Old Ironsides - Luckiest Ship

Scorned at first, she became one of the most famous ships in all history

THE SAVVY, veteran shipwrights and mariners of Europe smiled in derision at the naivete of young America in building such a ship. She rode too high out of the water, was built of the wrong kind of timbers and, they predicted, would sail so clumsily that her first sea battle would be her last.

The object of their scorn was the United States Frigate Constitution, destined to become one of the greatest ships in the history of the world.

From that bright morning of July 2. 1798, when she unfurled her sails and moved gracefully out of Boston Harbor past Castle Island and on to sea, she has been known as a lucky ship. During her long and illustrious career she has repeatedly justified this "lucky" tag. Four times during her career she faced desperate odds from attacking ships and each time escaped relatively undamaged. In her battles with other ships, she sank or captured every opponent. In an era when it was quite common for ships to exchange hands through capture by boarding parties, every enemy who swung on a halyard onto her decks was either knocked overboard, captured or killed. Such was her reputation that when other ships scoured the countryside for recruits, the Constitution often had more volunteers for her crew than could be signed on.

Word of her prowess spread fast, and the Europeans who had snickered at her lines hastily copied them. For the next 20 years, new frigates the world over showed the influence of the Constitution's design, and the man who was responsible for her, Mr. Joshua Hum-phreys of Philadelphia, became famous as a ship designer. Navies of the early 19th century consisted mainly of three types of ships; line-of-battle-ships, frigates and sloops. Frigates were the cruisers of their day-slightly smaller, less heavily gunned and more maneuverable than the line-of-battle-ships. Sloops performed a function similar to that of destroyers in present day navies.

The frigate Constitution was 204 feet long with a beam of 431/2 feet. Her tonnage was about 1576 tons and her displacement 2200 tons, including originally about 140 tons of ballast. She could carry vast quantities of powder and shot, and her wooden tanks and casks held 48,600 gallons of fresh water. Water wasn't the only liquid aboard. She also carried 100 barrels of whiskey for issue as grog rations. Her storerooms had space for six months' supply of dry provisions for her crew which averaged 475 men.

As she slipped through the water under full canvas at 121/2 knots, the Constitution was a thing of beauty. From her three towering masts a total of 30 sails could bend before the wind, giving her amazing agility and maneuverability. Like all frigates of that time, the Constitution carried her main armament on two decks; the main or gun deck having a complete battery and the upper or spar deck having guns only on the forward and after parts. Her armament changed from time to time, but during the battle with HMS Guerriere she had 30 long guns-24-pounders -on the gun deck, 16 32-pound carronades on the quarter-deck, six 32-pound carronades on the forecastle plus two 12-pounders as bow chasers. When the Constitution fired a full broadside, 736 pounds of metal went whistling toward the enemy.

The Constitution s guns were mounted along both sides of the ship in crude wooden carriages. They were elevated and depressed by means of handspikes placed under the breech, and a wedge was used to hold the gun at the desired elevation. These same handspikes were used in training the gun horizontally forward and aft, aided by block and tackle. A breech rope was secured to eye-bolts in the hull and passed through a jaw in the rear end of the gun to limit recoil, and several tackles were used for hauling out or holding the gun in any position on deck.

The pitching and rolling of a ship in a heavy sea immensely complicated the problem of loading and aiming: deciding the proper moment for firing demanded great judgment. Because her decks were higher than normal, the Constitution often had an advantage in rough waters: her guns would still clear the waves during heavy rolls that dipped her opponent's lower-deck guns under water. When approaching within range of an enemy ship. Constitution gunners always aimed their shots for the waterline, directly beneath the masts. If the shot was short, it might skip and still score a hit; if long, there was a good chance of toppling the masts.

Although explosive shells with percussion fuzes were not developed until years after the Constitution's period of greatest usefulness, crews often suffered heavy casualties from flying splinters. A heavy shot striking a timber or wooden deck would smash it, throwing dangerous slivers of wood in all directions. Wooden gun carriages were especially dangerous when struck by enemy shell.

Life aboard the Constitution was no picnic for the 59-man Marine detachment who formed a part of her 475-man crew. Like the sailors on board, they slept in hammocks in unbelievably crowded and poorly ventilated quarters. The first sounds of the day were the Marine sentries firing their night guns* and the roll of drums. On the gun deck by the main hatch the boatswain sounded his pipe and the boatswain's mates echoed this call and bellowed. "All hands, ahoy!" This was followed by another shrill call on the pipe and the order, "All hands up hammocks, ahoy!" Twelve minutes were allowed for the men to turn out of their hammocks, lash and carry them on deck and stow them away in nettings.

All hands then turned to, holy-ston-ing, scrubbing and squilgeeing the decks. When this was finished the ship was thoroughly inspected for cleanliness and order. There followed a few minutes of leisure and at six bells (0700) the men were piped to breakfast. Cooks appeared on deck and spread their black, painted "table clothers" and layed out utensils for breakfast. It consisted of tea, ship's bisquit, cold meat and-when in port-possibly potatoes and dried fish or fruit. The decks were swept down after the meal.

One hour after the call to breakfast the drums rolled again, the flag was hoisted and the Marine guards in undress uniform were relieved by others in dress uniform. At the same time, crewmen turned to on their daily work, and a band of 20 musicians came on deck and began playing. At this time the officers made their appearance on deck for a morning stroll, while their rooms were being holy-stoned and cleaned. At 0900 the young boys in the crew attended school. The Constitution carried on her roster a schoolmaster with additional duties as chaplain.

Ship's work continued until 1200 (eight bells) when the word was passed to knock off. At this time a keg of whiskey was brought on deck and poured into a wooden tub, to which was added on equal amount of water. This whiskey-water blend was called grog. At the same time the cooks were laying out their equipment for dinner, but first came one of the high spots of the day. Crewmen stowed away their tobacco quid, spit, wiped their mouths clean to give every drop its full effect: then they downed their half-pint ration of grog, smacked their lips, and passed on to their messes for dinner.

At 1300 the boatswain's pipe called the crew back to work, which continued until 1530, when all hands knocked off their regular work for a half hour of cleaning up. Then the second grog ration of one pint per man was served. Each time grog was rationed out it had to be downed on the spot, while others waited impatiently in line. This grog ration actually amounted to a full pint of whiskey per man per day! Grog was followed at 1600 (eight bells) by the evening meal.

After dinner the men were free for their own leisure, spending the next hour or so swapping sea stories, playing checkers or other games, or simply sitting on a bitt and enjoying the sight of the late afternoon sun on the sea. Just before sunset the men were called to quarters. At sunset the drums rolled and at the third roll the colors were hauled down, and the night pendant substituted for the long one. Marines in undress uniform relieved those who had been on duty in their dress uniforms. The band struck up "Hail Columbia" and other numbers for a half-hour concert. At the end of the concert the boatswain's whistle sounded and the hoarse cry of "All hands stand by your hammocks, ahoy!" rang out. The tackle of the stern and quarter boats was adjusted for additional room, and petty officers began tossing out hammocks from the storage nets. Each man swung his hammock at his number, and most of them turned in immediately. A few collected in groups about the decks to spin "long yarns" about witches, hobgoblins and shipwrecks. At 2000 in Winter, 2100 in Summer the drums rolled again, the bells were struck and the bugles sounded. Marine sentries fired off their day muskets and these were succeeded by loaded ones, for the night. From the master at arms the word rang out. "Put out all fires, lights, pipes and segars and everything that can make a light; except the sentry's light and the match at the galley . . . d'you hear there, cooks?" The cooks acknowledged. By 2200 the tread of the officers of the watch was the only sound heard, except every half hour when the bells sounded the time, and the Marine sentry would cry out "All's well . . . all's well."

For performing their duties the seaman or Marine private aboard the Constitution was paid a salary of between $8.00 and $17.00 monthly. Sergeants and petty officers were paid $19.00 per month, a lieutenant of Marines was paid $47.03 per month, and the commanding officer was paid a monthly salary of $168.13.

The Constitution's first business at sea was against French vessels. Anger against the French had been rising due to constant interference by French ships with American trading vessels at sea. For two years the Constitution cruised off the east coast, but saw little action. Then, in 1800, she was ordered to the West Indies, where in a daring raid, a detachment of sailors and Marines, led by Lieutenant Isaac Hull, captured the French packet Sandwich while that vessel was anchored in the harbor of Port Platte, San Domingo. However, the capture was made in a neutral port, and the act was disavowed by the U.S. Government. The ship was restored to France and an indemnity was paid. In 1801, the Constitution returned to Boston and was laid up for two years.

In 1803, the start of the Tripolitan War put the Constitution back on the high seas.

On July 26, 1804, she was just six years old and ready for battle off the shores of Tripoli. The capture of the US frigate Philadelphia, by the Tripolitans when she had run on a shoal, had held up naval operations against the vessels and forts in the harbor. The daring and successful burning of the Philadelphia after the Tripolitans had manned her and loaded her guns for action, cleared the way for a sea attack by the Constitution, leading a force of three brigs, three schooners, two bomb vessels and six gunboats.

The objective, however, was well-walled, well-fortified with heavy cannon, and well-manned by 25,000 Arabs and Turks. In the harbor were 18 gunboats, two galleys, two schooners with eight guns and a brig with 10, all moored for action and protected by a long range of rocks and shoals which made it impossible for a frigate to come within range and fire on them.

Weather, a determining factor, remained unfavorable for several days; on the 28th, a howling gale drove the Constitution along the rocky shore and continued until the 31st when it tore off the ship's foresail and close-reefed maintopsail.

By the 3d of August, the gales had abated and Commodore Preble, having made his plans for attack, communicated his orders to the commanders of the ships. At 2:30 in the afternoon the signal came. Heavy fire was thrown by the enemy's shipping and shore batteries, but the Constitution made her passes, often coming dangerously near to the jagged rocks. As long as the ship's broadside pounded the batteries they were silent, but between her devastating runs they were reactivated, and she remained under perilous fire.

At 4:30, the Commodore, realizing the need of another frigate, gave the order for the force to draw back from the batteries. This was accomplished under the protection of the Constitution's heavy guns. The sea war with Tripoli remained a stalemate until late in the month when an attempt at peaceful terms and the return of H badly wounded Tripolitans aboard the American vessel, was made by Commodore Preble. The bashaw agreed to the terms but as the American fleet approached they did not see the agreed upon white flag ashore. The Commodore, taking his chances, ordered the light ships to weigh anchor and stand in the harbor. The gun and bomb boats were to cast off and stand in shore. The Constitution weighed anchor and stood in for the town. As she approached the harbor the shore batteries blasted a constant fire upon her, but by late afternoon, she had 13 of the Tripolitan gunboats and galleys within range. She sank one gunboat and disabled two others which ran on shore to prevent sinking. Undaunted, the Constitution went within musket shot of the batteries. She fired 300 rounds of shot-and grape and canister-into the town, the bashaw's castle and the batteries. She silenced the castle and two of the batteries for an interval while they made repairs. In the fray, only the sails and rigging of the Constitution were damaged. Only a light peppering of grape shot scarred her hull. Sufficient damage inflicted, she withdrew to fight another day.

The following week, to draw the Tripolitans' attention from the gunboats, the Constitution came within range of grape and thrashed the castle, towns, and batteries with a broadsides. And at the time, she was in a position where she could look down the muzzles of 70 enemy guns.

Again her luck held, but she suffered more damage than usual. Her maintopsail was totally disabled, a shell had ripped through her foretopsail and all of her sails had taken a slashing. Luckily, as usual, her hull remained undamaged.

A series of these blastings soon discouraged the bashaw who began to see the light and agreed to come to terms. The following year, at an unprecedented ceremony, a treaty was signed aboard the Constitution.

With the Barbary Pirate Operation satisfactorily settled, she cruised her Med Station, waiting for relief. Delay after delay posed a problem for her skipper; the term of enlistment, then, was for three years and many of her crew were being held long overtime.

Eventually, the frigate Chesapeake was scheduled to relieve the Constitution, but she was attacked by the British Leopard after she refused its captain permission to muster her American crew on deck for a line-up to identify deserters from the British navy. The Chesapeake, unable to get under way, and equally unfit to fight. took a long and heavy bombardment, lost four so-called "deserters" and returned to port for repairs.

When news of the Chesapeake affair reached the decks of the Constitution, disappointment grew into rebellion and rebellion approached mutiny. By the Summer of 1807, she had been away from home for four years. With hope gone for relief, and discontent running high, the crew requested an audience to voice their complaints.

A seasoned older quarter-gunner, representing a body of the petty officers, came to the mast and inquired of Lieutenant Ludlow what the prospects were for an early release. The lieutenant, popular with the men, listened sympathetically. He could promise the men nothing, but appealed to their sense of duty to their country in a vain effort to placate them. Immediately after the mast, he went directly to Captain Campbell's cabin.

"The men are in an ugly frame of mind," he told the skipper. "The Chesapeake, cutting off, as it does, the hopes they have been clinging to for an early recall has added fuel to the seditious sentiments smouldering in their breasts."

Capt Campbell, evidently hoping a diversion would calm the Constitutions troubled waters, determined to take the ship out to sea the next morning.

Although, on that memorable day, the Constitution was in her usual condition of ship-shape perfection, when the order came to unmoor the ship not a man in the crew moved. Capt Campbell, standing well aft, seized the grave situation without delay. Quietly, he ordered Lt Ludlow to "Inform Lieutenant Armory that it is my order for him to parade the full Marine guard on the quarterdeck and have them provided with ball and cartridge. Place them in a position to sweep the spar deck to port. Detail midshipmen for both 12-pounders and see that a round of grape and canister is placed at hand for each."

The armed Marines took their post, Lt Armory at their head. The guard was placed on the starboard side of the quarterdeck facing to port. Two senior midshipmen armed the 12-pounders. The order was given, "Pipe all hands aft to muster."

Four hundred seamen tramped on deck, and stood, glaring defiance. Capt Campbell gave the word; the midshipmen rammed home their charges, removed the leaden aprons and lit their matches. The Marine lieutenant barked crisply, "Load with ball cartridge!" Four hundred seamen stood silently looking down the muzzles of two loaded 12-pounders, burning matches in the gunners' hands. The morning sun caught the glistening bayonets fixed to the loaded muskets of the Marines. Four hundred men knew that the Marines could be relied upon to fire on command.

The boatswains and their mates were called forward. Then the captain turned to the crew. "And, now, my lads," he said, ". . . until you are regularly relieved from service, obedi-ence-prompt and implicit-will be enforced on the deck of this frigate. Let the sacrifice be what it may, the outcome now rests with you."

Lt Ludlow raised his trumpet and repeated the order which had previously been disobeyed. "All hands up anchor. To your stations, men!"

In a moment, the boatswains' silver pipes shrieked in the air. and the hand of every man was raised in salute to the quarterdeck. The crew, without hesitation leaped to their stations, the near-mutiny forgotten.

Tested in the wars against the French privateers and Barbary pirates, the Constitution was now to achieve her greatest renown in the War of 1812, when she stood invincible against the English navy for American independence on the seas.

Three days after war was declared, the Constitution, commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, left Washington for New York to join Captain Rodger's squadron. On July 17, 1812, off the New Jersey coast, five sails to the northward were sighted and Capt Hull, supposing them to be the American squadron, headed for them. Early next morning. Hull discovered he had given chase to an English squadron: to make matters worse, there was little or no breeze.

The British squadron gave chase, and gained on the Constitution at first. Fire was exchanged between the leading British ships and the lone American frigate. The situation was desperate until Capt Hull made use of a kedge anchor. The kedge, fastened to a long line of hawsers, was dropped ahead of the ship and, by hauling on the ropes, the men gradually drew the ship ahead of the anchor, which was taken up, carried one-half mile or more ahead and dropped again.

Whenever the wind failed, they "kedged" until gradually they got beyond range of the British guns. The English ships were quick to imitate, but not before the Constitution had a commanding lead. With marvelous maneuvering, Capt Hull, after two days during which all hands remained on deck constantly, outdistanced the enemy.

Undoubtedly one of the most historically cherished victories in the annals of American naval warfare was the defeat of the Guerriere. The Constitution, sailing a very foggy seat on the night of August 18, 1812, sighted a brig which turned out to be the John of St. John's. Upon boarding her, the officers learned that she had been chased since morning by the Guerriere but had somehow escaped in the shrouds of mist.

With knowledge of the direction in which the Guerriere was heading, Capt Hull was eager to give chase. He crowded his sails and steered a northeast course until morning, then veered off to the southeast. At 1000 the cry "sail ho" came from the lookout. The Guerriere had been sighted.

The British man of war lost no time in hauling wind, and laid to for the Constitution. On board the Guerriere were 49 guns; the Constitution mounted 56, which included thirty long 24-pounders, twenty-four 32-pound carronades and two 12-pounders. The British crew including Marines, totaled 272 against the Constitution's 456, including a Marine detachment of 58.

An eyewitness account recalls that the Guerriere began firing as the two ships came within range. The Constitution remained on course, tacking and half-tacking nimbly to avoid being raked. On one tack she came so close that an 18-pound shot came hurtling beneath the larboard knighthead. Splinters showered the gunners but no one was hurt. The shot was immediately picked up, dropped into the mouth of "Long Tom," a huge loose gun on deck, and fired back at the Guerriere-with the ship's compliments.

Capt Hull, using a psychology 75 years ahead of his time, admonished his men to use their ingenuity and initiative. "Do your duty," he told them. "Your officers cannot have entire command over you now. Each man must do all in his power for his country. . . "

When the guns were silent, Hull, determined to close with the British, asked, "Why don't you fire?"

"We can't get our guns to bear as she now lies," answered the gunners.

"You shall have her as you please," he told them. "Sailing master!" he bellowed, "lay her alongside!"

The Constitution came into the wind smartly. As she fell off slightly, the Guerriere ranged her by her full length. For moments there was silence, then a shot from the enemy struck the spar deck.

"Now. close with them!" shouted Hull. "Alongside with her, sailing master!"

A broadside from the Constitution blasted the Guerriere's mizzen mast and tore her main yard from the slings. Timber and rigging hung in a great tangle over her side, crashing against her hull with the beating of the waves.

The British ship returned fire, but it fell high in the Constitution's rigging, doing little damage other than tearing away the fore-royal truck and leaving the colors hanging down and wrapped around the shivvered mast. One of the men, an Irishman, Dan Hogan, clambered up the rigging under full enemy fire and nailed the flag to the mast where it flew proudly throughout the battle. Hogan made it safely to the deck amid cheers from the men and went back to his gun.

Shortly thereafter, one of the enemy's largest shot struck the hull of the Constitution, but the plank was so formidable that the ball bounded off and sank into the sea. The shout was heard, "Huzza! Her sides are made of iron! See where the shot fell out!"

At that moment, her lifelong nickname. Old Ironsides, was born.

With her guns apparently ineffective, the Guerriere, in shambles, closed to attempt boarding, only to find that the Americans were prepared to board her. In a brief boarding attempt Lieutenant William Bush, commanding Old Ironsides' Marine Detachment, was mortally wounded as he leapt to the rail to lead the Marines. The Guerriere, outmanned by the Constitution, fell away in despair.

Now the real battering began. The Constitution's stern guns poured it on. raking the enemy fore and aft. In moments, the foremast came crashing down, then the mainmast. The Constitution remained almost untouched.

The British had insultingly, hoisted a puncheon of molasses on their main stay. "Switchel for the Yankees," they had cried. "They will need it when they are our prisoners."

But the Marines aboard Old Ironsides had other ideas. They sniped away at the puncheon until it drained streams of molasses over the deck of the Guerriere. The planks were so slippery and sticky that the enemy had difficulty staying on their feet.

Aboard the Constitution, repairs were under consideration, but the Guerriere still had numerous men and plenty of ammunition to continue the fight. Unexpectedly, however, the British ship suddenly fell to leeward and fired a signal for assistance.

A boat was sent and brought back Captain Dacres, skipper of the Guerriere, who surrendered himself as a prisoner of war. OW Ironsides stayed with the all-but-demolished ship through the night, taking off its prisoners, some horribly wounded, and trying to keep the Guerriere afloat with her pumps. With six feet of water in her hold she was soon reported to be in sinking condition. All men were removed and it was decided to blow her up. After the removal of everything of value and use, a "slow match" was put to her magazine. Later, from a distance of three miles all eyes aboard OW Ironsides watched the Guerriere part in the middle with a thundering crash, stagger for a few moments, then sink into the roiling sea.

At the end of the War of 1812, the battle-scarred ship was laid up about six years for extensive repairs. Then she went on two cruises to the Mediterranean. In 1830, she was reported unseaworthy and condemned to be broken up, but a poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes, called "Old Ironsides," aroused such popular feeling that money was appropriated for rebuilding her in 1833.

The day the Constitution was launched she bore a figurehead of Hercules. In one of the battles before Tripoli an enemy shot downed the formidable Greek hero and, at the suggestion of Capt Hull, a carved wooden Neptune replaced it. Shortly before the war of 1812, old Neptune returned to the deep and a billet head in the form of a scroll, led the Constitution to her glories. In 1833, while the ship lay at Boston in dry dock for overhauling. Andy Jackson visited the Yard and received tremendous acclaim. Captain Elliot, who had recently become Commandant of the Yard, advocated the substitution of a full-length carved figurehead of Andy Jackson as a replacement for the scroll. The idea was approved by the Navy commissioners, and an artistwood carver. L. S. Beecher, was hired to chisel out Jackson for the ship.

Outraged Republican pamphlets immediately cried down the project. Beecher was the recipient of many poison-pen threats. When these failed, he was offered three $1500-dollar bribes to permit the statue to be carried away in the night. Beecher, however, a true artist and loyal to his commission, refused the bribes and continued to climb to his attic every morning and chip away at the block of wood which would immortalize his artistry on the bow of the immortal ship.

Capt Elliot, sitting on his personally made powder keg, decided to move operations to the safer confines of the Yard where sentries and guards could insure the completion of Beecher's chiseling. Political antagonism seemed to disappear, and a wooden Andy Jack-son soon adorned Old Ironsides. In apparent safety, she was tied up between two ships of the line, the Columbus and the Independence, both guarded by sentinels.

The events which followed are probably recorded in flowing words somewhere in the history of the Republican party, for into the melee, stepped a Captain Samuel Worthington Dewey. He had recently arrived from the West Indies with a cargo of sugar. His company had promptly sold both sugar and ship, leaving him with little but time on his hands. Dewey, described even in those days as somewhat of a character, in the doldrums of boredom was heard to remark that, just for kicks, he might easily be persuaded to row out to Old Ironsides and saw off Andy Jackson's head. A junior partner of the firm which had owned his recent ship called Dewey's bluff. "Do it," he said, "and I'll give you a check for a hundred dollars."

"It's a deal," said Dewey.

In the days which followed, Dewey made no attempt to behead old Andy Jackson, and the pact appeared to be forgotten, but the young Republican sea captain had not forgotten his boast -and the bounty offered. He was simply awaiting ideal conditions. They came, shortly, in the form of a boisterous thunderstorm which shook the coast.

At the height of the storm the youthful Cape Cod seaman untied his rowboat at Billy Gray's Wharf in Boston, swathed his oars with an old comforter and rowed out to the Independence. He worked his way around her side, using her for cover, climbed the Constitution by the man ropes and sawed off Andy Jackson's head, the rasping of his saw mingled with the lashing torrents of rain and crashing thunder while the numerous sentinels huddled cozily in their boxes. Dewey returned to his boat only to find it filled with water, but the undaunted captain bailed her out sufficiently to carry him and his precious, severed head back to shore.

He went directly to his mother's house on School Street and there hid the head in a gunny sack in the woodshed. The rage of the Democrats which this assassination had entailed prompted him to move his prize to the home of a Henry Lincoln on Gooch Street.

The visit of Nicholas Biddle, head of the United States Bank to Boston was deemed a fitting occasion to disclose the Republican coup. After a dinner which included 44 prominent guests, the waiters were locked out of the dining room and the head of Andy Jackson was brought in and placed on the table. The wealthy Biddle who had dined all over the world had never seen so delectable a piece de resistance.

Eventually, Dewey returned the monstrosity to the Secretary of the Navy whose son, after the Secretary's death, was seen carrying the head on his lap in a railway car when he transported his father's "valuables" back to New York.

From 1835 to 1855, the Constitution made numerous voyages, the most important being her cruise around the world in 1844-45, under Captain John Percival, when she covered 52,279 miles in 495 days at sea.

In 1860, Old Ironsides served her country as a training ship for midshipmen at Annapolis. A year later she became the object of Southern envy when the South decided that she should carry the first Rebel flag afloat. Captain Blake. Superintendent of the Naval Academy, fearful of her dangerous position, proposed, in event of assault, to blow up the munitions in the yard and board the midshipmen, after which he intended to defend her in the harbor, or take her to New York or Philadelphia. His reply from the Secretary of the Navy: "Defend the Constitution at all hazards!"

The danger, he expected, would come by water from the direction of Baltimore. For assurance of sufficient warning, he sent out the tiny schooner, Rainbow, as a scout. The Rainbow returned with the news that a huge steamer had been sighted. Attack seemed inevitable; the drums beat assembly and every gun was trained on the approaching vessel. Lieutenant Edmund Matthews was sent in a boat to ascertain the intentions of the ship. To everyone's relief it turned out to be the captured ferryboat Maryland, carrying the Eighth Massachusetts Regiment which was to be landed at Annapolis. From the Maryland, Blake drew sailors for the Constitution and she was towed out of her berth-only to sink in the mud.

Labor and ships dragged her off the bank and she was on her way, but again, off Greenbury Point Light, she hung to the bottom. Her position was critical; the tide fell rapidly and she settled on the shoal. Again she was hauled out into deep water where she anchored-her guns ready to cover the landing of troops and stores at Annapolis.

On April 24, 1861, Blake, finding it impossible to continue academic routine for the midshipmen, directed the boys from the North and the boys from the South to meet for the last time and smoke a pipe of peace before going their separate ways. A sad farewell followed; the barracks were given over to the troops and a drum beat the signal for formation. Those midshipmen whose states had denied their allegiance were ordered to leave the ranks. Man-to-man farewells were pitiful. The Southerners were left to find their ways back home as best they could; the Northerners boarded a tug which took them to their ship. The Constitution, her colors whipping to the wind, headed down the Chesapeake for Lincoln's North.

With the progress of shipbuilding during the Civil War, when the old type of sailing frigate gave way to the steam-propelled Monitor, the crude beginning of the modern battleship, the oak-ribbed, white-winged Constitution rapidly became a relic of the past. For several years, she was used by the Naval Academy as a training and practice ship. In 1871, she was rebuilt at Philadelphia, and in 1878 went on her last trip aboard, carrying goods sent by citizens of the United States to the Universal Exposition at Paris. Her long active career at sea closed in 1881.

From Portsmouth, N.H., where she was used as a receiving ship, the Constitution was brought to Boston, her birthplace, for the celebration of her centennial in 1897. Again threatened with destruction in 1905, because her timbers were gradually rotting away, public sentiment came to her rescue and she was partially restored. But the ravages of time continued and in 1925 plans were made for a complete renovation of the proud old warrior.

At the Boston Navy Yard, OW Ironsides was completely rebuilt from truck to keel. Funds for the restoration were generously subscribed by the people of America, a large part of which was raised by school children, and the balance necessary was appropriated by Congress.

After a tour of the important seaports of the United States that started at Boston, July 2, 1931, covering more than 22,000 miles, Old Ironsides returned to the Boston Navy Yard on May 7, 1934.

Since January, 1940, the USS Constitution has been berthed at the Boston Naval Shipyard. Except for a fouryear period during World War II when the shipyard was closed to the public, she has been opened daily for visitors.

Approximately 300,000 visitors board the magnificent old ship each year. She is kept under close observation to detect the first signs of deterioration in her hull timbers, rigging and accessories. Repairs and replacements are made when necessary in order to keep her in good condition.

Although only about 15 per cent of the original ship remains, the spirit of this great ship has not changed, and the visitor, treading her decks, has the feeling he has stepped backward into the bright pages of American history. After 161 years of service, Old Ironsides is still a commissioned vessel of the United States Navy with a full-time crew aboard. She is likely to remain so forever.