Chapter VI (3)

But, although unemployed afloat, Bainbridge continued diligently engaged in the service, generally of the republic and of the navy. He was at Charlestown—a favorite station with him—for some time, and then was placed at the head of the board of navy commissioners, at Washington. After serving his three years in the latter station, he had the Philadelphia yard. Bainbridge had removed his family twenty-six times, in the course of his different changes, and considering himself as a Delaware seaman, he now determined to set up his _penates_ permanently in the ancient capital of the country. An unpleasant collision with the head of the department, however, forced him from his command in 1831; but, the next year, he was restored to the station at Charlestown. His health compelled him to give up this yard in a few months, and, his constitution being broken, he returned to his family in Philadelphia, in the month of March, 1832, only to die. His disease was pneumonia, connected with great irritation of the bowels and a wasting diarrhœa. As early as in January, 1833, he was told that his case was hopeless, when he manifested a calm and manly resignation to his fate. He lived, however, until the 28th of July, when he breathed his last, aged fifty-nine years, two months and twenty-one days. An hour or two previously to his death, his mind began to wander, and not long before he yielded up his breath, he raised all that was left of his once noble frame, demanded his arms, and ordered all hands called to board the enemy!

Bainbridge married, in the early part of his career, a lady of the West Indies, of the name of Hyleger. She was the grand-daughter of a former governor of St. Eustatia, of the same name. By this lady he had five children who grew up; a son and four daughters. The son was educated to the bar, and was a young man of much promise; but he died a short time previously to his father. Of the daughters, one married a gentleman of the name of Hayes, formerly of the navy; another married Mr. A. G. Jaudon, of Philadelphia, and a third is now the wife of Henry K. Hoff, a native of Pennsylvania, and a sea-lieutenant in the service, of eleven years standing. He left his family in easy circumstances, principally the result of his own prudence, forethought, gallantry and enterprise.

At the time of his death, Commodore Bainbridge stood third in rank, in the American navy; having a long list of captains below him. Had justice been done to this gallant officer, to the service to which he belonged, or even to the country, whose interests are alone to be efficiently protected by a powerful marine, he would have worn a flag some years before the termination of his career. Quite recently a brig of war has received his name, in that service which he so much loved, and in which he passed the best of his days.

Com. Bainbridge was a man of fine and commanding personal appearance. His stature was about six feet, and his frame was muscular and of unusually good proportions. His face was handsome, particularly in youth, and his eye uncommonly animated and piercing. In temperament he was ardent and sanguine; but cool in danger, and of a courage of proof. His feelings were vehement, and he was quickly roused; but, generous and brave, he was easily appeased. Like most men who are excitable, but who are firm at bottom, he was the calmest in moments of the greatest responsibility.[7] He was hospitable, chivalrous, magnanimous, and a fast friend. His discipline was severe, but he tempered it with much consideration for the wants and health of his crews. Few served with him who did not love him, for the conviction that his heart was right, was general among all who knew him. There was a cordiality and warmth in his manner, that gained him friends, and those who knew him best, say he had the art of keeping them.

A shade was thrown over the last years of the life of this noble-spirited man by disease. His sufferings drove him to the use of antispasmodics, to an extent which deranged the nerves. This altered his mood so much as to induce those who did not know him well, to imagine that his character had undergone the change. This was not the case, however; to his dying hour Bainbridge continued the warm-hearted friend, the chivalrous gentleman, and the devoted lover of his country’s honor and interests.

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[1] There appears to have been some uncertainty about officers remaining in service, after the peace of 1801, that contributed to rendering the reduction irregular. The resignations of Dale and Truxtun, and the death of Barry, brought the list down to nine; the number prescribed by law. As the Tripolitan _war_ occurred so soon, a question might arise how far the peace establishment law was binding at all. Certainly, in its _spirit_, it was meant only for a time of peace. On the other hand, Mr. Jefferson, by his public acts, did not seem to think the nation legally at war with Tripoli, even after battles were fought and vessels captured.

[2] There already exists some disagreement as to the question on which of the two principal portions of this reef, the eastern or the western, the Philadelphia ran. Captain Bainbridge, in his official letter, says that the _harbor_ of Tripoli was distant three or four miles, when his ship struck. But the _harbor_ of Tripoli extends more than a mile to the eastward of the _town_. Fort English lies properly near the mouth of the harbor, and it is considerably more than a mile east of the castle; which, itself, stands at the southeastern angle of the town. Com. Porter, in his testimony before the court of inquiry, thought the ship struck about three miles and a half from the _town_ of Tripoli, and one and a half from the nearest point of land, which bore _south_. By the chart, the _western_ margin of the _western_ reef is about 4000 yards from the nearest point in the town, and the _western_ margin of the _eastern_ reef, about 6000. Three miles and a half would be just 6110 yards. This reef, too, lies as near as may be, a mile and a half north of the nearest land; thus agreeing perfectly with Com. Porter’s testimony. In addition, the western portion of the reef could not have been reached without passing into five fathoms water, and Capt. Bainbridge deemed it prudent to haul off when he found himself in eight. All the soundings show, as well as the distances, that the frigate struck as stated in the text, on the eastern half of the Kaliusa Reef; which might well be named the Philadelphia Reef. It may be added, that the nearest land would bear nearer southeast, than south, from the western half of these shoals.

[3] It is pleasing to know that this son has since had his life most probably saved, by the timely intervention of the American authorities. A man-of-war was sent to Tripoli, and brought him off, at a most critical moment, when he was about to fall a sacrifice to his enemies. He is dead; having been an enlightened statesman, like his father, and a firm friend of this country; though much vilified and persecuted toward the close of his brief career.

[4] Alas! how few of the gallant spirits of the late war remain! Bainbridge is gone. Parker died in command of the Siren, the next year. John Shubrick was lost in the Epervier, a twelvemonth later; and Beekman Hoffman died a captain in 1834; while Alwyn survived the wounds received in this action but a few days.

[5] Some time after the peace of 1815, a distinguished officer of the English navy visited the Constitution, then just fitted anew at Boston, for a Mediterranean cruise. He went through the ship accompanied by Capt. ——, of our service. “Well, what do you think of her?” asked the latter, after the two had gone through the vessel and reached the quarter-deck again. “She is _one_ of the finest, if not the very finest frigate I ever put my foot on board of,” returned the Englishman, “but, as I must find _some_ fault, I’ll just say that your wheel is one of the clumsiest things I ever saw, and is unworthy of the vessel.” Capt. —— laughed, and then explained the appearance of the wheel to the other, as follows: “When the Constitution took the Java, the former’s wheel was shot out of her. The Java’s wheel was fitted in the Constitution to steer with, and, although we think it as ugly as you do, we keep it as a trophy!”

[6] On the part of the enemy, in the war of words which succeeded the war of 1612, it was pretended that the Constitution kept off in this engagement. Bainbridge, in his official letter, says he endeavored to close, at the risk of being raked; though the early loss of the Constitution’s wheel prevented her from manœuvring as quickly as she might otherwise have done. When a frigate’s wheel is gone, the tiller is managed by tackles, below two decks, and this makes awkward work; first, as to the transmission of orders, and next, and principally, as to the degree of change, the men who do the work not being able to see the sails. There are two modes of transmitting the orders; one by a tube fitted for that express purpose, and the other by a line of midshipmen.

But the absurd part of the argument was an attempt to show that the Constitution captured the Java by her great superiority in small-arms-men; Kentucky riflemen, of course, of whom, by the way, there probably was never one in an American ship. This attempt was made, in connection with a battle in which the defeated party, too, had every spar, even to her bowsprit, shot out of her! All the witnesses on the subsequent court of inquiry appear to have been asked about this musketry, and the answer of the boatswain is amusing.

_Question._ “Did you suffer much from musketry on the forecastle?”

_Answer._ “Yes: and _likewise from round and grape_.”

Another absurdity was an attempt to show (see James, Ap. p. 12) that the Java would have carried the Constitution had her men boarded. The Constitution’s upper deck was said to be deserted, as if her people had left it in apprehension of their enemies. Not a man left his station in the ship, that day, except under orders, and so far from caring about the attempt to board, the crew ridiculed it. The Java was very bravely fought, beyond a question, but the Constitution took her, and came out of action with royal yards across!

[7] A singular proof how far the resolution of Bainbridge could overcome his natural infirmities, was connected with a very melancholy affair. When Decatur fought the duel in which he fell, he selected his old commander and friend, Bainbridge, to accompany him to the field. Bainbridge had a slight natural impediment in his speech which sometimes embarrassed his utterance; especially when any thing excited him. On such occasions, he usually began a sentence—“un-_ter_”—“un-_ter_,” or “un-_to_,” and then he managed to get out the beginning of what he had to say. On the sad occasion alluded to, the word of command was to be “Fire—_one_, _two_, three;” the parties firing between “Fire” and “three.” Bainbridge won the toss, and was to give the word. It then occurred to one of the gentlemen of the other side that some accident might arise from this peculiarity of Bainbridge’s—“one _two_” sounding so much like “un-_ter_,” and he desired that the whole order might be rehearsed before it was finally enacted. This was done; but Bainbridge was perfectly cool, and no mistake was made.

* * * * *

SONG—“I SAW HER ONCE.”

BY RICHARD H. DANA.

I saw her once; and still I see
That placid eye and thoughtful brow;
That voice! it spoke but once to me—
That quiet voice is with me now.

Where’er I go my soul is blest;
She meets me there, a cheering light;
And when I sink away to rest
She murmurs near—Good night! good night!

Our earthly forms are far apart;
But can her spirit be so nigh
Nor I a home within her heart?
And Love but dream her fond reply?

Oh, no! the form that I behold—
No shaping this of memory!
Her self, her self is here ensoul’d!
—I saw her once; and still I see.

* * * * *

SONNET—THE UNATTAINED.

BY MRS. SEBA SMITH.

Is this, then, Life? Oh! are we born for this?
To follow phantoms that elude the grasp!
Or whatsoe’er secured, within our clasp
To withering lie! as if an earthly kiss
Were doomed Death’s shuddering touch alone to greet.
Oh Life! hast thou reserved no cup of bliss?
Must still the Unattained allure our feet?

The Unattained with yearnings fill the breast,
That rob, for aye, the spirit of its rest?
Yes, this is Life, and everywhere we meet,
Not victor crowns, but wailings of defeat—
Yet falter not, thou dost apply a test
That shall incite thee onward, upward still—
The present cannot sate, thy soul it cannot fill.

* * * * *

A YOUNG WIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE.”