By now I know you’re all brimming
with anticipation of tomorrow’s announcement – tomorrow being PENGUIN DAY, the 200th anniversary of Hornet’s capture of HMS Penguin in the last regular naval action
of the War of 1812. We plan to use the
anniversary to make several major announcements about the USS HORNET Project,
one of which is particularly fitting for the occasion.
But to jump the gun a little bit,
and give you all some food for thought in advance of tomorrow’s anniversary –
here is the event, again, in the words of Hornet’s
own crew. Like my last entry I must
credit Mr. McKee with his excellent book “A Gentlemanly and Honorable
Profession” for the journal excerpts.
By March 21, Hornet had arrived in the vicinity of the squadron rendezvous - the remote South Atlantic island of Tristan da Cunha.
Officers and crew waited anxiously for their first vision of land since leaving New York, but a strong misty gale had sprung up and Captain Biddle ordered the ship hove to in order to avoid an unwanted landfall in low visibility. Finally the weather abated and at 5 pm on the evening of March 22nd Hornet’s lookouts spotted Tristan's distinctive volcanic peak.
By half past 8 the next morning, Hornet arrived a mile off the island’s
north side and launched her first cutter to scout the watering place. The boat returned at 10 am, greeted with a
sharp cry from the forward lookout.
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| Yep - way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. At the time fewer than half a dozen people lived there, and thanks to the infrequency of Royal Navy ships in the area, American privateers and Navy ships alike began making the islands a regular stopping point. |
Officers and crew waited anxiously for their first vision of land since leaving New York, but a strong misty gale had sprung up and Captain Biddle ordered the ship hove to in order to avoid an unwanted landfall in low visibility. Finally the weather abated and at 5 pm on the evening of March 22nd Hornet’s lookouts spotted Tristan's distinctive volcanic peak.
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| Exactly what you would expect a volcano in the middle of the ocean to look like. |
There, in the distance, was the
unmistakable profile of a warship – by all appearances a brig – approaching the
island from the southeast and preparing to pass its southern side. The wind was a stiff breeze from the
south-southwest, and to prevent losing sight of her Biddle filled away and
stood eastward and southward on the wind until the stranger was again in sight,
then hove to in order to let him approach.
As she altered course toward Hornet,
few onboard had any doubt of her character.
She was a Royal Navy brig, about the same size as Hornet, and everyone was ready for a fight. Midshipman William Skiddy recorded the experience that followed:
"We hove to and was getting dinner (it was duff day)
while she was running down. The duff was
hardly swallowed when the drum beat to quarters.
"This required but a few minutes, and all was
ready for action and every eye watching the stranger. He soon luffed to on our weather quarter
about pistol shot off, hoisted the British flag and gave us a gun. This we did not notice, waiting for him to
shoot ahead more.
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| Duff - once a week, and much anticipated. Ask any Navy Sailor when burger or pizza day is - they know what's important! |
"He now gave us the
first broadside, and as soon as their guns flashed ours were in operation, and
in five minutes I perceived the blood running from his scuppers a stream; and,
as he almost stopped firing, our little captain ordered us to cease.
"The enemy, thinking we were disabled, renewed his fire, and of course we soon convinced him of his mistake. He then, as a last alternative, ran his bowsprit between our main and mizzen masts, with the intention to carry us by boarding.
"I was stationed with the first lieutenant in the third
division on the quarterdeck (three after guns on each side) and was now
commanding this division, the first lieutenant having been severely wounded at
the commencement and carried below. The
jib halyards being shot away, the foretack was hauled down to veer the
ship. The enemy was now past us, and all
hands called to repel boarders. We were
then hand to hand, and the enemy were soon driven back. We were now on the enemy’s bows, and it
required all the exertions of our captain and officers to prevent our men from
boarding them. Had they gone, the enemy
would have suffered very much. Their men
were now (hearing the cry from us to board) running below and left their first
lieutenant alone on the forecastle. Many
muskets were levelled at him, but were prevented by our officers from firing on
so brave a man. He then asked our
leader, the second lieutenant, Newton, the name of the ship and was answered
“U.S. Sloop Hornet” when he waved his sword and walked aft.
"Our ship, in shooting ahead, carried away his
bowsprit, tore away all our mizzen rigging, and the enemy lay across our
stern. Our captain was standing on the
arms chest aft, speaking to them, when their foremast fell along the lee waist. The marines in the foretop clung, with their
muskets, to the rigging as the mast fell, and, as soon as down, jumped forward,
fired, and wounded our captain, the ball passing through his neck. They undertook to rake us with their bow
guns, then opposite our stern. I was
standing in one of the stern ports (being open), looking directly at them and
only about twelve feet off. We were then
all hands aft to prevent their boarding, and I certainly expected to see many
of us fall at this fire. Had those guns
been well directed, many of us must have been killed; but fortunately, at this
very moment, the sea lifted our ship’s stern, and the balls went under the
counter in the water.
"Our ship now came round on the other tack, and I played my division of guns into them, raking them fore and aft. They again cried quarters, and our captain ordered us to cease.
"Our ship now came round on the other tack, and I played my division of guns into them, raking them fore and aft. They again cried quarters, and our captain ordered us to cease.
"She proved to be H.B.M. Sloop of War Penguin, Captain
Dickinson, who was killed during the action by a ball through the heart… They
reported fifteen men killed and twenty-eight wounded… We had one killed and
eleven wounded and all in the after division (my division). The poor fellow that was killed was a
six-foot marine that was firing over my head, and the first I perceived was his
brains on my shoes, and in turning I observed the top of his skull taken off by
a ball. As he was much in the way, I
shoved him through one of the ports overboard.
The first lieutenant was also wounded standing by me. I carried him out of the way of the guns and
had him sent below. The most painful was
the heartsickening sight (after the fight) of all those poor fellow who only a
few minutes ago were well and joyful and now all mangled by different kinds of
balls and splinters. Groans were heard
from all quarters. We were now employed
getting the prisoners on board, unbending and bending sails, repairing rigging,
replacing as soon as possible all damages.
This called us from the dying groans of the wounded. The surgeons were all employed amputating
limbs and dressing wounds. The prize
taken in tow, and night veiled the dismal scene. Several died during the night and were
committed to the deep without any ceremony.
Captain Dickenson [of the Penguin] was buried the day after with the
honors of war, his own officers and marines officiating…
"When our little captain was wounded a man from one of
my guns pulled off his old checked shirt, tore it in strips, took hold of
Captain Biddle, and wound this round his neck.
He then holding his bandage himself, was asked by one of our officers if
he thought himself much hurt, when he replied, “No, no, give it to the damned
rascals!” This shot was fired,
recollect, after they had once given up.
After the action was all over, the doctor came to the captain (who was
still at his post, holding onto his neck) and asked him if he would go down and
have his wound dressed? The captain
answered that, if he had got through with the rest, he believed he would go,
and then we heard that the ball had passed through his neck and out through his
coat collar behind.
"One of our men on board the Penguin picked up a hat on
the quarterdeck in which he found a man’s head that had been shot off. He very deliberately pulled the head out,
looked at it saying, “Matey, you don’t now require a hat,” put it on his own
head and dispatched the other overboard.
I have seen him with this hat on often in New York. The sailors were also looking out for the
legs amputated, that they might get some shoes and stockings, as the doctor did
not take the trouble to pull them off.
One very remarkable occurrence, and that was one of the English
midshipmen, a young man who sat on the wardroom table, smiling and talking and
joking with one of his wounded shipmates near him who had lost a leg, while the
doctor amputated one of his legs, without the least emotion. When it was off, “Never mind,” said he, “Bond
(his messmate wounded), we will soon get on sticks and have fun with the girls
yet.” This poor fellow was on crutches
when removed on board the Tom Bowline with the other prisoners, took cold, and
had his leg amputated a second time by their own surgeon. Poor fellow, he died. Bond I often met at St. Salvador, Brazil."
Hornet kept Penguin towing
astern all night and into the next day.
Crews worked to salvage what they could from her shattered wreck. Captain Biddle ordered a carved penguin cut
from the ship’s side as a gift for his father.
Carpenters plugged more than 100 shot holes beneath the waterline in an
attempt to slow her flooding as other crewmembers stripped her hold of stores
and supplies. Damaged as she was, with
only one mast and so far from a friendly port, there was no hope of bringing
her in as a prize. By the second night
the wreck had been stripped, and at 2 am on March 25th, Biddle
ordered her scuttled and the tow cable cut.
As the sun began to rise only a
few hours later, two sail were spotted approaching from the northeast, and by
all appearances these were men of war as well.
Biddle ordered Hornet cleared
for action just in time to make out the distinctive signal flags of Peacock’s coded number. Warrington had arrived, returning to the island after having been driven off by a gale
some days earlier.
Taking stock of the situation on
resuming command of his fragment of the squadron, Warrington ordered the
prisoners from Penguin’s crew into Tom Bowline, which would sail for Brazil
to parole them before proceeding home with the good news of Hornet’s victory. Hornet and
Peacock would remain at the
rendezvous and await the arrival of Decatur in President before proceeding west around the Cape of Good Hope and
into the Indian Ocean.
Despite his wound, Biddle took
advantage of the short calm to dash off his official after action report,
addressed to Stephen Decatur – still ostensibly his commanding senior. It is modest, yet brimming with enthusiasm
that, at times, hints at sticking it to the commander he so detested. It reads:
U. S. Sloop Hornet,
off Tristan d'Acunha, March 25 1815.
Sir—I have the honor to inform you, that on the
morning of the 23d inst. at half past ten, when about to anchor off the north
end of the island of Tristan d'Acunha, a sail was seen to the southward and
eastward, steering to the westward, the wind fresh from the S. S. W. In a few
minutes she had passed on to the westward, so that we could not see her for the
land. I immediately made sail for the
westward* - and shortly after, getting in sight of her again, perceived her to
bear up before the wind. I hove too, for him to come down to us. When she had
approached near, I filled the main-topsail, and continued to yaw the ship,
while she continued to come down, wearing occasionally to prevent her passing
under our stern. At 1, 40 P. M. being
within nearly musket-shot distance- she hauled her wind on the starboard tack,
hoisted English colors, and fired a gun. We immediately lulled too, hoisted our
ensign, and gave the enemy a broadside. The action being thus commenced, a
quick and well directed fire was kept up from this ship, the enemy gradually
drifting nearer to us, when at 1- 55m, he bore up, apparently to run us on board.
As soon as I perceived he would certainly fall on board, I call cd the
boarders, to as to be ready to repel any attempt-to board us At the instant,
every officer and man repaired to the quarter-deck, where the two vessels were
coming in contact, and eagerly pressed me to permit them to board the enemy ;
but this I would not permit, as it was evident, from the commencement of the
action, that our fire was greatly superior, both in quickness and in effect.
The enemy's bowsprit came in between our main and mizzen rigging, on our
starboard side, affording him an opportunity to board us, if such was his
design; but no attempt was made. There was a considerable swell on, and as the
sea lifted us ahead, the enemy's bowsprit carried away our mizzen shrouds, stern
davits- and spanker boom- and he hung upon our larboard quarter. At this moment, an officer, who was
afterwards recognized to be Mr. McDonald, the 1st Lieutenant- and the then
commanding officer, called out that they had surrendered, I directed the marines
and musketry men to cease firing; and - while on the taffrail asking if they
had surrendered- I received a wound in the neck. The enemy just then got clear
of us, and his foremast and bowsprit being both gone, and perceiving us wearing
to give him a fresh broadside, he again called out that he had surrendered. It
was with difficulty I could restrain my crew from firing into him again, as he
had certainly fired into us after having surrendered. From the firing of the
first gun, to the last time the enemy cried out he had surrendered, was exactly
22m. by the watch. She proved to be his
B. M. brig Penguin, mounting sixteen 32 lb. carronades- two long 12's, a 12 lb
carronade on the top-gallant forecastle, with swivels on the cap-stern, in the
tops. She had a spare port forward, so as to fight both her long guns of a
side. She sailed from England in
September last. She was shorter upon
deck than this ship, by two feet- but she had a greater length of keel, greater
breadth of beam, thicker sides, and higher bulwarks, than this ship, and was,
in all respects a remarkably fine vessel of her class. The enemy acknowledge a
complement of 132 ; 12 of them supernumerary marines- from the Medway, 74.—
They acknowledge, also, a loss of 14 killed and 28 wounded ; but Mr. Mayo, who
was in charge of the prize, assures me that the number of killed was certainly
greater. It is a most pleasing part of
my duty to acquaint you, that the conduct of Lieuts. Conner and Newton- Mr.
Mayo- acting Lieut. Brownlow of the marines, sailing-master Romney, and the
other officers, seamen, and marines, I have the honor to command, was, in the
highest degree, creditable to themselves, and calls for my warmest
recommendation. I cannot indeed do justice to their merits.
I have the honor, &c
J. BIDDLE.
* Biddle’s report says he stood westward, while the ship’s
log records her standing eastward to
glimpse the stranger – a much more probable course given the winds. The error too, is probable and even
understandable, when the reader remembers that the author was recovering after
being shot through the neck two days before.
Hornet’s voyage
was not yet complete, and we’ll follow her on the remainder of her cruise in
later posts.
For now, stay tuned, and at 2:02 pm eastern tomorrow – the
200th anniversary of Penguin’s
surrender, I’ll have the privilege to post our announcements about the new Hornet.
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