When Captain David Porter in the “Essex” failed to meet Captain Bainbridge in the “Constitution” off the Brazilian coast, and learned that the latter had captured the “Java” and returned to the United States, he was free to make his own plans and choose his own cruising-ground.
He captured an English vessel or so, but his ambition was to make a voyage which would result in the capture of as many vessels as could be manned from the “Essex.” He thought the matter over at length and then formulated a plan which few other men would have thought of. No large war-vessel of the American government had been in the South Pacific for some years, and now the English whalers and merchantmen pursued their trade unmolested, save by a few privateers which sailed haphazard in the waters along the coast. David Porter decided to round the Horn, thus cutting himself off from his nearest base of supplies, and live the best way he might off vessels captured from the enemy.
He knew that he could not hope for a hospitable reception at any port he visited, but if he could keep his magazine and store-rooms supplied, determined to capture or destroy every vessel flying the British flag in those waters.
He started on his long voyage at the end of January, 1813, during the Southern summer season, when the gales and hurricanes in that region are at their fiercest. He had not been at sea very long before the scurvy broke out on the ship, and it was only by the most rigorous discipline and cleanliness that the disease was kept under control. By the middle of February the “Essex” reached the Cape, and, the weather having been moderately free from squalls, they were congratulating themselves on avoiding the usual dangers of those waters when a storm came up which in a short time began to blow with hurricane force. Gale succeeded gale, followed by intervals of calm, but nothing terrifying occurred until towards the end of February, when a storm which exceeded all the others in its fierceness began to blow. They were near a barren country, and, even should they reach land, there was no possible chance of escaping the slow torture of death from hunger and thirst. Great gray waves, measuring hundreds of feet from crest to crest, swept them resistlessly[134] on towards the menacing shore, which could be seen dimly through the driving spray frowning to leeward. Many of the waves broke clear over the little frigate, knocking in her ports, opening her timbers, battering her boats to pieces as they swung on the davits, and loosening her bowsprit and other spars so that they threatened at each movement to go by the board. The crew, weakened and disheartened by disease and the excess of labor, lost heart and considered the “Essex” a doomed ship. David Glascoe Farragut, then a midshipman aboard of her, afterwards wrote that never before had he seen good seamen so paralyzed by fear at the mere terrors of the sea. On the third day an enormous wave struck her fairly on the weather-bow and broadside, and she went over on her beam ends, burying her lee-bulwark in the foam. It looked for a moment as if she would never right herself. The ports on the gun-deck were all stove in and she seemed to be filling with water. The head-rails were swept away, and one of the cutters was lifted bodily from the davits and smashed against the wheel. The fellows there stood bravely at their posts, though thoroughly terrified at the position of the ship. The water poured down below, and the men on the gun-deck thought she was[135] already plunging to the bottom. The grizzly boatswain, crazy with fear, cried out in his terror,—
“The ship’s broadside is stove in! We are sinking!”
That was the greatest of their dangers, though, and better days were in store for them. Early in March the “Essex” succeeded in reaching Mocha Island, and the men, starved on half and quarter rations, were sent ashore to hunt wild hogs and horses. These were shot in numbers and salted down for food. The crew soon regained their health and spirits, and Porter sailed away for Valparaiso, putting in there to refit his damaged rigging and spars.
And now began a cruise which is numbered among the most successful in the country’s history. Porter had been at sea but a few days when he overhauled a Peruvian privateer, the “Nereyda.” To his surprise, twenty-four American sailors were found prisoners aboard of her. When asked to explain, the Peruvian captain replied that as his country was an ally of Great Britain, and that as war was soon to be declared between Spain and America, he thought he would anticipate matters and be sure of his prizes. Porter, in forcible English, explained the Peruvian’s mistake, and, to make[136] the matter more clear, threw all his guns and ammunition overboard, so that he might repent of his folly in a more diplomatic condition.
The Peruvian captain begrudgingly gave Porter a list of all the English vessels in those waters. The first one captured was the whaler “Barclay.” On the 29th of April the “Essex” took the “Montezuma,” with a cargo of fourteen hundred barrels of whale-oil. Later in the same day the “Georgiana” and the “Policy” were overhauled. These prizes, with their cargoes, in England were worth half a million dollars; but, better than money, they were plentifully supplied with ropes, spars, cordage, stores, and ammunition, of which Porter still stood badly in need.
Finding that the “Georgiana” was a fast sailer and pierced for eighteen guns, Porter decided to make use of her as a cruiser, and, fitting her up, placed Lieutenant Downes in command of her, with forty men for a crew. Then the “Essex” took the “Atlantic” and the “Greenwich.” With this very respectable squadron Porter sailed for the mainland, Lieutenant Downes in the “Georgiana” meanwhile capturing without great difficulty the “Catharine” and the “Rose.” A third vessel, the “Hector,” fought viciously, but was eventually secured after a stiff little battle.
Young Farragut had been made the prize-master of the “Barclay.” He was only twelve years old, but Captain Porter, who was very fond of him, was confident of his ability to bring the ship into port. The English captain had been persuaded to act as navigator; but once out of sight of the squadron he refused to sail for Valparaiso. He afterwards said it was merely to frighten the boy. But the boy did not frighten at all. Instead he called one of his best seamen to him and ordered sail made. Then he told the captain that if he did not go below and stay there he would have him thrown overboard. The Englishman retreated below precipitately, and Farragut brought the ship safely in, a first proof of the courage and skill he was to show in after-life. Few boys of twelve would have done it even in those days when midshipmen soon became men regardless of age.
The “Atlantic,” being reckoned the fastest vessel of her kind afloat in those waters, was now given to Downes, who had been promoted to master-commandant, and renamed the “Essex Junior.” She was given twenty guns and sixty men, and soon proved her worth. All of this time Porter had been self-supporting. Neither he nor his squadron had cost his government a penny in money, and[138] the prizes he captured, including the “Charlton,” “Seringapatam,” “New Zealand,” and “Sir Andrew Hammond,” could not be reckoned much short of a million and a half of dollars, a tremendous sum in those days, when the pay of a captain of a naval vessel was only twelve hundred dollars,—less than the pay of a boatswain to-day.
But Porter grew tired of his easy victories over merchantmen and privateers. He had succeeded in frightening the ships of the British entirely from the ocean. His one ship, a small frigate, had complete control in the South Pacific, and the Admiralty wondered at the skill and ingenuity of a man who could manage his fleets so adroitly. They determined to capture him; and two smart ships, the “Ph?be” and the “Cherub,” were sent out for this purpose. Porter heard of their coming, and was willing enough to meet them if it were possible. He went to Nukahiva, in the Marquesas Islands, to put the “Essex” in thorough repair and give his men a rest. He remained there two months, sailing near the end of the year 1813 for Valparaiso, with the hope of their meeting the English cruisers.
The “Essex” had been there but a month when the “Essex Junior,” which was cruising in the offing in anticipation of the arrival of[139] the British ships, signalled, “Two enemy’s ships in sight.” Half the crew of the “Essex” were ashore enjoying sailor-men’s liberty. Even if they all got aboard, it was fair to assume that they would be in no condition to fight should the Englishmen choose to violate the neutrality of the port by firing on them. Porter immediately fired a gun and hoisted the recall signal for all boats and men to return. The English captain, Hillyar, ran the “Ph?be” on the wind straight for the “Essex,” the “Cherub” following closely. But when they reached the anchorage, the “Essex” was ready for action and the crew were at their stations. The “Ph?be” went around under the quarter of the “Essex,” luffing up scarcely fifteen feet away. It was an exciting moment. Hillyar could see the men at their guns, and his ardor was perceptibly diminished. Had he given the order to fire then, he would have been raked fore and aft, and the tale of this last fight of the “Essex” mi............