Niagara First-Person
Interpretations
Seaman Henry Bowen:
Ahoy there! Good day to you folks. Name is Seamen Bowen, Henry Bowen.
I serve aboard this here ship the USS MICHIGAN, have since 1859. You
all know about the winters we have on the Great Lakes, so the MICHIGAN,
she never sails past late November. I see you have a ship out there
right now—looks a lot like sketches I have seen of the old LAWRENCE and
NIAGARA from Captain Perry’s fleet. But couldn’t be, could it, for they
were scuttled back in 1820. Ah, anyhow, whatever that ship is out
there, she’s rigged down just like we do with the MICHIGAN. Every
November we rig her down, topmasts and yards included, and store all her
rigging in a shed just a quarter mile from here. Yep, then we tie her
down securely until spring thaw comes around.
Since
she was launched in 1843, this ship—heh!—who painted this dang prow
white!? The MICHIGAN is a black, sleek-looking,
menace-of-a-warship—must be some practical joker! Anyhow, the vessel
has spent every winter except one in this booming town of Erie. I
believe it was 1847-1848 that the lake froze early and the ship got
caught and had to winter over in Buffalo.
Winter
life is pretty good for the officers and crew of the MICHIGAN. Right
now, for example, the ship’s officers have gone back to the place they
used to call the U.S. Hotel; these days we call it the Reed House.
There they will be until 05:30 tomorrow morning. That—the departure of
the officers all afternoon and evening--is really the big difference
between the normal routine of the ship in season and the winter
“stationary period.” The officers cannot sleep on board because it just
gets too dang cold in the stern of the ship—the galley stove, up forward
of the engine room, plus a few small oil heaters here and there, keep us
plenty warm. The iron hull keeps that icy wind off our backs. Plus,
about ten years ago, they built a seasonal house over the foredeck of
the ship to keep us a bit warmer over the winter-—makes the ship look
like an ark, but it works! The officers complain about having to plough
through snow sometimes several feet deep and bracing themselves into a
numbing wind while walking to and fro the Reed House and the ship. If
you’re not from these parts, takes a while to get used to that.
So
it’s up at 05:30, dress, lash hammocks to the gun deck bulwarks, coffee
at 06:00, carry out the boatswain’s orders until breakfast at 07:30.
Bosun’s orders? Well, that means everything from painting and scraping
paint to holystoning the decks with sandstone blocks like this one
(shows it), to polishing the brass of the ship. Brass. I swear half
this ship is made of brass!—especially below decks. Then it’s 0900
inspection and off to general quarters drills. Drills: fire drills,
small arms drills, foil drills—learning to fight with a cutlass, dress
parade drills, drills every few weeks on the great guns.
So for
the rest of the day it‘s just the crew on duty and a watch officer. I
am off tomorrow; it’s every other day, you know, and I have hired myself
out as a laborer for the Jarecki works. We make oil drilling equipment
for the big oil boom towns like Pithole. What? You never heard of
Pithole? (Need to go there some Saturday night, treat yourself to a real
good time, gentlemen. Oops, this is a family crowd, isn’t it?) Where
was I—oh yeah, I hire on in these winter months like a lot of the men;
ten dollars a month may sound like a lot, but it just does not carry me
along as well as I would like. I’ll probably send some of that extra
money home to the folks, who, I am sad to say, I will not see again this
Christmas. I will also buy myself a nice Christmas dinner and maybe
some of that good Christmas cheer. Takes some of the Lake Erie chill
away, you know! I may even stay in Erie after I am through with the
Navy, or they’re through with me. I joined the Navy to see a little of
the world, and I have too, but I am getting to like these long off
seasons here, even getting used to these damn—oops, sorry, ladies—dang
cold winters.
The
MICHIGAN, she’s a fine ship, got a good library, too. The officers
like us to read; there’s a thing or two I’d like some of them to
read, but I dare not say. I myself cannot get enough of books; they’re
just like ships—they take you far from home and bring you back a
different man. Reading also passes the winter lay-up time remarkably
well. Some of the men sail our iceboat on their days off, or ice
skate. Of course the officers take no part in such activities; strictly
the high life for them.. They hold lots of parties and dances here
aboard ship—even in winter. And these parties have been, shall we say,
productive? The officers and some of the seamen have gotten to know the
ladies of Erie quite well. Just in the four years I have served the
ship, I have seen several dozen courtships and more than a few weddings
between MICHIGAN officers and Erie ladies.
Have
any one of you heard how the war with those dang rebels is going? What
a horrible year it has been. Your fine city lost one of its bravest
souls in Colonel Strong Vincent, when he went down gallantly defending
Little Round Top during the great Battle of Gettysburg. You know, of
course, too, that Erie had the distinguished honor of sending the very
first regiment of volunteers from the state of Pennsylvania in April
1861 to defend this Union. And you know also, I bet, that this very
ship, the MICHIGAN, has so far recruited more than three thousand men
throughout the Great Lakes to serve in the Union Navy.
And
the people of Erie should know that this city, this whole region is not
safe from the ravages of this great war. We were supposed to winter
over in Sandusky this year because of a rumored threat that the
Confederates were going to try and free the prisoners from Johnson’s
Island—not far from where Commodore Perry won the Battle of Lake Erie.
We proceeded there on October 22 this year, drilled away hourly on the
new big guns they had mounted because of the war. The men were also
supplied with fresh small arms, too—colts and Springfield rifles. We
were nervous for about a month, until we heard that the Canadian
government learned of, and then informed the U.S. Navy department, of a
planned attack on our ship. At that point, just about three weeks ago,
the Confederates knew the game was up and they abandoned the plan.
No
part of this Union can escape the scourge of this calamity. And I am
sad to say that support for the Union cause of freedom has fallen this
year when the federal government imposed mandatory conscription. Many
people are upset that rich folks have been buying their way out of the
draft while the poor farmer has to go fight. And now that the cause is
not just saving the union but freeing the slaves—well, they’re more than
little skittish about that. President Lincoln has become a most
unpopular man. Hated and despised by many, if you want to know the
truth. Me, I have come to believe that this war is a war for the
freedom of us all—not just for the black slaves. I may be the
exception, but I believe that when one man is imprisoned in this land of
freedom, none of us are free. I learned that from the first book I ever
read—Mrs. Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Anyway, this summer people took to rioting against the draft all across
the north—from New York to Chicago. The MICHIGAN and her crew were
called upon this summer to quash riots against the draft and the Union
itself in Buffalo and Milwaukee. We had to fight against our very own
northern countrymen to try and hold this great cause together.
By the
time we returned to Erie in late November, we had to hustle to rig the
ship down, for the winters come on fast, as you know. The ship uses
steam power far more than her sails, and she sure can cut through the
water. Up to fourteen knots, some of the officers tell us. Former
Commander Steven Champlin (I think you have heard of him—served under
Commodore Perry in the Battle of Lake Erie—once said he thought she was
the fastest ship on the lakes; the MICHIGAN did Buffalo to Erie in six
hours and twenty-nine minutes under Champlin’s command. But we still
have to keep the rig ready to use. Bo’sun order last week, “sew on the
sails, sew on the sails.” Suits me fine, for it gives me the chance to
mend my own clothes, too, and it beats chopping ice from around the
hull. A couple of mates fell through the ice last season while hacking
away at the ice around the ship.
We are
cheery with song for now, however. There is a break in war news,
Gettysburg may have helped us turn the corner, and Christmas is on its
way. Well folks, I have got to get mending my trousers. I will work on
rigging again, day after tomorrow, by order of the bosun. Perhaps I
will see you folks about town some time between now and April when we’ll
be off for another season of guarding the Lakes. Who knows what next
season will bring. Greetings of the Yuletide to you all.
LEMUEL PALMER, Carpenter’s Mate,
LAWRENCE
(months after battle, SPRING 1814)
Good
day, my name is Lemuel Palmer, but you can call me Lem. Can I tell you
about how my best friend Wilson Mays and I came to be part of Commodore
Oliver Hazard Perry’s crew during the Battle of Lake Erie. The two of us
were working in the Navy Yard in our hometown of Newport, Rhode
Island-building and repairing gunboats commanded by Captain Perry. Along
about last February, when Captain Perry received his command on the
Great Lakes, he asked for volunteers to join him. Wil and I, along with
a few score other men, signed on, thinking it would be a grand
adventure. It has been an adventure, but not nearly so grand as we
thought.
After
leaving Newport, we were first sent to Sackets Harbor on Lake Ontario,
in New York. We worked there for about one month, mostly for the ship
building operation overseen by Commodore Isaac Chauncey.
During
the last week of March Wil and I and about twenty other men were sent
here to Erie to join Captain Perry’s fleet. For the next three months we
were kept very busy building two brigs, NIAGARA and LAWRENCE. I did not
think it possible that ships could be built under such primitive
conditions, in such a small village as this. Often times the timber we
were using was so green that I believe if we had re-planted it in the
ground it would have taken root again.
When
the ships were finished we were signed on as carpenter’s mates-Wil on
the LAWRENCE and me on the NIAGARA. In early August the fleet left Erie
and sailed west. After Captain Perry met with General Harrison in Ohio,
he ordered the fleet to an anchorage at a place called Put-In-Bay. I
have no happy memories of this place. Most of us, including Captain
Perry himself, were sick with the fever. We could not keep anything in
our stomachs, for days at a time. And there was nothing the doctors
could do for us-indeed, they took sick with the fever themselves! My
friend Wil, also-the last time I saw him on the ninth of September, he
was too sick to move.
On
September the tenth just after dawn we sighted the enemy fleet. We
raised anchor and set sail to meet them. For a couple of hours we fought
against the wind trying to get out of the bay -it was blowing directly
into our faces. Then suddenly, the wind changed direction and we now had
the weather gauge with us. Commander Perry raised the ensign flag at the
gaff-that was the signal for the attack to begin. The LAWRENCE soon
after engaged the DETROIT. All that I could see from the deck of NIAGARA
were clouds of smoke. And the noise-I have never heard such a deafening
roar in all my life. It sounded like one thousand cannons firing, not
thirty or forty.
Let me
tell you, I sure was worried about Wil, especially since it seemed that
our ship was not getting any closer to help them. We, the NIAGARA, you
see, were supposed to take on the QUEEN CHARLOTTE. I heard Captain
Elliott give the command to back the tops’ls and brail the jib, which
forced the ship to heave to. At that point the way of our ship was lost.
We stood almost perfectly still now, far off from the line of battle,
just behind CALEDONIA. This went on for well over an hour. Nobody aboard
NIAGARA knew quite why Captain Elliott had not moved to engage the QUEEN
CHARLOTTE like we had been told. All we could do was fire our long guns
from the bow, and this with great futility. Finally, we began to make
way, closing in upon the windward side of LAWRENCE. It seemed like the
moment to finally pass to the leeward side of our flagship and relieve
her of the battering she was taking. The wind was out of the southeast
just then and we could have finally moved in upon the DETROIT and the
QUEEN CHARLOTTE. But our Captain again hove to and waited. Just a minute
later, we saw a ship’s cutter rowing toward us out of the thick smoke.
It was
our great surprise to see Commodore Perry coxs’ning the four men rowing
that boat like the devil. They rowed up right along side us and came
aboard. Captain Elliot greeted Commodore Perry with the remarkable
question, “How goes the day?” “How goes the day?”! “How goes the day?”!!
The answer to that question could be seen in the disaster of a ship that
LAWRENCE now was. Perry dismissed Elliot immediately, sending our
captain off to direct the operation of the gunboats in the fleet.
Commodore Perry carried with him his blue and white battle flag-you all
must know what it said, do you not? (wait for visitor to answer) Perry
then ordered more sail to be raised, and we soon closed in upon the
British line. The commanders of QUEEN CHARLOTTE and DETROIT wetre taken
by surprise by that point, I think, perhaps believing that Perry had
forsaken the fight. Ah, no, my friends. Our brave commander led us right
between the LADY PREVOST and the two large British ships of war. He
ordered double-shotted broadsides and we delivered, loading 32-pound
cannonballs just as fast as we could. Presently the battle turned our
way. In fifteen minutes the British had struck their colors and the
battle was over.
Later
that evening I was in a company of men ordered to go aboard LAWRENCE and
help care for the wounded. My heart tightened as I awaited to learn the
fate of my comrade Wilson. What a sight the ship herself was-huge holes
in the planking, sections of deck torn away from the framing, and nearly
every gun knocked off its carriage. I soon learned from the carpenter on
duty Wil’s tragic story. Yes, he had been too sick with the dreaded
fever the morning of the battle, but once the firing commenced, he
insisted on doing something to help. He told Lieutenant Yarnell he could
man a pump so that that pump man could man one of the gun crews. At the
end of the battle they found Wil still sitting at the pump-dead with a
musket ball through the heart.
Following the burial of the dead and repair of some of the damage to the
ships, we on the NIAGARA assisted General Harrison in moving troops
across the Lake for an assault upon the British and Tecumseh’s Indians.
That, as you probably know, ended well-the great Shawnee chief was
killed that fall in the Battle of the Thames (Temz). Well, that is my
story. Glorious? Yes, I suppose. But, oh, the cost of that glory. We
never did conquer Canada in that war. The British stopped snatching up
our sailors because their war with the French came to an end. My
friends, I am not certain if it was worth it. I suppose that is up to
you to decide, is it not? Those of you in the future, that is?
Nurse Sally McCommons-
Why,
good day to you all! Oh it is cold out there, is it not?! Not as cold as
last winter, though, I can tell you that. Last winter it began snowing
before the leaves were off the oak trees; the bay and the lake were
frozen over earlier than anyone here in the village could remember. I
declare it seems as if they began to freeze just about the time Captain
Perry’s flagship, the Lawrence, returned to Erie on the 23rd of
September bearing the bodies of the men most badly wounded in the Battle
of Lake Erie. Heavens! When I first saw the Lawrence I could not believe
this shattered hulk was the same ship that had so bravely sailed to meet
the enemy just a few short weeks earlier. When she left with the rest of
the fleet they looked ready to take on whatever the British could send
their way. What came back looked as if it had done battle with the devil
himself. Large pieces of the sides of the ship were missing, as if some
great beast had tried to make a meal of it. The rigging and sails were
so patched up they looked like my father’s oldest, most disreputable
work clothes. Within a short period of time we discovered that most of
the men aboard were in as bad shape as the ship herself.
Anyway, when winter came on with such force and so early, the frigid
weather increased greatly the misery of the wounded heroes of the
Battle. It was bad enough for the men who were cared for in the
courthouse hospital, and in the hospital up on the bluff at Wayne’s
blockhouse, places that allowed for the greater shelter and comfort of
the wounded. They also had the benefit of frequent visits by Doctors
John C. Wallace and Usher Parsons, and by the women of our little town
who I dare say provided the doctors with invaluable assistance in
nursing the men back to health.
But
for the men who were housed in the hospital on the other side of Big Bay
out there, just near the edge of Little Bay, conditions were merciless.
The hospital was erected quickly that fall but made of nothing more than
thin planking and canvas salvaged from the wreck of the brig Lawrence.
You may have heard that in building the ships for Commander Perry’s
fleet that fall of 1812, the sawyers cut virtually every large, usable
tree that was standing in the vicinity of the water front. So imagine
the cold Lake Erie winter gales coming across that sand bar over there
with little or nothing left to break the wind.
Conditions worsened greatly when a deadly smallpox epidemic broke out
among the heroes late last fall. Have you any family members with small
pox? You do not? How do you keep from getting it? Vaccination? Not out
here on the frontier, no ma’am/sir. Some believe that it is the devil’s
work to interfere with God’s plan to take the body when He is ready, so
many do not look favorably upon either inoculation or vaccination.
Former President Jefferson learned of the theory back about ten years
ago and, as I understand, introduced the vaccine in the big cities in
the east. For us out here in the wilderness, and especially for the
Indians it remains a terrible scourge!
The
first men to be infected a year ago did not know they had it until nine
or ten days had passed, then the first symptoms appeared: high fever,
some as high as 106 degrees, along with chills, backache and headache.
Then the disease fools you, the fever subsides, for the men soon
thereafter began to break out in the smallpox rash-usually starting on
the face and chest, and spreading to the limbs. Then the rash turns into
raised, ugly looking pustules that after a week or so break open and
scab over; when the scabs fall off, the rash leaves deep, ugly scars on
the person for the rest of their life.
That
is if they live. Smallpox also attacks the eyes and internal organs like
heart, lungs and liver. Several men, some whose battle wounds had
healed, died of smallpox, and were buried in the naval tradition: sewn
up in their hammocks with a cannon ball at their feet, they were buried
in the waters of Little Bay, adjacent to where the hospital stood. When
Little Bay froze up, about a year ago this time, the men had to cut
holes in the ice and dispose of the dead through the ice. They have
begun to call that part of the bay Graveyard Pond. And I am afraid that
Little Bay is no longer; the place will, I believe, forever be known by
the name given it by one of the men last winter-Misery Bay.
Perhaps the saddest part of this tale is that because the word smallpox
strikes fear into the heart of every living person, the good people of
Erie decided it was best to keep the men in the lower hospital contained
until the epidemic was over. Smallpox is spread from one person to
another, usually by coughing out the infectious particles. Sometimes
also by clothing or bedding used by an infected soul. The burgess and
other leaders of Presque Isle decreed a quarantine of Little Bay
hospital, sadly leaving our heroes to suffer in isolation throughout the
epidemic. Doctors Parsons and Wallace assured those of us who had
endured smallpox in our younger years that we were immune and so could
safely participate in the nursing of the wounded. All we could do was
apply poultices and cold cloths to ease their pain. Passage to the
hospital for the conveyance of nurses, doctors and supplies was by small
cutters and schooners. Links between the island and town were kept to a
minimum right on through the spring of this year of 1814.
Amidst
the nursing of the wounded, the people of the village also had to deal
with the fear of renewed attack by the British. On the 30th of December
word reached Presque Isle that an army of British and Indians had landed
at Black Rock, forcing our army to retreat. They had also, we learned,
burned the villages of Black Rock and Buffalo, captured and destroyed
the government vessels, and flushed with triumph, were advancing up the
lake for the purpose of capturing Erie next. They were planning to come
by sled and sleigh across the lake. Quickly a defensive force of General
Meade’s army, coupled with a goodly number of rather bedraggled,
pathetic looking militia men were brought back to town. Our force
numbered nearly four thousand throughout the winter. Rumors ran rampant
all through the winter; some people packed their goods and furniture and
were ready to evacuate at a minute’s notice. The rumors proved false,
but they surely made last winter a nervous one indeed.
The
men stayed on through the winter, and were housed in a section of town
that came to be called unflatteringly, ”Stumptown.” The place was
nothing more than a row of low log barracks, quickly established and
just as quickly burned this past summer once they were no longer needed.
Before destroyed, however, Stumptown became the scene of quite a bit of
raucous behavior among this motley throng of soldiers. These militia
were men, I must say, of the lowest class imaginable-unkempt, dressed in
rags, and ill-mannered and lacking in morals and decency. Excessive
drinking, gambling, fighting, womanizing-I tell you the devil had his
way in Stumptown. The Reverend Johnston Eaton had himself quite a time
trying to keep the devil from overrunning the whole town. Indeed, there
were deaths that you might say were continuing casualties of the Battle
of Lake Erie. The incident people are still talking about is the duel
between Midshipman George Senat, commander of the PORCUPINE during the
Battle, and Acting Master Macdonald . They were on opposite sides of the
bitter antagonism between Captains Perry and Elliott, and fought it out
with pistols right up yonder at the corner of Third and Sassafrass
Street. Poor George Senat, defending the honor of Commander Elliott, did
not survive, and his intended, a young Erie lady, grieves for him still.
Foolish men! But just like so many others-these navy men often settle
their differences with pistols.
Other
men could not bear to linger on through the winter. There was at least a
score of desertions-I lost count. You may have heard of the notorious
case of Marines James Bird and James Rankin and Seaman Henry Davidson.
All three of the men deserted last summer and were hunted down near
Butler, Pennsylvania, brought back to the fleet, were court-martialed,
and just last month were executed and hanged.
So my friends, the winter of 1813 was full of gloom-sickness, injury,
bitterness, death and despondency. We look for a more pleasant
celebration of the Yuletide this winter of 1814. I have seen much more
sleighing and sledding and ice skating this winter than I remember last
winter; the people seem to be in much brighter spirits. And we in this
place have much for which to be grateful to the Lord above. Most
important, you will be happy to know that this Christmas we are
threatened no longer by the British and the Indians. Indeed, the last
word we received was that the governments of Washington and London were
meeting at a place called Ghent somewhere in Europe to bring an end to
this bloody affair. We hope to hear good news, but yet we also hear that
Colonel Andrew Jackson is marching south upon the Indians. I ask you
folks, would you pray that peace comes to our country by Christmas? I
take leave of you now, and wish you all a blessed Yuletide.
