By Bill Millarrrrgh.
Rocky and windswept, Damariscove Island sits like a sentinel in the ocean guarding the approaches into Boothbay Harbor. Rugged, like most of its kind, it possesses a fair harbor and long history. It is here, that the pirate, Dixie Bull, was said to have buried his treasure.
As a child, our family would pack the cooler, fill the thermos bottle and load into the old Chevy for an annual trip up the coast to Pemaquid, where, having our fill of the beach, we would make the short drive over to Ft. William Henry and climb around the stone walls and tower. Visitor signs and artifacts in the museum told how, in 1632, the pirate, Dixie Bull, had sailed into the harbor and laid waste to the place. In my young imagination, I pictured a fleet of tall vessels, their cannon belching smoke and flame, disgorging a horde of black, bearded ruffians, who took plunder and no prisoners. And, I often wondered who this Dixie Bull, known as New England’s first pirate and the reason for the first large man hunt in the area, really was.
The early 17th century brought an end to the period of exploration along the east coast and ushered in the age of settlements. Both the English and the French began settling and building trading posts along the shore of New England, in some cases in competing areas. This was the New England into which Dixie Bull arrived.
Born in Huntingdonshire in England, sometime in the early 1600’s, he was apprenticed to his older brother, Seth, a skinner and tanner in London. Skinners, at that time, ranked among the wealthiest trade guilds in that they regulated the fur trade. Bull became a “trader for bever,” and, in fact may have used his apprenticeship as a form of indenture to finance his passage to America.
His name first appears in New England along with his elder brother and nephew in a patent for land from Sir Fernando Gorges “east of the Aquamentiquos River (Now the York River)” Since Bull’s name does not carry with it the title of “gentlemen” or “esquire,” he was probably not considered wealthy. There is also no indication that he settled the land granted to him.
Setting himself up as a trader, he purchased a shallop, the pick-up truck of early colonial shipping. Small, open, sometimes half decked, these boats were fitted with sails, oars, or both, and were designed for operating in shallow waters. Sailing up and down the Maine coast, Bull traded for beaver pelts, a staple in the economy of the time.
While beginning a life he hoped would be prosperous, international events overtook Dixie Bull. By the Treaty of St. Germain en Laye in March of 1632, the English had returned to France, Quebec and Acadia. Interpreting the treaty to include those lands in what is now eastern Maine, French Lt. Governor Isaac de Razilly warned the English not to expand east of Pemaquid and sent an expedition to the trading post at the Penobscot Plantation. A French vessel, piloted by a “treacherous Scotsman,” robbed the trading post there, taking away everything of value, taunting the English as they left. In this one instance, Bull lost everything, including his boat. The up and coming businessman was left destitute.
To be continued
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Enemy On Our Shore: The Occupation Ends
The British now set to work establishing their intended province of New Ireland. After a raiding party captured the fort at Buck’s Harbor on September 12, the coastline was secure. On Sept. 21 a proclamation was issued establishing the province and designating Castine as a port of entry.
All towns from the Penobscot to New Brunswick were granted the same commercial rights as any other British province. Vessel owners who swore an oath of allegiance were granted license to operate freely without English interference.
On November 7, Harpswell held a second special town meeting, and appointed the Selectmen as the committee responsible for the arms and equipment which were being sent from the state arsenal in Boston. They were authorized to issue out the arms, one for each person, and required each recipient to provide security that they would be returned when called for. Powder kegs, possibly from this shipment, are on display in the Harpswell Museum on Rt. 123 in Harpswell Center.
East of the Penobscot, daily life as citizens of the British Empire began to settle in. The officers of the garrison at Castine formed a theater, the actors coming from their own number. Feminine roles might be played by a young lieutenant of the infantry for lack of female players.
It was reported that, almost daily, shipments of desirable English goods entered through the port. The imports were of sufficient quantity that the US government established a customs office in Hampden, which collected approximately $150,000 in duties.
When winter brought the freezing of the river, intrepid Mainers could be found crossing the ice in sleighs loaded with contraband to avoid taxes.
One has to wonder to what extent the pillars of the community were profiting from this illegal trade. One night a customs agent apprehended a smuggler with a sleigh full of illegal goods. With Yankee gall, the miscreant charged the agent with highway robbery. Examined by the same magistrates who had appointed him, the unfortunate official was shipped off to prison in Augusta!
The Treaty of Ghent, which ended the War of 1812, also terminated the Province of New Ireland. On April 25, 1815, the British quietly evacuated all territory held in Maine and the US government retained control. Historian William Williamson, in 1832, recounted that the local inhabitants rejoiced, but given the commerce enjoyed during that time, how deep was that sentiment? One is left to wonder what might have been the consequences, what the State of Maine might be like today, had the negotiations left the territory east of the Penobscot as British territory.
For further reading, the author recommends The History of the State of Maine by William Williamson. Published in 1832, it is available online. Penobscot: Downeast Paradise by Gorham Munson (1958) also gives many interesting accounts of the area and its history and is a good read.
All towns from the Penobscot to New Brunswick were granted the same commercial rights as any other British province. Vessel owners who swore an oath of allegiance were granted license to operate freely without English interference.
On November 7, Harpswell held a second special town meeting, and appointed the Selectmen as the committee responsible for the arms and equipment which were being sent from the state arsenal in Boston. They were authorized to issue out the arms, one for each person, and required each recipient to provide security that they would be returned when called for. Powder kegs, possibly from this shipment, are on display in the Harpswell Museum on Rt. 123 in Harpswell Center.
East of the Penobscot, daily life as citizens of the British Empire began to settle in. The officers of the garrison at Castine formed a theater, the actors coming from their own number. Feminine roles might be played by a young lieutenant of the infantry for lack of female players.
It was reported that, almost daily, shipments of desirable English goods entered through the port. The imports were of sufficient quantity that the US government established a customs office in Hampden, which collected approximately $150,000 in duties.
When winter brought the freezing of the river, intrepid Mainers could be found crossing the ice in sleighs loaded with contraband to avoid taxes.
One has to wonder to what extent the pillars of the community were profiting from this illegal trade. One night a customs agent apprehended a smuggler with a sleigh full of illegal goods. With Yankee gall, the miscreant charged the agent with highway robbery. Examined by the same magistrates who had appointed him, the unfortunate official was shipped off to prison in Augusta!
The Treaty of Ghent, which ended the War of 1812, also terminated the Province of New Ireland. On April 25, 1815, the British quietly evacuated all territory held in Maine and the US government retained control. Historian William Williamson, in 1832, recounted that the local inhabitants rejoiced, but given the commerce enjoyed during that time, how deep was that sentiment? One is left to wonder what might have been the consequences, what the State of Maine might be like today, had the negotiations left the territory east of the Penobscot as British territory.
For further reading, the author recommends The History of the State of Maine by William Williamson. Published in 1832, it is available online. Penobscot: Downeast Paradise by Gorham Munson (1958) also gives many interesting accounts of the area and its history and is a good read.
Friday, August 27, 2010
The Enemy At the Gates: The British Invasion of Maine Part 3
The Battle of Hampden
Recognizing the need to eliminate the potential threat of a refitted Adams, a part of the fleet, led by Dragon and accompanied by a transport with 500 light infantry and artillery, was dispatched up the river to destroy it and capture merchant vessels anchored at Hampden, one of which had recently arrived from Rochelle, France with a rich cargo of silk, wine and brandy.
Aware of the British advance, Morris ordered the guns removed from Adams and constructed shore batteries to cover the approach up the river. As the militia trickled in during the day on September 2, he supplied any, who were unarmed, with muskets and ammunition from the ship’s stores.
Lewis and Little, meanwhile, were leading their men up the road along the west bank of the river. The latter, observing a detachment of Royal Riflemen landing to be in position to intercept them, turned his men into the woods and never reached the battle.
In the afternoon, Morris went into town to attend a council of war with General Blake, the commander of the militia and several prominent townspeople at the Hampden Academy Building. Blake had established a rough line with the right anchored on a church, extending in front of the Academy to the river. To the south was the burial ground, Sowadabscook Stream and Pitcher’s Brook. Pickets were placed overlooking Bald Hill Cove approximately three miles down the river.
Morris was dismayed to find total confusion. Blake had developed no clear plan for the 500 men, who were arriving, no positions had been prepared, and the townspeople were advocating no resistance relying instead on British magnanimity.
At sunset, Barrie’s troops aboard the transport landed on the shores of Bald Hill Cove. These were light infantry riflemen, with weapons more accurate and of longer range than the standard smoothbore musket. Elite troops, they had served with Wellington.
Blake’s pickets withdrew.
Throughout the long, rainy night the throng of citizen soldiers stood to arms. To untrained farmers and tradesmen, most of whom had never heard a shot fired in anger, the night was long indeed. Rumors would have flown up and down the line. The stress would have rendered many inconveniently ill.
The morning of September 3 came with a thick fog and movement of the British troops.
Through faulty intelligence, they believed they were facing 1400 militia, thus moved cautiously up the road towards Hampden with a local guide pressed into service. A line of skirmishers was thrown across the front followed by a company of the 60th Regiment, a green-coated regiment formed in great part from German and Dutch prisoners of war unhappy at being forced to support Napoleon. The flanks were guarded by detachments of marines from the ships. Behind it in support followed a second company of the 29th Regiment trailed by a battery of light artillery.
Around 8 AM, marching in quickstep, they broke out of the fog almost upon the startled Mainers, who fired a ragged volley at them. Immediately the center of the militia line collapsed, and without orders began a swift retreat. Morris, his men firing downriver at the British ships and landing barges, saw the collapse and ordered his guns to be spiked and the Adams set ablaze.
Within an hour, the British were in possession of Hampden. The battle, which turned out to be the last in the northern theater of the war, was nearly bloodless. One notable casualty was the unfortunate pressed into service by the British as a guide.
The citizens, who had counted on British magnanimity were sorely disappointed as their cattle were killed and houses sacked. Pleading to CPT Barrie for humanity, he responded, “I have none for you. I will spare your lives, though I mean to burn your houses.” Many were taken to the ships to be detained and a bond of $12,000 was levied on the town.
Two thirds of Barrie’s troops pressed upriver to Bangor. There was no stomach for fighting in Bangor where the citizens determined to rely on Barrie’s good will, and under a flag of truce, surrendered the town unconditionally. Some of them must have felt that resistance might have been the better course as public buildings were commandeered, foodstuffs confiscated and the troops set free to loot. After receiving a pledge of a $30,000 bond, Barrie called off his men.
They then bedded down for what must have been an uneasy night in Bangor. When the next day dawned, the occupiers busied themselves with burning a few more vessels anchored in or on the stocks in the river, and withdrew to Hampden.
Barrie’s men then began boarding the transports to return to Castine, stopping along the way in Frankfort to relieve the townspeople there of a large number of oxen, sheep and geese. On September 7 the victorious force dropped anchor in Castine. The Penobscot River campaign had ended.
To be continued
Recognizing the need to eliminate the potential threat of a refitted Adams, a part of the fleet, led by Dragon and accompanied by a transport with 500 light infantry and artillery, was dispatched up the river to destroy it and capture merchant vessels anchored at Hampden, one of which had recently arrived from Rochelle, France with a rich cargo of silk, wine and brandy.
Aware of the British advance, Morris ordered the guns removed from Adams and constructed shore batteries to cover the approach up the river. As the militia trickled in during the day on September 2, he supplied any, who were unarmed, with muskets and ammunition from the ship’s stores.
Lewis and Little, meanwhile, were leading their men up the road along the west bank of the river. The latter, observing a detachment of Royal Riflemen landing to be in position to intercept them, turned his men into the woods and never reached the battle.
In the afternoon, Morris went into town to attend a council of war with General Blake, the commander of the militia and several prominent townspeople at the Hampden Academy Building. Blake had established a rough line with the right anchored on a church, extending in front of the Academy to the river. To the south was the burial ground, Sowadabscook Stream and Pitcher’s Brook. Pickets were placed overlooking Bald Hill Cove approximately three miles down the river.
Morris was dismayed to find total confusion. Blake had developed no clear plan for the 500 men, who were arriving, no positions had been prepared, and the townspeople were advocating no resistance relying instead on British magnanimity.
At sunset, Barrie’s troops aboard the transport landed on the shores of Bald Hill Cove. These were light infantry riflemen, with weapons more accurate and of longer range than the standard smoothbore musket. Elite troops, they had served with Wellington.
Blake’s pickets withdrew.
Throughout the long, rainy night the throng of citizen soldiers stood to arms. To untrained farmers and tradesmen, most of whom had never heard a shot fired in anger, the night was long indeed. Rumors would have flown up and down the line. The stress would have rendered many inconveniently ill.
The morning of September 3 came with a thick fog and movement of the British troops.
Through faulty intelligence, they believed they were facing 1400 militia, thus moved cautiously up the road towards Hampden with a local guide pressed into service. A line of skirmishers was thrown across the front followed by a company of the 60th Regiment, a green-coated regiment formed in great part from German and Dutch prisoners of war unhappy at being forced to support Napoleon. The flanks were guarded by detachments of marines from the ships. Behind it in support followed a second company of the 29th Regiment trailed by a battery of light artillery.
Around 8 AM, marching in quickstep, they broke out of the fog almost upon the startled Mainers, who fired a ragged volley at them. Immediately the center of the militia line collapsed, and without orders began a swift retreat. Morris, his men firing downriver at the British ships and landing barges, saw the collapse and ordered his guns to be spiked and the Adams set ablaze.
Within an hour, the British were in possession of Hampden. The battle, which turned out to be the last in the northern theater of the war, was nearly bloodless. One notable casualty was the unfortunate pressed into service by the British as a guide.
The citizens, who had counted on British magnanimity were sorely disappointed as their cattle were killed and houses sacked. Pleading to CPT Barrie for humanity, he responded, “I have none for you. I will spare your lives, though I mean to burn your houses.” Many were taken to the ships to be detained and a bond of $12,000 was levied on the town.
Two thirds of Barrie’s troops pressed upriver to Bangor. There was no stomach for fighting in Bangor where the citizens determined to rely on Barrie’s good will, and under a flag of truce, surrendered the town unconditionally. Some of them must have felt that resistance might have been the better course as public buildings were commandeered, foodstuffs confiscated and the troops set free to loot. After receiving a pledge of a $30,000 bond, Barrie called off his men.
They then bedded down for what must have been an uneasy night in Bangor. When the next day dawned, the occupiers busied themselves with burning a few more vessels anchored in or on the stocks in the river, and withdrew to Hampden.
Barrie’s men then began boarding the transports to return to Castine, stopping along the way in Frankfort to relieve the townspeople there of a large number of oxen, sheep and geese. On September 7 the victorious force dropped anchor in Castine. The Penobscot River campaign had ended.
To be continued
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Enemy At the Gates: The British Invasion of Maine Part 2
The Arrival of the Adams
Concern spread quickly along the coast as militia units stood to arms. The militia in Bangor was ordered to reinforce the regular troops in Castine. In Machias, the citizens prepared to evacuate ahead of what was sure to come.
On July 25, Harpswell held a special town meeting electing Stephen Purinton to go to Boston as the town’s agent to collect Harpswell’s quota of the state arms and ammunition, providing he could procure them at state expense with no cost to the town.
At the same time, CPT Robert Barrie, commanding the 74 gun HMS Dragon arrived in Halifax with a convoy of supply ships in tow. Using Dragon as the lead, a powerful task force consisting of three 74’s, two frigates recently transferred from the Mediterranean, several smaller ships and transports with approximately 3,000 men and families from the 60th, 62nd, and 98th regiments was readied for action in the Machias and Penobscot Bay areas.
On September 1, this powerful fleet dropped anchor in the harbor of Castine. The two detachments for American troops, 28 regulars under the command of LT Lewis and 98 militia led by LT Little, sensing the precariousness of their position, blew up the fort before being called upon to surrender and fled up the bay to Bucksport with Lewis’ men dragging along two three pound field pieces.
The invaders began ferrying ashore, where they commandeered the largest buildings as barracks and the finest homes as officers’ quarters. Foraging parties were sent out to the surrounding farms over the next few days to bring in fresh food. A messenger, flying the Union Jack, was sent across the bay to Belfast bearing a warning to the citizens there that no harm would come to them if they did not interfere in British operations.
The US troops withdrawing to Bucksport accomplished a successful river crossing during the night, leaving the field pieces behind. Their pursuers recovered them after threatening to put the town to the torch.
Several weeks prior to the invasion, the 24 gun corvette USS Adams, under the command of Charles Morris, a former lieutenant on the USS Constitution had been preying on British shipping, but in severe weather, had barely survived grounding on a ledge off Isle au Haut.
Limping the stricken ship into Camden, Morris discharged his prisoners, but ascertained that port to be too vulnerable to accomplish needed repairs. So, he slipped up the Penobscot River to the mouth of Sowadabscook Stream at the southern end of the town of Hampden where repairs could be made in relative safety.
The enlisted prisoners, meanwhile, were marched off from Camden to internment at Ft. Edgecomb near Wiscassett, while, as was customary, the officers were released on parole. This group had no intention of honoring the terms of their release, however, and bribed a local resident to sail them to Eastport and the British garrison there.
In an event, which could only be described as comical, as they began to make their getaway, they discovered there was no liquor on board the boat, so one of their number went back on shore where he was promptly arrested in a store while trying to make the purchase. The rest fled, pursued by faster American boats, which overtook them and turned back towards Camden. So jubilant and overconfident were these Mainers at their capture of their former prisoners, that the escapees were able to turn the tables on their captors, take over the boats and sail safely to the shelter of the British lines.
To be continued
Concern spread quickly along the coast as militia units stood to arms. The militia in Bangor was ordered to reinforce the regular troops in Castine. In Machias, the citizens prepared to evacuate ahead of what was sure to come.
On July 25, Harpswell held a special town meeting electing Stephen Purinton to go to Boston as the town’s agent to collect Harpswell’s quota of the state arms and ammunition, providing he could procure them at state expense with no cost to the town.
At the same time, CPT Robert Barrie, commanding the 74 gun HMS Dragon arrived in Halifax with a convoy of supply ships in tow. Using Dragon as the lead, a powerful task force consisting of three 74’s, two frigates recently transferred from the Mediterranean, several smaller ships and transports with approximately 3,000 men and families from the 60th, 62nd, and 98th regiments was readied for action in the Machias and Penobscot Bay areas.
On September 1, this powerful fleet dropped anchor in the harbor of Castine. The two detachments for American troops, 28 regulars under the command of LT Lewis and 98 militia led by LT Little, sensing the precariousness of their position, blew up the fort before being called upon to surrender and fled up the bay to Bucksport with Lewis’ men dragging along two three pound field pieces.
The invaders began ferrying ashore, where they commandeered the largest buildings as barracks and the finest homes as officers’ quarters. Foraging parties were sent out to the surrounding farms over the next few days to bring in fresh food. A messenger, flying the Union Jack, was sent across the bay to Belfast bearing a warning to the citizens there that no harm would come to them if they did not interfere in British operations.
The US troops withdrawing to Bucksport accomplished a successful river crossing during the night, leaving the field pieces behind. Their pursuers recovered them after threatening to put the town to the torch.
Several weeks prior to the invasion, the 24 gun corvette USS Adams, under the command of Charles Morris, a former lieutenant on the USS Constitution had been preying on British shipping, but in severe weather, had barely survived grounding on a ledge off Isle au Haut.
Limping the stricken ship into Camden, Morris discharged his prisoners, but ascertained that port to be too vulnerable to accomplish needed repairs. So, he slipped up the Penobscot River to the mouth of Sowadabscook Stream at the southern end of the town of Hampden where repairs could be made in relative safety.
The enlisted prisoners, meanwhile, were marched off from Camden to internment at Ft. Edgecomb near Wiscassett, while, as was customary, the officers were released on parole. This group had no intention of honoring the terms of their release, however, and bribed a local resident to sail them to Eastport and the British garrison there.
In an event, which could only be described as comical, as they began to make their getaway, they discovered there was no liquor on board the boat, so one of their number went back on shore where he was promptly arrested in a store while trying to make the purchase. The rest fled, pursued by faster American boats, which overtook them and turned back towards Camden. So jubilant and overconfident were these Mainers at their capture of their former prisoners, that the escapees were able to turn the tables on their captors, take over the boats and sail safely to the shelter of the British lines.
To be continued
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Enemy At the Gates: The British Invasion of Maine
In September 1814 the War of 1812, which had for the most part passed Maine by, came to its shores in earnest. A little known part of American history, it had the potential to radically change not only this state, but the entire nation as well.
The march towards open conflict with England had begun since the early days of the United States’ independence, finally coming to a head over England’s attempts at restricting American trade, particularly with Napoleon’s Europe and the Royal Navy’s practice of impressing American sailors into its service on the high seas.
With its long, well-harbored coastline and seafaring tradition, it was, perhaps, inevitable that Maine, then part of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, would be drawn deeply into the war.
President Jefferson’s Embargo Act of 1807, which had prohibited the exportation of any merchandise from the U.S. had caused an economic depression in Maine. Up and down the coast, goods rotted in warehouses, ships lay idle at wharves and seamen were unemployed. Although the act was repealed in 1809, its memory created a strong anti-war sentiment along the Eastern Seaboard.
At a special Harpswell town meeting held on August 24, 1812, for example, Stephen Purinton and John Curtis were elected delegates to a county convention “to take measures to alleviate the miseries of war and bring about a speedy and lasting peace.”
With the declaration of war in 1812, the British, were aware the sentiment for war was centered mainly in the south and west, and realizing profit could be gained from continued trade, decided to leave New England be. It was said in Maine at the time, a young man wanting action should sign aboard a privateer and not join the militia.
Even when the president called for militia units to be placed under federal control, Governor Strong disregarded the order, stating it would leave the Commonwealth undefended in violation of the Massachusetts constitution. George Ulmer was given a presidential commission of colonel and placed in command of the regular troops at Ft. Sullivan in Eastport, ME. “It was Ulmer’s design and duty,” wrote one Maine historian, “To prevent, if possible, all smuggling and intercourse with the enemy, in the faithful discharge of which, he gave to the inhabitants some affront.” Ulmer’s reward for attempting to eliminate commerce in contraband was to be relieved of command.
The brief, sharp engagement between the USS Enterprise and HMS Boxer off Monhegan Island in September 1813 was a brief reminder to Maine that there was a war going on.
To reinforce the defense of Eastport, two additional forts were established at Robbinston, garrisoned with 30 men, and a 70 man force stationed on Moose Island.
In the summer of 1814, war finally arrived, when on July 11, an expedition launched secretly from Halifax, NS, led by the 74 gun HMS Ramilies anchored off Eastport. Commodore Sir Thomas Hardy demanded an immediate surrender. The new American commander, Maj. Putnam, demurred, but through pressure from the local inhabitants, struck his colors without resistance. Hardy ordered 1000 soldiers from the 102nd regiment put ashore along with a number of their wives and children. All public property was immediately confiscated, and the surrendering Americans were placed aboard a prison ship.
$9,000 in unsigned Treasury Notes was seized, which the customs collector refused to sign even under threat of death. Hardy did not carry out the threat and issued a proclamation declaring US laws would remain in effect but ordering all inhabitants to swear an oath of allegiance to the Crown. Eventually about 2/3 of the population did so. To secure his conquests, he left inn place a garrison of 800 men and a Royal Customs collector.
Almost instantly resourceful locals began a brisk smuggling operation of cattle and local goods into the British lines.
To further secure the area, a party was dispatched to drive out the garrison at Robbinston. The lieutenant in charge, realizing opposition to the highly trained, motivated British troops was futile, ordered the destruction of everything that could not be taken and withdrew to Machias. An additional British raiding party was put ashore to spike the guns at the fort below Thomaston, rendering them useless.
To be continued
The march towards open conflict with England had begun since the early days of the United States’ independence, finally coming to a head over England’s attempts at restricting American trade, particularly with Napoleon’s Europe and the Royal Navy’s practice of impressing American sailors into its service on the high seas.
With its long, well-harbored coastline and seafaring tradition, it was, perhaps, inevitable that Maine, then part of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, would be drawn deeply into the war.
President Jefferson’s Embargo Act of 1807, which had prohibited the exportation of any merchandise from the U.S. had caused an economic depression in Maine. Up and down the coast, goods rotted in warehouses, ships lay idle at wharves and seamen were unemployed. Although the act was repealed in 1809, its memory created a strong anti-war sentiment along the Eastern Seaboard.
At a special Harpswell town meeting held on August 24, 1812, for example, Stephen Purinton and John Curtis were elected delegates to a county convention “to take measures to alleviate the miseries of war and bring about a speedy and lasting peace.”
With the declaration of war in 1812, the British, were aware the sentiment for war was centered mainly in the south and west, and realizing profit could be gained from continued trade, decided to leave New England be. It was said in Maine at the time, a young man wanting action should sign aboard a privateer and not join the militia.
Even when the president called for militia units to be placed under federal control, Governor Strong disregarded the order, stating it would leave the Commonwealth undefended in violation of the Massachusetts constitution. George Ulmer was given a presidential commission of colonel and placed in command of the regular troops at Ft. Sullivan in Eastport, ME. “It was Ulmer’s design and duty,” wrote one Maine historian, “To prevent, if possible, all smuggling and intercourse with the enemy, in the faithful discharge of which, he gave to the inhabitants some affront.” Ulmer’s reward for attempting to eliminate commerce in contraband was to be relieved of command.
The brief, sharp engagement between the USS Enterprise and HMS Boxer off Monhegan Island in September 1813 was a brief reminder to Maine that there was a war going on.
To reinforce the defense of Eastport, two additional forts were established at Robbinston, garrisoned with 30 men, and a 70 man force stationed on Moose Island.
In the summer of 1814, war finally arrived, when on July 11, an expedition launched secretly from Halifax, NS, led by the 74 gun HMS Ramilies anchored off Eastport. Commodore Sir Thomas Hardy demanded an immediate surrender. The new American commander, Maj. Putnam, demurred, but through pressure from the local inhabitants, struck his colors without resistance. Hardy ordered 1000 soldiers from the 102nd regiment put ashore along with a number of their wives and children. All public property was immediately confiscated, and the surrendering Americans were placed aboard a prison ship.
$9,000 in unsigned Treasury Notes was seized, which the customs collector refused to sign even under threat of death. Hardy did not carry out the threat and issued a proclamation declaring US laws would remain in effect but ordering all inhabitants to swear an oath of allegiance to the Crown. Eventually about 2/3 of the population did so. To secure his conquests, he left inn place a garrison of 800 men and a Royal Customs collector.
Almost instantly resourceful locals began a brisk smuggling operation of cattle and local goods into the British lines.
To further secure the area, a party was dispatched to drive out the garrison at Robbinston. The lieutenant in charge, realizing opposition to the highly trained, motivated British troops was futile, ordered the destruction of everything that could not be taken and withdrew to Machias. An additional British raiding party was put ashore to spike the guns at the fort below Thomaston, rendering them useless.
To be continued
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Rusty Rails
I like to watch railroad tracks, or, more specifically, abandoned or little used rails. They are a link to what was, the way we traveled, the way we got things, the way we even celebrated holidays.
Train time was an event. When my brother was born, my grandmother came over from New Hampshire on the train to take care of my sister and me while my mother was in the hospital. We drove downtown to the stately granite, oak and polished brass station to await her arrival. A few people waited in the darkening evening. There were folks waiting for arrivals such as we were, others leaving for parts unknown, one or two sailors departing for leave from the naval air station. Now and again we would go out onto the cold platform, even though we knew what time the train would arrive. And arrive it did. The rails had been converted to diesel by then, but we could hear the lonesome horn to the west, echoing as the engine passed through Deep Cut on the old Maine Central Line. The train stopped with a squeal of steel on steel, and my grandmother stepped down from the shiny car. It was all so thrilling.
Children’s books told us of how the good things we ate and everything else arrived in box cars behind the hard working engines. New cars were unloaded for the local dealerships, coal and oil were brought onto the siding at Brunswick Coal and Lumber to heat up our homes. Long trains filled with cement, potatoes, and wood products rumbled through town on their way to bigger places like Boston, New York and beyond.
The box cars were lessons in geography to us: The Louisville & Nashville, New York, Hartford & New Haven; Delaware & Hudson; and the Canadian National and Grand Trunk railroads.
But best of all was after Thanksgiving in early December, when the railway express cars would be shunted to the Railway Express depot, disgorging brown paper wrapped packages from distant relatives or large boxes from catalog stores. Christmas fever was boosted to a higher pitch, when the olive drab delivery trucks started up and down the street, stopping next door or even at your own place because every kid knew what that meant: presents were starting to arrive.
But all that is gone now. The few trains that come through are sorry affairs; one or two unmarked, unremarkable, rusting storage sheds on wheels pulled by equally drab mono-colored engines. No more do kids count them and try to find out where they have come from.
Most of the track is abandoned. Leaning telegraph poles and old ties still lie scattered along them, as if someone walked away and forgot what to do with them. Those are the tracks I like to stand beside. I like the grass covered rails leading off around the next corner into the fields or woods to disappear with their stories.
Train time was an event. When my brother was born, my grandmother came over from New Hampshire on the train to take care of my sister and me while my mother was in the hospital. We drove downtown to the stately granite, oak and polished brass station to await her arrival. A few people waited in the darkening evening. There were folks waiting for arrivals such as we were, others leaving for parts unknown, one or two sailors departing for leave from the naval air station. Now and again we would go out onto the cold platform, even though we knew what time the train would arrive. And arrive it did. The rails had been converted to diesel by then, but we could hear the lonesome horn to the west, echoing as the engine passed through Deep Cut on the old Maine Central Line. The train stopped with a squeal of steel on steel, and my grandmother stepped down from the shiny car. It was all so thrilling.
Children’s books told us of how the good things we ate and everything else arrived in box cars behind the hard working engines. New cars were unloaded for the local dealerships, coal and oil were brought onto the siding at Brunswick Coal and Lumber to heat up our homes. Long trains filled with cement, potatoes, and wood products rumbled through town on their way to bigger places like Boston, New York and beyond.
The box cars were lessons in geography to us: The Louisville & Nashville, New York, Hartford & New Haven; Delaware & Hudson; and the Canadian National and Grand Trunk railroads.
But best of all was after Thanksgiving in early December, when the railway express cars would be shunted to the Railway Express depot, disgorging brown paper wrapped packages from distant relatives or large boxes from catalog stores. Christmas fever was boosted to a higher pitch, when the olive drab delivery trucks started up and down the street, stopping next door or even at your own place because every kid knew what that meant: presents were starting to arrive.
But all that is gone now. The few trains that come through are sorry affairs; one or two unmarked, unremarkable, rusting storage sheds on wheels pulled by equally drab mono-colored engines. No more do kids count them and try to find out where they have come from.
Most of the track is abandoned. Leaning telegraph poles and old ties still lie scattered along them, as if someone walked away and forgot what to do with them. Those are the tracks I like to stand beside. I like the grass covered rails leading off around the next corner into the fields or woods to disappear with their stories.
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