To study the condition of affairs that led up to the declaration of the second war against Great Britain we have but to turn to the sea. Although England, it must be confessed, had plenty of fighting on her hands and troubles enough at home, she had not forgotten the chagrin and disappointments caused by the loss of the American colonies through a mistaken enforcement of high-handedness. And it was this same tendency that brought to her vaunted and successful navy as great an overthrow as their arms had received on land some thirty-seven years previously.

The impressment of American seamen into the English service had been continued despite remonstrances from our government, until the hatred for the sight of the cross of St. George that stirred the hearts of Yankee sailor men had passed all bounds. America under these conditions developed a type of patriot seafarer, and this fact may account for his manners under fire and his courage in all circumstances.

The United States was an outboard country, so to speak. We had no great interstate traffic, no huge, developed West to draw upon, to exchange and barter with. Our people thronged the sea-coast, and vessels made of American pine and live-oak were manned by American men. They had sought their calling by choice, and not by compulsion. They had not been driven from crowded cities because they could not live there. They had not been taken from peaceful homes and wives and children by press-gangs, as was the English custom, to slave on board the great vessels that Great Britain kept afloat by such means, and such alone. But of his own free-will the Yankee sailor sought the sea, and of his own free-will he served his country. It would be useless to deny that the greater liberty, the higher pay, the large chance for reward, tempted many foreigners and many ex-servants of the king to cast their lot with us. But when we think that there were kept unwillingly on English vessels of war almost as many American seamen as were giving voluntary service to their country in our little navy, we can see on which side the great proportion lies.

It is easy to see that the American mind was a pent furnace. It only needed a few more evidences of England’s injustice and contempt to make the press and public speech roar with hatred and cry out for revenge. So when in June, 1812, war was declared against Great Britain, it was hailed with approbation and delight. But shots had been exchanged before this, and there were men who knew the value of seamanship, recognized the fact that every shot must tell, that every man must be ready, and that to the navy the country looked; for the idea of a great invasion by England was scouted. It was a war for the rights of sailors, the freedom of the high-seas, and the grand and never thread-worn principles of liberty.

So wide-spread had been the patriotism of our citizens during the revolutionary war that our only frigates, except those made up of aged merchant-vessels, had been built by private subscription; but now the government was awake, alert, and able.

To take just a glance at the condition of affairs that led up to this is of great interest.

So far back as the year 1798 the impositions of Great Britain upon our merchantmen are on record, and on November 16th of that year they culminated in a deliberate outrage and insult to our flag.

The U. S. ship of war Baltimore, of 20 guns, was overhauled by a British squadron, and five American seamen were impressed from the crew. At this time we were engaged in the quasi-war with France, during which the Constellation, under Captain Truxton, captured the French frigate L’Insurgent, of 54 guns. On February 1st, 1800, a year after the first action, the same vessel, under the same commander, captured La Vengeance, of 54 guns. On October 12th of the same year the U. S. frigate Boston captured the French corvette Le Berceau. Minor actions between the French privateers and our merchantmen occurred constantly. We lost but one of our national vessels, however—the schooner Retaliation, captured by two French frigates.

England was protecting the Barbary pirates in the Mediterranean at this time, in order to keep out competitive commerce—a fine bit of business! Europe and America bought immunity.

On June 10th, 1801, war was declared, however, by the Bashaw of Tripoli against the United States, because we failed to accede to his demands for larger tribute, and a brief summary of the conduct of this war will show plainly that here our officers had chances to distinguish themselves, and the American seamen won distinction in foreign waters.

Captain Bainbridge, in command of the frigate Philadelphia, late in August, 1803, captured off the Cape de Gatt a Moorish cruiser, and retook her prize, an American brig. About two months later the Philadelphia, in chase of one of the corsairs, ran on a reef of rocks under the guns of a battery, and after four hours’ action Bainbridge was compelled to strike his flag to the Tripolitans. For months, now, it was the single aim of the American squadron under Preble to destroy the Philadelphia, in order to prevent her being used against the United States, and on February 15th, 1804, this was successfully accomplished by Lieutenant Stephen Decatur and seventy volunteers, who entered the harbor on the ketch Intrepid, set fire to the Philadelphia, and escaped. All through August Preble’s squadron hovered about the harbor of Tripoli, and bombarded the town on four separate occasions. On June 3d, 1805, he arranged a peace with the Tripolitans, and two days later Bainbridge and the American prisoners were liberated. But the bashaw could not control the piratical cruisers who made his harbor a rendezvous, and in September hostilities were again commenced, during which occurred the sad accident, the premature blowing up of the fire ship Intrepid, by which the navy lost Captain Richard Somers, one of its bravest officers, two lieutenants, and ten seamen.

But to return to the relations existing between America and England. A crisis was fast approaching. Off the shore of Maryland on June 22d, 1807, the crowning outrage attending England’s self-assumed “right of search” took place, when the British sloop of war Leopard, 50 guns, fired upon the Chesapeake, 36 guns, which vessel, under command of Captain Barron, had just shipped a green crew, and could return, owing to her unprepared condition, but one shot to the Englishman’s broadside. Barron hauled down his flag, and had to allow himself to be searched by the orders of Captain Humphries, commander of the Leopard, and four American-born seamen were taken out of his crew and sent on board the Englishman. It was claimed by Captain Humphries that three of these men were deserters from the British frigate Melampus. Although the Chesapeake had hauled down her flag and surrendered, the Leopard paid no attention to this, and sailed away, leaving Barron with three men killed and eighteen wounded, and his ship badly damaged in hull, spars, and rigging. Barron was censured by a court of inquiry and suspended from his command. Looking at this sentence dispassionately, it was most unjust.

But the indignation that was felt throughout the country over this affair wrought the temper of the people to a fever-heat. Congress passed resolutions, and the President of the United States issued a proclamation, forbidding all British armed vessels from entering the ports of the United States, and prohibiting all inhabitants of the United States from furnishing them with supplies of any description.

Great Britain’s disavowal of the act of Admiral Berkeley (under whose command Captain Humphries had acted) was lukewarm, and the Admiral’s trial was something of a farce, and gave little satisfaction to America.

Napoleon at about this time had begun his senseless closing of French ports to American vessels, and once more the French cruisers apparently considered all Yankee craft their proper prey. They would interrupt and take from them stores, water, or whatever they considered necessary, without remuneration or apology. As the English were taking our seamen and showing absolute contempt for our flag wherever found, the condition of our merchant marine was most precarious. No vessel felt secure upon the high seas, and yet the English merchant ships continued to ply their trade with us.

On May 1st, 1810, all French and English vessels of any description were prohibited from entering the ports of the United States. On June 24th of this year the British sloop of war Moselle fired at the U. S. brig Vixen, off the Bahamas, but fortunately did no damage. Another blow to American commerce just at this period was the closing of the ports of Prussia to American products and ships. But an event which took place on May 16th, 1811, had an unexpected termination that turned all eyes to England. The British frigate GuerriÈre was one of a fleet of English vessels hanging about our coasts, and cruising mainly along the New Jersey and Long Island shores. Commodore Rodgers was proceeding from Annapolis to New York in the President, 44 guns, when the news was brought to him by a coasting vessel that a young man, a native of New Jersey, had been taken from an American brig in the vicinity of Sandy Hook, and had been carried off by a frigate supposed to be the GuerriÈre. On the 16th, about noon, Rodgers discovered a sail standing towards him. She was made out to be a man-of-war, and concluding that she was the GuerriÈre, the commodore resolved to speak to her, and, to quote from a contemporary, “he hoped he might prevail upon her commander to release the impressed young man” (what arguments he intended to use are not stated). But no sooner had the stranger perceived the President, whose colors were flying, than she wore and stood to the southward. Rodgers took after her, and by evening was close enough to make out that she was beyond all doubt an English ship. But owing to the dusk and thick weather it was impossible to count her broadside, or to make out distinctly what was the character of the flag that at this late hour she had hoisted at her peak. So he determined to lay his vessel alongside of her within speaking distance, and find out something definite. The strange sail apparently wished to avoid this if possible, and tacked and manoeuvred incessantly in efforts to escape. At twenty minutes past eight the President, being a little forward of the weather beam of the chase, and within a hundred yards of her, Rodgers called through his trumpet with the usual hail, “What ship is that?” No answer was given, but the question was repeated from the other vessel in turn. Rodgers did not answer, and hailed again. To his intense surprise a shot was fired into the President, and this was the only response. A great deal of controversy resulted from the subsequent happenings. The English deny having fired the first gun, and assert that Rodgers was the offender, as a gun was discharged (without orders) from the American vessel almost at the same moment. Now a brisk action commenced with broadsides and musketry. But the commodore, noticing that he was having to deal with a very inferior force, ceased firing, after about ten minutes of exchanging shots. He was premature in this, however, as the other vessel immediately renewed her fire, and the foremast of the President was badly injured by two thirty-two-pound shot. By this time the wind had blown up fresh, and there was a heavy sea; but notwithstanding this fact and the growing darkness, a well-directed broadside from the President silenced the other’s fire completely. Rodgers approached again, and to his hail this time there was given some reply. Owing to his being to windward, he did not catch the words, although he understood from them that his antagonist was a British ship. All night long Rodgers lay hove to under the lee of the stranger, displaying lights, and ready at any moment to respond to any call for assistance, as it had been perceived that the smaller vessel was badly crippled.

At daylight the President bore down to within speaking distance and an easy sail, and Rodgers sent out his first cutter, under command of Lieutenant Creighton, to learn the name of the ship and her commander, and with instructions to ascertain what damage she had received, and to “regret the necessity which had led to such an unhappy result.” Lieutenant Creighton returned with the information that the British captain declined accepting any assistance, and that the vessel was His Britannic Majesty’s sloop of war Little Belt, 18 guns. She had nine men killed and twenty-two wounded. No one was killed on board the President, and only a cabin-boy had been wounded in the arm by a splinter.

The account given to his government by Captain Bingham, of the Little Belt, gives the lie direct to the sworn statement of the affair, confirmed by all the officers and crew of the President, an account, by-the-way, that after a long and minute investigation was sustained by the American courts. It was now past doubting that open war would shortly follow between this country and England. Preparations immediately began in every large city to outfit privateers, and the navy-yards rang with hammers, and the recruiting officers were besieged by hordes of sailor men anxious to serve a gun and seek revenge.

Owing to circumstances, the year of 1812, that gave the name to the war of the next three years, found the country in a peculiar condition. Under the “gunboat system” of Mr. Jefferson, who believed in harbor protection, and trusted to escape war, an act had been passed in 1805 which almost threatened annihilation of a practical navy. The construction of twenty-five gunboats authorized by this bill had been followed, from time to time, by the building of more of them under the mistaken idea that this policy was a national safeguard. They would have been of great use as a branch of coast fortification at that time, it may be true, but they were absolutely of no account in the prosecution of a war at sea. Up to the year 1811 in the neighborhood of two hundred of these miserable vessels had been constructed, and they lay about the harbors in various conditions of uselessness.

From an official statement it appears that there were but three first-class frigates in our navy, and that but five vessels of any description were in condition to go to sea. They were the President, 44 guns; the United States, 44 guns; the Constitution, 44 guns; the Essex, 32 guns; and the Congress, 36 guns. All of our sea-going craft taken together were but ten in number, and seven of these were of the second class and of inferior armament. There was not a single ship that did not need extensive repairs, and two of the smaller frigates, the New York and the Boston, were condemned upon examination. The navy was in a deplorable state, and no money forthcoming.

But the session of Congress known as the “war session” altered this state of affairs, and in the act of March 13th, 1812, we find the repudiation of the gunboat policy, and the ridiculous error advanced, to our shame be it said, by some members of Congress, that “in creating a navy we are only building ships for Great Britain,” was cast aside. Not only did the act provide for putting the frigates into commission and preparing them for actual service, but two hundred thousand dollars per annum was appropriated for three years for ship timber. The gunboats were laid up “for the good of the public service,” and disappeared. Up to this period all the acts of Congress in favor of the navy had been but to make hasty preparations of a few vessels of war to meet the pressure of some emergency, but no permanent footing had been established. The conduct and the result of the war with Tripoli had not been such as to make the American Navy popular, despite the individual brave deeds that had taken place and the respect for the flag that had been enforced abroad. But the formation of a “naval committee” was a step in the right direction. There was a crisis to be met, the country was awake to the necessity, and the feelings of patriotism had aroused the authorities to a pitch of action. Many men, the ablest in the country, were forced into public life from their retirement, and a combination was presented in the House of Representatives and in the Senate that promised well for the conduct of affairs. The Republican party saw that there was no more sense in the system of restriction, and that the only way to redress the wrongs of our sailors was by war.

Langdon Cheves was appointed chairman of this Committee of Naval Affairs of the Twelfth Congress, and took hold of the work assigned to him with energy and judgment. There was some slight opposition given by people who doubted our power and resources to wage war successfully against Great Britain, but this opposition was overwhelmed completely at the outset. The report of the naval committee shows that the naval establishments of other countries had been carefully looked into, and experienced and intelligent officers had been called upon for assistance; that the needs and resources of the country had been accurately determined, and the result was that the committee expressed the opinion “that it was the true policy of the United States to build up a navy establishment as the cheapest, the safest, and the best protection to their sea-coast and to their commerce, and that such an establishment was inseparably connected with the future prosperity, safety, and glory of the country.”

The bill which was introduced and drafted by the committee recommended that the force to be created should consist of frigates and sloops of war to be built at once, and that those already in commission be overhauled and refitted. To quote from the first bill for the increase of the navy, communicated to the House of Representatives September 17th, 1811 (which antedated the final act of March 13th, 1812), Mr. Cheves says for the committee: “We beg leave to recommend that all the vessels of war of the United States not now in service, which are worthy of repair, be immediately repaired, fitted out, and put into actual service; that ten additional frigates, averaging 38 guns, be built; that a competent sum of money be appropriated for the purchase of a stock of timber, and that a dock for repairing the vessels of war of the United States be established in some central and convenient place.” There was no dock in the country at this date, and vessels had to be “hove down” to repair their hulls—an expensive and lengthy process.

A large number of experiments had also been made during this year in reference to the practical use of the torpedo. They were conducted in the city and harbor of New York, under the supervision of Oliver Walcott, John Kent, Cadwallader B. Colden, John Garnet, and Jonathan Williams. Suggestions were also made for the defence of vessels threatened by torpedo attack in much the same method that is employed to this date—by nets and booms. Mr. Colden says in a letter addressed to Paul Hamilton, Secretary of the Navy, in reference to the experiments with Mr. Fulton’s torpedoes, “I cannot but think that if the dread of torpedoes were to produce no other effect than to induce every hostile vessel of war which enters our ports to protect herself in a way in which the Argus (the vessel experimented with) was protected, torpedoes will be no inconsiderable auxiliaries in the defence of our harbors.” Strange to say, a boom torpedo rigged to the end of a boom attached to the prow of a cutter propelled by oars was tried, and is to this day adopted in our service, in connection with fast steam-launches. All this tends to show the advancing interest in naval warfare. Paul Hamilton suggested, in a letter dated December 3d, 1811, that “a naval force of twelve sails of the line (74’s) and twenty well-constructed frigates, including those already in commission, would be ample to protect the coasting trade”; but there was no provision in the bill as finally accepted, and no authority given for the construction of any line of battle ships, although Mr. Cheves referred in his speech to the letter from Secretary Hamilton. Plans were also made this year to form a naval hospital, a much-needed institution.

When war was declared by Congress against Great Britain, on June 18th, 1812, and proclaimed by the President of the United States the following day, the number of vessels, exclusive of those projected and building, was as follows:

As we have stated before, the Boston, that was burned afterwards at Washington, never put to sea, and the New York was a worthless hulk.

The Constitution, the United States, and the Constellation were built in the year 1797, the Constitution at Boston, the United States at Philadelphia, and the Constellation at Baltimore. They had been built in the most complete manner, and it might be of interest to give some figures in connection with the construction of these vessels, thus forming an idea of how they compare with the tremendous and expensive fighting-machines of today. The first cost of the Constitution was $302,718. Her annual expenses when in commission were $100,000. Her pay-roll per month was in the neighborhood of $5000. There had been spent in repairs upon the Constitution from October 1st, 1802, to October 1st, 1811, the sum of $302,582—almost as much as her original cost, it is thus seen; but upon the outbreak of the war only $5658 had to be spent upon her to fit her for sea. The first cost of a small vessel like the Wasp, carrying 18 guns, was $60,000; the annual expense in commission, $38,000.

Although the Constitution was in such good shape, the Chesapeake and the Constellation were not seaworthy, and required $120,000 apiece to be expended on them before they would be considered ready for service.

An American 44-gun frigate carried about 400 men. The pay appears ridiculously small, captains receiving but $100; masters-commandant, $75 a month; lieutenants’ pay was raised from $40 to $60. Midshipmen drew $19, an ordinary seaman $10, and a private of marines but $6 a month.

A 44-gun frigate was about 142 feet long, 38 feet 8 inches in breadth, and drew from 17 to 23 feet of water, according to her loading. An 18-gun sloop of war was between 110 and 122 feet in length, and drew 15 feet of water.

At the time of the declaration of war the officers holding captains’ commissions were: Alexander Murray, John Rodgers, James Barron (suspended), William Bainbridge, Hugh G. Campbell, Stephen Decatur, Thomas Tingey, Charles Stewart, Isaac Hull, Isaac Chauncey, John Shaw, John Smith—there was one vacancy. On the pay-rolls as masters-commandant we find David Porter, Samuel Evans, Jacob Jones, and James Lawrence.

It is hard to imagine nowadays the amount of bitterness, the extreme degree of hatred, that had grown up between America and Great Britain. Before the outbreak of hostilities, smarting under the defeats of ’76 and the struggle of the following years, with few exceptions English officers burned to show their contempt for the service of the new country whose flag was being sent about the world. During the presence of the American fleets under Preble and Bainbridge in the Mediterranean, insults were frequently forced upon them by the English. An anecdote which brings in one of our nation’s heroes will show plainly to what extent this feeling existed. From an American vessel of war anchored at Malta a number of the junior officers had obtained shore leave; among them was a tall, handsome lad, the brother of the commander of the Philadelphia. Orders had been given for the young gentlemen to mind their own affairs, to keep close together, and to pay no attention to the treatment they might receive from the officers of the English regiments or navy. Owing to the custom then holding, the man who had not fought a duel or killed a man in “honorable” meeting was an exception, even in our service. There was no punishment for duelling in either the army or navy, even if one should kill a member of his own mess, so there may be some excuse for the disobedience, or, better, disregard, of the order given to the midshipmen before they landed. There was an English officer at Malta, a celebrated duellist, who stated to a number of his friends, when he was informed that the American young gentlemen had landed, that he would “bag one of the Yankees before ten the next morning.” He ran across them in the lobby of a playhouse, and, rudely jostling the tallest and apparently the oldest, he was surprised at having his pardon begged, as if the fault had been the other’s. So he repeated his offence, and emphasized it by thrusting his elbow in “the Yankee’s” face.

This was too much. The tall midshipman whipped out his card, the Englishman did likewise. A few words and it was all arranged. “At nine the next morning, on the beach below the fortress.” As he turned, the middy saw one of his senior lieutenants standing near him. He knew that it would be difficult to get ashore in the morning, and he made up his mind that, as the chances were he would never return to his ship at all, he would not go back to her that night. But what was his dismay when the officer approached and ordered him and all of his party to repair on board their vessel. Of course the rest of the youngsters knew what had occurred, and they longed to see how their comrade would get out of the predicament. He had to be on shore! But as he sat in the stern-sheets the lieutenant, not so many years his senior, bent forward. “I shall go ashore with you at nine o’clock to-morrow, if you will allow me that honor,” he said, quietly. Now this young officer was a hero with the lads in the steerage, and the middy’s courage rose.

At nine o’clock the next morning he stood in a sheltered little stretch of beach with a pistol in his hand, and at the word “Fire!” he shot the English bully through the heart. The midshipman’s name was Joseph Bainbridge, a brother of the Bainbridge of Constitution fame, and his second upon this occasion was Stephen Decatur.

This encounter was but one of many such that took place on foreign stations between American and English officers. The latter at last became more respectful of the Yankees’ feelings, be it recorded.

The following series of articles is not intended as a history of the navy, but as a mere account of the most prominent actions in which the vessels of the regular service participated. Two affairs in which American privateers took part are introduced, but of a truth the doings of Yankee privateersmen would make a history in themselves.

It will be noticed that the names of several vessels occur frequently, and we can see how the Constitution won for herself the proudest title ever given to a ship—“Old Ironsides”—and how the victories at sea united the American nation as one great family in rejoicing or in grief. To this day there will be found songs and watchwords in the forecastles of our steel cruisers that were started at this glorious period. “Remember the Essex!” “Don’t give up the ship!” “May we die on deck!” are sayings that have been handed down, and let us hope that they will live forever.