Cruise of Commodore Porter in the Essex — Arrival at Valparaiso — Capture of British whalers and letters of marque — Essex Junior — Marquesas Islands — Description of the natives — Madison Island — War with the Happahs — Invades the Typee territory — Tedious march — Beautiful prospect — Fights the natives and burns down their towns — Sails for Valparaiso — Blockaded by two English ships — Attempts to escape — Is attacked by both vessels — His gallant defence — His surrender — Returns home on parole — Insolence of an English Officer — Porter escapes in an open boat and lands on Long Island — Enthusiastic reception in New York.

An expedition similar in its unity to that of Jackson's, and hence requiring a connected narrative, was carried forward by Captain Porter during the year 1813 in the Pacific Ocean. When Commodore Bainbridge sailed from Boston with the Constitution and Hornet, Porter, then lying in the Delaware with the Essex, was ordered to join him at Port Praya in St. Jago, or at Fernando Noronha. Oct. 26, 1812. The capture of the Java by the Constitution, and of the Peacock by the Hornet, caused a change in the plans of Bainbridge, and Captain Porter, not finding him or the Hornet at either of the two places mentioned, or off Frio, a rendezvous afterwards designated by the Commodore, he was left to cruise where he thought best. Dec. 12. While searching for these vessels, he captured an English government packet with $55,000 in specie on board, and sent her home.

Jan. 1813.

At length, after revolving various schemes in his mind, he took the bold resolution to go alone into the Pacific, where we had not a depÔt of any kind, or a place in which a disabled vessel could be refitted, while all the neutral ports were under the influence of our enemy, and make a dash at the British fishermen. The vessels employed in these fisheries he knew were invariably supplied with naval stores, etc., and he resolved to live on them. This original and daring cruise was no sooner decided upon than he turned his prow southward, and was soon wrapt in the storms that sweep Cape Horn. Jan. 28. Again and again beaten back, as if to deter him from his hazardous course, he still held on, and at length, after a most tempestuous and toilsome passage, took the breezes of the Pacific and stretched northward. March 5. His provisions getting short, and being in want of some new rigging, he determined to run into Valparaiso. On his arrival at that port he found, to his astonishment and delight, that Chili had declared herself free of Spain, and his reception was kind and courteous. Here he learned, also, that Peru had sent out cruisers against American shipping, which, together with British letters of marque, threatened to make destructive work with our whalers. He therefore remained only a week in port, and then steered northward. On the 25th he captured one of the Peruvian cruisers, which, with an English vessel, had seized two American whalers a few days before.[2] Four days after, he recaptured the Barclay, one of the American vessels taken by the Peruvians, and the British letter of marque. Looking into Callao to see if any thing had arrived from Valparaiso since he left, he cruised from island to island till the latter part of April without making any prizes. At length, on the morning of the 29th, three sail were discerned and chase was immediately made for the nearest, which soon struck. She was a British whaler with fourteen hundred barrels of oil on board. It having fallen calm when the Essex was yet eight miles distant from the other vessels, he was compelled to resort to his boats to effect their capture. One of these, the Georgiana, Captain Porter equipped as a cruiser, with sixteen guns, and put her under the command of Lieutenant Downes, who soon started on a cruise of his own. June 24.

These two vessels joined company again at Tumbez, the Essex in the mean time having captured two large British vessels, and the Georgiana three. The Atlantic, one of those taken by Porter, being a much larger and faster ship than the Georgiana, Lieutenant Downes was transferred to her, and she was christened Essex Junior. On the last day of June this little fleet of nine sail put to sea, and on the 4th of July fired a general salute with the enemy's powder. A few days after, the Essex Junior parted company, steering for Valparaiso with all the prizes but two in company. Porter continued his cruise with the Georgiana and Greenwich, and on the 13th captured three more vessels. The Greenwich behaved gallantly in the action, closing courageously with the largest vessel, a cruiser, while the Essex was led away in chase of the first. Porter soon after captured another whaler, when, being joined by the Essex Junior, bringing information that the Chilian government was assuming a more unfriendly attitude towards the Americans, he resolved to proceed to the Marquesas to refit, and return home. Having made the vessels of the enemy answer for a naval depÔt, he now sought the bay of an island inhabited by savages, where unseen he could prepare to retrace his voyage of ten thousand miles.

He made the Marquesas Islands on the 23d of October. Winding among them to find a hiding-place secure as possible against English war vessels that he heard had been sent out to capture him, he at length dropped anchor in the sequestered bay of Novaheevah and took possession of it in the name of the United States, naming it Madison Island. In a short time the native women came swimming off naked to the ship in crowds, and as they climbed up the vessel's sides, the sailors, astonished at the novel spectacle, threw them their handkerchiefs to cover their persons. Though swarthy, many of them possessed beautiful forms and handsome features. Apparently wholly unconscious of those feelings of modesty which seem innate in the sex, they received with pride the advances of the men, and in a short time every petty officer had chosen his wife, and the long and tedious confinement on ship-board was exchanged for unbridled license.

A year before, Porter had sailed from the United States alone, with only a few months' provisions on board, and in the mean time had taken thirteen vessels and four hundred prisoners. With but a single imperfect chart to direct him, he had boldly threaded the islands of the Pacific, and swept it of nearly all the enemy's ships. His journal of this long cruise reads more like a romance than a logbook, and seems to belong to that class of literature in which Robinson Crusoe and Captain Kidd figure as heroes. That frigate dropping down the Delaware in October, the autumn previous, and now riding at anchor, with a large fleet about her, in a deserted bay amid the Marquesas Islands, presents a striking contrast, and shows what a single brave, energetic, and skillful officer can accomplish.

In a short time those quiet waters resounded with the hammer of the workmen, and were filled with the stir and activity of a civilized port.

The nations were at first friendly, but those occupying the valley where Porter had landed being at war with another tribe, the Happahs, they insisted that he should make common cause with them against their enemies. This, at last, for the sake of peace, he was compelled to do, and sent a party of sailors, under Lieutenant Downes, to assist them in their invasion of the enemy's territory. The hostile tribe had assembled to the number of three or four thousand, but Downes soon scattered them and returned with five dead bodies, which his allies brought back in triumph, slung on poles.

In the mean time Captain Porter built a small village, consisting of several houses, a bakery, and rope-walk, and erected a fort which he mounted with four guns.

At length the Typees, a warlike tribe, succeeded in exciting the friendly tribes to hostilities, and a plan was rapidly maturing to murder the American crews. Presents and requests to induce them to maintain a peaceful attitude, only increased their arrogance, and Porter at last resolved to make them feel his power. Accompanied by thirty-five sailors he advanced into their country, but the natives avoided a combat and retired into the mountain fastnesses. The next day he took nearly his whole crew and boldly entered the mountains, whose bald tops swarmed with thousands of savages. But to his surprise, he suddenly came to a wall seven feet high flanked with impenetrable thickets. Behind this the Typees made a bold stand, and hurled stones and arrows against their assailants. The volleys of the Americans produced but little effect, and Porter discovering at length that his ammunition was nearly exhausted, sent Lieutenant Gamble to the boats for more, while he, with only nineteen sailors, maintained his position. On the return of Gamble it was thought best to retreat, and the whole took up their backward march. The savages, elated with their victory, pressed forward in pursuit, when Porter gave them a volley which killed two and wounded several more. Coming to a river, the Americans heard the snapping of slings in the thickets on the bank, and immediately after, a shower of stones fell among them, one of which fractured the leg of Lieutenant Downes. Weary and disappointed, they at length reached the boats. Here they rested till night, when they were again ordered forward. The moon shone bright as this little column slowly and painfully climbed the heights, from whose summits arose the yells and songs of the savages. As the party advanced, the sterile region grew more dreary and broken, and the prospect ahead more disheartening. Now wading foaming torrents, and again creeping along dizzy precipices, the astonished sailors, unaccustomed to such labors, became exhausted, and many dropped down amid the rocks unable to proceed further. At length the summit, from which the valley of the Typees could be seen, was reached. But in the mean time the sky had become overcast, the moon was obscured, and the guide declared it would be impossible to descend in the darkness. They therefore laid down, where they were, to wait for morning.

Those American sailors reposing on the top of the Typee mountain, in that remote and almost unknown region, presented a novel spectacle. An impenetrable gloom hung over the valley beneath, the sky spread like a pall above them, while the dull, heavy roar of the Pacific, as its billows broke in the darkness far below them, added to the strangeness and romance of the scene. At length the gathering storm burst, and the rain fell in torrents. It was a tropical shower—one of those deluges of the skies, and in a few moments the little band was flooded with water. Porter, fearing the ammunition would all be spoiled, bade every man protect it with the utmost care. The Typees, assembled in the valley below to the number of four or five thousand, appeared to entertain the same expectations, for they began to shout and beat their drums in exultation.

At length the long wished for day dawned—the storm had ceased, and as the light crept down the sides of the mountain, a scene of surpassing beauty presented itself. A valley nine miles long and three broad, lay spread out before them, inclosed on every side by high mountains. At the farther extremity arose a lofty precipice, over whose brink a torrent rushed in a flying leap, and falling in foam at the base, formed a stream, which, after winding tranquilly through the green and lovely valley, passed, by an opening in the mountains, into the Pacific, that, far away, rolled and glittered in the early dawn. All over this sequestered plain were scattered the breadfruit and cocoa trees, while picturesque villages of bamboo dotted it in every direction. Amid these, immense crowds of swarthy men were moving, and animals grazing, giving life and animation to the strange and beautiful panorama.

Firing a volley, to let the enemy know his powder was not destroyed, Porter began the difficult descent. The tortuous course he was compelled to pursue made the journey long and tedious, and that night he encamped in a village of friendly natives. The next morning he moved on the Typee towns. The natives at first closed bravely with him, but frightened by the musketry they soon retreated, followed by the sailors. Retiring from village to village, they at last took refuge in a strong fortress, against which small arms could have no effect. Porter then began the work of destruction, and soon nine villages were wrapt in fire. As the flames and smoke rolled up from the plain, he began his backward march to the ships. At sunset he stood again on the mountain where he had reposed the night before, and looked down on the valley, but it was now a scene of desolation. The smoke curling slowly up from the ruins revealed where the Typee towns had stood, while around the smouldering ashes the inhabitants were gathered in consternation and despair.

Porter reached his boats in safety, having marched sixty miles in all. The sailors, unaccustomed to such land duty, were completely broken down with the fatigue and exposure.

This novel expedition succeeded in humbling the hostile tribes, and Porter had no further trouble with them while he remained.

The burning of these villages furnished the English papers a subject for the exercise of their philanthropy. An act of self-preservation by which a few empty wigwams were destroyed, aroused the humanity of those who could see no cause of complaint in the conflagration that lighted up the Niagara river from Buffalo to the falls, and kept the Chesapeake in a glow from burning farm-houses and villages.

Dec. 12, 1813.

Leaving behind him three prizes under the protection of the fort he had erected, Porter set sail for Valparaiso, where he arrived the 12th of January. Although it was evident that the sympathies of the Chilian government had changed, and were now entirely with the English, he determined to wait at that port for the Phoebe, an English ship, which he understood had been sent out on purpose to capture him. She at length arrived, but not alone—the Cherub, a sloop of war bearing her company. These vessels bore flags with the mottoes on them "God and our country—British sailors' best rights—traitors offend them." Porter immediately hoisted at his mizen, "God, our country and liberty; tyrants offend them." The Essex could doubtless have made good her voyage home, but Porter in capturing merchantmen and whalers had done nothing in his own view to distinguish himself, and he longed to grapple with this English ship of war. But the vast superiority of these two vessels to his own and the Essex Junior, forbade a combat unless he was forced into it.

When the Phoebe, commanded by Captain Hillyar, came into port she passed close to the Essex with her men at quarters. Porter hailed her, saying the vessels would get foul, and requesting the officers in command to keep off. The English captain declared he had no intention of provoking an action, but his conduct arousing the suspicion of Porter he summoned the boarders. In the mean time the English vessel being taken aback, passed her bows directly over the decks of the Essex, and she lay exposed to a raking broadside from the latter, and was for the time completely at her mercy. There is scarcely a doubt that Captain Hillyar had orders to attack the Essex wherever he found her, even if in a neutral port, and if the positions of the two vessels had been reversed he would not have hesitated to demolish the American frigate. The whole proceeding justified Porter in such a construction, and his broadsides should have anticipated those of the enemy, which soon after left him a wreck.

The English ships having taken in supplies, cruised outside for six weeks, completely blockading the Essex. Porter saw that his vessel could outsail the enemy, but he was not anxious to escape. He wished if possible, notwithstanding his inferiority in men and weight of metal, to engage the Phoebe alone. In this Captain Hillyar would not gratify him. Once Porter got within range and opened his fire on the Phoebe, but her gallant commander, though his vessel was a thirty-six, while the Essex was a thirty-two, and his crew mustered one hundred more men, refused the challenge and dropped nearly three miles astern to close with her consort, the Cherub. This enraged Porter, for Hillyar had hove to off port, and fired a gun to windward, which could be interpreted in no other way than as a challenge.

The former so understood it, and immediately got under way, when his adversary retired. Hillyar afterwards declared that the gun to windward was a signal to the Cherub. It was doubtless a ruse practiced to decoy the Essex into a chase till she could be assailed by both vessels at once. There can be only one of two explanations to Hillyar's conduct in this affair; he either was afraid to meet the American frigate, though the latter was inferior in force, or his instructions were not to hazard a single engagement.

Finding that his adversary was determined to avoid him, unless he could close with both his vessels at the same time, and hearing that other British cruisers were on the way, Porter resolved to put to sea, and by tempting Captain Hillyar in pursuit, give the Essex Junior, a slow sailer, an opportunity to follow. So on the 28th of March the wind blowing fresh, he stood out of port. For awhile every thing promised a safe exit, and an open sea, where he would have defied the enemy. But in doubling the Point of Angels to clear the harbor, a squall struck the vessel, carrying away her main-top-mast, and with it several men, who were drowned. Unable to go to sea in this crippled condition, and unable also to beat back to his former anchorage, he passed to the north-eastern side of the harbor and dropped his anchor within three miles of the town, a mile and a half from the Castello Viego, and close in shore. He was on neutral ground, as much so by the law of nations, as if under the guns of the castle, and where, in the same circumstances, at the present day, no nation on the globe would dare fire into an American frigate; and yet Captain Hillyar moved down on her with both his vessels, chose his position, and opened his broadsides. Only one of two measures was therefore left to the American commander—strike his flag at once, or fight his ship to the last. To conquer he knew was impossible, still he could not give up his vessel without an effort, and he sternly ordered the decks cleared for action.

The two English vessels, although they had chosen their own position, were in a short time so cut up by the deadly aim of the gunners of the Essex that they hauled off for repairs.

The state of affairs having got wind, thousands of spectators assembled on the surrounding heights to witness the combat. Porter's situation was well nigh hopeless, but he was one of those few men whom desperate circumstances only stimulate to greater exertions. Fortune, as if envious of his long success, seemed determined to crush him. Yet he resolved that what adverse fate got out of him, should be on terms that would cover him with more glory than ordinary success could possibly do.

Captain Hillyar having completed his repairs, again took his position where the Essex could not bring a gun to bear. Porter finding himself a mere target on the water, determined if possible to board the Phoebe. But his sheets and halyards had been so shot away that not a sail could be set, except the flying jib. Giving this to wind and cutting his cable, he drove slowly down on his foes, and when he got them within range of his carronades, opened a terrible fire. The cannonade on both sides was incessant and awful. The Essex on fire, almost a wreck, and swept by the broadsides of two vessels, still bore steadily down to close, but the Cherub hauled off, while the Phoebe, seeing the advantage she possessed with her long guns, when out of the reach of carronades, kept edging away. It was a painful spectacle to behold, that crippled, dismantled ship, bravely limping up to grapple with her powerful adversary, and that adversary as slowly moving off and pouring in the while a ceaseless, murderous fire. Hulled at almost every shot, her decks ripped up and strewed with the dead, her guns torn from their carriages and rendered useless, it was evident that noble frigate could not be fought much longer. Still Porter would not strike his flag, and he resolved to run his vessel ashore and blow her up. Her head was turned towards the beach, and he had got within musket-shot of it, when the wind suddenly veered and blew him back on the Phoebe and under her raking broadsides. Foiled in his first effort, he now for a moment hoped to get foul and board the enemy, but she kept away, raking the Essex as she retired. The scene on board the frigate at this time was horrible. The cock-pit was crowded with the wounded—men by the dozens were mowed down at every discharge—fifteen had successively fallen at one gun, and scarcely a quarter deck officer was left standing. Amid this scene of carnage and desolation, Porter moved with a knit brow and gloomy heart. As he looked at his crippled condition and slaughtered crew, he felt that he must submit, but when he turned his eye to the flag of his country, still fluttering at the mizen, he could not give the order to strike it. The sympathies of the thousands of spectators that covered the hill-top were with him—as they ever are with the brave. The American consul hastened to the governor of the city and claimed the protection of the batteries for the Essex, but in vain. It had, no doubt, been all arranged beforehand between the authorities and the British commander. Every thing, even the elements of nature, seemed combined against this single ship. As a last resort, Porter let go his sheet anchor, which brought the head of his vessel round so that his broadsides again bore. A gleam of hope lighted up for a moment the gloom that hung over his prospects, and walking amid his bleeding crew, he encouraged the few survivors to hold on. The broadsides of the two vessels again thundered over the bay, telling with frightful effect on both vessels. But this last forlorn hope was snatched from the fated frigate—the hawser parted in the strain, and she drifted an unmanageable wreck on the water—while, to complete the horror of the scene, the flames burst from the hatchways and rolled away towards the magazine. Finding that his doom was now inevitably sealed, for his boats had all been shot away, Porter ordered those of his crew who could swim to jump overboard and make for the shore, three-quarters of a mile distant. Some reached it, while the remainder who made the attempt were either drowned or picked up by the enemy's boats. He then, with the few who preferred to share his fate, extinguished the fire, and again worked the guns that could be brought to bear. It was, however, the last feeble effort of a dying giant. The enemy could now fire more leisurely, and the water being smooth, he soon made a perfect riddle of the Essex. The crew at last entreated their commander to surrender—the contest was hopeless—the cock-pit, ward-room, steerage, and berth-deck could contain no more wounded, who were constantly killed while under the surgeon's hand. Of the carpenter's crew not one remained to stop the shot-holes, through which the water was pouring in streams, and the entire vessel was a wreck. Porter would have sunk with his flag flying, but for the number of wounded who would thus perish with him. For their sakes he finally consented to surrender, and ordered the officers of the different divisions to be sent for, but to his amazement only one was left to answer his call,[3] while out of two hundred and fifty-five men only seventy-five were left fit for duty. This unexampled and murderous combat had lasted nearly two hours and a half, and he gave the melancholy order to lower the flag. The enemy not at first observing it, kept up his fire. Porter, thinking it was his intention to give no quarter, was about to hoist his flag again, and go down with it flying, when the firing ceased.

A ship was never fought more bravely or skilfully, and Porter, though compelled to surrender, earned imperishable renown, and set an example to our navy, which if followed, will ensure its success, and cover it with glory. Captain Hillyar's conduct after the victory, was distinguished by a courtesy and delicacy rarely witnessed in English commanders at that time. But he was blameworthy in attacking a ship in a neutral port, and it would not take many such victories to ruin his reputation. The whole transaction shows what little respect England paid to the laws of neutrality. The national heart was exceedingly shocked at the violation of those laws by Napoleon when he seized the Duke D'Enghien, but she could give orders, the execution of which did not cause the death of merely one man, but more than one hundred brave spirits, on neutral territory. The authorities of Valparaiso were also guilty of a base act in not defending the rights of their own port, and extending the protection required by the laws of nations to the American vessel.

1814.

The Essex Junior was transformed into a cartel, and the prisoners sent in her to the United States, on parole. She arrived off Sandy Hook the 5th of July, and though provided with passports from Captain Hillyar, to prevent a recapture, she was overhauled and detained by the British ship Saturn. Captain Nash, the commander, at first treated Porter very civilly, endorsed his passports, and allowed the vessel to proceed. Standing on the same tack with the Essex, he kept her company for two hours, when he ordered the former to heave to again, and her papers brought on board for re-examination. Porter was indignant at this proceeding, but he was told that his passport must not only go on board the Saturn, but the vessel itself be detained. He remonstrated, declaring that it was in direct violation of the contract entered into with Captain Hillyar, and he should consider himself a prisoner of Captain Nash's, and no longer on parole, and at the same time offered to deliver up his sword. On being told that the vessel must remain under the lee of the Saturn all night, he said, "then I am your prisoner, and do not feel myself bound any longer by my agreement with Captain Hillyar." He withdrew his parole at once, declaring he should act as he saw fit. The English captain evidently suspected some Yankee trick was at the bottom of the whole proceeding, and as it usually happened during the war, suspicion was aroused at precisely the wrong times. English vessels had been so often duped by Yankee shrewdness that they were constantly on the alert, and hence to be safe, often committed blunders of a grave character. Porter, whether treading the quarter-deck of his own vessel or a prisoner of war, was not a man to be trifled with, and as a British officer had treated him basely, he determined to be free of the obligations that galled him, at all hazards, and the next morning finding that he was off Long Island, and that Captain Nash had no idea of releasing him, he ordered a boat lowered, into which he jumped with an armed crew, and pushed off. As he went down the vessel's side, he told Lieutenant Downs to say to Captain Nash, "that he was now satisfied that most British naval officers were not only destitute of honor, but regardless of the honor of each other; that he was armed and should fight any force sent against him, to the last, and if he met him again, it would be as an enemy." Keeping the Essex Junior between him and the British vessel, he got nearly out of gun-shot before he was discovered. The Saturn immediately gave chase, but a fog suddenly rising, concealed the boat, when Porter changed his course and eluded his pursuers. Lieutenant Downs, taking advantage of the same fog endeavored to escape with his vessel, but the Saturn suspecting his movements, opened her guns, which brought him to. Porter heard the firing, and kept off in an opposite direction, and by rowing and sailing, alternately, for nearly sixty miles, in an open boat, at length reached Babylon, on Long Island. The people there discredited his story. Suspecting he was an English officer in disguise, they began to question him, and he was compelled to show his commission before they would let him go. When their doubts were at length removed, every attention was lavished upon him, and he started for New York. His arrival was soon spread abroad, and as the carriage that contained him entered the city the horses were snatched away, and the people seizing it, dragged him through the streets with huzzas and shouts of welcome.

Porter had lost his ship, but not his place in the heart of the nation, nay he was deeply and forever fixed there. His cruise had been a great triumph, notwithstanding its disastrous close. The boldness and originality of its conception—the daring and gallant manner in which he had carried it out—the spirit and desperation with which he had fought his ship against a superior force, were themes of universal eulogy, and endeared him to the American people.