The War with Mexico/Volume 2/Chapter 30
XXX
THE NAVAL OPERATIONS OF THE WAR
1845-1848
In January, 1846, the United States had available for naval hostilities one ship-of-the-line, seven frigates and razees, fifteen sloops-of-war, six brigs, one schooner and three steamers—that is to say, thirty-three war craft. As ships-of-the-line carried more than seventy guns, frigates about forty-four to fifty, sloops twenty, brigs ten and other vessels in proportion, this fleet had 1155 cannon. Two of the vessels, under Commodore James Biddle, were on the coast of Asia; several occupied the Brazil station; and five cruised in African waters to check the trade in slaves. The Pacific squadron, commanded by Commodore John D. Sloat, comprised on July 1, 1846, the frigate Savannah, the sloops Portsmouth, Levant, Warren and Cyane, the schooner Shark and the storeship Erie, to which the frigate Congress, the razee Independence and the sloops Dale, Saratoga and Preble were added later in the year, while the Levant went home; and substantially all the rest of the fleet, known as the Home Squadron, attended to the West Indies and Gulf service, under Commodore David Conner.[1]
The appropriation for the year ending with June, 1846, was a little less than ten millions, but only about six and a half millions were expended. The war bill of May 13 permitted the completion of all vessels then building and the purchase of others; and by November, 1847, after suffering a number of losses, the navy had in commission five ships-of-the-line, one razee, four frigates, thirteen sloops, six brigs, eleven schooners, four bomb-vessels, twelve steamers and six storeships.[2]
The peace establishment created by Congress in 1844 provided for 7500 petty officers, seamen, landsmen and boys, and in August, 1846, this number was raised to 10,000 for the period of the war; but owing to the remarkable activity of the merchant marine and the consequently high wages, men could not easily be obtained. During the most important year — November, 1846, to November, 1847 — not over 8000 were in the fleet at any one time. The whole number of seamen employed in the course of the war did not exceed 7000; and hence plans to strengthen our forces in the Gulf and the Pacific had to be curtailed. The service, too, did not enjoy unqualified popularity. In the sailor's decalogue appeared this commandment:
"Six days shalt thou work
And do all thou art able,
On the seventh thou shalt holystone
The deck and scrape the cable";
and the cannon had to be rubbed with fragrant "sea pitch": from the bottom of the ocean until they shone like Japanese lacquer. Discipline, therefore, not reinforced by the enthusiasm and the necessities of war, fell considerably below its reputation, and the crews were eager to be free when their time: expired. The officers, even, had become lax after thirty years of peace, and in too many instances their standards of conduct had given way.[3]
In the administration of the navy, also, the effects of a long peace could be seen. The control of matters had fallen, though not by accident, into the hands of shrewd officers deeply interested in themselves and their friends. Supernumeraries abounded. 'Those who drew the most pay often rendered the least service. The pet ambition was for a safe, quiet and easy position. Shore billets were too numerous. No field officer of the Marines had cruised since his promotion, and one of them had been in the service more than a generation without going to sea. Secretary Bancroft, eager for distinction, undertook to eliminate the abuses, but only succeeded in eliminating himself. He had taught Greek, and was ridiculed by the naval men as undertaking to play the pedagogue over them. Having no dominating force of character nor even a commanding presence, he could not stand against the governing clique. The requirements of the war, which might have assisted an abler administrator to win the day, only increased his difficulties. The Senate refused to confirm some of his appointees; and early in September, 1846, he became our minister to England.[4]
J. Y. Mason, who succeeded him, was a fat, easy, agreeable man, quite innocent of the desire to achieve reforms. Nobody disliked him, but nobody felt obliged to obey him; and as late as the twentieth of February, 1847, suddenly discovering that Scott had mentioned certain designs of the army against Vera Cruz, he awoke to the fact that his department had failed to give the anticipated assistance. Just what could be expected of the navy under all these prejudicial conditions was, therefore, in some minds, a little uncertain.[5]
One of the most serious duties imposed upon it was to guard against privateering, for not only our commerce but the supplies required by our troops depended upon free lanes. About the middle of 1845 the government issued orders that any activity of such a kind on the part of Mexico should be considered the signal for war; and as a deterrent it was announced by the newspapers, though incorrectly, that privateersmen were to be regarded as pirates. Crews not predominantly composed of Mexicans, it was often asserted, could legally be "strung up to the yard-arm," since we were understood to have treaties that sanctioned this principle with most countries.[6]
After the war actually began, a great deal of danger was apprehended. Desperate characters were believed to be waiting at New Orleans, and "piratical gangs" in the ports of Cuba, where Almonte seemed to be at work. News arrived early in August, 1846, that privateering regulations had been issued by Mexico, and suspicious craft soon appeared off Key West. In December the Mexican minister of war openly avowed that great hopes of injuring the United States in this manner were entertained. Blank certificates and commissions reached Washington; information regarding efforts to set vessels at work in various quarters arrived there; and finally the Carmelita of Bangor, Maine, was captured near Gibraltar by a felucca named El Unico, fitted out at Oran, Algeria, and run by Spanish desperadoes.[7]
Mexico had not in reality, after studying the subject with deep interest, much expectation of accomplishing any large results by issuing letters of marque, and the regulations of July, 1846, were intended principally or wholly to annoy this country; but in September and October she took the matter up rather seriously. A new law provided that any foreigner entering her naval service might become a Mexican at once, and blank naturalization papers as well as thousands of privateering commissions, duly signed but not filled out, were carried by agents to the West Indies, Great Britain, France and Spain. Almonte did his' best at Havana. J. N. Pareda, appointed Mexican chargé d'affaires at Madrid, appears to have circulated the documents actively in the Peninsular ports; and another privateer, a Spanish steamer named La Rosita, put out from Oran.[8]
On the other hand, the representatives of the United States insisted upon our treaties and the obligations of neutrality. Polk's annual Message of December, 1846, denounced the Mexican plan as inviting "all the freebooters upon earth," who felt like paying for the privilege, to cruise aganist American commerce, announced that our own courts would say whether such papers could protect them from the pirate's doom, recommended that Congress provide at once for the trial of Spanish subjects caught in such business, and suggested American privateers — intended mainly to recapture vessels taken under Mexican letters. An American force hastened to the Mediterranean, and our squadrons were expected to seize all the rovers putting out, as well as intercept all prizes on their way to the enemy's ports. These precautions looked rather discouraging to enterprising desperadoes.[9]
In England there was a feeling, as will appear later, that Mexico should be allowed the utmost license against us, and the Mexican minister at London received many applications for letters; but Great Britain did not really wish her supplies of cotton to be endangered, and all the seas to be filled with corsairs preying upon the trade of the world; and in October, 1845, her minister to Mexico was instructed to prevent that country, if he could, from issuing letters of marque indiscriminately. Bankhead protested also, as did the Spanish minister, against important features of the regulations. Palmerston himself, though he acted in a languid fashion, and gave notice at Washington that British subjects, found on Mexican privateers, could not be treated as pirates, announced that his government would faithfully do its duty.[10]
France was prompt and active in responding to our demands. Spain, placed under stringent obligations by the treaty of October, 1795, promised full compliance with its requirements, captured El Unico, punished its crew, pursued La Rosita, and ordered O'Donnell, the captain general of Cuba, to act as her obligations required; but she accepted Pareda, the colporteur of what was piracy under her agreement, as consul of Mexico; and the captain general, while he convinced the American representative of his good-will and in fact would not permit an open violation of the treaty, suggested to the Mexicans ways — fortunately impracticable — of evading his own rules. But the risks of privateering under so many embarrassments and the virtual impossibility of converting a prize into cash, prevented all attempts except the feeble ones already mentioned. In this field, consequently, our navy, though incessantly watchful, could acquire no laurels.[11]
Another aspect of the situation concerned it more seriously. On the day Congress passed the war bill (May 13, 1846) orders were issued to blockade the ports of Mexico. Several definite aims prompted this action. Primarily, of course, it was desired to prevent supplies of all kinds from reaching the enemy, and to deprive them of the almost indispensable revenues obtained in peace by taxing imports; but there were also hopes that loss of business would induce Great Britain and France, which had a profitable trade in that quarter, to urge upon Mexico the acceptance of our terms. 'The blockade was therefore to be enforced vigorously. At the same time neutrals were to be treated with all reasonable indulgence. Theoretically only their war vessels had the right of entering closed ports, but practically the intention was to broaden that narrow door considerably. Toward itself, however, the United States determined to be strictly faithful in observing its declared principles. Merely those ports where the order could become effective were in view. The announcement of blockade was to be made as public as it could be; and in particular the government required that a full warning should be given to neutral ships.[12]
For the work thus imposed upon him Conner had ample time to prepare. As early as August, 1845, he was directed to blockade the Gulf ports in case of war; early in 1846 he knew of Mexico's attitude regarding Slidell ; before the end of March his vessels occupied convenient positions ; and promptly on the outbreak of hostilities a b ockade was announced at the chief harbors. By July, with some assistance from the revenue service, it extended from the Rio Grande to the Goatzacoalcos.[13]
But the difficulty of making it continuously effective proved to be extraordinary. There were not vessels enough of the proper kind ; occasionally a more or less complete concentration became necessary; and accidents of many sorts occurred. Uncharted shoals and rocks, currents of unknown direction and force, the frequent haze, and the darkening of the light- houses made extreme caution imperative. The suddenness and violence of the storms almost surpassed belief. At Vera Cruz the Somers was blown over and sunk before Semmes, her able commander, could take steps to avert the disaster. Even at the anchorages one would suddenly hear on a calm afternoon the clarion orders of the speaking trumpet ; the ship would quiver and reverberate as the cable of the heaviest anchor ran swiftly out ; in a moment the storm would burst ; and for days it might be a question almost hourly of going ashore. At such times all sailing vessels on patrol duty had to make instantly for the open sea, and before they could return to their stations a lurking blockade runner could per- haps enter the port. Owing to such difficulties Alvarado and Frontera, for instance, could not be watched continuously.[14]
Embarrassments also of a minor yet serious character had to be encountered. Our vessels, unlike those of England, were designed exclusively for war, and long confinement impaired the efficiency of the men. The government supplies of eat- ables needed to be eked out from New Orleans huckster boats and European merchant ships. Water could not be obtained readily from a hostile shore. At the Antigua River, in July, 1846, the boats going up with casks were fired upon, and such affairs had to be expected. Vessels were despatched long dis- tances occasionally to obtain fresh provisions, but even then scurvy of a most serious nature broke out in the summer of 1846, disabling some of the largest and most efficient ships for several months. The Raritan had more than 200 cases. Nearly all on the Potomac suffered. The Falmouth had to go as far north as Boston to throw it off. Swampy shores and kelp rotting under the torrid sun produced myriads of poisonous as well as otherwise annoying insects. During a brief stay in the river off Tampico nearly all the officers and men contracted ague, and the yellow fever scourged a number of the vessels. More than two thirds of those on the Saratoga had the latter disease. In August, 1847, the Mississippi left her station with some 200 men suffering from it.[15]
Being strangers and enemies, the Americans labored under peculiar disadvantages. The people gladly assisted blockade runners in every possible way. Spanish captains in particular, having friends on shore and pilots thoroughly familiar with the coast, could not be prevented from reaching harbor at night or in thick weather by way of the shoals. Sometimes it looked, for one or another of these many reasons, as if our officers were careless or incompetent. Army observers, not well informed regarding the conditions, felt disposed now and then to pronounce the blockade a humbug, and naturally some foreigners did so. This opinion had neither truth nor probability in its favor. But naturally, in view of all the circumstances, it proved more satisfactory to occupy the ports, and open them to commerce on the basis of a reasonable contributory tariff.[16]
Besides cruising to watch for privateers and hovering off the chief harbors to maintain a blockade, our fleet was expected to share in the general offensive. . For one thing Bancroft ordered Conner to seize all the Mexican war vessels that he could reach. But here a singular difficulty arose: none of that sort existed. The navy of Mexico, aside from small craft in the Pacific, included nine vessels amounting to about 38200 tons. The most important were the steamers Guadalupe and Moctezuma, built in England, which made up nearly two thirds of this meagre total; but as these had never been paid for, they were easily transferred to a British firm, and in con-sequence of a calm succeeded in escaping to Havana. The rest of the vessels — a small brig, which changed its name too often to have one, and six even smaller craft — took refuge early in the Alvarado River. The commander sank three of them to obstruct the channel, and when Hunter took Alvarado in April, 1847, the rest were burned.[17]
Conner's only chance for offensive work, therefore, aside from capturing a merchant vessel occasionally, was to engage in shore operations; and while the officers and men felt eager to get a nearer view of the scenery, as they said, and rival the glories of the army, they found themselves embarrassed by the same difficulties that attended blockading and by others also. The want of tenders and storeships proved especially serious when hostilities were in view. Each vessel had to obtain supplies at the Pensacola navy yard; the round trip cost a month or so; and that base lacked the needed equipment. Once it spent about four weeks in supplying the Potomac with bread for a three-months cruise, and in July, 1846, the yellow fever broke out there. A point of capital importance was to reach the small harbors and cut off all trade; but until the last of September, 1846, Conner had not a vessel that could cross the bars, tow boats over, and operate in the rivers; and the first load of coal reached him two weeks later. A shortage of officers and men hampered operations; and Mason, besides failing to anticipate such a case, failed to be awake when it occurred. By December, 1846, the Home Squadron included a substantial flotilla of small craft, mounting from one to four guns each; but the difficulty of obtaining supplies and making repairs on a hostile coast in a season of storms almost paralyzed it.[18]
Another embarrassment existed. Conner was a brave, able, accomplished, excellent man, but for a generation his business had been that of a navigator. His duty had been to go his rounds in safety, and he did it well. Nobody could handle a frigate better in a storm. He looked carefully after the health of his men, too. In thoughtfulness, prudence, judgment and fidelity he left nothing to be desired. But his constitution had never been robust, and the effects of an old wound, thirty years of service in a southern climate and the torture of neuralgia had now made him a confirmed invalid, worn and wasted, and subject at intervals to almost maddening pain. His powers both of thought and of execution were impaired. Naturally such a man did not wish to risk either men or ships; and, lacking the vigor for quick decisions and powerful action, he could not wisely involve himself in dangerous: complications. On the outbreak of war he should have retired; but he knew. that he stood high in favor at Washington, Bancroft had assured him that he could retain the command indefinitely, and no doubt he failed to realize the situation. More or less well, however, shore operations were carried on, and our next business will be to trace them from the beginning.[19]
Owing to the state of our relations with Mexico the Home Squadron concentrated at Vera Cruz in February, 1846, and later, in accordance with instructions to coöperate with Taylor, Conner presented himself at Point Isabel in time to safeguard that position during the battles on the Rio Grande, and assist in occupying Burrita. When the war bill passed, his forces consisted of the steamer Mississippi, which could tow a number of small craft at full speed, the steamer Princeton, a swift vessel designed by the celebrated Ericsson, the handsome frigate Raritan, which flew the broad blue pennant of the Commodore at the main, the frigates Cumberland and Potomac, the sloops Falmouth, John Adams and St. Mary's, the brigs Porpoise and Somers and the schooner Flirt, with probably some 2700 men. Leaving the Brazos about the twentieth of May Conner sailed with a part of the squadron for Pensacola, while other vessels did blockade work or scouted along the coast as far as Yucatan. In June Captain Saunders of the St. Mary's, lying off Tampico bar, opened fire twice on the Mexicans, who seemed to be erecting works, and made a bold, well-planned effort against three gunboats anchored inside the mouth of the Pánuco, which only circumstances defeated. By August the composition of the squadron and its distribution changed somewhat; three small schooner-gunboats had arrived; but there was no material difference in strength.[20]
Meanwhile Conner had in mind the small, handy Mexican vessels then lying in Alvarado River, which did nobody any good there, and were capable of assisting in his work materially. It seemed very proper to seize or at least destroy them. From residents of Alvarado, who traded with the Americans, useful information was doubtless obtained; and the master of a captured launch, well fed and well frightened, gave correct details regarding the bar, channel and shipping. A redoubt stood near the beach, but it contained no large guns; and, although warned by the questioning of the launch's master, the Mexicans gathered no forces except some 200 militia in the town and about as many more several hours distant up the river. The situation invited a bold stroke.[21]
Accordingly the Mississippi and Princeton, two frigates and the schooner-gunboats—each of these mounting one piece—dropped anchor in line opposite the fort at eleven o'clock in the morning, August 7, 1846, and the steamers opened a fire, to which the lightness of the Mexican ordnance permitted no reply. The bombardment continued more or less actively for about six hours, but without effect. Owing to the swift current of the river, swollen by heavy rains, it seemed hardly possible to row up to the town, and finally the gunboats were placed within musket range of the shore some distance north of the fort. Apparently the intention was to land under the protection of our artillery. The Mexicans therefore opened a small-arms fire from the sand-hills, to which our cannon and the muskets on the gunboats replied; but in about half an hour darkness put an end to the operations. Bad weather came on immediately; the open roadstead was unsafe; and after nightfall, although it had been proposed to resume the attack the next day, Conner withdrew with his disgusted men to Antón Lizardo.[22]
The following month one of the bureau chiefs gave him to understand that the administration wished something done for the newspapers to make a "noise" about, and another attempt upon the same position was planned. By this time the enemy had improved the defences, 
and mounted a heavy pivot gun on a high knoll; and a letter from one of our sailors, picked up on the beach, gave them ample notice of the attack. These facts did not signify materially, however, for the Americans realized they must positively win a victory this time, and braced themselves for whatever might occur. A little after sunrise, October 15, the Mississippi, the Vixen (a small steamer carrying three guns which had recently joined the squadron), the McLane (a steamer loaned by the revenue service), the three gunboats, the Nonata (a prize schooner mounting four guns), and a revenue schooner named the Forward arrived off the bar. The plan was to have the Mississippi cannonade with shells, and the other steamers, towing the gunboats, ascend the river.[23]
Everything went wrong, however. The Mississippi produced no effect. Owing to the strength of the current it seemed necessary to have wind, and Conner waited in vain until about 2 o'clock for the usual sea breeze. The bar stood higher than it ordinarily did; and although he, aboard the Vixen, crossed with two gunboats, the McLane grounded, and her section — the larger section — of the force was thrown into the utmost disorder amidst the breakers. Not only did the Mexican fire prove serious, for a shot struck near the wheelhouse of the Vixen, but up the river could be seen another fort, and also Mexican vessels carrying more metal than Conner now had available. He therefore retired across the bar, touching twice; and when at length his other section found itself ready to try once more, he deemed the hour too late. Besides, he now believed the McLane would be unable to go up the river with even one gunboat in tow. Again bad weather came on, and again the expedition withdrew. Officers and men were angry this time as well as disgusted; and although the Mexicans on the ground realized that accidents had saved them, a shout of triumph and encouragement rang through their country.[24]
The Mississippi now bore the red pennant of Matthew C. Perry, who was to have command of the squadron on Conner's retirement, and meantime, feeling anxious to serve, contented himself with the dignity of a vice commodore and acted as a captain; and since not only the Vixen but coal to make her effective were at last on hand, Conner despatched his energetic lieutenant southeastward, on the next day after the second Alvarado fiasco, with all the vessels employed in that affair except one of the gunboats. After seizing on the way an American barque, found in communication with Mexicans, Perry entered Tabasco River on the twenty-third, took possession of the town (Frontera), and the next day — transferring men from his flagship, which drew too much water for the bar, to the captured Petrita, a small but swift American-built steamer — he proceeded about seventy-five miles up the rapid and winding stream through heavy and splendid forests, disabling the guns of a small, deserted fort on the way, and reached San Juan Bautista, capital of the state of Tabasco, and seat of an active commerce in munitions and other goods, that reached as far as Mexico City. Here five merchant vessels fell into his possession. But now, unfamiliar with Mexican tactics, Perry blundered into peremptorily summoning the town, which J. B. Traconis, the comandante general, refused to give up.[25] San Juan Bautista was a small, dull city of broad streets and one-story brick houses, lying in a wide plain. In spite of scandalous desertion Traconis probably had about 400 men supported by two small guns. These forces he broke into a number of parties and placed in the outskirts. Perry opened fire on the town with cannon, and after a time sent a party ashore. A skirmish followed, but nothing decisive could be accomplished, and after sunset, fearing the sailors would be shot down in the streets during the night, he recalled them.[26]
On the following day the foreigners protested against the bombardment. Negotiations were then tried; but the Comandante General, who cared much for his dignity and nothing for the people, insisted on playing out his rôle of the fearless patriot. Since it was impracticable to garrison the town, Perry decided to retire. But as one of the prizes grounded near the shore and a party of the Mexicans — although a white flag could be seen on the Vixen and other vessels — fired on the Americans who were aboard, causing the death of one and injuring two more, he resumed the cannonade. Of course the enemy gracefully withdrew; and then Perry did the same, leaving Traconis to magnify his triumph. The McLane and Forward were left at Frontera to blockade the river and protect neutrals; and after burning four vessels and capturing one more on the way, Perry rejoined Conner on the last day of the month with nine prizes. In its real aim the expedition had succeeded; but the affair at San Juan Bautista had been so indecisive and murderous that even American soldiers, eager to claim credit and inured to the chances of war, felt humiliated.[27]
The fortnight of activity and excitement cheered the men of the squadron a great deal, however, and then followed the capture of Tampico, which delighted Secretary Mason beyond measure, and gave the newspapers genuine material for a "noise." When this affair, including the trip up the Pánuco, ended, Conner despatched his lieutenant southeastward in the Vixen, accompanied by two gunboats. December 21, at the town of Laguna on El Carmen Island, Yucatan, Perry seized a couple of small forts, garrisoned by a few timid soldiers, and disabled the guns; and after reinforcing the blockade of Tabasco River, looking into the coastal waters, and making two prizes on his return voyage, he joined the squadron two days after Christmas. A visit of Conner's to the same point the following month ended important operations in this quarter for some time. The occupation of Laguna checked a thriving illicit commerce by the river that entered the Gulf here.[28]
All this while the haughty, outstanding challenge — the scalp-lock, so to speak — of Mexico, the fortress of San Juan de Ulúa in Vera Cruz harbor, remained secure. The capture of it, many of our citizens felt, would wrap the Gulf in a blaze of American glory; and young Porter, young Farragut and other possible Decaturs had plans of attack ready. But older men thought the enterprise impracticable for the navy alone. At the beginning of the war Bancroft expressly notified Conner that his forces were not deemed adequate for such an undertaking. Not only had the fortress been strongly and shrewdly constructed, but the channel that led to it was narrow and winding, so that a mishap would have endangered all of the attacking vessels. The French had taken it in 1838, but only by good luck and a sort of treachery, and since that year it had been greatly strengthened. Conner and Scott agreed that it could not be captured by the fleet. But in March, 1847, misfortune overtook Ulúa, for Scott, supported brilliantly by the naval forces, laid siege to Vera Cruz.[29]
To the Home Squadron and its commander as well as to the "castle" this event signified a great deal. In fact it brought Conner both to the climax and to the tragedy of his professional career. It enabled him to display in the debarkation his real abilities; and then precipitated him on the eve of a triumph into oblivion. His regular term as commander had expired in November, 1846, and Perry notified him that a successor was ready. But Conner held Bancroft's promise of an indefinite continuance in his position; he doubtless felt that after long withholding needed means, the department owed him a chance to do something worth while; and when he found that Scott was to move against Vera Cruz, he saw his opportunity. Unfortunately for him the change of secretaries, the complaints and bold proposals of young officers, and the clamor of the public, ignorant both of what had been possible and of what had been accomplished, had undermined his position.[30]
In January, 1847, Slidell informed the government that Conner had lost not only his physical and mental vigor but the confidence of his men. The following month Perry, whose ship had gone to Norfolk for repairs, visited Washington frequently; and how that ambitious, coarse-grained, wilful man talked, one can readily imagine. Besides, while Perry's outfit of Christian graces was noticeably defective, it could not be denied that he possessed energy and a fighting temper. The government therefore decided that Conner had not "shown himself equal to the crisis." March 3 a change of commanders was ordered; and when the dénouement of the operations | at Vera Cruz approached, instead of gracefully permitting Conner to finish what he had begun, "Old Bruin," as the sailors called Perry, insisted upon his rights. March 21, therefore, his broad blue pennant went up on the Mississipi, and in a few days his name shone forth in the capitulation of Vera Cruz and Ulúa. '" Poor Commodore Conner," said Marcy.[31]
Only one important fortified place on the Gulf, Tuxpán, now flew the tricolor, and it was a point of pride to capture the town, for guns from the Truxtun — our finest brig, wrecked on the bar — had been mounted there, and the strength of the position challenged our squadron. The city stood on the left bank of a river bearing the same name and about six miles from its mouth. On the lower edge of it rose a steep eminence, Hospital Hill, with a 9-pounder not far from its base and a 32-pound carronade pivoted at its top, both of them bearing upon the river. Nearly a mile and a half below, at the junction of a tributary, stood a water battery of two 18's called Palmasola; and some distance farther down, on a bluff about sixty feet high jutting into the stream, two 32-pound carronades and a long nine in La Peña redoubt commanded the stream for perhaps two miles. In and near these forts were stationed some three or four hundred Mexicans under General Cos.[32] Early on April 17 a large American force, including the "Two Pollies," as forecastle wit or experience had christened the Spitfire and Vixen, concentrated off the mouth of the river. Perry had the channel of the bar sounded and marked with buoys, and the small steamers lightened. The next morning at high tide — near ten o'clock — in spite of serious misgivings the flotilla got through the surf into the placid river. The Spitfire, commanded by Tattnall and carrying Perry, the Vixen and another small steamer named the Scourge, then took in tow three armed schooners and some thirty rowboats, which contained four light guns and almost 1600 men; and this fine procession, adorned with brilliant pennants and ensigns, wound upward in admirable order between the low and verdant banks.[33]
Perhaps two miles below La Peña the river, here two or three hundred yards in width, straightened, the current became swifter, and the banks rose into thickly wooded hills. When the flotilla reached this point, a curl of smoke burst from the redoubt. "Go ahead fast!" signalled the Commodore. The steamers dropped their tows. The sails of the schooners filled, and hundreds of oars flashed in the now declining sun.[34]
It was a race, but more than a race. The shore artillery spoke loudly and well. The Spitfire suffered repeatedly. Tattnall was wounded. With boom after boom steamers and gunboats replied. As the Americans approached it, La Peña's fire died out. "Land and storm!" ordered Perry. "Ay, ay, sir," was the response. Amidst the thunder of cheers it was done, but the Mexicans did not wait for their visitors. Dropping rammers and sponges they ran, and the Stars and Stripes flew up. A fire from the woods was quickly silenced. No less promptly yielded the other forts; and "at a gallop" the town was captured. In all, the casualties numbered only fourteen. A few prizes fell into Perry's net above Tuxpán; the forts were demolished; the Truxtun's guns were shipped off, and leaving two vessels to blockade the river, he sailed away.[35]
After this Perry and his officers cruised for prizes, and invited a number of small ports to raise our flag — an invitation always accepted with alacrity if not enthusiasm — but his attention was chiefly fixed on the southeast. Yucatan and to a certain extent her neighbor, Tabasco, endeavored to carry water on both shoulders. The former province, which was more industrious and prosperous than any other part of Mexico, had always demanded and usually been accorded under both Spanish and Mexican rule a position of semi-independence. In recent years difficulties had arisen between her and the government, but her sympathies were entirely against the United States. Both from policy and from a sense of humanity, our desire was to see her remain neutral and to spare her the rigors of war; but Yucatan, without appreciating either our wish or our conduct, aimed simply to preserve her export commerce, her no less valued business of importing American flour, and her trade — especially in foodstuffs and munitions — with Mexico, escape all the burdens and losses of the conflict, and run no risk of later Mexican vengeance.[36]
To accomplish so difficult a task her cunning and unscrupulous politicians veered and turned, put out statements, and organized revolutions according to the exigencies of the moment. Her two chief cities, Mérida and Campeche, now joined hands and now seemed or were antagonistic. Local rivalries complicated the situation further; and on our side, owing to the distance between Washington and the Home Squadron, there could not be perfect coöperation. The blockade was therefore imposed and lifted, imposed and lifted by turns. At length, in May, 1847, Perry took possession of Laguna and E] Carmen Island, appointed a naval officer as governor, and authorized commerce under the contributory tariff; but at the same time our efforts to prevent all contraband trade, both there and by Tabasco River, continued.[37]
In June Perry decided to attack San Juan Bautista again. On the thirteenth he reached the bar at Frontera in the Mississippi, and the next day he proceeded up the river, with a flotilla of one brig, one schooner, four small steamers, three bomb-vessels and a fleet of rowboats. After easily silencing the fire of two breastworks on the way, he found obstructions in the river opposite a third, and fearing the steamers might not be able to pass them without delay, landed quickly with ten guns and more than 1100 men, and under an almost insupportable heat routed a hostile party. The steamers, however, passed on, driving the enemy from the breastwork, and by the sixteenth San Juan Bautista once more became ours. The fortifications were destroyed, and the guns put aboard.[38] Perry decided to hold the place, and on retiring left there nearly two hundred men besides four small vessels and their complements. But this proved another mistake. The Mexicans were driven from the vicinity, but when our force went back to the town, they immediately returned to blockade it; and on July 22, 
after the climate had laid low more than a third of the Americans, our garrison abandoned the place. From this time on, Perry found occupation enough in watching Tuxpán River, protecting against Mexican irregulars the ports where American customhouses existed, and patrolling the coast.[39]
During these operations of the Home Squadron significant events had been taking place also on the other coast of Mexico. Its enormous length made a strict blockade practically impossible; but on the nineteenth of August, 1846, the magnificent Stockton covered it completely—with a proclamation. It was not that he intended to declare a paper blockade, but only that he did not, like finite creatures, realize the necessity of adequate means. About three days later Du Pont in the Cyane and Hull in the Warren left California for the south. During their cruise fourteen or fifteen prizes were taken—including the Malek Adel, an armed brig—and so all probability that our commerce and whalers in the Pacific would be molested happily vanished. Guaymas was cannonaded a little (October 6), and Mazatlán suffered a rather nominal blockade of about four weeks. That period ended on the eighth of November, and for almost three months no American vessel appeared there.[40]
In February and March, 1847, the Portsmouth watched the port for about five weeks, but then it was left wide open again. England refused to recognize such a blockade. The United States admitted its illegality; 
and on the sixth of March, 1847, Commodore Biddle, now commanding the squadron, cancelled Stockton's proclamation. During the spring of 1847 Mazatlán, which had almost a monopoly of the commerce, was again blockaded for a time, and after May the summer hurricanes interdicted commerce. Since Mexico had no armed vessel of any importance in the Pacific, naval operations then became unnecessary.[41]
In July, 1847, Shubrick succeeded Biddle. As the blockade of Mazatlán had been raised, he issued on August 6 a fresh notice, covering that port, Guaymas and San Bias, and about the middle of October sailed from Monterey, California, in the Independence, accompanied by the Cyane. The rest of his active squadron—which had preceded him southward or was to join him in that quarter—consisted of the Congress, Portsmouth, Preble, Dale and two storeships. On the twenty-ninth near Cape San Lucas he met Lavallette in the Congress, and learned that after an hour's cannonading—caused by the disobliging refusal of General Campusano to surrender—Guaymas had been occupied nine days before. November 10 mountains lighted by a declining sun and canopied by a turquoise sky rose from the Gulf of California before him on the east; and soon, approaching a long, curving line of white beach, he dropped anchor near the lioness-hill of Crestón Island, which crouched, grandly recumbent, with her fore paws extended, watching over two islet cubs that slept in front of her. Here, on the mainland, was Mazatlán.[42]
For nearly eighteen months the port, second only to Vera Cruz in the value of its commerce, had been controlled by Colonel Rafael Téllez, a happy-go-lucky insurgent of convivial tastes, oriental convictions on the subject of seraglios, and aboriginal ideas touching honor. In finance he succeeded, for it was only necessary to put 
his fist, whenever it felt empty, into the till at the customhouse; but as a warrior he proved hardly equal to the crisis. In short, he retired promptly and contented himself with partially blocking the port, which our forces occupied on the eleventh. November 20 an attempt of the Americans to cut off an annoying Mexican party some ten miles from the city failed; but the town was presently fortified in such a way that it stood in no danger. Early in January, 1848, San Bias was blockaded. Manzanillo's turn came on the seventeenth of that month; and numerous expeditions, which scoured the coast and went short distances inland, seized light craft, destroyed fortifications, and captured ordnance.[43]
In tracing all these operations in the Pacific one receives a certain impression of tardiness and inefficiency. Acapulco, a point of slight commercial importance but one distinctly 
in the view of our naval commanders, escaped entirely; and other ports, especially San Bias, were apparently neglected. But the American vessels had no base near at hand. Few safe harbors could be found. Long voyages were necessary to obtain provisions and to send or pick up despatches. The sailors often found themselves compelled to do the work of soldiers ashore; and in particular vexatious duties had to be performed by the navy in Lower California.[44]
January 11, 1847, J. Y. Mason informed Stockton that both Californias were to be retained; and in the course of fifteen days, beginning with March 30, La Paz, San Lucas and San José, the chief towns of the peninsula, were occupied by our squadron. The authorities readily submitted, and the people seemed to concur. An intensely hostile spirit showed itself before long, however, and, with the aid of leaders and resources drawn from the mainland, bitter attacks — heroically resisted — were made upon our feeble posts at San José and La Paz during the fall and winter. Some American troops from upper California rendered great assistance; but Shubrick's watchful coöperation was constantly requisite, and the spirit of resistance could not be exorcised until the end of March, 1848.[45]
The naval operations on both coasts failed to win loud applause, but there were obvious reasons. The high expectations of the public, based upon the war of 1812, could not possibly be satisfied, for our navy met with no enemy on its proper element. Its work had to be plodding and monotonous. Due preparations for that had not been made, and even the best informed landsmen understood but very imperfectly the difficulties that were encountered. Under such circumstances to conduct the blockade with as much efficiency as was actually shown, depriving Mexico of revenues and to a large extent of munitions, giving general satisfaction meanwhile to foreign interests more than willing to complain, was no slight achievement; and to play at the same time so effective a part on land, especially in the conquest of California, merited far higher encomiums than were bestowed.[46]
The conduct of naval men in occupied territory crowned their services. At Mazatlán, for example, Shubrick announced that he would exert himself to benefit, not injure, the people. Religious freedom, the protection of person and property, firm support of the city authorities, a low tariff and unrestricted commerce — except in munitions and with Mexican ports — were granted. Vexatious taxes that burdened the poor disappeared, and a wise, economical fiscal system took their place. The sale of ardent spirits to men in our service was prohibited. The Americans mingled freely with the people and, as the local historian admitted, "behaved like gentlemen." After six weeks of this régime Shubrick was formally requested by the merchants to stay there. At Guaymas a similar policy produced similar results, and the people felt anxious to have Campusano's forces leave the vicinity. Laguna became under our authority more prosperous than ever before. The naval balls and parties were extremely popular; and even after peace came, the Commodore was "most earnestly" requested by the people to let our forces remain for a while.[47]