Captain Jesse Duncan Elliott was no stranger to controversy. While commandant of the Boston Navy Yard, he caused an uproar by having a politically incorrect—for rabidly Whig Bostonians at least—figurehead of President Andrew Jackson placed on the fabled frigate USS Constitution during her reconstruction. The figurehead was soon beheaded by an irate Bostonian, thereby causing a brouhaha and the President embarrassing publicity. Elliott received orders to get the ship ready for sea quickly and to sail her out of sight, out of mind, and—Navy leaders hoped—out of the press. His precipitate departure from Boston on 2 March 1835 began a voyage all involved were later only too anxious to put behind them.
Elliott proceeded first to New York, primarily to take aboard Minister Edward Livingston for transport to France, but also to replace Jackson's missing head and load many supplies his rapid departure from Boston had denied him. There, too, his purser caught up with him, having been left behind because his replacement on the staff of the navy yard had not arrived.
Head replaced, many (but not all) supplies and the diplomat on board, the Constitution sailed for northern France on 16 March, and the troubles began. Slamming into a late-winter gale within 12 hours of her departure, the big ship was battened down, her guns housed, upper yards sent down, and with storm sails set, she still made ten knots. The storm intensified during the night when the ship was struck by a rogue wave. She plunged into the trough ahead of the monster and was buried in tons of angry water. As her crew struggled to clear her, a series of heavy, jarring thumps were felt and heard forward. The starboard 24-pounder gunade had been torn from its carriage and hurled through its port. Dangling by the breeching tackle, it was being slammed into the ship by succeeding waves. Gone, too, were the jib and flying jib booms up forward and the captain's gig from the stern davits. After a second, only slightly smaller wave rolled over, a lone Sailor worked his way to the bow and dropped the errant cannon into the sea with swings from his ax. The ship hove to under scraps of canvas until the storm abated the next afternoon.
Port Calls and a Narrow Escape
The voyage thereafter seems to have been uneventful until the frigate entered the English Channel. Off the Isle of Wight, she was approached by a small vessel. It was later learned that the boat's skipper was a known smuggler who had thus far escaped prosecution. On board was a merchant from Cowes, near Portsmouth, who took his business to sea to get ahead of his competition. After passing up letters of introduction from other American warships, Elliott permitted him aboard and allowed him to take orders for his wares as the ship headed for Le Havre. Some days later, as the Constitution lay in harbor awaiting the outcome of Minister Livingston's embassy to Paris, the merchant reappeared, tying up alongside to deliver the orders he had received from both the ship and her officers. The purser, at his captain's direction, signed for the receipts of said goods. By not having officially landed in France, the merchant technically was on a coasting voyage between English ports, and so avoided both export and import levies by the respective governments—a fact known to all.
His mission to Paris over, Minister Livingston returned to the Constitution, and she sailed on 16 May, crossing the Channel to Plymouth, from which port Livingston communicated the gist of his French meetings to his counterpart in London. That done, five days later, the ship headed home and again almost immediately ran into heavy weather kicked up by a gale somewhere to the southwest. After nightfall, and in accordance with Elliott's standing orders, the officer of the deck reduced sail so the ship might ride more comfortably. An unfortunate side effect of this was that she made more leeway than she might otherwise have done, and it became apparent that she was being driven onto the Isles of Scilly, off southwestern England.
By the time Elliott was called and took stock of the situation, she was in desperate straits. Realizing that he either had to power past the looming rocks or be driven onto them, the captain set all possible sail and drove her onward with rocks visible on both bows. The strain of all the canvas caused some chain bolts to be drawn, threatening the loss of rigging. Luffs were placed on the weather shrouds to ease the strain, but still more were loosened. Making better than nine knots, the Constitution careened through the roiling waters as she dashed through a passage probably known only to local fishermen and gained open water to the west.
More Unrest
Once again, the voyage proceeded without recorded difficulty. But another sort of turmoil had been brewing among the "sea officers" and midshipmen. The current practice was to train and educate midshipmen at sea, under the supervision of the ship's captain. Whether it was the quixotic actions of "Old Ironsides"' commander and the demonstrated incompetencies of his personally appointed professor of mathematics that impelled them, or perhaps the confluence of long-held individual opinions, on 20 June the officers declared themselves a "committee of the whole" to address the matter of the education of naval officers.
At a meeting chaired by First Lieutenant John Berrien Montgomery, with Purser Henry Etting as secretary, the group drew up a series of resolutions decrying the traditional form of officer education and the inadequacies of professors of mathematics as a group and recommending that a formal naval school be established to undertake the education of midshipmen. It was opined that founding the school could be done for the same cost as the professors' annual salaries. Ten members of the committee were further designated to use their "utmost exertions" to gain support for their proposals from the officer corps as a whole and to press for their implementation in Washington. They also would see to the distribution of 500 copies of the proposals, for which each officer paid his pro rata share, to all ships and stations of the Navy.
The Constitution arrived in New York on 23 June, her crew consisting of 45 officers (including 27 passed midshipmen and midshipmen) and 387 Sailors, as well as 2 Marine lieutenants and 56 Marines. During the first two weeks in port, while the officers were busy with their resolutions, 23 petty officers and seamen deserted; two Marines followed in the next week. Ultimately, the number would double before year's end and become the second highest annual total in the ship's history, bested only by desertions in response to the loss of the Chesapeake to HMS Shannon in 1813. Clearly, all was not well on board.
At about this same time, Purser Etting was directed by Captain Elliott to make cash advances to all hands, as well as advances of slops clothing to those wanting any. Men already in debt were not to be denied. This was contrary to Navy policy, but Elliott insisted, in his sometimes contrary way of thinking, that increasing their indebtedness would ensure their continued service on board, despite the widely experienced fact that debtors were among the first to run. Unable to dissuade his captain from his course, Etting complied. The acid test, for the Constitution would be sailing again in less than two months with a crew of about 12 officers, 7 midshipmen and 380 men.
Officers Abandon the Ship
The first sign of problems appeared on the very day of her return when Lieutenant Frank F. Ellery penned a letter to the Navy Department requesting detachment for reasons "of a private nature." That same day, Midshipman Frederick Oakes Jr., requested a leave of absence for health reasons and Surgeon Thomas J. Boyd, a month's leave. The very next day, Sailing Master James Ferguson asked to be detached, while Lieutenant George F. Pearson and Midshipmen James B. Lewis and Benjamin Shattuck requested leaves for periods of from one to three months. Another lieutenant and two more midshipmen added their requests on the 25th. On the 29th, Lieutenant Ellery received detachment orders and a passed midshipman and a midshipman submitted their requests, to be followed on the 30th by one from Chaplain James Everest and an iteration by the sailing master. The departmental response was, in every case but one, to grant the requests without comment. In two other cases, the amount of leave requested made it appear the petitioners would return prior to the ship's next sailing.
None of these requests contained any indication of problems on board the ship, and until Purser Henry Etting wrote a letter on 4 July, no clue is to be found in the extant record. In requesting detachment, Etting reported that the previous day he had encountered some problems with incorrect forms picked up ashore. Because Captain Elliott had given him specific orders involving the forms, Etting sent him a note detailing the difficulty. The captain, however, was not then on board and did not see the note until early the next morning, when he hit the ceiling.
First Lieutenant Montgomery was sent to the purser to inform him that he was suspended from duty for not having carried out the order. Montgomery's subsequent report to Elliott on the problems encountered by Etting made no difference. It was the straw that broke the purser's back, coming as it did on the heels of the other requirements the captain placed on him during the voyage. His detachment request concluded by saying that he and "many others" had the "hope & belief . . . that the present Commander would not be continued in [the ship]," and that "with any other commander I should be pleased to remain attached to the Constitution." Eight days later, Etting received notice that he would be detached, and his replacement acknowledged receipt of orders.
The Departures Continue
After this initial flurry of officer requests, things seem to have quieted down in the wardroom. During this period, it became clear that many Sailors were similarly aggrieved by their situation in the frigate and were deserting in a steady stream. One factor almost certainly was the circumstances, of which no record has been found, surrounding the deaths of ten or more men during the short European voyage—a record for the ship on a peacetime cruise of that duration. At least 45 men would desert in the seven weeks after her return to the United States. Another 24, at a minimum, requested discharge on a variety of humanitarian grounds, and many of the petitions were granted. (Captain Elliott's typical response to departmental queries in these cases was to the effect of "good riddance.")
Mid-July saw the resumption of requests from the officers. Lieutenant W. C. Nicholson led off on the 15th, followed by a passed midshipman on the 18th, and two more on the 21st. Assistant Surgeon Isaac Brinckerhoff asked off on the following day and Acting Second Master John M. Berrien on the next. Surgeon Boyd asked that his leave be extended on the 24th, and two more passed midshipmen filed similar requests the day after that. (One of these, Charles Crillon Barton, was denied his on Captain Elliott's recommendation.) The most significant defection of all occurred on 28 July. Lieutenant John Berrien Montgomery, the executive officer whom his captain styled as "efficient & indefatigable," requested detachment. It was granted. The final lieutenant to leave, Levin M. Powell, did so on 3 August. In his wake came the last of the midshipmen departees, Stephen Decatur Trenchard and William E. Newton.
It seems quite astounding from this distance in time that personnel turmoil of such dimension could occur in a single ship in such a short period and not draw departmental interest. Perhaps it was a combination of Elliott's seniority and the ready availability of willing replacements that made this possible. With purser Etting's 4 July letter the only complaining voice, departmental interest was not aroused. It would require an ensuing three-year cruise in the Mediterranean to bring things to a boil.
Early in that deployment, Elliott took umbrage at one of his new lieutenants and confined him to his stateroom for so long the surgeon had to plead for his release on health grounds. Passed Midshipman Barton got himself on the Commodore's wrong side by engaging in a duel. Badly wounded in the leg, he was abandoned in Smyrna, Turkey, to recover, largely without funds. Fortunately for Barton, local American businessmen came to his aid. As time went on, and news of Elliott's didoes began to be read and noticed at home, he convened a court-martial to try some of the shipboard writers. When the court acquitted them, he tried unsuccessfully to court-martial the board.
By the time the Constitution returned home, Elliott had accepted gifts from a foreign power, contrary to regulations; bribed some of the crew to reenlist; apparently arranged to have the crew "spontaneously" purchase some silver plate for him; loaded the ship with artifacts (including a Roman sarcophagus and a stuffed ibis) and about two dozen head of livestock (Arabians, jackasses and jennies, sheep, etc.); and suffered a non-lethal mutiny, which he failed to report. This time, the drumbeat for departmental action could not be ignored. Jesse Elliott was court-martialed and suspended from duty—without pay for a portion of the time—for five years. Principals among the witnesses against him were the surgeon who had not deserted after the trip to France and Passed Midshipman Charles Crillon Barton. He died a few months after resuming active duty in 1845.
And what of the gentlemen mutineers of the summer of 1835? Were they a group of malcontents? How did their careers play out?
Of the 20, nine went on to significant rank: four rear admirals, three commodores, and two commanders. They commanded at least 12 warships. One (along with family members) was commemorated by the naming of a torpedo boat and two destroyers. And one served as a commander in both the U.S. and Confederate States navies.
In sum, the officers involved in this unhappy incident in Old lronsides' career were a group of representative professionals. What a pity that yet another wardroom had to suffer through the likes of Jesse Duncan Elliott for three years before his outrageous conduct drew the official sanction it so richly deserved.
Sources: The Constitution's log for the March-June 1835 cruise is missing. The primary sources are the letters of the participants, in the National Archives Microfilm Series M124 (Miscellaneous Letters Received by the Secretary of the Navy, 1801-1884), Rolls 148-149; M125, (Letters Received by the Secretary of the Navy From Captains, 1805- 61), Rolls 204, 206-209; M148 (Letters Received by the Secretary of the Navy From Commissioned Officers Below The Rank Of Commander and From Warrant Officers, 1802-1884), Rolls 100-102; and M149 (Letters Sent by the Secretary of the Navy, 1798-1868), Roll 24.