1812: The Navy's War (44 page)

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Authors: George Daughan

Tags: #War of 1812

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In twenty minutes Burrows ran the
Enterprise
alongside the
Boxer
within half pistol shot (about ten yards). Each ship held its fire until the other was alongside, and then both broadsides erupted, initiating an intense, broadsideto-broadside gunfight. Both captains fell in the first exchange. An eighteen-pound ball struck Blyth, killing him instantly, and a musket ball hit Burrows, mortally wounding him. “Our brave commander fell,” the officers aboard the
Enterprise
reported, “and while lying on deck, refusing to be carried below, raised his head and requested that the flag never be struck.”
After fifteen minutes of a brutal exchange, the
Enterprise
pulled ahead and fired one of her nine-pounders with effect before rounding to on the starboard tack and raking the
Boxer
. The British ship soon ceased firing. All her braces and rigging were shot away, the main topmast and topgallant mast hung over the side, and the fore and mainmasts were nearly gone. Only the quarterdeck guns were manned. Three feet of water flooded the hold, and more was rushing in. Her deck was strewn with dead and wounded, and no surgeon was aboard to tend them. She was in desperate straits.
The
Enterprise
now pulled into a position from which to rake the
Boxer
again and completely destroy her but held her fire. While she did, British Lieutenant McCrery, who had assumed command when Blyth fell, consulted his officers and decided to give up. Since Blyth had nailed their ensigns to the masts, they could not be hauled down. McCrery had to hail the
Enterprise
in order to surrender. It was four o’clock.
Isaac Hull later described the
Boxer
’s condition. Her “masts, sails, and spars . . . [were] literally cut to pieces, several of her guns dismounted and unfit for service; her topgallant forecastle nearly taken off by the shot; her boats cut to pieces, and her quarters injured in proportion.” The
Boxer
had four killed and eighteen wounded; the
Enterprise
, three killed and fourteen wounded.
Lieutenant Edward McCall, now in command of the
Enterprise
, sailed into Portland with the wounded
Boxer
in tow. The town gave the victorious Americans a rousing welcome. The bodies of the two captains were brought ashore and given an elaborate funeral. The crews of both ships attended, as did Portland’s notables and Captain Isaac Hull, who came up from Portsmouth. “A great concourse of people assembled from town and country,” the
Portland Gazette
reported. “The wharfs and streets were lined with people on both sides; tops of houses and windows were filled with men and women and children.” The two young captains were buried side by side in Portland’s Eastern Cemetery, where they rest today. The ceremony of their burials made a deep impression on all who witnessed it, including young Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
The deaths of these two promising young men were a reminder of the terrible price being paid for the war. Deeply affected by the killing and wounding, Lieutenant McCall arrested Sailing Master William Harper, accusing him of cowardice. McCall charged that Harper had “endeavored to screen himself from the shot of the enemy behind the foremast and under the heel of the bowsprit while the enemy lay on our quarter by doing which he set an example to the crew of the
Enterprise
that might have led to her surrender and disgrace to the American character.” McCall also charged that Harper “advised me to haul down the colors at a time when the firing from the enemy was much diminished and ours could be kept up with unabated effect.”
A court-martial, held the following December and January, found Harper not guilty. Had the charge been substantiated, he could have been sentenced to death.
 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF the
Enterprise
came at the same time as Perry’s far more important success on Lake Erie. They made up to a degree for the
Chesapeake
’s defeat back in June that year. President Madison, like most of the country, was profoundly disturbed by the
Chesapeake-Shannon
affair. He was anxious to celebrate any victory. Perry and the
Enterprise
were a welcome return to the path of glory.
Unfortunately, during the last six months of 1813, there were few other encouraging moments for the U.S. Navy. Even getting to sea was difficult for the American fleet. Two of the country’s vaunted heavy frigates, the
Constitution
and the
United States,
were blockaded—“Old Ironsides” in Boston and the
United States
in the Thames River with the
Macedonian
and the
Hornet
. The other heavy frigate, John Rodgers’s
President
, was out at sea on her third cruise. She had escaped from Boston earlier, but nothing had been heard from her or her companion, the
Congress
(John Smith). Charles Morris and the
Adams
were confined to Chesapeake Bay, and the
Constellation
was still trapped in Norfolk. What had happened to David Porter and the
Essex
was a mystery. He failed to rendezvous with Bainbridge as planned, but where he went and how well he was faring was unknown.
 
 
LIEUTENANT HENRY ALLEN’S
Argus
appeared, at first, to be a bright spot in this gloomy picture. On June 18 Allen stood out from New York, bound for France with Ambassador William Crawford aboard, eluding the blockade off Sandy Hook with no trouble. Allen was one of the navy’s young stars. Decatur was loud in his praise, attributing their triumph over the
Macedonian
to Allen’s masterful gunnery.
Allen’s orders from Secretary Jones were to deliver Crawford to France and then undertake a commerce-destroying mission around the British Isles. Like Rodgers, Jones believed the British were vulnerable in their home waters. He also thought that a fleet of swift, powerful sloops of war attacking Britain’s trade would create a huge problem for the Royal Navy and make a decisive contribution to ending the war. Allen’s mission was something Jones would have liked to order on a large scale, but he did not have the ships or the men to do it.
The passage across the Atlantic was marked by heavy turbulence. Ambassador Crawford recounted a particularly uncomfortable day in his journal—Wednesday, June 30: “The wind increases to a storm. The
Argus
marches o’er the mountainous wave. The rain descends in torrents and drives me from the deck. The guns on the lee side are constantly underwater, and every heavy sea washes the deck with its mountainous billows. It is impossible to stand on the deck without clinging to a rope. It is extremely difficult to keep dry even in the cabin, unless I get into the berth, which I am the more inclined to do from the violent retching which the motion of the vessel communicates to my stomach.”
The
Argus
arrived at L’Orient on July 11, having taken one prize en route. Allen immediately went to work preparing for his next mission, and on July 20 he set out for the mouth of the English Channel. During the next week the
Argus
took three small prizes between Ushant and the Scillies Islands. Allen’s orders required him to burn all prizes. Jones did not want him weakening his crew by using men to sail captured vessels to friendly (French) ports.
Expecting the British to be out in force looking for him, Allen shaped a course for Cape Clear and the southwestern coast of Ireland. He disguised his ship by painting her black with a thick yellow stripe across her gun ports to make her look like a British man-of-war. On August 1, off the mouth of the River Shannon, Allen captured his fifth prize, the
Fowey
, and set her on fire. The next day he captured the
Lady Francis
, and in the following twelve days, sailing along the southern coast of Ireland and up St. George’s Channel, he took fourteen more prizes—a spectacular performance, better than any ship on either side had managed.
The commander of Britain’s Irish Station in Cork, Vice Admiral Edward Thornborough, was understandably embarrassed by the bold American raider operating in his backyard. The Royal Navy was spread so thin that Thornborough had few ships he could assign to chase Allen. That changed on August 12, however, when the brig
Pelican
put into Cork. Thornborough immediately dispatched her captain, Commander John F. Maples, to go after
Argus
. The
Pelican
was a new ship, having been launched in August 1812 and commissioned the following November. Her skipper was a veteran who knew his business. He had fought with Nelson at Copenhagen and Trafalgar, and also with Hyde Parker on the Jamaica Station in the frigate
Magicienne
.
Maples was in luck. The day after he left Cork, he was cruising in St. George’s Channel when he spoke a brig whose captain told him he had seen a strange man-of-war steering to the northeast. Maples headed in that direction. The following morning, August 15, at four o’clock a lookout aboard the
Pelican
spotted a vessel on fire and a brig standing from her. The burning vessel was the large merchantman
Belford
, carrying, among other things, a large shipment of wine; the brig was the
Argus
. Maples immediately gave chase. In an hour and a half he pulled to within sight of St. David’s Head off the coast of Wales. The
Argus
was only four hundred yards away.
Allen had been waiting for him. He had seen the
Pelican
as soon as Maples saw him, and there was no doubt in his mind that this was a British warship. At first, Allen attempted to gain the weather gauge, but failing that, he shortened sail and simply waited, determined to have it out toe-to-toe with the approaching enemy. When shortly it became clear that the
Pelican
was more powerful than the ten-year-old
Argus
, Allen stood his ground. He never gave a thought to running, as he undoubtedly should have, given his orders and the
Pelican
’s strength. The
Argus
had eighteen twenty-four-pound carronades, two long twelve-pounders, and a crew of 104. The
Pelican
had sixteen thirty-two-pound carronades, two long twelve-pounders, two six-pound long guns, and a crew of 116.
Allen’s primary mission was commerce destroying, and getting into a bloody fight with this larger British ship, even if Allen won, would make carrying out his orders impossible. He’d be lucky if he could limp into a French port afterward. While his orders did direct him to “capture and destroy” enemy warships as well as commercial vessels, Secretary Jones would have undoubtedly approved bypassing this engagement so that Allen could continue his remarkable reign of terror. Furthermore, Allen’s crew was dead tired from their exertions of the last few days; his men needed a rest. But Allen could not pass up this opportunity for glory, and he had an important advantage. The
Argus
was faster and more maneuverable than the
Pelican
, and that could make all the difference. By the same token,
Argus
’s speed would have allowed her to run away without much trouble. Allen chose not to because he had a good chance of winning, or so he thought.
When the two ships were two hundred yards apart, they opened fire. Oddly, the
Pelican
’s broadsides were more effective. Allen was known as a superb gunner; it was hard to understand why his crew were not better marksmen—perhaps it was fatigue. In the opening rounds, a thirty-two-pound ball smashed Allen’s left knee, and after gallantly trying to carry on, he fainted from loss of blood and had to be carried below. First Lieutenant William Watson was then hit in the head and knocked unconscious. Second Lieutenant Howard Allen (not related to the fallen captain) took command as Maples maneuvered to rake the
Argus
by the stern. Howard Allen responded by backing the main topsail, which slowed the
Argus
and put her into a position to cross the
Pelican
’s bow and rake her. It was a critical moment in the battle. A well-directed broadside at that distance would have crippled the
Pelican
enough for Howard Allen to defeat her. But his broadside, inexplicably, did no damage. Maples took advantage of the reprieve and came up alongside the
Argus
, pummeling her with his heavy guns. He then raked her by the bow and the stern. The
Argus
was finished. Maples was preparing to board when Howard Allen struck his colors. The fighting had raged for forty-three minutes. The
Argus
had six killed and eighteen wounded, five of them mortally (Lieutenant Watson recovered). The
Pelican
had two killed and five wounded.
The battle was a stunning conclusion to the
Argus
’s otherwise spectacularly successful cruise. Captain Henry Allen and the rest of the prisoners were taken to Dartmoor Prison in Plymouth, where four days later Allen died. The British gave him a hero’s funeral and buried him in Plymouth’s St. Andrews Churchyard, along with Midshipman Richard Delphey. Allen never found out that he had been promoted to master commandant in July. In London, the
Times
boasted, “The victory of the
Pelican
over
Argus
is another proof of British superiority on the ocean.”
 
 
THE
ARGUS
WAS not the only American warship operating around the British Isles in the summer of 1813. Commodore Rodgers and the
President
were there as well. Rodgers had departed Boston on April 23 in company with Captain John Smith and the
Congress
. They split up on May 8. Rodgers hoped the
President
would see more action than she had on her first two voyages. His initial target was the homeward-bound Jamaica convoy. With this in mind, he cruised south of the Grand Banks. The only ships he saw, however, were Americans returning from Lisbon and Cadiz with British gold and silver in their coffers. Nothing annoyed him more than this blatant, legal trafficking with the enemy. The scandal of trading under British licenses would soon come to an end, however. In July 1813, Congress, with President Madison’s strong support, finally passed a bill making the noxious practice illegal. A three- to five-month grace period was allowed for ships coming from the Far East, Africa, and—most importantly—Europe.

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