The Valparaiso Incident Reassessed

Certain facts are indisputable. On Wednesday, 3 February 1814, the United States frigate Essex, armed with 46 guns, dropped anchor in Chile's Valparaiso harbor. She was accompanied by the Essex Junior, a recently taken prize that had subsequently been armed with ten 6-pounders and ten 18-pounder carronades.¹ The Essex, under the command of Captain David Porter, had spent the previous year harrying the British whaling fleet in the Pacific. It was a task that had proved highly successful, some 4,000 tons of shipping taken, with Porter a serious threat to British prosperity in the area. To bring an end to this situation, a number of British warships were ordered to search out and destroy the American frigate. Among these ships were the 36-gun frigate Phoebe and an accompanying sloop, the 18-gun Cherub.

On Monday, 8 February, having entered the wide sweeping bay that gave access to the harbor at Valparaiso, the masthead lookout on board the Phoebe caught sight of the upper masts of the Essex. Captain James Hillyar, commanding the British frigate and commodore of the small squadron, ordered an immediate entry into the port, signaling Captain Thomas Tudor Tucker of the Cherub to follow. As the two vessels came within hailing distance of the Essex, Hillyar assured his American counterpart that he had no intentions of infringing on the neutrality of Valparaiso harbor. True to his word, the British ships anchored and proceeded to take on stores. Eventually, with the American ships remaining in harbor, the British warships returned to sea and immediately positioned themselves in the outer bay.

It was a situation that continued for almost six weeks. In the back of Porter's mind was the possibility of additional ships soon joining the blockading squadron and, for this reason, he made a number of attempts at leaving the harbor. The last of these was on 28 March, with the Phoebe and Cherub positioned on the weather shore, close to Angel Point. The promontory lay at the southern end of the bay, with Porter planning to maneuver between the ships and the headland and thereby gain the advantage of the prevailing wind. Luck, however, was against him. A sudden squall struck his vessel and took with it the main topmast. This considerably reduced the Essex's maneuverability, allowing Hillyar to dictate the subsequent battle. In such a situation, the Essex stood not a chance. While she carried more guns, the majority were carronades and of value only at close range. For her part, the Phoebe mainly possessed long 18-pounders that could be used to a range of about one mile. Not surprisingly, Hillyar maintained the distance that was best suited to these longer-range guns, with Porter having to rely entirely on six long 12-pounders spread between the spar and gun decks. Eventually, at 1820, with the Essex much damaged, Porter surrendered his ship.

The Fight after the Battle

These are the basic facts. Beyond them, all else has been in contention. From the very outset, Porter took issue with the British captain, criticizing much that Hillyar wrote in an official published account. In particular, Porter made two observations: The Essex, at the time of the attack, had been in neutral waters, and the Phoebe had continued firing after the U.S. frigate had surrendered. And the debate did not end there. A number of leading naval historians have also clashed over the precise events that took place. British naval historian William James, in an account of the battle first published in the 1820s, questioned the efficiency and courage of those on board the Essex: "When the British officers boarded the Essex, buckets of spirits were found in all parts of the main deck, and most of the prisoners were in a state of intoxication. . . . The firing of the Essex [was] very irregular; and nearly all her shot went over the British ships."²

American novelist and historian James Fenimore Cooper, having little doubt that the crew of the Essex showed efficiency throughout the action, ferociously attacked this suggestion. He declared it "not possible for [their] efforts to be more coolly made, or better directed."³ As for their failure to get off a more effective series of broadsides, Cooper explained that during the initial attack, "the Essex, through great exertion of the master and boatswain, had succeeded in getting springs on the cable no less than three different times, but before the ship's broadside could be sprung to bear, they were as often shot away."⁴

Also entering the debate was Theodore Roosevelt, who challenged the intoxication claim, while pointing out that "Most of the time her [Essex's] resistance was limited to firing such of her six long guns as would bear."⁵

Further disputants entered the fray during the 20th century, among them Alfred Thayer Mahan and C. S. Forester. Both viewed as plausible the possibility of the sea fight taking place within neutral waters. While Mahan admittedly gave only scant attention to the affair, he was nevertheless sufficiently concerned to declare that Hillyar was very definitely within neutral waters. Forester, a writer noted for his creation of the fictional Hornblower, unquestionably adopted the traditional British viewpoint—as laid down by James. He questioned much that had been written by Cooper and Roosevelt, going on to defend Hillyar's right to attack in waters Porter had claimed to be within neutral territory.

Neutral Waters Defined

To provide greater clarity it is necessary to backtrack to the second week of February 1814, when the warships of the two combatant nations were moored close alongside one another in Valparaiso harbor. On the 9th, the day after the British ships had entered the harbor, the first of a series of shore-based meetings between the two commanders took place. Porter later outlined the gist of the ensuing discussion:

I took occasion to tell Captain Hillyar, it was very important that I should know of him, whether he intended to respect the neutrality of the port. He replied, with much emphasis and earnestness: "You have paid so much respect to the neutrality of the port, that I feel myself bound in honour to respect it." I told him the assurance was sufficient, and that it would place me more at ease, since I should no longer feel it necessary to be always prepared for action.⁶

As it stands, this is simply an agreement not to fight while in the port area of Valparaiso. Yet with the intrusion of the word "neutrality" is the suggestion subsequently made by Porter that Hillyar's capture of his vessel was also a breach of those rights of neutrality both captains appear to be recognizing.

That a nation had rights over its immediate coastline had long been accepted, partly to prevent the war-like actions of one state from extending into the harbors and rivers of a neutral country. Where a problem existed, it was not so much the concept but rather the measured distance of sea that fell into a country's jurisdiction. Some nations, most notably Denmark and Norway, held to a continuous belt, sometimes extending out to three leagues (12 miles) around the entire coastline. Others adopted the cannon-shot rule, a rather imprecise distance (but never less than one mile) that pertained to waters contiguous to coastal batteries.⁷ In the latter case, any ship under attack could seek protection if she entered into an area within range of even a single gun, it being the duty and right of every government to exercise protecting power over all persons and property coming into the sphere of its jurisdiction. In time, the two separate notions of a continuous belt and the cannon-shot rule would be merged, with the range of shore-based artillery accepted as three miles and this same distance seen as continuous, irrespective of the existence of an actual gun battery. In 1814, however, Britain (except when dealing with the Scandinavian states) still tended to accept the cannon-shot rule when artillery was in place.⁸ Americans, meanwhile, viewed entire coastlines as neutral zones.

Admittedly, this does introduce a certain complication. If we accept Porter's statement, however, Hillyar clearly viewed Valparaiso as a neutral port. In doing so, he was applying the accepted British rule, that the port was protected by artillery. By extension, therefore, any part of the Chilean coastline similarly protected must also be regarded as neutral.

Chile, Spain, and a Junta

To extract Hillyar from this particular predicament, one of his defenders, C. S. Forester, chose to dispute Chilean neutrality. Valparaiso and the surrounding area that included the capital city of Santiago was in the hands of a separatist junta striving to acquire greater autonomy within the empire of Spain. According to Forester, and referring to the rapidly concluding war in Europe, Spain was an ally of Britain, leading to the somewhat questionable conclusion that "if Chile were in rebellion against Spain then she was an enemy of Great Britain."⁹ Yet Forester was completely wrong.

While it might have been an ally of England in the war against Napoleon, Spain had at no time declared war on the United States. Furthermore, the United States was no friend of Napoleon's. As for Chile, the rebellion against Spain in no way alters the fact that the Chilean junta never acted hostilely toward either Britain or the United States. In this respect, therefore, Hillyar and Porter were both correct when they saw the harbor of Valparaiso as neutral.

Returning to Valparaiso, the two captains continued their occasional meetings, with Porter attempting to persuade Hillyar to agree to a prearranged battle at sea. In order to reach a more equal balance of power, Porter asked Hillyar to send the Cherub away.

The War of Banners

Within the harbor itself another contest was also under way. The British and American ships had entered into a war of propaganda. It began the day following the arrival of the two British ships, with the Essex raising a white flag that carried the words "Free Trade and Sailors Rights" —the slogan embodying what the United States believed it was trying to preserve—embroidered on it. Hillyar, in a letter written to the British Admiralty, described his own response to what he considered an "insidious effort" to undermine the loyalty of his crew:

I had ordered to be worked on our St. George's Ensign "God and their Country, Sailors best rights, traitors offend both." On hoisting the Ensign, the crew of the Essex manned the rigging and gave three cheers. I ordered our little band to play God Save the King, which we first cheer'd and returned that of our Enemies. Boats full of liberty Men afterwards passed us, the parties carrying small Flags with inscriptions on them, such as "Sons of Commerce, Free Trade" &c who on landing, paraded on the Hills and before the ships shouting very insultingly, I am happy to say all this and much more was borne with a temper and forbearance by the crews of both.¹⁰

The raising of the two opposing ship flags apparently created a further topic of conversation between Hillyar and Porter. Porter defended the motto carried by his ship, claiming it was for purposes of pleasing themselves. As for the one carried by the British ship, he considered it insulting, especially as it was based on the false assumption that the crew of the Essex was not of American citizenry. For this reason, on 12 February, the U.S. frigate displayed a second flag, this one carrying the motto, "God, Our Country, and Liberty—Tyrants Offend Them."

On 15 February, the situation dramatically changed when the two British ships left the harbor inlet and established a more distant blockade. The reason was subsequently made clear by Commodore Sir William Bowles, a Royal Navy officer situated in Buenos Aires, in a letter to Admiral Sir Manley Dixon, senior naval officer on the South American station. Captain Hillyar, after receiving intelligence that the Americans were intending to insist on the neutrality of the port and on the Phoebe's being detained 24 hours after the Essex sailed, went out immediately and continued cruising off the harbor's mouth.¹¹

The Phoebe and Cherub proceeded to hold the weather shore and maintain a constant watch over activities in the port. Usually the log of the two ships simply recorded "Enemy at Anchor," "American frigate Essex and Little Essex at anchor," or some variation thereof. On occasion though, the Essex did give the appearance of attempting to leave the harbor, with an exchange of shot taking place on the afternoon of 27 February. Although the Essex was first to open fire, she did not do so until several miles offshore and therefore outside any area that might be claimed as within a neutral zone.¹²

The Commanders' Views

As with much else at Valparaiso during that period, the actual sequence of events occurring on that day has also been bitterly contested. According to Porter, during the afternoon the two British ships became separated when the Cherub was unexpectedly becalmed two miles to leeward while the Phoebe lay off the harbor entrance. According to Porter's Journal, the Phoebe shortened sail "and hoisted the flag containing the motto intended as an answer to mine."¹³ Porter took this as the challenge for which he had been hoping: "I followed her—increased sail—and was closing with her very fast, when, to my astonishment, she bore up before the wind, and ran down for her consort."¹⁴

Hillyar's account, on the other hand, was very different. In a letter written the same day, he informed his superior at the Admiralty: "The Essex has been three times under weigh, and last evening with her consort we expected her to close with us as the Cherub was separated some miles from calms and variable winds during the earlier part of the day, but they returned to their anchorage."¹⁵

Porter, in having failed to bring the Phoebe into action, was quite indignant and let it be known throughout Valparaiso that Hillyar had acted in a cowardly manner. This came to the attention of the British captain, who commanded his first lieutenant to meet the American and inform him that the firing of the gun and the hoisting of the flag were not intended as a challenge but as a signal to the Cherub.¹⁶ This same version of events had already been written into Hillyar's logbook:

At 5.30 Cherub N by W 6 miles. Made signal to make more sail and to close with a gun. Set top gallant sails. At 6.15 tack'd. Enemy's Frigate ESE 4 miles. At 6.45 saw Enemy's frigate and sloop of war get under weigh and stand out of the Bay towards us. Back'd the main top sail. Shew'd our colours.¹⁷

Not until 28 March did the Essex again leave harbor, with Porter attempting to outmaneuver the two British ships by passing to windward. At the very moment of rounding Angel Point, his vessel was struck by a sudden squall, with the main topmast carried away just below the lower cap. As far as Hillyar was concerned, with the Essex unable to regain Valparaiso harbor, the fate of his enemy was now sealed. In his official report to the Admiralty, with a copy published in a number of British and American newspapers, Hillyar provided a version of what took place:

On rounding the outer point of the bay and hauling her wind, for the purpose of endeavouring to weather us and escape, she lost her main topmast, and afterwards, not succeeding in an effort to regain the limits of the port, she bore up and anchored so near the shore (a few miles to leeward of it) as to preclude the possibility of either of his majesty's ships passing ahead of her without risk.¹⁸

It is essential that the words in italics—a few miles to leeward—are noted. They do not accord with a version of events that Hillyar had written in his captain's log probably on the same day as the Essex was captured. Almost certainly the log provides a far more accurate account, especially as it was not written for public consumption. In it, the Essex's distance from shore is considerably less than a few miles: "Obs'd the Enemy to lose his main topmast and soon afterwards he bore up and ran along shore. At 4 the Enemy anchor'd about half-a-mile from land."¹⁹

Porter, in his published Journal, was most emphatic about his ship's distance from the shoreline: "I ran close into a small bay, about three quarters of a mile to leeward of the battery, on the east side of the harbour, and let go my anchor within pistol shot of the shore, where I intended to repair my damage as soon as possible."²⁰

The conclusion is obvious. At the time she was attacked, the Essex, whether by British or American definition, was in neutral waters. Furthermore, Porter was expecting and should have received protection from the guns of that nearby battery. Even more damning, and revealing that Hillyar was also aware of his transgression, was the British captain's later attempt at exaggerating the American vessel's distance from shore, using that imprecise statement—a few miles to leeward—and failing to mention the proximity of the Chilean gun battery. Under no circumstance should Hillyar have initiated further hostilities, and he should have remained outside Valparaiso's protected waters until the Essex left those waters or had returned to harbor.

An even more disturbing accusation against Hillyar was his continuing to fire into the Essex after she had surrendered. In his Journal, Porter stated that although colors were struck at 1820, "the enemy still continued to fire." To emphasize that he had surrendered, a gun facing away from the action was fired:

but they did not desist; four men were killed at my side, and others in  different parts of the ship. I now believed he intended to show us no quarters, and that it would be as well to die with my flag flying as struck, and was on the point of again hoisting it, when about ten minutes after hauling the colours down he ceased firing!²¹

Further evidence comes from an unnamed crew member of the Essex who in an account for the New York Gazette, stated that "the enemy continued firing for some time after our flag was struck."²² After Porter returned to the United States in July, many newspapers carried a copy of a letter he had written to the secretary of the Navy. In it, he mounted a vitriolic attack against the British commodore:

I now consider my situation less unpleasant than that of Commodore Hillyar, who, in violation of every principle of honour and generosity, and regardless of the right of nations, attacked the Essex in her crippled state, within pistol shot of a neutral shore; when for six weeks I had daily offered him fair and honourable combat, on terms greatly to his advantage; the blood of the slain must be upon his head, and he has yet to reconcile his conduct to heaven, to his conscience and to the world.²³

The U.S. Press Weighs In

Not surprisingly, a great number of American newspapers, fired by Porter's declaration, came to his support. The Washington National Intellegencer claimed that Porter "had vainly imagined that the honor of the officers would not violate a known and fundamental principle, he could have run his ship on shore, fired her, and saved his brave officers and men.²⁴ The Shamrock, a New York newspaper, was even more forthright:

It was the neutrality that saved the coward [Hillyar] from destruction. He pledged his honor to respect it—the honor of an English officer—the cloak beneath which lies a midnight assassin; he stole upon his unsuspecting victim.²⁵

The Washington Daily Advertiser took a more considered approach, venting much of its spleen toward those in authority at Valparaiso:

Our cause of complaint (if any) is against Spain, or the government whose rights as a neutral are invaded; and if she suffered one of our ships, which entered her harbor in reliance upon the protection, which we had there a right to claim from her neutrality, to be captured under the guns of a fort which was able to protect her, or even, if after the capture, it was in her power to compel the captors to make retribution, then our complaint will be just.²⁶

The Advertiser was correct; Valparaiso should have offered protection to the damaged Essex. The nearby gun battery should have fired on the Phoebe the moment she made her intentions clear. Yet no such order was given. The reason is not difficult to fathom. At that time, the junta controlling much of Chile was hard-pressed by royalist forces advancing from Peru. Entering into hostilities with a warship that represented the most powerful navy in the world was the last thing it wished for—quite the reverse, in fact, for Hillyar was regarded as a friend. Soon he would be acting as a peace broker between the junta and the royalists it was fighting. In this role he proved an able ambassador for the junta, acquiring not only recognition for its newly achieved autonomy but also a right to send deputies to the Spanish parliament.²⁷

British and American naval historians began picking up their cudgels from that point onward, for the most part supporting the captains of their respective countries. While the general debate may continue, what is clear is that Hillyar had doubts about the correctness of his action. With Porter having made him aware that the legality of his combat was to be challenged, he immediately produced a distorted account of events that suggested that the battle took place outside neutral waters.