The Shining Sea (39 page)

S
HORTLY AFTER THEY LEFT
N
UKU
H
IVA, AN INCIDENT OCCURRED
on the
Essex
that dismayed everyone. A thoughtless boatswain's mate struck Tamaha, the Tahitian who had been such a help to Porter when he first arrived in the Marquesas. The blow came as a complete surprise, injuring Tamaha's pride and heart more than his body. He could not understand why he was beaten; he had done everything in his power to ingratiate himself with the Americans. He felt humiliated and cried at first,
but then declared that he would not be struck again.

The ship was twenty miles from Nuku Hiva, and night was approaching. A wind was blowing and the sea was getting up, when, unseen, Tamaha jumped overboard. A seaman heard a splash, but did not report it. Tamaha's absence wasn't noticed until quarters the next morning. Porter hoped that he had taken an oar or something to buoy himself with, but he had no way of knowing if he had, and he feared that he had drowned. Farragut reported many years later that an officer on one of the prizes moored in Taiohae Bay said that Tamaha reached Nuku Hiva in tolerably good health, three days after leaping overboard. Porter did not record how he punished the boatswain's mate, but it's certain that he made the man regret his hasty action.

F
OR NINE DAYS AFTER THE
E
SSEX
AND
E
SSEX
J
UNIOR
LEFT
Nuku Hiva, the winds blew chiefly from north-northeast to northwest. After that, they generally blew from the northwest. Porter sailed east, making nine degrees of longitude the first three days. On December 18, the
Essex
reached longitude 131° west. The rest of the voyage went nearly as well. “Nothing of unusual interest occurred during our passage,” David Farragut reported. Porter continually drilled the men in small arms and boarding, something he had done throughout their odyssey. “Every day the crew were exercised at the great guns, small arms, and single stick,” Farragut remembered.

As Porter approached the coast of South America, he wrote a letter to Downes, dated January 10, 1814. In it, he revealed why he was hell-bent on going to Valparaiso, and what his strategy would be when they got there. He made it clear that he was determined to engage the British warships that Downes had reported were searching for him—
Phoebe, Cherub
,
and
Racoon
. Porter did not intend to fight all three at once. If he had the misfortune of falling in with them, he planned “to make my retreat in the best manner I can.”

Of course, he was hoping that this did not happen, that he would only have to fight two, or, ideally, one—the big frigate
Phoebe
. “If we fall in with the
Phoebe
and one sloop of war,” he advised Downes, “you must endeavor to draw the sloop off in chase of you and get her as far to leeward of the frigate as possible, and as soon as you effect this I shall engage the frigate. “If we meet the
Phoebe
alone and to leeward of us, I shall run along side of her.” In this case, Downes was to remain to windward, out of gunshot range and observe. If the
Essex
was getting the better of the engagement, Downes was to do nothing, but if the
Phoebe
was gaining the upper hand, Downes was to intervene and enable the
Essex
to haul off.

If the
Phoebe
was to windward, Porter would attempt to gain the weather gauge (get to windward of her). If he failed, he would try to disable her with his stern guns, so as to obtain an advantage. Otherwise, although he did not say so explicitly, he would do everything possible to avoid giving the
Phoebe
an opportunity to fire on the
Essex
with her long guns, if the
Essex
was unable to respond with her short-range carronades.

In the event they ran across the
Phoebe
and a sloop of war while the
Essex
and
Essex Junior
were to windward, Downes was to “draw the sloop off . . . and leave this
Phoebe
to me,” Porter wrote.

“I wish you to avoid an engagement with a sloop if possible,” he cautioned Downes, “as your ship is too weak; if, however, you cannot avoid an action endeavor to cut her up so as to prevent her from coming to the assistance of the
Phoebe
.

“I shall in all probability run alongside the
Phoebe
under the Spanish ensign and pendant; should I do so you will show British colors until I hoist the American.

“It will be advisable for you at all times to keep to windward of us,” he wrote. This was the ideal position, of course, but it might be impossible to achieve, particularly against seasoned British captains.

Needless to say, instead of planning a grand battle against what would surely be heavy odds, Porter would have been far better off sailing around the Horn with his prizes into the South Atlantic and proceeding home.
If he got into a fight along the way, so much the better. At least he would be following a strategy that had some logic to it.

O
N
J
ANUARY 12, A MONTH AFTER LEAVING
M
ASSACHUSETTS
B
AY
, a lookout at the main masthead sighted Mocha Island—normally to windward of Valparaiso. Without stopping, Porter moved slowly north to Santa Maria Island, where he filled his water casks, looked into Concepción, decided not to stop, and proceeded on a leisurely cruise north. On February 3, 1814, he sailed into Valparaiso Bay and anchored off the city.

After exchanging salutes with the battery on old Fort Viejo, he went ashore to pay his respects to the acting governor, Francisco de Formas. The reception was friendly, and the following day, Porter received the governor, his wife, and entourage aboard the
Essex
with a salute. The placid atmosphere of the port belied the fact that since Porter left Valparaiso almost a year earlier, Chile had been in turmoil. Royalists, directed by the viceroy of Peru, had been fighting republicans led by the Carrera brothers, Bernardo O'Higgins, and Juan Mackenna, with neither side being able to win a decisive victory. The American consul general, Joel Poinsett, continued to lend his wholehearted support to José Miguel Carrera, even though it was unclear if the Carreras would survive. The viceroy in Peru had initiated the conflict when he simultaneously invaded Argentina and Chile in 1813, seeking to overthrow their republican governments and returning the countries to Spanish rule. The fighting was intense. By March 1814 the royalists had gained the upper hand. They had captured José Miguel Carrera and his brother Luis, and threatened Santiago.

In this tense atmosphere, Colonel Francisco de la Lastra rose to power. He had been governor of Valparaiso when Porter first arrived in March 1813. A year later, in Santiago (while Porter was again in Valparaiso), he became supreme director of Chile with dictatorial powers. Lastra had been nominally a republican, but, as Porter had sensed the year before, Lastra was ready to align himself with whichever side won. He had no problem pledging allegiance to Ferdinand VII, the Spanish king whom the British were about to restore to his throne. Ferdinand's policy, although unknown in Chile at the time, was to turn back the clock to a time before the American and French Revolutions and make Chile a royalist colony again ruled from Madrid as she had been for centuries.

Communications were so poor in Chile that when Porter arrived in Valparaiso in February, the state of the war between the royalist and republican armies was unknown. No one suspected that in just a few weeks the royalists would gain a significant advantage.

Soon after Porter's arrival in February, he learned of the uncertain political and military situation, which had to be a factor in his thinking, but the British hunters were foremost in his mind. He sent
Essex Junior
to take up a position offshore, where Downes could intercept enemy merchantmen and whalers, while keeping an eye out for hostile warships. Porter was convinced that at least the
Phoebe
and the
Cherub
would appear, and perhaps the
Racoon
. Other warships might be on the way as well. But that might not be the case. He would just have to wait and see. In the meantime,
Essex
and
Essex Junior
were in a high state of readiness.

On February 7, Porter repaid the kindness of the governor and the people of Valparaiso by throwing a party aboard the
Essex
. Lieutenant Downes was invited. He was to anchor the
Essex Junior
in a place that would afford a full view of the sea. As was the normal routine on the
Essex
, one-third of the crew was on shore leave. Dancing continued until midnight, after which Lieutenant Downes returned to his ship and put to sea, taking up his normal station. His crew resumed their regular routine, but there was to be nothing routine about this night. The
Essex
's crew were in the midst of taking down awnings and flags and generally cleaning up after the party, when
Essex Junior
made a signal—two enemy ships in sight.

George O'Brien, skipper of the English merchantman
Emily
, which was anchored in the harbor, received a signal as well. He leaped into a boat with some men and rowed out to the largest British warship he saw, HMS
Phoebe
, and warned Captain James Hillyar that the
Essex
was in Valparaiso. Hillyar was ecstatic; he had finally found what he had been after all these many months. O'Brien volunteered to help. He had once been a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, but had been broken for misconduct and joined the merchant service. He held no grudges, however, and offered every assistance to Hillyar, even telling him that the entire crew of the
Emily
would volunteer to fight aboard the
Phoebe
.

While O'Brien conferred with Hillyar, a gun sounded on the
Essex
and a signal shot up for all men and boats to return. Within a remarkably short
time, every sailor was aboard the
Essex
preparing for battle. Only one appeared drunk.

Porter rowed out to
Essex Junior
to have a look for himself. What he saw—two large British warships, probably a frigate and a sloop of war—was both sobering and exhilarating. He immediately ordered Downes to run the
Essex Junior
into port and take up a position where
Essex Junior
and
Essex
could support each other. When Porter returned to the
Essex
at half past seven in the morning, he found the ship fully prepared for action. At eight o'clock the two British ships entered the harbor, also ready for battle. The larger one, the powerful 36-gun
Phoebe
, kept coming right at the
Essex
, approaching to within a few yards. Her crew was at battle stations.

All was in readiness on the
Essex
as well, the men filled with anticipation. Guns were boused out. Boarders gripped their cutlasses and checked their small arms. Every officer and man had a weapon, standing by for the order to board. The
Phoebe
drew even closer. Just then, the one tipsy youth imagined that he saw a British sailor making faces at him. He shouted that he'd stop the man from making fun of him and went to apply slow-match to his cannon. Before he could, Lieutenant McKnight punched him and sent him sprawling. If the seaman had succeeded in firing, a fierce battle would have ensued, in which Porter and the
Essex
would have had a decided advantage because of the power of their 32-pound carronades, and undoubtedly would have smashed the
Phoebe
into submission.

The British captain was now clearly visible on his quarterdeck in a pea jacket. He was close enough to yell to Porter through a trumpet, “Captain Hillyar's compliments to Captain Porter and hopes all is well.”

As men on the
Essex
stood tensely by their weapons, Porter shouted back through his trumpet, “Very well, I thank you, but I hope you will not come too near, for fear some accident might take place which would be disagreeable to you,” and with a wave of his trumpet the kedge anchors went up to the yardarms, ready to grapple the enemy.

Playing on the fact that Valparaiso was a neutral harbor, Hillyar had approached the
Essex
close enough to see that she had not been taken by surprise, as he had hoped. She had a full complement of men aboard. George O'Brien's report that a large part of Porter's crew were on shore
turned out to be inaccurate, and Hillyar had to quickly adjust his thinking. His gambit had failed. Instead of being unprepared, the
Essex
was ready. Her deadly carronades were close enough to devastate the
Phoebe
. Seeing this, Hillyar suddenly braced back his yards while crying out that if he did fall aboard the
Essex
it would be entirely by accident.

Porter yelled back, “You have no business where you are. If you touch a rope-yarn of this ship, I shall board instantly.” At the same time, he signaled Downes on
Essex Junior
to be ready to repel the enemy.

“O, sir,” Hillyar shouted to Porter, in a careless and indifferent manner, “I have no intention of getting on board of you.”

Hillyar was no stranger to Porter. They had become well acquainted in 1807 when both were serving in the Mediterranean. As Porter recalled, “While [Hillyar's] family resided at Gibraltar, I was in the habit of visiting them frequently, and had spent many happy hours in their company. . . . For Captain Hillyar and his family I entertained the highest respect; and among the American officers generally, no officer of the British navy was so great a favorite as Captain Hillyar.”

Nonetheless, Porter was leery of Hillyar's intentions. Hillyar had a well-deserved reputation for ignoring neutrality when it suited his purposes. An experienced commander who had seen plenty of action, Hillyar had demonstrated more than once what few scruples he had when victory demanded that he ignore neutral rights. In 1800, in the port of Barcelona, for instance, he had used a neutral Swedish vessel to sneak boatloads of men into the harbor, past a Spanish battery to attack an unsuspecting enemy in the harbor.