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THE TWO ADMIRALS.

BASED ON MEMORANDA FURNISHED BY MR. RICHARD B. PORTER OF WASHINGTON, D. C., SON OF ADMIRAL PORTER.

IN

N these stirring days of naval deeds and naval heroes, it may not be generally known that only two officers in the United States Navy ever wore the four silver stars of an admiral. Previous to the Civil War, the highest known rank was that of commodore. At the battle of Lake Erie Perry was not yet a captain; Paul Jones reached the rank of acting commodore; Tattnall, he of the historic" blood is thicker than water," fought side by side with the British in the Peiho as a captain, although he flew the blue flag of a rear-admiral. In 1862 the rank of rear-admiral was first bestowed. Two years later three men had grown too great for even this new honor: David Glascoe Farragut, David D. Porter, and Stephen C. Rowan were elevated to the rank of viceadmiral. At the close of the war, when grateful people could not do enough for its heroes, Congress created the rank of admiral, and bestowed it upon Farragut and Porter. When they died the title died with them, and it has not since been revived.

Singularly enough, the two admirals were foster-brothers, and both learned the art of war under the grim tutelage of old Commodore David Porter, he who swept the English from the Pacific and destroyed so many sturdy whalers that the lights of London were dimmed for many days."

Farragut's father, a brave, generous soldier of the Revolutionary War, lived in a fisherman's cabin on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain. Commodore Porter was stationed in New Orleans as a recruiting officer. One day in 1805, while the Commodore's aged father, Sailing-Master David Porter, of the Continental Navy, was fishing in a cove not far from Farragut's cabin, he suddenly pitched forward from his boat into the water, overcome with the heat. The elder Farragut rescued him, and watched by his bed until he died. The Commodore, hurrying to his father's side, saw a lusty-looking boy, five years old, running about the house. He was then unmarried, and being fond of children, he adopted the boy, and gave him the name David Glascoe. Three years later, however, he took a wife to him,

and in 1813 a son, David D., the future admiral and companion of Farragut, was born to him.

The boy Farragut was placed in school at Washington. He proved apt and dutiful, having a deeply religious vein in his character, and he might have made a distinguished student had not the old Commodore chosen him for other work. At the age of twelve he was appointed midshipman, and assigned to the "Essex" for a cruise in the Pacific. While he was yet learning the ropes, Commodore Porter placed him in command of a British prize. It was a vessel of 500 tons burden, with a valuable cargo and an unruly crew of thirty men; but the boy, then scarcely thirteen years old, brought her into port like an old ship-master. After a year's work in the Pacific, Porter put into Valparaiso, where he was blockaded by a superior force of British ships. In an attempt to escape he was disabled and compelled to retreat into the harbor. Here, on March 28, 1814, the British, disregarding the neutrality laws, attacked the "Essex." For the number of ships engaged, it was one of the bloodiest naval battles ever fought. During an action lasting two hours the enemy was compelled to withdraw twice for repairs, and it was not until the "Essex" was on fire and three-quarters of her crew were killed or wounded that Porter surrendered. Farragut had performed the duties of captain's aide, quarter-gunner, and powder-boy, never once flinching, although it was his first battle. In such grim ways did the old Commodore give his lessons.

Up to the age of nineteen Farragut was small and delicate, but on the "Essex" he was the life of the midshipmen's mess, full of fun and as agile as a cat. He liked nothing better than to climb to the top of the mainmast and sit curl-legged, gazing out to sea.

"Where's Glascoe?" the Commodore would ask, missing him.

"Up on the mainmast top, sir," the quartermaster would say, "looking for fresh air."

Fifty years later, Farragut, then an ad

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AND REAR-ADMIRAL D. G. FARRAGUT ON THE DECK OF THE FLAGSHIP "HARTFORD AFTER THE VICTORY AT MOBILE BAY, ADMIRAL FARRAGUT IS ON THE RIGHT, LEANING ON THE WHEEL. HIS AGE AT THIS TIME WAS 64 YEARS.

The photograph is the property of R. B. Porter; it was copyrighted in 1864 by McPherson & Oliver.

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miral, was able to hold his hands locked together and jump over them backward and forward without an effort. And he was as active in mind as he was in body. He grasped a situation instantly, and he acted with the vigor of a steel spring. At Mobile, when the leading ship, "Brooklyn," stopped for torpedoes, he ordered instantly: "Damn the torpedoes; go ahead."

In 1824, when Commodore Porter sailed away to punish the West Indian pirates, he took his son David with him. David was very much of a boy, and he loved pirate hunting. The Commodore taught him seacraft, and when he had been bruised through the midshipmen's mess he was put in command of a captured pirate ship with a crew of twenty men. He was only eleven years old, but large for his age, and possessed of all the relentless determination of the old Commodore. The crew appeared to David to be amused that he should command them. So he flogged a man after breakfast for disobeying orders; after dinner he flogged another for mutinous talk; and the next morning, after he had fully subdued the crew, he was gravely ordered by the Commodore back to the flagship.

In 1826 Commodore Porter sailed for Vera Cruz in the Mexican brig "Guerrero," to take command of the Mexican navy, Mexico being then at war with Spain. The boy David became the navigator of the swiftsailing schooner "Esmeralda," with orders to prey on the enemy's commerce. The crew was made up of the off-scourings of many lands-bold, half-piratical fellows, ready at a moment's notice for bloodshed. The midshipman heard strange mutterings among the men, and he reported the fact to his captain. The captain coolly brought out two cutlasses and a number of pistols, and directed Porter to stand ready with them at the cabin door. Then he went on deck. Barrett, the carpenter, stood forward with an ax in his hand. He was surrounded by the swarthy-faced Mexicans of the crew. He talked excitedly, and pointed toward the quarter-deck.

"Barrett, come here, you mutinous rascal," roared the captain.

"I'm no more a rascal than you are," retorted Barrett. Then he shouted to the Mexicans: "Now's our time; follow me!" They rushed upon the captain, Barrett in advance with an ax uplifted.

"Ready, sir?" sang out the boy Porter in the gangway. And he passed up the captain's pistols and stood close behind with up

lifted cutlass. The captain fired both charges, and the midshipman cut the carpenter down the middle. The Mexicans wavered, and then ran back like a flock of sheep. They were ordered aft, and lined up with their toes to a crack. David and the captain, each with a loaded pistol in hand, searched the mutineers and placed them in irons. Then these two, with the quartermaster, sailed the "Esmeralda" into port.

Midshipman Porter was soon transferred to the "Guerrero," then cruising south of Cuba. From the tops, one bright May morning, he discovered a large sail on the horizon. Instantly the decks swarmed with men preparing for action. As the new sail loomed larger the ship was seen to be the Spanish fighter "Libertad," sixty-four guns. The "Guerrero" had only twenty-two guns, but the captain hesitated not a moment. Brave in battle the Spanish might be, but he knew they lacked discipline, were poor gunners, and in the heat of battle often lost their heads. The "Guerrero" came up saucily, and fired a terrific broadside. For over an hour the ships ran side by side, belching fire and shot. Masts were riddled, the sails were torn into rags, and the decks ran with blood. The" Guerrero" was fearfully over-matched, and yet she closed in nearer and nearer until the grimy gunners swore at one another across the water. Every shot told, for the guns of the "Guerrero" were manned by Americans, and gradually the Spanish frigate began to slack away and her guns spoke less often. And then, on the eve of victory, a calm fell suddenly. The "Libertad" edged off and took position just out of reach of the "Guerrero's" short guns, and then pounded her deliberately to pieces. The "Guerrero became unmanageable; the hull was a wreck, most of the crew were killed, and she finally struck her colors. The "Libertad" swept alongside, and while the flag of surrender was still flying bored her defenceless antagonist through and through with solid shot. The captain was cut in two as Midshipman Porter stood by him, and scores of seamen were killed. It was not war, it was murder. Presently the victors boarded the Mexican brig, killed many more of the men in cold blood, and robbed all of the officers— and yet these were the men of the Royal Spanish Navy. Young Porter objected to this treatment so violently that he was cast into Morro Castle at Havana, where he was kept four months. After untold sufferings and indignities he was released, and to his dying hour it was his dearest wish to com

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ADMIRAL PORTER ON THE DECK OF THE FLAGSHIP MALVERN AFTER THE VICTORY AT FORT FISHER, JANUARY 15, 1865. ADMIRAL PORTER'S AGE AT THIS TIME WAS 51 YEARS. From a photograph by A. Gardner, loaned by R. B. Porter.

mand the fleet which should wipe Morro Castle and Spanish rule from this quarter of the earth.

As Farragut was noted for his agility, Porter was known for his enormous strength. One day when the "Constellation" was sta

tioned in the Mediterranean Porter heard two sailors speak disrespectfully to the officer of the deck. He stepped up, seized each of them by the middle of the back, held them aloft, and bumped them together into obedience. With the greatest ease he lifted

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