Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors: Tales of 1812

  THE SCAPEGOAT

  It was a famous dinner party that Captain William Bainbridge, Commanderof the Charlestown Navy Yard, gave on the night of the 31st of May,1813. In those days gentlemen sat long at a table; they knew good wineswhen they tasted them, and if they drank a great deal at a sitting,they sipped slowly.

  The cloth had been removed, and upon the shining mahogany rested twoor three cut-glass decanters filled with the best Madeira. CaptainBainbridge sat at the head of the table, in a high-backed oaken chair;he was dressed in a blue uniform coat, with the gold-braided lapelsthrown back over his wide chest. In his snow-white shirt frill therenestled a sparkling jewel given to him by the Sultan of Turkey, uponthe occasion when Bainbridge had brought the old frigate _GeorgeWashington_ into the harbor of Constantinople and there for the firsttime displayed the flag of the United States.

  The candles had burned low in the candelabra, a silence had fallen uponthe company; it was evident that something had interrupted the easyflow of wit and conversation. Captain James Lawrence, the guest of theevening, was in full uniform, with epaulets and great gold buttons asbig as half-dollars. He sat opposite Captain Bainbridge, with bothelbows on the table, cracking walnuts and eating them as if to staveoff hunger; his face was flushed, and a frown was on his brow. A youngman of not more than twenty, with a gleaming mass of gold braid on hisleft shoulder, the mark of the lieutenant, had the next seat to him; hewas nervously drumming on the table with his finger-nails. Occasionallyhe would glance from Lawrence to Bainbridge, and then at the two otherofficers who were sitting there in constrained silence.

  Well did they all know how easy it was for the word to be spoken thatwould fire the smouldering mine, and change what had been a jovialgathering to the prologue of a tragedy. Men had to be careful how theyspoke in those days. There could never be any brawling or carelessflying of words; courtesy and gallantry limited their power of personaloffence; but epithets or implications once given expression could noteasily be withdrawn. Men who had been friends and who had fought forthe same cause would, with the stilted hat-tipping and snuff-offeringfashion of the time, meet one another in the gray of morning underGod's sky and do one another to the death.

  At last Lawrence spoke.

  "Are you not judging me harshly in this matter, sir?" he said. "You sayyou doubt my caution." His gaze shifted from the brilliant jewel inBainbridge's breast to the frank, manly face above.

  "Your caution; yes, Captain," was the return; "your courage, my dearsir, never."

  Lawrence cracked another walnut with a loud report. "Surely in mylittle affair with the _Peacock_ you have granted that I used judgment;and in regard to the distribution of prize money, which has not seemedto suit our mutual views----"

  Bainbridge interrupted him. "That is a question apart from our presentdiscussion, sir," he said. "I pray that you will postpone it. But I canonly say for the benefit of all concerned that I do not doubt an easyadjustment. For what you decide must perforce be agreeable to me."

  "You are my senior----"

  "And for that reason I have taken the opportunity, as you have broughtup the subject, to express my opinions. I cannot order you; it isoutside my province or my wish. Before the company you have brought upthis matter, and for that reason I have discussed it. Every one mustagree that the Department authorities at Washington have treated youmost unhandsomely. Had you been given the command of the _Constitution_,as was first intended and promised you, and were she in a conditionto put to sea, I should say nothing but what would encourage you toexercise despatch."

  "Ah, if I but had the _Constitution_ and her crew," put in Lawrence,with a sigh; "if I but had them." Suddenly he brought his strong,clenched fist down upon the table with a crash: "Then this Englishcaptain would not be flaunting his flag at the harbor mouth, daring meto come on and fight him; shaming us all here where we lie at anchor!The _Chesapeake_ is ready!"

  "Ah, but she is the _Chesapeake_," interrupted Bainbridge.

  "True enough; but why not give me the chance to wipe the stain from offher name?" He suddenly arose, and leaning across the table spokequickly and vehemently. "Order two hundred of the _Constitution's_ menon board of her, and I will sail out and give battle to-morrow! I doubtnot, nor do I fear the consequences. I ask this of you as a proof offriendship."

  In his excitement, Lawrence upset one of the tall wine-glasses. Ittinkled musically, and, reaching forward, he filled it to the brim, andBainbridge waited until this had been done.

  "I cannot grant your request, Captain Lawrence," he said quietly atlast. "Your ship is in no condition to go out and fight at the moment.She has a green crew. Her running-gear has not been tested."

  "Then let me go into the yard and call for volunteers!" Lawrenceinterrupted hotly.

  "I cannot prevent you taking men who are not busily employed; but Ishall not order men from work. 'Twould be sanctioning your action."

  The mine was on the point of being fired; the fatal word was tremblingon Lawrence's lips. The boy lieutenant half rose from his chair; butLawrence controlled himself with an effort. He may have realized howsenseless it would have been to impute to William Bainbridge lack ofcourage. He may have thought of the wicked consequence of such aspeech. But he was obstinate. His nature was not one to be thwartedeasily. Throwing back his shoulders and looking around the table, heraised the brimming wine-glass to his lips.

  "Then, here's to the success of the _Chesapeake_!" he blurted, anddrained it to the bottom. "I shall go out and fight this fellowto-morrow," he added sullenly. "You gentlemen," turning to the others,who were all officers of his luckless ship, "shall share with me thehonor." Turning, he walked to the side of the room and picked up hiscloak and heavy bullion-edged cocked hat.

  "Sir, to you good evening."

  Bainbridge was about to speak; but on second thought he remained silentand bowed slowly. Without a word Lawrence, followed by three of hisofficers, left the room. The young Lieutenant lingered. His face hadflushed when his captain had spoken the word "glory," and yet the calm,dispassionate judgment of Bainbridge had appealed to him. He was abeautiful lad, this officer, with long-lashed eyes like those of ayoung girl. His light brown hair curled softly over his white forehead.One would expect nothing but laughter and song from those lips, and itneeded the strong, square-cut jaw to give the note of decision andcharacter to his face. It redeemed it from being too classical; toobeautifully feminine. He loved James Lawrence, his commander, and trulya boy's love for a man who excites his admiration is much like awoman's in its tenderness and devotion. Lawrence had been a father tohim, or better, an elder brother, for the _Chesapeake's_ commander wasbut thirty-two years of age.

  Young William Cox had been much at Captain Bainbridge's house since the_Chesapeake_ had dropped her anchor in the Charles River, and theCommandant had watched with approval the mutual attraction that existedbetween the young officer and the beautiful Miss Hyleger, who was thesister of Bainbridge's wife. He probably knew what was going throughthe young man's mind. As he followed after the others Bainbridgestopped him.

  "Good night, James; may God watch over you. You will do your duty; ofthat I am well assured."

  "Thank you, sir," the lad returned, flushing as he took Bainbridge'shand in both of his.

  When left alone, the Commodore sat there in his great armchair, and onhis face was a great shadow of sorrow.

  Lawrence did not go on board his ship that night; but LieutenantLudlow, Mr. White, the sailing-master, and Lieutenants Cox and Ballardrepaired on board at once to make ready for the approaching conflict.All night long James Lawrence walked alone under the trees in the riverpark, and at early dawn, still dressed in his resplendent uniform, withhis silk stockings and white knee-breeches, he made his appearance atthe Navy Yard. Some sixty men responded to his call. But the oldersailors wagged their heads. It was not necessary. Ah, that was it! Hadit been a case of do or die, there was not a man who would not havethrown down his work and jumped at the chance to fight. But the_Chesapeake_! sh
e was an unlucky vessel. Sailors avoided her. Her crewwas riffraff in a measure; men not wanted on other ships; many offoreign birth; Portuguese and Spaniards; a few Danes, and without doubtsome renegade servants of King George.

  As the morning mist cleared away from the water, there in the offingwas the English frigate that had been hovering and flaunting herchallenging flag for the past three days.... Boston was all agog withthe news. The whole city had flocked to the water front. Before nineo'clock the _Chesapeake_ was surrounded by a flotilla of small craft.Men cheered themselves hoarse. Flags floated from the buildings, andwomen waved handkerchiefs from the docks. But yet, some of the wiseones wagged their heads.

  The bulwarks and top sides of the _Chesapeake_ had been freshlypainted, and the paint was not yet dry. As her crew stretched out thenew yellow hempen running-gear, they smudged everything with thepigment. There was no time to be careful; it was a hurly-burly haste onevery hand. The officers were reading the lists of the men at the guns.They did not know them by name or sight, and were trying to impresstheir faces on their minds at this short notice. There was bawling andhauling and shouting and confusion. How different from the clockworkmethods on board the _Constitution_! But at last everything was asready as it could be. Lawrence, after his sleepless night, pale butnerved to tension by excitement, came from the cabin. As he looked downthe deck, his spirits must have sunk. Things were not shipshape--atthis very instant he may have regretted that he had formed the decisionto go out and fight. But it was too late to withdraw! He gave theorders, and, to the tune of Yankee Doodle, they began getting in theanchor. The pilot was on board, standing beside the helmsman. Lawrencewent back to his cabin and wrote a letter that has only recently beengiven to the public. It was addressed to James Cox, the uncle of youngLieutenant Cox, of his own ship. The whole tone of the missive displaysthe despondent attitude of mind under which Lawrence was now laboring.The postscript that he added, after referring to the possibility of hisuntimely end, reads as follows:--

  "10 A.M. The frigate is in plain sight from our decks, and we are nowgetting under way."

  It was the last sentence he ever penned. As soon as he had sealed theletter he came on deck and delivered it to the pilot, who left the shipwithin half an hour.

  Now came the ordeal. The small boats that had surrounded the vesselwere being left behind as she gained headway. But some of the fastersailers among them managed to keep pace, and cheer after cheer sounded.A crew of rowers in a whaleboat kept abreast of the _Chesapeake's_bows, shouting words of encouragement to the crew. But the men did notappear eager. The officers could not help but notice it, and theimpression must have been most heart breaking.

  "Muster the crew," Lawrence ordered at last, turning to young Ludlow;"I will say a few words to them." The men gathered in the waist,whispering and talking among themselves.

  "James," said Lawrence, to Lieutenant Cox, before he began to make thecustomary address that a ship's captain in those days made before goinginto action,--"James, I know that I can trust you--you will do yourduty." The young man at his side touched his cap. "You will find mehere, sir," he replied, "unless my duty is elsewhere." Lawrence steppeda few feet forward.

  "Men of the _Chesapeake_," said he, "it is our good fortune to be ableto answer the call that our country has made upon our honor. We willanswer it with our lives if necessary. Do your duty; fight well andnobly. Your country's eyes are on you, and in her heart she thanks youin advance. Yonder British frigate must return under our lee. Let noshots be wasted. To your stations."

  There was some low grumbling off to one side of the deck. Ablack-visaged, shifty-eyed fellow came pushing to the front. A doubleallowance of grog had been already served; but many of the men had beenimbibing freely, owing to the proximity of the shore and the ease withwhich liquor could be obtained. The man strode out before the crowd andstopped within a few paces of the Captain. He spoke in broken English.Lawrence listened in anger and almost in despair. The man complained ininsolent tones that he and his messmates had not been paid some prizemoney due them now a long time. Lawrence's hand sought the hilt of hissword. He would have run the fellow through as he well deserved, did henot see that among the crew he numbered many followers. Their surlylooks and gestures proved their evil temper. _The man declared thatunless he and thirty of the others were paid at once they would declineto fight._

  Here was mutiny at the outset! A fine state of affairs to exist onboard a vessel going to fight a battle.... There was nothing for it butto acquiesce. He could not treat the cur as he deserved.

  "Take these men to the cabin and pay them what they say is due them,"said Lawrence, bitterly. There was not money enough on board the ship,and he was forced to go to the cabin himself, and sign due bills forthe amount. And all this time the enemy was in the offing prepared andeager.

  The English frigate hauled her wind and put out to sea as she saw the_Chesapeake_ approach. Her flag was flying, and now Lawrence unfurledhis. At the main and mizzen and at the peak he flew the Stars andStripes, while at the fore he displayed the motto flag: "Free trade andsailors' rights." On the two vessels sailed over the bright, sunlitsea. The day was almost without a cloud. One or two small sailingvessels still followed in the _Chesapeake's_ wake. At four P.M. shefired a challenging gun.

  There were no seamen of the good old school that could not if theyhad seen the English ship but admire her. With calm precision the_Shannon_--for it was well known who she was--braced back hermaintopsails and hove to. In silence the two manoeuvred. At every pointthe English vessel had the better of it. Which would fire first? Therewas one moment when the _Chesapeake_ had the advantage. Owing to herclumsiness more than to her agility, she came about within pistol-shotdistance under the enemy's stern. But her commander held his fire. Aminute more and they were on even terms, sailing in dead silence besideone another, nearing all the time--who would have thought that theywere craving each other's blood? The orders on board one ship could beheard on board the other. The word "Ready" was passed at the samemoment; but the discharge of the Englishman's broadside preceded thatof the _Chesapeake_ by a perceptible moment. How well those guns musthave been trained! Every one was double shotted and heavily charged.The _Chesapeake_ quivered from the shock. In that second, in the timeit takes a man to catch his breath, the whole aspect of affairs hadchanged. Mr. White, the sailing-master, was immediately killed; Mr.Ballard, the Fourth Lieutenant, was mortally wounded. Ten sailors felldead to the decks. Twenty-three were badly hurt. The bulwarks werecrushed in, and the cabin was torn to pieces.

  "Steady!" roared Lawrence. "Steady, boys, have at them!"

  There was a marine with a musket in one of the Englishman's tops. Hewas aiming at the resplendent figure in gold epaulets, carefully as oneaims at a target, and at last he pulled the trigger. Lawrence fell downon one knee; but leaning against the companionway, he pulled himselferect again. Not an expression or exclamation came from him; but hiswhite knee breeches were streaked and stained with red. Nearer yet thetwo ships drifted. Their crashing broadsides scorched each other. TheEnglishmen cheered, and the Yankees answered them--the volunteers fromthe Charlestown yard were giving a good account of themselves. Butseveral times the _Chesapeake_ yawed and fell off her course as if shehad lost her head, like a man dizzy from a blow that deadens the brain.And good reason why: three men in succession were shot away from herwheel. The expert riflemen placed in the _Shannon's_ mizzentop weredoing their work well. A puff of wind took the American all aback, shefell off and swung about. Her anchor caught in the _Shannon's_ afterport. And now not a gun could be brought to bear! Whole gun's crewsleft their places and plunged down the companionway to the deck below.But the _Shannon_ was taking advantage of her opportunity. Charges ofgrape and canister raked and swept the decks.

  Lawrence looked in despair at the frightful havoc. He knew what nowwould happen. Every minute he expected to see the English boarders cometumbling on board. Lieutenant Cox had been sent below to take charge ofthe second division. Lawrence looke
d for an officer. The only one insight was Lieutenant Ludlow. Had it not been for his uniform no onewould have known him. He was blood and wounds from head to foot. Hecould not stand erect, and was dragging himself about the deck, oneuseless leg trailing behind him.

  "The bugler! call the bugler!" thundered Lawrence. "To repel boarderson the spar-deck! Where is the after-guard?"

  Ludlow fell, better than clambered, down the main-hatch. "Pass the wordfor the bugler!" he cried. "Boarders away!" But the bugler could not befound. And good reason why. He was down in the deep hold hiding amidthe stores. Young Lieutenant Cox heard the order. "Boarders away!" heshouted. As he started to rally his men and rush up from below, he wasmet by the crowd fleeing from the terrible slaughter that was takingplace above. But at last he managed to work his way up the companionladder. He too was wounded and bleeding--a splinter had gashed him inthe neck and another in the shoulder. What a sight he saw! Lawrence,his beloved friend, his idol, weakly holding fast to one of thebelaying-pins, still repeating his fruitless cry for the men to rallyon the deck. As Cox leaped toward him a second bullet from themizzentop struck the captain in the abdomen--Cox caught him as he fell.Lawrence grasped his hand.

  "Don't give up the ship!" he cried weakly. "Don't give up the ship!" Heplaced one arm about the boy's shoulder. He was so young; he loved hisleader so much. He was faint from loss of blood. It was his firstaction. Never before had he seen dying men, or listened to the groansand shrieks of the wounded. Who would expect him to break away fromthat last fond grasp that had not relaxed? He did not know that he wasnow commander! Almost carrying his wounded leader, he staggered downthe ladder to where the surgeon and his mates were busy at theirdireful work. He did not see, just as he left the deck, the Englishboarders headed by their own Captain, the brave and gallant Broke,spring over the railing. He did not know that he and the wounded Ludlowwere the only officers now left to handle ship.... As the surgeonhastened to Lawrence's side, Cox knelt down upon one knee. He could notcontrol the tears of sorrow and bitterness. The whole scene of theprevious night flashed through his mind. Lawrence, his beloved, eagerfor glory, now shattered with the hand of death upon him. The Captainreleased the boy's hand.

  "You are a brave lad, James," he said. "But stay here no longer, thoughI would have you with me."

  "'Stay here no longer--though I would have you withme.'"]

  There was more rushing and shouting from the decks above. Cox hastenedup as fast as his weakened limbs would carry him. It was hand to handnow; cutlasses plying, men stabbing on the decks, growling andgrovelling in their blood like fighting dogs. There was a party makingan onslaught toward the bows. Cox drew his sword and joined them. Thefirst thing he knew, they were slashing at him with their heavy blades.They were Englishmen! He did not know his own crew by sight. The firinghad stopped; the summer breeze was blowing the smoke away. But what asight and what a sound! The battered, reddened hulls, and the groansthat rose in chorus! Of the further details there is little to relate.Poor Ludlow was killed at last by a cutlass in the hands of a Britishsailor; for after the flag had been hauled down, a second action hadbeen started by a hot-headed boy firing at a British sentry placed atthe gangway. The English, by mistake, had hoisted the captured flaguppermost, but it was soon discovered and hauled down again--the fightwas over. The _Chesapeake_ has been reckoned one of England's dearestprizes.

  The sorrowful news of her defeat was carried quickly into Boston. Thewise ones wagged their heads again. At the house of the Commandant ofthe navy yard at Charlestown, Bainbridge paced the room alone, deeplines of grief marking his rugged face, and on the floor above, a younggirl lay insensible, for the word as first brought was that with theother officers James Cox had had his death. Captain Broke, theEnglishman, had fought a gallant, manly fight, all honor to him! He wasbadly wounded, and, like poor Lawrence, it was thought that he woulddie. The latter, when he had heard the firing cease, had said to thesurgeon:--

  "Run to the deck. Tell them not to strike the colors! While I live theyshall wave!" Brave Lawrence! They were the last words he ever spoke.Although he lingered four long suffering days, not a sound passed hislips. Broke, on the contrary, was raving in a delirium, and these werethe words he kept repeating--words he must have spoken before theaction had begun:--

  "See the brave fellow! How grandly he brings his ship along! Howgallantly he comes to action!"

  Ah, how Halifax rejoiced when the _Shannon_ sailed in there with aYankee frigate under her lee. How the guns boomed, and how the citywent mad with joy! And how England rejoiced, and the "Thunderer"thundered and the king clapped his hands! And how much they made of it!How proudly they preserved every relic of the captured ship! How theycherished her figurehead and exhibited her logbook! And they buildedher timbers into an old mill, where they can show them to you to-day,scarred with cannon shot.

  Yes, and how America lamented! Aye, and grew angry in her distress andcried for vengeance! Many times during the trial which followed in theinvestigation of the causes for the vessel's loss and capture, musthave young James Cox wished that he were dead, that it had been he theBritish cutlasses and musket-balls had hacked to pieces. The navy hadlost a ship in single combat,--the press and the authorities did notlike that,--some one must suffer. What excuse was there that could holdgood? said they--the great public which clamored for a reason. And soin the flush of the hot feeling he was sentenced by court martial;sentenced and disgraced. The charge of cowardice was disproved. Fromthat he was exonerated--he had been wounded. But why had he not cutdown the men as they left their guns? (one man against fifty,forsooth!) Why had he left the deck and gone below? Why had he stayedfor one moment's time at the side of his dying friend and leader? Andso he was made the scapegoat, although if he had been six men or ten,he could not have prevented what had happened. What is the use of"ifs"? The best ship had won. But when the trial was over, two heartswere broken. The young officer was execrated by those that did notknow, and yet who talk and write. Could he dare just then to ask awoman's hand?

  The navy pitied him, the scapegoat of the _Chesapeake_. How hepetitioned to be given a chance to win back his fair name, and howoften it was denied him! The members of the court that sentenced himwrote kindly letters almost without exception. But even the braveDecatur did not dare to help him--public opinion is more formidable toface than an armed ship. And so James Cox, maybe in the hope that anhonorable death would visit him, shouldered a musket and fought as acommon soldier in the ranks on land.

  And when the war was over, he sought refuge in the new country of thewest, where perhaps they would not know. And there he lived and died;died an old man, honored and respected by his neighbors. But those thatloved him marvelled at one thing; he never smiled. And even hisgrandchildren (for he married late in life) knew not that he had oncebeen a gay young lieutenant with a shining epaulet on his leftshoulder. They never heard that he had started one fine June day tofind glory and fame; and that death had come near to him but passed himby, which he had more than once regretted bitterly.

  After he had been laid to rest letters and papers were found showingthat to the last he had been trying to have his name placed back uponthe navy lists. But if they were too angry to listen before in theirdeep chagrin, they were too busy now; they had other things to thinkabout. And people who wrote history, aye and taught it in the schools,did not search dispassionately for what had occurred to view thefacts. They took the feverish verdict of the times and appliedadjectives to his conduct that were out of place; some called it"pusillanimous"--"cowardly." We can look at things differently now,and judge them for their worth. There is proof enough to clear hisname, so be it cleared if these few words can help to do it.