On October 21, 1842, an officer of the U. S. Navy hauled down the American flag at Monterey, capital of Mexican California. Thus ended the short-lived (less than one day) occupation of that city by the U. S. Pacific Squadron commanded by Commodore Thomas ap Catesby Jones. Most naval histories mention the incident, and some even state that Jones was relieved of his command because of his action, taken in the mistaken belief that the United States and Mexico were at war. However, the circumstances of Jones’s relief are virtually unknown.
Although the citizens of Monterey were inclined to regard Jones’s faux pas simply as an amusing and unimportant episode, the Mexican government took a more serious view. The United States had perforce to relieve the erring commodore. The Secretary of the Navy Abel P. Upshur ordered Commodore Alexander J. Dallas to proceed to the Pacific via the Isthmus of Panama to assume the command. No official orders for Jones preceded Dallas, but it soon was fairly common knowledge that Jones’s relief was on his way.
Jones’s flagship, the United States, remained at Monterey for a week of entertainment following the city’s restoration to its rightful government, and then stood slowly down the coasts of California and Mexico, stopping frequently at the various ports where Jones demonstrated his good feelings toward all Mexican officials and citizens. The flagship and other vessels of the squadron met at Valparaiso, Chile, and almost at once the commodore, still officially unaware of Dallas’s coming, decided that the island groups of the Eastern Pacific had been too long neglected. Ordinarily the island cruise fell to one of the sloops-of-war, but Jones decided to make it personally in the United States.
It is impossible to state definitely that Jones was running from Dallas. However, that was the opinion of many of the Americans residing at Valparaiso, and Jones’s letters make it clear that he felt strongly that his premature relief would be exceedingly unjust. Moreover, he chose to reverse the usual sequence: the United States sailed directly to the Sandwich Islands and then cruised southward to the other island groups. Certainly this course seemed calculated to prevent Dallas from communicating with Jones. The final bit of evidence to support the theory that Jones knew of Dallas’s coming is found in the memoirs of Rear Admiral Samuel R. Franklin. The latter was a midshipman in the United States, and recalled years later that the frigate had lost her main topgallant mast in a squall during the island cruise. It was remarked to the officer of the deck that the commodore’s broad pennant had come down “by the run,” whereupon he replied that it had been kept aloft “by the run” for some months.
Commodore Dallas arrived at Panama, fully expecting to find there one of the warships of his new command. Even had word of his coming not preceded him, Panama was so important a port on the Pacific Station that an American man-o’-war was normally in the vicinity. But no warship was to be seen, so Dallas made his way to Callao, Peru. That port was the major base for the Pacific Squadron, and surely most of its vessels would be there. However, only the twelve-gun schooner Shark, smallest and slowest of the squadron, was riding at anchor when Dallas arrived. The remaining ships were all cruising in the more remote reaches of the station. Dallas’s temper at this point seems to have been barely under control, but he left a letter for Jones, broke his broad pennant in the Shark, and made sail in pursuit of his predecessor on July 12, 1843.
It was a long chase. The United States was commonly regarded as the fastest frigate in the world at that time, while the Shark was reputed to be an uncommonly dull sailer. In the course of his travels, Dallas met the store- ship Erie, a faster and more comfortable ship, and shifted his broad pennant to her. Thus the pursuit continued, with Dallas dispatching letters for Jones with every vessel encountered.
Commodore Jones finally received news of his relief from the French Rear Admiral Dupetit-Thouars at Nukuhiva, and headed for Callao to meet Dallas. However, he touched at Tahiti and there found a letter in which Dallas stated that Jones’s presence in the United States was desired as soon as possible. Commodore Lawrence Kearney of the East India Squadron was likely to be at Valparaiso, homeward bound in the Constellation, so to Valparaiso Jones went, to “hitch” a ride with Kearney. But the latter was at Callao, so Jones found only more letters from Dallas awaiting him. These contained conflicting orders: Jones was to await Dallas at Callao, and Jones was to return to the United States posthaste. Jones, probably not desirous of facing his irate successor, decided on the latter course, and went to Callao to join Kearney. But first he replied to Dallas’s thinly veiled accusations in a letter which managed to insult almost every other commodore of the U. S. Navy who had ever commanded on a distant station. This was the final indignity. Dallas demanded that Jones be tried by general court martial.
However, Jones found a fellow Virginian, John Y. Mason, in charge of the Navy Department, and Mason decided that both officials had acted properly so all charges were dropped. Jones was not reprimanded for his mistaken seizure of Monterey, but his requests that he be allowed to resume command of the Pacific Squadron were denied on account of Mexican feelings.
Commodore Dallas did not have long to enjoy his command. He insisted that his health had been impaired by the hardships incident to his pursuit of Jones (Dr. R. T. Maxwell, of the squadron, attributed Dallas’s condition to overindulgence in strong drink), and made plans to return home. This was denied him, however, and the commodore died in his flagship Savannah at Callao on June 4, 1844. His request to be buried at sea was disregarded; he was interred at Lima, Peru.
Some three years later, the Pacific Squadron seemed again to be in need of a new commander-in-chief and Mason was again Secretary of the Navy. Mexico and the United States were at war so no one could be offended if Thomas ap Catesby Jones were appointed to the command. He had been on waiting orders since his return to the United States, steadfastly refusing to accept any command save that in the Pacific. Accordingly, Jones set out for his old station with his broad pennant in the line-of-battle ship Ohio.
At Callao, the first of his new duties had to be performed. Commodore Dallas’s politically influential family had gained authorization to have his remains exhumed and returned to the United States. As senior naval officer present, Jones naturally had to supervise the disinterment and embarkation of his erstwhile successor’s remains. Not only that, but he was ex officio chief mourner, embarked in the boat immediately astern of the funeral barge which carried Dallas’s coffin out to the storeship Erie.
Commodore Dallas had at long last caught up with the elusive Mr. Jones.