Lincoln's Admiral Page 3

  In later years, Farragut, who never faltered in his enthusiastic support for Porter, would acknowledge errors his captain had made at Valparaiso.

  “In the first place, I consider that our original and greatest error was in attempting to regain the anchorage; as being greatly superior to the enemy in sailing qualities, I think we should have borne up and run before the wind. If we had come in contact with the Phoebe, we should have carried her by boarding.”

  And so, before his thirteenth birthday, Midshipman David Farragut had participated in the most eventful cruise of an American warship up to that time, had received his baptism under fire in one of the most famous naval engagements of the war, and was among those survivors who, on their return to New York Harbor, were welcomed as heroes.

  In his report on the Battle of Valparaiso, Captain David Porter commended the conduct of his officers, and singled out several of them by name, including Farragut, for having “exerted themselves in the performance of their respective duties.” He added that he regretted that Farragut was “too young for [the] promotion” he deserved.

  Sailing on the Essex with Porter was the best education a future sea captain could receive. Porter was a superb seaman and an outstanding captain, and throughout his long career Farragut never forgot the lessons he learned aboard that ship. Among them was how to use a well-trained crew to board a larger and more powerful enemy ship and bring her flag down in defeat. Porter constantly drilled his crew in the arts of boarding and hand-to-hand combat. Crewmen on the Essex exercised daily with muskets and “single-sticks,” which were substitutes for broadswords and cutlasses, the actual weapons being too dangerous for practice drills.

  Later in life, Farragut recalled this invaluable training, claiming “that I have never been on a ship where the crew of the old Essex was represented, but that I found them to be the best swordsmen on board. They had been so thoroughly trained as boarders that every man was prepared for such an emergency, with his cutlass as sharp as a razor, a dirk made by the ship’s armorer from a file, and a pistol.”

  When his parole expired, Farragut was assigned to another ship, but the war ended before he could see additional action. Shortly after the peace with Great Britain, President Madison declared war on Algeria, and Farragut was assigned to the flagship of Commodore Bainbridge, the ship of the line Independence. He served as aide to the ship’s commander, Captain William M. Crane. No longer under the watchful eye of his mentor, Captain David Porter, who was appointed one of three naval commissioners in Washington, David Farragut was now on his own. Although Porter would continue to take an interest in his young protégé’s career, Farragut’s future was essentially in his own hands.

  The years following the War of 1812 and the war against Algeria offered little in terms of advancement for naval officers. The navy had too many lieutenants and captains, and postings aboard warships were few and far between. But it was a time of education for a young midshipman destined to reach the heights in his naval career. One of the lessons he learned during this time, which Farragut considered of utmost importance, came while he was stationed aboard the ship of the line Washington, on which he sailed in the Mediterranean from 1816 to 1818. The ship’s commander, Captain John Orde Creighton, was a noted martinet who was determined that his vessel be a “crack ship,” something he accomplished by abusing the men and officers under his command. While the Washington was maintained in perfect order, with all brightwork glistening and the decks constantly scrubbed clean, it was an unhappy ship. Instead of infusing his men with the desire to work hard and be proud of the condition of their ship, driving a crew the way Creighton did, Farragut saw, only resulted in their slothfulness when out of sight of an officer.

  “My experience,” he later wrote about the use of discipline and abuse to produce a “crack ship,” “instead of making me a proselyte to the doctrine of the old officers on this subject, determined me never to have a ‘crack ship’ if it was only to be attained by such means.” Farragut could not help but compare the leadership styles of men such as Creighton with Porter, who never forgot the considerations of his crew, and therefore commanded a well-run vessel whose crew was totally devoted to their captain.

  During this three-year cruise, Farragut spent time ashore in Tunisia, where he suffered sunstroke, the effects of which remained with him the rest of his life. Because it affected his vision, he was never able to read or write more than one page without stopping to rest his eyes and recover from the weakness the strain of reading produced.

  Another important lesson Farragut learned during these years stemmed from an experience he endured in the summer of 1820, when he received orders to return to the United States to take the examination for promotion to lieutenant. Earlier he had been made acting lieutenant of the brig Shark and was, at eighteen, that ship’s commanding officer. Now he finally had the opportunity to achieve promotion to the rank permanently.

  Upon arriving at Gibraltar, he found no American naval vessels sailing for the United States and was forced to take passage on a merchantman, the America. Also on board were two permanently wounded sailors who were returning home.

  The voyage proceeded without incident until, just a few days’ sail from the U.S. coast, a suspicious-looking brig appeared on the horizon. With the weather perfectly calm, neither ship could make much speed, but the brig soon broke out her oars and quickly approached the merchantman. Everyone on board was convinced the approaching vessel was a Caribbean pirate ship, and they feared what would happen to them once the pirates came aboard. Their fears were well founded because the waters of the Caribbean and the nearby Atlantic were infested with ruthless pirates who had no regard for the lives of passengers and crews of captured vessels.

  The America’s captain and crew were paralyzed with fear as the unknown vessel neared them. The brig then put a boat in the water, which headed straight for the America. Farragut realized the captain and crew had no intention of putting up any resistance to the approaching boat, even though everyone aboard the ship would be killed, and perhaps tortured first, if pirates boarded her. As the boat drew closer, they begged Farragut to remove his uniform for fear their own fate would be even worse if the pirates found a naval officer on board. The eighteen-year-old midshipman not only refused to disguise his rank, but immediately took command of the ship. He called the crew and passengers together and asked if they would help defend the ship against boarders. Only the two young navy sailors stepped forward; the rest, according to Farragut, were “alarmed at the idea of resistance, although they had no hope of mercy by surrendering.” Shamed by the bravery of the crippled sailors, several members of the crew joined Farragut, and together they prepared to use whatever items were available to attempt to sink the boat that almost immediately pulled alongside the merchantman.

  “Do you come as friend?” Farragut shouted down to the boat.

  “Yes,” came the reply in good English.

  Farragut then invited the officer who had responded aboard, but directed him to leave his arms in the boat. The man did as instructed.

  It soon became obvious that these were not pirates, for the man identified himself as “Mr. Smith” of Baltimore and his vessel as a Colombian brig-of-war. Smith offered to supply Farragut with anything his ship required. The midshipman thanked him, took several letters Smith wished mailed in the United States, and watched as the brig sailed away.

  Impressed by the different reactions of man-of-war sailors and merchant sailors to impending danger, Farragut expressed the opinion that “men trained to arms will never fail, if properly led.” Throughout the rest of his naval career, Farragut never forgot this lesson, that good training and leadership are essential ingredients in producing good fighting men. The America, with her captain once more in command, resumed her voyage to the United States.

  After so many years of his young life spent at sea, Midshipman David Farragut arrived in Washington, D.C., on November 20, 1820, feeling like a “stranger in my native land, knowi
ng no one but Commodore Porter and his family.”

  Ordered to New York for his lieutenancy examination, Farragut was confident of his abilities as a sailor, having been commander of a brig-of-war, but was less confident of his mathematics. It was his weakest subject, something that was quite understandable as he had gained little formal schooling other than that provided aboard naval warships. After all, he had gone to sea at the age of nine. What he had not considered was how much personal feelings might influence his passing or failing the examination.

  A few days before the scheduled examination, Farragut evidently got into a heated quarrel with a Captain George Washington Rodgers over the charges of drunkenness that had been brought against Rodgers’s friend and fellow captain, Christopher Raymond Perry. Farragut had known both as ships’ commanders in the Mediterranean. Rodgers made a veiled accusation that Farragut had spread rumors concerning Perry’s drinking problem, something the midshipman denied. Farragut refused to discuss the matter with Rodgers, telling him that if Perry had anything to say to him he should do so personally and not send intermediaries.

  Unknown to Farragut, Rodgers, the man whom he had insulted, shared quarters with Captain Samuel Evans, an influential member of the Naval Board of Examiners. Rodgers had evidently told Evans of his encounter with Farragut. At his examination, Captain Evans openly demonstrated his dislike for the midshipman, and the two got into a quarrel. Needless to say, Farragut did not pass the examination. But when he took the examination again, the following year, he passed.

  Between examinations, Farragut took up residence in Norfolk, awaiting assignment. There he made the acquaintance of Susan Caroline Merchant, with whom he quickly fell in love and whom he secretly harbored a desire to marry once he had achieved a respectable rank and pay level.

  Passing the examination did not bring automatic promotion, nor did it automatically bring assignment to a warship. Farragut had to wait until May 1822 before he was assigned to a ship, the twenty-eight-gun frigate John Adams. Most of the following two years were spent in the Caribbean chasing pirates who regularly attacked American merchantmen.

  Pirate attacks in the Caribbean had become so common, and the loss of cargoes and lives so great, that the country was in an uproar over the situation. In response, Commodore Porter stepped down from his post as navy commissioner, and formed what became known as the Mosquito Fleet to fight the pirates. Along with regular warships, the fleet included eight fast-sailing Chesapeake Bay boats, each mounting three guns and a crew of thirty-one men, and drawing less than seven feet of water. These were to be used to follow the pirates into the shallow streams and creeks in which they hid from pursuing American and British warships. The fleet also included five unusually large rowing barges, and a swift side-wheeler that had been a Jersey City ferryboat, but which now boasted three guns.

  The islands of the West Indies contained thousands of waterways in which the shallow-draft pirate vessels found sanctuary from pursuing warships, but Commodore Porter planned to put a stop to that. Twice before, expeditions had been launched to halt the Caribbean pirate trade. The first, in 1819, had failed miserably, and had cost the life of the expedition’s commander, Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, who died of yellow fever. In 1822, Commodore James Biddle met with a bit more success, capturing or sinking over two dozen pirate vessels, but he remained frustrated by the ability of the pirates to slip from his grasp, disappearing into the shallow creeks and streams along the island coasts with which only they were familiar. Now it was Porter’s turn.

  Two events of great personal satisfaction occurred during the two years Farragut spent chasing pirates in the West Indies. The first was the assignment of his older brother, Lieutenant William Farragut, to the fleet. The two had not seen each other for thirteen years. The second was a visit he made to New Orleans to visit his sister, whom he had not seen for an even longer period. The visit was friendly but strained, since the two were virtually strangers. It was then he learned that his father had died several years earlier. As it happened, the vessel on which he took passage up the Mississippi River to the Crescent City also carried the first bricks used in the construction of Fort Jackson, which would play a critical role in his life nearly forty years later.

  Returning to the Mosquito Fleet, Farragut, still waiting for his promotion to lieutenant, was given command of one of the bay boats, the Ferret. The Mosquito War, as it became known, was extremely successful in sinking pirate vessels and capturing hundreds of pirates. As a result, piracy all but vanished from the West Indies. Most of Farragut’s time was now spent escorting merchant vessels throughout the area. With the decline of piracy, these cruises became less dangerous, although the greatest danger of all, yellow fever, never subsided.

  Having driven most of the pirates off the seas, the Mosquito Fleet was soon reduced in size and scope. Toward the end of July 1824, the Ferret, Midshipman David Farragut commanding, was ordered to leave its base at Key West and sail to Washington for reassignment. As with most of the ships that had been fighting the war against the pirates, the Ferret had suffered from the effects of yellow fever. Although the reports are unconfirmed, it is believed that Farragut himself suffered two bouts of the deadly disease. A third and worst yellow fever attack struck him five days after leaving Key West, within sight of Washington. As a result, he was hospitalized for several weeks in Washington.

  At the end of August, with his doctor forbidding a return to the West Indies for the sake of his health, Farragut was released from the hospital. He immediately rushed off to Norfolk, to fulfill plans he had made during the years he had spent hunting pirates in the Caribbean: He asked Jordan Merchant for the hand of his third daughter, Susan Caroline. The wedding took place on September 2, 1824, at Trinity Church in Portsmouth, Virginia. Following the wedding, the couple traveled to Washington and spent several weeks at the home of Commodore Porter and his wife. The Porters were then residing on a 110-acre estate located about one mile north of the White House, in a beautiful mansion Porter had built, called Meridian Hill.

  Unknown to the Porters or the Farraguts, that autumn would be the last happy time for the Porters. Later that year, after recovering from his own bout with yellow fever, Commodore Porter returned to resume command of the Mosquito Fleet. At the beginning of November 1824, he was informed that a Lieutenant Platt, commanding officer of the schooner Beagle, had been briefly imprisoned by the Spanish authorities at Fajardo, on the east coast of Puerto Rico, while attempting to locate pirated American goods believed to have been hidden in the town. It was evident that the town’s mayor had conspired to keep Platt from finding the plunder.

  Outraged over this insult to the United States Navy, and perhaps cognizant of what might happen if the incident went unpunished, Porter decided an apology from the mayor of Fajardo was in order. On November 14, he landed near the city’s fort with 200 armed men drawn from the crews of three naval vessels anchored in the harbor. He sent a message to the mayor requesting him to join him at the landing site and apologize for his actions, or face the consequences of his armed force invading the town. Faced with overwhelming might, the mayor offered no resistance. The same afternoon, he visited Porter and expressed his regret over the incident both to the Commodore and to Lieutenant Platt.

  Although Spain made no protest over the incident, the United States Navy did not take Porter’s actions lightly. The commodore was brought up on charges of conduct unbecoming an officer. Although information concerning the origin of these charges is less than clear, it would appear that rival officers were behind them. Porter was found guilty, and sentenced to six months’ suspension, even though the court-martial attributed his actions to “an anxious disposition on his part to maintain the honor and advance the interest of the nation and of the service.”

  An indignant Porter resigned from the navy. He then served for four years with the Mexican navy, returning to the United States in 1829. Offered his old post by President Andrew Jackson, Porter refused, explaining that he coul
d not associate with the men who had punished him for defending the flag. Jackson understood and agreed with Porter’s position. Anxious not to lose his service to the nation, the President appointed him to several diplomatic posts. Commodore Porter died in 1843 while serving as Minister to Turkey. He had been a brave sailor and the best tutor and mentor a young boy destined for a naval career could have had.

  Following their honeymoon at Meridian Hill, David and Susan Farragut made Norfolk their home. It was the first home Farragut had known since joining the navy fourteen years earlier. Although little is known about their domestic life, there is no doubt that the Farraguts were forced to lead a frugal existence. As a midshipman, Farragut’s pay was $19 per month and one meal per day. After passing the lieutenant’s examination, his compensation increased to $20 per month and two meals per day. This was not much money for a young couple to live on, even in 1824. Added to this burden was Farragut’s decision to contribute to the support of his two sisters, Nancy and Elizabeth, both of whom lived with foster families in Louisiana. His earlier visit to New Orleans had helped reestablish relations with what remained of his family. This was a voluntary obligation he took on without request from either sister.