The Naval Actions of the War of 1812. James Barnes

at the mercy of the billows.”

      It was now nearly seven o’clock. The sky had clouded over, the wind was freshening, and the sea was growing heavy. Hull drew off for repairs, rove new rigging, secured his masts, and, wearing ship, again approached, ready to pour in a final broadside. It was not needed. Before the Constitution could fire, the flag which had been flying at the stump of the enemy’s mizzen-mast was struck. The fight was over.

      A boat was lowered from the Constitution, and Lieutenant Read, the third officer, rowing to the prize, inquired, with “Captain Hull’s compliments,” if she had struck her flag. He was answered by Captain Dacres — who must have possessed a sense of humor — that, for very obvious reasons, she certainly had done so.

      To quote a few words from Hull’s account of the affair — he says: “After informing that so fine a ship as the Guerrière, commanded by an able and experienced officer, had been totally dismasted and otherwise cut to pieces, so as to make her not worth towing into port, in the short space of thirty minutes (actual fighting time), you can have no doubt of the gallantry and good conduct of the officers and ship’s company I have the honor to command.”

      In the Constitution seven were killed and seven wounded. In the Guerrière, fifteen killed, sixty-two wounded — including several officers and the captain, who was wounded slightly; twenty-four were missing.

      The next day, owing to the reasons shown in Hull’s report, the Guerrière was set on fire. At 3.15 in the afternoon she blew up; and this was the end of the ship whose commander had sent a personal message to Captain Hull some weeks before, requesting the “honor of a tête-à-tête at sea.”

      Isaac Hull, who had thus early endeared himself in the hearts of his countrymen, and set a high mark for American sailors to aim at, was born near the little town of Derby, not far from New Haven, Connecticut, in the year 1775. He was early taken with a desire for the sea, and at the age of twelve years he went on board a vessel that had been captured by his father from the British during the Revolution.

      Although he entered the navy at the age of twenty-three, he had already made eighteen voyages to different parts of Europe and the West Indies, and had seen many adventures and thrilling moments.

      During the administration of John Adams there occurred “that exceedingly toilsome but inglorious service” of getting rid of the French privateers who infested the West Indian seas. During this quasiwar Hull was first lieutenant of the frigate Constitution under Commodore Talbot. In May, 1798, he had a chance to distinguish himself, and did not neglect the opportunity, although the upshot of it was tragic but bloodless.

      It might not be out of place to relate the incident here. In the harbor Porto Plata, in the island of St. Domingo, lay the Sandwich, a French letter-of-marque. Hull was sent by his superior, in one of the cutters, to reconnoitre the Frenchman. On the way he found a little American sloop that rejoiced in the name of Sally. Hull threw his party of seamen and marines on board of her, and hid them below the deck. Then the Sally was put into the harbor, and, as if by some awkwardness, ran afoul of the Sandwich, which, as a jocose writer remarks, “they devoured without the loss of a man.” At the same time this rash proceeding was being carried on under the eyes (or, better, guns) of a Spanish battery, Lieutenant Carmick took some marines and, rowing ashore, spiked the guns. The Sandwich was captured at midday, and before the afternoon was over she weighed her anchor, beat out of the harbor, and joined the Constitution.

      In the opinion of nautical judges this was the best bit of cutting-out work on record, for Hull’s men were outnumbered three to one; and if he had not taken precautions, the battery could have blown him out of the water. But, alas and alack! all this daring and bravery went for worse than naught. Spain complained of the treatment she had received, and the United States government acknowledged that the capture was illegal, having taken place in a neutral port. The Sandwich was restored to her French owners, and, worst of all, every penny of the prize money due the Constitution’s officers and men for this cruise went to pay the damages.

      Before the war of 1812, Hull distinguished himself by his fearlessness and self-reliance during the Tripolitan war. The two occasions that gave him renown during our struggle with Great Britain have been recorded at length, and there is but to set down that, after the conclusion of the war with Great Britain, Commodore Hull was in command at the various stations in the Pacific and the Mediterranean, and departed this life on the 13th of February, 1843. Of him John Frost writes, in 1844, “He was a glorious old commodore, with a soul full of all noble aspirations for his country’s honor — a splendid relic of a departed epoch of naval renown.”