opportunity. The enemy lay in so fair a position to be raked that some of theWasp'sguns extended through her bow ports. The men, who, without waiting for orders had caught up cutlasses and boarding-pikes, were ordered back to their stations, and at such close quarters the broadside that followed shattered the enemy's topsides as might an explosion on her 'tween decks. Two guns of the after division, loaded with round and grape, swept her full length.
But some of the more impetuous of the crew had not heard, or perhaps had not heeded the order to return to their stations. Jack Lange had made a great leap of it, and had caught the edge of the Englishman's netting. As an acrobat twists himself to circle his trapeze, he swung himself by sheer strength on to the bowsprit, and gaining his feet, he stood there an instant, then he jumped over the bulwarks on to the enemy's deck and disappeared. The handful of men who had sought to follow his leadership had all failed their object, for a slant of the wind had hove the two vessels so far apart that they were almost clear of the tangle of shrouds and top-hamper that had made them fast. But one man had made a spring of it and had caught the bight of one of the downhauls that was hanging free. Hand over hand he hauled himself up to the nettings, and after considerable difficulty—for he was all but exhausted—he succeeded in getting his body half-way across the bulwarks, and then with a lurch he disappeared. During all this, not a shot had been fired. Every one had watched with anxiety the strange boarding party of two. What would be the outcome of it? Suddenly, as the sails that had been tearing and flapping, filled, and the noise subsided, a strange sound came down from the direction of the other vessel. It was like a great chorused groan—the mingling of many voices in a note of agony! Then with a crash they met again, the English ship fouling hard and fast in theWasp'smizzen rigging. Lieutenant Biddle, followed by a score of armed boarders, jumped upon the bulwarks and endeavored to reach the other vessel and be the first on board. In this he would have succeeded had not little Midshipman Baker caught his officers coat-tails and endeavored to emulate his eagerness. But at last the Lieutenant and his followers gained the deck, there to be witness of a wonderful sight.
There was a wounded man limply leaning against the wheel. Three officers were huddled near the taffrail—but one was able to stand upon his feet; the other two were badly wounded. Jack Lange and McGovern the Coward had possession of the ship. But somehow, overcome by the sight, they had not left the forecastle, and it was Lieutenant Biddle's own hand that lowered away the flag.
His Majesty's sloop of warFrolicwas a prize. Frightful had been the carnage! But twenty of the English crew were fit for duty. She was a charnel ship. TheWasphad lost but five men killed, and but five men wounded. Among the latter was Bill Roberts. Although he was shot three times, the surgeon declared that he would live.
To and fro the boats plied busily. TheFrolic'smasts fell shortly after she had been boarded, and now every effort was made to repair damages and take care of the many wounded and the dying.
Every one talked about McGovern, he who had been the Coward; he who had cringed to the loblolly boys, and who had taken orders from the ward-room steward; who had washed dishes and dodged blows;hewas the hero of the day. And how did he take all this new glory, the admiring glances and the remarks of his messmates? Not as a vainglorious seeker of reputation, not as a careless daredevil who had risked recklessly his life for the mere excitement; but as a cool-headed, brave-hearted man, who while there was yet work to do found no time to think of what had been done. He was reincarnate, as if during the fire and smoke, when the hand of death was everywhere, the spirit to do, and dare, had been born within him. Forgotten had been the red scars of the disgracing cat that seared his back. Here was his chance to show what was in him; to even up matters with the power that had almost crushed his soul. Every shot from theWasp'sside made his heart beat with joy. The born fighter had been awakened. He craved for more, and animated by this feeling he went about his work with a half-delirious strength that made him accomplish the task of two men. All eyes were on him. His officers had marked him.
"Sail ho!" called down one of the men who was clearing away the wreckage aloft. "Sail ho! off the starboard bow."
Driven by the strong breeze that had blown throughout the morning a great sail was bearing down, looming larger and larger every minute. TheWaspcleared for action. TheFrolic, aided by the little jury masts that had been hastily rigged, was ordered to bear away to the southward before the wind. TheWasp, wounded and bedraggled as she was, bore up to meet the oncomer.
Slowly the great shape rose out of the water, sail by sail. A tier of guns! another! and a third!—a seventy-four! With two ridges of white foam playing out from her broad bow, she bowled along and passed so close that her great yard arms almost overshadowed the little wounded sloop. There came the sound of a single gun, and at this imperious order theWasp'sflag fluttered to the deck. It had not needed this sight of the red cross curling and uncurling across the white expanse of new sail to mark her as one of the great guard ships of old England. English she was from truck to keelson, and long before she fired that disdainful shot the gunners of theWasphad put out their smoking matches.
And McGovern had watched her come with an ever-changing expression in his eyes. His face, flushed with excitement and victory, had paled. Once he had started as if to run below and hide. There was something familiar in those towering masts and that gleaming white figurehead, and as she sailed on to retake the littleFrolic, McGovern was compelled to hold fast to the bitts to prevent himself from falling. The ports were crowded with jeering faces. The quarter-deck rail was lined with laughing officers, in cocked hats and white knee-breeches. Under her stern gallery he read the wordPoictiers! From that he glanced up at the main yard arm. Men had swung there at the end of a rope—yes, he had once seen a convulsive, struggling figure black against the sky. Men would swing there again! The maxim that 'a deserter has no defence' recurred to him. He glanced about. Close by was a chain-shot, two nine-pound solid shot connected by a foot of heavy links. Like one afraid of being seen, he skulked across the deck as he had skulked in the days before. He reached the side where part of the bulwarks had been torn away, and crouching there he passed the end of his heavy belt through a link of the chain, and without a sound lurched forward, all huddled up, and struck sideways in the water.
THE SCAPEGOAT
It was a famous dinner party that Captain William Bainbridge, Commander of the Charlestown Navy Yard, gave on the night of the 31st of May, 1813. In those days gentlemen sat long at a table; they knew good wines when they tasted them, and if they drank a great deal at a sitting, they sipped slowly.
The cloth had been removed, and upon the shining mahogany rested two or three cut-glass decanters filled with the best Madeira. Captain Bainbridge sat at the head of the table, in a high-backed oaken chair; he was dressed in a blue uniform coat, with the gold-braided lapels thrown back over his wide chest. In his snow-white shirt frill there nestled a sparkling jewel given to him by the Sultan of Turkey, upon the occasion when Bainbridge had brought the old frigateGeorge Washingtoninto the harbor of Constantinople and there for the first time displayed the flag of the United States.
The candles had burned low in the candelabra, a silence had fallen upon the company; it was evident that something had interrupted the easy flow of wit and conversation. Captain James Lawrence, the guest of the evening, was in full uniform, with epaulets and great gold buttons as big as half-dollars. He sat opposite Captain Bainbridge, with both elbows on the table, cracking walnuts and eating them as if to stave off hunger; his face was flushed, and a frown was on his brow. A young man of not more than twenty, with a gleaming mass of gold braid on his left shoulder, the mark of the lieutenant, had the next seat to him; he was nervously drumming on the table with his finger-nails. Occasionally he would glance from Lawrence to Bainbridge, and then at the two other officers who were sitting there in constrained silence.
Well did they all know how easy it was for the word to be spoken that would fire the smouldering mine, and change what had been a jovial gathering to the prologue of a tragedy. Men had to be careful how they spoke in those days. There could never be any brawling or careless flying of words; courtesy and gallantry limited their power of personal offence; but epithets or implications once given expression could not easily be withdrawn. Men who had been friends and who had fought for the same cause would, with the stilted hat-tipping and snuff-offering fashion of the time, meet one another in the gray of morning under God's sky and do one another to the death.
At last Lawrence spoke.
"Are you not judging me harshly in this matter, sir?" he said. "You say you doubt my caution." His gaze shifted from the brilliant jewel in Bainbridge's breast to the frank, manly face above.
"Your caution; yes, Captain," was the return; "your courage, my dear sir, never."
Lawrence cracked another walnut with a loud report. "Surely in my little affair with thePeacockyou have granted that I used judgment; and in regard to the distribution of prize money, which has not seemed to suit our mutual views——"
Bainbridge interrupted him. "That is a question apart from our present discussion, sir," he said. "I pray that you will postpone it. But I can only say for the benefit of all concerned that I do not doubt an easy adjustment. For what you decide must perforce be agreeable to me."
"You are my senior——"
"And for that reason I have taken the opportunity, as you have brought up the subject, to express my opinions. I cannot order you; it is outside my province or my wish. Before the company you have brought up this matter, and for that reason I have discussed it. Every one must agree that the Department authorities at Washington have treated you most unhandsomely. Had you been given the command of theConstitution, as was first intended and promised you, and were she in a condition to put to sea, I should say nothing but what would encourage you to exercise despatch."
"Ah, if I but had theConstitutionand her crew," put in Lawrence, with a sigh; "if I but had them." Suddenly he brought his strong, clenched fist down upon the table with a crash: "Then this English captain would not be flaunting his flag at the harbor mouth, daring me to come on and fight him; shaming us all here where we lie at anchor! TheChesapeakeis ready!"
"Ah, but she is theChesapeake," interrupted Bainbridge.
"True enough; but why not give me the chance to wipe the stain from off her name?" He suddenly arose, and leaning across the table spoke quickly and vehemently. "Order two hundred of theConstitution'smen on board of her, and I will sail out and give battle to-morrow! I doubt not, nor do I fear the consequences. I ask this of you as a proof of friendship."
In his excitement, Lawrence upset one of the tall wine-glasses. It tinkled musically, and, reaching forward, he filled it to the brim, and Bainbridge waited until this had been done.
"I cannot grant your request, Captain Lawrence," he said quietly at last. "Your ship is in no condition to go out and fight at the moment. She has a green crew. Her running-gear has not been tested."
"Then let me go into the yard and call for volunteers!" Lawrence interrupted hotly.
"I cannot prevent you taking men who are not busily employed; but I shall not order men from work. 'Twould be sanctioning your action."
The mine was on the point of being fired; the fatal word was trembling on Lawrence's lips. The boy lieutenant half rose from his chair; but Lawrence controlled himself with an effort. He may have realized how senseless it would have been to impute to William Bainbridge lack of courage. He may have thought of the wicked consequence of such a speech. But he was obstinate. His nature was not one to be thwarted easily. Throwing back his shoulders and looking around the table, he raised the brimming wine-glass to his lips.
"Then, here's to the success of theChesapeake!" he blurted, and drained it to the bottom. "I shall go out and fight this fellow to-morrow," he added sullenly. "You gentlemen," turning to the others, who were all officers of his luckless ship, "shall share with me the honor." Turning, he walked to the side of the room and picked up his cloak and heavy bullion-edged cocked hat.
"Sir, to you good evening."
Bainbridge was about to speak; but on second thought he remained silent and bowed slowly. Without a word Lawrence, followed by three of his officers, left the room. The young Lieutenant lingered. His face had flushed when his captain had spoken the word "glory," and yet the calm, dispassionate judgment of Bainbridge had appealed to him. He was a beautiful lad, this officer, with long-lashed eyes like those of a young girl. His light brown hair curled softly over his white forehead. One would expect nothing but laughter and song from those lips, and it needed the strong, square-cut jaw to give the note of decision and character to his face. It redeemed it from being too classical; too beautifully feminine. He loved James Lawrence, his commander, and truly a boy's love for a man who excites his admiration is much like a woman's in its tenderness and devotion. Lawrence had been a father to him, or better, an elder brother, for theChesapeake'scommander was but thirty-two years of age.
Young William Cox had been much at Captain Bainbridge's house since theChesapeakehad dropped her anchor in the Charles River, and the Commandant had watched with approval the mutual attraction that existed between the young officer and the beautiful Miss Hyleger, who was the sister of Bainbridge's wife. He probably knew what was going through the young man's mind. As he followed after the others Bainbridge stopped him.
"Good night, James; may God watch over you. You will do your duty; of that I am well assured."
"Thank you, sir," the lad returned, flushing as he took Bainbridge's hand in both of his.
When left alone, the Commodore sat there in his great armchair, and on his face was a great shadow of sorrow.
Lawrence did not go on board his ship that night; but Lieutenant Ludlow, Mr. White, the sailing-master, and Lieutenants Cox and Ballard repaired on board at once to make ready for the approaching conflict. All night long James Lawrence walked alone under the trees in the river park, and at early dawn, still dressed in his resplendent uniform, with his silk stockings and white knee-breeches, he made his appearance at the Navy Yard. Some sixty men responded to his call. But the older sailors wagged their heads. It was not necessary. Ah, that was it! Had it been a case of do or die, there was not a man who would not have thrown down his work and jumped at the chance to fight. But theChesapeake! she was an unlucky vessel. Sailors avoided her. Her crew was riffraff in a measure; men not wanted on other ships; many of foreign birth; Portuguese and Spaniards; a few Danes, and without doubt some renegade servants of King George.
As the morning mist cleared away from the water, there in the offing was the English frigate that had been hovering and flaunting her challenging flag for the past three days.... Boston was all agog with the news. The whole city had flocked to the water front. Before nine o'clock theChesapeakewas surrounded by a flotilla of small craft. Men cheered themselves hoarse. Flags floated from the buildings, and women waved handkerchiefs from the docks. But yet, some of the wise ones wagged their heads.
The bulwarks and top sides of theChesapeakehad been freshly painted, and the paint was not yet dry. As her crew stretched out the new yellow hempen running-gear, they smudged everything with the pigment. There was no time to be careful; it was a hurly-burly haste on every hand. The officers were reading the lists of the men at the guns. They did not know them by name or sight, and were trying to impress their faces on their minds at this short notice. There was bawling and hauling and shouting and confusion. How different from the clockwork methods on board theConstitution! But at last everything was as ready as it could be. Lawrence, after his sleepless night, pale but nerved to tension by excitement, came from the cabin. As he looked down the deck, his spirits must have sunk. Things were not shipshape—at this very instant he may have regretted that he had formed the decision to go out and fight. But it was too late to withdraw! He gave the orders, and, to the tune of Yankee Doodle, they began getting in the anchor. The pilot was on board, standing beside the helmsman. Lawrence went back to his cabin and wrote a letter that has only recently been given to the public. It was addressed to James Cox, the uncle of young Lieutenant Cox, of his own ship. The whole tone of the missive displays the despondent attitude of mind under which Lawrence was now laboring. The postscript that he added, after referring to the possibility of his untimely end, reads as follows:—
"10a.m.The frigate is in plain sight from our decks, and we are now getting under way."
It was the last sentence he ever penned. As soon as he had sealed the letter he came on deck and delivered it to the pilot, who left the ship within half an hour.
Now came the ordeal. The small boats that had surrounded the vessel were being left behind as she gained headway. But some of the faster sailers among them managed to keep pace, and cheer after cheer sounded. A crew of rowers in a whaleboat kept abreast of theChesapeake'sbows, shouting words of encouragement to the crew. But the men did not appear eager. The officers could not help but notice it, and the impression must have been most heart breaking.
"Muster the crew," Lawrence ordered at last, turning to young Ludlow; "I will say a few words to them." The men gathered in the waist, whispering and talking among themselves.
"James," said Lawrence, to Lieutenant Cox, before he began to make the customary address that a ship's captain in those days made before going into action,—"James, I know that I can trust you—you will do your duty." The young man at his side touched his cap. "You will find me here, sir," he replied, "unless my duty is elsewhere." Lawrence stepped a few feet forward.
"Men of theChesapeake," said he, "it is our good fortune to be able to answer the call that our country has made upon our honor. We will answer it with our lives if necessary. Do your duty; fight well and nobly. Your country's eyes are on you, and in her heart she thanks you in advance. Yonder British frigate must return under our lee. Let no shots be wasted. To your stations."
There was some low grumbling off to one side of the deck. A black-visaged, shifty-eyed fellow came pushing to the front. A double allowance of grog had been already served; but many of the men had been imbibing freely, owing to the proximity of the shore and the ease with which liquor could be obtained. The man strode out before the crowd and stopped within a few paces of the Captain. He spoke in broken English. Lawrence listened in anger and almost in despair. The man complained in insolent tones that he and his messmates had not been paid some prize money due them now a long time. Lawrence's hand sought the hilt of his sword. He would have run the fellow through as he well deserved, did he not see that among the crew he numbered many followers. Their surly looks and gestures proved their evil temper.The man declared that unless he and thirty of the others were paid at once they would decline to fight.
Here was mutiny at the outset! A fine state of affairs to exist on board a vessel going to fight a battle.... There was nothing for it but to acquiesce. He could not treat the cur as he deserved.
"Take these men to the cabin and pay them what they say is due them," said Lawrence, bitterly. There was not money enough on board the ship, and he was forced to go to the cabin himself, and sign due bills for the amount. And all this time the enemy was in the offing prepared and eager.
The English frigate hauled her wind and put out to sea as she saw theChesapeakeapproach. Her flag was flying, and now Lawrence unfurled his. At the main and mizzen and at the peak he flew the Stars and Stripes, while at the fore he displayed the motto flag: "Free trade and sailors' rights." On the two vessels sailed over the bright, sunlit sea. The day was almost without a cloud. One or two small sailing vessels still followed in theChesapeake'swake. At fourp.m.she fired a challenging gun.
There were no seamen of the good old school that could not if they had seen the English ship but admire her. With calm precision theShannon—for it was well known who she was—braced back her maintopsails and hove to. In silence the two manœuvred. At every point the English vessel had the better of it. Which would fire first? There was one moment when theChesapeakehad the advantage. Owing to her clumsiness more than to her agility, she came about within pistol-shot distance under the enemy's stern. But her commander held his fire. A minute more and they were on even terms, sailing in dead silence beside one another, nearing all the time—who would have thought that they were craving each other's blood? The orders on board one ship could be heard on board the other. The word "Ready" was passed at the same moment; but the discharge of the Englishman's broadside preceded that of theChesapeakeby a perceptible moment. How well those guns must have been trained! Every one was double shotted and heavily charged. TheChesapeakequivered from the shock. In that second, in the time it takes a man to catch his breath, the whole aspect of affairs had changed. Mr. White, the sailing-master, was immediately killed; Mr. Ballard, the Fourth Lieutenant, was mortally wounded. Ten sailors fell dead to the decks. Twenty-three were badly hurt. The bulwarks were crushed in, and the cabin was torn to pieces.
"Steady!" roared Lawrence. "Steady, boys, have at them!"
There was a marine with a musket in one of the Englishman's tops. He was aiming at the resplendent figure in gold epaulets, carefully as one aims at a target, and at last he pulled the trigger. Lawrence fell down on one knee; but leaning against the companionway, he pulled himself erect again. Not an expression or exclamation came from him; but his white knee breeches were streaked and stained with red. Nearer yet the two ships drifted. Their crashing broadsides scorched each other. The Englishmen cheered, and the Yankees answered them—the volunteers from the Charlestown yard were giving a good account of themselves. But several times theChesapeakeyawed and fell off her course as if she had lost her head, like a man dizzy from a blow that deadens the brain. And good reason why: three men in succession were shot away from her wheel. The expert riflemen placed in theShannon'smizzentop were doing their work well. A puff of wind took the American all aback, she fell off and swung about. Her anchor caught in theShannon'safter port. And now not a gun could be brought to bear! Whole gun's crews left their places and plunged down the companionway to the deck below. But theShannonwas taking advantage of her opportunity. Charges of grape and canister raked and swept the decks.
Lawrence looked in despair at the frightful havoc. He knew what now would happen. Every minute he expected to see the English boarders come tumbling on board. Lieutenant Cox had been sent below to take charge of the second division. Lawrence looked for an officer. The only one in sight was Lieutenant Ludlow. Had it not been for his uniform no one would have known him. He was blood and wounds from head to foot. He could not stand erect, and was dragging himself about the deck, one useless leg trailing behind him.
"The bugler! call the bugler!" thundered Lawrence. "To repel boarders on the spar-deck! Where is the after-guard?"
Ludlow fell, better than clambered, down the main-hatch. "Pass the word for the bugler!" he cried. "Boarders away!" But the bugler could not be found. And good reason why. He was down in the deep hold hiding amid the stores. Young Lieutenant Cox heard the order. "Boarders away!" he shouted. As he started to rally his men and rush up from below, he was met by the crowd fleeing from the terrible slaughter that was taking place above. But at last he managed to work his way up the companion ladder. He too was wounded and bleeding—a splinter had gashed him in the neck and another in the shoulder. What a sight he saw! Lawrence, his beloved friend, his idol, weakly holding fast to one of the belaying-pins, still repeating his fruitless cry for the men to rally on the deck. As Cox leaped toward him a second bullet from the mizzentop struck the captain in the abdomen—Cox caught him as he fell. Lawrence grasped his hand.
"Don't give up the ship!" he cried weakly. "Don't give up the ship!" He placed one arm about the boy's shoulder. He was so young; he loved his leader so much. He was faint from loss of blood. It was his first action. Never before had he seen dying men, or listened to the groans and shrieks of the wounded. Who would expect him to break away from that last fond grasp that had not relaxed? He did not know that he was now commander! Almost carrying his wounded leader, he staggered down the ladder to where the surgeon and his mates were busy at their direful work. He did not see, just as he left the deck, the English boarders headed by their own Captain, the brave and gallant Broke, spring over the railing. He did not know that he and the wounded Ludlow were the only officers now left to handle ship.... As the surgeon hastened to Lawrence's side, Cox knelt down upon one knee. He could not control the tears of sorrow and bitterness. The whole scene of the previous night flashed through his mind. Lawrence, his beloved, eager for glory, now shattered with the hand of death upon him. The Captain released the boy's hand.
"You are a brave lad, James," he said. "But stay here no longer, though I would have you with me."
Stay here no longer—though I would have you with me.
"'Stay here no longer—though I would have you with me.'"
There was more rushing and shouting from the decks above. Cox hastened up as fast as his weakened limbs would carry him. It was hand to hand now; cutlasses plying, men stabbing on the decks, growling and grovelling in their blood like fighting dogs. There was a party making an onslaught toward the bows. Cox drew his sword and joined them. The first thing he knew, they were slashing at him with their heavy blades. They were Englishmen! He did not know his own crew by sight. The firing had stopped; the summer breeze was blowing the smoke away. But what a sight and what a sound! The battered, reddened hulls, and the groans that rose in chorus! Of the further details there is little to relate. Poor Ludlow was killed at last by a cutlass in the hands of a British sailor; for after the flag had been hauled down, a second action had been started by a hot-headed boy firing at a British sentry placed at the gangway. The English, by mistake, had hoisted the captured flag uppermost, but it was soon discovered and hauled down again—the fight was over. TheChesapeakehas been reckoned one of England's dearest prizes.
The sorrowful news of her defeat was carried quickly into Boston. The wise ones wagged their heads again. At the house of the Commandant of the navy yard at Charlestown, Bainbridge paced the room alone, deep lines of grief marking his rugged face, and on the floor above, a young girl lay insensible, for the word as first brought was that with the other officers James Cox had had his death. Captain Broke, the Englishman, had fought a gallant, manly fight, all honor to him! He was badly wounded, and, like poor Lawrence, it was thought that he would die. The latter, when he had heard the firing cease, had said to the surgeon:—
"Run to the deck. Tell them not to strike the colors! While I live they shall wave!" Brave Lawrence! They were the last words he ever spoke. Although he lingered four long suffering days, not a sound passed his lips. Broke, on the contrary, was raving in a delirium, and these were the words he kept repeating—words he must have spoken before the action had begun:—
"See the brave fellow! How grandly he brings his ship along! How gallantly he comes to action!"
Ah, how Halifax rejoiced when theShannonsailed in there with a Yankee frigate under her lee. How the guns boomed, and how the city went mad with joy! And how England rejoiced, and the "Thunderer" thundered and the king clapped his hands! And how much they made of it! How proudly they preserved every relic of the captured ship! How they cherished her figurehead and exhibited her logbook! And they builded her timbers into an old mill, where they can show them to you to-day, scarred with cannon shot.
Yes, and how America lamented! Aye, and grew angry in her distress and cried for vengeance! Many times during the trial which followed in the investigation of the causes for the vessel's loss and capture, must have young James Cox wished that he were dead, that it had been he the British cutlasses and musket-balls had hacked to pieces. The navy had lost a ship in single combat,—the press and the authorities did not like that,—some one must suffer. What excuse was there that could hold good? said they—the great public which clamored for a reason. And so in the flush of the hot feeling he was sentenced by court martial; sentenced and disgraced. The charge of cowardice was disproved. From that he was exonerated—he had been wounded. But why had he not cut down the men as they left their guns? (one man against fifty, forsooth!) Why had he left the deck and gone below? Why had he stayed for one moment's time at the side of his dying friend and leader? And so he was made the scapegoat, although if he had been six men or ten, he could not have prevented what had happened. What is the use of "ifs"? The best ship had won. But when the trial was over, two hearts were broken. The young officer was execrated by those that did not know, and yet who talk and write. Could he dare just then to ask a woman's hand?
The navy pitied him, the scapegoat of theChesapeake. How he petitioned to be given a chance to win back his fair name, and how often it was denied him! The members of the court that sentenced him wrote kindly letters almost without exception. But even the brave Decatur did not dare to help him—public opinion is more formidable to face than an armed ship. And so James Cox, maybe in the hope that an honorable death would visit him, shouldered a musket and fought as a common soldier in the ranks on land.
And when the war was over, he sought refuge in the new country of the west, where perhaps they would not know. And there he lived and died; died an old man, honored and respected by his neighbors. But those that loved him marvelled at one thing; he never smiled. And even his grandchildren (for he married late in life) knew not that he had once been a gay young lieutenant with a shining epaulet on his left shoulder. They never heard that he had started one fine June day to find glory and fame; and that death had come near to him but passed him by, which he had more than once regretted bitterly.
After he had been laid to rest letters and papers were found showing that to the last he had been trying to have his name placed back upon the navy lists. But if they were too angry to listen before in their deep chagrin, they were too busy now; they had other things to think about. And people who wrote history, aye and taught it in the schools, did not search dispassionately for what had occurred to view the facts. They took the feverish verdict of the times and applied adjectives to his conduct that were out of place; some called it "pusillanimous"—"cowardly." We can look at things differently now, and judge them for their worth. There is proof enough to clear his name, so be it cleared if these few words can help to do it.
THE LOSS OF THE VIXEN
On the 22d of October, 1812, at ninea.m., the United States brigVixencrossed St. Mary's bar outward bound for a cruise to the southward. It was not expected that she would be absent from home waters for more than a month. Her commander was George W. Reed, a good officer, although he had had little experience in actual warfare. The hundred and ten men under his immediate command had trust in his judgment and were all animated with a hope of coming in again with one of the enemy under their lee, or at least they trusted that they should be fortunate enough to make one or two rich captures and return with prize money to their credit. As one of theVixen'screw wrote: "All hands were in high health and spirits, and filled with the idea of soon returning with some fruit of the consequence of the war."
Day after day theVixensailed on and saw one sail after another; but owing to her having been well to the leeward in every case she had been unable to bring any to close quarters. On the tenth morning after her departure a sail was descried, and this time it so happened that the little brig was well to the windward. Setting every stitch of her canvas, she made after the stranger. Judging from all reports, theVixen'sintentions must have been better than her powers of putting them into practice; for if her legs had been faster, so to speak, the expectations of her crew might have been answered, and this story (which is nothing but a record of events, however) would never have had a chance to be written. So it is safe to draw the conclusion that she was not as fast as many of our little vessels were at this period of our naval history.
While chasing the strange sail, another was perceived to be bearing down from the northwest. This put another face on the matter. TheVixenhauled her wind and waited. As it was perceived the second stranger was undoubtedly armed and was a large brig, Reed called his men together as was the custom and made the following little speech:—
"Now, my lads, there she is; I expect every man to stand to his guns. Don't fire a gun until you are within pistol shot; take good aim and show her fair play."
As the vessel came on without raising her flag, she fired a broadside of round and grape, which, however, served no other purpose than to churn the water into foam some distance ahead of theVixen'sbow. The latter returned the compliment, and planted a double-shotted eighteen-pound charge in her antagonist's hull, above the sternpost. Again the stranger fired and missed, although at musket-shot distance.
Now, odd to relate, the unknown ran up signals, which, not understanding, Captain Reed replied to with an assortment of grape. At this the signals came down and the Spanish colors went up in their place. Bitter was the disappointment; she was to be no costly prize, after all. Seeing there was some difficulty on board of her, Captain Reed lowered a boat, and ascertained that she was a Spanish brig of fourteen guns from Havana, bound for Cadiz. Finding out that she only had two or three men slightly wounded, Captain Reed went on his way, after regretting that the "mistake" had occurred. However, in the log there was entered on this day that "owing to the good chance for target practice the morning had not been spent amiss."
For just one month everything seemed to run away from the poor littleVixen. The men were getting discouraged. They would see a convoy, most probably made up of rich merchantmen, somewhere off to leeward, and then a fog would shut down, and when it cleared away nothing would be seen but an expanse of empty horizon. With nothing done, and a sorry and disappointed crew, she was within two days' sail of St. Mary's, in the state of Maryland, when as luck would have it the man at the masthead reported a sail on the starboard beam.
Much better would it have been for the littleVixenif the fog had closed down or a contrary wind had sprung up, or had she gone about her business and made for home as soon as possible. It was just daylight in the morning. Steering-sails were set on both sides as she was headed out again to meet the stranger, who had evidently not observed her presence. By six o'clock it was made out that the unknown was a frigate and no less. This was more than theVixenhad bargained for. With all her canvas standing as it was, she tacked ship and hauled up on the wind, which was extremely light. But the frigate proved herself to be a good one at going; she had set all of her light canvas that she could, and it was a caution the way she came down upon the little brig.
Although it is only a preliminary to the story, which has another side than that of the amusing, one cannot read an extract from theVixen'slog without feeling inclined to smile. Therefore to quote: "At ten, finding the chase gained on us, increasingly, commenced starting water out of the fore and main holds to lighten the brig. At eleven dead calm; out sweeps and continued rowing without intermission until twelve. Slow work; but we had now gained some advantage over the chase. Then a breeze springing up we quickly lost it. In sweeps, and to lighten the brig still more, hove every article, in and under the boats, overboard. Stationed hands by the anchors to cut them away when ordered. Half past twelvep.m., discharged all the shot from the racks. At one, cut away both anchors. At twop.m., the chase still gaining, hove two elegant brass nine-pounders after the anchors. Chase still gained. Broached all the water in the casks, hove over all our broadside guns, and everything that seemed to carry weight. Finding that in despite of our exertions theVixenwould not sail an inch faster than her old gait, we now had the melancholy satisfaction of knowing our capture was a certainty. But we were determined to use every exertion to avoid it. Thus we commenced manœuvring with the sails, which kept the men on the jump and had only the effect of putting off the capture for an hour or two. At threep.m., all her guns were visible, at half past, coming up, hand over hand, she gave us a shot which fell short. A few minutes later another was sent which went between our foremast and mainmast. Answered by running up our colors and firing a musket to windward. The chase having English colors up, and as it would have been madness to engage her, we fired another shot to leeward and hauled our colors down. At fourp.m., she ranged alongside."
And now, strange to say, all those on board the brig were astonished to see that the frigate had the word "Constellation" painted on her stern. The crew of theVixenlooked at each other in astonishment. Had there been another mistake? But there was something unmistakably English about the cut of her jib, and the red coats of a party of marines who were scrambling down into a boat which she had lowered plainly showed her character. Besides this, Captain Reed knew well that the YankeeConstellationwas aground in the mud-flats of the James River, where she stayed during the war.
The officer, who was soon on board, with his seamen and marines, informed Captain Reed and his lieutenants that theVixenwas a prize to His Britannic Majesty's frigateSouthampton, thirty-six guns, Sir James Lucas Yeo, commander. At once Captain Reed entered the English boat and went on board the frigate. As he rode close under the stern he saw that the word "Constellation" had been painted on a wide strip of canvas, tacked neatly over the name "Southampton." He did not ask the reason for this; it was easy to guess. If she happened to put in to one of the small harbors along the coast, it would conceal successfully her identity. Probably Sir James did not know that the realConstellationwas fast in the mud-flat.
Sir James was a gentleman and a nobleman by action as well as by birth, and his very first doing proved it. He came forward to meet Captain Reed and lifted his hat in a courtly salute; Captain Reed presented the hilt of his sword in token of surrender.
"No, no, sir," spoke up the Captain of theSouthampton. "I cannot accept this from you; and I wish to commend you, sir, upon the skill you displayed in endeavoring to save your vessel. My ship is a very fast one."
"And mine a very slow one," put in Captain Reed.
"But I am sure you did everything that any one could do to get speed out of her."
"We hove everything overboard but our top sides and scantlings," returned Reed.
The officers standing about smiled, for theVixen'sfrantic endeavors to escape had been watched closely through the glass.
The kindness shown to the brig's commander was extended in every way to the other officers and to the crew also. As the frigate was very crowded, but seventy of theVixen's menwere transferred to her. The other forty were kept as prisoners on board their own vessel. Every man was allowed to take his dunnage, and the prisoners on board theSouthamptonwere given the run of the forward and main holds, although the hatchways were closely guarded by armed sentinels. Excepting for the confinement, which was absolutely necessary, of course, and which was in direct accordance with the rules of war, the prisoners suffered no inconvenience. Twice a day in details of twenty they were permitted to be on deck to enjoy the fresh air. TheSouthampton'screw were already on short allowance, owing to their having been at sea for some length of time, and the dole allowed the Americans was almost, if not quite, equal to that given the Englishmen. The officers were treated with the greatest of politeness and civility, and Captain Reed dined daily with Sir James in the cabin. All hands voted him a fine man and gentleman, and that he was a naval officer was proved conclusively enough by his actions subsequently when at the head of the British operations on the Lakes.
Five days after the capture the weather was fine, but a small sea was running. TheSouthampton, under easy sail, was leading, and crowding on all she could carry; theVixenmanaged to keep within signalling distance of her. In three or four days every one expected to be anchored safe in Jamaica.
It was about half past eleven on a bright starry night when the lookout forward suddenly gave the cry, "Land ho!" A line of breakers could be seen about two miles to the westward, and above them the shores of a little island, at its highest point but twelve or fourteen feet above the water. Evidently the sailing-master of the frigate was out of his course. He probably had not allowed for the drift of one of those strange Gulf currents which have caused the destruction of many a fine ship.
TheSouthamptonwas put about in a hurry, and as she was such a good sailer and was so quick in manœuvring, no danger was apprehended, and she jogged along to the eastward to escape the proximity of the shoals. TheVixenwas following her and taking in some of her sail as the wind commenced to blow much fresher. At twelve o'clock the sky had darkened, and it was difficult for one vessel to distinguish the other, although in the early part of the evening, by the aid of the moon and stars, everything had been visible. The mid-watch was just coming on, when, with a sudden shock, theSouthamptonstruck on a sunken ledge of rocks; but she slid over the first, tearing the sheathing from her hull and wedging herself firmly in at the stern. Immediately a gun was fired to warn theVixen, that was following in the wake; and also to be a signal of distress, as the greatest consternation prevailed now on board the frigate—that was leaking badly. But the usual ill fortune of theVixenpursued her. At first she hove to and shortened sail, preparing to come to the frigate's assistance. Just as she was about to heave to the second time and lower a boat, she struck with such a vicious force that her bows drove high out of water, she was stove in completely, and all the prisoners, who had been wondering what was going on, now terrified and in great fear of immediate death, rushed up on deck to see a strange sight. It was pitch dark; the waves were breaking on every hand, and off the port bow the big frigate could be seen hard and fast, signalling in great distress.
Her position, in fact, was much worse than that of the brig, for she was filling and settling rapidly. Everything was being done that knowledge and good seamanship could suggest or direct. The top-gallant yards and masts were sent down, and top-masts were struck; and notwithstanding the sea was very rough, two boats were lowered, and although one was crushed against the vessel's side, the other set out to search for a safe passage through the reef. On board theVixenthe boats had been called away, and the American and English crews were mingled, but without confusion. A Yankee sat beside John Bull on a thwart, and deeming that their own vessel was in no immediate danger, but that theSouthamptonwas about to sink, they started to act the part of life-savers and rescue as many of the frigate's crew as they could. There was no thought of their being enemies, no observance of the differences between prisoners and captors; all sought to act for the cause of humanity and to save human life. But they had not proceeded far from the side of the brig when they were called back in a hurry. TheVixenhad slipped from her firm position on the jagged rock and was surely sinking. So instead of being a rescue party to others they found they had all they could do to save themselves. But every man was taken off and brought on board of theSouthampton.