Joshua Barney, who was born in Baltimore, Maryland, on July 6, 1759.
He was sent to a typical school until he was ten and placed in a retail dry goods store in Alexandria, Virginia. In 1771, he served on various vessels. While onboard a brig bound for Ireland, the ship reached the cove of Cork after a long and rough passage.
From thence, the Captain proceeded to Liverpool, where he sold his cargo and brig. Young Barney returned home by way of Dublin. Soon after his arrival, his father was killed by the accidental discharge of a pistol in the hands of a young son but seven years of age. Joshua subsequently made a voyage to Cadiz and Genoa. In 1775, he sailed to Italy.
In October 1776, he arrived in Chesapeake Bay, where the officers of a British sloop of war King Fisher boarded his ship and plundered all his letters and arms. While there, he received intelligence on the battle of Bunker Hill. He was at length permitted to proceed to Baltimore and was appointed master's mate on the sloop of war Hornet under Capt. Stone. Com. Hopkins presented him with a flag, which he mounted on a staff.
In November, the Hornet and Wasp sailed for the Delaware to join Com. Hopkins. The British fleet was in Hampton Roads to intercept them but could not bag the game. On their arrival, the fleet of the Commodore consisted of two small frigates, two brigs, and four sloops. With this infant navy just bursting into life, he sailed for the Bahama Islands New Providence—took the fort without opposition—secured the military stores—treated the people and private property with due respect, and returned safely to the Delaware River with his booty. Soon after his return, Barney was stationed on board the Wasp under Capt. Alexander to conduct the ship beyond the capes that conveyed Benjamin Franklin to France. On its return, the Wasp was closely pursued by two British ships carrying 72 guns and escaped by running into Wilmington Creek. The next morning, Com. Hazelwood went down from Philadelphia with several row gallies and boldly attacked the Englishmen, enabling the Wasp to come out and participate in the action. This little schooner stung the British brig Tender so severely that she surrendered. On his return to join the games amidst a dense fog, Capt. Alexander came in close contact with the fleet of the enemy. He met with a warm reception and returned the salutation promptly and effectually. After an exchange of the most impressive compliments, he returned to the gallies. A brisk fire was kept up during the day, which convinced the creatures of the crown that the infant navy was not to be trifled with. During the action, young Barney went on board another vessel where he was made a lieutenant and put in command of the sloop of war Sachem. He was then but seventeen years of age.
In the spring of 1777, he joined the squadron for the defense of Delaware composed of the Delaware—32 guns—the Sachem, Andrew Dorin, and several smaller vessels—all under the command of Com. Hazelwood. They were stationed near Fort Mifflin and bravely maintained their position until the next autumn when the little fleet and fort were compelled to yield to a superior force. Lieut. Barney was then ordered on board the frigate Virginia at Baltimore, commanded by Capt. Nicholson. In an attempt to run her to sea at night, the pilot brought her up on the opposite shore, where she and her crew fell easy prey to the enemy.
He was soon exchanged and joined his old friend, Capt. Robinson was at Alexandria on board a vessel with 12 guns, 35 men, and a small supply of ammunition. On the third evening, after leaving port, they fell in with the British privateer Rosebud—fully manned and eager for action. Daylight revealed a rapid opening and expansion of the Rosebud—she hauled off with 47 of her men killed and wounded. Capt. Robinson had none killed and one man wounded. He then sailed to Bordeaux—mounted eighteen guns—shipped 70 men—took in a cargo of brandy, and sailed for home.
On his way, he captured a valuable prize—and placed it in charge of Lieut. Barney arrived with it in Philadelphia in October 1779.
Their first prize was a vessel carrying 12 guns. In a short time, they came in contact with an English ship mounting 32 guns with 90 men accompanied by two brigs. Under the disguise of British colors, Capt. Young ran alongside the ship. In a few brief moments, the star-spangled banner was floating in the breeze upon the three English vessels. Lieutenant Barney was put in charge of one of them. Becoming separated from the others, he was captured by the seventy-four Intrepid commanded by Capt. Malloy was treated with great cruelty, on arriving at New York Lieut. Barney and 70 other prisoners were placed on board the ship of war Yarmouth by Admiral Rodney. They were confined under five decks in a dark, filthy apartment but three feet between floors—twelve feet by twenty in area and ordered to England. They spent 53 days performing the passage. Eleven of the prisoners died on the way—the survivors were scarcely able to walk. They were covered with vermin and, when landed, could not bear the light for some time. They were sent to Mill prison, where they found nearly three hundred of their fellow-countrymen sharing the same tender mercies with themselves. Soon after this new accession of rebels, preparations for escape were discovered. Lieut. Barney was suspected—loaded with heavy irons and thrown into a dungeon for thirty days. With the assistance of a soldier, he made his escape from prison on May 18, 1781—was discovered and remanded. In a second attempt, he succeeded—visited Bristol, London, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and the Hague. He reached Philadelphia in March 1782 amidst the heartfelt congratulations of his family and numerous friends. His sufferings had been aggravated and heart-rending. He had almost tasted death. The brutal treatment of the American prisoners on board the English prison ships is without parallel. It has left a stigma on the Christian escutcheon of the British nation that time or angels' tears can never expunge—a foul blot, lasting as the pages of history. My strong language may be excused when I inform the reader that one out of eight of my patriot uncles was literally suffocated and starved to death on one of those ships in the port of New York. Were I to draw a full picture of the demoniac cruelties heaped upon the American prisoners in the loathsome dungeons of these floating Pandemoniums—a horror too painful to be borne would oppress the aching heart of the reader.
As a manifestation of the high value placed upon the services of young Barney, the State of Pennsylvania presented him with a captaincy and put him in command of the Hyder Ally of 16 guns with 110 men. In a few days, he proceeded down the Delaware as a convoy. On April 8 1782, he was anchored in Cape May road, waiting for a move favorable wind. At 10 a.m., he discovered four vessels making all sail towards him. On nearing, they proved to be a British frigate, ship, brig, and sloop of war. About noon, the frigate made for Cape Henlopen channel—the other vessels steering for Cape May. Capt. Barney weighed anchor and sailed up the bay to elude pursuit at 1 p.m. The ship and brig came into the bay by Cape May channel—the frigate coming round under Cape Henlopen. The following account of the action is from a gentleman who volunteered on board the Hyder Ally.
" At one p.m. prepared for action—all hands to quarters. At three-quarters past one, the brig passed us after giving us two fires. We reserved our fire for the ship, then fast coming up. We received very little damage from the brig which stood after our convoy. She mounted 16 guns and was formerly the Fair American privateer commanded by Capt. Decatur and equal to us in force. At 2 P. M., the ship ranged upon our starboard quarter and fired two guns at us. We were then at a good pistol shot. We attempted to run her on board by laying her across the starboard bow—at the same time, poured in our broadside from great guns and small arms. Our fire was briskly kept up for twenty-six minutes when she struck her colors. Immediately, we sent our first lieutenant on board and stood up the bay—the frigate being chased under all sail and the brig ahead in pursuit of our convoy. We again prepared for action and stood for the brig. On perceiving this, she tacked for the frigate and got aground. We were obliged to pass her as the frigate was gaining upon us. At 4 P. M., the frigate came to anchor in the bay—as we supposed for want of a pilot. We then spoke about the prize for the first time and learned that she was his majesty's ship Gen. Monk—Capt. Rodgers—with 20 nine-pounders—136 men; 30 killed and 53 wounded, including 15 out of 16 officers." The Hyder Ally had four killed and eleven wounded—mounted 12 six and four nine-pounders—a little more than half the weight of metal carried by the Gen. Monk—with a crew of 110 men and five volunteers who went on board as a matter of recreation. Capt. Barney proceeded to Philadelphia with his prize—treating his conquered foe with great kindness, soaring above retaliation for his recent base treatment as a prisoner.
On his arrival at Philadelphia, the U.S. government purchased the General Monk—fitted for a cruise and placed in command of Capt. Barney. He sailed for Paris in November of that year with despatches to Benjamin Franklin.
