sure were the English of making a capture that Captain Broke had appointed a prize crew from his vessel, the Shannon, and had claimed the honor of sailing the Constitution into Halifax; but, as a contemporary states, “The gallant gentleman counted his chickens before they were hatched” — a saying trite but true.
To quote from the Shannon’s log, under the entry of July 18th, will be of interest: “At dawn” (so it runs) “an American frigate within four miles of the squadron. Had a most fatiguing and anxious chase; both towing and kedging, as opportunity offered. American exchanged a few shots with Belvidera — carried near enemy by partial breeze. Cut our boats adrift, but all in vain; the Constitution sailed well and escaped.”
It is recorded in English annals that there were some very sharp recriminations and explanations held in the Shannon’s cabin. Perhaps Captain Hull would have enjoyed being present; but by this time he was headed northward. He ran into Boston harbor for water on the following Sunday.
Broke’s squadron separated, hoping to find the Constitution on some future day and force her to action. In this desire Captain Dacres of the Guerrière was successful — so far as the finding was concerned; but the well-known result started American hearts to beating high and cast a gloom over the Parliament of England.
The ovations and praises bestowed upon the American commander upon his arrival at Boston induced him to insert the following card on the books of the Exchange Coffee-House:
“Captain Hull, finding that his friends in Boston are correctly informed of his situation when chased by the British squadron off New York, and that they are good enough to give him more credit for having escaped it than he ought to claim, takes this opportunity of requesting them to transfer their good wishes to Lieutenant Morris and the other brave officers, and the crew under his command, for their very great exertions and prompt attention to his orders while the enemy were in chase. Captain Hull has great pleasure in saying that, notwithstanding the length of the chase, and the officers and crew being deprived of sleep, and allowed but little refreshment during the time, not a murmur was heard to escape them.”
It is rather a remarkable circumstance that the Belvidera, which was one of the vessels that in this long chase did her best to come up with the Constitution, had some months before declined the honor of engaging the President. For, on the 24th of June, Captain Rodgers had fired with his own hand one of the President’s bow-chasers at the Belvidera, and thus opened the war. After exchanging some shots, Captain Byron, of the Belvidera, decided that discretion was the better part, and, lightening his ship, managed to escape.
II
THE “CONSTITUTION” AND THE “GUERRIÈRE”
[August 19th, 1812]
The history of the naval combats of our second war with Great Britain, the career of the frigate Constitution, and the deeds of our Yankee commodores will never be forgotten as long as we have a navy or continue to be a nation. England, it must be remembered, had held the seas for centuries. In no combat between single ships (where the forces engaged were anything like equal) had she lost a vessel. The French fleets, under orders of their own government, ran away from hers, and the Spanish captains had allowed their ships’ timbers to rot for years in blockaded harbors. Nevertheless, this was the age of honor, of gallantry, of the stiff duelling code, when men bowed, passed compliments, and fought one another to the death with a parade of courtesy that has left trace today in the conduct of the intercourse between all naval powers. In the duels of the ships in the past that have stirred the naval world, America has records that are monuments to her seamen, and that must arouse the pride of every officer who sails in her great steel cruisers today.
Up to the affair of the Constitution and the Guerrière, in 1812, the British had not fairly tested in battle the seamanship or naval metal of the Americans. With the exceptions of the actions between the Bonhomme Richard and the Serapis, the Ranger and Drake, and the Yarmouth and Randolph, the war of ’76 was a repelled invasion.
The twenty-four hours of the 19th of August, 1812, began with light breezes that freshened as the morning wore on. The Constitution was slipping southward through the long rolling seas.
A month before this date, under the command of Commodore Hull, she had made her wonderful escape from Broke’s squadron after a chase of over sixty hours.
Her cruise since she had left Boston, two weeks before, had been uneventful. Vainly had she sought from Cape Sable to the region of Halifax, from Nova Scotia to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, for any sign of a foe worthy her metal. It was getting on towards two o’clock; her men had finished their midday meal, the afternoon drills had not begun, and an observation showed the ship to be in latitude 41° 40´ and longitude 55° 48´. Suddenly “Sail ho!” from the mast-head stirred the groups on the forecastle, and caused the officer pacing the weather side of the quarter-deck to stop suddenly and raise his head.
“Where away?” he shouted to the voice far up above the booming sails.
Almost before he could get the answer the stranger’s top-sails were visible from the lower rigging, into which the midshipmen and idlers had scrambled, and a few moments later they could be seen from the upper deck. The vessel was too far off to show her character, but bore E.S.E., a faint dot against the horizon.
Hull came immediately from his cabin. He was a large, fat man, whose excitable temperament was held in strong control. His eye gleamed when he saw the distant speck of white. Immediately the Constitution’s course was altered, and with her light sails set she was running free, with kites all drawing, and the chase looming clearer and clearer each anxious minute of the time. At three o’clock it was plainly seen that she was a large ship, on the starboard tack, close-hauled on the wind, and under easy sail. In half an hour her ports could be descried through the glass, and loud murmurs of satisfaction ran through the ship’s company. The officers smiled congratulations at one another, and Hull’s broad face shone with his suppressed emotion. In the official account Hull speaks of the conduct of his crew before the fight in the following words: “It gives me great pleasure to say that from the smallest boy in the ship to the oldest seaman not a look of fear was seen. They went into action giving three cheers, and requesting to be laid close to the enemy.” The Constitution gained on the stranger, who held her course, as if entirely oblivious of her pursuer’s presence.
When within three miles, and to leeward, Hull shortened sail and cleared the decks; the drum beat to quarters, and the men sprang to their stations. No crew was ever better prepared to do battle for any cause or country. Although few of the men had been in action before, they had been drilled until they had the handling of the clumsy iron guns down to the point of excellence. They had been taught to fire on the falling of a sea, and to hull their opponent, if possible, at every shot. They loved and trusted their commander, were proud of their ship, and burned to avenge the wrongs to which many had been subjected, for the merchant service had furnished almost half their number.
As soon as Hull took in his sail the stranger backed her main-topsail yard, and slowly came up into the wind. Then it could be seen that her men were all at quarters also. Hull raised his flag. Immediately in response up went to every mast-head of the waiting ship the red cross of old England. It was growing late in the afternoon, the breeze had freshened, and the white-caps had begun to jump on every side. The crew of the Constitution broke into three ringing cheers as their grand old craft bore down upon the enemy. When almost within range the English let go
