By Melissa Berry Newburyport News
---- —
Our ships all in motion once whitened the ocean.
They sailed and returned with cargo
Now doomed to decay, they are fallen a prey
To Jefferson — worms — and Embargo
—
Newburyport Herald 1808
On
a recent visit to the Custom House, Michael Mroz and Kevin MacDonald
shared riveting tales of the War of 1812 and the Port’s valiant fight
for maritime rights against the Brits. Newburyport was particularly
distinguished for the bravery and success of its privateers who were
“helping to thin out the enemy’s merchant ships.”
Much like the
Revolution, this conflict depended on the voluntary service of brave
locals. Despite the popularity of privateering during the war for
independence, Federalists thought the practice was “unprincipled.”
Governor Strong ordered a public fast to protest the war, and the
atmosphere was one of angst. MacDonald stressed the impact of the
economic crisis caused by the Embargo Act; it crippled the local
merchants and the whole Merrimack Valley market hit ground zero. The
effect was devastating, and for the first time, soup kitchens rose up to
feed the once-prosperous citizens.
The sentiment was
universal: “In every seaport there was much distress. Labor was impeded;
the most industrious were enforced to idleness; poverty took the place
of plenty. Many a noble man became a mere wreck of humanity.” The
destitution spread with the “Great Fire” of 1811 that left many homeless
as “nearly two hundred and fifty buildings were totally and suddenly
consumed.”
Although this privation capped the harbor like a thick
fog, a gallant hero “with flashing eyes and lion heart courage”
eventually emerged to lift people’s spirits. A vibrant, daredevil seaman
born and bred in the Port, Capt. William Nichols sent many of his
enemies to Davy Jones’ Locker, while spinning tales of aquatic
omnipotence that would put Ulysses to shame.
To the locals, he
was “fearless” and, to the Brits, the “Holy Terror.” For his “daring and
bravery, he had but few equals,” and he “was suited to become among
privateersmen what John Paul Jones is upon naval records.” Mroz calls
him the “Indiana Jones” of the briny deep, and he commanded the most
advantageous privateer on the Eastern seaboard, the Decatur.
Before
the war, the temerarious Nichols enjoyed several adventures on the high
seas, and this is, no doubt, why Benjamin Pierce placed him in command
of the Decatur. Pierce himself witnessed Nichols’ first stunt on the
brig Alert. The Brits captured Nichols, but a crafty plan would turn
fates. Nichols had “loaded and concealed a brace of pistols” in
preparation for this very moment, and at the magic midnight hour, “he
and his companions rose on the British seamen and regained possession of
the vessel, securing the hatches over four men in the hold, and sending
the rest adrift in a jolly-boat.”
The Vestal again captured the
crew and brought them to England. Only confined for a brief interlude,
Nichols narrowly escaped by “traversing gardens and leaping hedges,” and
then he hopped a coach to London and bumped into the very sergeant he
had just busted away from. Nichols responded to his opponent: “Here are
three guineas you can have, but never me!” Luckily, the sergeant favored
coin and Nichols went free.
Leaving port on Aug. 4, 1812, the
Decatur sailed out to make history. Nichols’ first encounter was not
with the enemy, but rather a two-hour pursuit with the Constitution,
during which he threw off 12 of his 14 guns to out-run her. When this
famous quick-fire frigate finally approached, Nichols suspected he would
become a prize; however, he was pleased to find Captain Hull wearing an
American naval uniform. Nichols tipped Hull off that the Brit frigate
Guerriere had indeed given him chase the day before — the very vessel
Hull was in hot pursuit of. The next day the Constitution fell in with
the Guerriere, and the legend of “Old Ironsides” was born.
Even
without guns, Nichols was determined to venture on, but the crew did not
share his buoyancy. He mustered around the mutinous lot, “appearing to
multiply himself on the eyes of his despondent crew,” while asserting,
“You shall be masters of this brig, or I will.” He then flattened the
insurgent ringleader with a billet of wood to restore order.
Out
of this conflict “rallied some of the bravest spirits of war about him.”
That very same day, the Decatur captured two prizes, thus replenishing
arms and the crew’s spunk. The Duke of Savoy and the Elizabeth were sent
sailing up the Merrimack, conjuring the Port with the vigor of heavy
guns and a blazing exposé of 50 flags. No doubt, this Brit vanquisher
was a sight for sore eyes!
The story of Capt. William Nichols will be continued tomorrow.
A man 'not born to be shot'
Editor’s note: Today’s column finishes the story of Capt. William
Nichols that was begun yesterday and that details his exploits during
the War of 1812.
The adventures of Port privateer Captain Nichols
continued, and the Decatur’s reputation soared: “Ranging over the ocean,
she was known and feared wherever an English flag spread to the
breeze.” Nichols was on a spree. After capturing the Duke of Savoy on
Aug. 22, he would total nine prizes by Sept. 1, all of great value and
well-stocked with guns.
With cargo valued at $400,000, one of
Nichols’ biggest scores was the Diana, a ship armed and ordered to
Newburyport. Although this stint at sea was a success, the Neptunian
exploits had to be suspended — out of 160 original crew members, he had
but 27 remaining. He had several prisoners on board as well, including a
few British officers.
Nichols set a course for home, but the
primordial powers were not yet finished with him. Before long, he was
“called upon to meet one of the severest tests of his courage and
skill.” This fateful encounter with the Commerce would be a fiery one.
When
Nichols asked the few crew remaining if they would fight despite the
ominous odds, the “three cheers” response must have given him a potent
surge of panache.
Although his “illy armed and feebly manned
brig” was up against “an enemy twice her size, double the number of
heavy guns and full of men well equipped with small guns,” Nichols rose
to the occasion, boldly asserting his “iron will.” While simultaneously
manning his vessel and working the guns, Nichols dodged repetitive
gunfire from British Captain Watts. Watts directed 14 shots his way, but
missed each time, eventually throwing down his musket and swearing:
“This man was not born to be shot!”
Ready to take the ship,
though Nichols surged forward with just 10 men, the command to “Fire!”
shot from his lips “as though he had a hundred men for the work.” In
spite of the raging sea and wild wind, the gutsy crew took the lead and
seized control of the enemy ship. Remarkably, the Decatur suffered no
losses, and Dr. Bricket of Newburyport went on board to tend the
wounded. Watts, hit by a cannon ball, met his maker during the night,
along with three other British officers. No doubt impressed by his
tactical prowess, the remaining crew signed up with Nichols on the spot,
and he agreed to share the prize.
On her second cruise out, the
Decatur captured prize after prize, but was eventually taken by the
Surprise and brought to Barbados. Because of his reputation, Nichols was
looked upon with high regard and respect. He was a parolee, rather than
a prisoner, until the Vestal showed up. The captain, no doubt
remembering the humiliation he suffered during the stunt on the Alert,
decided to “get even” and took Nichols prisoner.
As an “uncaged
lion would have been safer freight,” a special 5-by-7 wooden crate
hosted the “Holy Terror.” They kept Nichols for 34 days, and then held
him in a Brit prison. His release finally came after negotiations for an
exchange.
Nichols returned home and quickly hit the seas once
again in the brig Harpy, with which he “successfully preyed on enemy
ships and brought in rich cargos.”
Although a lion heart roared
in Nichols, according to his contemporaries, he possessed a warm, watery
disposition and “was of tender sensibilities, always exhibiting the
greatest affection for his mother and his family.” Even at sea, both
foes and comrades noted his “great civility, indulgent lenity, and
humane usage.” After Nichols captured his ship, Capt. William Drysdale,
grateful for the hospitality while imprisoned, extended an invitation to
his home, Stepney Green in London, should Nichols ever be in the area.
Benjamin
Pierce, in a letter to Col. Thomas Barclay, the commissioner of
prisoners, called him “modest and unassuming, yet brave and decided.”
Pierce also noted that Nichols “was strictly moral and sincere; as a
husband, parent, and neighbor, tender, indulgent, and affable.”
Later
appointed as the Port’s Collector of Customs, Nichols purportedly
regretted that “his advanced years did not permit him to engage in the
service of the country upon the sea.”
Often referred to as “the
forgotten war,” the War of 1812 is still alive and thriving at the
Custom House Maritime Museum in Newburyport.
Take a tour, visit Nichols’
portrait and collections, and learn how America won her nationalism and
freedom.
Special thanks to USS Constitution Museum historian Matthew
Brenckle for his contribution. He notes, “The War of 1812 established
America among world nations as major players and not the poor Colonial
cousins!”
