New Jersey claims the honor of being the birthplace of Captain James Lawrence, at one time the idol of the naval service. Captain Lawrence was born at Burlington, being the youngest son of John Lawrence, Esq. Although at the age of twelve he manifested a desire to become a sailor, his wish was not gratified until five years later, when, abandoning the study of law, he took up that of navigation, and received a warrant as midshipman on the 4th of September, 1798.

He made one voyage on the ship Ganges, under Captain Tingey, and after two years of cruising in various vessels he was made an acting lieutenant on board the frigate Adams, where he continued until the reduction of the naval force began, and then, his appointment not being confirmed, he once more found himself a midshipman.

Lawrence, like many a good officer, appeared to be continually at loggerheads with the department at Washington. He objected to this first reduction, and in 1801 his objection was sustained, and he sailed to the Mediterranean as first lieutenant of the schooner Enterprise in 1803. All through the war with Tripoli he conducted himself with such bravery as to bring commendation from all his superiors. As an example of his spirit and fearlessness an incident is well worth quoting. After he had returned with Commodore Preble he was not allowed to rest long in idleness; again he was sent to the Mediterranean, for what reason it would be hard to state; he was hastened away in command of one of the foolishly constructed gunboats that did not even rejoice in the dignity of possessing a name, being merely known on the register as “No. 6.” None of these vessels was qualified to take to the sea. They were built on the model of great rowboats, and wallowed and tossed and pitched, and behaved in every way that a vessel ought not to when under sail. The one big gun they carried amidships on deck rendered them top-heavy, and, as some one wrote at the time, “the leeway they gathered discounted the log.” But Lawrence grimly accepted the duty assigned to him, and set out at once. A few months afterwards one of his brother officers wrote in a letter to a relation in the army, saying, “Lawrence has told me that when he went on board the gunboat he had not the faintest idea that he would ever arrive out to the Mediterranean in her, or indeed arrive anywhere else. He also told me that on the coast of Europe he met an English frigate, the captain of which would not at first believe that he had crossed the Atlantic in such a vessel.”

But he crossed safely, however, and cruised about in his cockle-shell for some sixteen months. Immediately after his return Lawrence was made first lieutenant of the frigate Constitution; then transferred to the schooner Vixen, of which he was given the command; whence he went to the brig Argus, and at last to the sloop Hornet. Twice he was sent to Europe in the latter with despatches to our ministers. Upon the outbreak of the war Lawrence was yet in command of the Hornet, which was one of the squadron of five sail that set out under Commodore Rodgers in the unsuccessful attempt to intercept the Jamaica fleet.

Much upset in his mind by the promotion of a junior officer over his head, only Lawrence’s patriotism and loyalty prevented him from resigning from the service. The Senate restored him to his proper number on the list, however, and he sailed with Commodore Bainbridge in the cruise to the south, from which he returned soon after the capture of the Peacock.

In all history it is customary to count the incidents of unsuccessful but heroic resistance to the honor and glory of the nation. The historians of Great Britain in all their works rightly take this stand in detailing the actions between their vessels and those of the little navy of the United States. There is on record in our annals the story of an unsuccessful engagement that cannot but reflect credit on our naval officers and our flag.

Jack Tars are more superstitious than any other class of men. They fear Friday, and are on the constant lookout for omens and portents. Give a ship an unlucky name and it counts against her in securing a good crew. The Chesapeake was an unlucky vessel. On the 22d of June, 1807, manned by a green crew under the command of Commodore Barron, she had left Hampton Roads. This was during the time that England was employing her assumed “Right of Search,” that led to the struggle five years later.

Taken at a disadvantage, she was humiliated by being compelled to lower her flag to H. M. S. Leopard, after the latter had poured in several destructive broadsides without return. The Chesapeake had three men killed and eighteen wounded, and her commander was forced to submit to the kidnapping of four alleged deserters from his crew. The vessel had proved herself a slow sailer, and had accomplished nothing in her cruises. In March, 1813, she was lying in Boston Harbor, her complement of men not filled and her armament incomplete.

Captain Lawrence, fearing that he might be appointed to her, applied for the command of the Constitution.

High-spirited and sensitive, he had taken offence at the manner in which his request was received. The Secretary of the Navy entailed the condition that if neither Captain Porter nor Captain Evans applied for the command of “Old Ironsides,” Lawrence could have her. Objecting to this treatment, he was given the appointment unconditionally; but the next day, to his chagrin, he received a recall of the order, and, after some vexations, counter-instructions to take command of the Chesapeake, then lying in Boston Roads. Lawrence was prejudiced against this ship, and disgruntled at his peculiar treatment; but to his respectful remonstrances the Secretary of the Navy vouchsafed no reply, and the gallant officer pocketed his pride and went on board his unfortunate command.

British vessels of war were a common sight from any hill along the New England coast. Outfitting at Halifax, they hovered about, and were in constant communication with one another, the smaller vessels seldom straying far from their towering guard-ships.

While Lawrence was endeavoring to teach the green crew of the Chesapeake something of discipline and man-of-war customs, a strange sail boldly made in to the entrance of Boston Roads.

She tacked about, flying signals of defiance. It was the Shannon (38), a prime vessel, magnificently equipped for the express purpose of meeting a Yankee frigate. She had an unusually numerous crew of picked men, thoroughly disciplined and well officered. She was commanded by Captain Broke, a fearless and able officer, one of the best in the service of Great Britain—a man who feared no danger, and fought with desire to gain reputation and glory. He had dismissed the Tenedos, line-of-battle ship, and wished to fight alone.

In Low’s Great Battles of the British Navy the author speaks of Captain Broke sending a formal challenge to the captain of the Chesapeake to come out and meet “ship to ship, to try the fortunes of our respective flags.” The English writer adds that “the redoubtable Captain Lawrence was not backward in accepting the challenge.”

This challenge, a model of the stilted courtesy and frank gallantry of the day, was never received by the American commander, despite the statement. It might have made some difference, for it told the number of men, guns, and armament.

To Captain Broke’s honor be it said that he sought no favor and he had no fear. An American publication speaks in the following words: “It is to be deeply regretted that Captain Lawrence did not receive this gallant challenge, as it would have given him time to put his ship in proper order, and spared him the necessity of hurrying out in his unprepared condition to so formidable and momentous an encounter.”

The English exploited in verse and song the victory they had gained. A series of paintings and engravings representing different phases of the engagement was designed by Captain R. H. King, R.N., and painted by Schetky, and dedicated to Captain Sir Philip Bowes Vere Broke, Bart., R.N., K.C.B. The King, on hearing the news of the capture, is reported to have clapped his hands.

That Lawrence fought the action contrary to his own judgment, and was not sanguine of victory, is shown by a letter in his own hand, written on board the Chesapeake, and sent off by the pilot; for the American vessel, as she left the harbor, was surrounded by a fleet of small craft, which came out to see the action. This letter is addressed, “James Cox, Esq., Merchant, New York.”

The following is a copy of the letter, the original of which is now in the possession of the author:

June 1st.

“Dear James,—By the enclosed you will perceive that Bainbridge and myself have had a serious difference. It is in a measure, however, done away, in consequence of an explanation had last evening. You will pay him one and one-half twentieths of my prize-money, and demand the same resulting from the capture of the Java.... An English frigate is close in with the light-house, and we are now clearing ship for action.

“Should I be so unfortunate as to be taken off, I leave my wife and children to your care, and feel confident that you will behave to them the same as if they were your own. Remember me affectionately to our good mother, and believe me,

“Sincerely yours,
“James Lawrence.

“P. S.—10 A.M. The frigate is plain in sight from our decks, and we are now getting under way.”

Trouble soon came; the crew, that had never sailed under Lawrence before, acted in a listless, half-hearted manner. A villanous boatswain’s mate, a Portuguese, showed signs of mutinous conduct; for immediately after the Chesapeake was under way, and Lawrence had addressed a few words to the crew assembled in the waist, this scoundrel replied in an insolent manner, complaining that he had not received prize-money which had been due, he claimed, for some time past. It was impossible, in view of the fact that he was entirely unacquainted with the characters of his crew, for Captain Lawrence to notice this conduct in the manner it deserved. He had had no time to gain their affections or obtain influence through his personality.

Imagine the scene! With the enemy waiting in the offing, the disaffected ones were taken to the cabin and there paid the money that they claimed was owing them. As Lawrence looked about, he longed for the Yankee tars that had served under him in the Hornet and that he had hoped to command in the Constitution. His heart must have failed him.

Up went the flag. The English had learned to read without the glass, “Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights,” the motto painted on it.

As the Chesapeake approached, the English vessel hauled off shore.

It was a beautiful summer day. The water was rippled, and there was little or no swell. It was a day for target practice. The small craft either held back or had been left behind as the two combatants, sailing in silence, drew away from shore.

At 4 P.M. the Chesapeake fired a gun. The Shannon braced back her main-topsail and hove to. The smoke from the first shot had cleared away, and the vessels manoeuvred for some minutes to gain the advantage.

Lawrence must have seen that it would have been better had he listened to the counsels of Bainbridge and others, who had advised him not to seek a meeting just at that time. It was evident that the Shannon was the better sailer. Several times the newly rove running-gear of the Chesapeake jammed in the blocks. Her crew were confused, and the men did not know their numbers at the guns. All exertions were made, however; but, after having been for some time within pistol-shot, broadsides were fired with tremendous execution. The first broadside that the Chesapeake received was a catastrophe in itself; the double-shotted guns of the enemy tore great breaks in her bulwarks, and officers who had occupied positions of great danger fell in every part of the ship. The first shot killed Mr. White, the sailing-master. The fourth lieutenant, Mr. Ballard, received a mortal wound; and at this same moment Captain Lawrence was shot through the leg by a musket-ball from the Shannon’s tops. He made no outcry, but, leaning against the companion-way for support, continued to give his orders in a cool, firm voice. The ships were now so close that the powder smoke blackened their white streaks, and three broadsides were exchanged in quick succession that were frightful in their results.

The English had placed expert riflemen in their tops, and three men were shot successively from the Chesapeake’s wheel. The American ship fell off from her proper course, and the Shannon veering close, her after-port was caught by the Chesapeake’s anchor. The ill-luck of the latter vessel had followed her. For some time she could not bring a gun to bear, while the Englishman from his foremost guns raked her upper decks, killing and wounding the greater portion of the men there.

It had been for a long time a superstition with our cousins across the water that naught could resist the onslaught of an English boarding party. An exception, however, has been made in favor of the “damned Yankees” by a well-known English writer.

Seeing that the spar-deck of the Chesapeake was devoid of defenders, a party of the Shannon’s men took advantage of a favorable chance, and, without waiting for orders, jumped on the American’s deck. Captain Lawrence, still leaning heavily against the rail, and weak from loss of blood, had scarcely time to call his boarders to repel the attack when he received a second wound, from a bullet, in the abdomen. He fell into the arms of Lieutenant Cox, who commanded the second division, and was hurrying up from below. At this moment Captain Broke, of the Shannon, bravely headed a second boarding party, and sprang over the railing of the Chesapeake. Lawrence saw the danger as he struggled, with Cox’s help, to rise from the deck.

“Don’t give up the ship! don’t give up the ship!” he said, and repeated it over and over as they carried him down the companion-way.

A hand-to-hand struggle now ensued. The only American officer remaining on the upper deck was Lieutenant Ludlow. He was so weakened and disabled by numerous wounds that he was incapable of personal resistance, and the small number of British succeeded in obtaining possession before those from below could swarm up to the defence.

An account gathered from an officer after the surrender speaks as follows:

“We were greatly embarrassed in consequence of being unacquainted with our crew. In one instance, in particular, Lieutenant Cox joined a party of the enemy through mistake, and was made sensible of his error by their slashing at him with their cutlasses.”

Lawrence, lying below in the wardroom, suffering agony, heard the firing cease, and, having no officer near him, he ordered the surgeon who was attending his wound to hasten on deck and tell his followers to fight on to the last, and never strike the colors, adding:

“They shall wave while I live.”

But nothing could be done. A ship without a captain is a man without a soul. The fate of battle was decided. It was mere waste of life to continue, and Lieutenant Ludlow gave up the Chesapeake.

There was the utmost confusion during the latter part of the battle, but accounts differ in regard to the details. A hot-headed boy fired at an English sentry placed at a gangway, and started an action that resulted in Lieutenant Ludlow receiving a cutlass wound in the head which fractured his skull and proved fatal. An English authority, in speaking of the hauling down of the stars and stripes, recalls that Lieutenant Wall, one of their own officers, was killed, and four or five men fell, from a volley delivered by their own people from the tops of the Shannon, “for in the hurry and excitement the Yankee flag was hoisted uppermost.”

Thus terminated one of the most remarkable combats on naval record. The action had lasted over a quarter of an hour. There is little use in surmising what might have occurred had not the ships run foul of each other.

The Chesapeake had received little injury to affect her safety, while the Shannon had several shots between wind and water, and could not have sustained an action at gunshot distance for any great length of time.

The two ships presented terrible spectacles, says a witness. “Crowded with wounded and the dying, they resembled floating hospitals, sending forth groans at every roll.”

The brave Broke had received a severe wound in the head, and was lying delirious on board of his own vessel. He constantly inquired for the fate of his gallant adversary, and kept speaking of the “masterly style” in which the latter had brought the Chesapeake into action.

Lawrence, though conscious, sealed his lips and never spoke, though suffering great bodily pain, making no comment upon the battle. He lingered four days, and finally expired.

His body was wrapped in the colors of his ship and laid upon the quarter-deck of the Chesapeake, to be conveyed for burial to Halifax. At the time of his death he was but thirty-two years of age, sixteen years of which had been passed in the service of his country.

Great were the rejoicings at the British port when the two vessels sailed in, and our hearts cannot fail to be touched by the honors paid on this occasion by the British to the departed American hero.

His pall was borne by the oldest captains in the British service that were then in Halifax, and the naval officers crowded to yield the last honors to a man who had been so lately their foe. There is a sympathy between lofty souls that knows no distinction of clime or nation.

As usual, much controversy over the numbers engaged and the weight of armament was aroused.

So far as can be learned, the crews were nearly matched, each numbering about four hundred.

The Shannon lost twenty-four killed, including three officers, and fifty wounded. The Chesapeake, forty-seven killed and ninety-nine wounded.

Lawrence’s first lieutenant was killed, and all the surviving lieutenants wounded, as were also five midshipmen and the chaplain.

Lieutenant William Cox, whose court-martial attracted much attention after the investigation into the loss of the Chesapeake, was doubtless a victim of the chagrin that the country felt at England’s victory. Cox had fought bravely throughout the early part of the action, and there is much to prove that his going below with the wounded Lawrence was in compliance with the latter’s orders.

Lieutenant Provo Wallis, who brought the Chesapeake as a prize into Halifax, died within the last few years, an admiral, the oldest naval officer then living in the service of Great Britain.