The Shining Sea (24 page)

Considering how important the whaling business was to Britain, the presence of the
Essex
in the eastern Pacific created a great deal of anxiety in London, although the prime minister, Lord Liverpool, would never admit it publicly. But whether he did or did not, the potential of the
Essex
to disrupt Britain's whaling fleet and to simultaneously obtain a distinct advantage for their American competitors was of grave concern. As soon as word of the American intruder reached London in July 1813 (while the
Essex
was in the Galapagos), the Admiralty immediately set out to destroy her, reinforcing Admiral Dixon with eleven additional frigates, including the 38-gun
Targus
(which had specific orders to hunt down the
Essex
) and the 38-gun
Briton
.

Porter for his part was focused on doing maximum damage to the British whalers before any warships could reach him. At the same time, however, he was actively looking to engage an enemy frigate and win a great victory as Hull, Bainbridge, and Decatur had, and by doing so, he was making the Admiralty's task of finding him much easier.

H
OOD
I
SLAND IS THE SOUTHERNMOST OF THE LARGER
G
ALAPAGOS
. On April 17 at seven o'clock in the evening Porter found good anchorage (twelve fathoms of water and a clear, white-sandy bottom) and dropped anchor in what is now Gardner Bay on the island's northwest side. Wood was easily obtained there, and he saw large numbers of wondrous land tortoises, ranging in size from three to four hundred pounds. Whalers were accustomed to capturing these creatures by the dozens, often storing
up to two hundred aboard their ships. These amazing animals were known to remain alive for as long as a year and a half in a ship's hold without being given water or food, and to be every bit as good to eat as when they were first taken; in fact, aging seemed to improve them.

Porter expected to go into action against enemy whalers the minute he arrived. His men were prepared for battle, in fact, panting for it, thinking of the easy prize money waiting to be had. They did not expect any trouble from whalers, armed or not. The crew's health was exceptionally strong, as it had been since the
Essex
left Delaware Bay. Immediately after setting his hook, Porter dispatched Lieutenant Downes in a whaleboat (purchased from Captain Randall of the
Barclay
) with a dozen well-armed men to scout Gardner Bay. If Downes spotted an enemy whaler, he was to signal, and Porter would unleash his attack boats.

An hour passed in silence, as the
Essex
men waited impatiently for a signal. Then another hour passed, and another. No sign came. Downes eventually returned at ten o'clock empty-handed. The crew was, to say the least, disappointed. Porter had been convinced that at least one, and more likely two, enemy vessels were in Gardner Bay. He returned to Chatham Island and lay to for the rest of the night, utterly frustrated.

The following morning, April 18, Porter weighed anchor and sailed west with an easterly wind for Charles (Floreana) Island. It was famous for its post office—a roughhewn stake driven deep into hard sand with a primitive box nailed to it. A weather-beaten black sign was tacked over the box, on which was painted “Hathaway's Post Office.” The box was reputed to be a place where sailors of all nations deposited letters and notices that, they hoped, would eventually be carried home.

Around two in the afternoon, the
Essex
dropped anchor in the harbor at Charles. No other ships were about. Porter sent Downes to the post office, situated near a small beach in the middle of the bay. It rained hard the whole time Downes was pulling for shore. When he finally reached the post office, he found near it articles for distressed seamen—clothes, a tinder box, a barrel of bread, and a cask of water, indicating that little or no water was to be had on the island. The rain simply ran off into the ocean. Downes returned to the
Essex
in three hours with a few papers and some letters confirming that British whalers did indeed frequent these waters.

Porter suspected that finding water would be difficult, if not impossible, on any of the islands, which meant that whalers could not remain for long. He was not expecting to find any humans on Charles or in the entire archipelago. All the islands looked uninhabitable to him. To illustrate just how difficult life was for humans, he recounted a story he had heard of a particular British sailor named Patrick Watkins, an Irishman who deserted his ship and took up residence on Charles. He built a pathetic hut on two acres of ground about a mile from the landing place, where he raised vegetables and exchanged them for rum, or sold them for cash. Watkins's appearance was frightful. He looked like a wild man, and, in fact, he was.

Not long after deserting, Watkins acquired a musket, powder, and ball. Soon after, he captured a few unlucky mariners, whom he used to procure a boat and sail it to Guayaquil in the Viceroyalty of Peru, arriving alone, having killed the others to save the small amount of water aboard. He made his way to Paita, where he hoped to fit in and make a life for himself. Given his appearance, however, the authorities were suspicious the minute they saw him, and the police put him in jail, where he still was when the
Essex
arrived in the Galapagos.

With Watkins's departure, the Galapagos became literally unpopulated. In the succeeding years, that changed. By the time Charles Darwin appeared eighteen years later in HMS
Beagle
to explore the islands, Peruvian merchants had established a tiny, forlorn colony to service whalers.

The difficulty humans found living on the islands gave rise to tales of pirates using them as hideouts and burying treasure. Stories of seamen finding pieces of eight sticking up on sandy beaches were particularly titillating.
Captain Colnett contributed to the legend when he wrote in his
journal that James Island appeared “to be a favorite place of the buccaneers, as we found not only seats, which had been made by them of earth and stone, but a considerable number of broken jars scattered about, and some entirely whole, in which the Peruvian wine and liquors of that country are preserved. We also found some old daggers, nails, and other implements.”

In spite of Colnett's speculations, accounts of buccaneers in the Galapagos were greatly exaggerated.
The golden age of piracy occurred during the early years of the eighteenth century, from 1700 to 1726. Action was
concentrated in the Caribbean, the Bahamas, and the Spanish Main, not in the eastern Pacific. Doubling Cape Horn was simply too difficult for pirates, compared to the easy pickings available in the West Indies.

A
FTER BEING DISAPPOINTED AT
C
HARLES
I
SLAND,
P
ORTER SET
sail with a fine easterly breeze for Albemarle (Isabela), forty-five miles to the northwest. Eighty miles long, with an irregular shape that resembled a giant seahorse, Albemarle was the largest of the Galapagos. Porter was convinced that Banks Bay off the northwestern part of the island—known as the principal rendezvous of whalers—would yield results. Before noon on April 19, the
Essex
drew within eight miles of the big island, at which point the wind died suddenly, and Porter lowered a boat to explore. As he rowed toward shore, the water was alive with seals, exotic birds, lizards with red heads, odd-looking crabs, and other unusual species.

Two hours after leaving the ship he came across an inviting bay, where he landed and saw an amazing sight—myriads of enormous iguanas of the most hideous appearance imaginable. The grotesque creatures were everywhere, taking up large tracts of ground. In places they completely covered the land. The fearsome beasts kept a close eye on the wary, slow-moving visitors. Porter and his party, their guns and clubs handy, inched toward the animals, but they did not stir. Soon the
Essex
men were among them, but found, to their relief, that their fears were groundless. The ferocious-looking monsters turned out to be the most timid creatures. The
Essex
men clubbed several to death, intending to take them back to the ship, where they might have a feast. When eventually they tasted the meat, it turned out to be delicious. Porter thought it was better than the excellent tortoises.

As they rowed back to the ship, Porter saw innumerable rocks covered with seals, penguins, iguanas, and pelicans, and in the water, hundreds of green turtles. Huge, ferocious sharks were around as well, circling the boat, their black fins sticking ominously above the surface. Sharks were not known to attack boats, but these snapped at the oars, while the men thrust boarding pikes at them. One giant bumped hard against the side of Porter's boat, but then disappeared.

Immediately after reaching the
Essex
, Porter hauled in his anchors and explored the coast of Albemarle a bit more. He then sailed to the much
smaller island of Narborough (Fernandina), lying just to the west. The waters between Narborough and Albemarle formed two bays—Banks in the north and Elizabeth in the south. A thirty-five-mile-wide passage connected them. Between March and July these waters attracted huge numbers of whales in search of squid or cuttlefish. Porter was certain he would eventually find whalers here, and he dispatched Downes in a whaleboat to reconnoiter Narborough. As darkness fell, signals flashed continuously from the
Essex
to guide Downes back. He returned at one o'clock in the morning with more depressing news—he had seen nothing.

The
Essex
remained on alert. During the day, seamen and officers manned the yards, searching for prey. Suddenly, on April 23, a cry of “Sail Ho!” electrified everyone. It seemed as if all their hopes were about to be realized. On closer examination, however, the white sails turned out to be objects on shore. The crew became more dejected than ever.

In spite of all the gloom, Porter remained convinced that enemy whalers would soon appear. While waiting, he anchored in Bason cove close to Albermarle in the passage between the two bays, where he found good anchorage and restocked the ship. The men worked hard gathering wood and animals, but they found no water. They did come across an abandoned hut made of stones with no roof. Porter heard later that a marooned English sailor had built the shelter. The poor fellow had been put ashore with nothing but the clothes on his back as punishment for using insulting language to his captain. Being determined and resourceful the sailor built a shelter and survived for a year, eating tortoises and iguanas and other wildlife. He found water dripping down from nearby rocks. When no one came to rescue him, he fashioned a float from seal skins and put out into Banks Bay, hoping a cruising whaler might find him. Sharks circled and bumped against his float, but he kept them off with his paddle. After a harrowing day and night, he happened on an American ship. It was early morning; her crew did not know what to make of the creature that had suddenly appeared alongside. Clothed entirely in seal skin, with a scraggly beard that came down to his chest, an emaciated face, and long, matted hair, the man looked half human and half seal. Fortunately for the marooned sailor, his appearance did not put off the captain, who took him aboard, revived him, and made him a member of his crew.

After restocking the
Essex
, Porter continued exploring the waters around Albemarle. He stopped at one point in an inviting place and set down boats to fish. The men dropped lines, and even without bait, hauled in a large catch. Hooks were no sooner in the water than hundreds of fish came for them. In a short time all their boats were filled with black, red, and yellow grouper, sheepshead, and other varieties they could not identify.

Fishing did not take the crew's mind off British whalers, however. As each barren day passed, morale sank lower. By April 28 patience was running out. The men grew increasingly restless and irritable, thinking they would never find the enemy. Many were convinced that they had been given bad advice. Attitudes changed abruptly, however, when at daybreak on the 29th, the cry of “Sail ho! Sail ho!” rang out from aloft. In a flash all hands were on deck and at their stations. The stranger was a good-sized ship, and Porter sped after her. An hour later he spotted two more vessels in the distance—both large. He was certain they were British whale ships.

With British colors flying, the
Essex
pulled alongside the first vessel at nine in the morning. She was the British whale ship
Montezuma
, under Captain David Baxter, a Nantucket man. Porter invited him on board for a chat in his cabin. Thinking he was on a British frigate, Baxter revealed that the other two ships were armed whalers, the
Georgiana
, carrying six 18-pounders, and the
Policy
, with ten 6-pounders. He also revealed that his ship had 1,400 barrels of sperm oil aboard. The
Montezuma
, which had a British register, belonged to William Rotch's son, Benjamin Rotch, an American from Nantucket, now residing in Milford, England.

While Porter and Baxter talked, Lieutenant Downes moved the
Montezuma
's men to the
Essex
and replaced them with an American officer and crew. Porter then tore after the other two whale ships, both of which had every sail up, trying to escape. They could not shake the
Essex
, however, and she continued to draw closer. The whalers were given a slight reprieve, when, as often happened in these waters, the wind died. The
Essex
was within eight miles. Porter quickly ordered out the small boats for an attack. Haze was growing thicker, however, and he worried that the enemy might yet slip away.

The attack boats were divided into two divisions with Downes in overall command. He was in the lead boat of the first division with Midshipman Farragut. The three other boats of this division were close behind. Lieutenant
McKnight and his men were in the
Essex
's third cutter; sailing master Cowell and crew were in the jolly boat; and Midshipmen George Isaacs and William Feltus with their men were in the second cutter. Lieutenant Wilmer led the second division in the pinnace. Lieutenant Wilson followed with the first cutter, and marine Lieutenant Gamble managed the captain's gig.