TheTroubleshooters.com Home                   Catalog                   World War 2                   World War 1                  Links

Patton's Troubleshooters Book                        Patton's Troubleshooters DVD

COMMODORE CHAUNCEY, at the other end of the lake, did not get down to Sackett's Harbor with his squadron until the British had done all the harm they could and had decamped.  But as soon as the ship bearing the commodore's broad pennant came to anchor in the harbor, Hiram put off in a small boat, and reported on board.  The first thing Hiram noticed now was that he had changed his name.  Instead of being simply " Hiram " to his companions, he was " Paulding" to the other midshipmen in the squadron, and "Mr. Paulding" to his superiors and inferiors.  Both officers and men were much needed by Commodore Chauncey on Lake Ontario, but greater still was the need on Lake Champlain, where the immortal Macdonough was building the fleet that was to fight the greatest naval battle of the war; and in a few weeks after joining Commodore Chauncey, Paulding was transferred to Commodore Macdonough's flag-ship, on Lake Champlain.  And, as before, he had a detachment of sailors to take along with him.  Among them was Danny Dixon, whose reminiscences of Cap'n Paul Jones grew more startling and verbose at every repetition.

It was a hard march through a savage wilderness, but Paulding was a genuine country boy, and was used to woods and marshes.  Although only a very little midshipman, he set his men an example of endurance and fortitude that was of great value to him in earning their respect.  He could not teach them to march well—sailors being constitutionally opposed to any sort of progression on dry land—but he knew the best way to take, the best time to march, and the best places to stop.  He was also lucky enough to have Jack Brown and his fiddle along, which enlivened many a tiresome day's journey.  The fiddle and Cap'n Paul Jones were kept pretty constantly on duty by Jack Brown and Danny Dixon, and Paulding enjoyed both as much as the sailors did.  Danny at the start approached Paulding gravely with what he called a ree-quest: "Mr. Paulding, sir, I got a ree-quest to make of you.  Tain't ornlikely that, bein' so far away from the sea, and havin' to sleep stationary, and not bein' able to count  on grog reg'lar, and not havin' no bo's'n to dang my eyes for not bein' smart at my duty—'tain't ornlikely, I say, Mr. Paulding, that I may slip my cable in these here lubberly woods—and my ree-quest is that you'll make the men carry my carcass and bury me in blue water, sir.  I ain't never counted on bein' planted on dry land, and it do seem hard that a man that was a powder-monkey aboard o' the Bunnum Richard, and seen Cap'n Paul Jones when he throwed his pistil at the head of the British traitor that started to haul down the colors, it do seem hard if I can't be took out and dropped into about thirty fathom of water.  Thirty'll do, Mr. Paulding."

"All right, Dixon," said the little midshipman, laughing merrily, "but I think you are as likely to hold out as any of us."  "I dunno about that, sir," answered Danny, shaking his head dolefully.  "It's mighty hard on a man never to hear no bo's'n cussin' at him, pleasant and sailor-like, and havin' all the room he wants to sleep in, and to be dreadful onsartin about his grog; and when I goes to sleep for good, I wants it to be in blue water, where poor Jack can lay easy and restful, sir.  The blue water is poor Jack's home, arter all.  No turnin' out o' cold nights for his watch, and bein' half froze afore his relief comes.  No goin' aloft when the ship seems to be pitchin' to her death and the wind is howlin' like a thousand wolves arter a sailor's life.  No more sayin' good-by to his wife or his girl when it tears his heart like a sunken rock sometimes tears a ship's bottom out.  And when a poor sailor is let down into blue water his troubles is all over, and his mates ought to sing out 'All's well!'"

Paulding made the promise, much to Danny's relief; but Danny was as much alive as anybody when they actually reached blue water.

The day that Paulding first saw Commodore Macdonough he marked with a white stone.  Although called Commodore, Macdonough was really only a captain, and at that time was but twenty-seven- years old.  He was tall and slight, and the wasting consumption which robbed his country of his pure and noble life not many years afterward, already showed in his pallid face.  He was as gentle as a woman, and no rude or profane word was ever heard from his lips.  But this was the man who had taken an impressed seaman bodily out of the boat of a British line-of-battle ship under her very guns; and when the British captain threatened to blow the little American sloop-of-war out of the water for it, had replied undauntedly: "You are no doubt fully able to do so; but I will never give up this man as long as my ship will float."

Earlier than that, when a sixteen-year-old midshipman, he was one of the heroic company which destroyed the captured Philadelphia in the harbor of Tripoli; and when Decatur, the commander of the expedition, sprang into the fore-chains of the doomed frigate, Macdonough was close by his side, and was one of the first to set foot on the deck.

The mere presence of such a man was inspiring.  He was confronted by the tremendous problem of creating a navy in a wilderness.  Guns, stores, provisions, tools, had to be transported hundreds of miles through almost impassable and trackless woods.  The forests surrounding Lake Champlain furnished nothing but ship timber.  Fortunately, good workmen were plentiful, and American ingenuity supplied the lack of many things that had heretofore been considered essential.  On the British side of the lake, a brave and skillful enemy was hard at work, also building ships to decide the supremacy of the great inland sea, but with some resources that Macdonough had not, and practically the British were much nearer their base of supplies.  More than that, their ships were to be manned with picked men, taken from British ships at Quebec, while Macdonough had to depend upon a few regular man-of-war's men, who were the nucleus around which he collected what proved to be a fine body of seamen, nearly every one of whom was American born.

Commodore Macdonough was but scantily supplied with officers, and the first thing Paulding knew he was performing a lieutenant's duties, although only a midshipman.  In those days there was no naval academy to train young officers in their profession—it had to be learned in the hard school of actual experience.  And here was a chance to learn everything.  Commodore Macdonough had to prepare to face the most formidable enemy in the world, and right worthily did he meet this extraordinary emergency.  The keel of the Saratoga, a corvette carrying twenty-six guns, was laid in the autumn, and to match this, the British were building a frigate, the Confiance, nearly twice as large, and carrying thirty-six guns.  Besides the Saratoga, the Americans had the Eagle, a brig which was so rapidly constructed that she was put in the water nineteen days after her keel had been cut in the woods.  They had also the Preble and Ticonderoga, sloops-of-war.  Paulding was attached to the Ticonderoga, and to be attached to a ship meant to work night and day to get her in condition to fight.  Her commander, Lieutenant Cassin, was an officer after Macdonough's own heart, and worthy to serve under this great seaman and pure and perfect man.  The commodore himself set the fashion of work, and might be seen every day laboring with his own hands, as well as supervising and overlooking everything.  Such an example could not be wasted on a boy like Hiram Paulding.

As soon as the ships were afloat and rigged, the men were daily exercised with the sails, and learned to work ship with the greatest expertness.  They were constantly drilled at the guns, and the rapidity and accuracy of their fire nobly maintained the reputation of the American gunners.  It was said they could handle a long twenty-four pounder like a musket, and were so thoroughly well instructed that any member of a gun's crew could act as captain of the gun in an emergency.  This was quite different from the British, whom a long course of victory had made careless, and it was sometimes said that if a gun captain were killed, his piece was rendered useless.

For Paulding, busy with patriotic work, with duties usually beyond those of his age and rank to perform, the winter of 1813-14 passed quickly.  There were few diversions—they were almost cut off from civilization—and besides there was no time for them.  But all were cheerful and had that entire confidence in their young commodore that is half the victory in a contest such as they were waging—a contest of skill in preparing for a contest of arms.  There was but little bitterness of feeling between the rival forces, and the American sailors sent the British tars a challenge, which said: "We will meet you and fight you, and then shake hands and be friends."

The men, though, had their own rough amusements.  Chief of these was cock-fighting, and great rivalry existed between the sailors and the marines in the matter.  Danny Dixon took the lead in this, and managed by hook or by crook to capture the marines' best bird, which he kept in a coop on board the Ticonderoga, where Danny held the proud position of bo's'n's mate.  He, of course, named the bird Cap'n Paul Jones.  The identity of this victorious bird was disputed.  When Captain Cassin was called upon to hear the testimony, the marines all swore in a body the bird was theirs.  The sailors, on the contrary, collectively and individually swore the bird belonged to them.  In the absence of proof on either side, and as there were more sailors than marines; Captain Cassin decided that Cap'n Paul Jones belonged to the sailors.

"In course," sniffed Danny scornfully; "think o' them plowmen and haymakers a-darin' to own a bird named arter Cap'n Paul Jones!  Lord!  Them marines is got the imperence o' the devil!"  Danny, being likewise captain of one of the quarter-deck guns, named the gun also Cap'n Paul Jones; but in this case the great sailor became a she, and Paulding, who had charge of this section, was regaled with many wonderful accounts of what "Cap'n Paul Jones, she done it, sir."  The gun was worked with marvelous precision, and did no discredit to the mighty commander of the Bon Homme Richard.