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Old Ironsides






"Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky."


In 1833, when the old war ship Constitution, unfit for service, lay
in the navy yard in Charlestown, the Secretary of the Navy decided to
sell her or to break her up. On the appearance of this bit of news in
a Boston paper, Oliver Wendell Holmes, a law student at Harvard,
scribbled some verses and sent them to the editor.

This poem of twenty-four lines was at once published, and was soon
copied into the leading newspapers of the country. In our large
cities, the poem was circulated as a handbill. Popular indignation
rose to a white heat, and swept everything before it.

The order was at once revoked, and Congress decided that the old
frigate, so dear to the hearts of the American people, should be
rebuilt.

Why did the people care so much about "Old Ironsides"?



For twenty-five years after the adoption of the Constitution, we had
a rough road to travel. We were {170} nearly crushed by our foreign
debts, and could do little to defend ourselves on the high seas.
England boarded our ships and carried off our sailors, and France
captured our vessels and stole their cargoes. Even the Barbary
pirates, when they spied the new flag, began to plunder and burn our
merchantmen, and sell their crews into slavery.

In the fall of 1793, eight Algerine pirate craft sailed out into the
Atlantic, and within a month had captured eleven of our ships and
made slaves of more than a hundred of our sailors.

Think of our consul at Lisbon writing home, "Another Algerine pirate
in the Atlantic. God preserve us!"

In behalf of American citizens held as slaves by these pirates, a
petition was sent to Congress. A bill was then passed, allowing
President Washington to build or to buy six frigates.

It was a fortunate day for our nation when the plans of Mr.
Humphreys, a shipbuilder of Philadelphia, were accepted. He was
directed by Congress to prepare the models of six war ships, to be
built in different towns on the coast.

The design of the Constitution was sent to Boston, and her keel was
laid in Hartt's Naval Yard, near what is now Constitution Wharf. The
ideas of Mr. Humphreys were carried out to the letter. The new
frigate was to have better guns, greater speed, greater cruising
capacity,--in fact, was to be a little better {171} in every respect
than the British and the French ships of the same rating.

The Constitution was called a forty-four-gun frigate, although she
actually carried thirty twenty-four-pounders on her main deck, and
twenty-two thirty-two-pounders on her spar deck. She had one gun deck
instead of two, and her cannon were heavier than were usually carried
on foreign war ships of her own class. She was twenty feet longer and
about five feet broader than {172} the far-famed thirty-eight-gun
British frigates. In comparison with a modern war ship, she was less
than one half as long as the armed cruiser New York, and not far from
the size of one of our gunboats.

The British naval officers made much sport of these new ships; but
after "Old Ironsides" had destroyed two fine British frigates, and
had outsailed a large British fleet, they went to work and made over
some of their line of battle ships into large frigates.

The Constitution was built of the best material, and with unusual
care. A Boston shipwright was sent South to select live oak, red
cedar, and hard pine. Paul Revere, who made the famous midnight ride
to Concord, received nearly four thousand dollars for the copper
which he furnished for the new frigate.

From the laying of the keel to the final equipment, the Constitution
was kept in the shipyard fully three years. Her live oak timbers,
having had two years to season, were hard as iron.

After many delays, the stanch ship was set afloat at midday, October
21, 1797, "before a numerous and brilliant collection of citizens."

In 1803, a fleet was sent to the north of Africa, to force the
pirates of the Barbary coast to respect the persons and the property
of American citizens. Commodore Preble was made commander, with the
Constitution as his flagship. He had under him the Philadelphia, a
fine new frigate, and five smaller war ships.

{173} Preble was a remarkable man, and his "schoolboy captains," as
he called them, all under twenty-five years of age, were also
remarkable men.

For two years or more, there was plenty of stubborn fighting. Within
forty days, five attacks were made on the forts and the war ships of
Tripoli. In three of these attacks, the Constitution took part; and
once, while supporting the fleet, she silenced more than a hundred
guns behind the forts of the pirate capital.

Even from the first, the new frigate was lucky. She was never
dismasted, or seriously injured, in battle or by weather. In all her
service, not one commanding officer was ever lost, and few of her
crew were ever killed.

On one occasion, six of our gunboats made a savage hand to hand
attack on twenty-one Tripolitan gunboats, and drove them back into
the harbor with great loss.

"There, Commodore Preble," said young Decatur, as he came over the
side of the Constitution, and walked joyfully up to his commander on
the quarter-deck, "I have brought you out three of the gunboats."

Preble had a kind heart, but a very quick temper. Like a flash, he
seized Decatur by the collar and shook him, shouting, "Aye, sir, why
did you not bring me out more?" and walked into his cabin.

The stern old fighter was over his temper in a moment. He sent for
his young officer, and made ample amends for bad temper and hasty
words. Ever afterwards these two great men were the best of friends.

{174} During the war of 1812, "the war for free trade and sailors'
rights," the Constitution won her chief honors. The story of her
remarkable escape from a British squadron has been often told.

It was at daybreak about the middle of July, 1812, off the New Jersey
coast. Not a breath ruffled the ocean. Captain Isaac Hull, every inch
of him a sailor, was in command. A British fleet of five frigates and
some smaller vessels, which had been sighted the day before, had
crept up during the night, and at daylight almost surrounded "Old
Ironsides."



Hull knew his ship and his men. Not for one moment did he think of
giving up his vessel. Of course he could not fight his powerful foe
with his single ship. He must get away. But how?

One of the British frigates, the Shannon, had furled her sails, and
was being towed by all the boats of the fleet.

"This," said Lieutenant Morris, "seemed to decide our fate."

A moment later, however, a puff of wind carried our frigate out of
gunshot.

"How deep is the water?" shouts Captain Hull.

"Twenty fathoms," is the reply.

"Out with the kedge anchor!" cries Hull.

All the spare ropes and cables are fastened together and payed out to
an anchor, which is dropped into the sea a mile ahead. The sailors on
the frigate go round {175} the windlass on the run, and the vessel is
slowly drawn ahead to the anchor, which is now quickly taken up and
carried out once more. This is called kedging.

Our sailor boys give cheer on cheer as they whirl the windlass and
pull at the oars.

The captain of one of the enemy's frigates now sees the game, and
tries kedging, but does not get near enough to throw a shot.

Three of the pursuing frigates open fire at long range, without doing
any damage.

All day long this pursuit is kept up. Every gun is loaded, ready to
fire. The men rest by the cannon, with their rammers and their
sponges beside them. All the next day the chase goes on. At last,
slowly but surely, the American frigate gains on her pursuers. At
four o'clock in the afternoon, the Shannon is four miles astern.

Two hours later, a squall gave Hull a chance to play a trick on his
pursuers. Sail was shortened the moment the squall struck. The
British captain, seeing the apparent confusion on board the Yankee
frigate, also shortened sail. The moment his vessel was hidden by
{176} the rain, Hull quickly made sail again. When the weather
cleared, his nearest pursuer was far astern.

At daylight the next morning, the British fleet was almost out of
sight, and, after a chase of three nights and two days, gave up the
contest.

Six days later, the good people of Boston went wild with delight, as
their favorite frigate ran the blockade and came to anchor in the
harbor.

Captain Hull was not the man to be shut up in Boston harbor if he
could help it. In less than two weeks he ran the blockade and sailed
out upon the broad ocean. A powerful British fleet was off the coast.
Hull knew it, but out he sailed with his single ship to battle for
his country.

Now the British had a fine frigate named the Guerriere. This vessel
was one of the fleet that had given the Constitution such a hot chase
a few days before. Captain Dacres, her commander, and Captain Hull
were personal friends, and had wagered a hat on the result of a
possible battle between their frigates. The British captain had just
written a challenge to the commander of our fleet, saying that he
should like to meet any frigate of the United States, to have a few
minutes tete-a-tete.

On the afternoon of August 19, about seven hundred miles northeast of
Boston, these two finest frigates in the world, the Guerriere and the
Constitution, met for the "interview" that Dacres so much wanted.

All is hurry and bustle on "Old Ironsides."

{177} "Clear for action!" shrilly sounds the boatswain's whistle.

The fife and drum call to quarters. Everybody hurries to his place.

The British frigate, as if in defiance, flings out a flag from each
topmast. Her big guns flash, but the balls fall short.

"Don't fire until I give the word," orders Captain Hull.

Now the Guerriere, drawing nearer and nearer, pours in a broadside.

"Shall we not fire, sir?" asks Lieutenant Morris.

"Not yet," is Hull's reply.

Another broadside tears through the rigging, wounding several men.
The sailors are restless at their double-shotted guns.

Now the two frigates are fairly abreast, and within pistol shot of
each other.

"Now, boys, do your duty. Fire!" shouts the gallant commander, at the
top of his voice.

Hull is a short and stout man. As he leans over to give the order to
fire, his breeches burst from hip to knee. The men roar with
laughter. There is no time to waste, however, and so he finishes the
battle in his laughable plight.

An officer, pointing to the captain, cries, "Hull her, boys! hull
her!"

The men, catching the play upon words, shout, "Hull her! Yes, we'll
hull her!"

{178} "Old Ironsides" now lets fly a terrible broadside at close
range. The Guerriere's mizzenmast goes overboard.

"My lads, you have made a brig of that craft!" cries Hull.

"Wait a moment, sir, and we'll make her a sloop!" shout back the
sailors.

Sure enough, the Guerriere swings round and gets a raking fire, which
cuts away the foremast and much of the rigging, and leaves her a
helpless hulk in the trough of the sea. The flag goes down with the
rigging, and there is nothing to do but to surrender.

In just thirty minutes, the British frigate is a wreck.

During the hottest part of the battle, a sailor, at least so runs the
story, saw a cannon ball strike the side of the vessel and fall back
into the sea.

"Hurrah, boys! hurrah for 'Old Ironsides'!" he shouted to his mates;
"her sides are made of iron."

Some say that from this incident the nickname of "Old Ironsides" took
its origin.

Captain Hull received his old friend Dacres, kindly, on board the
Constitution, and said, "I see you are wounded, Dacres. Let me help
you."

When the British captain offered his sword, Hull said, "No, Dacres, I
cannot take the sword of a man who knows so well how to use it, but I
will thank you for that hat!"



Just as they were ready to blow up the Guerriere, Dacres remembered
that a Bible, his wife's gift, which {179} he had carried with him
for years, had been left behind. Captain Hull at once sent a boat
after it.

Twenty-five years after this incident, Captain Dacres, then an
admiral, gave Hull a dinner on his flagship, at Gibraltar, and told
the ladies the story of his wife's Bible.

When "Old Ironsides" came sailing up the harbor, on the last day of
August, what a rousing reception the people of Boston gave Captain
Hull and his gallant men!

All the people of the town crowded the wharves or filled the windows
and the housetops overlooking the bay. The streets were gay with
bunting, and there was a grand dinner, with many patriotic speeches
and deafening cheers.

In less than five months after her battle with the Guerriere, the
Constitution had her hardest fight. It was with the Java, one of the
best frigates in the British navy. Her commander, Captain Lambert,
was said to be {180} one of the ablest sailors that ever handled a
war ship. The battle took place some thirty miles off the northeast
coast of Brazil.

The Constitution was commanded by Captain William Bainbridge. Before
this, he had done some feats of seamanship, but thus far in his
career he had not been fortunate. As you remember, Captain
Bainbridge, through no fault of his own, lost the Philadelphia off
the harbor of Tripoli.

The battle began about two o'clock in the afternoon, with broadsides
from both frigates.

Bainbridge was soon wounded in the hip by a musket ball; then the
wheel was shattered, and a small copper bolt was driven into his
thigh. Unwilling to leave the deck a moment, he had his wounds
dressed while directing the battle.

Finding that he could not get near enough to the swift British
frigate, Bainbridge boldly headed for the enemy. There was great risk
of getting raked, but fortunately the Java's shots went wild.



"Old Ironsides" was now within close range of the Java, and the fire
of her heavy cannon soon left the British frigate dismasted and
helpless. The British did not surrender, however, until every stick
in the ship except a part of the mainmast had been cut away.

Captain Lambert was mortally injured, his first lieutenant severely
hurt, and nearly fifty men were killed and more than one hundred
wounded. "Old Ironsides" came out of the battle with every spar in
place.

{181} The wheel of the Java was removed and fitted on the
Constitution, to replace the one which had been shot away.

A few years after the war, some British naval officers paid a visit
to "Old Ironsides."

"You have a most perfect vessel," said one of them, "but I must say
that you have a very ugly wheel for so beautiful a frigate."

"Yes," said the American captain to whom the remark was made, "it is
ugly. We lost our wheel in fighting the Java, and after the battle we
replaced it with her wheel, and somehow we have never felt like
changing it."

{182} Bainbridge was a great-hearted and heroic man. When he was told
that Captain Lambert was mortally injured, he forgot his own wounds
and had his men carry him to the blood-stained quarter-deck, where
the British officer lay. He then put into the dying man's hand the
sword he had just surrendered.

On Captain Bainbridge's return to Boston, another long procession
marched up State Street, and another grand dinner was given. When he
traveled by coach to Washington, the people along the route turned
out in great crowds to honor the naval hero.

The Constitution fought her last battle off the Madeira Islands, on
February 20, 1815, under the command of Captain Charles Stewart, one
of the hardest fighters in the history of our navy.

"What shall I bring you for a present?" said Captain Stewart to his
bride.

"A British frigate," promptly replied the patriotic young wife.

"I will bring you two," answered Stewart.

On the afternoon of February 20, two British men-of-war hove in
sight. They proved to be the frigate Cyane and the sloop of war
Levant.

"Old Ironsides" made all sail to overhaul them.

Stewart's superb seamanship in this sharp battle has excited the
admiration of naval experts, even to our own day. It is generally
admitted that no American ship was ever better handled. He raked one
vessel and then {183} the other, repeatedly. Neither of the enemy's
war ships got in a single broadside.

Just forty minutes after Stewart's first fire, the Cyane surrendered.
A full moon then rose in all its splendor, and the battle went
stoutly on with the Levant. At ten o'clock, however, she, too,
perfectly helpless, struck her colors.

"Old Ironsides'" last great battle was over. Singlehanded, she had
fought two British war ships at one time and defeated them, and that,
too, with only three men killed and twelve wounded. In less than
three hours our stanch frigate was again in fighting trim.

With the exception of long periods of rest, "Old Ironsides" carried
her country's flag with dignity and honor for forty years.

Her cruising days ended just before the outburst of the Civil War, in
1861, when she was taken to Newport, Rhode Island, to serve as a
school-ship for the Naval Academy. Later, she was housed over, and
used as a receiving ship at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. In the fall of
1897, she was towed to the navy yard at Charlestown, to take part in
her centennial celebration, October 21, 1897.

The old Constitution has been rebuilt in parts, and repaired many
times; so that little remains of the original vessel except her keel
and her floor frames. These huge pieces of her framework, hewn by
hand from solid oak, are the same that thrilled with the shock of the
old guns, {184} before the granite forts of Tripoli. Over them
floated the American flag and the pennants of Preble, Hull,
Bainbridge, Decatur, Stewart, and many other gallant men, whose
heroic deeds have shed luster on the American navy.

It is interesting to know that Commodore Stewart was the last
survivor of the great captains of the war of 1812. He served his
country faithfully for seventy-one years, and lived to be ninety-one.
He died at his home, called "Old Ironsides," in New Jersey, in 1869.

The loss of a few frigates did not matter much to England, but the
loss of her naval prestige in the war of 1812 was of importance to
the whole world. For the first time, Europe realized that there was a
new nation, which was able and willing to fight for its freedom on
the ocean, as it had fought for its independence on land.

"Old Ironsides" still survives, a weather-beaten and battle-scarred
hull, but a precious memorial of the nation's glory. She has earned a
lasting place in the affections of the American people.





Next: Old Hickory's Christmas

Previous: A Daring Exploit



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