Thread by @ajcdeane

#deanehistory 89. Hat tip – my late father, Paul Deane.

This is the story of a great son of Suffolk, Philip Broke, and of his ship, the Shannon.

In 1812 Britain was at war with the United States. Contrary to expectations, the Americans were thumping the Royal Navy at every turn. Bigger ships, heavier guns, larger crews.

Broke was to change things.

The crew of the Shannon drilled tirelessly. Their captain set them challenge after challenge. Gunnery practice. Swordplay. Scenarios: imagine we are being attacked in such and such a way – what do we do? Fire the guns blindfolded, with instructions on your target given orally.

It was this dedicated crew and their ship that blockaded Boston. A fierce hunger to do that which their comrades had not – to take on and beat one of these great Yank ships – burned within them. In the harbour lay one such – James Lawrence’s ship, the USS Chesapeake.

Come out, come out, the Shannon cried. We are ready whenever you are.

In the meantime, ship after ship was seized as it sought to enter or leave Boston harbour. Broke sent them as prizes to British North America. But soon this threatened to leave him undermanned for a real fight as he had to man each such ship with a prize crew drawn from his own.

So he did something extraordinary. He burnt his prizes. In a navy in which men made fortunes from what they captured, it is a mark of the fervour of this captain – and the loyalty of his crew – that this was done.

The little boats belonging to the burnt ships were sent into Boston with their crews aboard, and those men took with them the message – again and again – from the Shannon… come and fight, Chesapeake.

Broke feared Lawrence might never put to sea to fight. Ultimately, he wrote to him– as Lawrence had earlier written to a British captain. He (accurately) described his ship, pointing out that they were relatively evenly matched. And then he went in for some 19th Century burns.

“I entreat you, sir, not to imagine that I am urged by mere personal vanity to the wish of meeting the Chesapeake, or that I depend only upon your personal ambition for your acceding to this invitation. We have both noble motives.”

“You will feel it as a compliment if I say that the result of our meeting may be the most grateful service I can render to my country; and I doubt not that you, equally confident of success, will feel convinced that it is only by repeated triumphs in even combats…

… that your little navy can now hope to console your country for the loss of that trade it can no longer protect. Favour me with a speedy reply. We are short of provisions and water, and cannot stay long here.”

Challenge made. Challenge accepted.*

(*Lawrence probably didn’t get the letter, but that rather spoils the story.)

With an earlier command, Lawrence had given a poorly performing British ship a thrashing, and almost certainly underestimated his opponent as a result. A berth in Boston’s dock was reserved for the ship he was to capture. A victory party was planned.

With every vantage point and height along the shore crammed with spectators, the Chesapeake put to sea, with some of Boston’s keenest warwatchers following her in boats to get the best view of the inevitable triumph that was to take place.

The ships were almost exactly the same length and width. The Chesapeake was a little heavier. The guns were even enough as to make no difference. She had a crew of 379 whilst the Shannon had 330. It was to be a fairly matched fight.

They met 20 miles off the coast, between Cape Cod and Cape Ann. Both ships held their fire until at close range. Many of the American shots went into the water, but her carronade fire went into an ammunition store, sending shot through the British ship viciously.

But the Shannon had the better of it. Broke’s crew knew what they were doing, moment to moment: their Captain had drilled them until each step came naturally, even if they couldn’t see in the fog of war.

Josephus said of the legions of Rome that their drills were bloodless battles and their battles were bloody drills. Thus fought Broke and his men of the Shannon.

The Chesapeake’s wheel was shot away. Some sail was lost. She yawed. The ships drew closer & the Shannon’s crew lashed them together, though one lost an arm in doing it.

British fire remorselessly diminished the Chesapeake’s crew. When the time was right, they boarded her.

Lawrence was mortally wounded. His Lieutenant, William Cox, who had served with him all his sailing life, carried him below deck. His last words were “tell the men to fire faster. Don’t give up the ship!”

Sharpshooters in the rigging blasted away at each other. Some American guns still fired. Fighting on the deck was fierce. Americans rallied and counterattacked. But the outcome was increasingly, brutally clear.

Broke led the charge against the last knot of American resistance. As he did so, the ships were blown apart, leaving the boarding party stranded. Americans coming down the rigging surprised Broke and wounded him, a sabre cut to the head sending him to the deck.

The crew of the Shannon rallied to their captain. They charged and surrounded the fallen Broke. The Americans were killed. The remaining Americans below deck (with some suggestions of cowardice in seeking refuge there lamented by one of their officers) surrendered.

In a little over ten minutes, more than 200 men were killed or injured. 23 men of the Shannon were killed, and 56 were wounded. Chesapeake had 48 killed and 99 were wounded. It was one of the bloodiest single ship actions of the age.

The Shannon, a Lieutenant commanding her whilst Broke recovered from his wound, escorted the Chesapeake to Halifax as a prize. She became HMS Chesapeake of the Royal Navy. Broke was made a Baronet. Lawrence was buried with honours at Halifax, British officers his pallbearers.

History now records that Lawrence rushed into a fight with an underprepared crew, overconfident of victory and (for understandable reasons) underestimating an opponent who was far better prepared than he expected. After all, both sides took great punishment, but only one broke.

But still: we can recognise the bravery shown on both sides – especially by captains who led their men from the front, to great personal cost.

Broke was never to command a ship again. His wound was grievous. The sabre had penetrated his head by at least three inches. He lived semi-crippled to the age of 64.

The lessons will sound like they’re from a sports or management manual, but are unavoidable. Practice until action is second nature. Never underestimate your opponent. Remorseless focus tends to win, even when held by an outnumbered, unfancied contender. Broke showed all of this.