Lighting the FuseLighting the Fuse
REAR ADM. GEORGE COCKBURN had a pair of objectives in mind when he took command of the Chesapeake blockade. First and foremost, he wanted to capture or destroy the American frigate Constellation, which was blockaded in Norfolk, seemingly ripe for the picking. His second objective was somewhat less concrete. Cockburn had orders not only to reconnoiter local defenses but also to establish a safe place to supply the squadron and to enlist the help of local pilots in charting the treacherous inlets and coves up and down the Chesapeake.
He decided to tackle both problems at once. On March 3, 1813, Cockburn ordered Capt. George Burdett with the frigate Maidstone and the sloops Laurestinus and Fantome “to proceed up the Chesapeake for the annoyance of the enemy.” Burdett’s job was twofold. First, he was to sink or capture any privateers he met. Second, and of more importance, Burdett was to find supplies for the British squadron. Cockburn, meanwhile, set his sights on Norfolk and the Constellation.
Charles Stewart was well aware the Constellation was a major prize. The Philadelphia native was a close friend of Stephen Decatur and Richard Somers in his youth and remained close to Decatur after Somers’ gallant and tragic death in 1804 during the First Barbary War. Stewart knew the British wanted not only his ship but Norfolk as well. The strategic port controlled one of the exits of the Chesapeake and would give them a major base at which they could resupply and repair damaged vessels.
Almost as soon as Stewart got the Constellation into Norfolk on February 4, he began to build up the defenses around the vessel. He had the help of Virginia’s governor, James Barbour, who ordered the 54th Regiment of Virginia militia to march to Norfolk. Barbour also ordered rifleman, artillery, and cavalry companies to the city from as far away as Richmond and Petersburg.1 The governor placed Brig. Gen. Robert B. Taylor in command of the city’s defenses. A noted lawyer, Taylor had acted as Commodore James Barron’s defense counsel during his court-martial following the Chesapeake-Leopard incident. Taylor’s second in command was Littleton W. Tazewell, the judge advocate general at the court-martial.
Within a week Taylor had mustered a force of 1,500 men to defend Norfolk. He received still more reinforcements when a company of Regulars from the U.S. Army 7th Infantry Regiment arrived to garrison Fort Nelson. Taylor ordered Norfolk’s militia to man Fort Norfolk, the other of the two forts that guarded the entrance to the Elizabeth River, Portsmouth, and the Gosport Navy Yard in Norfolk. Militia also took up positions on Craney Island, a low sandbank at the mouth of the river. Although much of Taylor’s force was composed of new draftees subject only to a three-month tour of duty, their presence convinced Cockburn to delay any assault.2
By the beginning of March, however, the British admiral had decided it was time to attack. On March 9 Stewart moved the Constellation from the navy yard to a spot off Craney Island and joined forces with a squadron of the gunboats stationed there to protect the engineers who were strengthening the island’s fortifications.3 Cockburn learned about the move and on March 10 arrived off Hampton Roads with the Marlborough, Dragon, Victorious, Acasta, and Junon. He took up a position about four miles north of the Constellation and waited. Also waiting at the roads was a Portuguese vessel, the brig Princeza, which had spent a week at the mouth of the Chesapeake at the end of February after stumbling on the British blockade. Now outbound for Lisbon from Baltimore, the Princeza was once more delayed as the British prepared to attack Norfolk. Portugal was a British ally, and Cockburn put a party of sailors on the brig as lookouts to sound the alarm should the Constellation try to break out. An American passenger on the Princeza, on overhearing the British sailors talking about the American frigate, managed to slip away and warn Stewart that Cockburn planned a night attack. The attack, however, fizzled as a result of fog and drizzle.4
The next day the captain of the Princeza visited Stewart. The British had allowed the Portuguese brig into Norfolk to offload her cargo, but the captain, incensed at being stopped twice by the Royal Navy, told Stewart that Cockburn still planned a night raid to capture the Constellation and would come that night. Forewarned, Stewart alerted Taylor and prepared his defenses, which included boarding nets outstretched over the gunwales so they could be dropped down to trap British boats and sailors that approached the frigate.5
At 10 p.m. on March 11, Cockburn ordered his ships’ boats under the command of George Westphal, the first lieutenant on the Marlborough, to head toward the Constellation. The attack was to take place at ebb tide, when the current would swing the frigate’s stern toward the oncoming British ships and open a gap between the Constellation and the screen of gunboats protecting her. The two lead boats, fitted with Congreve rockets, were to fire the weapons into the American frigate’s stern, and a boarding party would storm on board during the uproar and confusion of the rocket attack. A separate detachment of boats was to attack the gunboats. Just as the British launched their boats, a strong southerly wind sprang up and slowed their advance. The wind and a strong tide combined to separate the British boats. Westphal tried to regroup, but the wind proved too strong; at daybreak he ordered the boats back to the squadron.6
The Constellation remained off Craney Island until March 17, when Stewart returned to Norfolk with the frigate and the gunboats and anchored under the guns of Fort Nelson and Fort Norfolk. Stewart scuttled four vessels to block the channel at Lambert Point, the way in to the Constellation’s anchorage. That move all but ended the threat of a seaborne attempt to take the Constellation, but it also bottled up one of America’s primary warships for the rest of the war.7 It did not, however, prevent either side from engaging on the water.
On March 20 Stewart decided to attack the Junon after the 36-gun frigate had moved away from the main British squadron to guard boats heading up the James River and had become becalmed. Stewart ordered nine gunboats to the attack, but the British reacted quickly at their approach and sent out a swarm of boats to take the Junon under tow. The British tars successfully pulled the Junon back under the protective guns of Cockburn’s flotilla. Cockburn quickly struck back. That night the admiral ordered a force of six hundred sailors and marines to attack the gunboats that had tried to attack the Junon. Finding the gunboats anchored out of reach and with low tide approaching, however, the force gave up and rowed back to the flotilla.8
Burdett, meanwhile, had found a way to get the supplies Cockburn needed by capturing local merchant ships. The same day Cockburn made his first effort to capture the Constellation, Burdett captured three ships off Mob-jack Bay, on the Virginia side of the bay opposite Cape Charles. One of the vessels carried more than six hundred tons of beef and pork, which Burdett sent on to the squadron.
Captures, however, were only part of the supply equation. Cockburn was willing to pay market price for food and other supplies, and he believed—rightly as it turned out—that Federalist and antiwar sentiment was high enough in Maryland’s Eastern Shore that he could buy what he needed locally. Cockburn apparently already had at least one sympathizer among the local population. On March 13 he wrote to Warren, “I am not without hope that the squadron may be furnished . . . from the upper part of the Chesapeake with supplies of cattle and vegetables, a person having been engaged to send me such but whether he will . . . elude the great vigilance of the American government is extremely doubtful.”9
From the speed with which he made the arrangement, it appears Cockburn was in contact with at least some antiwar residents prior to his arrival in the Chesapeake. He alluded to this in secret orders he sent to his captains that “vessels coming down the Chesapeake, which, on approaching any of His Majesty’s Ships, hoist a white flag, instead of an ensign, will be loaded with supplies of cattle and vegetables for this squadron.” Cockburn also went to great pains to protect his local suppliers, telling his officers, “Care is to be taken to prevent as much as possible any particular remark or observation towards them from the shore and no part of their cargoes is on any account to be taken out of them during daylight.”10
It was the start of what would come to characterize Cockburn’s campaign in the Chesapeake. The wily British admiral tried to stoke antiwar sentiment on both sides of the bay, essentially attempting to foment a civil war of sorts among the populace. He made clear he would destroy any war materiel he found but promised to leave unmolested the farms and livestock of those who helped the British. He also offered rewards for information and promised to pay full market price for any supplies his troops confiscated. Individuals or towns that resisted the British, however, faced a different fate. Cockburn promised to classify any community that refused to cooperate as a fortified post and its men as soldiers. As such, the admiral said, he would raze the towns and take all the males as prisoners in addition to confiscating all supplies.11
Cockburn made the war even more of a personal affair for slaveholders up and down the bay. Slaveholders in Maryland and Virginia might attempt to portray slavery as a benevolent institution, but they lived always in fear of a slave rebellion. Although the British had explicit orders not to incite a slave revolt, which England believed would be counterproductive, Cockburn could and did offer incentives to slaves to flee their masters, including freedom to any who managed to reach the British. Cockburn had orders to transport runaway slaves to Canada or Bermuda; or they could enlist in special black regiments.12
Both the Americans and the British underestimated the power of that offer. Slaveholders seemingly had forgotten the response to a similar offer Sir Henry Clinton made during the Revolutionary War, when nearly 100,000 slaves flocked to British colors, although the British made no effort to end the practice of slavery. Whether because they remembered or simply responded to the opportunity, the slaves’ response to the British offer of freedom was dramatic. Charles Ball, himself a runaway slave who served with American forces, reported that one plantation owner lost a hundred slaves in one night. “In the morning when the overseer arose, and went to call his hands to the field, he found only empty cabins.”13
Slaveholders quickly attempted to reach an accord with Cockburn. They sent emissaries to the British asking for the return of their “property,” which the British had unjustly confiscated. Cockburn’s response was to take a jab at both the war hawks and the practice of slavery, telling slaveholders they were welcome to ask their slaves to return to bondage, adding, “I fear that they are not likely to succeed.”14 The British did allow representatives of slaveholders to meet with the runaways. It was usually the same scene. The white men would speak to the Africans “in softened accents about the cause of their desertion,” to which the now former slaves would give “some quaint and home spun reply.”15 The white men almost always left empty-handed because the former slaves had “their heads filled with notions of liberty and happiness” on some island in the West Indies.16
Adm. Sir John Warren returned to take command of the British squadron in late March, bringing with him the San Domingo, Ramilles, Statira, Orpheus, the brig Mohawk, and the captured American privateer schooner Highflyer. With the augmented squadron he initiated his plan to take the war into the northern part of the Chesapeake while maintaining a strong blockade of the bay.
The activities of both blockade-runners and blockaders were predictable. Anytime a northerly breeze sprang up, dozens of American ships tried to run the gauntlet of British ships. Many made it past the blockade, and many did not. From February 18 to March 22, 1813, the British grabbed thirty-five prizes trying to break out of the Chesapeake while also sharpening their skills in making small-boat attacks.
Warren ordered the squadron north on April 2. He planned a two-pronged effort, keeping his 74-gun ships of the line in the deeper water in the center of the bay, flanked by the frigates, while his growing flotilla of brigs and schooners—most captured from the Americans—worked inshore. The large warships were the first prong. They would deny the Americans the open water of the Chesapeake. The small boats were the second prong. These boats and their crews would operate inshore as well as up and down the many creeks, inlets, and bays, taking the war to the interior country of Maryland and Virginia. When the British came to New Point Comfort near the mouth of the Rappahannock River on the Virginia side of the bay, the Royal Navy gave the Americans an example of what Warren expected to accomplish.
New Point Comfort was a natural harbor that provided some protection from the occasionally capricious winds on the lower bay. On April 2, four American privateer schooners ducked into the anchorage for the night. Then Warren’s squadron appeared. The American captains attempted to escape up the Rappahannock almost the instant they saw the masts of the British ships. Warren ordered the Mohawk, Fantome, Highflyer, and fourteen boats from the squadron to pursue the four schooners.
Apparently unaware of how adept the British sailors and marines had become at handling their small boats, the Americans anchored for the night across from the mouth of the Corrotoman River, eight miles from the mouth of the Rappahannock. The British boatmen rowed through the night, covering the eight miles by daybreak. Both sides could now see each other in the increasing light. The privateer captains used sweeps to move their ships into a line, presenting their broadsides to the British.
The defensive alignment failed to deter Lt. James Scott and Lt. George Urmston, who led the British force. “Our enemies were drawn up in battle array,” Scott recalled. “The Stars and Stripes were floating proudly at their peaks . . . their guns were run out, and all prepared to receive us.”17 The two lieutenants had the barge from the Marlborough, armed with a 12-pound carronade, along with 4 other boats and 105 men under their immediate command. They feinted toward the center of the line of schooners before they bored in on the rearmost, signaling the other boat crews to pick their own targets.18
The four schooners—the Arab, Lynx, Racer, and Dolphin—loosed broadsides at Scott’s and Urmston’s boats but missed. The captain of the Arab, Daniel Fitch, ordered his crew to roll-tack the schooner and bring her other broadside to bear on the oncoming British boats. The maneuver opened a gap between the Arab and the Lynx, the next boat in line, and the Arab then shuddered to a halt as she grounded on a shoal.19
Scott and Urmston immediately came alongside, and British sailors and marines swarmed onto the Arab’s deck with cutlasses, pistols, and pikes. Fitch and his crew put up no fight, diving overboard to avoid capture and leaving the British in command of the Arab.
The capture of the Arab put the other three privateer schooners at a severe disadvantage because it removed one of the anchor ships of the battle line. A general melee ensued as the remaining British boats launched their own attacks. Lt. James Polkinghorne of the San Domingo led a boatful of sailors and Royal Marines straight for the 6-gun privateer Lynx. The red-coated marines maintained steady musket fire while the sailors pulled for the schooner. The Lynx’s crew of thirty-five men under Capt. Elisha Taylor returned fire with grape and canister, but once more the American gunners missed their target, allowing the British to come alongside. Even before Polkinghorne could lead his men onto the deck of the Lynx, Taylor hauled down his flag and surrendered.20
Polkinghorne next attacked the 6-gun privateer Racer, the third ship in the line. His men rushed onto the deck and overwhelmed the twenty-eight-man crew, forcing Capt. Daniel Chayton to surrender. The British then turned to the last American ship, the 12-gun privateer Dolphin.21 Polkinghorne had his sailors man three of the Racer’s cannon and turn them on the Dolphin to cover the approach of Lt. George Bishop with twenty-two men from the Statira and Lt. Matthew Liddon of the Maidstone with twenty men. The cannon fire from the Racer distracted the Dolphin’s ninety-eight-man crew long enough to allow Bishop and Liddon to come up on her starboard side and board her. The privateers outnumbered the British two to one and fought desperately to keep their ship. Bishop and Liddon led multiple charges across the deck only to have the Americans push them back. Despite their superior numbers, the privateers could not stand up to the sustained assaults from the British professionals, however, and they began to waver. The Americans finally surrendered after a spent 12-pound shot from the Racer ricocheted off a bulwark and knocked their captain, William Stafford, unconscious. Six Americans and two Englishmen died in the fight.22
The entire engagement lasted slightly more than four hours. The British reported two dead and eleven wounded, including Polkinghorne and Royal Marine lieutenant William Brand.23 The surgeon on the Dolphin, however, claimed the British lost upward of fifty men and asserted American cannon fire had sunk two of the British boats. Warren’s report made no mention of losing boats. The Americans reported six dead, ten wounded, and more than fifty captured.24 The British took the four privateers into service as tenders, commissioning the Lynx and Racer as the Mosquitobit and Shelbourne respectively.
On April 6 the British used their new vessels to trap seven schooners and two brigs at the mouth of the Rappahannock. The four captured schooners, all flying American flags, entered the small bay in which they had been captured four days earlier and found more vessels lying at anchor. A local pilot recognized the Racer as a Baltimore ship and hailed her, asking whether her captain had seen the British. “Yes,” Lieutenant Scott answered, “they are coming up the bay.” Scott sent the Shelbourne (formerly Racer) to starboard of the Americans, the Mosquitobit (formerly Lynx) to port, and kept the Arab and Dolphin in the center. When the American ships were surrounded, the British raised the royal ensign and opened fire, unnerving the American crews, who abandoned their vessels. The British took fifteen ships as prizes that day, but a nasty gale blew in that night and drove five of them aground. The British burned the remainder of the boats and continued their journey north.25
Admiral Warren followed a brutally simple strategy as he moved his squadron up the Chesapeake, using his flotilla of captured vessels to drive every American ship from the lower and middle parts of the bay. Any captain who resisted found himself under attack by boats full of Royal Navy sailors and marines. Warren’s advance spread panic among residents living on the shoreline and near the mouths of rivers. Farmers removed their livestock, crops, and personal property to prevent the British from confiscating it. Home guard units sprang up all along the bay, devising a system of emergency alarms for common defense.26
The farther north the British moved, the more personal the war became for both inhabitants and invaders. The British boat crews often operated miles away from the main force and engaged local militia in short skirmishes. In an exchange on April 12, Lt. George Hutchinson’s boat crew from the Dolphin captured a schooner carrying oak planks in the Choptank River, northeast of Cambridge on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Local militia attacked the British while they were unloading the prize. Hutchison lost the schooner but killed four militiamen in the battle.27
Inhabitants who failed to adhere to Cockburn’s strict terms suffered the consequences. When the British anchored off Sharps Island on April 12, for example, Jacob Gibson, a prosperous farmer and politician who lived on the island, decided to defy Warren’s edict. Gibson fled up the Miles River to St. Michaels on the Maryland Eastern Shore and raised the alarm, but later returned to his farm to remove as much of his property as he could. When he arrived home, he found the British already in possession. Gibson told the British he had no involvement with the militia or local defenses, and the invaders took only half of his livestock. In a letter to Secretary of State James Monroe, Gibson complained that although the British gave him a small cash payment for what they took, it was not enough to cover his losses. “I was treated by all the officers, but particularly by the admiral (Warren) with marked politeness and delicacy,” he wrote to Monroe. “The purser of the admiral’s ship left on the island $54.00 in specie and informed me he should leave bills on his government for the balance of the stock taken.”
Gibson managed to hide the fact that he had warned St. Michaels of the presence of Warren’s fleet, but when he presented a pair of 6-pounder cannon to the local militia regiment, the British got word of his double-dealing. After leaving the island on April 13, he returned several weeks later to find his farm completely stripped. Although the British left another $40 in cash and a government bill for $133, Gibson estimated his losses at more than $1,200.28
As Warren replenished his provisions by raiding farms, Cockburn arrived off Annapolis on April 15 with the Marlborough and a flotilla of smaller vessels, throwing the city into an uproar. Only two small forts guarded the entrance to the harbor of the Maryland state capital, with garrisons of at most thirty Regulars. Cockburn first anchored near Kent Island but soon dispatched his boats to sound the harbor and reconnoiter the defenses. He sent the Fantome up the Severn River, and she anchored above Annapolis, blocking the river.
The arrival of the British force off his capital shocked Governor Winder. He called out the militia and sent crucial state papers inland to Upper Marlboro before writing to President Madison and Secretary of War John Armstrong pleading for help. In a strongly worded letter, Winder told Monroe and Armstrong it was their constitutional duty to protect the states from foreign invasion. He said Annapolis was essentially defenseless and demanded the federal government send a regiment of Regular Army troops as well as fourteen cannon to bolster the defenses of the two forts that protected the city. Winder never received a reply—reinforcing the belief, at least in Maryland, that Madison’s government would not aid Federalists.29
Cockburn had no intention of attacking Annapolis, at least not yet. Instead, he continued pushing north, planning to test the defenses around Baltimore. The city remained a thorn in the side of the British. Despite the blockade, privateers continued to outfit at Baltimore and sneak into the Atlantic, where they wreaked havoc with British convoys. In addition, the British viewed the city as the principal locale on the upper bay capable of building ships that could potentially challenge the Royal Navy. With the Constellation bottled up in Norfolk, Cockburn wanted to keep the Chesapeake clear of enemy warships.
The British squadron arrived off the mouth of the Patapsco River on April 17. Cockburn spotted a group of ten small schooners anchored upriver and a lone gunboat under the guns of Fort McHenry. Cockburn ordered the Marlborough, Maidstone, and Statira to send their boats to attack the schooners. The American captains raised anchor and sails when they saw the cutters and barges approaching, but the adept British crews, along with a contrary wind and strong current, foiled their escape attempt. The British captured all ten of the vessels, which were loaded with firewood. Cockburn’s men eagerly snapped up the firewood, which was running low in the squadron.30
Cockburn spent four days reconnoitering the defenses around Baltimore, which appeared open to attack. He established a watering point at Poole’s Island, which would remain unmolested until the end of the war, and pushed as far up the Patapsco as he dared, charting the coastline and taking soundings. The more he saw, the more certain he became that his force could easily take Baltimore. When Admiral Warren arrived on April 21, Cockburn urged his commander to attack the city. Warren, however, refused. In a letter to the Admiralty, Warren said he was “convinced of the impossibility of the frigates of the squadron approaching the town and shipping, without the forts and batteries upon the river being carried by a corps of troops . . . and being of the opinion that it would be an unwise measure to risk the ships of the line . . . I stood down.” Although he decided against an immediate attack, Warren told his superiors, “From every observation it has been in my power to make . . . I never saw any country so vulnerable, so open to attack or that affords the means to support [supply] an enemy’s force.”
Cockburn was decidedly unhappy with his commander’s decision. Indeed, had Warren known the actual state of Baltimore’s defenses he might have allowed Cockburn to attack. The entire garrison in the city amounted to a handful of Regulars manning Fort McHenry and two thousand untrained militiamen in the city proper. Warren had orders from the Admiralty to avoid a major land battle to prevent the British from suffering a Yorktown-like defeat. The most likely reason for Warren’s decision not to attack, however, was that he saw no need to mount a major land assault. His squadron was taking many prizes, and Warren did not want to divert any resources from that important—and lucrative—aspect of his campaign. He did not bother to inform the Admiralty of his decision not to attack Baltimore until he returned to Bermuda in May. His letter did not reach London until July 8.31
Frustrated in his desire to attack Baltimore, Cockburn pressed north with his flotilla. As his ships neared Havre de Grace at the mouth of the Susquehanna River, he began to run into more and more resistance. The tenders from the Mohawk and Fantome engaged militia units assembled along the shore to fire on the barges and cutters full of Royal Navy sailors and Royal Marines that preceded the larger vessels. Cockburn sailed south from Havre de Grace and entered the Elk River, on the east side of the bay. Frenchtown, an important supply point about thirteen miles up the Elk, was an obvious target.
Lt. George Westphal of the Marlborough led a group of 150 marines in barges toward the hamlet. Militiamen fired several small cannon at the barges but failed to hit them. When the barges, armed with 12-pound carronades, returned fire, the militia fled toward Elkton, about two miles north. On entering Frenchtown the marines found a tavern, two storehouses, and stables. The “town” was little more than a waypoint—albeit a strategic one—on the road from Baltimore to Philadelphia. It had become even more important as the British blockade forced more and more goods to move overland. One of the storehouses was stuffed with Army uniforms, cavalry saddles, bridles, military equipment, flour, and general merchandise. Westphal ordered his men to confiscate everything they could carry; then the British burned the storehouses along with a pair of schooners anchored at a small wharf. The inhabitants never rebuilt the town.
Westphal’s men reembarked and pulled upriver toward Elkton. Three forts—Fort Defiance, Fort Frederick, and Fort Hollingsworth—defended the approaches. As the British rowed into view, they spotted the well-defended lower two forts (Defiance and Frederick), and Westphal wisely withdrew back down the river. He reported his activities and the presence of militia to Cockburn. The admiral noted the activity and decided to reprovision his squadron before his next foray. Cockburn had learned of a large amount of livestock on Spesutie Island, on the western side of the bay below Havre de Grace, and he landed a force of six hundred sailors and Royal Marines that scooped up everything with feathers or four legs. The presence of the British on the island brought out the bravado of the local defenders, who fired on the British barges from a newly built battery at Havre de Grace. Cockburn decided if the town was worth defending, it was also worth attacking.32
Command of the expedition to attack Havre de Grace fell to Westphal, whose force of five hundred sailors and marines shoved off in their barges and cutters around midnight on May 2 from the northern bank of the Susquehanna. Westphal armed one of the barges with Congreve rockets and used it as the lead vessel. Although notoriously inaccurate, the rockets were potent psychological weapons because they made an eerie screeching sound as they flew from their launching ramps. Each rocket carried a 12-pound charge, and although they were not particularly effective when fired at individual guns or bodies of troops, they were excellent anti-materiel weapons that could set wooden buildings on fire.
Defending the town were elements of the 42nd Maryland Regiment of militia, comprised mostly of men from Harford County. Two companies—one of ninety-eight men under the command of Capt. Thomas Courtney, the other of seventy-one men under Capt. William Whiteford—had hastily erected a small battery on the Susquehanna side of the town. As Westphal approached the south shore of the river, his rocket barge came under heavy fire from the battery.
The British immediately opened up with rockets and carronades and chased off the militia. Once his boat touched shore, Westphal leaped onto the bank with a handful of marines and chased the fleeing militia. Finding the cannon abandoned, he turned the guns on their former owners. Pressing forward, Westphal captured a militia private and took his horse, using it to chase down John O’Neill, the last man to leave the battery, who was busy trying to rally the fleeing militia, crying, “Damn it men, return! We can certainly beat the rascals off!”33
When Westphal rode up to O’Neill on the captured horse, the American was confused and asked whether Westphal was English or American. The Royal Navy officer yelled, “An Englishman you Yankee rascals!” Westphal drew his pistol and demanded O’Neill’s surrender. When the American refused, Westphal pulled the trigger, but his pistol misfired. O’Neill managed to get off a shot from his musket that hit Westphal in one hand, but the Royal Navy officer drew his sword with his good hand and took O’Neill prisoner.34 O’Neill would later receive plaudits as the only militiaman who actually stood up to the British during the battle.35
Westphal and his force entered Havre de Grace and began setting fire to nearly every building they saw. The stately tavern of Richard Mansfield was the first to go up in flames, followed by the home of Roxana Moore, a widow. Moore at first refused to leave her house, telling Westphal she would not make her children homeless. Westphal replied he would burn the house down with her in it if she preferred. Moore left, but she and her neighbors were able to snuff out the flames each time the British tried to torch her home. The British finally gave up trying and moved on to burn the rest of the town.36
Exactly what occurred on May 3 in Havre de Grace remains a point of contention. Admiral Cockburn, in his official report, said that after the defending militia fled to the woods outside the town, his force set “fire to some of the houses to cause the proprietors (who had deserted them and formed part of the militia who had fled into the woods) to understand and feel what they were liable to bring upon themselves by building batteries and acting toward us with so much useless rancor. I embarked in the boats the guns from the battery . . . having also destroyed 130 stand of arms.”37
Americans, however, claimed the British looted and pillaged everything of value, from clothing, hats, and furniture to plates and silverware. Jared Sparks, a local historian who was in Havre de Grace the day of the attack, blasted the invaders in his account:
The conduct of the sailors while on shore was exceedingly rude and wanton. The officers gave such of the inhabitants as remained behind the liberty to carry out such articles of furniture as they chose, while the sailors were plundering their houses, but the sailors, not content with pillaging and burning, broke and defaced these also, as they were standing in the streets. . . . Little can be said, indeed, in favor of the officers’ conduct in this particular. They selected tables and bureaus for their private use, and after writing their names on them, placed them on board the barges. . . . But the most distressing part of the scene was at the close of day, when those who fled in the morning returned to witness the desolation of their homes and the ruin of all their possessions.38
No matter which account is the more correct, the British clearly took out their wrath on Havre de Grace and burned most of it to the ground. They fired Congreve rockets at buildings apparently solely for the joy of watching the rockets slam into buildings and set them on fire. They also took everything of value they could find, stripping the town bare.
The work complete, Cockburn pushed up the Northeast River and destroyed the Principio Foundry—one of the few in the United States capable of casting cannon—and then wrecked the casting machinery and disabled the five 24-pounder guns that protected the foundry, along with twenty-eight 32-pounders ready for shipment and eight cannon and four carronades that were in various stages of manufacture. The British finally withdrew from the area around 10 p.m., leaving behind a scorched district and a population itching for revenge.39