Chapter II: The Second War with England (1)

The treaty of peace with England which closed the Revolution
provided for the payment of English creditors and the
restoration of confiscated estates, but the individual
states refused to carry out this agreement, and England, in
consequence, retained possession of some of the Western posts.
To this were soon added other causes of annoyance, principal
among which was the right claimed by England to impress into
her service seamen of British birth, wherever found, and to
stop and search the ships of the United States for this purpose.

THE TIMES

Ye brave sons of Freedom, come join in the chorus,
At the dangers of war do not let us repine,
But sing and rejoice at the prospect before us,
And drink it success in a bumper of wine.
At the call of the nation,
Let each to his station,
And resist depredation,
Which our country degrades;
Ere the conflict is over,
Our rights we'll recover,
Or punish whoever
Our honor invades.

We're abused and insulted, our country's degraded,
Our rights are infringed both by land and by sea;
Let us rouse up, indignant, when those rights are invaded,
And announce to the world, "We're united and free!"
By our navy's protection
We'll make our election,
And in every direction
Our trade shall be free;
No British oppression,
No Gallic aggression
Shall disturb the possession
We claim to the sea.

Then Columbia's ships shall sail on the ocean,
And the nations of Europe respect us at last:
Our stars and our stripes shall command their devotion,
And Liberty perch on the top of the mast.
Though _Bona_ and _John Bull_
Continue their long pull,
Till ambition's cup-full
Be drain'd to the lees;
By wisdom directed,
By tyrants respected,
By cannon protected,
We'll traverse the seas.

Though vile combinations to sever the Union
Be projected with caution and managed with care,
Though traitors and Britons, in sweetest communion,
Their patriot virtue unite and compare,
American thunder
Shall rend it asunder,
And ages shall wonder
At the deeds we have done:
And every Tory
When he hears of the story,
Shall repine at the glory
Our heroes have won.

Let local attachments be condemn'd and discarded,
Distrust and suspicion be banish'd the mind,
Let union, our safety, be ever regarded,
When improved by example, by virtue refined.
Our ancestors brought it,
Our sages have taught it,
Our Washington bought it,
'Tis our glory and boast!
No factions shall ever
Our government sever,
But "Union forever,"
Shall be our last toast.

Measures so outrageous made war seemingly inevitable; but
Washington, through the Jay Treaty, managed to patch up a
peace. In 1805 England, hard-pressed by Napoleon, again
asserted the "right of search," and her war-vessels stopped
merchantmen and cruisers alike and took off all persons whom
the British commanders chose to regard as British subjects.
Congress retaliated by prohibiting commerce with England.
The embargo went into effect in January, 1808, and aroused
sectional feeling to such an extent that New England threatened
secession from the Union.

REPARATION OR WAR

WRITTEN DURING THE EMBARGO

Rejoice, rejoice, brave patriots, rejoice!
Our martial sons take a bold and manly stand!
Rejoice, rejoice, exulting raise your voice,
Let union pervade our happy land.
The altar of Liberty shall never be polluted,
But freedom expand and flourish, firm and deeply rooted.
Our eagle, towering high,
Triumphantly shall fly,
While men like JEFFERSON preside to serve their country!
Huzza! huzza! boys, etc., etc.
With firmness we'll resent our wrongs sustain'd at sea;
Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.
For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.

To arms, to arms, with ardor rush to arms,
Our injured rights have long for vengeance cried.
To arms, to arms, prepare for war's alarms,
If honest reparation be denied.
Though feeble counteracting plans, or foreign combinations,
May interdict awhile our trade, against the law of nations,
The embargo on supplies
Shall open Europe's eyes;
Proclaiming unto all the world, "Columbia will be free."
Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.
With honor we'll maintain a just neutrality.
Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.
For none but slaves will bend to tyranny.

Defend, defend, ye heroes and ye sages,
The gift divine--your independency!
Transmit with joy, down to future ages,
How Washington achieved your liberty.
When freemen are insulted, they send forth vengeful thunder,
Determined to maintain their rights, strike the foe with wonder.
They cheerfully will toil,
To cultivate the soil,
And rather live on humble fare than feast ignobly.
Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.
United, firm we stand, invincible and free,
Huzza! huzza! etc., etc.
Then none but slaves shall bend to tyranny.

The opponents of the embargo termed the conflict a "terrapin
war,"--the nation, by extinguishing commerce, drawing within
its own shell like a terrapin; and at gatherings of the
Federalists, a song by that title was very popular.

TERRAPIN WAR

Huzza for our liberty, boys,
These are the days of our glory--
The days of true national joys,
When terrapins gallop before ye!
There's Porter and Grundy and Rhea,
In Congress who manfully vapor,
Who draw their six dollars a day,
And fight bloody battles _on paper_!
Ah! this is true Terrapin war.

Poor Madison the tremors has got,
'Bout this same arming the nation;
Too far to retract, he cannot
Go on--and he loses his station.
Then bring up your "regulars," lads,
In "attitude" nothing ye lack, sirs,
Ye'll frighten to death the Danads,
With fire-coals blazing aback, sirs!
Oh, this is true Terrapin war!

As to powder and bullets and swords,
For, as they were never intended,
They're a parcel of high-sounding words,
But never to _action_ extended.
Ye must _frighten_ the rascals away,
In "_rapid descent_" on their quarters;
Then the plunder divide as ye may,
And drive them headlong in the waters.
Oh, this is _great_ Terrapin war!

But the hostility to Great Britain grew steadily more bitter,
and the war party was led by such able men as Henry Clay and
John C. Calhoun. Various incidents tended to fan the flames,
and on June 18, 1812, war was declared.

FAREWELL, PEACE

[June 18, 1812]

Farewell, Peace! another crisis
Calls us to "the last appeal,"
Made when monarchs and their vices
Leave no argument but _steel_.
When injustice and oppression
Dare avow the tyrant's plea.
Who would recommend submission?
Virtue bids us to be free.

History spreads her page before us,
Time unrolls his ample scroll;
Truth unfolds them, to assure us,
States, united, ne'er can fall.
See, in annals Greek and Roman,
What immortal deeds we find;
When those gallant sons of woman
In their country's cause combined.

Sons of Freedom! brave descendants
From a race of heroes tried,
To preserve our independence
Let all Europe be defied.
Let not all the world, united,
Rob us of one sacred right:
Every patriot heart's delighted
In his country's cause to fight.

Come then, War! with hearts elated
To thy standard we will fly;
Every bosom animated
Either to live free or die.
May the wretch that shrinks from duty,
Or deserts the glorious strife,
Never know the smile of beauty,
Nor the blessing of a wife.

The Federalists claimed that war had been declared, not to
avenge the country's wrongs upon the ocean, but to conquer
Canada. Canada was, indeed, the first objective, and troops
were enlisted and hurried forward to the various northern posts.

COME, YE LADS, WHO WISH TO SHINE

Come, ye lads, who wish to shine
Bright in future story,
Haste to arms, and form the line
That leads to martial glory.
Beat the drum, the trumpet sound,
Manly and united,
Danger face, maintain your ground,
And see your country righted.

Columbia, when her eagle's roused,
And her flag is rearing
Will always find her sons disposed
To drub the foe that's daring.
Beat the drum, etc.

Hearts of oak, protect the coast,
Pour your naval thunder,
While on shore a mighty host
Shall strike the world with wonder.
Beat the drum, etc.

Haste to Quebec's towering walls,
Through the British regions;
Hark! Montgomery's spirit calls,
Drive the hostile legions.
Beat the drum, etc.

Honor for the brave to share
Is the noblest booty;
Guard your rights, protect the fair,
For that's a soldier's duty.
Beat the drum, etc.

Charge the musket, point the lance,
Brave the worst of dangers;
Tell to Britain and to France,
That we to fear are strangers.
Beat the drum, etc.

The Canadian campaign was soon to end ignominiously enough. In
July, General Hull, governor of Michigan territory, crossed
from Detroit into Canada, then crossed back again, and on
August 16, without striking a blow, surrendered Detroit and
his entire army to the British under General Brock. Hull was
afterwards tried by court-martial, convicted of cowardice, and
sentenced to be shot, but the sentence was commuted.

HULL'S SURRENDER

OR, VILLANY SOMEWHERE

[August 16, 1812]

Ye Columbians so bold, attend while I sing;
Sure treason and treachery's not quite the thing,
At a time like the present, we ought, one and all,
In defence of our rights, to stand nobly or fall.

_Chorus_

Then let traitors be banish'd Columbia's fair shore,
And treason be known in her borders no more.

With a brave, gallant army HULL went to Detroit,
And swore he'd accomplish a noble exploit;
That the British and Indians he'd conquer outright,
And give cause to his country of joy and delight.

_Chorus_

But if traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,
O let it be known in her borders no more.

Ah! quickly alas! defeat and disgrace
Star'd our brave noble soldiers quite full in the face,
When they thought that the victory was sure to be won,
Their general gave up, _without firing a gun_.

_Chorus_

Then do traitors still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,
IF THEY DO, let them dwell in her borders no more!

Those heroes, who bravely on the Wabash had fought,
Who for glory successfully nobly had sought,
Where the _favor_ denied of asserting their wrongs,
And deprived of that _right_ which to freemen belongs.

_Chorus_

Then if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,
O let it be known in her borders no more!

Is it true that our soldiers were wrongfully us'd?
Is it true that they've been by their GENERAL abus'd?
Is it true that an army so gallant were _sold_?
Is it true that COLUMBIANS were barter'd for gold?

_Chorus_

If it is, then does treason still dwell on our shore,
But let it be known in our country no more!

Ye heroes who fought by the side of brave _Floyd_,
Ye heroes, conducted to glory by _Boyd_,
Think not that your brethren will quietly bear,
From your brows that a traitor your laurels should tear.

_Chorus_

No--if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,
It shall soon be expell'd to reside here no more.

Then rouse ye brave freemen, and heed no alarms,
Your dear native country now calls you to arms,
Away to the battle, and count not the cost
Till the glory you gain, which so basely was lost.

_Chorus_

For if treason still dwell on Columbia's fair shore,
By our fathers we swear it shall dwell here no more.

The fury which the news of this disaster aroused was tempered
by rejoicing for a remarkable victory on the ocean. Anxious
to meet some of the famous British frigates, Captain Isaac
Hull put out from Boston with the Constitution on August
2. He sailed without orders, and had the cruise resulted
disastrously, he would probably have been court-martialed and
shot. On the afternoon of August 19, a sail was sighted off
Halifax and proved to be the British frigate Guerrière. Hull at
once attacked, and soon reduced the enemy to a "perfect wreck."
The Constitution sustained little injury and got safely back to
port.

THE CONSTITUTION AND THE GUERRIÈRE

[August 19, 1812]

I often have been told
That the British seamen bold
Could beat the tars of France neat and handy O;
But they never found their match,
Till the Yankees did them catch,
For the Yankee tars for fighting are the dandy O.

O, the Guerrière so bold
On the foaming ocean rolled,
Commanded by Dacres the grandee O;
For the choice of British crew
That a rammer ever drew
Could beat the Frenchmen two to one quite handy O.

When the frigate hove in view,
"O," said Dacres to his crew,
"Prepare ye for action and be handy O;
On the weather-gauge we'll get her."
And to make his men fight better,
He gave to them gunpowder and good brandy O.

Now this boasting Briton cries,
"Make that Yankee ship your prize,
You can in thirty minutes do it handy O,
Or twenty-five, I'm sure
You'll do it in a score,
I will give you a double share of good brandy O.

"When prisoners we've made them,
With switchell we will treat them,
We will treat them with 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' O;"
The British balls flew hot,
But the Yankees answered not,
Until they got a distance that was handy O.

"O," cried Hull unto his crew,
"We'll try what we can do;
If we beat those boasting Britons we're the dandy O."
The first broadside we poured
Brought the mizzen by the board,
Which doused the royal ensign quite handy O.

O Dacres he did sigh,
And to his officers did cry,
"I did not think these Yankees were so handy O."
The second told so well
That the fore and main-mast fell,
Which made this lofty frigate look quite handy O.

"O," says Dacres, "we're undone,"
So he fires a lee gun.
Our drummer struck up "Yankee Doodle Dandy" O;
When Dacres came on board
To deliver up his sword,
He was loth to part with it, it looked so handy O.

"You may keep it," says brave Hull.
"What makes you look so dull?
Cheer up and take a glass of good brandy O;"
O Britons now be still,
Since we've hooked you in the gill,
Don't boast upon Dacres the grandee O.

HALIFAX STATION

[August 19, 1812]

From Halifax station a bully there came,
To take or be taken, call'd Dacres by name:
But 'twas who but a Yankee he met on his way--
Says the Yankee to him, "Will you stop and take tea?"

Then Dacres steps up, thus addressing his crew:--
"Don't you see that d--d flag that is red, white, and blue;
Let us drum all to quarters, prepare for to fight,
For in taking that ship boys, it will make me a knight."

Then up to each mast-head he straight sent a flag,
Which shows, on the ocean, a proud British brag;
But Hull, being pleasant, he sent up but one,
And told every seaman to stand true to his gun.

Then Hull, like a hero, before them appears,
And with a short speech his sailors he cheers,
Saying, "We'll batter their sides, and we'll do the neat thing:
We'll conquer their bully, and laugh at their king."

Then we off with our hats and gave him a cheer,
Swore we'd stick by brave Hull, while a seaman could steer;
And at it we went with mutual delight,
For to fight and to conquer's a sailor's free right.

Then we crowded all sail, and we ran alongside,
And we wellfed our bull-dogs with true Yankee pride.
'Twas broadside for broadside we on them did pour,
While cannon's loud mouths at each other did roar.

Says Dacres, "Fight on, and we'll have her in tow,
We will drink to Great Britain, and the cans they shall flow;
So strike, you d--d Yankee, I'll make you with ease:"
But the man they call Hull, says, "O no, if you please."

Then Dacres wore ship, expecting to rake;
But quite in a hurry, found out his mistake;
For we luff'd round his bow, boys, and caught his jib-boom,
And, in raking them aft, we soon gave him his doom.

Then Dacres look'd wild, and then sheath'd his sword,
When he found that his masts were all gone by the board,
And dropping astern cries out to the steward,
"Come up and be d--d, fire a gun to the leeward."

Then we off with our hats, and we gave them three cheers,
Which bitterly stung all those Englishmen's ears;
Saying, "We'll fight for our country, do all things that's right,
And let the world know, that green Yankees can fight."

ON THE CAPTURE OF THE GUERRIÈRE

[August 19, 1812]

Long the tyrant of our coast
Reigned the famous Guerrière;
Our little navy she defied,
Public ship and privateer:
On her sails in letters red,
To our captains were displayed
Words of warning, words of dread,
"All who meet me, have a care!
I am England's Guerrière."

On the wide, Atlantic deep
(Not her equal for the fight)
The Constitution, on her way,
Chanced to meet these men of might;
On her sails was nothing said,
But her waist the teeth displayed
That a deal of blood could shed,
Which, if she would venture near,
Would stain the decks of the Guerrière.

Now our gallant ship they met--
And, to struggle with John Bull--
Who had come, they little thought,
Strangers, yet, to Isaac Hull:
Better soon to be acquainted:
Isaac hailed the Lord's anointed--
While the crew the cannon pointed,
And the balls were so directed
With a blaze so unexpected;

Isaac so did maul and rake her
That the decks of Captain Dacre
Were in such a woful pickle
As if death with scythe and sickle,
With his sling, or with his shaft
Had cut his harvest fore and aft.
Thus, in thirty minutes ended,
Mischiefs that could not be mended;
Masts, and yards, and ship descended,
All to David Jones's locker--
Such a ship in such a pucker!

Drink a bout to the Constitution!
She performed some execution,
Did some share of retribution
For the insults of the year
When she took the Guerrière.
May success again await her,
Let who will again command her,
Bainbridge, Rodgers, or Decatur--
Nothing like her can withstand her.
With a crew like that on board her
Who so boldly called "to order"
One bold crew of English sailors,
Long, too long our seamen's jailors,
Dacre and the Guerrière!

PHILIP FRENEAU.

FIRSTFRUITS IN 1812

[August 19, 1812]

_What is that a-billowing there
Like a thunderhead in air?
Why should such a sight be whitening the seas?_
That's a Yankee man-o'-war,
And three things she's seeking for--
For a prize, and for a battle, and a breeze.

When the war blew o'er the sea
Out went Hull and out went we
In the Constitution, looking for the foe;
But five British ships came down--
And we got to Boston-town
By a mighty narrow margin, you must know!

Captain Hull can't fight their fleet,
But he fairly aches to meet
Quite the prettiest British ship of all there were;
So he stands again to sea
In the hope that on his lee
He'll catch Dacres and his pretty Guerrière.

'Tis an August afternoon
Not a day too late or soon,
When we raise a ship whose lettered mainsail reads:
_All who meet me have a care,
I am England's Guerrière;_
So Hull gayly clears for action as he speeds.

Cheery bells had chanted five
On the happiest day alive
When we Yankees dance to quarters at his call;
While the British bang away
With their broadsides' screech and bray;
But the Constitution never fires a ball.

We send up three times to ask
If we sha'n't begin our task?
Captain Hull sends back each time the answer _No_;
Till to half a pistol-shot
The two frigates he had brought,
Then he whispers, _Lay along!_--and we let go.

Twice our broadside lights and lifts,
And the Briton, crippled, drifts
With her mizzen dangling hopeless at her poop:
Laughs a Yankee, _She's a brig!_
Says our Captain, _That's too big;
Try another, so we'll have her for a sloop!_

We hurrah, and fire again,
Lay aboard of her like men,
And, like men, they beat us off, and try in turn;
But we drive bold Dacres back
With our muskets' snap and crack--
All the while our crashing broadsides boom and burn.

'Tis but half an hour, bare,
When that pretty Guerrière
Not a stick calls hers aloft or hers alow,
Save the mizzen's shattered mast,
Where her "meteor flag" 's nailed fast
Till, a fallen star, we quench its ruddy glow.

Dacres, injured, o'er our side
Slowly bears his sword of pride,
Holds it out, as Hull stands there in his renown:
_No, no!_ says th' American,
_Never, from so brave a man--
But I see you're wounded, let me help you down._

All that night we work in vain
Keeping her upon the main,
But we've hulled her far too often, and at last
In a blaze of fire there
Dies the pretty Guerrière;
While away we cheerly sail upon the blast.

Oh, the breeze that blows so free!
Oh, the prize beneath the sea!
Oh, the battle!--was there ever better won?
Still the happy Yankee cheers
Are a-ringing in our ears
From old Boston, glorying in what we've done.

_What is that a-billowing there
Like a thunderhead in air?
Why should such a sight be whitening the seas?_
That's Old Ir'nsides, trim and taut,
And she's found the things she sought--
Found a prize, a bully battle, and a breeze!

WALLACE RICE.

This victory, needless to say, greatly encouraged the
Americans, and General Stephen van Rensselaer, in command of
the northern army, determined to try another stroke at Canada.
On October 13, 1812, he started to cross the Niagara River with
six hundred men; but the crossing was mismanaged, the militia
refused to obey orders, and after a gallant fight lasting all
day, the Americans were forced to surrender to an overwhelming
force of British and Indians.

THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTOWN

[October 13, 1812]

When brave Van Rensselaer cross'd the stream,
Just at the break of day,
Distressing thoughts, a restless dream,
Disturb'd me where I lay.

But all the terrors of the night
Did quickly flee away:
My opening eyes beheld the light,
And hail'd the new-born day.

Soon did the murdering cannon's roar
Put blood in all my veins;
Columbia's sons have trod the shore
Where the proud Britain reigns.

To expose their breast to cannon's ball,
Their country's rights to save,
O what a grief to see them fall!
True heroes, bold and brave!

The musket's flash, the cannon's glow,
Thunder'd and lighten'd round,
Struck dread on all the tawny foe,
And swept them to the ground.

I thought what numbers must be slain,
What weeping widows left!
And aged parents full of pain,
Of every joy bereft.

The naked savage yelling round
Our heroes where they stood,
And every weapon to be found
Was bathed in human blood.

But bold Van Rensselaer, full of wounds,
Was quickly carried back;
Brave Colonel Bloom did next command
The bloody fierce attack.

Where Brock, the proud insulter, rides
In pomp and splendor great;
Our valiant heroes he derides,
And dared the power of fate.

"Here is a mark for Yankee boys,
So shoot me if you can:"
A Yankee ball soon closed his eyes,
Death found him but a man.

They slaughter'd down the tawny foe,
And Britons that were near;
They dealt out death at every blow,
The battle was severe.

Five battles fought all in one day,
Through four victorious stood,
But ah! the fifth swept all away,
And spilt our heroes' blood.

The tomahawk and scalping-knife
On them did try their skill;
Some wounded, struggling for their life,
Did black barbarians kill.

Brave Wadsworth boldly kept the field
Till their last bullets flew;
Then all were prisoners forced to yield,
What could the general do?

Militia men! O fie for shame!
Thus you your country flee.
'Tis you at last will bear the blame
For loss of victory.

When mild Van Rensselaer did command,
You would not him obey;
But stood spectators on the strand,
To see the bloody fray.

The number kill'd was seventy-four,
Prisoners, seven hundred sixty-nine,
Wounded, two hundred or more,
Who languish'd in great pain.

Some have already lost their lives,
And others like to go;
But few, I fear, will tell their wives
The doleful tale of wo.

WILLIAM BANKER, JR.

But disasters on land seemed fated to be followed by victories
on the water. About noon of October 18, 1812, the American
18-gun sloop of war, Wasp, encountered the 20-gun British
brig, Frolic, off Albemarle Sound, and, after a severe action,
boarded and compelled her to surrender. Shortly afterwards,
a sail hove in sight, which proved to be the British 74,
Poictiers, and, running down on the sloops, she seized both the
Wasp and her prize and carried them to Bermuda.

THE WASP'S FROLIC

[October 18, 1812]

'Twas on board the sloop of war Wasp, boys,
We set sail from Delaware Bay,
To cruise on Columbia's fair coast, sirs,
Our rights to maintain on the sea.

Three days were not passed on our station,
When the Frolic came up to our view;
Says Jones, "Show the flag of our nation;"
Three cheers were then gave by our crew.

We boldly bore up to this Briton,
Whose cannon began for to roar;
The Wasp soon her stings from her side ran,
When we on them a broadside did pour.

Each sailor stood firm at his quarters,
'Twas minutes past forth and three,
When fifty bold Britons were slaughtered,
Whilst our guns swept their masts in the sea.

Their breasts then with valor still glowing,
Acknowledged the battle we'd won,
On us then bright laurels bestowing,
When to leeward they fired a gun.

On their decks we the twenty guns counted,
With a crew for to answer the same;
Eighteen was the number we mounted,
Being served by the lads of true game.

With the Frolic in tow, we were standing,
All in for Columbia's fair shore;
But fate on our laurels was frowning,
We were taken by a seventy-four.

A more signal victory was soon to be recorded. On the morning
of October 25, 1812, near the Canary Islands, the British
38-gun frigate, Macedonian, was overhauled by the American 44,
United States, and an hour after the action began, was reduced
to a wreck by the terrible fire of the American. A prize crew
was put aboard, repaired her, and got her safely to New York.

THE UNITED STATES AND THE MACEDONIAN

[October 25, 1812]

How glows each patriot bosom that boasts a Yankee heart,
To emulate such glorious deeds and nobly take a part;
When sailors with their thund'ring guns,
Prove to the English, French, and Danes
That Neptune's chosen fav'rite sons
Are brave Yankee boys.

The twenty-fifth of October, that glorious happy day,
When we beyond all precedent, from Britons bore the sway,--
'Twas in the ship United States,
Four and forty guns the rates,
That she should rule, decreed the Fates,
And brave Yankee boys.

Decatur and his hardy tars were cruising on the deep,
When off the Western Islands they to and fro did sweep,
The Macedonian they espied,
"Huzza! bravo!" Decatur cried,
"We'll humble Britain's boasted pride,
My brave Yankee boys."

The decks were cleared, the hammocks stowed, the boatswain pipes all
hands,
The tompions out, the guns well sponged, the Captain now commands;
The boys who for their country fight,
Their words, "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights!"
Three times they cheered with all their might,
Those brave Yankee boys.

Now chain-shot, grape, and langrage pierce through her oaken sides,
And many a gallant sailor's blood runs purpling in the tides;
While death flew nimbly o'er their decks,
Some lost their legs, and some their necks,
And Glory's wreath our ship be-decks,
For brave Yankee boys.

My boys, the proud St. George's Cross, the stripes above it wave,
And busy are our gen'rous tars, the conquered foe to save,
To Carden then, in tones so bland,
Our Captain cries "Give me your hand,"
Then of the ship who took command
But brave Yankee boys?

Our enemy lost her mizzen, her main and fore-topmast,
For ev'ry shot with death was winged, which slew her men so fast,
That they lost five to one in killed,
And ten to one their blood was spilled,
So Fate decreed and Heaven had willed,
For brave Yankee boys.

Then homeward steered the captive ship, now safe in port she lies,
The old and young with rapture viewed our sailors' noble prize;
Through seas of wine their health we'll drink,
And wish them sweet-hearts, friends, and chink,
Who 'fore they'd strike, will nobly sink
Our brave Yankee boys.

THE UNITED STATES AND MACEDONIAN

[October 25, 1812]

The banner of Freedom high floated unfurled,
While the silver-tipt surges in low homage curled,
Flashing bright round the bow of Decatur's brave bark,
In contest, an "eagle"--in chasing, a "lark."
The bold United States,
Which four-and-forty rates,
Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly,
Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die."

All canvas expanded to woo the coy gale,
The ship cleared for action, in chase of a sail;
The foemen in view, every bosom beats high,
All eager for conquest, or ready to die.

Now havoc stands ready, with optics of flame,
And battle-hounds "strain on the start" for the game;
The blood demons rise on the surge for their prey,
While Pity, rejected, awaits the dread fray.

The gay floating streamers of Britain appear,
Waving light on the breeze as the stranger we near;
And now could the quick-sighted Yankee discern
"Macedonian," emblazoned at large on her stern.

She waited our approach, and the contest began,
But to waste ammunition is no Yankee plan;
In awful suspense every match was withheld,
While the bull-dogs of Britain incessantly yelled.

Unawed by her thunders, alongside we came,
While the foe seemed enwrapped in a mantle of flame;
When, prompt to the word, such a flood we return,
That Neptune, aghast, thought his trident would burn.

Now the lightning of battle gleams horridly red,
With a tempest of iron and hail-storm of lead;
And our fire on the foe we so copiously poured,
His mizzen and topmasts soon went by the board.

So fierce and so bright did our flashes aspire,
They thought that their cannon had set us on fire,
"The Yankee's in flames!"--every British tar hears,
And hails the false omen with three hearty cheers.

In seventeen minutes they found their mistake,
And were glad to surrender and fall in our wake;
Her decks were with carnage and blood deluged o'er,
Where welt'ring in blood lay an hundred and four.

But though she was made so completely a wreck,
With blood they had scarcely encrimsoned our deck;
Only five valiant Yankees in the contest were slain,
And our ship in five minutes was fitted again.

Let Britain no longer lay claim to the seas,
For the trident of Neptune is ours, if we please,
While Hull and Decatur and Jones are our boast,
We dare their whole navy to come on our coast.

Rise, tars of Columbia!--and share in the fame,
Which gilds Hull's, Decatur's, and Jones's bright name;
Fill a bumper, and drink, "Here's success to the cause,
But Decatur supremely deserves our applause."
The bold United States,
Which four-and-forty rates,
Shall ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly,
Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die."

The United States was commanded by Captain Stephen Decatur, and
just before she engaged the Macedonian an incident occurred
which showed his crew's unbounded confidence in him.

JACK CREAMER

[October 25, 1812]

The boarding nettings are triced for fight;
Pike and cutlass are shining bright;
The boatswain's whistle pipes loud and shrill;
Gunner and topman work with a will;
Rough old sailor and reefer trim
Jest as they stand by the cannon grim;
There's a fighting glint in Decatur's eye,
And brave Old Glory floats out on high.

But many a heart beats fast below
The laughing lips as they near the foe;
For the pluckiest knows, though no man quails,
That the breath of death is filling the sails.
Only one little face is wan;
Only one childish mouth is drawn;
One little heart is sad and sore
To the watchful eye of the Commodore.
Little Jack Creamer, ten years old,
In no purser's book or watch enrolled,
Must mope or skulk while his shipmates fight,--
No wonder his little face is white!

"Why, Jack, old man, so blue and sad?
Afraid of the music?" The face of the lad
With mingled shame and anger burns.
Quick to the Commodore he turns:
"I'm not a coward, but I think if you--
Excuse me, Capt'n, I mean if you knew
(I s'pose it's because I'm young and small)
I'm not on the books! I'm no one at all!
And as soon as this fighting work is done,
And we get our prize-money, every one
Has his share of the plunder--_I_ get none."

"And you're sure we shall take her?" "Sure? Why, sir,
She's only a blessed Britisher!
We'll take her easy enough, I bet;
But glory's all that I'm going to get!"
"Glory! I doubt if I get more,
If I get so much," said the Commodore;
"But faith goes far in the race for fame,
And down on the books shall go your name."

Bravely the little seaman stood
To his post while the scuppers ran with blood,
While grizzled veterans looked and smiled
And gathered new courage from the child;
Till the enemy, crippled in pride and might,
Struck his crimson flag and gave up the fight.
Then little Jack Creamer stood once more
Face to face with the Commodore.

"You have got your glory," he said, "my lad,
And money to make your sweetheart glad.
Now, who may she be?" "My mother, sir;
I want you to send the half to her."
"And the rest?" Jack blushed and hung his head;
"I'll buy some schoolin' with that," he said.

Decatur laughed; then in graver mood:
"The first is the better, but both are good.
Your mother shall never know want while I
Have a ship to sail, or a flag to fly;
And schooling you'll have till all is blue,
But little the lubbers can teach to you."

_Midshipman_ Creamer's story is told--
They did such things in the days of old,
When faith and courage won sure reward,
And the quarter-deck was not triply barred,
To the forecastle hero; for men were men,
And the Nation was close to its Maker then.

JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE.

Encouraged by these successes, Congress, on January 2, 1813,
appropriated $2,500,000 to build four 74-gun ships and six
44-gun ships. England also took them to heart, and toward the
end of the month the entire British fleet was sent to blockade
the Atlantic coast.

YANKEE THUNDERS

[1813]

Britannia's gallant streamers
Float proudly o'er the tide,
And fairly wave Columbia's stripes,
In battle side by side.
And ne'er did bolder seamen meet,
Where ocean's surges pour;
O'er the tide now they ride,
While the bell'wing thunders roar,
While the cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And the bell'wing thunders roar.

When Yankee meets the Briton,
Whose blood congenial flows,
By Heav'n created to be friends,
By fortune rendered foes;
Hard then must be the battle fray,
Ere well the fight is o'er;
Now they ride, side by side,
While the bell'wing thunders roar,
While her cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And the bell'wing thunders roar.

Still, still, for noble England
Bold D'Acres' streamers fly;
And for Columbia, gallant Hull's
As proudly and as high;
Now louder rings the battle din,
And thick the volumes pour;
Still they ride, side by side,
While the bell'wing thunders roar,
While the cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And the bell'wing thunders roar.

Why lulls Britannia's thunder,
That waked the wat'ry war?
Why stays the gallant Guerrière,
Whose streamers waved so fair?
That streamer drinks the ocean wave,
That warrior's fight is o'er!
Still they ride, side by side,
While the bell'wing thunders roar,
While the cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And the bell'wing thunders roar.

Hark! 'tis the Briton's lee gun!
Ne'er bolder warrior kneeled!
And ne'er to gallant mariners
Did braver seamen yield.
Proud be the sires, whose hardy boys
Then fell to fight no more:
With the brave, mid the wave;
When the cannon's thunders roar,
Their spirits then shall trim the blast,
And swell the thunder's roar.

Vain were the cheers of Britons,
Their hearts did vainly swell,
Where virtue, skill, and bravery
With gallant Morris fell.
That heart so well in battle tried,
Along the Moorish shore,
And again o'er the main,
When Columbia's thunders roar,
Shall prove its Yankee spirit true,
When Columbia's thunders roar.

Hence be our floating bulwark
Those oaks our mountains yield;
'Tis mighty Heaven's plain decree--
Then take the wat'ry field!
To ocean's farthest barrier then
Your whit'ning sail shall pour;
Safe they'll ride o'er the tide,
While Columbia's thunders roar,
While her cannon's fire is flashing fast,
And her Yankee thunders roar.

On March 11, 1813, the little privateer schooner, General
Armstrong, Captain Guy R. Champlin, was cruising off Surinam
River, when she sighted a sail, and on investigation found it
to be a large vessel, apparently a British privateer. Champlin
bore down and endeavored to board. The stranger kept off,
and, suddenly raising her port covers, disclosed herself as a
British 44-gun frigate. For forty-five minutes the Americans
stood to their guns and endeavored to dismast the enemy, then
gradually drew away and escaped.

THE GENERAL ARMSTRONG

[March 11, 1813]

Come, all you sons of Liberty, that to the seas belong,
It's worth your attention to listen to my song;
The history of a privateer I will detail in full,
That fought a "six-and-thirty" belonging to John Bull.

The General Armstrong she is called, and sailèd from New York,
With all our hearts undaunted, once more to try our luck;
She was a noble vessel, a privateer of fame:
She had a brave commander, George Champlin was his name.

We stood unto the eastward, all with a favoring gale,
In longitude of fifty we spied a lofty sail:
Our mainsail being lower'd and foresail to repair,
Our squaresail being set, my boys, the wind it provèd fair.

We very soon perceivèd the lofty sail to be
Bearing down upon us while we lay under her lee;
All hands we call'd, and sail did make, then splicèd the main-brace,
Night coming on, we sail'd so fast, she soon gave up the chase.

Then to Barbadoes we were bound, our course so well did steer;
We cruisèd there for several days, and nothing did appear.
'Twas on the 11th of March, to windward of Surinam,
We spied a lofty ship, my boys, at anchor near the land;
All hands we call'd to quarters, and down upon her bore,
Thinking 'twas some merchant-ship then lying near the shore.

She quickly weighèd anchor and from us did steer,
And setting her top-gallant sail as if she did us fear,
But soon we were alongside of her, and gave her a gun,
Determinèd to fight, my boys, and not from her to run.

We hoisted up the bloody flag and down upon her bore,
If she did not strike, my boys, no quarters we would show her;
Each man a brace of pistols, a boarding-pike and sword,
We'll give her a broadside, my boys, before we do her board.

All hands at their quarters lay, until we came alongside,
And gave them three hearty cheers, their British courage tried.
The lower ports she had shut in, the Armstrong to decoy,
And quickly she her ports did show, to daunt each Yankee boy.

The first broadside we gave them true, their colors shot away,
Their topsail, haulyards, mizen rigging, main and mizen stay,
Two ports we did knock into one, his starboard quarter tore,
They overboard their wounded flung, while cannons loud did roar.

She wore directly round, my boys, and piped all hands on deck,
For fear that we would board and serve a Yankee trick;
To board a six-and-thirty it was in vain to try,
While the grape, round, and langrage, like hailstones they did fly.

Brave Champlin on the quarter-deck so nobly gave command:
"Fight on, my brave Americans, dismast her if you can."
The round, grape, and star-shot so well did play,
A musket-ball from the maintop brave Champlin low did lay.

His wound was quickly dress'd, while he in his cabin lay;
The doctor, while attending, these words he heard him say:
"Our Yankee flag shall flourish," our noble captain cried,
"Before that we do strike, my boys, we'll sink alongside."

She was a six-and-thirty, and mounted forty-two,
We fought her four glasses, what more then could we do;
Till six brave seamen we had kill'd, which grievèd us full sore,
And thirteen more wounded lay bleeding in their gore.

Our foremast being wounded, and bowsprit likewise;
Our lower rigging fore and aft, and headstay beside;
Our haulyards, braces, bowling, and foretop sheet also,
We found we could not fight her, boys, so from her we did go.

Our foremast proving dangerous, we could not carry sail,
Although we had it fish'd and welded with a chain;
It grieved us to the heart to put up with such abuse,
For this damn'd English frigate had surely spoil'd our cruise.

Here's success attend brave Champlin, his officers and men,
That fought with courage keen, my boys, our lives to defend;
We fought with much superior force, what could we do more?
Then haul'd our wind and stood again for Freedom's happy shore.

On the land, the year opened badly with the disastrous defeat
of an American column, under General Winchester, at Raisin
River, Michigan; but on April 27 General Pike, at the head of
fifteen hundred men, stormed and captured the British fort at
York, now Toronto.

CAPTURE OF LITTLE YORK

[April 27, 1813]

When Britain, with envy and malice inflamed,
Dared dispute the dear rights of Columbia's bless'd union,
We thought of the time when our freedom we claim'd,
And fought 'gainst oppression with fullest communion.
Our foes on the ocean have been forced to yield,
And fresh laurels we now gather up in the field.

Freedom's flag on the wilds of the west is unfurl'd,
And our foes seem to find their resistance delusion;
For our eagle her arrows amongst them has hurl'd
And their ranks of bold veterans fill'd with confusion.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

On the lakes of the west, full of national pride,
See our brave little fleet most triumphantly riding!
And behold the brave tars on the fresh-water tide,
In a noble commander, brave Chauncey, confiding.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Their deeds of proud valor shall long stand enroll'd
On the bright shining page of our national glory:
And oft, in the deep winter's night, shall be told
The exploits of the tars of American story.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Nor less shall the soldiers come in for their praise,
Who engaged to accomplish the great expedition;
And a monument Fame shall for them cheerily raise,
And their deeds shall in history find repetition.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Let Britons still boast of their prowess and pluck;
We care not a straw for their muskets and cannon.
In the field we will beat them, unless they've the luck
To run from their foes like Tenedos and Shannon.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Our sweet little bull-dogs, they thunder'd away,
And our sailors and soldiers the foe still kept mauling,
Till they grew very sick of such tight Yankee play,
And poor Sheaffe and his troops then ran away bawling.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

But the rascals on malice quite fully were bent:
And as from the fort they were cowardly going,
In pursuance to what was at first their intent,
The magazine they had resolved on up-blowing.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Two hundred brave soldiers there met with their death;
And while for their country they nobly were dying,
Full fifty bold Britons at once lost their breath,
And with them in the air were their carcasses flying.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

The brave General Pike there met with his end;
But his virtues his country forever will cherish:
And while o'er his grave fair Freedom shall bend,
She will swear that his memory never shall perish.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Let the minions of Britain swarm over our coast;
Columbians, all cowardly conduct disdaining,
We'll teach the invaders how vain is their boast,
And contend, whilst a drop of their blood is remaining.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Then, freemen, arise, and gird on your swords,
And declare, while you still have the means of resistance,
That you ne'er will give up for the threatening of words,
Nor of arms, those dear rights which you prize as existence.
Our foes on the ocean, etc.

Forty of the enemy and more than two hundred Americans were
killed or wounded by the explosion of a magazine, just as the
place surrendered. General Pike was mortally wounded, and died
with his head on the British flag which had been brought to him.

THE DEATH OF GENERAL PIKE

[April 27, 1813]

'Twas on the glorious day
When our valiant triple band
Drove the British troops away
From their strong and chosen stand;
When the city York was taken,
And the Bloody Cross hauled down
From the walls of the town
Its defenders had forsaken.

The gallant Pike had moved
A hurt foe to a spot
A little more removed
From the death-shower of the shot;
And he himself was seated
On the fragment of an oak,
And to a captive spoke,
Of the troops he had defeated.

He was seated in a place,
Not to shun the leaden rain
He had been the first to face,
And now burned to brave again,
But had chosen that position
Till the officer's return
The truth who'd gone to learn
Of the garrison's condition.

When suddenly the ground
With a dread convulsion shook,
And arose a frightful sound,
And the sun was hid in smoke;
And huge stones and rafters, driven
Athwart the heavy rack,
Fell, fatal on their track
As the thunderbolt of Heaven.

Then two hundred men and more,
Of our bravest and our best,
Lay all ghastly in their gore,
And the hero with the rest.
On their folded arms they laid him;
But he raised his dying breath:
"On, men, avenge the death
Of your general!" They obeyed him.

They obeyed. Three cheers they gave,
Closed their scattered ranks, and on.
Though their leader found a grave,
Yet the hostile town was won.
To a vessel straight they bore him
Of the gallant Chauncey's fleet,
And, the conquest complete,
Spread the British flag before him.

O'er his eyes the long, last night
Was already falling fast;
But came back again the light
For a moment; 'twas the last.
With a victor's joy they fired,
'Neath his head by signs he bade
The trophy should be laid;
And, thus pillowed, Pike expired.

LAUGHTON OSBORN.

General William Henry Harrison, meanwhile, at the head of the
western army, was besieged in Fort Meigs, at the mouth of the
Maumee, by a large force of Indians and British. On May 1 the
British made a determined assault, but were beaten off; a few
days later, after a desperate battle with a relief column, the
British raised the siege and retreated to Canada.

OLD FORT MEIGS

[April 28--May 9, 1813]

Oh! lonely is our old green fort,
Where oft, in days of old,
Our gallant soldiers bravely fought
'Gainst savage allies bold;
But with the change of years have pass'd
That unrelenting foe,
Since we fought here with Harrison,
A long time ago.

It seems but yesterday I heard,
From yonder thicket nigh,
The unerring rifle's sharp report,
The Indian's startling cry.
Yon brooklet flowing at our feet,
With crimson gore did flow,
When we fought here with Harrison,
A long time ago.

The river rolls between its banks,
As when of old we came,
Each grassy path, each shady nook,
Seems to me still the same;
But we are scatter'd now, whose faith
Pledged here, through weal or woe,
With Harrison our soil to guard,
A long time ago.

But many a soldier's lip is mute,
And clouded many a brow,
And hearts that beat for honor then,
Have ceased their throbbing now.
We ne'er shall meet again in life
As then we met, I trow,
When we fought here with Harrison,
A long time ago.

The remarkable list of victories on the ocean was soon to be
broken, for on June 1, 1813, the 36-gun frigate, Chesapeake,
was defeated and captured by the British 38-gun frigate,
Shannon.

THE SHANNON AND THE CHESAPEAKE

[June 1, 1813]

The captain of the Shannon came sailing up the bay,
A reeling wind flung out behind his pennons bright and gay;
His cannon crashed a challenge; the smoke that hid the sea
Was driven hard to windward and drifted back to lee.

The captain of the Shannon sent word into the town:
Was Lawrence there, and would he dare to sail his frigate down
And meet him at the harbor's mouth and fight him, gun to gun,
For honor's sake, with pride at stake, until the fight was won?

Now, long the gallant Lawrence had scoured the bitter main;
With many a scar and wound of war his ship was home again;
His crew, relieved from service, were scattered far and wide,
And scarcely one, his duty done, had lingered by his side.

But to refuse the challenge? Could he outlive the shame?
Brave men and true, but deadly few, he gathered to his fame.
Once more the great ship Chesapeake prepared her for the fight,--
"I'll bring the foe to town in tow," he said, "before to-night!"

High on the hills of Hingham that overlooked the shore,
To watch the fray and hope and pray, for they could do no more,
The children of the country watched the children of the sea
When the smoke drove hard to windward and drifted back to lee.

"How can he fight," they whispered, "with only half a crew,
Though they be rare to do and dare, yet what can brave men do?"
But when the Chesapeake came down, the Stars and Stripes on high,
Stilled was each fear, and cheer on cheer resounded to the sky.

The Captain of the Shannon, he swore both long and loud:
"This victory, where'er it be, shall make two nations proud!
Now onward to this victory or downward to defeat!
A sailor's life is sweet with strife, a sailor's death as sweet."

And as when lightnings rend the sky and gloomy thunders roar,
And crashing surge plays devil's dirge upon the stricken shore,
With thunder and with sheets of flame the two ships rang with shot,
And every gun burst forth a sun of iron crimson-hot.

And twice they lashed together and twice they tore apart,
And iron balls burst wooden walls and pierced each oaken heart.
Still from the hills of Hingham men watched with hopes and fears,
While all the bay was torn that day with shot that rained like tears.

The tall masts of the Chesapeake went groaning by the board;
The Shannon's spars were weak with scars when Broke cast down his sword;
"Now woe," he cried, "to England, and shame and woe to me!"
The smoke drove hard to windward and drifted back to lee.

"Give them one breaking broadside more," he cried, "before we strike!"
But one grim ball that ruined all for hope and home alike
Laid Lawrence low in glory, yet from his pallid lip
Rang to the land his last command: "Boys, don't give up the ship!"

* * * * *

The wounded wept like women when they hauled her ensign down.
Men's cheeks were pale as with the tale from Hingham to the town
They hurried in swift silence, while toward the eastern night
The victor bore away from shore and vanished out of sight.

Hail to the great ship Chesapeake! Hail to the hero brave
Who fought her fast, and loved her last, and shared her sudden grave!
And glory be to those that died for all eternity;
They lie apart at the mother-heart of God's eternal sea.

THOMAS TRACY BOUVÉ.

A British versifier celebrated the victory by composing a
ballad in imitation of the famous one about the Constitution
and Guerrière.

CHESAPEAKE AND SHANNON

[June 1, 1813]

The Chesapeake so bold
Out of Boston, I've been told,
Came to take a British Frigate
Neat and handy O!
While the people of the port
Flocked out to see the sport,
With their music playing
Yankee Doodle Dandy O!

Now the British Frigate's name
Which for the purpose came
Of cooling Yankee courage
Neat and handy O!
Was the Shannon, Captain Broke,
Whose crew were heart of oak,
And for the fighting were confessed
To be the dandy O!

The engagement scarce begun
Ere they flinched from their guns,
Which at first they thought of working
Neat and handy O!
The bold Broke he waved his sword,
Crying, "Now, my lads, on board,
And we'll stop their playing
Yankee Doodle Dandy O!"

They no sooner heard the word
Than they quickly rushed aboard
And hauled down the Yankee ensign
Neat and handy O!
Notwithstanding all their brag,
Now the glorious British flag
At the Yankee's mizzen-peak
Was quite the dandy O!