The Shining Sea (40 page)

In trying to extricate himself from a potentially disastrous situation, Hillyar luffed up so as to cause the
Phoebe
to take aback, but in so doing, her jib-boom swept across the
Essex
's forecastle. Porter shouted to all hands to be alert, ready to board if the hulls touched. “At this moment,” Porter recalled, “not a gun from the
Phoebe
could be brought to bear on either the
Essex
or
Essex Junior
, while her bow was exposed to the raking fire of the one, and her stern to that of the other. Her consort . . . was too far off to leeward to afford any assistance.”

“The
Phoebe
was . . . completely at my mercy,” Porter wrote. “I could have destroyed her in fifteen minutes.” He wasn't exaggerating; he could
have poured two or three raking broadsides into her, tearing her guts out from stem to stern, with no trouble. Powder monkeys held slow matches by the guns. Had Porter given the order, and the
Essex
let go her rounds, her massed boarders could have easily overwhelmed Hillyar.

But the
Phoebe
never touched the
Essex
, and Porter—choosing to observe the rules of neutrality—never fired on him, letting Hillyar off the hook. Oddly, Porter allowed himself to be disarmed by Hillyar's assurances, even though Hillyar's record was well known to Porter. Nonetheless, he allowed the
Phoebe
to extricate herself and move to a less vulnerable position, which Hillyar proceeded to do. He anchored about a half mile astern, beyond the reach of Porter's carronades, but within range of the
Phoebe
's long 18-pounders.

As soon as the
Phoebe
was in place, Captain Tucker brought the
Cherub
to anchor within pistol shot of the
Essex
. Whereupon, Porter ordered
Essex Junior
to take up a position that placed the
Cherub
between the fire of the two American ships. He wasn't taking any chances.

Porter insisted that respect for Chilean neutrality was his guiding principle. He would never attack Hillyar in the port. If the
Phoebe
had made the first move, he would have been obliged to retaliate, but he would not initiate the action under any circumstances. He liked to point out that since the
Essex
was the inferior ship in point of firepower, his government would not countenance him looking for a fight, but if one came his way, he would eagerly grasp it. Not only would he jump at the opportunity, but the chance of a battle was the reason he had returned to Valparaiso in the first place. He did not need to be there. No military purpose was being served. He was there to have a fight. He might not initiate an engagement, but he would do everything he could to provoke one.

On the following morning, Hillyar noticed that the
Essex
was flying a large banner emblazoned with the words “FREE TRADE AND SAILORS RIGHTS.” The message stuck in his craw. He saw it as an “insidious effort to shake the loyalty of thoughtless British seamen.” Like most of Britain's upper classes, Hillyar blamed the massive desertions from British warships on American shenanigans, rather than on the tyrannical practices of officers aboard their own men-of-war. With his ire up, Hillyar hoisted an ensign declaring “GOD AND COUNTRY; BRITISH SAILORS BEST RIGHTS; TRAITORS OFFEND BOTH.” On seeing this, the
Essex
men
swarmed over their rigging and gave a full-throated jeer. Hillyar's crew responded in kind, after which, his little band played “God Save the King.” Porter replied with another banner, bearing the motto “GOD, OUR COUNTRY, AND LIBERTY—TYRANTS OFFEND BOTH.” This tit-for-tat went on the entire time the two ships were anchored close to each other. The hoisting of rival banners was followed by insults shouted across the water. Songs, and even poetry, were employed to abuse each other, as well as small flags carrying pointed inscriptions.

There was another side to this relationship, however, and it softened the rivalry. On the same day the battle of the banners began, February 9, Captains Hillyar and Tucker paid a visit to Porter at the home of Mr. Blanco, the American deputy vice consul in Valparaiso, where Porter usually stayed while on shore. The meeting went well, and others followed. “A friendly intimacy [was] established,” Porter reported, “not only between the commanders . . . but the officers and boats' crews of the respective ships. No one, to have judged from appearances, would have supposed us to have been at war, our conduct toward each other bore so much the appearance of a friendly alliance.” During their first meeting, Porter asked Hillyar if he intended to respect the neutrality of the port, and Hillyar replied in convincing fashion, “
You
have paid so much respect to the neutrality of the port, that I feel myself bound in honor to respect it.” Porter was satisfied that Hillyar meant what he said.

During their later meetings, Porter made it clear that he wanted a one-on-one duel between the
Essex
and the
Phoebe
, in effect, asking Hillyar to give up his advantages. But Hillyar had no reason to. His responsibility was to remove the
Essex
as a menace to Britain's whalers and commerce. He was a forty-four-year-old veteran who had won enough laurels to feel secure about his reputation. He did not need another victory to prove himself. The Admiralty would judge him on whether or not he got rid of the
Essex
, not on how he did it. His orders from Admiral Dixon required him to destroy a menace to British interests, not to engage in a one-on-one frigate duel. Dixon would not quibble about Hillyar's methods, nor would the Admiralty. But they certainly would if Hillyar relinquished his advantages in order to accommodate Porter. And, of course, if he lost a single-ship duel under these circumstances, he would be subject to severe penalties.

Hillyar could afford to wait. He already had a superior force, and more frigates were on the way. In fact, the Admiralty had already dispatched the powerful 38-gun frigates
Briton
(Sir Thomas Staines) and
Targus
(Captain Philip Pipon) to destroy the
Essex
. To be sure, the
Phoebe
was more powerful on paper than the
Essex
and could take her on with a reasonable chance of success, but naval actions turn on many variables—a lucky shot cracking a vital mast or spar, a cannonball smashing the steering—any number of things could even the odds in the
Essex
's favor. So Hillyar had every reason to bide his time and blockade
Essex
and
Essex Junior
until he judged he had an overwhelming advantage.

The
Phoebe
and the
Cherub
remained close by
Essex
and
Essex Junior
until their provisioning was complete on February 14. The following day they pulled their hooks, sailed out of the harbor, and began patrolling off Valparaiso Bay, staying to windward, close to the Point of Angels.

Porter for his part continued trying to provoke a single-ship duel. On the afternoon of February 26, when the sea was calm, he towed one of his prizes, the
Hector,
out to sea, hoping the
Phoebe
alone would chase him. Instead, both British ships came after him, standing toward the bay while he was coming out. Not wanting to get far beyond the protection of the neutral harbor, Porter burned the
Hector
and retreated. The British ships continued after him, but he managed to get safely back to his former anchorage.

The following afternoon, February 27, Hillyar tried to turn the tables and lure Porter into uneven combat. He steered the
Phoebe
into the harbor alone—much to Porter's surprise and delight, leaving the
Cherub
to leeward. At five o'clock Hillyar hove to a short distance from the
Essex
, shortened sail, fired a gun to windward, and hoisted a familiar ensign: “GOD AND COUNTRY; BRITISH SAILORS BEST RIGHTS; TRAITORS OFFEND BOTH.”

Believing this to be a challenge for the single-ship duel he yearned for, Porter hoisted his own pennant: “GOD, OUR COUNTRY, AND LIBERTY—TYRANTS OFFEND THEM.” At the same time he ordered sixty men from
Essex Junior
to join the
Essex
crew, making her numbers 315—more equal to the
Phoebe
's 320. Porter then fired a gun and got underway, anticipating a deadly fight. In response, the
Phoebe
stood out of the harbor to give the combatants some fighting room—or so Porter
thought. He followed, getting closer to her as he went. Suddenly, to Porter's complete surprise, the
Phoebe
bore up before the wind and ran down for her consort.

It was a sensible maneuver, designed to capture the
Essex
at the least possible risk. But Porter was indignant, feeling he had been cheated out of what he most wanted. He fired two guns at the
Phoebe
in a vain effort to bring her to. When that failed, he hauled his wind, and returned to the protection of the port. The
Phoebe
, in company with the
Cherub
, came after him. They entered the harbor, but did not commence an attack. Porter assumed it was because Hillyar respected the neutrality of the port.

Hillyar sent his chivalrous first lieutenant, William Ingram, to the
Essex
under a flag of truce to explain that Captain Hillyar had not issued a challenge. Firing a gun and hoisting a flag, Ingram said, was intended merely as a signal to the
Cherub
. Porter did not believe him. He accused Hillyar of being “cowardly and dishonorable.”

During this set-to, the
Phoebe
showed herself once again to be a slow sailor. The
Essex
was obviously the faster ship, and that speed could make a big difference in a one-on-one fight. It could also allow Porter to escape, if it came to that.

Some days later, Porter decided he would make a night attack on the
Phoebe
using the small boats he had employed so successfully in the Galapagos Islands. Given the constant training his men had received in hand-to-hand combat, he was confident they were superior to any British crew, which was probably true. On the night of March 12, all the
Essex
's boats were filled with armed men, and with muffled oars, they rowed toward the
Phoebe
. Porter was in the lead boat with Farragut. They pulled close enough to hear conversation on the forecastle, which led Porter to believe that Hillyar was waiting for him, whereupon he aborted the mission and rowed back to the harbor.

In fact, Hillyar was unaware of Porter's presence, and the
Essex
men got back to their ship without difficulty. Porter never mentioned the incident in any letter or in his journal. David Farragut gave the details much later. Porter was evidently too embarrassed to mention the non-event. He must have realized later that he had taken Hillyar by surprise after all, and had retreated when he did not have to. Hillyar was informed of what happened sometime later.

On March 14, Porter began a paper war with Hillyar, hoping to prod him into abandoning his caution. He accused Hillyar of trying to encourage men on the
Essex
to desert. Hillyar denied doing so, although, of course, he would welcome any American seaman who left his ship. That Porter thought his transparent gambit would succeed with Hillyar is a tribute to his inflamed imagination.

At length, Porter concluded that Hillyar was never going to fight him one-on-one, and he looked for an opportunity to escape. His sense of urgency increased when word arrived overland from Buenos Aires that the 38-gun
Targus
was on the way, and possibly two other frigates, along with the
Racoon
—back from the Columbia River. In fact, the
Targus
arrived off Valparaiso on April 13.

Porter planned to race out to sea and draw the
Phoebe
and the
Cherub
after him, giving
Essex Junior
a chance to sortie safely out of the harbor. Porter could then rely on his speed to get away. If all went well, he and Downes would rendezvous later. It was a workable plan.

An opportunity arose on March 28. At daylight, winds were light, and Porter had the ship ready for an escape. He had determined from a report by Lieutenant Maury that
Phoebe
and
Cherub
, which were usually stationed to the weather point, or western side of Valparaiso Bay, would be more to leeward, giving Porter an excellent chance to get to windward of them and break free close hauled. Meanwhile
Essex Junior
could slip out to leeward when the two British ships inevitably hauled their wind and chased the
Essex
.

All Porter needed was a stronger breeze, and at noon the wind, which was from the south southwest, freshened before increasing to a strong gale. It blew over the hills and through the ravines in back of the harbor, stirring the bay waters to a frenzy and rocking the shipping. Porter ordered the royals and their masts taken down, and then, at 2:45, the
Essex
suddenly parted her larboard cable, causing her to drag the starboard anchor leeward. Conditions now seemed ideal to go forward with the escape Porter had been planning. He hailed
Essex Junior
to send a boat to take Joel Poinsett, who often was aboard, ashore. Immediately after Poinsett departed, Porter ordered the starboard anchor cable cut, and he was on his way.

At that moment,
Phoebe
and
Cherub
were standing in for the protection of the harbor, providing Porter with an opportunity of getting to windward of them. He took in the topgallant sails, which were set over single-reefed
topsails, and stood close hauled for the Point of Angels at the western end of Valparaiso Bay. His chances of breaking free looked excellent. But, as luck would have it, on luffing round the point, a heavy squall suddenly struck the ship. The topsail halyards were let go, but the yards jammed and would not come down. When the ship was nearly gunwale to, the main topmast went by the board, carrying the men on the topgallant yard, Samuel Miller and Thomas Browne (both superb topmen), into the sea, where they drowned.