Little has been written about the Revolutionary War from the maritime standpoint. Most American accounts of the war focus on two events: the Battles of Saratoga in upstate New York and the Siege of Yorktown on Chesapeake Bay, neither of which involved significant naval action. Land battles seem to be the essence of military history. Christopher Ward’s classic account of the Revolution’s military history, mentions the naval conflict in only a few of its eighty-four chapters.1 American historians have also not been at their best in looking at the British side, which they regard as the inevitable losing side, standing in the way of the great American experiment. Nor have British historians stepped up to the plate, for other, more glorious episodes of eighteenth-century warfare, fit more easily into the rise of the British Empire. French and Spanish historians see the conflict against the coming of the momentous French Revolution. Rarely do these perspectives meet.
Instead of maritime possibilities, American interpreters have built their histories around the cult of naval personalities. What has been written about the Continental Navy and American privateers has been subject to a heavy dose of the ‘gallantry’ of American naval officers. One becomes suspicious if it is argued that every defeat had a silver lining as long as it was conducted gallantly and was later vigorously honored by friends and family. At least one American historian has realized that revolutionary gallantry has its limits: ‘As in all wars …, the real experience was a paradoxical combination of exceptional gallantry and shabby expediency, heroism and cowardice, existing amid a world of boredom punctuated by occasional excitement.’2 This critical attitude is what will be found here.
My journey to writing this book has been long and indirect. I have always been interested in the Revolutionary War because I grew up in upstate New York among many historic sites from the conflict. I began working on the Revolutionary War in 2003, speaking on it at Fort Ticonderoga’s war colleges, held annually before a broad audience on Lake Champlain. Ultimately, I published No Turning Point, covering the Saratoga Campaign. For this on several occasions, I used the manuscript collections of the National Library and Archives of Canada in Ottawa to add a British perspective. Its most welcoming staff provided much of the material in Part 3.
The next stop in my journey took me south to the NABB Center of Salisbury University, Maryland, where I became acquainted with Director Ray Thompson and his staff, who were ever helpful. It was here that I first read manuscripts covering Delmarva history. An instructive and pleasurable experience was lively discussion with students in my Eastern Shore Maritime History classes, sponsored by Salisbury University. I was also able to visit the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum at St Michaels, Maryland where a collection of documents on the life of Lambert Wickes had been assembled by Norman Plummer. Further south, Archivist Miles Barnes of the Eastern Shore Public Library, Accomac, Virginia proved to be supportive, not only with new sources on Virginia’s maritime history but also in chatting at his home library.
I have drawn on the Hamond Papers at the University of Virginia, the most extensive source on Captain Andrew Snape Hamond’s career. They are readily available at several research libraries because they were microfilmed in 1966 and a guide to the papers was published the same year. Most of Hamond’s papers were put together by himself in a scrapbook, for he was interested in producing an autobiography, which never was completed or published. In the manuscript, pagination is often lacking and loose inserts exist, while Hamond inverted the notebook pages into which his material was placed. This collection also includes Hamond-Hans Stanley correspondence, the only personal papers, which were purchased separately by the university to enhance the collection.
As with any historian who wants to comprehend naval history, Britain beckoned. There, during the spring of 2017, I had the pleasure of working with staffs of several research facilities. In Greenwich, the Caird Library of the National Maritime Museum offered a rich collection of ships’ log books. One Caird librarian in particular, Mark Benson, was especially accommodating. Across London at Kew, the National Archives provided access to the Admiralty Papers. I had planned to return for research in 2020, but the pandemic intervened. I was able to make up for this on line, discussing John Paul Jones’ exploits with Andrew Connell, formerly with the Appleby School, Cumbria. Working with the Pen & Sword team of Tara Moran and Harriet Fielding as well as editor Gaynor Haliday has been magical as my manuscript has become a book.
One of the necessities of scholarships is time and funding for research and reflection. I am grateful for awards received from the Gilder Lehrman Foundation and the National Endowment for the Humanities.
Another necessity is to clarify that quotes have not been modernized, being reproduced as found, with exception of bracketed material to provide context.