Through the Perilous Fight Page 27

  Once again, the weather conspired against Gordon. Contrary winds forced the squadron to laboriously warp down the channel, dashing hopes for a quick escape. With reports that the Americans were constructing a battery just downriver, Gordon sent ahead some lighter vessels, including the bomb ship Meteor and several barges, with orders to attack the battery and prevent its further fortification.

  The American battery, on the Belvoir Neck below Mount Vernon, commanded the Potomac channel from atop a hundred-foot-high bluff at White House Landing. Porter and his crew from the Essex, along with a contingent of marines, had reached the location Thursday, joining Virginia militia who had been clearing the site for cannon. By Friday morning, two eighteen-pounders and smaller pieces were in place, making a formidable obstacle. A large flag carrying the slogan FREE TRADE AND SAILORS RIGHTS—which Porter had flown from Essex on her Pacific cruise—was planted defiantly atop the bluff.

  Porter’s fellow commodores, Oliver Perry and John Rodgers, remained at the smoldering Washington Navy Yard, hurrying preparations to join the attack. At the urging of James Monroe, Perry would bring artillery and men to a point on Maryland’s Potomac shore downriver from Porter’s position. With the naval heroes manning batteries on both sides of the river, Monroe told Rodgers, “I think we might demolish them.” Rodgers, for his part, was forming a squadron of three “fire vessels” loaded with incendiary materials. These would be set ablaze and directed at the British ships as they tried to escape.

  At daylight Friday, Porter saw the lead enemy ships approach the American battery and anchor out of range of the American guns. Meteor opened fire at 9 a.m., dropping shells around the battery, and a British barge moved close to rake the shore with grape and canister. Porter moved an eighteen-pounder up the shore to fire back. To the navy captain’s pleasant surprise the Virginia militiamen protecting the battery proved unflinchingly brave through the fire.

  Heavy fire rumbled back and forth all day Friday and well into the night. It was obvious to Gordon that without a fair wind, it would be suicidal to push past the strongpoint. The battle on the Potomac was just beginning.

  WASHINGTON, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 2

  For the Madison administration, Key’s mission had implications well beyond the fate of Dr. Beanes, prominent though he was. Conferring with Key, General John Mason told the attorney that allowing the British to claim the noncombatant Beanes as a prisoner of war would establish a dangerous precedent. “[I]t is impossible that the government can yield a point of so much national importance involved in this case, as to admit that he is an exchangeable prisoner of war, since it would at once induce the enemy to seize and carry off every unarmed citizen of whatever age they may have in their power,” Mason said.

  The forty-eight-year-old Mason, who had accompanied Madison on much of his sojourn after the capture of Washington, was a close confidant of the president. Madison had been a friend of his father, the great Virginia patriot George Mason, a prime force in the creation of the Bill of Rights. John Mason was a prominent merchant, banker, and landholder in Washington—he owned Mason’s Island along the Virginia shore of the Potomac, where he and Madison stopped briefly during the flight from Washington. Mason had proven effective as commissary general of prisoners, navigating intricate rules governing the exchange of prisoners with the British.

  Mason wrote a letter Friday formally authorizing Key and Skinner to launch the mission and instructing them on the negotiations. He was brief, telling Key that Skinner was already “well possessed of all the general arguments on our side.”

  The Americans, Mason instructed, would argue that Beanes “was absolved” from any truce agreement he made with the British because when the doctor captured the stragglers, the British had already withdrawn from Upper Marlboro. Should the British still refuse to release Beanes as a noncombatant, Mason authorized Key and Skinner to issue as a “last resort” a receipt that the British could use in a future prisoner exchange, but to be accompanied by a statement of the American position.

  Mason also wrote letters for the Americans to deliver to Cochrane and Ross describing Key as “a citizen of the highest respectability” who had been authorized along with Skinner to seek Beanes’s release. “I confidently trust, sir, that when you shall have been made acquainted with the facts in the case, you will order the immediate release and restoration to his family of that gentleman,” Mason wrote Ross. “[H]e is far advanced in life, infirmed; and unaccustomed to privations by which he must now suffer severely.”

  Mason took time to scribble one more note, the most important he would write. It was addressed to Colonel William Thornton, the British officer who had led the charge across the bridge at Bladensburg, and who was now the senior officer among the wounded left behind. In the week since the battle, the British wounded had been treated quite humanely by the Americans, in keeping with instructions from Mason.

  In his note, Mason told Colonel Thornton that a truce party would leave shortly and would take any open letters the wounded men wished to send back to the fleet. Several prisoners, among them Sergeant Hutchinson of the Royal Sappers and Miners and Alexander Gunn of the 21st Fusiliers, wrote letters to Ross expressing gratitude for the humane American treatment. Thornton, who had received what he considered “the most marked kindness,” also picked up pen and paper.

  At his home on Bridge Street, Key on Friday made final preparations for his mission. With Georgetown now safe, Polly would travel with Taney to join the family in Maryland. Key wrote notes for her to carry to his parents. They show Key to be deeply pessimistic as he undertook his mission, not only about winning Beanes’s freedom, but also the prospects for peace, and his own personal finances. While relieved that Georgetown was spared, Key could not shake his belief that the British assault in the Chesapeake represented divine retribution for an unjust American war.

  “Polly goes up in the morning with Mr. Taney,” he wrote his father. “I cannot go yet, as I have to make a journey to the fleet to try to get Dr. Beanes released from the enemy—I hope I may succeed but I think it very doubtful.”

  To his mother, he apologized for his silence since the battle. “You have made allowances, I hope for our confusion & anxiety here, & have therefore excused my not writing sooner,” he wrote. “Indeed for two or three days after our disgrace I had neither time or mind to do anything. And since then I have been much engaged.” The British, he reported, “have today left Alexandria, & I trust we shall see no more of them. I hope we shall be grateful to God for this deliverance, & remember how much more light our chastisement has been that we expected or deserved.”

  In the morning, he would depart for Baltimore to try to help “Old Dr. Beanes,” he told her. “I hope to return in about 8 or 10 days, though [it] is uncertain, as I do not know where to find the fleet,” he wrote. Upon his return, Key promised, he would join the family. “The children will be delighted to see their mother.—Give my love to them & to Papa.”

  Early the next morning, after parting with Polly and Taney, Key stopped at Mason’s office to pick up papers for the mission. He traveled past the smoldering Capitol to pick up letters written by the British prisoners recuperating at Dr. Ewell’s makeshift hospital. Then he continued to Bladensburg, which remained a grim landscape more than a week after the battle, with bodies found daily under bushes and in gullies. Key picked up more letters from prisoners recuperating in the village, including one addressed to Ross from Colonel Thornton. From Bladensburg, likely traveling by stagecoach, Key continued up the turnpike to Baltimore.

  His mind was heavy with worry. “In these distressing times I really know not what I shall do to provide for the necessities of my family,” he had told his father “There is no hope of peace.”

  POTOMAC RIVER, MORNING, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3

  By Saturday morning Captain John Rodgers was set to attack the departing British squadron. The three fire vessels, ready to burn, launched from the Washington Navy Yard, accompanied by sixty seamen armed with m
uskets in four small cutters and a boat.

  Moving down the Potomac ahead of the rest of the vessels, Rodgers sailed his gig by the Alexandria waterfront and was shocked to see that the city was still not flying the American flag, twenty-four hours after the British departed. Alexandria’s Mayor Simms, worried that the British would return upon finding the river blocked, did not consider the town safe yet. The outraged navy commander maneuvered near the city wharf. “I hailed and ordered the American flag to be hoisted,” he reported to Jones, “otherwise, that I would set fire to the town.” Rodgers crossed out the last words before sending his report, but he made the threat, and meant it. The Alexandrians feared Rodgers more than the British; an American flag was hastily raised, and the captain continued downriver.

  Below Alexandria, a perfect target awaited Rodgers. The bomb ship Devastation had grounded two miles south of the city. Rodgers and his men bore down on the stranded ship, and reaching musket range, the captain ordered his lead fire vessel set ablaze. But the British responded quickly, putting their own boats into the water. The blazing vessel was nearly upon Devastation, but the wind died. A midshipman in one of the British barges coolly caught the burning boat with a grappling hook and towed it harmlessly to shore. British crews similarly warded off the two other fire vessels. By now the British had twenty barges in the water, firing guns and chasing the Americans. Rodgers and his outnumbered men retreated to Alexandria, with the enemy on their tail the whole way. The British fired a few parting shots into the city and returned to their ships.

  Rodgers found Alexandria still in a state of capitulation, with 1,500 pounds of fresh beef on the wharves ready to be delivered to the enemy. “I mention this to show the state, that place was in at the time,” a disgusted Rodgers reported to Jones. With Rodgers in town, there would be no meat delivery to the British. Instead, the captain mounted two twelve-pound carronades on the wharves and placed his sailors along the shore, reinforced by 200 Virginia militia. Alexandria was finally ready to mount a defense.

  CHESAPEAKE BAY, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 3

  Iphigenia, one of the fastest frigates in the British Chesapeake fleet, had been selected to speedily carry the news of Washington’s capture to London. As the ship prepared for its voyage, Vice Admiral Alexander Cochrane put the finishing touches on a letter to the Admiralty reiterating his refusal to attack Baltimore—just yet, anyway—and instead attack Rhode Island. Cochrane intended to return to the Chesapeake by early November, after the weather cooled, and with the hope that more troops would have been sent from Europe. “[I]f the reinforcements arrive I propose an attack upon Baltimore the most democratic town & I believe the richest in the country,” Cochrane wrote.

  After torching Baltimore, Cochrane planned to continue south on a path of destruction, along the Carolinas and Georgia, and ending at New Orleans. His main worry was that the peace negotiations in Ghent might bear fruit before he had a chance to completely crush the Americans. “[I]f peace makers will only stay their proceedings until Jonathan is brought to the feet of G. Britain further wars will be prevented,” he wrote.

  Cochrane had a second concern. He believed General Ross had been far too easy on Washington, and should be told not to show any such mercy to Baltimore. “As this town ought to be laid in ashes, … some hints ought to be given to Genl. Ross as he does not seem inclined to visit the sins committed upon H. Maj’s Canadian subjects upon inhabitants of this state,” Cochrane wrote.

  This he blamed on a certain naïveté on the part of Ross. “When he is better acquainted with the American character he will possibly see as I do that like spaniels they must be treated with great severity before you make them tractable,” Cochrane wrote.

  Ross, for his part, appeared to have accepted Cochrane’s decision to delay the attack on Baltimore, to the relief of his aide, Captain Harry Smith, who argued that it would be too risky. Ross had chosen Smith to carry the army’s dispatches back to Lord Bathurst, the war secretary. Apart from the honor, the selection afforded the young officer a chance to visit his Spanish bride, Juana, whom he had been forced to leave behind when he joined the expedition to America.

  Iphigenia’s departure Saturday from the mouth of Patuxent was delayed a few minutes when a dispatch boat arrived from the Eastern Shore with the shocking news of Sir Peter Parker’s death. Cochrane hastily added a dispatch to London reporting that the headstrong Parker had apparently been “drawn into an attack upon a force which proved to be greatly his superior.” The news seemed to underscore the need for caution before taking on Baltimore.

  Ross accompanied Smith to the gangway of Iphigenia, giving him a bundle of letters to carry to England, including one for his wife. Ross asked Smith to personally deliver that letter to her at the home of the general’s brother, where it had been arranged for Elizabeth to stay after she left Bordeaux.

  “A pleasant voyage, dear Smith … I can ill spare you,” Ross told the young officer. Smith seized the moment to get one last promise from the general.

  “May I assure Lord Bathurst you will not attempt Baltimore?” Smith asked.

  “You may,” said Ross.

  BALTIMORE, MORNING, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

  Francis Scott Key arrived in Baltimore Sunday morning, locating Skinner and sharing with him the instructions and dispatches from Mason. Skinner could not have been particularly happy to learn Key was to accompany him, having just written a letter to Secretary of State Monroe suggesting that only the authorized government agent—and no amateur diplomats—go on such missions.

  “Under existing circumstances when our city is threatened by a powerful force it seems highly impolitic, in my humble judgment, to suffer any intercourse with the enemy except through the most trustworthy agents,” Skinner wrote. The request was in reference to “several French gentlemen” who wanted to go on the next truce mission, but Skinner suggested Monroe issue general instructions that “no person will be allowed … with me on board.”

  Nonetheless, the government clearly wanted Key to accompany him, and Skinner dutifully made final preparations for the mission. Skinner leased a sloop-rigged packet ship belonging to John and Benjamin Ferguson, brothers who had operated a cargo and passenger service between Baltimore and Norfolk until forced to cease by the British blockade. The Fergusons owned about a dozen packets, and which one Skinner leased is uncertain, but it may have been President, a sixty-foot sloop that Skinner had used on other missions. Departure was set for Monday morning.

  Key found Baltimore more of a garrison than a city, filled with troops, cavalry, work details, artillery trains, and supply wagons. Women rolled bandages in makeshift hospitals. Gangs of boys and old men built barracks for the troops, while carpenters hammered together gun platforms.

  Yet Samuel Smith was ever more nervous. Despite the strong defenses on Hampstead Hill protecting the city’s eastern flank, Baltimore remained exposed in other directions, and an attack on an undefended flank would be disastrous. Troops were pouring into the city, but many were arriving without weapons, ammunition, food, or blankets. Moreover, to Smith’s great irritation, most of Rodgers’s naval brigade was still fighting along the Potomac.

  Smith also had to fight the War Department to keep five of the big eighteen-pounder cannons defending Baltimore. The guns belonged to the War Department, which wanted to use them along the Potomac. But Smith cleverly noted that the carriages needed to move the heavy guns belonged to Baltimore. These the city refused to give to the federal government. The guns stayed.

  The War Department did offer Smith assistance he would have preferred to do without. Monroe had sent General Winder back to Baltimore, not wanting him to interfere with military command in Washington. Smith was supposed to assign him duties but had thus far simply ignored him. “I have no order and consequently have no command,” Winder complained to Monroe on Sunday.

  John Armstrong was also in Baltimore, as delusional as Winder about reassuming command. Rather than travel to New York as expected after leaving Washi
ngton, Armstrong lingered in Baltimore, expecting to be recalled to the capital at any moment. Gradually, it dawned on him that the president intended to keep Monroe in charge, and on September 3, Armstrong announced his resignation in an angry letter to the Baltimore Patriot exonerating himself and blaming the militia for the capture of Washington. “[I]f all the troops assembled at Bladensburg had been faithful to themselves and to their country, the enemy would have been beaten and the capital saved,” Armstrong wrote.

  His departure was a relief to the rest of the cabinet. “He is gone and has told his story, which is as destitute of candor as of truth,” Jones wrote.

  Monroe was now serving in two cabinet positions, in addition to his military command overseeing Washington’s defense. In the storm of criticism of Armstrong, Winder, and Madison, Monroe’s role in the disastrous repositioning of troops at Bladensburg had been largely overlooked, to his relief. “I wish nothing to be said about me in the affair,” Monroe wrote his son-in-law George Hay.

  At the moment, most were glad to have Monroe fill the power vacuum. He was a constant, reassuring presence in and around Washington. Monroe visited Porter’s battery on Belvoir Neck to watch the ongoing battle on the Potomac. He slept on a camp bed in his office so he could receive reports arriving at all hours. Monroe called out more militia, assembled supplies, and tried to get better intelligence on British intentions.

  Baltimore was only one of his concerns. The British had assembled a large army in Canada, ready to invade New York State. Monroe was also worried about the threat to the Mississippi and sent a letter to General Andrew Jackson, the commander of American forces in the Southeast, urging him to leave Mobile, Alabama, for New Orleans. As for the British fleet hovering at the mouth of the Patuxent, Monroe believed Philadelphia, Norfolk, and Richmond, as well as Baltimore, were likely targets. “[T]hat it will soon move against some one of those places, cannot well be doubted,” he wrote Sunday. “Desolation is its object.…”