WHILE PORTER WAS DEALING WITH HIS OTHER PROBLEMS, the possibility of a mutiny was ever present. During the first two weeks of November 1813, a number of British prisoners organized an escape, as it was their duty to do. They planned to seize Essex Junior and slip away during the night of November 14, the very day, as it turned out, that Fort Madison was completed. Porter discovered their plan days before, and he was furious. He had been deluding himself that his liberal treatment of the prisoners, especially when compared to Britain’s rough handling of American seamen, had brought them over to his side, and they would never attempt an escape. “They had all been permitted to go on shore and on board the different vessels whenever they wished,” he wrote bitterly, “on a promise of conducting themselves with propriety, and not absenting themselves so that they could not be found; they were, in fact, admitted on parole, and all restrictions removed.”
A seaman named Lawson, formerly a mate on the Sir Andrew Hammond, led them. He planned to get the crew of Essex Junior drunk on rum mixed with the drug laudanum. Prisoners on the beach were to seize canoes, row out to the ship, board, take her, and put to sea. If complete surprise was achieved, no other ship would be ready to pursue them, and the Essex, with no powder aboard, would be helpless to stop them.
The plan was workable, but Porter knew about it almost from the moment it was hatched. Two sentinels, who were guarding the rum, were helping Lawson, and Porter had discovered their activities. Disturbed by what he found, he punished the sentinels severely. He then put the crews and marines on high alert, and warned the marines that if the next neglect of duty merited death, he would not hesitate to shoot the offender. They knew he meant it.
The following evening, Porter discovered just such a neglect and reacted angrily. He was in bed (but not asleep) at the time, and did not hear the marine in the bake house call out “all’s well” as he should have. Porter asked why, and the sergeant of the guard, upon investigating, found the marine fast asleep with his musket beside him. Without disturbing the hapless fellow, the sergeant reported back to Porter who grabbed a pistol. With the sergeant and a guard, he strode to the bake house, gripping his weapon. When he arrived, the unfortunate marine was still asleep with the musket by his side. Porter had him seized up and shot him in the fleshy part of the thigh.
Despite the fracas, Lawson still planned to escape on Sunday night, November 14. But as luck would have it, on the afternoon of the previous day, lookouts had seen an unidentified ship at the mouth of the harbor, and Porter sent Lieutenant Downes in Essex Junior to see who she was. Before Downes left, Porter took Lawson by surprise, seized him and the other conspirators, put them in chains, and set them to work building a wall around Fort Madison.
On the afternoon of November 15, Downes arrived back and reported that the strange ship was the Albatross, an American trader in search of sandalwood for China. She had on board beads and other trinkets to trade with the Marquesans. The Albatross proceeded into port, anchored, and then purchased a shipload of the precious wood for practically nothing. When her captain, William Smith, had acquired all his ship could hold, he sold his leftover trinkets at exorbitant prices to Porter’s men for cash.
LAWSON AND HIS MATES WERE A SMALL PROBLEM COMPARED TO another, much larger one. The terms of enlistment of many Essex men had expired or were about to. Of all the difficulties that Porter faced, this one caused him the most uneasiness. He knew the issue would be raised one way or another, and it had the potential to ruin his mission. He was not taken completely by surprise when trouble arose shortly before the Albatross arrived. For example, when the officer of the watch threatened Robert Dunn, a quartermaster, with punishment for neglect of duty, Dunn replied that the time for which he enlisted had expired, and if he was punished he would never do duty in the ship.
Since most of the crew were in similar circumstances, Porter knew he had to deal with Dunn decisively. Immediately after receiving the report on Dunn’s insolence, Porter summoned all hands, including Dunn, to the quarterdeck. When all had assembled, Porter ordered Dunn to strip to the waist, and warned him that he would be severely punished, after which Porter promised to banish him from the ship and send him on shore permanently, since he would have his discharge. He then gave an impassioned speech to the crew laying out the evils that would befall everyone if they followed Dunn’s example. He acknowledged that many of them were in similar circumstances and could have their discharge on the spot. But if they enlisted again for the cruise, he would give them the usual advance, and on a suitable occasion, three days liberty on shore.
Before Porter could proceed with Dunn’s punishment, several officers, petty officers, and seamen intervened. They pleaded that Dunn had been drunk when he made his obnoxious statement and should be pardoned. Dunn swore that he had indeed been drunk and had not meant what he said. He begged to be reenlisted. Porter accepted his excuse and pardoned him. Every man from all the ships then reenlisted, except for one. Porter put him aboard the New Zealander, which he intended to send separately to the United States.
Dealing with the problem of expiring enlistments did not remove all the incentives for mutiny, however, particularly as December 13, the date for departure, neared. Porter may have been ready to leave, but many of the men were not. Separating them from what many considered paradise would not be easy. After experiencing the delightful freedom of Nuku Hiva, going back to living in a small space cheek by jowl with as many men as were crowded into the Essex was an uninviting prospect. There was such general reluctance to leave that Porter believed it was possible, even likely, that a mutiny would occur. The most dangerous time, he thought, would be just before, or immediately after pulling anchor, and he was on alert, ready to stop any uprising before it got started.
He began preparing the crews for departure by stopping the liberty that hands had been enjoying. They were ordered to remain on board ship and work long hours. The change immediately brought grumbling. The men saw no reason for Porter to push them so hard. And they missed their women. Making matters more difficult, girls lined the beach every day, from morning till night, trying to get the captain to release the men. The young women cried for their lovers, and made every gesture imaginable to entice hands back to shore. While the men watched, their anger grew. They complained of being slaves.
Unable to resist temptation, three lovesick sailors quietly swam to shore one night. Their absence was soon discovered, however, and Porter immediately dispatched marines who caught them on the beach and brought them back. Without hesitating, he put them in irons, and the next morning had them severely whipped at the gangway. He then put them to work in chains with the prisoners. The severity of the punishment caused more murmurings. Porter heard them but felt his decisive action had prevented more serious problems.
He was wrong, however. As December 13 drew closer, discontent grew. Porter realized his error and remained on high alert. On December 9, the crisis he was expecting suddenly erupted. Robert White, a sailor aboard the frigate, was heard to say that the men would refuse to weigh anchor, or if compelled to, would seize the ship within three days. White was a member of the Essex’s original crew. Given the level of grumbling on the ship, Porter thought White’s threat was not an idle boast, and he reacted quickly, mustering all hands on the larboard side of the upper deck. Shaking with rage, he grabbed a cutlass and placed it ominously on top of the capstan. He then told the assembled crew that everyone’s liberty had been revoked, not because they had done anything wrong, but in order to hasten the Essex’s departure. This was an obvious lie. Porter had confined the men aboard to prevent happening to the Essex what had happened to the Bounty. He warned that he would not tolerate anyone going ashore without leave, and should they try to take the ship he would put a match to the magazine, without hesitating, and blow them all to eternity. Knowing Porter, the crew must have taken him seriously. He was determined not to become another Bligh—no matter what.
Porter then declared, “All of you who are in favor of weighing the anchor when I give the order, pass over to the starboard side; you who are of a different determination, stay on the larboard side.” Immediately, the entire crew passed over to the starboard side. He then singled out Robert White, who was trembling. Porter’s tone was severe as he said to White, “How is this? Did you tell them on board the Essex Junior that the crew of this ship would refuse to weigh anchor?”
“No, sir.”
“You lie, you scoundrel! Where is the list of the men who visited the Essex Junior Sunday?”
Porter made them all step forward and questioned each in turn. “Did you hear of this thing on board of the Essex Junior?”
“Yes, sir,” replied every man.
Porter then turned to White, “Run you scoundrel for your life.”
Terrified, White ran to the starboard gangway and jumped. Farragut, who witnessed the whole dramatic scene, said he thought the captain was mad enough to kill White with his cutlass if he had not jumped.
Luckily for White, a passing canoe picked him up, and he disappeared into the island. Porter let him go. That ended the matter, as far as Porter was concerned, and the men went back to work—“cheerfully,” he reported, although that’s hard to believe.
PORTER THOUGHT THAT HE HAD TO GUARD AGAINST MORE THAN a mutiny during this time; he thought that he had to secure his new American colony after the Essex and Essex Junior left. He gave the assignment to Marine Lieutenant John Gamble. Gamble was to remain at Fort Madison with two officers, eighteen enlisted men, and six prisoners to maintain the colony. The two officers were Midshipman William W. Feltus, who had been a member of the Essex crew from the start of her voyage, and Acting Midshipman Benjamin Clapp, who had been an officer aboard the Albatross and had transferred to the Essex. Porter took him on because of his desperate need for officers. Porter left Gamble with three prizes—the Seringapatam, the Sir Andrew Hammond, and the Greenwich—and moored them near Fort Madison for safety. He also supplied Gamble provisions for nine months.
Porter instructed Gamble to remain friendly with the natives, and to show them how to produce certain garden vegetables from seeds. Gamble was expected to stay on the island until the Essex returned, or until he received further orders, or until five and a half months had elapsed. In the latter case, he was to man and provision two ships, burn the other, and sail to Valparaiso, where he was to sell one of the ships and proceed with all the men, including the prize crews from the different ships then in port, to the United States.
Porter was leaving Gamble the fully provisioned prizes so that the Essex and Essex Junior would have the option of returning to the island for supplies and repairs after a fight with the British in Valparaiso—the grand one-on-one frigate battle that Porter had made the supreme object of his cruise.
Nothing illustrated how far Porter’s hubris had infected his thinking than his orders to Lieutenant Gamble. There was no reason to leave any Americans on Nuku Hiva. The United States had no interest in acquiring the island, but even if she did, the idea that Gamble and a handful of men could secure it against tens of thousands of natives was a cruel delusion.
And there was no reason to establish a base to succor Porter’s small squadron after a battle in Valparaiso. Such a battle, after all, was manifestly against the best interests of the tiny American navy, which needed to preserve its warships, not throw them away in useless fighting for the glory of individual captains.
Nonetheless, with no one to respectfully ask Porter to rethink his strategy, he went ahead with his bizarre plans. In preparing for departure, he ordered the remaining 1,950 barrels of sperm oil from the captured ships placed into the New Zealander, and he appointed master’s mate John J. King commander, directing him to proceed to the United States. This was the third shipload of oil Porter was sending home, giving the crew of the Essex further expectations of rich rewards when they finally reached America. John King and the New Zealander left Nuku Hiva on December 28, shortly after Porter did. Unfortunately, as she was approaching the coast of the United States, the British frigate HMS Belvidera captured her.