In the fading afternoon sun, the white walls of the Concord Point Lighthouse glisten with an ever-deepening golden hue. The small lighthouse structure, seemingly something out of Lilliput, guards the flank of the Concord Point boardwalk, where adults and children stroll and play watching the sailboats and feeding the ducks.
Few people stop to look at the pockmarked and broken gun tube that sits upon a pedestal between the lighthouse and the water’s edge, silently taking aim on vessels as they pass.
It remains a lonely sentinel keeping watch over the upper reaches of the Chesapeake Bay at Havre de Grace, Maryland. The gun remains as a monument to the brave artillerist who once defended the town.
The scene was much different almost 200 years ago. In 1813, the town of Havre de Grace consisted only of about 50 houses, mainly of wood, several taverns and inns, and some wharves and warehouses which served the shipping on the Chesapeake. It was a growing community for which the future looked strong.
Unfortunately, the times were somewhat disconcerting. Though the town’s citizens had not yet experienced it, King George III’s Great Britain was at war with the young United States. The war was about to arrive on Havre de Grace’s footsteps.
On April 29, 1813, Sir George Cockburn of the Royal Navy sent a detachment to attack Elkton and Frenchtown, north of Havre de Grace. The war had been going on for a year, and the British incursions were getting ever bolder.
As the British were anchored near Spesutie Island, they reported that a flag was run up at one of Havre de Grace’s batteries, and a cannon fired. The range was extremely great – close to five miles – but it was enough to enrage the British.
Havre de Grace had not been ignoring the ongoing war. Two batteries were built for the town’s defense. Though there is some confusion, it would appear that the larger battery was constructed on the high ground near Concord Point, close to the Whittaker and Company Iron Works. This battery included one 18 pdr. and two 9 pdrs.
A second, smaller work was constructed closer to the town itself, apparently at a location where potatoes were loaded or unloaded into ships, resulting in its being called the “Potato Battery.” This work consisted of a small breastwork… with two 6 pdrs. and one 9 pdr.
Both batteries were manned by the local militia, which had grown lax, as the British did not seem interested in their corner of the world.
However, the fire that the British had experienced returning from their raid caused them to feel that they had to make an effort to end the resistance of the people in Havre de Grace.
On the morning of May 2, 15 to 20 British barges were seen to be approaching Concord Point. Drums began to beat the town to action, or, more correctly, to confusion. Some of the militiamen came to the batteries; others were more concerned with getting their families and valuables to safety.
The guns of the town’s batteries opened on the incoming British. The British responded with grapeshot and Congreve rockets. The first battery the British encountered, the larger one near Concord Point, was quickly overrun by the Redcoats.
Houses in the town began to blaze in an ever-increasing inferno. The Potato Battery, however, continued to fire, though at a slowing rate. The battery was now manned by but one man, Havre de Grace’s own John O’Neill.
O’Neill, as his name implied, was an Irishman. He had come to the New World shortly after the American Revolution, at the age of 18 in 1786. He saw military service apparently on land during the Whiskey Rebellion and at sea during the “Quasi-War” with France.
Settling at Havre de Grace, O’Neill became a prosperous merchant. With the outbreak of the war, his military service and his having something substantial to protect made him a natural for an officer’s commission in the local militia. He rapidly took to his position as a second lieutenant.
During the attack, O’Neill, was determined not to give in without a fight. As the other members of the militia fled the Potato Battery, O’Neill began the unrehearsed drill of “diminishing man battery fire.” Soon he was all that was left, but he continued to fire as best he could.
O’Neill related that he had “loaded the gun without anyone to serve the vent, which you know is very dangerous. And fired her.” The danger is obvious to anyone familiar with artillery.
Finally, alone except for one injured man, O’Neill recorded that the gun “… recoiled and ran over my thigh…” giving him a painful injury. In that one moment, the Potato Battery was put out of action.
Lieutenant O’Neill, however, was not one to give in so easily. Grasping a musket, he continued the fight. He limped down the road to the nearby nail factory where he joined forces with several others, including Christopher Levy, who did not want to abandon the town to the British.
Compelled to abandon the new position, O’Neill was captured as he attempted to make his way across the common in front of the Episcopal Church.
The short action had been devastating to the small town. One witness described the scene as follows:
“I did see from the heights the British drawn up contiguous to the church, supposed to be about 450 in number. I heard the drum distinctly beat and saw, — from the reflection of the sun – the glittering of their arms. From hence, they discharged some rockets, and sent out small parties with prepared combustibles. The first step was to plunder without distinction, the next conflagration without delay.”
Another witness recorded that “a full volley of canister shot appeared to fall in every direction …”. As many as 40 of the town’s 60 buildings were damaged or destroyed, with damage amounting to a total of $50,000, a high amount in that day.
Mr. Webster, one of the defenders, was killed by a Congreve rocket while retreating from one of the batteries. The British apparently suffered but one man injured, in spite of American claims of three British killed and two wounded.
After his capture, O’Neill was taken aboard the Maidstone, a British frigate. The Irish O’Neill found himself in a predicament. As an Irishman – a British subject — he was subject to execution for taking up arms against the king. For three days he was held aboard the Maidstone before being released.
The reasons given for his release are several, and the truth is obscured by time. Some sources claim that the threat by American forces in Baltimore to execute two captured British soldiers in retaliation for a similar action against O’Neill may have had an effect on Cockburn.
Other sources claim that a Mr. Levy, a local hatter and one of the men who fought at the nail factory beside O’Neill, was able to convince the British through his “humour and conduct”.
In the last, and most dramatic version, O’Neill’s daughter, Matilda, had a major role. According to O’Neill family history, Matilda rowed out to the Maidstone, and demanded to speak with Admiral Cockburn. Matilda attempted to persuade Cockburn that her father was an officer and soldier performing his state-appointed duty, and was not merely a thug.
The distinction seemed to be important in that O’Neill should be treated as a prisoner of war, not some private individual hell-bent on shooting the British. Cockburn is said to have argued that he did not believe O’Neill was a soldier, let alone an officer, since O’Neill was not wearing any uniform.
At this Matilda offered to go and get O’Neill’s official commission from their home. On her return with the commission, Cockburn released O’Neill. Apparently impressed with the bravery of the young woman, Cockburn presented her with his snuffbox.
On O’Neill’s return, he was a hero. The City of Philadelphia commissioned a sword for him. Also, in reward for his service to the nation, O’Neill was eventually given the position of lighthouse keeper at the small light on Concord Point to sustain him and his family in his old age. He maintained the light from 1829 until he died on Jan. 26, 1838. His family continued to keep the light for almost another century.
In front of the lighthouse is a badly corroded and pockmarked gun tube, apparently one of the 6 pdrs. from O’Neill’s little “Potato Battery,” sitting atop a small monument to John O’Neill himself.
This is all that remains to tell the tale of artillerist O’Neill’s brave defense of Havre de Grace.
(About the Author: Patrick McSherry is a Pennsylvania architect and editor of the Spanish-American War Centennial)