FAMOUS

SHIPS

HMS MACEDONIAN was a lively-class 5^th rate.  She was 154 feet long, 39.4 feet breadth, 13.5 feet depth with a tonnage of 1,082.  The ship had a compliment of 362 men with an armament of 14 X 32 pounders, 28 X 18 pounders and 4 nine pounders.  The ship was designed by Sir William Rule and built in the Woolwich Dockyard, England in 1810.   

Unfortunately for the British, the main claim for the HMS MACEDONIAN in history is the fact that she was not only captured by the USS UNITED STATES but also has the distinction of being the only British warship that also returned to an American port during the War of 1812. 

On October 25, 1812, she encountered Captain Stephen Decatur’s larger and more powerful USS UNITED STATES (44 guns) about 500 miles south of the Azores.  HMS MACEDONIAN was under the command of Captain John Carden.  HMS MACEDONIAN boar down to the attack in a heedless and confident manner, at which point the USS UNITED STATES opened fire from her long 24’s; almost every shot which struck the hull or masts of the attacking ship.   

HMS MACEDONIAN closed and hauled-up to fire her broadside. The American frigate bore-away a little, to retain the advantage of her superior skill in gunnery and put at a disadvantage the 32 pounder carronades of the British ship.  The action was continued in this fashion until about ten o’clock.  It was then observed that most if not all of the 32 pound carronades on the USS MADEDONIAN’S engaged side had been disabled.  The USS UNITED STATES then closed and used her full broadside to reduce the British ship to a complete wreck.  By noon, the British ship, shattered in both hull and crew, surrendered.  There were 104 dead and wounded on the British side (6 Americans died and 6 were injured.) 

It would be interesting to point out the disparity if broadside weight of metal between the two ships during this battle.  The following table is presented:

The only comment with respect to the above disparity in the power of the broadside of the two respective ships is that the difference must have been that much greater when you consider that the 32 pound carronades had become disabled after only about one hour into the battle.  The tenacity of the British crew to continue the one-sided fight is obvious. 

Two weeks were spent repairing the ship in the mid-Atlantic and then the two ships went to New York, were they arrived in December.  She was purchased by the US government and commissioned as the USS MACEDONIAN.  She did little else during the War of 1812.  In 1815 she joined the ten-ship Mediterranean squadron sent to stop the harassment of U.S.-flag ships by the Barbary pirates, and on June 17, helped capture the Algerian frigate MASHUDA. 

In 1819 the USS MACEDONIAN became the first ship to serve on the Pacific station.  Under Captain John Downes she ranged as far north as Acapulco, protecting U.S. commerce in South America during a widespread revolt against Spanish rule.  She was relieved by the USS CONSTELLATION and returned to the Atlantic seaboard in 1821.  She then went to the West Indies for five years and did another year in the Pacific.  In 1828 she was broken up at the Norfolk Navy Yard.  As was the custom, some of her timbers were used in a second ship of the same name.  The second USS MACEDONIAN continued in service until 1875.  Some of the second ships timbers ended up in a City Island, New York, restaurant called Macedonia House!   

OCTOBER UPDATE: Editors Note:  During my limited research into this ship, I came across an account of the battle by Samuel Leech, R.N., a seaman who fought in that battle on the HMS MACEDONIAN and subsequently wrote about his experiences.  The following is taken off the internet and I thought it would be very interesting to the membership:

“At Plymouth we heard some vague rumors of a declaration of war against America.  More on this, we could not learn, since the utmost care was taken to prevent our being fully informed.  The reason of this secrecy was, probably, because we had several Americans in our crew, most of whom were pressed men, as before stated.  These men, had they been certain that war had broken out, would have given themselves up as prisoners of war, and claimed exemption from that unjust service, which compelled them to act with the enemies of their country.  This was a privilege which the magnanimity of our officers ought to have offered them.  They had already perpetrated a grievous wrong upon them in impressing them; it was adding cruelty to injustice to compel their service in a war against their own nation.  But the difficulty with naval officers is, that they do not treat with a sailor as with a man.  They know what is fitting between each other as officers; but they treat their crews on another principle; they are apt to look at them as pieces of living mechanism, born to serve, to obey their orders, and administer to their wishes without complaint.  This is alike a bad morality and a bad philosophy.  There is often more real manhood in the forecastle than in the ward-room; and until the common sailor is treated as a man, until every feeling of human nature is conceded to him in naval discipline—perfect, rational subordination will never be attained in ships of war, or in merchant vessels.  It is needless to tell of the intellectual degradation of the masses of seaman.   “A man’s a man for a’that;” and it is this very system of discipline, this treating them as automations, which keeps them degraded.  When will human nature put more confidence in itself?

Leaving Plymouth, we next anchored, for a brief space, at Torbay, a small port in the British Channel.  We were ordered thence to convoy a huge East India merchant vessel, much larger than our frigate and having five hundred troops on board, bound to the East Indies with money to pay the troops stationed there.  We set sail in a tremendous gale of wind.  Both ships stopped two days at Madeira to take in wine and a few other articles.  After leaving this island, we kept her company two days more; and then, according to orders, having wished her success, we left her to pursue her voyage, while we returned to finish our cruise.

Though without any positive information, we now felt pretty certain that our government was at war with America.  Among other things, our captain appeared more anxious than usual; he was on deck almost all the time; the “look-out” aloft was more rigidly observed; and every little while the cry of “Mast-head there!” arrested our attention.

It is customary in men of war to keep men at the fore and main mastheads, whose duty it is to give notice of every new object that may appear.  They are stationed in the royal yards, if they are up, but if not, on the top-gallant yards; at night a look-out is kept on the fore yard only.

Thus we passed several days; the captain running up and down and constantly hailing the man at the mast-head: early in the morning he began his charge “to keep a good look-out,” and continued to repeat it until night.

Indeed, he seemed almost crazy with some pressing anxiety.  The men felt there was something anticipated, of which they were ignorant; and had the captain heard all the remarks upon his conduct, he would not have felt very highly flattered.  Still, everything went on as usual; the day was spent in the ordinary duties of man-of-war life, and the evening in telling stories of things most rare and wonderful; for your genuine old tar is an adept in spinning yarns, and some of them, in respect to variety and length, might safely aspire to a place beside the great magician of the north, Sir Walter Scott, or any of those prolific heads that now bring froth such abundance of fiction to feed a greedy public, who read as eagerly as our men used to listen.  To this  yarn-spinning was added the most humorous singing, sometimes dashed with a streak of the pathetic, which I assure my readers was most touching; especially one very plaintive melody, with a chorus beginning with, “Now if our ship should be cast away, It would be our lot to see old England now more,” which made rather a melancholy impression on my boyish mind, and gave rise to a sort of presentiment that the MACEDONIAN would never return home again; a presentiment which had its fulfillment in a manner totally unexpected to us all.  The presence of a shark for several days, with its attendant pilot fish, tended to strengthen this prevalent idea.

The Sabbath came, and it brought with it a stiff breeze.  We usually made a sort of holiday of this sacred day.  After breakfast it was common to muster the entire crew on the spar deck, dressed as the fancy of the captain might dictate; sometimes in blue jackets and white trowsers, or blue jackets and blue trowsers; at other times in bluejackets, scarlet vests, and blue or white trowsers with our bright anchor buttons glancing in the sun, and our black, glossy hats, ornamented with black ribbons, and with the name of our ship painted on them.  After muster, we frequently had church service read by the captain; the rest of the day was devoted to idleness.  But we were destined to spend the Sabbath, just introduced to the reader, in a very different manner.

We had scarcely finished breakfast, before the man at the mast-head shouted, “Sail ho!”

The captain rushed upon the deck, exclaiming, “Mast-head there!”

 “Sir!”

 “Where away is the sail?”

The precise answer to the question I do not recollect, but the captain proceeded to ask, “What does she look like?”

“A square-rigged vessel, sir,” was the reply of the look-out.

 After a few minutes, the captain shouted again, “Mast-head there!”

 “Sir!”

 “What does she look like?”

“A large ship, sir, standing toward us!”

By this time, most of the crew were on deck, eagerly straining their eyes to obtain a glimpse of the approaching ship and murmuring their opinions to each other on her probable character.  Then came the voice of the captain, shouting, “Keep silence, fore and aft!”  Silence being secured, he hailed the look-out, who, to his question of “What does she look like?” replied, “A large frigate, bearing down upon us, sir!”

This intriguing written description of Samuel Leech’s will continue next month.  He goes on to describe the battle that subsequently takes place and the aftermath.  The narrative is long, so it may take several months to complete.

NOVEMBER:

 “By this time, most of the crew were on deck, eagerly straining their eyes to obtain a glimpse of the approaching ship and murmuring their opinions to each other on her probable character.  Then came the voice of the captain, shouting, “Keep silence, fore and aft!”  Silence being secured, he hailed the look-out, who, to his question of “What does she look like?” replied, “A large frigate, bearing down on us, sir!”

A whisper ran along the crew that the stranger ship was a Yankee frigate.  The thought was confirmed by the command of “All hands clear the ship for action, ahoy!”  The drum and fife beat to quarters; bulk-heads were knocked away; the guns were released from their confinement; the whole dread paraphernalia of battle was produced; and after the lapse of a few minutes of hurry and confusion, every man and boy was at his post, ready to do his best service for his country, except the band, who, claiming exemption from the affray, safely stowed themselves away in the cable tier.  We had only one sick man on the list, and he, at the cry of battle, hurried from his cot, feeble as he was, to take his post of danger.  A few of the junior midshipmen were stationed below, on the berth deck, with orders, given in our hearing, to shoot any man who attempted to run from his quarters.

Our men were all in good spirits; though they did not scruple to express the wish that the coming foe was a Frenchman rather than a Yankee.  We had been told, by the Americans on board, that frigates in the American service carried more and heavier metal than ours.  This, together with our consciousness of superiority over the French at sea, led us to preference for a French antagonist.

The Americans among our number felt quite disconcerted at the necessity which compelled them to fight against their own countrymen.  One of them, named John Card, as brave a seaman as ever trod a plank, ventured to present himself to the captain, as a prisoner, frankly declaring his objections to fight.  That officer, very ungenerously, ordered him to his quarters, threatening to shoot him if he made the request again.  Poor fellow!  He obeyed the unjust command and was killed by a shot from his own countrymen.  This fact is more disgraceful to the captain of the Macedonian than even the loss of his ship.  It was a gross and a palpable violation of the rights of man.

As the approaching ship showed American colors, all doubt of her character was at an end.  “We must fight her,” was the conviction of every breast.  Every possible arrangement that could insure success was accordingly made.  The guns were shotted; the matches lighted; for, although our guns were all furnished with first-rate locks they were also provided with matches, attached to lanyards, in case the lock should miss fire.  A lieutenant then passed through the ship, directing the marines and boarders, who were furnished with pikes, cutlasses, and pistols, how to proceed if it should be necessary to board the enemy.  He was followed by the captain, who exhorted the men to fidelity and courage, urging upon their consideration the well-known motto of the brave Nelson, “England expects every man to do his duty.”  In addition to all these preparations on deck, some men were stationed in the tops with small-arms, whose duty it was to attend to trimming the sails and to use their muskets, provided we came to close action.  There were others one of also below, called sail trimmers, to assist in working  the ship should it be necessary to shift her position during the battle.

My station was at the fifth gun on the main deck.  It was my duty to supply my gun with powder, a boy being appointed to each gun in the ship on the side we engaged, for this purpose.  A woolen screen was place before the entrance to the magazine, with a hole in it, through which the cartridges were passed to the boys; we received them there, and covering them with our jackets, hurried to our respective guns.  These precautions are observed to prevent the powder taking fire before it reaches the gun.

Thus we all stood, awaiting orders, in motionless suspense.  At last we fired three guns from the larboard side of the main deck; this was followed by the command, “Cease firing; you are throwing away your shot!”

Then came the order to “wear ship,” and prepare to attack the enemy with our starboard guns.  Soon after this I heard a firing from some other quarter, which I at first supposed to be a discharge from our quarter deck guns; through it proved to be the roar of the enemy’s cannon.

A strange noise, such as I had never heard before, next arrested my attention; it sounded like the tearing of sails, just over our heads.  This I soon ascertained to be the wind of the enemy’s shot.  The firing, after a few minutes’ cessation, recommenced.  The roaring of cannon could new be heard from all parts of our trembling ship, and, mingling as it did with that of our foes, it made a most hideous noise.  By-and-by I heard the shot strike the sides of our ship; the whole scene grew indescribably confused and horrible; it was like some awfully tremendous thunder-storm, whose deafening roar is attended by incessant streaks of lightning, carrying death in every flash and strewing the ground with the victims of its wrath: only, in our case, the scene was rendered more horrible than that, by the presence of torrents of blood which dyed our decks.

Though the recital may be painful, yet, as it will reveal the horrors of war and show at what a fearful price a victory is won or lost, I will present the reader with things as they met my eye during the progress of this dreadful fight.  I was busily supplying my gun with powder, when I saw blood suddenly fly from the arm of a man stationed at our gun.  I saw nothing strike him; the effect alone was visible; in an instant, the third lieutenant tied his handkerchief round the wounded arm, and sent the groaning wretch below to the surgeon.

The cries of the wounded now rang through all parts of the ship.  These were carried to the cockpit as fast as they fell, while those more fortunate men, who were killed outright, were immediately thrown overboard.  As I was stationed but a short distance from the main hatchway, I could catch a glance at all who were carried below.  A glance was all I could indulge in, for the boys belonging to the guns next to mine were wounded in the early part of the action, and I had to spring will all my might to keep three or four guns supplied with cartridges.  I saw two of these lads fall nearly together.  One of them was struck in the leg by a large shot; he had to suffer amputation above the wound.  The other had a grape or canister shot sent through his ankle.  A stout Yorkshireman lifted him in his arms and hurried his to the cockpit.  He had his foot cut off, and was thus made lame for life.  Two of the boys stationed on the quarter deck were killed.  They were both Portuguese.  A men, who saw one of them killed, afterwards told me that his powder caught fire and burnt the flesh almost off his face.  In this pitiable situation, the agonized boy lifted up both hands, as if imploring relief, when a passing shot instantly cut him in two.

I was an eye-witness to a sight equally revolting.  A man named Aldrich had his hands cut off by a shot, and almost at the same moment he received another shot, which tore open his bowels in a terrible manner.  As he fell, two or three men caught him in their arms, and, as he could no live, threw him overboard.

One of the officers in my division also fell in my sight.  He was a noble-hearted fellow, named Nan Kivell.  A grape or canister shot struck him near the heart; exclaiming, “Oh! My God!” he fell, and was carried below, where he shortly after died.

Mr. Hope, our first lieutenant, was also slightly wounded by a grummet, or small iron ring, probably torn from a hammock clew by a shot.  He went below, shouting to the men to fight on.  Having had his wound dressed, he came up again, shouting to us at the top of his voice, and bidding us fight with all our might.  There was not a man in the ship but would have rejoiced had he been in the place of our master’s mate, the unfortunate Nan Kivell.