Hero Stories from American History Part 20

Captain Lambert was mortally injured, his first lieutenant severely hurt, and nearly fifty men were killed and more than one hundred wounded. "Old Ironsides" came out of the battle with every spar in place.

{181} The wheel of the Java was removed and fitted on the Const.i.tution, to replace the one which had been shot away.

A few years after the war, some British naval officers paid a visit to "Old Ironsides."

"You have a most perfect vessel," said one of them, "but I must say that you have a very ugly wheel for so beautiful a frigate."

"Yes," said the American captain to whom the remark was made, "it is ugly. We lost our wheel in fighting the Java, and after the battle we replaced it with her wheel, and somehow we have never felt like changing it."

{182} Bainbridge was a great-hearted and heroic man. When he was told that Captain Lambert was mortally injured, he forgot his own wounds and had his men carry him to the blood-stained quarter-deck, where the British officer lay. He then put into the dying man's hand the sword he had just surrendered.

On Captain Bainbridge's return to Boston, another long procession marched up State Street, and another grand dinner was given. When he traveled by coach to Washington, the people along the route turned out in great crowds to honor the naval hero.

The Const.i.tution fought her last battle off the Madeira Islands, on February 20, 1815, under the command of Captain Charles Stewart, one of the hardest fighters in the history of our navy.

"What shall I bring you for a present?" said Captain Stewart to his bride.

"A British frigate," promptly replied the patriotic young wife.

"I will bring you two," answered Stewart.

On the afternoon of February 20, two British men-of-war hove in sight. They proved to be the frigate Cyane and the sloop of war Levant.

"Old Ironsides" made all sail to overhaul them.

Stewart's superb seamanship in this sharp battle has excited the admiration of naval experts, even to our own day. It is generally admitted that no American ship was ever better handled. He raked one vessel and then {183} the other, repeatedly. Neither of the enemy's war ships got in a single broadside.

Just forty minutes after Stewart's first fire, the Cyane surrendered.

A full moon then rose in all its splendor, and the battle went stoutly on with the Levant. At ten o'clock, however, she, too, perfectly helpless, struck her colors.

"Old Ironsides'" last great battle was over. Singlehanded, she had fought two British war ships at one time and defeated them, and that, too, with only three men killed and twelve wounded. In less than three hours our stanch frigate was again in fighting trim.

With the exception of long periods of rest, "Old Ironsides" carried her country's flag with dignity and honor for forty years.

Her cruising days ended just before the outburst of the Civil War, in 1861, when she was taken to Newport, Rhode Island, to serve as a school-ship for the Naval Academy. Later, she was housed over, and used as a receiving ship at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. In the fall of 1897, she was towed to the navy yard at Charlestown, to take part in her centennial celebration, October 21, 1897.

The old Const.i.tution has been rebuilt in parts, and repaired many times; so that little remains of the original vessel except her keel and her floor frames. These huge pieces of her framework, hewn by hand from solid oak, are the same that thrilled with the shock of the old guns, {184} before the granite forts of Tripoli. Over them floated the American flag and the pennants of Preble, Hull, Bainbridge, Decatur, Stewart, and many other gallant men, whose heroic deeds have shed l.u.s.ter on the American navy.

It is interesting to know that Commodore Stewart was the last survivor of the great captains of the war of 1812. He served his country faithfully for seventy-one years, and lived to be ninety-one.

He died at his home, called "Old Ironsides," in New Jersey, in 1869.

The loss of a few frigates did not matter much to England, but the loss of her naval prestige in the war of 1812 was of importance to the whole world. For the first time, Europe realized that there was a new nation, which was able and willing to fight for its freedom on the ocean, as it had fought for its independence on land.

"Old Ironsides" still survives, a weather-beaten and battle-scarred hull, but a precious memorial of the nation's glory. She has earned a lasting place in the affections of the American people.

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CHAPTER XIII

"OLD HICKORY'S" CHRISTMAS

At the beginning of the last century, England was fighting for her very life against the mighty Napoleon. We remained neutral; but our ships were doing a fine business in carrying supplies to the two nations.

England, however, looked at us with a jealous eye, and was determined to prevent our trade with France. On the other hand, Napoleon was eager to shut us out from England.

Thus trouble arose. Both nations began to meddle with our commerce, and to capture and plunder our ships. What did they care for the rights of a feeble nation so long as each could cut off the other's supplies?

Great Britain, moreover, could not man her enormous navy. To get sailors, she overhauled our merchantmen on the high seas and carried men away to supply her war ships. In 1807, nearly two hundred of our merchantmen had been taken by the British, and fully as many more by the French. The time had come when we must either fight or give up our trade.

It was hard to know what was best to do. Some were for fighting both England and France at the same time.

{186} Thomas Jefferson, who was President at this time, and James Madison, who followed him in 1809, were men of peace, and believed that the nation should keep out of war.

In 1811, however, the pent-up wrath of the people, roused by even greater insults, found relief in electing a "war" Congress. Then, through men like Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun, President Madison yielded to popular feeling, and in June, 1812, war was declared with Great Britain.

It was a bold thing to do. England had thousands of well-seasoned troops, commanded by officers who had been trained by Wellington. Our regular army had less than seven thousand men, and our main dependence was upon the militia, who proved of little service. To meet England on the water, we had only six frigates and a dozen or more little craft. England had more than two hundred war ships larger than any of ours.

The war began, and was carried on, in a haphazard sort of way. Most of our land battles were inglorious enough; but the story of our naval battles is another thing. England, the "mistress of the seas,"

met with some unpleasant surprises. Out of fifteen naval contests, with equal forces, we won twelve. Never before had the British navy met with such defeats.

Early in the year 1814, Napoleon was driven into exile at Elba, and Europe was for a time free from war. England was now able to send larger fleets and more {187} troops to our sh.o.r.es, and planned to capture New Orleans, the gateway to the commerce of the Mississippi.

The hour of trial had indeed come for the fair Creole city.

New Orleans was foreign in character, having been joined to our republic by purchase, with little in common with our people except a bitter hatred for England.

In the last week of November, a great fleet with ten thousand veterans sailed across the Gulf of Mexico, in the direction of New Orleans. The troops, most of whom had just served in Spain, under the "Iron Duke," were held to be the best fighting men in the world.

The voyage seems to have been a kind of gala trip. The wives of many of the officers sailed with their husbands; and the time was spent in dancing, in musical and theatrical performances, and in other festivities.

So sure were the proud Britons of taking the Creole city that they brought officers to govern it.

On December 9, in the midst of a storm, the ships anch.o.r.ed off the delta of the Mississippi.

The British, having planned to approach New Orleans from the east, sent the lighter craft to cross Lake Borgne, some fifteen miles from the city.

Five American gunboats, commanded by a young officer named Jones, with less than two hundred men, were guarding the lake. The British landed twelve hundred marines. There was a sharp hand to hand fight for an hour, in which over three hundred of the British were {188} killed or wounded. But it was twelve hundred against two hundred.

Young Jones was severely wounded, and his gunboats were captured.

It was now two days before Christmas. In a little dwelling house in Royal Street all was hurry and bustle. This was General Jackson's headquarters. Early in the afternoon, a young French officer, Major Villere, had galloped to the door, with the word that an outpost on his father's plantation, twelve miles below New Orleans, had been surprised that morning by the British.

"The redcoats are marching in full force straight for the city," he said; "and if they keep on, they will reach here this very night."

"By the Eternal!" exclaimed Jackson. His eyes flashed, his reddish gray hair began to bristle, and he brought his fist down upon the table. "They shall not sleep upon our soil this night."

"Gentlemen," he continued to his officers and to the citizens round him, "the British are below; we must fight them to-night."