Cape Breton Places & Foods

Not far from where I live in Halifax, is located Gorsebrook Golf Course, and to the south of what is now the Club house, a garden is surrounded by a stone wall. At the south east corner, one of the stones has subscribed on it-”This wall was built in 1915″-This house and grounds are part of the old Collins estate, and the date on the stone and the history of the place has caused my thoughts to wander back for something to interest you of those stirring times, and so I remind you of the most remarkable privateer story that Nova Scotia has ever given us.

This particular story has nothing to do with the Collins family, but as they were interested in shipping in those days, no doubt the story I am to tell you, was well known to those who frequented this old garden at Gorsebrook.

In the olden days, Navy Departments used to encourage private citizens to outfit ships in time of war. These ships were not subject to naval discipline, they were not part of the navy, nor did they ever, when it could be avoided, take part in any naval engagement. They were designed solely to prey upon merchant ships, to destroy the commerce of that nation with whom their country was at war. As a reward for their actions, they were allowed to keep and sell as prizes, the ships and cargoes which they captured, and for authority, so that they would not be regarded simply as pirates, they carried documents known as letters of marque, granted them by their government.

These ships were very fast, and often carried quite heavy armament. Their smallness and their speed enabled them to escape from hostile warships, and their arms made them much more than a match for any luckless merchantman whom they might meet. If it so happened, however, that a hostile warship ever did get a good chance at a privateer, there was small mercy shown, for regular men of the navy looked upon privateers as nothing more or less as pirates. Indeed, two of the most famous pirates ever known, Captain John Kidd, and Captain Henry Morgan, began their careers as privateers.

During the war of 1812, The United States of America, being a new country, had almost no navy whatever. Therefore the government, more than a little dismayed at the one hundred and six ships of the line that the English had gathered at Halifax, put forth an especial plea for privateers, calling attention to the fact that here was a chance both to serve the new republic and to grow rich off prize money. Within a very short time, there were twenty-four heavily armed, very fast privateers sailing out of New York and making themselves no end of a nuisance to British shipping. Among these was a vessel known as the Teazer, which was particularly active. In a few short weeks, she had captured two ships, six brigs and six schooners. It is no wonder then, that as much effort was directed toward capturing the Emden during the early days of the last war, or the Bismarck in this war.

But to get back to my story last, in December, 1812, she was run down. The San Domingo, a huge warship, cornered the little privateer, captured her and burned her.

Her officers were allowed to go home on parole: that is, they were freed upon their promising that they would not again during the war bear arms against Great Britain. Officers were regard as men of honor, men who would keep their word. One of these officers was Lieutenant Frederick Johnson, of whom we shall hear more later.

It was not long before the Teazer was replaced. Early in May, 1831, the Young Teazer, named after the vessel that and been lost, took to the high seas with the intention of giving the British quite as much trouble as had the old Teazer, and with no intention whatever of being captured and burned.

But best-laid plans and the very best of intentions often go astray. The Young Teaser’s first mistake was made when, early in June, she boarded a vessel off La Have, and allowed the vessel and crew to proceed. Of course, the vessel was in ballast, and was hardly worth taking, but her crew arrived at Halifax with full details about the new privateer, her tonnage, the number of guns she carried, and the size of her crew. A very few days later, an incident happened which shows the daring of these privateers. The Young Teazer captured two vessels right off Sambro Light, at the very entrance to Halifax Harbour, and escaped a possible capture by running into the harbor and raising British colors. This was certainly bravado, but it was discovered after the Young Teazer had gone, and a number of British warships sailed wrathfully out into the ocean in search of the Young Teazer.

A Liverpool privateer, called the Sir John Sherbrooke, sighted her, and gave chase: but the Young Teazer was too fast, and with the coming of a thick fog, the Young Teazer got away. Then two warships, the Caster and the Manly, caught sight of her, but the light Teazer was far too fast for the heavy lumbering warships.

A few days later, the frigate Orpheus met with Young Teazer, and being nearly as fast as the privateer, gave her a hot chase to Lunenburg Harbour. There was a light fitful breeze blowing, and the master of the Young Teazer, realizing that he was no match whatever for a heavily armed frigate, crowded on every inch of canvas, and manned the huge oars, or sweeps, with what the Young Teazer was equipped. Even with this help, however, the Young Teazer was unable to get away from this British frigate, who crowded close at her heels.

The Young Teazer darted amongst the maze of islands that dot Lunenburg Harbour, hoping that she would get into shallow water, where her light draught would enable her to sail where the deeper frigate would ground. But the Orpheus was not to be shaken so easily. Into the harbor she raced; close enough to give the master and crew of the Young Teazer a great deal of worry.

Then luck favored the Young Teazer. She doubled over past Sculpin Rock into Spindler’s Cove, and then she squared away and ran between Cross Island and East Point into Mahone Bay, toward Tancook. In the meantime, the Orpheus lost the breeze, and could follow no farther.

But, just as the officers and crew of the Young Teazer were beginning to breathe more easily, and to think that perhaps they had escaped once more, a huge three-decked British warship hove into sight. She proved to be La Hogue, a ship that carried seventy-four guns, a giant of the sea that would blow the Young Teazer out of the water with just one blast. Still, however, there was a chance for the Young Teazer. La Hogue was a great sea-castle, and needed a real breeze to move her- and the wind that the Teazer was light and fitful, so much so that her sweeps were manned constantly. She kept on toward Mahone Bay.

Now the luck that had favored the Young Teazer deserted her entirely. La Hogue caught a breeze that was evidently missing the privateer, and to the dismay of the American, swept around her to windward. But this was not the worst. Scarcely had the Young Teazer realized the peril that this placed her in before the towering sails of the Orpheus appeared.

The breeze that had favored La Hogue, had also enabled the frigate to get windward of the Young Teaser.

Then the wind died, and the Young Teazer, trapped in the landlocked waters of Mahone Bay, lay motionless, with the huge British ship a scant three miles away, also becalmed, but waiting there sinisterly for the Young Teazer to make a move.

One chance remained. With the warship becalmed, the Young Teazer might have worked her way to safety with her sweeps, and, indeed, much a move was begun. But La Hogue was not to be cheated out of her prey. Across the waters to the Teazer came the rattle of La Hogue’s anchor chains, and the sound of putting over boats. In the twilight, the Teazer’s crew saw five huge boats, each thronged with men, and each with a heavy gun in the bow, coming swiftly toward them. The sweeps had to be abandoned, for the boats could move much faster than could the Young Teazer, and besides, there was evidently a fight in the offing, and every man would be needed.

To the accompaniment of the distant, yet ever nearer, splash of oars, a council was hastily called on the Young Teazer. There were two courses open; they could surrender, or they could put up the best possible fight against tremendous odds. There were only thirty-six of the Young Teazer’s original crew of sixty-five on board; the rest had been sent on prizes. Each of La Hogue’s boats carried more men than the whole crew of the Young Teazer; there were more British tars on La Hogue and in reserve, there was the Orpheus, sinisterly awaiting the last breath of wind.

Even so, a gallant fight could have been made. The Teazer mounted five guns, which could have wrought great damage to the five shapes approaching through the summer twilight.

But, while the captain hesitated, the council was suddenly ended by Lieutenant Johnson, the paroled officer from the old Teazer, who had broken his oath, and was again bearing arms against Britain.

Somebody screamed that Johnson had run into the cabin with a live brand from the galley fire. The next moment, the Young Teazer was blown into fragments, by a terrible explosion, a great spout of flame shot skyward, and the career of the Young Teazer was over. Johnson, who did not care to swing at La Hogue’s yardarm as a renegade, had fired the Young Teazer’s magazine.

La Hogue’s boats went hastily back to their ship, and waited until morning. Then, when the British saw the hulk of the Young Teazer still afloat, they sent out boats to pick up any who might have survived the dreadful explosion. A few men, horribly wounded, were patched up and taken ashore to Lunenburg. One or two others who had been flung uninjured into the water, made their way ashore, and surrendered to Lunenburg authorities. In all, twenty-eight of the thirty-six on board the Young Teazer perished from Johnson’s rash act.

The wreck of the Young Teazer was towed ashore, and Lunenburg people gave Christian burial to the horribly mutilated remains that they could find. Some idea of the ghastly scene that the Young Teazer presented may be gathered from the fact that at least one man fainted at the sight of the hulk. There still remain some relics of the Young Teazer. One of the lanterns is in possession of a citizen of Lunenburg County, and a piece of the keel made into a cross, is in the Anglican Church at Chester.

But the greatest memory of the Young Teaser is to be found in the legends about Tancook, and many stories have been told about happenings in June, 1813, when the Young Teazer came to her end.

When you take a walk around Gorsebrook, have a look at the old stone on the wall, and you will probably say to yourself, I’ll bet the occupants of this house in those days, heard some exiting stories of the sea.