drug laudanum (an opiate) and had taken to babbling incoherently and singing to himself all the time, according to one of his generals.
By the following spring, after a wretched term in winter quarters during which many soldiers froze to death or died of disease, Wilkinson had pulled himself together enough for another go at it, though without the services of Hampton, who still refused to have anything to do with him. This time Wilkinson took 4,000 of his men toward Montreal, but as soon as they had cleared Lake Champlain and crossed over into Canada they encountered a small, squat blockhouse with fewer than 200 British soldiers inside. Wilkinson besieged it, but when the small cannons he brought up failed to dent the little fort’s stone walls, he reversed tracks and marched his army back to the United States, where he was relieved of command, this time for good.
T here was, however, one military front upon which the United States
had
achieved success thus far in the war. This was at sea, which is almost astonishing since the British navy could count on one thousand ships in its war fleet while the pitiful American navy could muster only seven frigates, a handful of sloops of war, and a few gunboats. The problem for the British was that most of their navy was tied up fighting Napoleon’s ships, blockading the French coast, or attacking French-held colonies in the Caribbean. Even so, the British navy had a force in North American waters more than twice the size of the U.S. fleet. It is all the more remarkable that this inferior collection of American naval ships not only battled the great British navy to a standstill but, in doing so, their heroics produced a number of historically celebrated slogans and mottoes, such as “Don’t give up the ship,” which even today easily roll off the tongues of Americans.
In the closing months of the previous year, the few American frigates gave a very good account of themselves against the British navy. Frigates, though not nearly as large as ships of the line, were nevertheless formidible warships. Fairly typical of an American frigate of the day was the
Constitution,
a 204-foot-long, oak-sided three-master built in 1798. She could do more than thirteen knots (about fifteen miles per hour) under a full acre of sail, and at that rate travel about 350 miles in a twenty-four-hour period, providing the winds were perfect (which they usually weren’t). The
Constitution
carried a crew of 450, including 50 marines and 30 “cabin boys,” some as young as nine, who fought too.
In battle, the marines manned the “fighting tops”—wooden shooting platforms at various levels up the masts—from where they could bring a murderous rifle fire down on an enemy in close quarters.
Constitution
was armed with thirty-two twenty-four-pounder long guns with an effective range of twelve hundred yards, nearly three-quarters of a mile (most cannon in those days were identified by the weight of their projectile), twenty thirty-two-pounder short guns (with a range of four hundred yards), and two twenty-four-pounder “bow chasers” with a range of a thousand yards. She was not equipped with stern guns, on the assumption that she was there to fight, not to run.
On August 19, 1812, the
Constitution
encountered the British frigate HMS
Guerrière
two days out of Boston, and a sea fight ensued. Captained by Isaac Hull (nephew of the odious army general William Hull),
Constitution
opened fire first with a double-shotted broadside that seemed to cause
Guerrière
to leap out of the water. Within thirty minutes the British ship was dismasted, her hull torn to pieces, and many of her crew dead or dying. Being without masts from which to strike her colors, she fired a gun to leeward (recognized as a sign of maritime surrender), and, after removing the remainder of her crew, the sailors aboard
Constitution
watched
Guerrière
slip slowly beneath the waves.
So sturdy was the oak from which
Constitution
was
By the following spring, after a wretched term in winter quarters during which many soldiers froze to death or died of disease, Wilkinson had pulled himself together enough for another go at it, though without the services of Hampton, who still refused to have anything to do with him. This time Wilkinson took 4,000 of his men toward Montreal, but as soon as they had cleared Lake Champlain and crossed over into Canada they encountered a small, squat blockhouse with fewer than 200 British soldiers inside. Wilkinson besieged it, but when the small cannons he brought up failed to dent the little fort’s stone walls, he reversed tracks and marched his army back to the United States, where he was relieved of command, this time for good.
T here was, however, one military front upon which the United States
had
achieved success thus far in the war. This was at sea, which is almost astonishing since the British navy could count on one thousand ships in its war fleet while the pitiful American navy could muster only seven frigates, a handful of sloops of war, and a few gunboats. The problem for the British was that most of their navy was tied up fighting Napoleon’s ships, blockading the French coast, or attacking French-held colonies in the Caribbean. Even so, the British navy had a force in North American waters more than twice the size of the U.S. fleet. It is all the more remarkable that this inferior collection of American naval ships not only battled the great British navy to a standstill but, in doing so, their heroics produced a number of historically celebrated slogans and mottoes, such as “Don’t give up the ship,” which even today easily roll off the tongues of Americans.
In the closing months of the previous year, the few American frigates gave a very good account of themselves against the British navy. Frigates, though not nearly as large as ships of the line, were nevertheless formidible warships. Fairly typical of an American frigate of the day was the
Constitution,
a 204-foot-long, oak-sided three-master built in 1798. She could do more than thirteen knots (about fifteen miles per hour) under a full acre of sail, and at that rate travel about 350 miles in a twenty-four-hour period, providing the winds were perfect (which they usually weren’t). The
Constitution
carried a crew of 450, including 50 marines and 30 “cabin boys,” some as young as nine, who fought too.
In battle, the marines manned the “fighting tops”—wooden shooting platforms at various levels up the masts—from where they could bring a murderous rifle fire down on an enemy in close quarters.
Constitution
was armed with thirty-two twenty-four-pounder long guns with an effective range of twelve hundred yards, nearly three-quarters of a mile (most cannon in those days were identified by the weight of their projectile), twenty thirty-two-pounder short guns (with a range of four hundred yards), and two twenty-four-pounder “bow chasers” with a range of a thousand yards. She was not equipped with stern guns, on the assumption that she was there to fight, not to run.
On August 19, 1812, the
Constitution
encountered the British frigate HMS
Guerrière
two days out of Boston, and a sea fight ensued. Captained by Isaac Hull (nephew of the odious army general William Hull),
Constitution
opened fire first with a double-shotted broadside that seemed to cause
Guerrière
to leap out of the water. Within thirty minutes the British ship was dismasted, her hull torn to pieces, and many of her crew dead or dying. Being without masts from which to strike her colors, she fired a gun to leeward (recognized as a sign of maritime surrender), and, after removing the remainder of her crew, the sailors aboard
Constitution
watched
Guerrière
slip slowly beneath the waves.
So sturdy was the oak from which
Constitution
was
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