Boston throbbed with anticipation on 1 June 1813. The USS Chesapeake had set sail to engage HMS Shannon in a ship-to-ship duel, the kind of naval contest Americans had come to relish. Few in Boston doubted the outcome: Whatever their criticisms about "Mr. Madison's War," the numerous local Federalists, as much as Republicans, expected victory. After all, the U.S. Navy had bested British ships before in the War of 1812. Why should the Chesapeake be any different? Her commander, James Lawrence, an aggressive, fighting captain, had previously led the USS Hornet over HMS Peacock, winning plaudits. Not surprisingly, crowds of well-wishers lined the coastal hills and city rooftops hoping to glimpse the fight, while small craft escorted the Chesapeake from the harbor. Confident Bostonians planned a celebratory dinner on Lawrence's triumphant return.1
Events at sea, however, took an unexpected turn. In fighting the Shannon, the U.S. frigate encountered a formidable adversary no less determined to prevail. The battle proved short and ugly. The Chesapeake exchanged furious broadsides alongside the Shannon at pistol-shot range but the Shannon's gunnery exacted a greater toll, with Captain Lawrence and First Lieutenant William Ludlow mortally wounded in the first minutes. British marines poured deadly fire into the Chesapeake's decks. The twice-wounded Lawrence, although carried below, vainly attempted to rally his men by saying "Don't give up the ship." The American crew needed more than brave words; after 15 minutes of battle, they were beaten, with half either dead or wounded in the war's bloodiest naval engagement. Lawrence died several days later as the Shannon escorted her prize into Halifax, Nova Scotia.2
That Lawrence died bravely was readily accepted, but the Chesapeake's defeat was less easily explained. Unaccustomed to naval failures, Americans constructed a patriotic scenario with heroes and villains to clarify events. They read accounts, exchanged news, and advanced theories. The Navy later blamed a subordinate white officer and a black bugler for the defeat, but civilians initially grasped at snippets of information based on distant sightings and uncertain sources to fashion a heroic narrative that explained the "experience of defeat." This tale left Lawrence untarnished, his martyrdom secured, with the blame placed elsewhere.3
The U.S. Navy ranked high in many Americans' estimation. Exploits in the Quasi-War and war with Tripoli during the late-18th and early-19th centuries furnished instances of American naval gallantry against French and Arab opponents. Blistering frigate actions and daring sorties earned applause at home, with naval officers receiving medals in recognition of their exploits. Indeed, by 1812 Congressman Samuel L. Mitchell reassured his colleagues that American mariners could "spring a cable and weigh an anchor more expertly than the trans-Atlantic sailors." They had, in his words, "really wrought wonders."4
An Unfortunate Ship
By contrast, the Chesapeake garnered more notoriety than praise. Routine patrols, not gallant actions, had comprised the frigate's early career until the Jefferson administration put her in ordinary. In 1807, the recently refitted Chesapeake tangled with HMS Leopard, and the Americans fired only a single cannon shot before surrendering and permitting the British to seize four crewmembers. The Chesapeake was disgraced and her captain, James Barron, cashiered from the service. Nor did the War of 1812 dramatically improve the ship's reputation. Capturing enemy merchant vessels, as the Chesapeake did, prompted fewer public accolades than bold actions against British military vessels.5
James Lawrence wished to improve the score. He disdained the role of commerce raider, preferring to aim his broadsides at military vessels—his sense of naval honor demanded no less. That his crew may have been insufficiently trained and his officers new to the command did not shake Lawrence's determination. With the Shannon off Boston, Lawrence had an opportunity to add luster to the service that far outweighed any concerns about the Chesapeake's battle readiness.6
Captain Philip Bowes Vere Broke, commander of the British frigate, penned a challenge, which Lawrence never received, requesting the honor of combat. Like other British captains, he found American naval victories deeply embarrassing; they tarnished the honor of His Majesty's Navy, undermining morale among sailors and civilians alike. Broke was also well prepared to fight. If some captains preferred to go alongside and blast their opponents indiscriminately, Broke expected his men to aim their cannons carefully, fire, and rapidly reload. Eager for a ship to ship duel, Broke ordered the Tenedos, another British frigate, to depart, hoping this would lure the Chesapeake out. Lawrence took the bait.7
The battle between the Chesapeake and Shannon arose amid high expectations. Lawrence wanted to add to the Navy's laurels; Broke wanted to avenge British dishonor. Reminding his men of a former American naval triumph, when his ship the USS Hornet sank HMS Peacock, Lawrence instructed them to "Peacock her my lads, Peacock her!" Broke, meanwhile, sought to inspire his crew with recollections of British naval defeats: "Remember your comrades—from the Guerrière, from the Macedonia and from the Java—you have the blood of hundreds to avenge today. The eyes of all Europe are upon you."8
When the battle began, Lawrence decided to exchange broadsides at close range instead of raking the Shannon. However, the British crew's superior gunnery—the result of Broke's training—wrecked havoc on the Chesapeake. The two ships became entangled, enabling the Shannon to rake her adversary. Lawrence and Ludlow were quickly wounded, leaving the quarterdeck in a state of confusion and without a viable command presence. Boarders from the Shannon swept over the Chesapeake's deck, and the battle was soon over with an impressive butcher bill to show.9
Conspiracy Theories to the Fore
In Boston, crowds assembled at street corners as rumors multiplied about the Chesapeake's fate. On 3 June 1813, the Boston Gazette, noting the contradictory battle reports, refused to publish "any surmise and conjecture"; it reported that a tremendous explosion had engulfed the Chesapeake's masts in flames while the two ships were entangled. The British colors next appeared on the American frigate. In nearby Salem, the Essex Register claimed the Chesapeake had shot off the Shannon's spars, prompting the British to use "combustibles" and "inflammable matter" to win. William Bentley, a Salem clergyman, cited the explosion in his diary, adding "Every man has his take & all believe some extraordinary means for this sudden event." The Providence Gazette and Country Journal acknowledged the Chesapeake's capture "in consequence of a dreadful explosion" on 5 June. Other newspapers also attributed the Shannon's triumph to the mysterious blast.10
The explosion scenario appealed to many Americans. It suggested an unforeseen happenstance impossible to defend against that in no way dishonored the Chesapeake. As for Lawrence, his valor remained intact, for even the brave, as the Boston Patriot intoned, were "liable to accident and ambuscades, which courage could not surmount, nor prescience guard against."11
The deadly blast's origin inspired speculation. Some accounts asserted that the Chesapeake was beating the Shannon until the explosion put the Americans at a disadvantage. As such, according to this theory, the British had resorted to unfair measures to ward off defeat. The Boston Daily Advertiser suggested on 4 June that if Captain Broke had indeed employed "artifice" to cause the eruption "to effect what he could not achieve by valor," he would warrant "indignation and contempt." On 8 June, The War, a New York City newspaper, attributed the Shannon's victory to a "cowardly stratagem." A week later it baldly declared that the Shannon had thrown explosives upon the Chesapeake "like an infernal machine of new and horrible construction," which the paper labeled "base and cowardly in the extreme." The Federalist New York Evening Post proved more cautious. The paper acknowledged that if a "secret machine of the enemy" had caused the Chesapeake's defeat, the British would be dishonored. But the editor cited Moore's Navigation to show that powder flasks and stink-pots were acceptable tools of war. The Evening Post preferred to reserve judgment.12
The Centinel of Freedom in Newark, New Jersey, announced that a new and deadly device had enabled the Shannon to wrest victory from the jaws of defeat. On 15 June, the paper declared the "British commander let loose upon his antagonist, some infernal machine—some new and unexpected matter, which exploded on the deck of the Chesapeake, and has probably terminated the heroic life of Capt. Lawrence, and many of his officers and men." The U.S. ship had been unfairly and disreputably taken by the British, whose "diabolical means" to secure victory would subject them to the "universal execration of all honorable men—and all civilized nations."13
The explosion theory, however convenient, eventually faded from consideration. Information from Halifax revealed no hint of a notorious British weapon, nor did letters from American survivors mention any such device. Instead, an enemy grenade thrown on an arms chest on the quarterdeck may have caused the damage, which is what Lieutenant George Budd, the surviving senior U.S. officer, asserted on 15 June in his official account to Secretary of the Navy William Jones. On 18 June, William Bentley added in his journal, "No notice taken of the reported explosion."14
The Mismatch Hypothesis
More dispassionate observers believed the two frigates were from the outset mismatched. Disparity in the respective ships' sizes, in particular; the guns and weight of metal they threw; along with the number of sailors aboard, provided seemingly hard evidence for some Americans to explain defeat. The Essex Register on 5 June derided the British for fighting unfairly. The Shannon, the paper argued, "did not engage upon equal, manly, and honorable terms." Why? Because the Shannon boasted 38 guns to the Chesapeake's 36. Outgunned, the Chesapeake stood at a disadvantage. Earlier, Nathaniel Ames of Dedham, Massachusetts, had confided to his journal on 2 June that the Shannon was the "best in the British navy" and had "long been preparing and doubly manned." Lawrence, thought Ames, could hardly "resist the call of honor," and thus incurred defeat since the Shannon's larger crew boarded and overwhelmed the U.S. frigate's men.15
At least one newspaper, the Military Monitor and American Register, a New York City journal, considered crew size crucial. The paper argued that the Shannon had deliberately recruited men from the departing Tenedos. Hence, with the "greater part of the crew" aboard the Shannon, the British secured an unfair victory. Or as the paper put it, "victory is on one side, and glory on the other."16
|
Training versus Numbers
|
This observation gained credence in subsequent weeks. For newspaper editors, the disparity between the Chesapeake and the Shannon explained the British victory. The American Navy had been victorious before; it would be so again against an adversary of equal size. The U.S. frigate's defeat was an easily explained aberration, with several papers elaborately explaining how the Shannon had outgunned the Chesapeake. Counting long guns and carronades, editors and columnists built a de facto case in favor of the Shannon.17
In Portland, Maine, the Eastern Argus ran a letter that mentioned how the Shannon had the "guns of a SIXTY-FOUR on her main deck," emphasizing the number in bold type, with brass pieces on her quarter deck, forecastle, and tops. Some of these were so slung with tackles that they could be pointed in any direction. If this was not enough, the ship contained "every kind of combustible matter that is possible to think of." The editor added his own opinion: Like an unethical boxer, the Shannon had challenged the Chesapeake, and then, in the midst of the conflict, she had pulled a dagger from a sleeve and plunged it into the adversary's body. "Englishmen," the newspaper declared, "will rue the day that this example of barbarity was set to Americans."18
In Halifax, a wounded yet incredulous Broke boiled over with indignation upon hearing the American arguments. Writing to his wife, he noted "the foolish Americans have been publishing a thousand absurd lies." Waving aside the question of ship sizes, Broke claimed that the Chesapeake was in fact the larger vessel; moreover, he huffed, these "simpletons" (the American public) believed that "infernal machines" explained the victory. Broke concluded that the Americans "are sadly disappointed," especially the Chesapeake's crew, who had "fetters for us all upon deck ready, which came to their use."19
Rationalization Takes Over
The emotional mix of facts, half-truths, and fantasy included additional explanations. As letters arrived from captured officers in Halifax, the news of Lawrence's fatal injury added a grim poignancy to the defeat. The ship had been leaderless at a crucial moment, with Lieutenant Ludlow's injuries compounding the crisis. Blame was placed on the lower deck: Too many tars had been ashore for too long, hence seaborne discipline had yet to be established. Obviously, a few days more at sea would have redressed this slackness, but for Lawrence to avoid the Shannon meant risking dishonor. Inexperienced or not, the Chesapeake's crew had to meet the enemy.20
Americans began to rationalize the turn of events. The fact that the Shannon had suffered serious casualties gave citizens a partial sense of vindication: The Chesapeake had not surrendered easily. Perhaps most important, the dismay over the defeat could be channeled and redirected into grief over Lawrence's death. Whatever the reasons for the defeat, and Americans certainly had some of those to ponder, they permitted Lawrence to retain his iconic status. He would remain forever gallant, his sacrifice advancing him to the pantheon of naval heroes.21
The subsequent court-martial of the Chesapeake's crew in the spring of 1814 provided a degree of closure. Several members faced official scrutiny for their conduct, in particular Acting-Lieutenant William Cox. The court, headed by Captain Stephen Decatur, convicted the unfortunate Cox of "unofficer-like conduct" for bringing the wounded Lawrence below instead of staying on top, and dismissed him from the service. The court also dismissed Midshipman James W. Forest for drunkenness and reprimanded Acting-Midshipman Henry P. Fleichman for assuming an alias to win parole from the British. Seaman John Russell lost his wages for gross misconduct. And William Brown, a black bugler, was sentenced to 300 lashes plus loss of pay for cowardice, for failing to blow his bugle at a crucial moment. President James Madison mitigated the penalty to 100 lashes. Nothing was said about Lawrence boldly and perhaps recklessly engaging the enemy. His martyrdom made such criticism all but impossible, leading subordinates, especially Cox and Brown, to shoulder the blame.22
More Conspiracy and Condescension
Early chroniclers of the War of 1812 would salute Lawrence, blame the Chesapeake crew for the defeat, and castigate the British. The story circulated that a treacherous Portuguese sailor on board the Chesapeake, irate over prize money from an earlier cruise, had led a retreat below decks, allegedly saying, "so much for not paying men prize money." Postwar writers beat the drum of moral outrage as well. As William McCarty noted, "Broke studiously under-estimated the number of his guns and crew." In 1816, Benjamin Waterhouse, a prisoner of war in Halifax who gathered information from the Chesapeake's sailors, asserted the captain was a stranger to his crew. He also noted that Lawrence donned full-dress uniform to battle, a mark of respect to an opponent, while Broke wore a "short jacket and round hat." Nonetheless, Lawrence was compelled to "conquer or die," in Waterhouse's phrase, rather than risk dishonor. As before, Lawrence stood high in his countrymen's esteem; his opponent did not.23
What then explained the Chesapeake's defeat? In terms of armament, the two ships were more or less equally matched, despite the assertions of newspaper writers, nor did the Shannon have a larger crew, a point advanced by some Americans. Was the crew inexperienced? This issue is more difficult to resolve. Unlike the Chesapeake's crew, the Shannon's sailors had the advantage of having served under their captain for several years. Yet one noted naval historian, Peter Padfield, has argued this was a less than decisive factor. What did seem to matter was the training of the Shannon's gun crews: Their fire was more effective. More than any mysterious explosion, or the untimely injuries to Lawrence, the Shannon simply had the better of the Chesapeake that day.24
Perhaps James Fenimore Cooper should have the last word. A naval historian as well as novelist, Cooper could appreciate what the defeat of the Chesapeake meant to both Britons and Americans during the War of 1812. The former experienced exultation, the latter depression. Americans in time could attribute the disaster to a variety of factors—the loss of officers, the condition of the crew, British firepower, and so forth—while still honoring Lawrence. Indeed, as Cooper noted Americans "generally settled down into a sentiment of sincere respect for the high spirited Lawrence, and of deep regret for his loss." No better epitaph could be given for the captain of the Chesapeake. It also made the frigate's defeat easier to accept.25
Connecting with the Ships
Despite the passage of 194 years since the 1 June 1813 battle between the USS Chesapeake and HMS Shannon, one can still make a physical link with both ships in Great Britain. Although the Shannon was broken up in 1859, two of her 46 sister frigates of the Leda class are still afloat, and significant portions of the Chesapeake are in use today.
HMS Trincomalee—the 12th of the Leda class—was laid down in Bombay in 1816, and launched on 12 October 1817. One of two of the class built of Malabar teak instead of oak, her construction had been delayed because her plans were lost on HMS Java when she was sunk by the USS Constitution.
Trincomalee's unremarkable career began when she went straight into ordinary (reserve) for 26 years after arriving in Britain in 1819. Her most significant service came after she was modified as a 26-gun corvette. In 1847 she sailed in the West Indies and later in the Eastern campaign of the Crimean War. Despite being sold for breaking in 1897, she served as a civilian training ship, named the Foudroyant, for a further 90 years. She was restored between 1990 and 2001, and despite extensive work, retains 65 percent of her original fabric. Today, Trincomalee—the oldest ship afloat in Britain—is at the graving dock in Hartpool, England.
The Shannon's second surviving sister, HMS Unicorn, is one of the last of the class built. Her keel was laid in February 1822 in the Royal Dockyard at Chatham, and she was launched on 30 March 1824. She was immediately laid up in ordinary and in 1873 converted to a drill ship. During both world wars she served as the headquarters of the Senior Naval Officer, Dundee, Scotland. Her existence was threatened several times in the 1960s, but she's still in Dundee.
After her capture, the Chesapeake was taken into the Royal Navy under the same name, but she did not last long in British service. In 1819 she was sold for £500 to a Portsmouth timber merchant who dismantled the ship. John Prior, a miller, bought the wood for £3,450 and transported it to Wickham, about ten miles east of Southampton, where he used it to build a water mill on the River Meon. Known as the Chesapeake Mill, Prior's name and the date of construction, 1820, can still be seen on the mill's façade.
The mill ceased operation in 1976 and remained unoccupied for almost 30 years. In 1998, the Hampshire County Council purchased it for preservation. After nothing came of various proposals for redevelopment, the Council decided to sell the building in 2003 for commercial use. Taylor Haimes Limited purchased and renovated the structure, opening it as an antiques and home-furnishings center. Responding to concern that public access to this historic site might be restricted, the owners have set aside a room in the mill as an interpretation center, introducing visitors to the history of the building and illustrating what may be seen of the ship's structure within the mill.
Although the mill building's shell is brick, its interior is timber, most of which is from the frigate. The mill was literally designed around the ship, its overall dimensions were governed by the length of the ship's deck beams—the most obvious ship features to be seen—that support each floor. Subtle details, such as the lintels above door and window openings, are also timber from the ship. Throughout the mill, timbers bear marks that indicate the position of the piece in the ship and initials of shipwrights. In a few places there is evidence of battle damage repairs.
1. Benson J. Lossing, Pictorial Fieldbook of the War of 1812 (1869; reprint, Somersworth, NH: 1976), p. 705; Peter Padfield, Broke and the Shannon (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1968), p. 152. Albert Gleaves, James Lawrence, Captain, United States Navy, Commander of the Chesapeake, introduction, George Dewey (New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1904).
2. William M. Fowler Jr., Jack Tars and Commodores: The American Navy, 1783-1815 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1984), pp. 205-206; Spencer C. Tucker and Frank T. Reuter, Injured Honor: Chesapeake-Leopard Affair, June 22, 1807 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1996), pp. 194-195.
3. Christopher Hill, The Experience of Defeat: Milton and Some Contemporaries (New York: Faber & Faber, 1984).
4. Annals of Congress, 12th Session, House of Representatives, p. 868. On the Navy in general for these years see Fowler, Jack Tars and Commodores.
5. Tucker and Reuter, Injured Honor; William S. Dudley, ed., Naval War of 1812: Documentary History, 3 vols., (Washington, DC: Golden Books, 1985-), 2: pp. 97-101, passim.
6. Gleaves, James Lawrence, pp. 144-147, pp. 169-171; H. F. Pullen, The Shannon and the Chesapeake (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1970), pp. 46-47, offers contrary opinions about the state of the crew and the officers.
7. Padfield, Broke and the Shannon, pp. 146-147; Pullen, The Shannon and the Chesapeake, pp. 41-42, pp. 48-49; F. Collins, "Chesapeake and the Shannon, June 1, 1813," The United Service: A Quarterly Review of Military and Naval Affairs, 1 (October, 1879): pp. 495-496, pp. 500-501.
8. Padfield, Broke and the Shannon, quote, pp. 161-162;
9. Ibid., pp. 165-181; Pullen, Shannon and the Chesapeake, pp. 58-63; Collins, "Chesapeake and the Shannon," pp. 504-507.
10. Boston Daily Advertiser, June 3, 1813, June 4, 1813; Boston Gazette, June 3, 1813; (Salem) Essex Register, June 5, 1813; Diary of William Bentley, 4 vols. (1914; reprint, Gloucester, MA, Peter Smith, 1962) 4: p. 175; Providence Gazette and Country Journal, June 5, 1813; (Portsmouth) New Hampshire Gazette, June 8, 1813; and Salem Gazette, June 3, 1813, cited in Pullen, Shannon and the Chesapeake, p. 102.
11. Boston Patriot, June 5, 1813.
12. Boston Daily Advertiser, June 4, 1813; (New York) The War, June 8, 1813; New York Evening Post, June 7, 1813.
13.(Newark, NJ) Centinel of Freedom, June 15, 1813.
14. Lieutenant George Budd to Secretary of the Navy William Jones, Halifax, Nova Scotia, June 15, 1813, in Dudley, Naval War of 1812, 2: pp. 133-134; Diary of William Bentley, 4: p. 175.
15. (Salem) Essex Register, June 5, 1813; Charles Warren, Jacobin and Junto or Early American Politics as Viewed in the Diary of Dr. Nathaniel Ames, 1758-1822 (New York, AMS Press, 1968), p. 260.
16. (New York City) Military Monitor and American Register, June 28, 1813.
17. (Portsmouth) New Hampshire Gazette, June 8, 1813; (New London) Connecticut Gazette, June 5, 1813.
18. (Portland) Eastern Argus, July 1, 1813.
19. Broke to wife, Halifax, June 19, 1801, cited Padfield, Broke and the Shannon, p. 192.
20. (Portsmouth) New Hampshire Gazette, June 8, 1813; Boston Daily Advertiser, June 7, 1813; Boston Gazette, June 21, 1813, June 24, 1813.
21. Robert E Cray Jr. "Death and Burials of Captain James Lawrence: Wartime Mourning in the Early Republic," New York History, 83 (Spring, 2002): 133-164.
22. (New York) The War, June 23, 1814; James E. Valle, Rocks and Shoals: Order and Discipline in the Old Navy, 1800-1861 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1980), pp. 148-154; Padfield, Broke and the Shannon, pp. 240-241.
23. Lossing, War of 1812, p. 707; William McCarty, History of the American War of 1812, 2nd ed., (no city: 1816), pp. 57-58; Benjamin Waterhouse, Journal of a Young Man of Massachusetts (Boston: 1816), pp. 23-24.
24. Padfield, Broke and the Shannon, pp. 241-244; Gleaves, James Lawrence, pp. 169-174. The debate over why the Shannon triumphed would require a separate paper to list the various sources.
25. James Fenimore Cooper, The History of the Navy of the United States of America (1841; reprint, Delmar, NY: 1988), pp. 308-309.