The Second Generation of the Continental Navy: Warren

Penobscot Expedition by Dominic Serres, circa 1779. (Wikimedia Commons). Warren met her end in this American defeat.

On May 15, 1776, the Continental Navy frigate Warren-32 slid down the ways into the Providence River, the first purpose-built American frigate to taste water.  The local committee came up with fifty dollars to pay musicians and throw a party for the men who had worked on her.  Eight more followed her in the next few weeks: Providence-28 (Providence) on May 18, Raleigh-32 (Portsmouth) on May 21, Boston-24 (Newburyport) on June 3, Hancock-32 (Newburyport) in July, Delaware-24 and Randolph-32 (Philadelphia) a few weeks later, Virginia-28 (Baltimore) in August, and Trumbull-28 (Chatham) in September.[i]  They were far from finished.  Rigging, masts, equipment, guns, and crews were all still necessary to complete them. 

The colonies already had a navy, just back from a successful, if ill-considered, raid on the Bahamas, where it had seized cannon, shot, and other war materiel already making its way into the armed forces of the rebelling colonies.  But, the ships were all converted civilian vessels turned into ad hoc navy ships.  Some performed well; others were ill-suited to combat.  But, these new ships were designed for war, making May 15 a seminal moment in the history of the Continental Navy.  Thirteen colonies, which hadn’t declared their independence, were creating capabilities designed to take the fight to the mother country on the sea, where she was strongest.

The Continental Congress approved the creation of this second generation of naval vessels on December 13, 1775 after reviewing the report of a committee created specifically for the purpose.  It intended to build 13 ships: five of 32 guns, five of 28, and three of 24.  Congress was precise in the amount to be paid for these ships: 866,666 and 2/3 dollars for all of them, roughly 66,666 and 2/3 dollars each.  Due to the limitations of the American shipbuilding industry—no yard was large or capable enough to handle the entire order in a timely fashion—the Congress spread construction across seven colonies.  It also helped firm up political support for financing the fleet, a practice still evident today.  Each colony was to provide the materials for the hull and masts assigned to it, but Congress undertook to provide the canvas and gunpowder.[i]

Captain Esek Hopkins, Commander in Chief of the Continental Navy, transferred his flag to Warren in December 1776, an indicator that he was ready to go to sea.   Still, he struggled with recruitment and the Royal Navy blockading Narraganset Bay.  Hopkins might be ready, but Warren wasn’t.  It was more than a year before she finally reached open water in March 1778.  Warren took two prizes, but entered Boston harbor on March 23 after only two weeks at sea.  She sortied briefly again in the fall, and, a third time in company with two other vessels.  On this cruise, in the spring of 1779, she took seven of nine ships in a British convoy.  She put to sea a fourth time in July 1779 under the command of Captain Dudley Saltonstall, who was also leading an impressive American battle fleet to Penobscot Bay to eject a new British lodgment on the Bagaduce Peninsula.  The Penobscot expedition was the largest American amphibious operation of the war. Unfortunately, the campaign against the British unraveled within days of reacing the peninsula.  It wasn’t long before a superior British squadron arrived.  The American ships fled deeper into the bay.  Trapped eventually, their crews set them afire to keep them from falling into British hands.  It was the worst American naval defeat of the war and a sad ending for a frigate that had begun life with such promise in May, 1776.[1]   


[1]                 “Warren II (Frigate),” Naval History and Heritage Command.  Available at https://www.history.navy.mil/content/history/nhhc/research/histories/ship-histories/danfs/w/warren-ii.html.  Accessed April 13, 2026.


[i]                  “Journal of the Continental Congress, December 13, 1775,” William Bell Clark, ed., Naval Documents of the American Revolution, Volume 3 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1967), 90.


[i]                  Nathan Miller, Sea of Glory: A Naval History of the American Revolution (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1974), 209-210.  The celebration in Providence was held on May 18 after the Providence’s hull joined the Warren in the river.

A Fleet Against One: The Continental Navy’s Embarrassing Clash off Block Island, April 6, 1776

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Bjorn Bruckshaw, a bio follows the post.

British nautical chart of the eastern portion of Long Island Sound showing the location of Block Island and the surrounding waters where the Continental Navy squadron encountered HMS Glasgow on April 6, 1776. Courtesy of the Library of Congress, Geography and Map Division. Public domain.

In the early morning hours of April 6, 1776, a lone British warship slipped through the moonlit waters southeast of Block Island. The twenty-gun frigate HMS Glasgow was carrying dispatches from Newport, Rhode Island, to the British fleet assembling off Charleston, South Carolina. Suddenly the ship’s lookout sighted sails on the horizon—then more sails behind them. Within minutes Captain Tyringham Howe realized the alarming truth: his single ship had encountered nearly the entire fleet of the newly created Continental Navy.¹

What followed should have been a decisive American victory. Commodore Esek Hopkins commanded a squadron of seven armed vessels, including the flagship Alfred, the brigs Cabot and Andrew Doria, and several additional ships. Against them stood only one British frigate. Yet by dawn the British ship had fought its way free and escaped. The encounter became one of the earliest—and most embarrassing—naval engagements of the American Revolution.²

The clash southeast of Block Island revealed the weaknesses of the young American navy: inexperienced crews, poor coordination between ships, and ineffective gunnery. Despite overwhelming numerical superiority, the Continental squadron failed to capture a single enemy warship. As one frustrated American officer later remarked, “A more imprudent, ill-conducted affair never happened.”³

The British vessel at the center of the encounter was HMS Glasgow, a sixth-rate twenty-gun frigate of the Royal Navy. In early April 1776 the ship had been tasked with delivering dispatches from Newport to the British fleet gathering off Charleston for an upcoming campaign against the southern colonies. That expedition would ultimately culminate in the failed British assault during the Battle of Sullivan’s Island in June 1776.⁴

Meanwhile the American rebellion had begun extending onto the seas. The Second Continental Congress had authorized the creation of a navy in late 1775 to challenge British control of American waters. By February 1776 the first ships of the fleet were ready for service, and Congress appointed Hopkins as commander-in-chief of the new force.⁵

Hopkins’s squadron consisted largely of converted merchant vessels hastily adapted for war. The fleet included the flagship Alfred, along with Columbus, Cabot, Andrew Doria, Providence, Wasp, and Fly. Among the officers serving aboard the fleet was a young lieutenant named John Paul Jones, who served aboard the Alfred and would later gain fame as one of the most celebrated naval commanders of the Revolution.⁶

Continue reading “A Fleet Against One: The Continental Navy’s Embarrassing Clash off Block Island, April 6, 1776”

The Nassau Cannon

In March, 1776 Commodore Esek Hopkins led the bulk of the Continental Navy on a raid to the Bahamas, where it occupied the town of New Providence on Nassau Island for two weeks.  Hopkins and his captains were drawn by a report of gunpowder stored in the town, which the patriot cause desperately needed.[1]  Unfortunately for Hopkins, the colony’s governor had spirited away some 150 barrels the night before the American flotilla’s arrival.  Not all was lost as the Marines quickly demanded and received the surrender of two small forts defending the town and its harbor.  With those in hand, Hopkins and his men quickly got to work removing artillery, military stores, and other useful supplies.

            While the American Marines and sailors managed to recover just 24 casks of powder, their haul in sizeable artillery pieces and mortars was impressive: 88 cannon ranging from 9- to 36-pounders; 15 mortars from 4-11 inches; 5,458 shells; 11,071 roundshot; 165 chain & double shot, plus fuses, rams, sponges, carriage trucks, mortar beds, copper hoops, and various stores not required for artillery.[2]  It was a boon to be sure.  The curious part of Hopkins’ inventory of captured war material, however, is that he sent it to Connecticut Governor Jonathan Trumbull, not a representative of the Naval Committee that had issued his orders.  To John Hancock, president of the Continental Congress, he sent a report of his mission, but only mentioned “I have taken all the Stores onboard the fleet.”[3]  Indeed, his report of the armaments aboard the British schooner Hawke, which the fleet captured on its return to American waters, was more complete.  It took another day, until April 9, for Hopkins to forward the inventory of seized cannon.  Congress merely resolved that an extract of his letter should be published for delegates to peruse.[4] Perhaps inadvertently, Hopkins exacerbated regional political conflicts and undermined his own command.

Continue reading “The Nassau Cannon”