Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed,
To armour armour, lance to lance opposed,
Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew,
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew
Victors and vanquish’d join’d promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise,
With streaming blood the slippery fields are dyed,
And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide.
The Iliad
NEWS OF THE battle’s outcome spread slowly throughout the area, although rumors were rampant since gunfire was heard as far away as Cleveland and Detroit. On a slight rise near the mouth of the Detroit River, Lieutenant Colonel A. F. Warburton of the 41st Regiment of Foot and a number of residents from Amherstburg watched the action through spyglasses. They observed the two fleets meet and commence action, but for the next three hours they could discern little through the haze of smoke. Finally they saw the fleets in close proximity to one another with a vessel, presumably the Little Belt, making a run for Malden. Closely pursued by American ships, she surrendered. Some observers on the Canadian shore misconstrued the result and mistakenly thought their squadron had gone in pursuit of the Americans. Consequently, false rumors spread to Sandwich and Detroit of a British victory. Some upriver residents started on a journey toward Amherstburg to enjoy the spectacle of American prisoners being landed. But soon the truth was obvious to all. Those watching from the shore eventually noticed the Stars and Stripes flying over the Union Jack on the masts of what had been His Majesty’s vessels. Joy curdled into apprehension and eventually into anxiety. Many from the Provincial Marine service on board the British fleet were local citizens, and concern rose for their safety. Parents, wives, and sweethearts of the soldiers and sailors pined for news of their loved ones.1
From Put-in-Bay the scene was similar. Lingering clouds of acrid gunsmoke, combined with the greater distance involved, obscured the result even after the roar of the cannon ceased. Those who remained on South Bass Island would not know the outcome until the next morning. One observer from this distant vantage point wrote, “There is no sentiment more painful than suspense, when it is excited by the uncertain issue of an event like this.”2
For those engaged in the battle, the night was filled with pain, grief, apprehension of the future, relief at being safe, a nagging demand for sleep, and hard work. Following the cessation of firing, the two squadrons anchored northeast of West Sister Island. Sometime after Jesse Elliott left the Detroit, Lieutenant Arthur O’Keefe of the 41st Foot, representing his commodore, boarded the Lawrence and offered Robert Barclay’s sword, hilt first, to Perry. The American refused it, informing O’Keefe and the other British officers who came on board that, as honorable enemies, they might keep their side arms. Later Perry would row across to the Detroit and visit the despondent Barclay, whom Perry and most others thought to be mortally wounded. Meanwhile, much remained to be done. Commissioned and petty officers organized prize crews and posted guards for the British prisoners, who actually outnumbered the Americans. Captains initiated repair work on masts, spars, rigging, sails, and rudders and had the hulls plugged or patched to ensure that the wounded ships stayed afloat and could sail to Put-in-Bay.
Many of the British killed during the battle had been thrown overboard in order to keep the ships and guns free of impediments. But the remaining bodies on board His Majesty’s ships after the engagement plus the dead American enlisted personnel were sewn into their hammocks with a cannonball placed at their feet. After Chaplain Thomas Breese of the Lawrence read the burial service from the Book of Common Prayer, the survivors committed the bodies to the lake. Later in the evening, the Trippe escorted the Chippawa to the anchorage off West Sister Island. As the ship’s bell struck midnight, the Scorpion returned with the Little Belt in tow.
Perhaps the busiest man that night was Acting Surgeon Usher Parsons of the Lawrence. Not only had that vessel suffered twenty-two dead, but more than sixty of her crew were wounded. Many of the wounded had been horribly mutilated, limbs shattered or crushed, but Parsons was so overwhelmed by the numbers that he postponed as many amputations as possible, cutting off only those extremities that had been nearly divided by cannonballs. Instead, Parsons employed emergency stopgap measures—dressing wounds and applying tourniquets to control bleeding until he found time to operate. Since Dr. Samuel Horseley of the Lawrence and Dr. Robert Barton of the Niagara were themselves too ill to help, Parsons could do little through the night except administer opiates, maintain shattered limbs in a uniform position, and keep the wounded as comfortable as possible. With very little sleep, he arose the next morning and immediately set about amputating three more limbs, completing the task by 0700. Then he set about ministering “to the compound and simple fractures, luxations, lacerations, and contusions in that order.” Perry apologized for his inability to provide medical help to the British wounded, but Parsons was unable to attend even to the Niagara’s wounded until the twelfth.3
The next morning Commodore Perry transferred his flag to the Ariel, which became his flagship for the duration of his service on the lake. With the Lawrence a veritable wreck and the Niagara under Elliott’s command, Perry opted for the fast and agile pilot schooner to serve as his workhorse. Perry’s much-enlarged squadron raised anchor before dawn and limped back to Putin-Bay, reaching that protected harbor by 0900 on 11 September.
At 1000 the following morning, Sunday the twelfth, the bodies of the three American and three British officers who had been killed in the battle were lowered into boats and ceremoniously rowed to shore as the bands of both squadrons played a solemn funeral dirge. Minute guns fired alternately from the Lawrence and Detroit during the trip. Once all were ashore, a procession formed in reverse order, the bodies of lowest in rank coming first, one American followed by one Briton, with Captain Robert Finnis coming last. The surviving officers fell into line by twos, an American pair alternating with a British pair. The two chaplains read the stately Anglican rites, concluding somberly: “We commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.” As with all military funerals, this one ended with volleys of musketry.4
Now it was time to assess the losses. Perry’s casualty list included 21 killed in action, 6 dead of wounds, and 96 reported wounded, although there were additional numbers of slightly wounded whose injuries were not considered severe enough to be included on the casualty list. Of these 123 losses, 83 were on board the Lawrence and 27 on board the Niagara. Among the remaining seven American ships, there were only 3 killed and 10 wounded, with the Tigress and Porcupine reporting no casualties. Amazingly, not one of the senior American officers was killed or wounded. The British list was longer, with Barclay’s enumeration noting 41 killed (including 3 officers) and 93 wounded (9 of them officers), a total of 134. Of those, 11 killed and 40 wounded (2 of whom died of their wounds) served on the Detroit, 18 killed and 24 wounded on the Queen Charlotte, 8 killed and 20 wounded on the Lady Prevost, 3 killed and 5 wounded on the General Hunter, and 1 killed and 4 wounded on the Chippawa. Barclay reported no casualties for the Little Belt. Particularly devastating to the British cause was that the commanders and first officers of five of the six British vessels were either killed or wounded. The enlisted losses included several critical personnel—2 master’s mates, a quartermaster, a boatswain, 2 boatswain’s mates, 2 carpenter’s mates, a quarter gunner, and 10 able seamen. The entire Royal Navy squadron complement was on the casualty list, since all of the survivors ended up as prisoners of war.5
Those who viewed the vessels in Put-in-Bay could scarcely comprehend how anyone could have survived the battle. One observer of the Detroit and Queen Charlotte commented that their sides “were shattered from bow to stern; there was scarcely room to place one’s hand on their larboard sides without touching the impression of a shot—a great many balls, canister and grape, were found lodged in their bulwarks. . . . Their masts were so much shattered that they fell overboard soon after they got into the bay.” The deck of the Lawrence “exhibited a scene that defies description—for it was literally covered with blood, which still adhered to the plank in clots—brains, hair and fragments of bones were still sticking to the rigging and sides. The . . . horror appalled my senses.” This observer concluded with a suitable eulogy for the dead, dying, wounded, and surviving members of both squadrons: “Rome and Sparta would have been proud of these heroes.”6
At Amherstburg and Detroit, the British and their sympathizers were dismayed. “The Loss of the Fleet is a most calamitous Circumstance,” wrote Procter, who immediately comprehended that the whole British position on the upper lakes was unhinged. He proposed an overland retreat up the Thames River while at the same time suggesting the reinforcement and the resupply of Fort Michilimackinac.7 Procter’s withdrawal proposal understandably excited Tecumseh and the various Indian leaders at Amherstburg, who demanded an audience with the British leaders on 18 September.
Tecumseh dominated the meeting. Dressed in a tight-fitting deerskin outfit that outlined his athletic proportions, a white ostrich feather prominently protruding from his headdress, the charismatic chieftain recited a litany of broken British promises—of how the redcoats abandoned the Indians after the battle of Fallen Timbers in 1794, of how the English promised to help take back the lands the Americans had stolen from them, of how the British urged the Indians to move their families from their homelands to the protection of Amherstburg (where they were to be fed and clothed), of how the redcoats promised to destroy the American fortifications because the Indians could not fight a “people who live like ground-hogs,” and of how His Majesty’s soldiers assured the Indians they would “never draw . . . [their] foot off British ground.” General Procter’s conduct was compared to “a fat animal, that carries it tail upon its back, but when affrighted, it drops it between its legs and runs off.” Tecumseh wanted to retreat no more; instead he proposed a last stand at Amherstburg. “If you have any idea of going away,” he concluded, the arms and ammunition of the British should be given to the Indians, who “are determined to defend our lands, and if it is . . . [the Great Spirit’s] will, we wish to leave our bones upon them.” Young John Richardson, who witnessed this event, remembered that “the various chieftains started up to a man, and brandishing their tomahawks in the most menacing manner, vociferated their approbation of his sentiments.”8 Indian Agent Matthew Elliott and General Procter felt their lives were being threatened by their allies; it was one of the most trying events in both their lives.
Due to Perry’s victory, British naval presence on the upper lakes had been reduced to a few commercial vessels that had been converted into gunboats. Two of these were the schooners Ellen and Erie (which would be burned during the retreat up the River Thames) and the North West Company’s schooner Nancy (which would narrowly escape capture in the St. Clair River). Although she was able to limp into the harbor at Mackinac Island, the Nancy had been so stripped of sails and rigging that she could no longer be sailed. Mackinac Island seemingly lay at the mercy of the Americans.9
For the American crews there was no rest; they immediately began refurbishing the ships of both squadrons and preparing to transport General Harrison’s Northwestern Army across the lake. The second U.S. invasion of the Western District of Upper Canada was about to begin.
On 12 September, despite his wounds, Commander Barclay completed the “melancholy task” of relating the “unfortunate issue” of the battle on Lake Erie to his superior, Commodore Sir James Lucas Yeo. Barclay wrote that he formed his vessels closely “according to a given plan” so that they might mutually support one another “against the superior Force . . . opposed to them.” His description of the battle itself is particularly detailed.
At a quarter before twelve I commenced the Action by firing a few long Guns, about a quarter past the American Commodore, also supported by two Schooners, one carrying four long twelve P[ounde]rs., the other a long thirty two and twenty four pr. came to close action with the Detroit, the other Brig of the Enemy apparently destined to engage the Queen Charlotte, support in like manner by two Schooners, kept so far to the Windward as to render the Queen Charlotte’s 24 pr. Carronades useless, while she was with the Lady Prevost, exposed to the heavy and destructive Fire of the Caledonia and four other Schooners armed with heavy Guns. . . .
Too soon, alas, was I deprived of the Services of the noble & intrepid Captn. Finnis, who, soon after the commencement of the action fell, and with him fell my greatest support. Soon after Lieut. Stokoe of the Queen Charlotte was struck senseless by a Splinter which deprived the Country of his Services at this very critical period, as I perceived the Detroit had enough to contend with, without the prospect of a fresh Brig; Provincial Lieut. Irvine, who then had charge of the Queen Charlotte behaved with great courage, but his experience was much too limited to supply the place of such an officer as Capt. Finnis, hence she proved far less assistance than I expected.
The Action continued with great fury until half past two, when I perceived my opponent drop astern and a Boat passing from him to the Niagara (which Vessel was at this time perfectly fresh) the American Commodore seeing that as yet the day was against him (His Vessel having struck soon after he left her) and also the very defenseless state of the Detroit, which Ship was now a perfect Wreck, principally from the Raking Fire of the Gun Boats, and also that the Queen Charlotte was in such a situation that I could receive very little assistance from her, and the Lady Prevost being at this time too far to the Leeward from her Rudder being injured, made a noble, and alas, too successful an effort to regain it, for he bore up and supported by his small Vessels passed within Pistol Shot and took a raking position on our Bow, nor could I prevent, as the unfortunate situation of the Queen Charlotte prevented us from wearing, in attempting it we fell onboard her. My Gallant first Lieutenant Garland was now mortally wounded and myself so severely that I was obliged to quit the deck.10
This desperate situation left the Detroit under the command of Lieutenant George Inglis. With the Niagara on her weather bow, the Queen Charlotte entangled in her rigging, and the four gunboats sending raking fire from her stern, Inglis found himself under “the painful necessity” of having to strike his colors.11 Attaching Inglis’s report to his own, Barclay continued by ascribing the defeat largely to three factors: first, the loss of the weather gauge; second, the loss of senior officers and experienced enlisted men early in the action; and third, most critically, the “want of a competent number of Seamen.” In effect, he shifted much of the blame onto his superior, Sir George Yeo, who refused to supply the necessary number of experienced seamen; onto the French Canadians who could not speak English; and onto the soldiers who knew nothing of seamanship. Despite the defeat, Barclay hoped Yeo would agree with him that “the Honour of His Majesty’s Flag has not been tarnished.”12
In composing his report to the secretary of the navy, Perry faced a dilemma. There is every indication that Perry did not condemn Elliott’s performance on the day of the battle or for several days thereafter. On 10 September he may have been too involved with fighting the Lawrence to observe closely the Niagara’s behavior. But his subordinates did, and they were quite outspoken regarding Elliott’s inactivity. During the battle itself, First Lieutenant John Yarnall, Lieutenant John Brooks (the marine commander), and Midshipmen Dulaney Forrest and Thomas Claxton were particularly vociferous in pointing out the Niagara’s failure to come into close action with the Queen Charlotte. Forrest remembered Perry saying as he left the Lawrence, “If a victory is to be gained, I’ll gain it.” This statement implies Perry was aware of Elliott’s misconduct and apprehended that Elliott desired the laurels of victory to fall on his brow rather than on his commodore’s. If so, Perry exhibited extraordinary restraint when he took command of the Niagara. But Perry was still embroiled in a desperate conflict whose outcome was yet in doubt. This was certainly no time to confront his second. Also, Elliott may have fended off any anger Perry may have felt by immediately volunteering to jump in the Lawrence’s first cutter and bring up the schooners, an offer that elicited no objection whatsoever from Perry. With Elliott removed from the scene, Perry had a battle to win and time for little else.
The censure of Elliott by the officers of the Lawrence increased after the battle. Even Dr. Parsons, who spent the entire action below deck tending the wounded, wrote that Elliott “had disgraced himself during the action.” Perry, justifiably elated with the victory, felt that there was enough glory and credit to go around. Most likely he had reservations about Elliott’s conduct, but the United States was in desperate need of a victory, the war had not been going well, and nationwide morale was low. Perry determined that news of the victory should not be marred by controversy, so he sought to suppress discord. But Perry’s subordinates would not be silenced regarding the Niagara’s two hours of inactivity. Perry learned what was happening and immediately ordered that all private communications regarding Elliott’s conduct be destroyed. The principal agents for enforcing these instructions were Perry’s confidants, Purser Samuel Hambleton, Lieutenant Daniel Turner, and Dr. Parsons. The latter concluded that had Perry not made such a constraint upon his officers, “their discontents would have been circulated throughout the Country.” However, before Perry’s suppression order was issued, one of Lieutenant Yarnall’s letters had already been sent and would subsequently be published.13
Whatever the reason, Perry manifested considerable tact and restraint when he composed his description of “the most important particulars of the Action” for Secretary of the Navy William Jones. After the exceptional victory, Perry was loath “rigidly to examine into the conduct of any officer of the fleet.” Rather, the American commodore desired “that in the fleet I then had the honor to command there should be nothing but harmony after the victory they had gained; & that nothing should transpire which would bring reproach upon any part of it.”14 Perry’s report, the subject of much controversy, needs to have those portions concerning the action itself quoted in detail.
At 15 minutes before twelve, the Enemy commenced firing; at 5 minutes before twelve, the action commenced on our part. Finding their fire very destructive, owing to their long guns, and its being mostly directed at the Lawrence, I made sail, and directed the other vessels to follow, for the purpose of closing with the Enemy. Every brace and bowline being soon shot away, she became unmanageable, notwithstanding the great exertions of the Sailing Master. In this situation, she sustained the action upwards of two hours, within canister distance, until every gun was rendered useless, and the greater part of her crew either killed or wounded. Finding she could no longer annoy the Enemy, I left her in the charge of Lieut. Yarnall, who, I was convinced, from the bravery already displayed by him, would do what would comport with the honour of the Flag. At half past two, the wind springing up, Capt. Elliott was enabled to bring his vessel, the Niagara, gallantly into close action. I immediately went on board of her, when he anticipated my wishes, by volunteering to bring the Schooners, which had been kept astern by the lightness of the wind, into closer action. It was with unspeakable pain that I saw, soon after I got on board the Niagara, the Flag of the Lawrence come down; although I was perfectly sensible that she had been defended to the last, and that to have continued to make a shew of resistance would have been a wanton sacrifice of the remains of her brave crew. But the Enemy was not able to take possession of her, and circumstances soon permitted her Flag again to be hoisted. At 45 minutes past two the signal was made for “closer action.” The Niagara being very little injured, I determined to pass through the Enemy’s line; bore up, and passed ahead of their two Ships and a Brig, giving a raking fire to them from the Starboard Guns, and to a large Schooner and Sloop from the Larboard side, at half Pistol shot distance. The smaller vessels, at this time, having got within Grape and Canister distance, under the direction of Captain Elliott, and keeping up a well directed fire, the two Ships, a Brig, and Schooner, surrendered, a Schooner and Sloop making a vain attempt to escape.15
In his dispatch, Perry clearly indicates that he received little support from Elliott for an extended period of time, excusing the Niagara’s conduct because of the light winds. It was “the wind springing up” that “enabled” Elliott to bring his ship “gallantly into close action.” This phrase would subsequently be the source of much controversy. Was Elliott in “close action” before Perry boarded the Niagara? Or was the relief flagship merely “enabled” to come into close action?
Also significant from Elliott’s point of view were the commendations given the officers of the squadron. Perry noted that the “Officers and Men, who were under my observation, evinced the greatest gallantry; and I have no doubt that all the others conducted themselves as became American Officers and Seamen.” Several officers were accorded specific mention, and Perry began his particular descriptions of valorous conduct with Lieutenant Yarnall, who, “although several times wounded, refused to quit the Deck.” Yarnall was the only officer to receive two citations. As noted previously, Perry commended his “bravery” and his capacity to “comport with the honour of the Flag” while commanding the Lawrence after Perry left her. The bravery of Midshipman Forrest received notice, as did that of Sailing Master William Taylor, who was “of great assistance to me.” Perry also commented upon the services of Purser Hambleton—who volunteered to serve on the deck, a position not required by his station—and Midshipmen Thomas Claxton and Augustus Swartwout. All three of these officers were “severely wounded,” and Claxton would die of his wounds. Poignant notice was given to the memories of Lieutenant Brooks and Midshipmen Henry Laub and John Clark, who died in the action and were described as being “valuable and promising officers.” The commanders of the two gunboats who provided effective support off the flagship’s weather bow, Lieutenant John H. Packett of the Ariel and Sailing Master Stephen Champlin of the Scorpion, “were enabled to get early into action, and were of great service.” Lieutenant Turner of the Caledonia received some of Perry’s highest praise for bringing “that vessel into action in the most able manner, and is an officer that, in all situations, may be relied on.”
For those officers serving on the Niagara, Perry was also complimentary. He grouped Lieutenants Joseph E. Smith and John J. Edwards, along with Midshipman and Acting Sailing Master Nelson Webster, in a single sentence of praise for behaving “in a very handsome manner.” Particular accolades went to Captain Henry Brevoort, USA, who volunteered as the ship’s marine commander and proved himself “an excellent and brave officer.” Perry reported that the musket fire of Brevoort’s soldiers-turned-marines achieved “great execution.”
Perry, of course, could not observe all the ships in the American squadron, but Elliott was ideally situated to notice special service in the trailing vessels. When Perry requested information in this regard, Elliott provided his commander only with the name of Purser Humphrey Magrath. Perry wrote a commendation for the former naval lieutenant that he would subsequently regret: “Capt. Elliott speaks in the highest terms of Mr. Magrath, Purser, who had been despatched, in a boat, on service, previous to my getting on board of the Niagara; and being a Seaman, since the action, has rendered essential service, in taking charge of one of the prizes.” There can be little doubt of Magrath’s service to Elliott. Not only did he serve as Elliott’s principal advisor and confidant on the Niagara during the battle, he also had been sent to procure some 12-pound shot from the Lawrence while Elliott was moving forward. Magrath afterwards joined Elliott in rowing to the gunboats after Perry boarded the Niagara, and he was Elliott’s messenger to the gunboats during the battle’s final phase. Undoubtedly, Magrath expected his conduct to be rewarded with a renewal of his commission. But this did not happen, and Elliott subsequently poisoned Magrath’s mind with images of Perry being responsible for the failure of his elevation to a lieutenancy. Magrath eventually became Elliott’s principal agent in the machinations that were to follow. Purser Hambleton would relay to Perry several months later that the reason for Magrath’s ingratitude was that he did not receive enough commendation in Perry’s dispatch, and that the commodore attributed the mentioning of Magrath’s good conduct to Elliott’s recollection, not his own.16
Perry reflected long and hard about what he would say regarding Elliott. Five years later, Hambleton recalled that Perry agonized over what to say about his second: “To say nothing would imply strong censure—to say less than you did would, you thought, ruin him.”17 Or, as Perry wrote Secretary of the Navy Benjamin W. Crowninshield in 1818, he “might not only ruin that officer, but at the same time give occasion to animadversions which, at that period, I thought would be little to the honour or advantage of the service.”18 Consequently, Perry opted to write an enigmatic and ambivalent comment regarding his second-in-command: “Of Capt. Elliott, already so well known to the Government, it would almost be superfluous to speak. In this action he evinced his characteristic bravery and judgment; and, since the close of the action, has given me the most able and essential assistance.” The reasons for Perry’s equivocal commentary, which only served to elicit subsequent controversy, can only be speculated upon, but the commodore’s failure to confront Elliott’s conduct immediately following the battle, whatever that conduct might have been, caused Perry untold grief for the remainder of his short life.
Meanwhile, the commodore refused to rest on his laurels. The whole purpose of winning Lake Erie was to obtain a secure line of supply for General Harrison’s Detroit campaign. Perry facilitated these efforts in four different areas: first, by providing logistical support to the army, especially in carrying supplies from Erie and Cleveland to the Detroit area; second, by transporting most of Harrison’s army in stages from the mouth of the Portage River to the Canadian shore south of Fort Malden; third, by chasing a few remaining light British vessels out of Lake St. Clair and using his ships to provide additional logistical support to Harrison’s advance along the southern shore of that lake toward the mouth of the Thames River; and fourth, by sailing his lightest gunboats up that river to the head of navigation in order to provide gunfire and logistical support to Harrison’s movement. Upon retaking Detroit and destroying British-Indian resistance in southwestern Upper Canada at the battle of the Thames, Perry’s squadron transferred elements of Harrison’s army from the Detroit frontier to the Niagara frontier to augment the campaign in that theater. These efforts constitute an extraordinary degree of army-navy cooperation.
Harrison’s strategy called for a two-pronged advance toward the Detroit River. Colonel Richard M. Johnson’s regiment of Kentucky mounted riflemen rode north from Fort Meigs to Detroit, while Perry’s squadron escorted Harrison’s main forces (both regulars and militia) across the lake to Fort Malden. Although Harrison had no command authority over Perry, the two cooperated in a unity of effort that made such authority unnecessary. Each service commander brought the expertise of his service to the decision-making process. Harrison, for instance, desired to cross the lake in one movement with his troops crammed into the ships of Perry’s fleet. Perry objected to this arrangement on the grounds that it would hamper his ability to navigate his vessels and could impose potentially disastrous tactical constraints in the event of an opposed landing. Under such circumstances, the overcrowding of Perry’s vessels would not allow him adequately to support the landings with artillery fire. Perry became Harrison’s advisor on naval matters and a member of his general staff (a term which in those days referred to flag officers—i.e., generals and commodores). In effect, Harrison accorded Perry flag honors technically not allowed his position.
At Perry’s suggestion, the Northwest Army moved in stages, with the bulk of the troops being transported in bateaux that had been specially constructed for this purpose. Built in Cleveland under the direction of Major Thomas Jesup of the 19th U.S. Infantry, the landing craft were strongly built, undecked boats “high sided & very competent to the navigation of the Lake, particularly between the chains of islands & the West Shore.” Most of the bateaux had been concentrated in Sandusky Bay prior to Perry’s victory, and now they hauled troops and supplies that had traveled from Camp Seneca via the Sandusky River. Instead of sending the boats on a forty-mile journey around the Marblehead Peninsula, the soldiers laboriously pulled them over the two-mile isthmus that separated the Sandusky and Portage Rivers. Additional bateaux came directly from Cleveland.
Harrison’s army assembled for a “General Rendezvous” at the mouth of the Portage. Because one group of Kentuckians could not take their horses in the bateaux, they constructed a fence of brush and fallen timber across the isthmus. Within the resulting enclosure, they turned their horses loose to graze until the dismounted cavalrymen returned. General Duncan McArthur moved his brigade from Fort Meigs via his own small boats that had transported troops and supplies down the Maumee earlier. At the mouth of the Portage (modern Port Clinton, Ohio) they rendezvoused with the balance of Harrison’s force, which came from Camp Seneca. The joint forces consisted of at least 3,500 soldiers, Perry’s sixteen vessels and 500 men, and eighty to ninety landing craft. Between 20 and 22 September, Perry transferred Harrison’s army to Put-in-Bay. After the weather cleared, between 25 and 26 September, Perry’s squadron sailed with this invasion fleet to Middle Sister Island, about fifteen miles from their landing point below Fort Malden. Middle Sister was an islet of only five or six acres on which the entire army assembled.19
As the troops poised for the invasion, Perry embarked Harrison, his generals, and his ubiquitous chief engineer, Major Eleazer D. Wood, on board the Ariel for a reconnaissance toward the Canadian shore. Despite the “dead silence and tranquillity” that prevailed along the coast, Harrison suspected a British ruse and anticipated resistance to their landing. Subsequently, Major Wood drafted and Harrison signed a detailed order for the forthcoming landing.20
With the exception of the lessons learned by Perry and Elliott during the attack on Fort George the previous May, few of the American officers had experience with amphibious operations, particularly opposed landings. As Captain Robert McAfee of the Kentucky militia wrote, Harrison’s army was “composed emphatically of raw troops . . . whose officers in general were but little superior in the knowledge of tactics to the men they commanded.”21 The minutely detailed order attempted to cover all expected exigencies, and Harrison’s initial landing parties were to be led by some of his most experienced officers.
Harrison’s expectations for the navy were much less specific. His order merely required that the “arrangement for landing the troops will be made entirely under the direction of an officer of the navy whom Commodore Perry has been so obliging as to offer for that purpose. The debarkation of the troops will be covered by the cannon of the vessels.” Given this latitude, Perry assigned each warship to tow several of the bateaux during the approach toward the Canadian shore. Perry would superintend the squadron’s fire support. Elliott would manage “the debarkation of the troops.”22
On 27 September, Perry’s armada arrived east of the Detroit River’s mouth and the warships moored about a quarter mile off the Canadian shore. Crewmen of the larger vessels rigged spring lines on the anchor cables so that they might be pivoted around to provide gunfire support from either starboard or larboard batteries. Lieutenant Colonel James V. Ball’s dismounted dragoons landed first, followed by Colonel James Simrall’s riflemen. Major Wood, who concurrently served as Harrison’s chief engineer and operations officer, commanded an artillery battalion that disembarked with six pieces. These were “mounted in bateaux—one gun in each—loaded and match lighted,” said the young West Point graduate, “so that I could have fought as well by sea as by land.”23 Shots from Perry’s long guns scared off the few Indians observing the landings. Malden and Detroit fell without any British-Indian opposition. Although the points of conflict between the two senior U.S. Navy officers were now obvious, Perry praised Elliott’s conduct in supervising the landings as being “most admirably performed.”24
The easy landing was a consequence of a British withdrawal. Despite the protestations of Tecumseh and the threats of the other Indians, the Royal Navy’s defeat terminated the British army’s ability to maintain control of the Detroit River region. Indian Agent Matthew Elliott finally convinced Tecumseh that bravado alone would not withstand the coming invasion. Fort Malden’s guns were gone, captured with the Detroit. Additionally, the number of British troops at Fort Malden had been severely reduced. The ranks of the 41st Regiment of Foot had been thinned by engagements at the River Raisin and at Forts Meigs and Stephenson. Many of the brave men of the 41st Foot and the Royal Newfoundland Regiment who had fought with Barclay were now trudging toward Chillicothe, Ohio, as prisoners of war. Only nine hundred British soldiers remained to face the several thousand Harrison was sending against them. Procter managed to delay his departure from Fort Malden for two weeks following Perry’s victory, but when intelligence arrived that the American invasion force was approaching, the British general could delay the inevitable no longer. On 24 September, after destroying all the public buildings at Amherstburg and the stores he could not take with him, Procter began an orderly withdrawal to Sandwich (modern Windsor, Ontario). Gathering his forces, their dependents, British officials and their dependents, and the remaining Indian allies, he slowly retreated up the Thames River valley.
It would appear that General Procter feared the vengeance that the dreaded Kentuckians might impose on his person were he to be captured by siblings and friends of the victims of the River Raisin and Dudley massacres. On their march from Fort Meigs to Detroit, Johnson’s Kentucky mounted riflemen paused at the River Raisin to carefully gather and solemnly bury the bleached bones of their comrades that still lay widely scattered about the environs of Frenchtown. In the minds of the vengeful Kentuckians, the British general bore much of the responsibility for their deaths.25
Perry ordered his subordinates to provide support for Harrison’s advance. For example, he directed the commanders of two of his smaller vessels to “proceed to Portage river . . . & take on board as many of Col. [Thomas] Smith’s Reg. of Riflemen, as [your vessels] will carry & land them at Malden. If you are not able to bring them all, you will return to the River for the remainder.” To Lieutenant Thomas Holdup he wrote, “You will keep as near the Army with the Caledonia as possible, that you may be enabled to deliver them provisions as called for.” George Senat of the Porcupine received a directive to “proceed to the Lake St. Clair, & join me at the mouth of the river Thames, where the baggage you have on board for the army will be landed.” With the Scorpion, Tigress, and Porcupine, Elliott then journeyed up the Thames providing artillery, logistical support, and river-crossing transportation for Harrison’s rapidly advancing army. As Perry informed Secretary Jones, “Every possible exertion will be made by the officers & men under my command to assist the advance of the Army, and it affords me great pleasure . . . to say, that the utmost harmony prevails between the Army & Navy.” General Harrison confirmed this in a letter to Secretary of War John Armstrong, noting that “Commodore Perry gives me every assistance in his power.”26
Seldom have commanders from different services cooperated with each other in a closer and more efficient manner. One only has to compare the impact of their campaign with those of Chauncey and Dearborn and to note the difference in operational success even though all had been given the same directions from Washington for interservice cooperation.27 Captain Arthur Sinclair, USN, aptly summarized the effective and important logistical role of the navy in the Great Lakes campaigns of 1813: “We have been pioneers for the army upon both Lakes this whole campaign—the capture of York, of Fort George, Malden, the distruction of Proctors [sic] army, the transportation of two armies from the head of the Lake to this place [Sackets Harbor] without the loss of a single Boat, has been effected by the aid of the Navy.”28
Harrison’s forces caught up with Tecumseh, Procter, and their troops and, at the battle of the Thames on 5 October, eliminated serious British resistance in the Western District of Upper Canada. The achievements of Perry and his men in the advance—and of Perry himself, who acted as one of Harrison’s aides during the battle—brought from the general praise in his report to the secretary of war: “The appearance of the brave Commodore cheered and animated every breast.” For the remainder of the war the Americans controlled both sides of the Detroit River. Ohio, Indiana, and southern Michigan frontiersmen were no longer subject to British and Indian attacks.29
Master Commandant Elliott took great offense at the implications of nonsupport in Perry’s report to the secretary of the navy. For the next thirty years he tried to amend the official and popular impression that he was not a principal contributor to the victory on Lake Erie.
When they learned of Perry’s wording of the after-action report, members of the Niagara’s officer complement felt they had been slighted. It was their vessel that delivered the decisive blow that won the battle of Lake Erie. By 19 September “a strong party had sprung up in the fleet, particularly on board the Niagara, hostile to Commodore Perry.”30 The commodore remained somewhat aloof from all this maneuvering and seemed unaware of the plotting when he received a letter from Elliott on 18 September:
Dear Sir,
My brother [Captain Wilson Elliott, USA], who has this evening arrived from the interior of the country, has mentioned to me a report that appeared in general circulation, that, in the late action with the British fleet, my vessel betrayed a want of conduct in bringing into action, and that your vessel was sacrificed in consequence of a want of exertion on my part individually. I will thank you if immediately you will, with candour, name to me my exertions, and that of my officers and crew.
Such a letter implies considerable concern on the part of Elliott and indicates a very demanding personality, a factor emphasized by a postscript: “An immediate answer is desired.” It would not be until the nineteenth that Hambleton learned that the “head” of the anti-Perry cabal was Elliott himself. Before Hambleton could make this information known to the commodore, Perry replied to Elliott as follows:
I received your note of last evening after I had turned in, or I should have answered it immediately. I am indignant that any report should be in circulation prejudicial to your character, as respects the action of the tenth instant. It affords me pleasure that I have it in my power to assure you, that the conduct of yourself, officers, and crew was such as to meet my warmest approbation. And I consider the circumstances of your volunteering and bringing the smaller vessels to close action as contributing largely to our victory. I shall ever believe it a premeditated plan of the enemy to disable our commanding vessel, by bringing all their force to bear upon her; and I am satisfied, had they not pursued this course, the engagement would not have lasted thirty minutes. I have no doubt, if the Charlotte had not made sail and engaged the Lawrence, the Niagara would have taken her in twenty minutes.31
Perry would regret for the rest of his life having written this letter. From it Elliott and his champions, Russell Jarvis and James Fenimore Cooper, would contend that Perry bore no malice toward his second until the maneuvers of the New Englanders on board the Lawrence connived against Elliott. On the other hand, Elliott may have desired a speedy reply because he feared one of Perry’s partisans would discover his plotting and inform the commodore, and that this would result in a less favorable reply to his epistle. As fate would have it, Hambleton arrived in the commodore’s cabin after the reply had been sent. Yet a close reading of the letter does not discredit what Perry had said in his after-action report. The “conduct” of Elliott and his crew had received Perry’s “warmest approbation” in the first message. The emphasis on Elliott’s conduct in both heaped praise upon the Niagara’s commander in “bringing the smaller vessels to close action,” not in fighting the Queen Charlotte. Despite Perry’s later regrets, even in this somewhat indiscreet letter he remained cautious in his allocation of praise of Elliott. Even so, according to Hambleton, Perry became “highly excited” upon learning of Elliott’s “cabal.”32
Hambleton’s warning presaged a new assault by Elliott and his partisans. On 19 September the officers of the Niagara wrote a short note to Elliott to “congratulate” him “on our late victory over the British squadron.” These officers wrote they were “well convinced that in you we were ably commanded, and that your valor, intrepidity and skill could not be surpassed.” Heading the list of signers was Lieutenant Smith, Elliott’s second-in-command, with Purser Magrath, Lieutenants Webster and Edwards, Surgeon Barton, and Captain Brevoort also signing, in that order. What is interesting about this list is that Magrath, who did not hold a commissioned rank, is listed ahead of the two lieutenants, the surgeon, and the army captain.33
Thereafter the web of intrigue spun by Elliott and Magrath began to spread. In mid-October the Niagara’s officers drafted a letter to Secretary of the Navy William Jones designed to clarify the “condensed” and “partial statements of the late action on Lake Erie” contained in Perry’s report. A generally favorable description of the Lawrence’s activities early in the battle is followed by a justification of their vessel’s conduct: “The Niagara’s position was close astern of the Caledonia, which she maintained, and being a little abaft of the weather beam of the Queen Charlotte, abreast of the Lady Prevost and the rest of the enemy’s squadron, the whole of whose fire she sustained.”
Here began the first of several false impressions of the battle that one encounters throughout this document. The “fire” of the trailing British vessels was hardly substantial given their light armament. More important was the obfuscation in the next couple of sentences: “At this time the Queen Charlotte was discovered to bear up, and stand away from the Niagara’s fire. Captain Elliott ordered the fore and aft mainsail to be hauled out and the jib and sheet aft, in order to come up with her, she being the vessel we meant particularly to engage.” This falsifies the time sequence, since we know the Queen Charlotte changed position around 1300, although the Niagara did not come forward for over an hour after that. Besides, the Queen Charlotte did not have to “stand away from the Niagara’s fire,” as the American vessel’s carronades could not reach her. Subsequently, the Niagara officers wrote, “Captain Elliott ordered the Caledonia to bear up and leave us room to close with the Lawrence, which was done, and the action carried on with great vigor and spirit on both sides.” This relatively accurate description was followed by a very confusing statement: “The most of our fire was now directed against the Queen Charlotte, (she having regained the [British] line,) Lady Prevost, and Little Belt, receiving the combined fires of the Detroit, Queen Charlotte, and Lady Prevost.” Since the Niagara passed to the windward of the Lawrence, it is doubtful if the Niagara engaged either of the two trailing vessels during her passage forward. How much she actually engaged the Queen Charlotte and Detroit before Perry’s arrival is open to considerable dispute.
Elliott’s officers then credited their commander with the decisive conclusion of the engagement. Elliott, they reported, “repaired” on board the Somers and brought the gunboats “into action at close musket shot; the consequence was that in ten minutes the Detroit and Queen Charlotte, with the Lady Prevost, struck us, and soon after the whole of the enemy’s squadron followed their example.” They made no mention of the Niagara’s conduct during this last phase. One might argue that Perry fully explained that vessel’s conduct in his letter, but the absence of any description of it by the Niagara’s officers indicates that probably Elliott and Magrath, who both served with the gunboats during the battle’s last phase, drafted this document.
“You will perceive, Sir, by this account,” the Niagara’s officers informed the secretary, “that the Niagara was most usefully and energetically engaged during the action, and the gallant manner and the celerity with which the small vessels were brought into action, and the instant change effected by it, ranks Captain Elliott, in our opinion as SECOND TO NONE, in the attainment of the late action.” They concluded by commending the “cool, brave and judicious deportment” exhibited by Elliott during the engagement. Such a statement undoubtedly carried weight in Washington, and it must have caused some consideration that Elliott deserved more credit than Perry accorded him.34
How much influence this letter had on subsequent developments in Washington is unknown. But the Niagara’s commander was just beginning his efforts to redeem his reputation. Perry secured Secretary Jones’s permission to return to his home in Newport. Elliott knew that he would assume command of Lake Erie. He accompanied Perry, Harrison, and the sorely wounded Captain Barclay to Erie, where a public dinner honoring the general and the commodore was followed by a procession with banners commending “COMMODORE PERRY, 10TH SEPTEMBER—GENERAL HARRISON, 5TH OCTOBER.” While the crowd cheered the victors on Lake Erie and at the Thames, Elliott sulked unnoticed in the same residence. On the table were newspapers “filled with encomiums of Commodore Perry,” while Elliott’s name “was hardly mentioned.”35
About this time, Elliott told Harrison, who had been an acquaintance of his father’s, that he “was entitled to an equal share of the honour with Capt. Perry, and would have received it but for his official letter, which insinuated that he had not been, during the whole time of the fight, in close action.” Not one to enter into a cabal against Perry, Harrison informed the commodore of Elliott’s opinions. Perry immediately called a meeting between Harrison, Elliott, and himself and offered to allow the officers of the squadron an opportunity to examine his official letter and to inform him if he had done Elliott an injustice. (We do not know if Perry knew of the letter to the secretary of the navy from the Niagara officers and how it may or may not have influenced his actions.) Later, at a meeting in Buffalo, in the presence of Harrison and Perry, the accuracy of the after-action report was “fully confirmed” by various squadron officers. Perry then informed Elliott, who remained behind in Erie, that as a result of this meeting he declined to make a supplemental statement to the secretary. Harrison observed, “Commodore Perry has saved his [Elliott’s] character for which he will never forgive him.” “I presume,” wrote Hambleton about these events, Elliott “was much mortified.”36
That mortification and the attempts to repair his reputation occupied Elliott throughout the winter. While in hindsight one would argue that Elliott should have left well enough alone, at the time he felt much slighted and thought his career in the navy adversely affected. He failed to appreciate Perry’s efforts to forbid circulation of information to his detriment. Instead, he indiscreetly wrote to Lieutenant Edward Cox, USN, that he was “a little mortified that our Country should be so wrongly informed of our late action on this Lake, and when the particulars of it are known the promotion of Perry to a Post Captaincy and me to the command of a Lake without an Enemy will be viewed as an ill grudged reward. Perry will make a better second, than a principle [sic] in a fleet action and nothing but the interest I have for the Service prom[p]ts my detailing facts to the public.”37 Elliott’s cause would not be helped when that letter was forwarded to Perry. His relationship with Perry deteriorated further because Hambleton kept Perry informed of what transpired among the Lake Erie squadron that winter.
Nothing more significantly points to Elliott’s command inadequacies than the growing indiscipline among the crews. “Discipline appears to be an end here,” the purser recorded. “The most scandalous licentiousness prevails among the men, and indeed, officers. Several fisticuffs and two duels have taken place and gambling is their principal occupation.” The squadron’s crews were observed “running wild about the town & country to the injury of the service & annoyance of the inhabitants.” Moreover, Elliott took few precautions to prevent the ships at Erie from being seized by a British raid.38 When he took over the Lake Erie command the following spring, Captain Arthur Sinclair reported the station “in the utmost State of confusion and insubordination—and the greatest waste of public property I ever knew.” Elliott did not know how many men he had under his command; his officers were either under arrest or “at loggerheads”; his accounts, supposedly kept by Purser Magrath, were in disarray; and he allowed two of the government’s vessels “to sink at their Anchor.” Sinclair found gross misuse of government funds and supplies and nothing ready for the expected expedition to recapture Mackinac Island. Several men died that winter, a consequence of the hospitals being disestablished and the sick being ill-attended.39
Indiscipline reflected itself in several ways among the officers. Fistfights broke out between Humphrey Magrath and Thomas Brownell and between August Conkling and James McDonald. The first two also fought a noninjury duel. Conkling narrowly avoided a duel, and McDonald and Senat fought the first of two duels, the second of which would result in Senat’s death the next year. Hambleton, Turner, Holdup, and Conkling begged to be released from lake duty.40
Instead of displaying the professional conduct one might expect of a commander during wartime, Elliott and his partisans spent the winter formulating their rationale for what transpired during the battle of Lake Erie. First, they argued that the reason they were relatively uninjured before Perry arrived on board the Niagara was that “the enemy overshot them—it being their [the British] intention to cripple their [Niagara’s] spars and to hull” the Lawrence. According to Hambleton, the reasoning bore no relation to reality since the Lawrence received heavy damage in her rigging and British officers avowed their carronade shots could not even reach the Niagara.
Second, with Perry now at Newport, Elliott advanced the idea that the commodore had been in such “a state of despair” when he boarded the Niagara that he “would have surrendered the fleet” had not Elliott discouraged him. (Why Perry risked life and limb by moving from one vessel to another in order to surrender was not commented upon.) Elliott and Magrath circulated various stories that Perry’s famous battle flag had been left floating on the water, lying on the deck of the Lawrence, or almost used as wads for the cannons. On the other side of the issue, Perry’s supporters, aware of Elliott’s ambition, supposed the Niagara’s commander wished to sacrifice the Lawrence so “that he might come up and decide the action himself, and thus secure the honour of the victory.”41
Elliott’s frustrations reached such a point that he indiscreetly mentioned that he regretted not sacrificing the squadron to defeat rather than coming forward with the Niagara when he did.42 In a similar vein, Elliott and Magrath began circulating suggestions that since the Lawrence had struck her flag, her crew was not entitled to any of the prize money.43 The extravagance of such statements causes one to question Elliott’s sense of propriety. Just how much of what happened can be attributed to Magrath is unknown, but Hambleton called him Elliott’s “prime minister” and “chief Inquisitor.” It is difficult to imagine a rational Elliott deserting the action or condoning the denial of appropriate rewards to the Lawrence’s embattled crew. Obviously, he was an extremely frustrated egotistical malcontent who lost the sense of fairness and subordination. Fate deals strange hands, and, to Jesse Duncan Elliott’s dismay, she left Perry with a royal flush.
Elliott requested a court of inquiry from the secretary of the navy, but the latter felt such a course unnecessary and refused the request. However, Secretary Jones submitted a complimentary report to Congress praising all the officers, especially Perry and Elliott. Congressman William Crawford of Pennsylvania (Elliott’s state of residence) introduced a resolution praising Perry and Elliott that heaped “particular” honor upon Elliott for his “decisive share” in the victory. At the congressman’s behest, Congress ordered the unprecedented distinction of having gold medals struck for both Perry and Elliott, with silver medals being awarded the subordinate officers.44 Nothing showed Elliott’s political influence more than this unique honor. It should have contented him, but it did not.
While this transpired in Washington, Elliott solicited favorable testimony from squadron officers on behalf of his version of the battle. While Perry could be charged with using command influence to secure his subordinates’ favorable concurrence with the after-action report at the Buffalo meeting, Elliott’s importunings constituted a flagrant abuse of command authority that would be roundly condemned today.
Nothing demonstrates this tendency of Elliott’s better than his solicitation of letters from the officers of vessels other than the Niagara and Lawrence regarding the action on 10 September. Elliott sought statements in his support from Henry Brevoort, Augustus Conkling, Daniel Turner, Thomas Brownell, and James McDonald. The latter, only an acting sailing master, was afraid to refuse Elliott’s request, believing “his bread depends upon this mans [sic] favour.” McDonald correctly understood that it was “very ungenerous” of a captain “to apply to one so much his inferior in rank for certificates.” Acting Sailing Master Brownell solidly resolved not to comply with any request of this sort.45
Elliott did manage to acquire statements from Captain Brevoort and Lieutenants Conkling and Turner. Brevoort’s testimony primarily concerned the encounter between Perry and Elliott when the former boarded the Niagara. Conkling, the Tigress’s commander, equivocated when he reported that the Niagara “was in the station which had been assigned her, and appeared to behave well; when the signal was made for closer action [after Perry boarded her], that vessel was near the enemy’s ships Detroit and Queen Charlotte, keeping up a well directed fire; and the conduct of Capt. Elliott in bringing the small vessels into close action, evinced the utmost activity and bravery.” Conkling’s statement is ambiguous at best. It does not support an argument that the Niagara was closely engaged with the Queen Charlotte before Perry boarded her. The best one can find in it is that she was in her station and “behaved well” when in that position.46 The emphasis was that Elliott displayed his greatest bravery when in command of the gunboats, not when directing the Niagara. Turner’s statement reported the Niagara “was in the station assigned, previous to the engagement” and that it was Turner’s opinion that Elliott and his officers “made use of every exertion, from the different situations in which” the Niagara found herself.47 Again, Turner reported the vessel was in her station, not that she fought at close action her assigned opponent. The “made use of every exertion” statement is vague, but does provide Elliott some exoneration.
According to Perry’s partisans, Elliott sought favorable comments regarding his conduct from some of the British prisoners. They turned him down flatly, arguing that if he had been in the Royal Navy, his conduct would have resulted in court-martial and hanging. Elliott’s principal defender, Russell Jarvis, argued that the British had ulterior motives in saying this. They had reduced the gallant Perry’s flagship to helplessness, and explained away their defeat by arguing the Niagara was perfectly fresh when she came up. That freshness could only be attributed to her staying out of the battle until after Perry boarded her. Jarvis argued that probably the British knew of the dissension in the American ranks and deliberately assisted Perry’s partisans by distorting the actual situation to Perry’s benefit, to Elliott’s discredit, and to the justification for their defeat.48 If, for whatever reason, the British officers did say that Elliott should be court-martialed and if Elliott knew what had been said, then his frustration could only have increased.
Elliott’s pettiness and vindictiveness reached its highest level in his treatment of the veterans of the Lawrence. Elliott sent several officers of the flagship to the isolated, frigid hardship post at Put-in-Bay for the winter where the Detroit and Queen Charlotte lay frozen in the ice. In November, Elliott ordered the arrest of Lieutenant Yarnall for insubordination. There would be no court-martial of Yarnall, since such a trial might have become an attack on Elliott’s conduct, but the threat the arrest implied resulted in Elliott being described as a “Brig Captain.” The situation actually deteriorated to the point where many distraught officers engaged in “Whisperings & closeting” among themselves, hoping to discover a means of avoiding open mutiny against their commander.49
If the state of affairs at Erie Station after the battle of Lake Erie was unwholesome among the officers—who, after all, were accorded the privileges of rank—it was even worse among the enlisted personnel. Harsh discipline, intense pervading cold, poor food, unhealthy living conditions, boredom, and obvious friction within the officer corps led to discontent and resentment on the lower decks. With the officers embroiled in and preoccupied with their own troubles, the welfare of the common sailors and marines was virtually ignored.
One of the easiest methods for the enlisted men to cope with their situation was not to deal with it at all—desertion was rife. Once Presque Isle Bay had frozen over, it was a simple matter for a sailor or marine to slip over the side in the middle of the night and disappear. The outlook was most pessimistic within the ranks of the U.S. Marines. Sailors normally enlisted for a period of one or two years, but marines were recruited for a five-year tour of duty. Most of the marines had been recruited from the ranks of Rees Hill’s 147th Regiment of Pennsylvania militia. The unit had been sent to Erie in May 1813 to guard the fleet during its construction. In a spur of patriotism, goaded by the flashy uniform and their own romantic ideals, approximately thirty-five militiamen volunteered for the U.S. Marine Corps. After the battle, with less than four months of their five-year enlistment expired, the idealism wore off. Lake Erie was now little more than a backwater of the war, and these raw militiamen-turned-marines faced the prospect of another four and a half years of service. Over the next few months, many opted for the simple solution of desertion.
Although it occurs after the troubles of the winter of 1813-14, perhaps the most notable example of desertion at Erie Station was the case of marines James Bird and James Rankin and Seaman Henry Davidson. As noted earlier, the twenty-seven-year-old Bird marched to Erie with Captain Samuel Thomas’s company of Pennsylvania artillery. While at Erie and still a militiaman, Bird was arrested and charged with theft, mutiny, and resisting arrest. Marine lieutenant Brooks, desperate for recruits, persuaded Bird to join the corps, promising to have the charges dropped. Rankin enlisted at Hagerstown, Maryland, in April 1813. Little is known about Davidson’s background except that he had a history of disciplinary problems in the navy. All three served in the battle of Lake Erie, during which Bird received a wound. His service in the battle earned Bird promotion to corporal.
On 4 June 1814, Bird was in charge of a detail, which included Rankin and Davidson, assigned to guard a warehouse at the Erie Naval Station. All three deserted; this was the fifth instance of desertion for Davidson. Captured six days later near Butler, Pennsylvania, the crewmen were returned to the fleet, court-martialed, and sentenced to death. Death was an oft-prescribed sentence for desertion during the period, but all death penalties were reviewed by the president, who commuted most to a lesser punishment. Nevertheless, desertion was an increasing problem in the military, and authorities felt an example must be set. On 11 November 1814 a firing squad executed James Bird and James Rankin on board the Niagara, and Davidson was hanged from a yardarm. All three were buried beneath a sandbar at the mouth of Mill Creek in Presque Isle Bay.
Efforts were made to turn Bird’s case into a cause célèbre. Poems touting his patriotism and public spirit began appearing, and several writers recounted “the thoroughly authentic story of the unyielding patriotism, the magnificent courage, the noble self-denial, the whole-hearted devotion of James Bird to his country and his country’s flag.” The final verses from one version suffice to demonstrate the tone of these effusions:
Lo! he fought so brave at Erie,
Freely bled and nobly dared,
Let his courage plead for mercy,
Let his precious life be spared.
See him march and hear his fetters,
Harsh they clank upon his ear;
But his step is firm and manly,
For his heart ne’er harbored fear.
See! he kneels upon his coffin,
Sure, his death can do no good;
Spare him! Hark!—O God, they’ve shot him,
Oh, his bosom streams with blood.
Farewell, Bird! farewell, forever!
Friends and home he’ll see no more;
But his mangled corpse lies buried
On Lake Erie’s distant shore.50
Assertions were also made that Bird’s desertion was patriotically motivated, that he was actually attempting to make his way south to join Andrew Jackson’s army in repelling the redcoats below New Orleans. Since the British plan to capture New Orleans was unknown until long after the trio’s desertion, the legend lacks credibility.
Like the officers, the enlisted personnel turned to bickering among themselves. Fights among the men were commonplace, occasionally with disastrous results. On 28 October 1813, Alexander Metlin, a landsman who had served with the 147th Pennsylvania Regiment, became involved in an altercation with another crewman. During the fight, the twenty-eight-year-old Metlin some how was knocked or thrown overboard; he drowned in Lake Erie. Accidents were a common problem. Serving on a sailing warship was an inherently dangerous occupation to begin with, but working on or off a ship in freezing weather or traveling across the ice to and from shore often produced injury or fatal consequences. On 4 March 1814, Seaman Hector Holcomb of the Niagara drowned after falling through the ice while returning to his ship after a visit to Erie.51
Sickness among the crews was also pervasive thanks to cramped and crowded quarters, a poor and unvaried diet, and a lack of knowledge concerning treatment. Conditions at the Erie Station hospital, while considerably better than those aboard ship, were still primitive. Undoubtedly, one of the best records of the trials and tribulations of the men who manned the U.S. squadron at Erie during the winter of 1813–14 is the diary of Surgeon Usher Parsons. Disgruntled himself at being forced to remain on Erie Station throughout the winter, Parsons’s diary entries are often brief and acerbic, making it necessary to read between the lines:
Tues’y 26 [October 1813]. Removed dead subject to the lower hospital. . . . our men very troublesome. Storeroom broken open in the night
Wedy 27th October. Freeman Cook mutinied.
Sunday, Nov. 14th. Peter Davis died. Cold.
Tuesday, [Nov.] 23rd. William Goddard died. I attended his funeral. In the evening James Thompson died—with Dropsy.
Saturday, Nov 27. Got several men in irons at the lower hospital.
Fridy, 3rd [Dec.]. Attended an amputation in the thigh at the lower hospital.
Sundy 5th [Dec.]. Mr. [Thomas C.] Almy attended with Pleurisy. Thos. Wilson died.
Monday, Dec. 6th. Dined at Murray’s and took tea. Attended the dressing of the stump of the amputated limb.
Tuesday, Dec. 7th. Duel with Senat & McDonald fought. Very Pleasant—Reading Chemistry.
Jany. 22 [1814]. Ethan Allen, Nicholas Sharp died in a brick house on shore on 21 Jany.
Tuesday, February 1. Very Stormey. Mr. [James] Bliss and James Decost died yesterday.
Wedy 2nd [Feb.]. Mr. Bliss funeral. I am attending all the sick—Number about 50.
Saturday 5th [Feb.]. Extremely windy from the N.W. Charles Williams died.
Tuesday 15th [Feb]. Mr. Foster taken ill with fever. . . . Warm, rainy wind. Several people sick.
Mond. 21st [Feb.]. John Nailor died.
Wedy 23rd [Feb.]. Very warm. . . . Lieut. Edwards very ill.
Thursday 24th [Feb.]. Very rainy. Came on board the fleet. Found no one dead as I had expected. D[avid] S. Burdsill died.
Saty 12 [March]. Lieut. John J. Edwards died last night.
Mondy 28 [March], Called to set a dislocated bone. Peter Austin, Mr. Fox died last night.
Tuesday, 5th [April]. Great disturbance aboard the Niagara.
Monday, 9th [May]. Made out a list of Deaths.
Saturday, 14th [May]. Fleet sailed last evening for Long Point.
Parsons’s litany of death, injury, illness, bickering, and despondency did not end with his 14 May 1814 diary entry, but the departure of the fleet from Erie marked the termination of a long and bitter winter for the Lake Erie flotilla’s officers and men. Considering the privations and misery experienced by the crews during that winter of discontent, it is a wonder that the squadron was still a viable fighting force when it sailed in May.52
Many survivors carried the legacy of the battle of Lake Erie with them the rest of their lives. Several Lawrence veterans, like Seamen William Thompson and George Varnum, had only the stump of one leg. When one of the Caledonia’s guns fired, Carpenter’s Mate Isaac Peckham’s leg became jammed between a spar and the recoiling gun carriage. Although not listed as a casualty of the battle, forty years later the crippled Peckham resided in a Rhode Island poor-house. Private William Brady of the Trippe limped home with a smashed knee. Patrick FitzPatrick of the Trippe and Private Harvey Harrington of the Tigress suffered from permanent deafness.53
Similar stories confronted the British veterans. Private Robert Keilly of the General Hunter spent the rest of his life without a left arm. Sergeant Richard Forrestall received a discharge and pension as a consequence of a gunshot wound in his right arm. Privates Michael Davis and Edward White of the Queen Charlotte received their discharge papers in 1816 as a consequence of disabled legs, as did Private James Butler for a severely wounded arm. Many of the Canadian Provincial Marine veterans received land for their services. These included Midshipmen Samuel Hands and Robert Nelson, Master John Nelson, Carpenters Francis Allan and Peter Goueriaux, and Seamen Peter Bell, John Jacques, and James Walsh.54
Strategically, the efforts of Barclay and his crews were not in vain. They imposed a delay in American operational planning that proved crucial to the survival of Canada. Like cannon fodder left to fight as a forlorn hope, the British, Canadians, and three Indians who fought in the battle of Lake Erie contributed significantly to the stalemate in the Lake Ontario basin. Harrison’s victory at the Thames occurred too late in the season for Perry and Harrison to reinforce Chauncey and Dearborn on Lake Ontario for a thrust at the much more critical British outpost at Kingston in 1813. In 1814, British veterans of the Napoleonic Wars defended Canada. Consequently, American chances to annex British North America virtually disappeared. The Indians, British soldiers and sailors, and the Canadians in the Provincial Marine and militia created a great strategic diversion in the upper lakes, and the British preserved their North American provinces.
It may be argued that Perry’s dramatic victory did little to alter the outcome of the war, that it diverted U.S. manpower and matériel from more important objectives. On the other hand, had Perry lost, the Americans would have confronted strategic disaster. Under such a circumstance, a strong possibility existed of potential annexation of the modern states of Michigan and Wisconsin to Upper Canada. From a British point of view, the diversion on the Detroit River in 1812, combined with the Lake Erie campaign of 1813, provides a prime example of the principle of war known as economy of force, where one uses the smallest number of one’s own troops to distract the enemy from the decisive point of action.
Credit for this great diversion must go to General Sir Isaac Brock’s audacity in 1812, which resulted in the capture of Detroit; to the Native Americans who allied themselves to the Crown for the third time in forty years, only to see themselves betrayed again at the peace table; to the officers and men of the 41st Regiment of Foot and the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, who fought almost continuously for fourteen months at the remotest fringes of His Majesty’s empire; to those Canadians in both the Provincial Marine and the militia who provided additional combat power; and to the few officers and men of the Royal Navy who manned and fought for the Crown on this vast freshwater lake with all too little support from their superiors.
For the Indians the defeat of the British squadron on Lake Erie was the final straw that broke the back of Tecumseh’s confederacy. One student of Native American history called Perry’s victory “strategically the decisive battle in the Old Northwestern theater.”55 The earlier defeats at Forts Meigs and Stephenson began the desertions from the Detroit River region that were only enhanced by Perry’s victory. Only a few hundred Indians remained to make a last stand with the British at the Thames; many, including Tecumseh, met their end there. Tecumseh’s allies were left to the not-too-tender mercies of the Long Knives.
Efforts by Tenskwatawa and Main Poc to rally the Indians on the lower peninsula of Michigan failed. The tribes recognized their fate. The Americans were to dominate; further resistance was suicidal. Further north and west, Robert Dickson kept the tribes of modern Wisconsin and the upper peninsula of Michigan in the British camp. From Mackinac Island to the Rock River valley of northern Illinois, a very thin line of redcoats combined with fur traders and Indian warriors to keep at bay U.S. Army efforts to assert American authority in that region. Despite their successes on the battlefield, the fur traders and Indians were to lose at the negotiating table. Dickson’s promises of British fidelity to the Indians of the upper lakes proved false.56
For the United States, the victory proved a mixed blessing. Clearly, American control of Lake Erie ensured dominance of the upper lakes, even though the Americans never fully secured Lakes Huron, Michigan, and Superior before the conflict’s end. Tactically, the victory virtually guaranteed the return of Detroit and control of what is now southwestern Ontario to the United States. While one might argue whether General Harrison could have taken Detroit without Perry’s victory, there is no doubt that the security of the region was enhanced by complete American dominance of Lake Erie. For those Americans in southern Michigan Territory, Indiana Territory, and Ohio, the victory provided relief from the Indian menace.
One might question strategic efforts devoted to the security of a secondary, or even a tertiary, theater of operations. If the United States had retained along western Lake Erie only enough troops to counter the one battalion of British troops at Fort Malden and had concentrated its resources in the Lake Ontario basin instead, the outcome of the war may have been altered dramatically. If the vessels built on Lake Erie had instead been constructed on Lake Ontario and the sailors sent to Lake Erie from Lake Ontario to man Perry’s flotilla had remained on the lower lake, then the balance of power may have tipped toward the Americans on the lower lake. Control of Kingston and Lake Ontario would have been far more significant to American strategic objectives than dominance of Lake Erie and Detroit. Of course, the British squadron already in place on the upper lakes would have given the British and their Indian allies tremendous tactical flexibility against the American frontier. There also remains the question as to whether the United States possessed the necessary shipbuilding facilities on Lake Ontario to construct a squadron comparable to that built on Lake Erie.
It is doubtful whether an army the size of that raised by Harrison could have been recruited for service on Lake Ontario’s shores. The Kentuckians who constituted Harrison’s prime source of manpower would not come that far east given the danger to their settlements from western Indians. The Lake Erie campaign was a political necessity for the Madison administration, whose base of support relied on the Ohio and Kentucky congressional delegations. In this respect, the operation represented a clear example of the interaction of war and politics.
Given the political necessity of the Lake Erie campaign, there emerges the great conundrum of the summer of 1813. What if Chauncey had forwarded Perry sufficient manpower in July to allow the Americans to destroy the Royal Navy forces before the Detroit was finished? What if they arrived in time for Perry to cut off Procter’s retreat from the second Fort Meigs operation? Chauncey may have been strategically correct in his desire to make Lake Ontario the higher priority, but might his objectives not have been secured had he allowed the temporary transfer of men to Perry in early July? The month’s delay brought about by Chauncey’s reluctance to support the Lake Erie campaign might have been fatal to American chances in Upper Canada. What if Chauncey had followed his directives from Washington to concentrate on Lake Erie first? Chauncey lacked Sir Isaac Brock’s strategic and tactical imagination and willingness to take calculated risks; he left too much to mathematical calculations of comparative strength and too little to the interplay of chance and probabilities that distinguishes the great from the competent commander.
Consequences of the battle for the three senior officers surviving it were varied. For Robert Heriot Barclay, failure with gallantry brought few rewards. Formally promoted to commander after the battle, he never again found significant employment in the Royal Navy. A leading Canadian naval historian writes that in his national tradition “Barclay has a mixed reputation. Brave and not too bright might be a fair summary.” The principal criticism revolved around his failure to maintain the blockade at Presque Isle Bay and his unwillingness to attack Perry’s squadron on 4 August when he discovered them across the bar. No one has faulted his conduct on the day of the battle.57
A year after Barclay’s squadron sailed out of Amherstburg, a court-martial assembled on board HMS Gladiator in Portsmouth harbor, England. The court could not help but be sympathetic to a man who suffered eight wounds in His Majesty’s service. It made no inquiry into the reasons for Perry’s being able to cross the bar while Barclay was at Long Point. Instead, after hearing testimony relating to the engagement, Rear Admiral Edward James Foote pronounced the judgment:
That it appeared that the greatest Exertions had been made by Captain Barclay in equipping and getting into Order the Vessels under his Command, That he was fully justified under the existing Circumstances in bringing the Enemy to Action. That the Judgment and Gallantry of Captain Barclay, in taking his Squadron into Action during the Contest were highly conspicuous and entitled him to the highest praise, and that the whole of the other Officers and Men of His Majesty’s late Squadron conducted themselves in a most gallant Manner.58
Honorable acquittal brought limited honors. Like many veterans of the Napoleonic Wars, Barclay languished for ten years without a command. In 1824 he began an eight-month tour as commander of the bomb vessel Infernal. For this service Barclay received promotion to post captain, but he never again went to sea. He recovered from his wounds and married Agnes Cossar of Cupar, Fifeshire, Scotland. He retired to a house in Saxe-Cobourg Place, Edinburgh, and sired several children. Barclay frequently went swimming in the deep waters of Elie Harbor in Fife near the Barclay family home. His one arm (that wounded at Lake Erie) propelled him, the other being cut off just below the shoulder. He died on 8 May 1837 and was buried in Greyfriars Churchyard in Edinburgh beside two of his children.59
The British sought to dismiss the importance of the battle and to excuse one of their rare squadron defeats. In 1817, William James wrote a rationale for the British defeat on Lake Erie in his A Full and Correct Account of the Chief Naval Occurrences of the Late War between Great Britain and the United States of America. This British naval historian placed a majority of the blame on the Canadians—there was “not a seaman among them,” and none of the sailors “could speak English!”—as if that had anything to do with valor. They were mostly “peasants . . . sorry substitutes for British seamen.” No record of their long service on the Great Lakes in the Provincial Marine was noted. In fact, James declared, the few British seamen dispersed among the vessels mostly had to navigate them, rather than man the guns. He acknowledged that the British seamen from the troopship Dover “would have scarcely rated as ordinaries on board our regular ships of war.” Perry’s crews contained “picked sailors and riflemen.” James greatly exaggerated the number of Americans on board Perry’s fleet at 580 and reduced the British complement to a mere 345. He correctly described the logistical problems of the British, but he failed to acknowledge the supply advantages they enjoyed by controlling the lakes during 1812 and much of 1813. No opprobrium was awarded to Commodore Yeo for Barclay’s squadron being “wretchedly fitted out.” While James properly chastised the Americans for making more of this victory than it might represent, he filled his account more with excuses than with credits for Barclay and his diverse, but gallant, sailors and soldiers.60 Such an account brought little credit to the fortitude and bravery of those on either side.
Jesse Duncan Elliott never redeemed himself from the implications of nonsupport in Perry’s after-action report. Elliott never justified his failure to closely engage the Queen Charlotte to the satisfaction of the general public. Most of his contemporaries and all modern students of this engagement fault him for too rigorously keeping his position in the line of battle even after his designated opponent had gone forward to fight the American flagship.
Elliott failed to fulfill his principal obligation—to engage the Queen Charlotte in close combat. He allowed the Lawrence to suffer terribly while deliberately withholding from his commanding officer the support Perry so desperately needed. No unbiased observer would charge Elliott with cowardice; he exhibited bravery often both before and after the battle on Lake Erie. Envy of Perry, on the other hand, may have led to negligence. Whatever the rationale behind it, Elliott’s conduct that September afternoon would tarnish his career. For a crucial two hours, he allowed a strict obedience to one of his orders to overcome what should have been rational behavior in the situation in which he found himself. Elliott, unlike Vice Admiral Cuthbert Collingwood at Trafalgar, did not exhibit that initiative and judgment that distinguish the pedestrian from the inspired second-in-command. If Perry erred in impetuousness by going into action ahead of his following vessels, if he was at fault in not signaling his colleagues to come forward during the engagement, Elliott’s failure was greater. He did not follow Collingwood’s example and follow his commander into the heat of the action. The United States won the battle of Lake Erie despite Elliott’s conduct, but of greater significance is that more Americans and probably more British and Canadians died because of his delinquency.
The animosity between Perry and Elliott grew over the years. In 1815, for instance, Purser Hambleton reported from Washington that Elliott was in town disposed to injure Perry’s reputation. Hambleton refused to believe Elliott “has made any proselytes. . . . I know the wretch is too contemptible to mention as of much consequence—but he may emit some poison.”61 However, Elliott secured a court of inquiry to review a newspaper article reporting that at the Barclay court-martial, Elliott was described as “making away” from the battle before Perry boarded the Niagara. Because the statement allegedly “misrepresented” Elliott’s conduct, Secretary of the Navy Benjamin Crowninshield directed the court of inquiry to develop a “full statement of the facts in relation to” Elliott’s activities at the battle. Since Lieutenants Smith and Edwards and Purser Magrath were deceased by this time, Elliott’s witnesses before the court were very junior in rank, some being noncommissioned officers. Only two junior officers of the Lawrence appeared before the court held in New York. Perry was not called, even though he lived nearby in Newport at the time. None of the witnesses testified that Elliott had attempted to leave the scene of the battle. The court regretted that “there should have been any diversity of opinion respecting the events of that day, and imperious duty compels the Court to promulgate testimony that appears materially to vary in some of its important points.” Nonetheless, the court concluded “that attempts to wrest from Capt. Elliott the laurels he gained in that splendid victory . . . ought in no wise to lessen him in the opinion of his fellow citizens as a brave and skillful officer, and that the charge made in the proceedings of the British Court Martial . . . of [Elliott’s] attempting to withdraw from the battle is malicious and unfounded in fact.”62
The findings placated Elliott, who remained quiet until he was promoted to captain in 1818. Then the quarrel between the two captains broke out again. Elliott secured certificates from three friends purporting Perry to be impugning Elliott’s reputation. At the same time, Perry, recently returned from a Mediterranean cruise, drew criticism for an ugly incident in which he injudiciously slapped marine captain John Heath. This act eventually resulted in a no-injury duel between the two. Taking advantage of his equality in rank and Perry’s situation, Elliott chose this opportunity to write Perry in 1818 that he had suffered many wrongs at Perry’s hands, including these new “base, false, and malicious reports.”63
Perry replied with an embittered response:
It is humiliating to be under the necessity of replying to any letter written by a person who so little knows what becomes a gentleman. . . . [Y]ou made me fully sensible of the error I had committed in endeavouring to prop so unprincipled a character. . . . The reputation you lost . . . was tarnished by your own behavior on Lake Erie and has constantly been rendered more desperate by your subsequent folly and habitual falshood [sic]. . . . Mean and despicable as you have proved yourself to be; I shall never cease to criminate myself for having deviated from the path of strict propriety, for the sake of skreening [sic] you from public contempt and indignation. . . . But that you, of all men should exultingly charge me with an error committed in your favour . . . is a degree of turpitude of which I had before no conception. . . . [I]t is indeed unfortunate that intentions for which you give yourself so great credit have evapourated in a pitiful letter which none but a base and vulgar man could dictate.64
As one could easily expect, Perry’s fulmination induced Elliott to remonstrate that he felt “no disposition to procrastinate this business by a useless waste of paper. I must resort to some other weapon more potent than a pen . . . and teach you all that your former low and ungentlemanly acts shall not shield you from the chastisement you merit.”65
Refusing Elliott’s challenge to a duel, Perry became so exacerbated that he drew up court-martial papers against his former subordinate. He made six charges: (1) “conduct unbecoming an officer by entering upon and pursuing a series of intrigues, designed to repair his own reputation at the expense and sacrifice of his . . . commanding officer”; (2) “conduct unbecoming an officer, and manifesting disregard of the honour of the American flag”; (3) oppressing “certain officers and men under his command on Lake Erie”; (4) failing to exercise “his utmost exertion to carry into execution the orders of his commanding officer to join in the battle . . . between the American and British fleets”; (5) “through cowardice, negligence, or disaffection, [Elliott] did not in said action,. . . do his utmost to take or destroy the vessel of the enemy which it was his duty to encounter”; and (6) “through cowardice, negligence, or disaffection [Elliott] did not do his utmost endeavour to afford relief to the United States’ brig Lawrence.”66
Secretary Crowninshield and President James Monroe did not want two of the nation’s most acclaimed heroes to confront one another in a public court. Such a trial would air dirty linen and bring the navy into disrepute. We do not know entirely what happened, but the charges were not pressed to trial.
Perhaps James Fenimore Cooper came the closest to an answer. Officially, Perry was not a commodore on Lake Erie although most of his contemporaries referred to him as such. He was merely the senior officer of the Lake Erie squadron, part of a Great Lakes fleet under Commodore Chauncey’s command. This is why both Perry and Elliott were entitled to the same amount of prize money, although Congress authorized Perry a $5,000 bonus that almost equalized his share with Chauncey’s. Cooper noted that Crowninshield visited Perry in New York in early 1819. Cooper speculated that the secretary of the navy offered Perry command of a squadron to negotiate trading agreements with Venezuela, and with it an opportunity to fly a commodore’s broad pennant in exchange for withdrawal of the charges. Was such an offer enough to placate Perry, at least for a while? Did Crowninshield bring the charges with him and hand them to Perry, thereby removing them from official Navy Department files? All we know is that the charges left governmental possession and ended up in the hands of Benjamin Hazard, one of Perry’s Rhode Island relatives. Perry’s death on the Venezuela expedition in 1819 meant the charges could not be acted upon. After Perry’s death, Hazard forwarded the papers to Stephen Decatur in Washington, D.C. Their presence in Commodore Decatur’s hands remained a Damocles sword over Elliott’s reputation. In 1820, Elliott seconded Commodore James Barron in a duel with Decatur. The death of Decatur in this encounter so embittered his widow against Elliott that she published Perry’s charges and brought a hitherto obscure navy quarrel to public notice.67
Elliott’s reputation never recovered. His foes constantly badgered him throughout the remainder of his career. Even a skillful defense of his conduct on 10 September 1813 written by James Fenimore Cooper could not save him.68 Although he eventually became a U.S. Navy commodore, Jesse Duncan Elliott is one of the very few pre–Civil War officers of that rank never to have a U.S. Navy vessel named in his honor. Elliott died in Philadelphia in 1845 still seeking the personal redemption he would never secure.
Oliver Hazard Perry became a national hero. “We have met the enemy and they are ours” became one of the great slogans of the young American navy. President Madison promoted him to captain with an effective date of rank on 10 September. For this “signal victory,” Perry had streets, townships, towns, counties, and babies named in his honor. Perry, along with comrades-in-arms Stephen Decatur, Thomas Macdonough, and Isaac Hull, became an inspiration to subsequent U.S. Navy officers as the archetypal fighting commander. Perry has been frequently honored by vessels named after him and his victory. Today a group of fast frigates are known as the “Perry class” after the USS Oliver Hazard Perry (FFG-7), and the guided-missile cruiser USS Lake Erie (CG-70) honors the battle itself. Perry’s battle flag hangs in Memorial Hall at the U.S. Naval Academy to inspire the midshipmen. Even the negative connotation of “Don’t Give Up the Ship” has become a motto of positive inspiration to the navy. Despite his impetuosity, despite his excessive concentration on fighting his flagship rather than his squadron (he has been described as a better captain than commodore), Oliver Hazard Perry remains an exemplary fighting officer. On 10 September 1813 he undertook the awesome task of commanding a task force in battle. On that day, all his training, all his experience, all his devotion to country and service confronted the ultimate responsibility of combat command. Against a tenacious foe, this young commodore bequeathed a legacy of combat leadership to future generations of naval officers.
Although expressing a certain amount of hyperbole, Secretary William Jones described the achievement of Perry and his men as “a victory so transcendently brilliant, decisive, and important in its consequences” as to elicit “demonstrations of joy and admiration” among his countrymen throughout the nation.69 In many ways it was the “signal victory” that Perry described. It signaled the end of the British-Indian alliance that had frustrated American settlement of the Old Northwest for more than three decades. It signaled the demise of Indian title to the region’s land and the eventual resettlement of most of the Middle Western tribes west of the Mississippi River. It signaled the emergence of the United States Navy as a determined and competent force amongst the world’s fleets. It signaled the beginning of American military logistical expertise that has been a hallmark of U.S. forces to this day. Strategically, because the British, Canadians, and Indians delayed for so long the American triumph on the upper lakes, it signaled the exclusion of British North America from the United States’ “Manifest Destiny.” Lastly, it signaled the beginning of an American-British rapprochement that would eventually result in the creation of the longest unfortified border in the world. For that reason, it is most appropriate that the Doric column on South Bass Island that honors this triumph of American arms is known as the Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial.