When Broke saw Ludlow’s men assembling, he called for his own boarders. As he did, Lawrence suddenly slumped to the deck, felled by a musket ball from a marksman in the
Shannon
’s tops. He cried out to be taken to his cabin. Lieutenant Ludlow was shot at the same time and severely wounded. At this point, Acting Third Lieutenant William Cox appeared from below. He had been in charge of the guns on the starboard side of the
Chesapeake
’s gun deck, the side that was not firing, and since he wasn’t needed there, he climbed up to the quarterdeck. Hearing Lawrence’s call to be taken below, he ordered a couple of men to help him carry the captain to his cabin. When he disappeared below, Cox did not realize he was the senior officer in command on the spar deck. After seeing to Lawrence, Cox attempted to return to the fight on the upper deck, but he ran into a flood of men retreating below and could not get past them.
Meanwhile, Broke had his boarders assembled and was leading them onto the
Chesapeake
’s quarterdeck. With Lawrence and Ludlow severely wounded and Cox having gone below, the
Chesapeake
’s boarders were leaderless and disoriented. Deadly musket balls continued raining down from the
Shannon
’s tops. Second Lieutenant George Budd, now the ship’s senior officer, was below on the gun deck running operations there, unaware of the situation on the spar deck above.
Broke pressed his advantage, and as he led his boarders forward, a pistol shot fired by the
Chesapeake
’s chaplain hit him. It didn’t stop him, though; he continued on against little organized opposition. Broke and his men quickly gained control of the quarterdeck and were fighting their way to the forecastle when Lieutenant Budd, having been alerted by one of Lawrence’s aides, reached the spar deck with some men. He found that the
Shannon
’s boarders had already gained possession of the quarterdeck and were fighting their way forward. Budd ordered the fore tack hauled on board in hopes of shooting the
Chesapeake
clear of the
Shannon
. He then tried to regain control of the quarterdeck, but he was soon wounded himself and collapsed momentarily. Despite his injury, he rose and made another valiant effort to collect his men and resist the
Shannon
’s boarders, but many of the
Chesapeake
crew had fled below, desperate to get away from the slaughter.
In the course of the fighting, a cutlass had slashed Broke’s hard hat and sliced through his skull, nearly killing him, but he retained command and now had control of the entire upper deck, which was a bloody mess. The dying Lawrence told his men in a whisper, “Don’t give up the ship,” and then repeated it. But with Broke in complete command of the upper deck, Lieutenant Budd was forced to surrender. After he did, Broke passed out.
The
Shannon
’s second lieutenant was now in command. Her first lieutenant, Mr. Watt, had been killed at the moment of victory. The entire battle lasted only fifteen minutes.
Totally dejected, Lieutenant Budd allowed himself to be taken down to the cockpit, where his wound could be treated. When he arrived, he found Lawrence and Ludlow mortally wounded; the sight badly shook him. Both the Fourth Lieutenant Edward J. Ballard and Marine Lieutenant James Broom were also wounded.
The butcher’s bill was horrific on both ships. In addition to Lieutenant Watt, the
Shannon
lost her purser, the captain’s clerk, and twenty-three seamen, while Captain Broke and a midshipman were wounded, along with fifty-six other men. As bad as these casualties were, the
Chesapeake
suffered much worse. She had forty-seven killed and ninety-eight wounded.
The high casualties and the damage done to the
Shannon
disprove the charge made later by historians that Lawrence and the
Chesapeake
were not ready to fight. They lost because of Lawrence’s decision not to exploit the initial tactical advantage he had and because of bad luck, not because the
Chesapeake
was unprepared. Lawrence may have been guilty of not following orders; he undoubtedly should have avoided the
Shannon
and stuck to the mission the president had assigned him, but had he not given up his early tactical advantage, been mortally wounded, or lost his headsails, he might well have been the victor.
The baleful duty of reporting the defeat to Secretary Jones fell to George Budd. While he scratched out details of the fight, the
Shannon
and the
Chesapeake
sailed to Halifax with Captain Broke barely clinging to life, although eventually he recovered. Lawrence was not so lucky; he lay on the
Chesapeake
’s wardroom table in excruciating pain, unable to speak for four horrific days before mercifully succumbing. He and the other American officers who died were buried with full military honors in Halifax, the British paying solemn tribute to their bravery.
In all the confusion during the last moments of the fighting, George Budd had neglected to order the navy’s signal book destroyed, and it was captured, which forced Secretary Jones to write a new one. The assignment went to Charles Morris, who was in Washington at the time waiting for his new command, the
Adams,
to be converted to a corvette.
When news of the
Shannon
’s victory reached London the first week of July, the reaction was initially subdued. The
Times
noted that “the heroism of British seamen prevailed” but refrained from its usual gloating. After giving the matter more thought, however, the
Times
wrote, “American vanity, raised to the most inordinate height by their former successes in three very unequal contests, has been . . . stung almost to madness, by this unequivocal proof of their inferiority to us in fair and equal combat.”
The initial tepid response to the
Shannon
’s victory was a result of rejoicing over Wellington’s stunning triumph at Vittoria on June 21. After four years of vicious fighting, the French had suffered a crushing defeat and were retreating wholesale out of Spain back to the Pyrenees. No one doubted that Wellington would soon be on French soil. And Vittoria was only one indication that Napoleon’s power was eroding. His spring and summer campaign in Saxony against Russia, Prussia, and their allies was sapping his strength, and he had agreed to an armistice. With these stupendous events to contemplate, the American war was far from British thoughts. But also far from their thoughts was a reconciliation with the United States. Liverpool was still intent on revenge; he was just biding his time.
Although Lawrence’s heroic death and his dying admonition not to give up the ship were deeply inspirational, President Madison and Secretary Jones were angry that he had disregarded his important orders and by doing so had needlessly lost one of the navy’s few frigates. Jones now issued explicit orders that captains avoid one-on-one battles. He wrote to Charles Stewart, who had assumed command of the
Constitution
in May, to put to sea when he saw an opening, but “should any attempt be made to allure you by a challenge to single combat, I am directed by the President to prohibit strictly acceptance either directly or indirectly.”
In the aftermath of the battle, George Budd was mad enough with Lieutenant Cox to prefer charges against him, formally accusing him of cowardice. Budd claimed that Cox should have assumed command on the spar deck and not personally brought the captain below. A court-martial tried Cox almost a year later. Commodore Decatur was president of the court, serving with Captain Jacob Jones, Master Commandant James Biddle, and several lieutenants. Decatur convened the court in April 1814 and convicted Cox of neglect of duty and unofficer-like conduct, sentencing him to be cashiered from the navy. President Madison approved the verdict. Cox, who considered himself entirely innocent, responded by enlisting in the army and serving as a private until the end of the war. In 1952, 138 years later, after Cox’s descendants had spent decades trying to clear his name, President Truman finally set aside the court’s unwarranted verdict.
IN APRIL AND May 1813, the British blockade had tightened even more in New York than it had in Boston. The 74-gun
Valiant
, under Captain Robert Dudley Oliver, and the 44-gun
Acasta
(the largest frigate in the British service), under Captain Alexander Kerr, patrolled off Sandy Hook, with other ships joining them periodically. The Royal Navy’s most famous officer, Sir Thomas Masterman Hardy (Nelson’s flag captain during the Battle of Trafalgar and his favorite) patrolled at the eastern end of Long Island in the 74-gun
Ramillies
, accompanied by the 36-gun
Orpheus
, under Captain Hugh Pigot. They were occupying Block Island and using it, among other things, to water their ships. From time to time additional men-of-war accompanied Hardy. Neither Oliver nor Hardy had any trouble obtaining food from farmers along the coasts of New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut.
Oliver was the senior officer in command of the blockading force. His first priority was keeping Stephen Decatur and the American warships confined in New York. Decatur’s
United States
was being repaired, as were the
Macedonian
, under Jacob Jones, and the
Hornet
, under her new captain, Master Commandant James Biddle, who had joined her on May 22. The brig
Argus
, under Lieutenant William H. Allen, was also in New York, and she was ready for sea. As a reward for his brilliant work against the
Macedonian
, Secretary Jones gave Allen command of the
Argus
, but he did not promote him to master commandant, as Allen and every other officer in the navy expected.
During the first week of May, Jones ordered Decatur to cruise with the
Argus
off South Carolina and disrupt the British blockade there. Afterward, Decatur was to send the
Argus
to join the
Chesapeake
on patrol in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Decatur worked hard to get the
United States
into shape, and on May 9 he sailed her, in company with the
Argus,
to Sandy Hook, planning to leave early the next morning. But at daybreak the
Valiant
and
Acasta
were in full view, and Decatur, ever conscious of the sluggish sailing of the
United States
, decided not to attempt a breakout until foul weather gave him more of an edge. The refurbished
Macedonian
soon joined him, and the three ships waited for dirty weather. Five uneventful days passed, and during that time revised orders arrived for the
Argus
, directing Allen to take Senator William Crawford, the new American ambassador to France, to L’Orient or any other place along the French coast where Allen could get in. After depositing Crawford, Allen was to cruise around the British Isles and take whatever ships came his way. Allen relished the assignment.
While Allen waited for the ambassador, Decatur, growing impatient, decided to exit the harbor by a different route. He withdrew to New York and then to Hell Gate, where he planned to pass into Long Island Sound and escape into the Atlantic between Montauk Point and Block Island at the eastern end of the island.
For six days an easterly breeze kept him in the East River, but on May 24 the wind hauled around to the west, fair for making the treacherous trip through Hell Gate, and Decatur sailed through easily with the
Macedonian
and
Hornet.
He then beat down the Sound against a persistent easterly and stormy weather. During the trip, lightning struck the mainmast of the
United States
and traveled through parts of the ship. Decatur made repairs as he went, and on the twenty-ninth he was off Fishers Island, near the mouth of the Thames River, waiting for an opportunity to break out into the Atlantic.
On the first of June, Decatur made his move, standing through the Race (a tidal rip west of Fishers Island at the eastern end of Long Island Sound that can run at four miles an hour), and steered for Block Island Sound. The
Valiant
and the
Acasta
were visible in the distance to the south and west. Captain Oliver had ordered Hardy to switch places with him so that he could capture Decatur, but he was too far away to even make an attempt. Decatur appeared to have a clear opening, but as he approached Block Island, he thought he saw two more warships of considerable size. At the same time, he spotted Oliver racing to cut him off from New London. Convinced that he would soon be trapped between two large British forces, Decatur hauled his wind and beat back through the Race, retreating to the safety of the Thames River and New London before Oliver could catch him. The
Acasta
got close enough to the slower
United States
to fire a few ineffectual shots, but that was all.
Since it was the renowned Decatur who failed to escape, no one questioned his account, but there were no British warships, large or small, off Block Island at the time he was trying to get to sea. He had a clear opening. The ships his lookouts saw were not British warships. Instead of being loose in the Atlantic, he was now trapped in the Thames River. Oliver stationed a large force at the mouth of the Thames to keep him bottled up.
After reaching New London, Decatur worked hard to protect himself. He wrote to Secretary Jones, “I immediately directed my attention and all my exertions to strengthening the defenses of the place.” The Federalist government of Connecticut had left the seacoast defenseless. Decatur asked Jones to send him twenty pieces of heavy cannon.