As the historical Hornet slipped southward 200 years ago
today, and as we today await the approach of “Penguin Day” (March 23rd)
and with it a major announcement about the USS Hornet Project, a little back story is in order. I’ll be posting again in the next couple of
days with some more lead-up discussion about the present-day developments, but
for now, I hope you will sit back and enjoy a good sea story, straight from the
pens of Hornet’s own crew.
While our digitalization project
continues, I’ve borrowed the following journal transcripts from one of my
favorite books, “A Gentlemanly and Honorable Profession” by Christopher McKee –
for anyone who hasn’t picked up this gem I highly recommend it. It is perhaps the single most detailed and
insightful book on the early Navy’s officer corps, and an absolute essential
for anyone with an interest in the period.
BT
Hornet’s first days at sea in 1815 were tumultuous. Sailing in the midst of a fierce winter gale
from the northwest, she departed New York in company with the sloop Peacock and store-ship Tom Bowline – running straight past the
British blockaders in the midst of a strong winter gale from the northwest.
The ships rolled heavily as they
fought through the weather. One of Hornet’s
midshipmen described the arduous business of dining onboard as the ship
rolled heavily –
“We were compelled to sit upon the deck with our
plates between our knees. It would have
amused any person could he have witnessed our grotesque appearance. One might have been seen bracing his foot
against a cleat on the deck and another against a chest, but a second and
third, not equally fortunate in their positions, aided each other by extending
their limbs and placing foot to foot in opposite directions, while the
bulkheads supported them behind. Thus
situated we attempted the arduous business of dining and, notwithstanding our
caution, it has happened more than once that a sudden and violent roll of the
ship has thrown us and our dinner into one promiscuous heap, while more
solicitude has been manifested for the preservation of our food and grog than
for our limbs.”
Just three days out, Hornet and Peacock sighted two strange sail in opposite directions. Hornet chased
one, while Peacock the other. Night was falling and despite the heavy sea
then running, Hornet managed to run
in with her quarry and ascertain that she was a neutral Portuguese merchant
brig bound for New York. Another of Hornet’s midshipmen described the
harrowing transit between ships in one of Hornet’s
boats:
“I took [the brig’s master] back after the
examination. [It] then getting dark, and a black squall rising in the
northwest, on leaving the brig I took a small lantern that the ship might
perceive our situation. The squall being
now up with us, blowing violently and quite dark so that nothing could be seen,
the Hornet was to windward, which obliged us to pull head to the sea. We made but little headway, and the boat was
soon half-full of water and the light extinguished. While pulling in this critical situation,
they were consulting on board whether to bear up and look for us or remain hove
to. They were fearful we had swamped and
could never reach the ship. Had they
adopted the first plan, we should certainly have been all lost, as the ship
would have passed by or over us without seeing the boat.”
The weather continued to
deteriorate, and before long lookouts couldn’t make out Peacock, last seen to the west, an estimated 20 miles away. Biddle ordered lights hoisted aloft and rockets
fired, still no sign. After heading that
direction and not finding any sign of her or Tom Bowline, he shaped his course to the southeast, heading for the
rendezvous at Tristan d’Acunha, alone.
The voyage south was uninteresting
from a military point of view, but Hornet’s
midshipmen recount the journey through the enthusiastic lens of youth,
giving us the best picture of daily life onboard:
"In the evening the moon shone with great
splendor. Our crew, in great spirits as
they generally are, enjoyed themselves with dancing. You probably think it strange that our men
should be permitted to dance on the Sabbath, but it’s a general saying among
sailors that there is no Sunday in five fathoms water…
"This morning it rained with great violence for upwards
of four hours. We caught near five
hundred gallons of fresh water… We dined on a piece of one of the sharks that
were caught yesterday, and on which we made a very sumptuous repast…
"There was a brilliant rainbow this morning and, as we
were contending with a heavy head sea, the spray continually broke over the bow
and presented a rainbow wherever the sun shone…
"In the evening a flying fish flew onboard. It was an uncommon large one. I heard some of our oldest sailors say it was
the largest they ever saw. It was
between eighteen and nineteen inches in length.
Those fish are exceeding fine when fried – something similar to perch.
"In the afternoon John Clark fell from the flying
jibboom, whilst preparing to get it inboard.
The ship was going ten knots through the water, and every exertion was
immediately made to save him. Spars were
thrown overboard. Four or five men
jumped into the boat, and she was cut away; but by this time poor Clark was
near half a mile astern. The boat pulled
in the direction which they had last seen him and soon discovered him as they
rose on the top of the waves, which had by this time rose to a stupendous
height, and whose curling tops threatened them with immediate destruction. However, we shortly had the satisfaction to
see him hauled into the boat; but, had they been five minutes longer, he must
have perished, for he was so exhausted that he was unable to walk for two days
after…
"In the afternoon saw a large shoal of sea hogs
[dolphins] ahead of the ship, and though we were going eleven knots through the
water, they crossed and recrossed our bows with astonishing velocity…
"After supper (as usual) we drank to our sweethearts and wives. At midnight the gale…
had now increased to its greatest violence.
The lightning streaked the sky and the thunder’s roar was dreadful- yet
the scene was very sublime. The sea was
covered all over with luminous ridges, and the spray, as it dashed over the
bulwarks, fell in showers of fire on the deck, while the lightning shed a
dismal light on all around… At half-past four a.m. the wind shifted from S.E.
to N.N.E. The storm was lulled almost to
a calm; the sky became suddenly clear and appeared of an uncommonly deep azure,
while the stars shore with wonderful brilliancy. What a contrast! But an hour before all was darkness, tempest
and fury…
"In the afternoon it died away to a perfect calm. Hoisted our boat out, and all of us that
could swim jumped overboard…
"For the last four or five days a large whale has been
sporting about the ship, particularly in the evening, near the setting of the
sun, his enormous snout rising sometimes above the waves with a fountain
spouting through the aperture in the skull.
Sometimes his huge curved back appeared like a rock in the ocean, and at
other times he would spread his tail like a fan and lie on the surface of the
water for hours. He frequently comes so
near the ship that he wets our decks fore and aft, spouting higher than the
maintop."
Stay tuned as we follow Hornet’s journey southward, and what
happened as she approached the squadron rendezvous…
NNNN
