Scotia.
Nevertheless, the Americans by this point were not just holding their own against the British in naval actions, they were actually ahead. Yet the strong presence of the British navy on the Great Lakes continued to hamper American operations on the Northern frontier, since the most efficient way to move men, ordnance, and matériel was by water, which the British could do with impunity, while the Americans could not. It was thus determined by the War Department to attempt to rectify the situation.
To that end, a twenty-seven-year-old naval officer, Captain Oliver Hazard Perry,* 12 was ordered in mid-1813 to the shores of Lake Erie, where five American warships were in the process of being built: two twenty-gun brigantines and three smaller two-gun schooners.* 13 Perry immediately conducted a surprise raid on a British-held harbor at the westward end of the lake, which contained two of His Majesty’s brigantines, and he captured both; although one ran aground and had to be destroyed, the other was joined to the growing American fleet. Perry also was able to purchase several merchant craft, which he armed and manned for warfare, bringing his squadron to a total of nine ships of one description or another. Then, on September 10, 1813, Perry sallied out of Presque Isle (now the harbor of Erie, Pennsylvania) in hopes of doing battle with the six warships of the British Lake Erie fleet.
His hopes were quickly fulfilled, though not without some trepidations. Like Lawrence on the
Chesapeake,
Perry suffered from a critical lack of trained seamen. Fortunately, the army commander in the area, General William Henry Harrison,* 14 scoured the ranks of his soldiers for experienced seamen, cannoneers, and marksmen and sent them to Perry with the foresight that if Perry and his navy could rid Lake Erie of the British, then his (Harrison’s) own job would be that much easier.
Under sail since dawn, Perry finally spied the British squadron on the western end of the lake just before noon, and the two adversaries began to close. Perry had the wind to his back, giving him a tactical advantage, and, as well, he could throw nearly a third more metal. The battle was fierce and ardent, but after two hours Perry’s flagship,
Lawrence,
had suffered some 80 percent casualties out of a crew of 136 and was turning into a wreck. Instead of striking colors, however, Perry had himself rowed over to the brig
Niagara,
where he continued the fight. Soon the heavier American firepower began to tell. By three p.m., four of the British ships struck colors, their commanders either killed or wounded, and two others that tried to escape were seized and captured. According to historian Hickey, “When the victors boarded the
Detroit
they found a pet bear lapping up blood on the decks and two Indians hiding in the hold.”
Temporarily, at least, Perry’s victory became a restorative tonic for an American public presently accustomed to bitter and disappointing news. As a military objective it was a brilliant success, since the British had been driven from Lake Erie altogether. Once again a significant literary sidelight occurred when Perry’s communiqué to Harrison was published: “We have met the enemy and he is ours.”* 15
Three
I n June 1812, just a few days after the declaration of war, Andrew Jackson, major general of Tennessee militia, dispatched from the Hermitage, his magnificent home in Nashville, a letter to President Madison offering to transport his 2,500-man division of Tennessee infantry on an immediate invasion of British Canada with the intention of conquering Quebec “in ninety days.”
The offer was accepted by Secretary of War Armstrong, but orders never arrived. As the months passed, Jackson became infuriated that commanders such as Wilkinson and Dearborn—whom he rightly considered incompetent—were being tapped to lead campaigns up north while he languished in Tennessee with a full division of trained militia eager
Nevertheless, the Americans by this point were not just holding their own against the British in naval actions, they were actually ahead. Yet the strong presence of the British navy on the Great Lakes continued to hamper American operations on the Northern frontier, since the most efficient way to move men, ordnance, and matériel was by water, which the British could do with impunity, while the Americans could not. It was thus determined by the War Department to attempt to rectify the situation.
To that end, a twenty-seven-year-old naval officer, Captain Oliver Hazard Perry,* 12 was ordered in mid-1813 to the shores of Lake Erie, where five American warships were in the process of being built: two twenty-gun brigantines and three smaller two-gun schooners.* 13 Perry immediately conducted a surprise raid on a British-held harbor at the westward end of the lake, which contained two of His Majesty’s brigantines, and he captured both; although one ran aground and had to be destroyed, the other was joined to the growing American fleet. Perry also was able to purchase several merchant craft, which he armed and manned for warfare, bringing his squadron to a total of nine ships of one description or another. Then, on September 10, 1813, Perry sallied out of Presque Isle (now the harbor of Erie, Pennsylvania) in hopes of doing battle with the six warships of the British Lake Erie fleet.
His hopes were quickly fulfilled, though not without some trepidations. Like Lawrence on the
Chesapeake,
Perry suffered from a critical lack of trained seamen. Fortunately, the army commander in the area, General William Henry Harrison,* 14 scoured the ranks of his soldiers for experienced seamen, cannoneers, and marksmen and sent them to Perry with the foresight that if Perry and his navy could rid Lake Erie of the British, then his (Harrison’s) own job would be that much easier.
Under sail since dawn, Perry finally spied the British squadron on the western end of the lake just before noon, and the two adversaries began to close. Perry had the wind to his back, giving him a tactical advantage, and, as well, he could throw nearly a third more metal. The battle was fierce and ardent, but after two hours Perry’s flagship,
Lawrence,
had suffered some 80 percent casualties out of a crew of 136 and was turning into a wreck. Instead of striking colors, however, Perry had himself rowed over to the brig
Niagara,
where he continued the fight. Soon the heavier American firepower began to tell. By three p.m., four of the British ships struck colors, their commanders either killed or wounded, and two others that tried to escape were seized and captured. According to historian Hickey, “When the victors boarded the
Detroit
they found a pet bear lapping up blood on the decks and two Indians hiding in the hold.”
Temporarily, at least, Perry’s victory became a restorative tonic for an American public presently accustomed to bitter and disappointing news. As a military objective it was a brilliant success, since the British had been driven from Lake Erie altogether. Once again a significant literary sidelight occurred when Perry’s communiqué to Harrison was published: “We have met the enemy and he is ours.”* 15
Three
I n June 1812, just a few days after the declaration of war, Andrew Jackson, major general of Tennessee militia, dispatched from the Hermitage, his magnificent home in Nashville, a letter to President Madison offering to transport his 2,500-man division of Tennessee infantry on an immediate invasion of British Canada with the intention of conquering Quebec “in ninety days.”
The offer was accepted by Secretary of War Armstrong, but orders never arrived. As the months passed, Jackson became infuriated that commanders such as Wilkinson and Dearborn—whom he rightly considered incompetent—were being tapped to lead campaigns up north while he languished in Tennessee with a full division of trained militia eager
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