Joel Tyler Headley

Macomb at Plattsburg — American and English fleets on Lake Champlain — Advance of Prevost — Indifference of Governor Chittenden — Rev. Mr. Wooster — Macdonough — The two battles — Funeral of the officers — British invasion of Maine — McArthur's expedition.

The gallant defence of Baltimore was still the theme of every tongue, when tidings from our northern borders swelled the enthusiasm to the highest pitch, and extinguished for a moment the remembrance of the barbarities committed at Washington.

The day before the British landed at North Point and received their first shock in the death of General Ross, the double battle of Plattsburg was fought.

Izard, when he started on his tortoise-like march, to the relief of Brown, left Colonel Macomb in command of three thousand men, not more than half of whom were fit for service. Their defeat he considered certain, and the result would have justified his prognostications, had Macomb, like him, sat down to brood over his troubles and gaze only on the difficulties that beset the army, till his confidence was gone and his energies paralyzed. But he was made of sterner stuff—difficulties only roused and developed him. Were the well men under his command few? then his defences must be the stronger, and the labor of those able to work, the more constant and exhausting.

Calling on New York and Vermont for militia, he toiled night and day at the works, and soon found himself strongly intrenched.

In the mean time, Prevost, at the head of a disciplined army of twelve thousand men, began to advance on Plattsburg. The ulterior design of this invasion of the States has never been disclosed. It is hardly possible that the British General meditated a movement similar to Burgoyne's, hoping to reach Albany. The object may have been to get entire command of Lake Champlain; and, pushing his land forces as far as Ticonderoga, there wait the development of events on the sea-coast, or by conquests along the northern boundary, create a claim to the lakes, to be enforced in the negotiations for peace.

Prevost marched slowly, cumbering the road with his heavy baggage and artillery trains as he advanced, and did not arrive at Plattsburg till the 7th of September.

This town is situated on the Saranac River, a deep and rapid stream, crossed at the time by several bridges. Abandoning that portion of it on the north shore, as untenable, Macomb withdrew his forces to the southern bank. Prevost, after a sharp action with the advance of the American army, was allowed to erect his batteries at his leisure. It took him four days to complete his works, or rather that time elapsed before the arrival of the British fleet.

Sept. 1.

In the mean time Macomb had sent an express to Governor Chittenden, of Vermont, telling him that Prevost had commenced his march on Plattsburg, and beseeching him to call out the militia to his aid. But this Federalist Governor, acting on the rebellious doctrine of Massachusetts, coldly replied that he had no authority to send militia out of the State. On the 4th, Macomb sent another express saying the army was approaching, that his force was too small to resist it, and begging for assistance. General Newell, more patriotic than the Governor, offered to take his brigade over to the help of Macomb, but the former would not sanction the movement by his authority, though he advised him to beat up for volunteers. With every feeling of patriotism deadened by the poison of the spirit of faction—every generous sentiment and sympathy apparently extinguished—deaf to the piteous plea rising from a neighboring town, he coldly entrenched himself behind a party dogma, and let the ruin and devastation sweep onward. The cannonading on the 6th, by Majors Appling and Wool, who gallantly attacked the enemy's advance, did not rouse him from his apathy.

One can hardly imagine that the call he issued for volunteers before the battle, and the stirring proclamation he made afterwards under the pressure of popular enthusiasm, emanated from the same person.

The people, however, did not require to be stimulated into patriotism by their executive. As that sullen thunder came booming over the lake, it stirred with fiery ardor the gallant sons of that noble State, who never yet turned a deaf ear to the calls of their country, and before whose stern and valorous onset the enemy's ranks have never stood unbroken. Spurning the indifference of their Governor, and trampling under foot his constitutional scruples, they flew to their homes, and snatching down their muskets and rifles, and giving a short adieu to their families, rushed to the shore, and soon the lake was covered with boats, urged fiercely forward by strong arms and willing hearts towards the spot where the heavy explosions told that their brave countrymen were struggling in unequal combat. The face of young Macomb lighted with joy as his eye fell on those bold men, and a heavy load was taken from his heart.

Among those who had previously volunteered, was the Rev. Benjamin Wooster, of Fairfield, Vermont. Responding to the call of Governor Tompkins, he put himself at the head of his parishioners and repaired to the American camp, where he endured all the privations of a common soldier. The aged members of his church and the women, when they saw him draw up his little flock on the village green, prior to their departure for the scene of conflict, assembled in the church and sent for him, saying, "We shall see you no more—come, go to the house of God and preach us a last sermon, and administer to us the holy sacrament for the last time." But fearing the effect of so touching an interview on his own decisions, he refused. Sending them an affectionate farewell, he embraced his weeping family, kissed his babes, and gently untwining their arms from his neck, turned away. On the day of battle this brave old shepherd led his fearless flock into the fire, with the serenity of a good man doing his duty.

During the summer the English at the northern, and the Americans at the southern portion of the lake, had been busy in building ships to contest the supremacy of this sheet of water, whose head pierces so deep into the bosom of New York. The latter had at length assembled a flotilla consisting of four vessels—the largest carrying twenty-six guns—and ten galleys, the whole under the command of Macdonough. After some skirmishing, this little fleet, which early in the season lay in Otter Creek, was got into the lake and steered for Plattsburg Bay, to assist Macomb in his defence of the town. This bay opens to the southward, and instead of piercing the main land at right angles, runs north, nearly parallel with the lake itself. A narrow tongue of land divides it from the main water, the extreme point of which is called Cumberland Head. Just within its mouth, and nearly opposite where the turbulent Saranac empties into it, Macdonough anchored his vessels. Sept 20. Between him and the main land was a large shoal and an island which effectually blocked the approach of vessels on that side.

The English fleet sent to attack him, consisted, also, of four vessels—the largest mounting 32 guns—and 13 galleys. The American force, all told, was 14 vessels, mounting 86 guns and carrying 850 men, while that of the English was 17 vessels, mounting 96 guns and carrying 1000 men. The largest, the Confiance, "had the gun deck of a frigate," and by her superior size and strength, and her 30 long twenty-fours, was considered a match for any two vessels in Macdonough's squadron. Captain Downie, who commanded the British fleet, joined his gun boats at the Isle au Motte on the 8th of September, where he lay at anchor till the 11th. In the mean time, Prevost, whose batteries were all erected, remained silent behind his works waiting the arrival of the fleet before he should commence his fire.

During those sleepless nights, and days of agitation, young Macdonough lay calmly watching the approach of his superior foe, while Macomb strained every nerve to complete his defences. Fearless, frank and social, the young General moved among his soldiers with such animation and confidence, that they caught his spirit, and like the Green Mountain boys and yeomanry of New York at Saratoga, resolved to defend their homes to the last.

Sept. 11.

At length, on Sunday morning, just as the sun rose over the eastern mountains, the American guard boat, on the watch, was seen rowing swiftly into the harbor. It reported the enemy in sight. The drums immediately beat to quarters, and every vessel was cleared for action. The preparations being completed, young Macdonough summoned his officers around him, and there, on the deck of the Saratoga, read the prayers of the ritual before entering into battle, and that voice, which soon after rung like a clarion amid the carnage, sent heavenward, in earnest tones, "Stir up thy strength, O Lord, and come and help us, for thou givest not always the battle to the strong, but canst save by many or by few." It was a solemn and thrilling spectacle, and one never before witnessed on a vessel of war cleared for action. A young commander who had the courage thus to brave the derision and sneers which such an act was sure to provoke, would fight his vessel while there was a plank left to stand on. Of the deeds of daring done on that day of great achievements, none evinced so bold and firm a heart as this act of religious worship.

At eight o'clock the crews of the different vessels could see, over the tongue of land that divided the bay from the lake, the topsails of the enemy moving steadily down. These had also been seen from shore, and every eminence around was covered with anxious spectators. The house of God was deserted, and the light of that bright Sabbath morning, with its early stillness, flooded a scene at once picturesque and terrible. On one side was the hostile squadron, coming down to the sound of music—on the other, stood the armies on shore in order of battle, with their banners flying—between, lay Macdonough's silent little fleet at anchor, while the hills around were black with spectators, gazing on the strange and fearful panorama.

As the British approached, Macdonough showed his signal, "Impressed seamen call on every man to do his duty." As vessel after vessel traced the letters, loud cheers rent the air.

The English vessels, under easy sail, swept one after another round Cumberland Head, and hauling up in the wind, waited the approach of the galleys.

BATTLE OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

Position of the two squadrons.

As Macdonough lay anchored with his vessels in line north and south—his galleys on their sweeps forming a second line in rear—the English fleet, as it doubled the head, was compelled to approach with bows on. The Eagle was farthest up the bay, the Saratoga second, Ticonderoga third, and Preble fourth. The impressive silence which rested on the American fleet was at last broken by the Eagle, which opened her broadsides. Startled by the sound, a cock on board the Saratoga, which had escaped from the coop, flew upon a gun slide and crowed. A loud laugh and three hearty cheers acknowledged the favorable omen, and spread confidence through the ship. Macdonough, seeing the enemy were at too great distance to be reached by his guns, reserved his fire, and watched the Confiance standing boldly on till she came within range. He then sighted a long twenty-four himself and fired her. The heavy shot passed the entire length of the deck of the Confiance, killing many of her men and shivering her wheel into fragments. This was the signal for every vessel to open its fire, and in a moment that quiet bay was in an uproar. The Confiance, however, though suffering severely, did not return a shot, but kept on till she got within a quarter of a mile, when she let go her anchors and swung broadside to the Saratoga. Sixteen long twenty-fours then opened at once with a terrific crash. The Saratoga shook from kelson to cross trees under the tremendous discharge. Nearly half of her crew were knocked down by it, while fifty men were either killed or wounded, and among them Lieutenant Gamble. He was in the act of sighting a gun, when a shot entered the port and struck him dead. The effect of this first broadside was awful, and the Saratoga was for a moment completely stunned. The next, however, she opened her fire with a precision and accuracy that told fatally on the English ship. But the latter soon commenced pouring in her broadsides so rapidly that she seemed enveloped in flame. The Eagle could not withstand it, and changed her position, falling in nearer shore, leaving the Saratoga to sustain almost alone the whole weight of the unequal contest. She gave broadside for broadside, but the weight of metal was against her, and she was fast becoming a wreck. Her deck soon presented a scene of the most frightful carnage. The living could hardly tumble the wounded down the hatchway as fast as they fell. At length, as a full broadside burst on the staggering ship, a cry of despair rang from stem to stern, "the Commodore is killed!—the Commodore is killed!" and there he lay on the blood-stained deck amid the dead, senseless, and apparently lifeless. A spar, cut in two by a cannon shot, had fallen on his back and stunned him. But after two or three minutes he recovered, and cheering on his men, took his place again beside his favorite gun that he had sighted from the commencement of the action. As the men saw him once more at his post, they took new courage.

But a few minutes after, the cry of "the Commodore is killed," again passed through the ship. Every eye was instantly turned to a group of officers gathered around Macdonough, who lay in the scuppers, between two guns, covered with blood. He had been knocked clean across the ship, with a force sufficient to have killed him. Again he revived, and limping to a gun, was soon coolly hulling his antagonist. Maimed and suffering, he fought on, showing an example that always makes heroes of subordinates.

At length every gun on the side of his vessel towards the enemy was silenced, but one, and this, on firing it again, bounded from its fastenings, and tumbled down the hatchway. Not a gun was left with which to continue the contest, while the ship was on fire. A surrender, therefore, seemed inevitable. Macdonough, however, resolved to wind his ship, so as to get the other broadside to bear. Failing in the first attempt, the sailing-master, Brum, bethought him of an expedient, which proved successful, and the crippled vessel slowly swung her stern around, until the uninjured guns bore. The Confiance, seeing the manoeuvre, imitated it, but she could not succeed, and lay with her crippled side exposed to the fire of the Saratoga.

In a short time not a gun could be brought to bear. Further resistance was therefore useless, and she surrendered. She had been hulled a hundred and five times, while half of her men were killed and wounded. Captain Downie had fallen some time before, and hence was spared the mortification of seeing her flag lowered.

The Eagle, commanded by Capt. Henley, behaved gallantly in the engagement, while the Ticonderoga, under Lieutenant Cassin, was handled in a manner that astonished those who beheld her. This fearless officer walked backward and forward over his deck, encouraging his men, and directing the fire, apparently unconscious of the balls that smote and crashed around him. His broadsides were so incessant, that several times the vessel was thought to be on fire.

The surrender of the Confiance virtually terminated the contest, which had lasted two hours and a quarter; and as flag after flag struck the galleys took to their sweeps and escaped.

In the midst of this tremendous cannonade, came, at intervals, the explosions on shore. The first gun in the bay, was the signal for Prevost on land, and as the thunder of his heavy batteries mingled in with the incessant broadsides of the contending squadrons, the very shores trembled, and far over the lake, amid the quiet farm-houses of Vermont, the echoes rolled away, carrying anxiety and fear into hundreds of families. Its shore was lined with men, gazing intently in the direction of Plattsburgh, as though from the smoke that rolled heavenward, some tidings might be got of how the battle was going.

To the spectators on the commanding heights around Plattsburgh, the scene was indescribably fearful and thrilling. It was as if two volcanoes were raging below—turning that quiet Sabbath morning into a scene wild and awful as the strife of fiends. But when the firing in the bay ceased, and the American flag was seen still flying, and the Union Jack down, there went up a shout that shook the hills. From the water to the shore, and back again, the deafening huzzas echoed and re-echoed. The American army took up the shout, and sending it high and clear over the thunder of cannon, spread dismay and astonishment into the heart of the enemy's camp.

The American loss in killed and wounded, was one hundred and ten, of whom all but twenty fell on board the Saratoga and Eagle—that of the English was never fully known, though it was supposed to be nearly double.

The force of Macomb was so inferior, and the most of the volunteers were so recently arrived, that from the first he was advised to retreat, a course that Wilkinson and Dearborn and Izard would doubtless have taken, and defended it by rules laid down in books on military tactics. But Macomb had resolved to fight where he stood. The two forts of Brown and Scott, which he had erected and named, he designed should be symbolical of the defence he would make, and the battle he would fight.

After the British batteries had been in fierce operation for some time, throwing shells, hot shot and rockets in a perfect shower upon the American ranks, three columns of attack were formed—two pressing straight for the bridges, the planks of which had been taken up, and the third for a ford farther up the river. The last was repulsed by the volunteers and militia. The other two steadily approached the bridges, but the artillery rained such a tempest of grape shot on the uncovered ranks of one, and the pickets and rifles so scourged the other, that they were driven back to their intrenchments for shelter. After Macdonough's victory, their fire slackened, not only from discouragement, but from the destructive effect of the American gunnery on their batteries, and at nightfall ceased entirely. As soon as it became dark, Prevost ordered a retreat. So rapidly and silently was it conducted, that the army had advanced eight miles before Macomb knew of it. He immediately ordered a pursuit, but this day of strife had ended in a storm of wind and rain, and it was soon abandoned. Prevost lost two hundred and fifty in killed and wounded, many of whom were left on the ground, drenched and beat upon by the storm. These he commended to the humanity of Macomb, and continued his rapid flight to the St. Lawrence. That British fleet, shattered and torn, lying at anchor under the guns of Macdonough, in the bay, and the army of twelve thousand men streaming through the gloom and rain, panic stricken, lest the feeble force behind should overtake it, present a striking contrast to their prospects in the morning, and show how changeful is fortune. Downie heard not the shout of victory, for he lay stiff and cold in the vessel he had carried so gallantly into action, and Prevost did not long survive his defeat.

So large a hostile force had never before crossed the Canada line, while no such sudden and terrible reverse of fortune had befallen the feeblest expedition. Two such victories on one day, were enough to intoxicate the nation. The news spread like wildfire, and shouts and salvos of artillery, and bonfires, hailed the messengers, as they sped the glad tidings on. The campaign was closing gloriously. Instead of the defeats and failures of the last year, there were Chippewa and Lundy's Lane and Fort Erie, crowned by the victories of Baltimore and Plattsburgh. The news of the two last, approaching from different directions, set the land in a glow of transport, and lifted it from despondency and gloom to confidence and bright expectations.

The Thursday following the battle of Champlain was devoted to the burial of the officers killed in the naval action. As the procession of boats left the Confiance, minute guns were fired from the vessels in the harbor. The artillery and infantry on shore received the dead and bore them to the place of burial, while the cannon of the forts responded to those from the fleet, blending their mournful echoes over the fallen in their prime and manhood. The clouds hung low and gloomy over lake and land, and the rain fell in a gentle shower, imparting still greater loneliness to the scene. On this very day, while friends and foes were thus paying the last tribute of respect to the fallen, Baltimore was shaking to the huzzas of the inhabitants, at the news that the British fleet was sailing down the bay, baffled and disappointed.

Sept 1.

Simultaneous with these two invasions of our territory, a British force was sent against Machias. The misfortune which befel the Adams, sloop-of-war, compelling her to take refuge at Hampden, in the Penobscot river, caused a change in the movements of the expedition, and it did not stop to take Machias, but seized Castine and Belfast, on the Penobscot bay, then pushed on with a sloop of war and small craft carrying in all 700 men, to capture this vessel. Sept 9. Machias was then seized, and all the country east of Penobscot taken possession of. July 14. The islands in Passamaquoddy bay had been seized and occupied two months previous.

Our whole maritime coast was still threatened, and every seaport of any magnitude, was fortifying itself when Congress assembled again.

The only other military movement of note during this fall, was an expedition which set out from Detroit, under the command of General McArthur. It consisted of 700 mounted men, seventy of whom were Indians, and for secresy, daring and skill was not surpassed during the war. Its object was to prevent the enemy from molesting Michigan during the winter, and if successful in its operations, eventually attack Burlington Heights, and form a junction with Generals Brown and Izard. This body of seven hundred bold and well-mounted borderers, left Detroit the 22d of October, and plunged at once into the wilderness. Oct 22. The long and straggling column would now be seen wading along the shallow shores of the lake, and then be lost in the primeval forest, to reappear on the bank of deep rivers, from whose farther shore the wilderness again spread away. The bivouac by night in the autumnal woods, or on the bank of a stream, presented a fine subject for a painter. Their seven hundred horses tied to the trees around, only half relieved by the ruddy fire that strove in vain to pierce the limitless gloom—the lofty trunks of trees receding away like the columns in some old dimly-lighted cathedral—the hardy and rough-looking frontiersmen, stretched with the half-clad savages around the fire—the sentinels scarcely discernible in the distance, all combined to form a picture which has a charm even for the most civilized and refined.

It was, however, no holiday march—expedition was necessary to success, and the horses were kept to the top of their endurance. Straining up acclivities, floundering through swamps, struggling with the rapid currents of rivers, this detachment succeeded in penetrating more than two hundred miles into the enemy's country, and to within twenty-five miles of Burlington Heights. It marched more than four hundred miles, one hundred and eighty of it through an unbroken wilderness, defeated five hundred militia strongly posted, killed and wounded twenty-seven men, and took a hundred and eleven prisoners, and returned with the loss of but one man. Oct 17. In the discipline he maintained, the health of the troops, and their safe return, McArthur showed himself a skillful and able commander, while his subordinates deserve the highest commendation.