Cruising off the coast of Brazil in late December 1812, lookouts in the USS Constitution sighted the tips of several masts piercing the western horizon. Her captain, William Bainbridge, headed eastward for a time to give himself some extra sea room, then came about to investigate.
Bainbridge had earned the sobriquet “Hard Luck Bill” because of several misfortunes that offset an otherwise promising career. He had been forced to surrender his first command when confronted by overwhelming odds during the Quasi-War with France, was humiliatingly compelled by the Dey of Algiers to sail his frigate, the USS George Washington, under Algerian colors to deliver tribute (including many animals) to the Sultan at Constantinople, and had run the USS Philadelphia aground off Tripoli, permitting her to be captured and his crew imprisoned.
As the Constitution closed the distance, it became apparent that she had encountered a large British frigate, HMS Java, and among the subdued but anxious chatter on the gun decks one could discern the anxious words “jinx,” “curse,” and the like.
The Constitution had a firepower advantage over her Royal Navy opponent of about six to five, but in the engagement that followed, it soon was apparent that the Java enjoyed a significant advantage in speed and maneuverability that caused Bainbridge to later complain, “the enemy [was] keeping at a much greater distance than I wished.” Initially using her maneuvering advantage to good effect, the Java was able to work her way across the American’s stern and delivered a raking broadside that carried away the Constitution’s helm and wounded Bainbridge and a number of his crew.
Bainbridge’s bad luck seemed to be asserting itself yet again, but through persistence and expert seamanship, he was eventually able to close his opponent, and in the slugfest that ensued, the Java began to take the worst of it.
Although twice wounded and his white trousers now a dark crimson, Bainbridge remained on the quarterdeck and continued to fight his ship. His counterpart in the Java was also wounded, but Captain Henry Lambert’s injury was mortal and he was carried below, leaving the Java’s first lieutenant, Henry Chads, to continue the fight. After about an hour, all three of the Java’s masts were shot away, and with the British ship no longer able to move, Bainbridge pulled out of gun range as his crew made repairs.
After a time, sails billowed again from the Constitution’s yards and she slowly came about, moving in on her immobile prey. Carefully maneuvering across the Java’s bow, Bainbridge stopped his ship in a classic “crossing-the-T” position. For a few tense minutes, all was quiet as the British sailors stared into the threatening muzzles of their adversary’s guns arrayed along her broadside, and Bainbridge’s men stood ready to fire the instant the order was given.
The Java’s damage was substantial, and many of her crew lay dead or wounded. Some of her guns were entangled in the rigging that had fallen with the toppled masts, but more important, most of her weapons were unable to bear on the enemy in their relative positions. It was time to face the inevitable and, illuminated in the late afternoon sun, the Java’s colors came down.
It was an impressive victory for the U.S. Navy, and a particularly sweet one for Bainbridge, who had clearly redeemed himself, proving that courage and skill were worthy adversaries to jinxes and curses.