CHAPTER XVII COMMODORE PORTER GAINS GLORY IN THE PACIFIC The Gallant Fight of the "Essex" Against Great Odds ANY of you who have read much of American history must have often met with the names of Porter and Farragut. There are no greater names in our naval history. There was Captain David Porter and his two gallant sons, all men of fame. And the still more famous Admiral Farragut began his career under the brave old captain of the War of 1812.

I am going now to tell you about David Porter and the little Essex, a ship whose name the British did not like to hear. And I have spoken of Farragut from the fact that he began his naval career under Captain Porter.

Captain Porter was born in 1780, before the Revolution had ended. His father was a sea-captain; and when the boy was sixteen years old, he stood by his father's side on the schooner Eliza and helped to fight off a British press-gang which wanted to rob it of some of its sailors. The press-gang was a company of men who seized men wherever they found them, and dragged them into the British navy, where they were compelled to serve as sailors or marines. It was a cruel and unjust way of getting men, and the Americans resisted it wherever they could. In this particular fight several men were killed and wounded, and the press-gang thought it best to let the Eliza alone.

When the lad was seventeen he was twice seized by press-men and taken to serve in the British navy, but both times he escaped. Then he joined the American navy as a midshipman.

Young Porter soon showed what was in him. In the naval war with France he was put on a French prize that was full of prisoners who wanted to seize the ship. For three days Porter helped to watch them, and in all that time he did not take a minute's sleep.

Afterward, in a pilot-boat, with fifteen men the boy hero attacked a French privateer with forty men and a barge with thirty men. Porter, with his brave fifteen, boarded the privateer and fought like a hero. After more than half its crew were killed and wounded the privateer surrendered. In this hard fight not one of Porter's men was hurt.

That was only one of the things which young Porter did. When the war with the pirates of Tripoli began, he was there, and again did some daring deeds. He was on the Philadelphia when that good ship ran aground and was taken by the Moors, and he was held a prisoner till the end of the war. Here you have an outline of the early history of David Porter.

When the War of 1812 broke out, he was made captain of the Essex. The Essex was a little frigate that had been built in the Revolution. It was not fit to fight with the larger British frigates, but with David Porter on its quarter-deck it was sure to make its mark.

On the Essex with him was a fine little midshipman, only eleven years old, who had been brought up in the Porter family. His name was David G. Farragut. I shall have a good story of him to tell you later on, for he grew up to be one of the bravest and greatest men in the American navy.

On July 2, 1812, only two weeks after war was declared, Porter was off to sea in the Essex, on the hunt for prizes and glory. He got some prizes, but it was more than a month before he had a chance for glory. Then he came in sight of a British man-of-war, a sight that pleased him very much.

Up came the Essex, pretending to be a merchant ship and with the British flag flying. That is one of the tricks which naval officers play. They think it right to cheat an enemy. The stranger came bowling down under full sail and fired a gun as a hint for the supposed merchantman to stop. So the Essex backed her sails and hove to until the stranger had passed her stern.

Porter was now where he had wanted to get. He had the advantage of the wind—what sailors call the "weather-gage." So down came the British flag and up went the Stars and Stripes: and the ports were thrown open, showing the iron mouths of the guns, ready to bark.

When the English sailors saw this they cheered loudly and ran to their guns. They fired in their usual hasty fashion, making much noise but doing no harm. Porter waited till he was ready to do good work, and then fired a broadside that fairly staggered the British ship.

The Englishman had not bargained for such a salute as this, and now tried to run away. But the Essex had the wind, and in eight minutes was alongside. And in those eight minutes her guns were busy as guns could be. Then down came the British flag. That was the shortest fight in the war.

The prize was found to be the corvette Alert. A corvette is a little ship with not many guns. She was not nearly strong enough for the Essex, and gave up when only three of her men were wounded. But she had been shot so full of holes that she already had seven feet of water in her hold and was in danger of sinking. It kept the men of the Essex busy enough to pump her out and stop up the holes, so that she should not go to the bottom. Captain Porter did not want to lose his prize. He came near losing it, and his ship too, in another way, as I have soon to tell.

You must remember that he had taken other prizes and sent them home with some of his men. So he had a large number of prisoners, some of them soldiers taken from one of his prizes. There were many more British on board than there were Americans, and some of them formed a plot to capture the ship. They might have done it, too, but for the little midshipman, David Farragut.

This little chap was lying in his hammock, when he saw an Englishman come along with a pistol in his hand. This was the leader in the plot who was looking around to see if all was ready for his men to break out on the Americans.

He came up to the hammock where the boy lay and looked in at him. The bright young fellow then had his eyes tight shut and seemed to be fast asleep. After looking a minute the man went away. The instant he was out of sight up jumped the lad and ran to the captain's cabin. You may be sure he did not take many words to tell what he had seen.

Captain Porter knew there was no time to be lost. He sprang out of bed in haste and ran to the deck. Here he gave a loud yell of "Fire! Fire!"

In a minute the men came tumbling up from below like so many rats. They had been trained what to do in case of a night-fire and every man ran to his place. Captain Porter had even built fires that sent up volumes of smoke, so as to make them quick to act and to steady their nerves.

While the cry of fire roused the Americans, it scared the conspirators, and before they could get back their wits the sailors were on them. It did not take long to lock them up again. In that way Porter and Farragut saved their ship.

The time was coming in which he would lose his ship, but the way he lost it brought him new fame. I must tell you how this came about. When the Constitution and the Hornet, as I have told you in another story, were in the waters of Brazil, the Essex was sent to join them. You know what was done there, how the Constitution whipped and sunk the Java, and the Hornet did the same for the Peacock.

There was no such luck for the Essex, and after his fellow-ships had gone north Captain Porter went cruising on his own account. In the Pacific Ocean were dozens of British whalers and other ships. Here was a fine field for prizes. So he set sail, went round the stormy Cape Horn in a hurricane, and was soon in the great ocean of the west.

I shall not tell you the whole story of this cruise. The Essex here was like a hawk among a flock of partridges. She took prize after prize, until she had about a dozen valuable ships.

When the news of what Porter was doing reached England, there was a sort of panic. Something must be done with this fellow or he would clear the Pacific of British trade. So a number of frigates were sent in the hunt for him. They were to get him in any way they could.

After a long cruise on the broad Pacific, the Essex reached the port of Valparaiso, on the coast of Chile, in South America. She had with her one of her prizes, the Essex Junior. Here Porter heard that a British frigate, the Phoebe, was looking for him. That pleased him. He wanted to come across a British war-vessel, so he concluded to wait for her. He was anxious for something more lively than chasing whaling ships.

He was not there long before the Phoebe came, and with her a small warship, the Cherub.

When the Phoebe came in sight of the Essex it sailed close up. Its captain had been told that half the American crew were ashore, and very likely full of Spanish wine. But when he got near he saw the Yankee sailors at their guns and ready to fight. When he saw this he changed his mind. He jumped on a gun and said:—

"Captain Hillyar's compliments to Captain Porter, and hopes he is well."

"Very well, I thank you," said Porter. "But I hope you will not come too near for fear some accident might take place which would be disagreeable to you."

"I had no intention of coming on board," said Captain Hillyar, when he saw the look of things on the deck of the Essex. "I am sorry I came so near you."

"Well, you have no business where you are," said Porter. "If you touch a rope yarn of this ship, I shall board instantly."

With that the Phoebe wore round and went off. It was a neutral port and there was a good excuse for not fighting, but it was well for Porter that he was ready.

A few days later he heard that some other British ships were coming from Valparaiso and he concluded to put to sea. He didn't want to fight a whole fleet. But the wind treated him badly. As he sailed out a squall struck the Essex and knocked her maintopmast into the sea. Porter now ran into a small bay near at hand and dropped anchor close to the shore.

Here was the chance for the Phoebe and the Cherub. They could stand off and hammer the Essex where she could not fire back. They had over thirty long guns while the Essex had only six, and only three of these could be used. The rest of her guns were short ones that would not send a ball far enough to reach the British ships.

The Essex was in a trap. The British began to pour solid iron into her at the rate of nearly ten pounds to her one. For two hours this was kept up. There was frightful slaughter on the Essex. Her men were falling like dead leaves, but Porter would not yield.

After this went on for some time there came a change in the wind, and the Essex spread what sail she had and tried to get nearer. But the Phoebe would not wait for her, but sailed away and kept pumping balls into her.

Soon the wind changed again. Now all hope was gone. The American crew was being murdered and could not get near the British. Porter tried to run his ship ashore, intending to fight to the last and then blow her up.

But the treacherous wind shifted again and he could not even reach the shore. Dead and wounded men lay everywhere. Flames were rising in the hold. Water was pouring into shot holes. The good ship had fought her last and it was madness to go on. So at 6.20 o'clock, two and a half hours after the fight began, her flag came down and the battle was over.

The story of the cruise of the Essex and her great struggle against odds was written for us by her young midshipman—David Farragut. President Roosevelt, in his Naval History of the War of 1812, says the following true words about Captain Porter's brave fight:

"As an exhibition of dogged courage it has never been surpassed since the time when the Dutch Captain Keasoon, after fighting two long days, blew up his disabled ship, devoting himself and all his crew to death, rather than surrender to the hereditary foes of his race." Porter was the man to do the same thing, but he felt he had no right to send all his men to death.

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