A Man of Vision
Oliver Williams
Oliver Williams was born in Roxbury,
Massachusetts, a village near Boston, in 1774. Undoubtedly, he grew
up aware of, and hearing stories about, the birth of his young nation.
Oliver Williams later saw opportunity in the vast Northwest Territory.
He opened a dry goods store in Detroit, Michigan Territory, in 1808.
The inventory for his store, like nearly all finished goods, came
from the east. He made two trips each year, overland. The trips
were slow and the resources he expended were never anything more
than a continuing drain against whatever profits early businesses
in the cash starved frontier would permit.
In 1810, Oliver Williams took a chance. The gamble was not particularly
unusual for men of his nature. Men did not conduct business on the
frontier without an entrepreneurial instinct. He decided to build
a ship. The vessel would use the only "highway" available
– Lake Erie; Buffalo to Detroit, non-stop, direct. His inventory
would arrive faster, and in greater quantity, and while the vessel
was a substantial capital outlay, she would sail for years and could
earn money by shipping goods the length of each shipping season.
Other vessels plying the Lakes were finding cargoes and the steady
stream of settlers assured volumes of cargo and demand for the ship
would only grow with each coming season.
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A New Ship is Launched
Oliver Williams built his ship at the River Rouge, on the banks
of the Detroit River. A private shipyard was laid out adjacent to
the Federal yard, where the army transport snow Adams,
the only government vessel on the upper Lakes, was built years before.
Other ships sailed past while this new vessel took shape, the schooners
Salina and Ellen and the sloop Contractor.
The sight of each of them only encouraged Oliver Williams. His idea
had merit; his gamble would pay.
 The
new ship slid down the ways, in early 1811. He christened her Friends
Good Will. While no one knows for certain the origin of the
name, a coincidence seems too obvious to ignore. The name may well
have been in honor of an earlier Friends Good Will, which
transported the first wave of Irish immigrants from Larne to Boston
in 1717. It is likely Oliver Williams knew her story and borrowed
her name. His vessel, he likely hoped, would also bring waves of
settlers to a new land of opportunity the Michigan Territory.
At 47 tonnes burthen, the square topsail sloop carried cargo for
her owner and others, paying her way in settling the new frontier.
Oliver Williams retained an experienced Master, William Lee, formerly
Master of Contractor, to operate and protect his new investment
and avoid the numerous risks endemic to navigating the Great Lakes.
The gamble was paying off. The reported tensions with England and
the Royal Navy on the high seas seemed, at most, a distant storm
largely irrelevant to their present course.
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A Detailed Manifest and Fateful Charter
On June 19, 1812, Friends Good Will departed Detroit,
bound for Mackinac Island. Oliver Williams had agreed, upon his
arrival at the Island, to charter Friends Good Will to
the Federal Government for carrying military stores and supplies
to Fort Dearborn at Chicago. He decided to ship aboard for this
voyage. In Detroit, William Lee loaded 304 separate items into the
hold of Friends Good Will, all intended for Mackinac Island.
Fortunately, the original manifest of that voyage survives, bearing
the signature of her Master, William Lee, the Port of Detroit customs
agent, a description of the vessel and a very detailed description
of the cargo: tobacco, whiskey, wines, and other goods bound for
the upper Lakes. 
At Mackinac, Friends Good Will offloaded her cargo, took
on military stores, supplies and soldiers to protect from the possibility
of hostile natives. The rumors of war were more prevalent and troubling.
Still, the issues between Washington and London seemed a long way
off. Of more immediate concern was navigating the shoals, avoiding
the islands and the mid-summer thunderstorms that could endanger
any down-bound vessel on what was then a very remote Lake Michigan;
all of course before lighthouses or any hope for assistance from
others.
Fort Dearborn (Chicago) was in many ways the far edge of the Northwest
Territorial Frontier. Friends Good Will brought "news,"
now months old but received none. By the time the northbound sloop
was hull up, with the Fort Mackinaw ramparts visible from the cross-trees,
it had been out of contact with interests in Detroit for some weeks.
Still, the lookout clearly made out the Stars-and-Stripes flying
over the Fort. A brief stop, then on to Detroit.
Oliver Williams, William Lee and the crew could not have been more
surprised when on July 17, 1812, upon their return to Mackinac Island
they were informed, at gunpoint, that they were now on English soil.
The American flag had been a ruse to lure American shipping into
the harbor. War had been declared, unbeknownst to Friends Good
Will or the Fort Mackinac garrison. The island had fallen without
a shot and Friends Good Will, in no position to resist,
was confiscated as a prize-of-war. Oliver Williams likely protested,
as his was a private vessel. But her business in Lake Michigan,
from which she was just returning, was military in nature a strong
enough argument for capture given the distance from the Admiralty
prize courts.
Oliver Williams, William Lee, and all passengers and crew were
taken prisoners of war. They were paroled and transported back to
Detroit aboard the schooner, Salina, with Daniel Dobbins,
Owner and Master. Worse yet, from the perspective of Oliver Williams
and William Lee, Friends Good Will was taken into the service,
renamed Little Belt and became a part of the Royal Naval
Squadron on the upper Lakes. She was armed with a pair of six-pounders
and a nine-pounder on a pivot; serious business for a mere sloop.
Suddenly, the gamble had gone terribly wrong. Politics and the
balance of power formulated half-a-world away, had swept in like
a Great Lakes mid-summer cold front. With the loss of his ship,
a substantial investment, together with its cargo and with himself
a prisoner, even an optimist like Oliver Williams had to admit his
grand business plan was in tatters; like so much storm ravaged canvas
hanging from the yard.
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Merchant Sloop Turned Man-O-War
Lieutenant John F. Breman, Provincial Marine, likely spent the
summer of 1813 wholly impatient with the state of affairs on the
Upper Great Lakes. He was, after all, fully prepared to bring the
full weight of his broadsides against the King's enemies all 15
pounds!
 While
hardly impressive by the standards of Trafalgar, or any real naval
engagement, still H.M. Sloop Little Belt was nearly new,
well found and ready to cruise for American prizes. If only the
Royal Naval Squadron Commander Robert Barclay would permit his separation
from the mundane duties of patrol and dispatch, he was confident
that his command, the former Friends Good Will, could sweep
Lakes Michigan and Huron of all remaining American vessels. Breman
likely made his plea to Barclay at the squadron headquarters at
Amherstburg, across the river to the south of Detroit. His eloquence,
he feared, had not been fully appreciated. Barclay, a veteran of
Trafalgar, probably seemed distracted and dismissed his plea with
the simple logic of an experienced career officer in the finest
navy in the world there were simply few if any American vessels,
merchant or government, remaining on the Upper Lakes.
Barclay saw the larger picture. "Mr. Madison's War" had opened
disastrously for the Americans on the Great Lakes. Despite the obvious
advantage of Americans being able to prepare themselves before they
declared war, such foresight was inexplicably lacking in the Northwest
Territory. The fall of Fort Mackinaw in July 1812, a strategic choke
point of transportation and commerce, followed the declaration of
war by less then one month. By August 1812, the British, together
with native allies, attacked and burned Fort Dearborn, Chicago and
marched survivors into the woods of Illinois never to be heard from
again. Indeed, Friends Good Will may very well have been
the last ship to put into Chicago before the bloodshed and she brought
no news of any declared war. Lake Michigan was, once again, in the
firm control of the English Crown. Lake Huron was likewise undisputed.
Worse still, General Hull surrendered Detroit without a shot and
to a dramatically smaller force, also in August 1812. With Forts
Detroit, Mackinaw and Dearborn flying the Union Jack, all within
60 days after war was declared, the United States had little credible
claim to the vast Northwest Territory.
Precisely because of these early victories, Lieutenant Breman could
not fathom Barclay's concern. Barclay knew, however, that the Americans
were attempting to build an entire fleet at Erie. Blockading the
new ships in port would at least deprive the Americans of any opportunity
to train and acquire the skills necessary to fight at sea. The Royal
Navy had for years dominated the French with precisely this tactic.
H.M.S. Shannan similarly benefited in her conflict with
U.S.S. Chesapeake, despite the dying words of Captain Lawrence,
"Don't give up the ship." Consequently, through much of the summer
of 1813, British ships tacked back and forth across the entrance
to Erie Harbor. There would be no independent cruise for Little
Belt.
 Meanwhile,
the United States Navy dispatched Lieutenant Oliver Hazard Perry,
U.S.N, of Newport, Rhode Island, west to its inland seas. Equally
important, the Navy dispatched Noah Brown, an accomplished ship
builder from New York to Erie, with a crew of carpenters and shipwrights.
Combined with efforts already underway at Erie, notably by Daniel
Dobbins, formerly of Salina, an American squadron began
to form.
The logistics were a nightmare. The outcome could well depend upon
supplies and provisions. Time was of the essence. While the American
supply routes were poor, the British faced far worse. England, after
all, was already engaged in world war -- a long-term struggle to
the very death of competing empires. Little was spared by the Royal
Navy for a decisive conflict upon an inland lake. Hence, Barclay
was more than distracted; his concern was well found. He was, quite
simply, ill equipped and poorly supplied.
Still, or perhaps precisely because of these dynamics, no one can
explain why in late July 1813, Barclay simply sailed his squadron
away from Erie. Perhaps his provisions were low. Perhaps he felt
the American squadron would not be ready to sail that season. Perhaps
he feared they would. In any case, Perry beheld an empty horizon
to the north and seized the opportunity. He put out with his squadron
immediately so to gain valuable time training on the water. He commented
to Brown, who was concerned about the hasty workmanship. "We want
no extras; plain work is all that is required; they will be wanted
for only one battle; if we win, that is all that is wanted of them,
if the enemy are victorious, the work is good enough to be captured."
He understood. It would be all or nothing.
The squadrons were relatively equal in guns and men. The Americans
had 54 cannons, the British 63, including Little Belts' 3!
The Americans held an advantage in the ratio of regular naval crew,
but the British had far more time on the lake for training.
Perry proceeded to Western Lake Erie and waited near South Bass
Island. He raised his flag in a new brig, Lawrence, and
flew a banner from atop the mainmast, "Don't give up the ship."
Barclay would get wind of his location.
Lieutenant Breman, deprived of his independent cruise, would nonetheless
by mid-September, take his new commend, Little Belt, into
action.
On September 10, 1813, the British squadron was sighted approaching
from the northwest. The wind was light. Perry weighed anchor and
proceeded to form in a line. His two largest vessels, the Brigs
Lawrence and Niagara, were to engage their British
counterparts and support one another. On the British line, Little
Belt was last but with a nine-pounder on a swivel, was confident
of joining in the fray.
 Lawrence
engaged aggressively, eventually using both sides. The destruction
was horrific. Meanwhile, inexplicably Commander Jesse Elliott, U.S.N.,
of Niagara, failed to close or engage. After more than
two hours of fierce close-range fighting, Lawrence was
rendered unmanageable. Near the end of her service, Perry himself
was said to be fighting one of the great guns. Perry eventually
boarded a ships' boat, and with a small group of survivors transferred
his flag to Niagara, immediately relieving Elliott of command.
Despite the carnage aboard Lawrence, she apparently gave
at least as well as she got. Perry managed to maneuver Niagara
amidst the damaged British vessels and after engaging from both
sides, the Union Jacks came fluttering down.
Little Belt stood off, filled away and attempted escape.
Lieutenant Breman, although probably unaware, was the only uninjured
captain throughout the entire British squadron. In the light wind,
the chase unfolded slowly, but if he could somehow stay out of range
until dark, Little Belt might just slip back to Amherstberg.
But it was not to be. Little Belt was launched flying American
colours and was destined to do so again. Before nightfall she fell
within range of the schooner Scorpion's heavier guns. Lieutenant
Breman hauled down the Union Jack, making Perry's victory complete.
Soon after the great guns fell silent, Commodore Perry penned his
now famous dispatch, "We have met the enemy and they are ours: Two
ships, two brigs, one schooner and a sloop." That sloop was Friends
Good Will.
The Battle of Lake Erie was heralded throughout the nation. The
U.S.S. Constitution, upon hearing the news, fired a broadside
in salute and celebration. The event was immortalized by song:
Our heroic Perry has turn'd fortunes' tide.
And in their own water has humbled their pride
A squadron complete .
Barclay, ships arms and men
Surrender to Yankees.
Britain's flag doused again!
Then huzza for Yankees, their brave and their free
May our country long nourish the liberty tree!
To this day, the battle remains the only time the Royal Navy has
lost an entire squadron. More than heartening an uncertain young
nation, however, the Battle of Lake Erie has a special significance
to Michigan. But for the outcome, Michiganders would have flown
first the Union Jack and years later the red maple leaf of Canada.
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After the Smoke Cleared - Invasion
While most are familiar with Perry's first dispatch to General
Harrison, a more detailed report dashed off that same day to Secretary
of the Navy William Jones is, although less famous, just as profound:
"It has pleased the Almighty to give the arms of the United States
a signal victory over their enemies on this lake."
That signal victory caused English subjects watching the horizon
from the shores of Ontario a great deal of confusion, leading to
apprehension. The great guns had been heard all afternoon from Cleveland
to Detroit. When the locals saw Little Belt leading ships
toward Amherstberg, yet flying the Union Jack, they first assumed
their victorious squadron was returning. To their horror, the Jack
fluttered down, the ships turned south and the realization swept
over the onlookers that husbands, fathers, brothers, and friends
would not be coming home for some time, if at all. More slowly they
came to appreciate the implications of Lake Erie devoid of the Royal
Navy. Their homes were vulnerable. Even the cannon from Fort Malden
had been removed so to arm H.M.S. Detroit. Those guns,
so recently piercing Fort Malden's ramparts, were now in American
hands. Perry wasted no time. Even as he was rowed back to the shattered
Lawrence, he likely considered the very purpose of securing
Lake Erie; an invasion of southern Ontario. As his ships, many jury-rigged,
limped back to South Bass Island from whence they weighed anchor
earlier (was it just that morning?), he considered the season; mid-autumn
and how little time remained to begin an entire campaign.
But first there were honors to extend and obligations to fulfill.
Arthur O'Keefe, of the 41st Foot, representing the stricken Commodore
Barclay, boarded Lawrence and offered Perry his sword,
hilt first. Perry refused and informed the British officers that
as honorable adversaries they may keep their side arms. Thinking
Barclay was mortally wounded, Perry paid him a visit aboard Detroit.
Thomas Breese of Lawrence read the burial service from
the Book of Common Prayer and all too many heroes wrapped in canvas
slid over the side from underneath two different flags; both red,
white and blue. As the prize crew on Little Belt struck
8 bells, marking midnight and the change of the watch, she put into
South Bass Island with Scorpion keeping a close eye. She
now joined the combined squadron and added to the prisoners that
already outnumbered the captors. For the last time on Little
Belt, the Union Jack was hauled down; although the Stars and
Stripes were on this occasion flying above those British colours.
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The Invasion of Southern Ontario
The next morning, Perry shifted his flag to Ariel, a mere
schooner of only 4 guns. The move spoke volumes as to what a difference
a day made. Perry no longer needed a powerful brig. There were no
more opponents afloat on Lake Erie. He needed the speed of a nimble
schooner and with all dispatch he acted to advise General Harrison,
whose purpose he was primarily ordered to assist at every opportunity.
Harrison's army had, in the hopes of the Navy delivering "a signal
victory," prepared numerous bateaux and organized themselves to
be transported across Lake Erie. Harrison, no sailor, envisioned
cramming men, horses, feed, provisions, and cannon on the available
ships and crossing in a single trip. Perry cautioned that "staging"
was a far more prudent approach, leaving room enough on deck to
fight the ships and cover the landings with naval artillery should
the opposition Harrison expected materialize. Harrison deferred
and was later very complimentary of Perry's advice and support.
While Perry's ships chased a few remaining British vessels off of
Lake St. Clair, he prepared to lead a very rare and complex amphibious
assault from the Portage River (what is now Port Clinton, Ohio)
to south of Fort Malden across Lake Erie.
On 22 September 1813, less than two weeks from the date of Perry's
signal victory, Little Belt, together with other ships
in the squadron, began transporting a 3500 man army, with as many
as 90 landing craft, to Middle Sister Island about 15 miles off
shore of Fort Malden. The entire invasion force assembled on that
island of only a few acres. On 27 September, Little Belt
crammed its hold and deck with soldiers and arms and while towing
several bateaux, landed portions of Harrison's army, surprisingly
unopposed. While covering the landing with their deck guns, the
smaller vessels, among them Little Belt, scared off natives
observing the operation. Though not exactly D-Day, the operation
was historic and a tremendous success. Seldom before had independent
branches of the United States military coordinated an assault so
complex and fraught with risk. Harrison was extremely pleased with
Perry's inland navy. The operation in which Little Belt
played an active part served as a shining example for military training
for years to come.
Meanwhile, things were not going well for the British. Their important
native ally leader, Tecumseth, was furious at the thought of a British
withdrawal. He made his feelings known at Amherstberg in such strong
language that the attending British officers were fearful their
native allies were threatening violence upon the King's representatives.
Still Amherstberg, Sandwich (now Windsor), and Detroit were wholly
untenable. The British fell back and Detroit was freed from British
occupation.
The British retreated up the Thames river valley but Harrison caught
them on 5 October. The Americans, with far superior numbers, decisively
won-the-day and significantly, Tecumseth was killed in the battle.
The invasion of southern Ontario was a success. For the balance
of the war, major portions of the Northwest Territory were again
secure.
Little Belt continued her service in the United States
Navy through that sailing season. Additional research is underway
hoping to uncover more details. Perry was informed in a letter sent
from Erie dated 1 November, that Little Belt "was high
and dry." Some sources credit a major storm as driving her ashore
just south of Buffalo. Apparently the damage, if any, was slight
enough to warrant several unsuccessful efforts to re-float the sloop.
A Tragic End
Unfortunately, on 31 December as the new year unfolded, a British
force raided Buffalo and drove defenders scurrying east not to return
for some weeks. The British burned the village and Little Belt,
still aground, was also set ablaze.
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