One hundred years ago, on August 18, 1838, the first United States naval exploring expedition set sail from Hampton Roads under the command of Lieutenant Charles Wilkes. Although, according to authorities on the subject, this was one of the most important expeditions ever undertaken by the government from the standpoint of scientific exploration and discovery, it has remained obscure in history. Much has been written, very little read, and that little —in most cases—forgotten concerning the 4-year voyage of these tiny wooden ships, the discoveries made by their personnel, and the hardships endured by the men. Indeed, even the leader, Charles Wilkes, is better remembered by the average person for his famous arrest and seizure of Mason and Slidell than for his vast contributions to science which resulted from this expedition.
On this, the one-hundredth anniversary of the beginning of their daring voyage, let us briefly review their travels and exploits, giving due credit to the courageous men who participated in the explorations —and their leader. For in the final analysis, it was the discovery, made by this expedition, of an antarctic continent which laid the foundation for the explorations of Admiral Byrd and others decades later.
The expedition was authorized by Congress for the purpose of “exploring and surveying the South Seas.” Accompanied by naturalists, botanists, mineralogists, taxidermists, a philologist—and a pet dog, if I may bring in a family story—Lieutenant Wilkes set sail in command of six ships on August 18, 1838.
The ships reached Rio de Janeiro late in November and stayed there until January of 1839 when they left for Orange Harbor at the southernmost tip of South America. It was in Rio de Janeiro that Lieutenant Wilkes’ pet dog first evinced his great love for—and inability to hold—grog. He would go ashore with the sailors, consume great quantities of the stuff, and stagger back to the ship. Lieutenant Wilkes promptly put him in irons until he “sobered up.” He used to say that apparently the dog understood the punishment, for he invariably repeated his offense each time they made port and, upon his return to the ship, would waddle on shaky legs right to the irons and wait to be locked in!
While at Orange Harbor the ships made several brief excursions into the surrounding waters but were forced to return to their base because of heavy fog and ice. Disaster overtook the squadron when they left Orange Harbor for Valparaiso. The Sea Gull encountered heavy weather and went down with all hands. The Relief, a slow sailing storeship, was ordered home at this time, leaving Lieutenant Wilkes to continue with four ships.
These touched at Callao, then started across the Pacific. After spending a month surveying the Lower Archipelago, establishing temporary observatories and stations, the expedition visited Tahiti. The story is told that, at Clermont de Tonnerre, one of the many islands visited at this time, a landing force encountered unfriendly natives whom Wilkes subdued by having his men fire mustard seed at their legs. It is also said that this act on his part was one of a series of incidents with natives that brought him sharp official criticism and charges of exceeding his authority along with commendation for his discoveries—upon his return to the United States. It is generally believed that he was a rather domineering individual who ruled with an exceedingly firm hand, but perhaps that was the very reason he was chosen to command the first governmental scientific expedition ever undertaken by the United States. Certainly it was no job for a “weak sister!”
The ships proceeded to the Samoan Islands where temporary headquarters were established at Tutuila. From this Point excursions were made to the surrounding islands before they proceeded to Sydney, Australia, which was to be the base for the antarctic expedition. The day after Christmas, 1839, they departed from Sydney but their ranks were depleted when one of the vessels was forced to turn hack because of the heavy ice. Undaunted, the three remaining ships pushed on, despite the constant danger of being crushed by icebergs.
On January 13, 1840, the commanding officer of the Porpoise reported land for the first time since leaving Sydney. The Antarctic Continent had been discovered!
Other expeditions in the vicinity at this time reported sighting land shortly after this date. Consequently, great controversies arose as to which explorer was actually the “first” to discover the Antarctic Continent. It is generally conceded, however, after an exhaustive search of all of the records involved, that Wilkes deserves this credit. Sir Ernest Shackleton and Sir Douglas Mawson are among those who confirmed Wilkes’ discoveries. A portion of the Antarctic Continent on present-day maps is labeled “Wilkesland” in honor of Charles Wilkes.
Another vessel dropped from the ranks of Wilkes’ squadron when the Peacock was caught in an ice jam and received severe injuries, including a broken rudder, which forced her to return to Sydney. The Vincennes and the Porpoise, however, continued on their way. They visited the Fiji Islands and Hawaii, and then finally headed for the western coast of America where they arrived at the mouth of the Columbia River in the spring of 1841.
As a result of the boundary dispute then in progress (“54-40 or fight”), the Secretary of State, Webster, recognized the necessity of securing a good harbor on the Pacific. San Francisco was a Mexican possession at this time. Consequently, Wilkes was detailed to survey the region and report his findings.
Wilkes first attempted to enter the Columbia River but was forced to abandon this project as he was unable to locate the channel. For this reason he left the sloop of war Peacock, which had joined him, to cruise on the coast while he continued with the sloop of war Vincennes and the brig Porpoise to Puget Sound where he made extensive surveys. Incidentally, the Peacock was lost shortly thereafter in a subsequent attempt to enter the Columbia River. All hands were saved on this occasion.
Wilkes visited Cowlitz, Astoria, Fort Vancouver, and the settlements in the Willamette Valley. He was enthusiastic in his reports of the harbors of Puget Sound. These were at first communicated confidentially to the Senate by President Tyler because of the boundary negotiations then in progress. Wilkes was detailed later (1844) to prepare his report for publication and in the 17 years of his editorial work 16 volumes appeared. The last published volume was issued in 1874. Five were never printed. The government edition of those published was limited to 100 sets and, according to one authority,
These precious documents were not appreciated by some of the libraries of the States and Territories where they were deposited, even in the Pacific Northwest, and were allowed to scatter. The Wilkes report which is most familiar to readers is a reissue of the five volumes of Narrative.
It is interesting to note that during this time (1841) while he was exploring Puget Sound and the vicinity, Wilkes held the first Fourth of July celebration ever to be solemnized on the west coast. This took place near what is now American Lake in the state of Washington. An Indian girl acted as his interpreter on this occasion, as on others.
The end of the long adventuresome journey came in July, 1842, when the remnants of the proud squadron sailed into New York Harbor. More than 280 islands had been surveyed, 800 miles of the coast and streams of Oregon had been traversed, and 1,500 miles of land on the Antarctic Continent had been “laid down.” The expedition provided some of the most complete maps ever drawn. Accounts of native customs, drawings of little-known places, botanical and geologic specimens were brought back to form an important part of this country’s scientific data. The numerous specimens of the flora of the various countries visited were the nucleus, I understand, which started the present Botanical Gardens in Washington, D. C.
The expedition’s mission ended, what of Wilkes? He was promoted to the rank of commander in 1843 and we hear of him again—although most histories do not record it—in the tragic explosion aboard the Princeton in 1844. The Princeton, the newest and finest type of steamship then in our Navy, arrived in the Potomac in February, 1844, and naturally was the object of much interest. She was driven by a screw propeller and had in her armament the first two wire-wound guns of large caliber, which had been named the “Peacemaker” and the “Oregon.” The President, the Secretaries of State and of the Navy, several Senators, and a party of ladies and gentlemen boarded the new vessel at the invitation of her Captain for a pleasure trip down the Potomac on February 28, 1844. For the amusement of the guests on the way down the river, the great bow gun “Peacemaker” was fired twice without incident. After luncheon, on the way back, a few of the guests gathered on deck and asked to have it fired again. Anxious to oblige and to show off his new equipment, Captain Stockton gave the order. On the second discharge the gun burst. When the smoke cleared away Upshur, Secretary of State; Gilmer, Secretary of the Navy; Commander Kennon; and several of the other guests lay dead on the deck. Many others were stunned and 17 sailors were wounded. Commodore Wilkes and his son were among the survivors of the catastrophe.
Wilkes was promoted to the rank of Captain in 1855. He next “made the headlines” in the Mason and Slidell affair, in 1861. At the outbreak of the Civil War he was placed in command of the San Jacinto and sent to the West Indies area in search of the Confederate cruiser Sumter. While on this mission, he overhauled the British mail packet Trent in the Bahama Channel, fired a shot across her bow without result and then a shell which brought her to. His lieutenant and a number of his men boarded the Trent and took from her by force James M. Mason and John Slidell who were en route to the Continent to attempt to raise funds for the Confederate cause.
News of the seizure was received by the people of the North with jubilation and celebration. The city of Boston gave a huge banquet in honor of Captain Wilkes at which Governor Andrew and other dignitaries spoke with enthusiasm and presented him with an elaborate sword on behalf of the city of Boston in recognition of his coup. Incidentally, this sword—with hilt of mother-of-pearl, encrusted with rubies and emeralds and with the initials “CW” in tiny diamonds on the scabbard— has been on display for some years in the Smithsonian Museum. Secretary Welles sent a congratulatory letter to Wilkes and Welles is authority for the statement that all members of the Cabinet, with the exception of Blair, shared his own jubilation and that of the House and the country in general at the arrest of Mason and Slidell. The prevailing sentiment seemed to be that not only were the latter now prevented from doing harm to the Union cause abroad, but also that they would make excellent hostages! Wilkes was officially thanked by Congress for his action ln this matter, although his course was later disavowed by President Lincoln. Such is the penalty for fame! Public acclaim and official reprimand—or vice versa!
Wilkes commanded the Potomac flotilla ln 1862, and later the flying squadron which was ordered to prevent blockade running between the West Indies and the Confederacy and to protect United States commerce in that region. He was placed on the retired list on July 25, 1866, and Purchased the Dolly Madison House on Lafayette Square (now the Cosmos Club), Washington, D. C., for his residence.
Born in New York City, April 3,1798,— died in Washington, D. C., February 8, 1877. These meager facts reveal little of the full life experienced by Charles Wilkes. The high lights of an almost forgotten career have been mentioned here for the perusal of those who do not say “What difference can it make a hundred years from now?” A foundation must be laid before a structure can be completed. In view of the tremendous amount of exploration accomplished in recent years on the Antarctic Continent by the intrepid adventurers of the present day, equipped with the latest aids to scientific discovery, it seems only fitting to pause a moment “a hundred years from then” to give thought to the brave men who fared forth to seek the unknown, those who laid the foundation for later exploration by taking the initial steps in the discovery of a new continent—and their commander, Charles Wilkes.
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Do you so throw yourself into all branches of work that you kindle a like enthusiasm in your men? When the sun is hottest, or the rain has turned the coal dust to mud, are you there in the middle of it, encouraging? Do you correct his mistakes consistently and thoroughly, or apparently just when the mood strikes you? When he transgresses the law do you deal with him in such fashion that he realizes why he was wrong and should henceforth do better, or do you merely give the impression of having worked off a bit of temper? If in trouble or needing help or advice, are you the first man he would turn to, or the last?
Are you a true leader in the sense that your influence and example make men give freely of their best efforts, or are you a sort of human lemon-squeezer that by dint of much pressure extracts a little sour obedience? All these questions it were well to ask yourself before looking in the mirror with too much satisfaction and asking permission to go ashore! Have faith in your men! — Parker, Leadership.