Esek Hopkins commanded the first Continental naval squadron during the American Revolution.

Who commanded the first Continental naval squadron? A quick look at the early chapters of American maritime history helps us see how leadership, logistics, and bold action shaped what the Navy would become.

Meet the pioneer behind the flag

When people talk about the birth of the United States Navy, two names often come up in the same breath: John Paul Jones and the idea that American ships could fight back at sea. But the very first Continental naval squadron was commanded by a man who doesn’t always steal the spotlight: Esek Hopkins. In 1775, the Continental Congress chose Hopkins to lead the first flotilla of American warships. This wasn’t just a ceremonial appointment. It was a real, hands-on charge to build a fleet from scratch, to coordinate several ships, and to set a course for how the new nation would wage sea power.

Here’s the thing about Hopkins that often gets lost in the retellings: he had to connect a lot of moving parts. You’ve got ships that are essentially wooden, crews who are learning to navigate unfamiliar waters, and a strategic goal that’s as much about disrupting British supply lines as it is about showing that the colonies could stand up to a royal navy. Hopkins didn’t just sail a flag into the Atlantic; he helped launch a new approach to naval strategy for an independent United States.

What Hopkins actually did

The first Continental squadron under Hopkins was more than a parade of vessels. It was a coordinated effort, anchored in a simple but powerful idea: seize the initiative at sea and pressure the British from multiple angles. Hopkins led missions that aimed to attack British shipping and to secure strategic positions that could support American ambitions on land as well as at sea.

One notable chapter of this early effort was the Bahamas expedition—an ambitious push to seize supplies and disrupt British commerce in and around Nassau. This was not a flawless campaign. The plan tested things like logistics, timing, and the willingness of crews to press forward under unfamiliar conditions. But it also established a pattern: the navy’s strength would come from disciplined, ship-to-ship coordination and a readiness to take calculated risks.

Why Hopkins isn’t the only name you’ll hear—and why that matters

You’ll hear a lot about John Paul Jones—the sailor whose daring raids and sea dog reputation often define the era for many readers. Jones certainly helped carry American naval prestige forward and earned the title “the father of the American Navy” in popular memory. But his legendary exploits came after Hopkins’ foundational work. Washington is remembered for leading the Continental Army, which is a different theater of the war altogether. Franklin’s role was diplomatic—he helped secure French support that would eventually tilt the balance at sea—but he wasn’t commanding ships himself.

So when you’re studying this history, it’s helpful to keep the distinctions straight. Hopkins laid the groundwork. Jones built the legend. Washington provided the overarching leadership on land, and Franklin shaped the alliance that made sustained naval operations possible. Understanding who did what helps explain why the early American Navy looked the way it did and why its early decisions mattered.

What a squadron actually teaches us about leadership

If you’re sailing through a course on maritime history or just curious about how naval teams function, Hopkins’ example is a neat case study. A few practical takeaways stand out:

• Clear command, clear action: Hopkins had a clear responsibility to set a plan for multiple ships. When you’re coordinating a squadron, simple, strong orders help prevent chaos aboard a ship and on the deck of another.

• Logistics matter as much as firepower: The Bahamas expedition showed that getting the right supplies to the right place at the right time can define success or failure as much as a cannon shot.

• Multi-ship teamwork: A squadron succeeds when its ships cover each other, share information, and adapt together as conditions change. Communication is the backbone.

• Managing risk: The early Navy faced stiff unknowns—shifting weather, unfamiliar waters, and enemy response. Hopkins’ decisions illustrate that leadership is often about weighing risk against opportunity.

• The balance between offense and logistics: Disrupting enemy shipping is a disruptive action, but it only pays off if you can sustain it. The long view matters.

A friendly detour that still lands back on the main road

As you think about Hopkins and his crew, you might wonder how this translates to modern sea power. Today’s fleets juggle even more moving parts—advanced communications, more diverse ship types, and new kinds of threats. Yet the core challenges are unchanged: lead a team, keep supply lines steady, and stay flexible under pressure. The sea is a good teacher—its rhythms are patient, but it won’t wait for a plan that’s slow to adapt.

How this fits into a broader story you might be exploring

For students studying maritime history and naval tradition, Hopkins’ role is a reminder that every big era has a starting point. The Continental Navy wasn’t built in a single day, and it didn’t become a dominant force overnight. It grew through trial, error, and the steady leadership of people who believed in a vision larger than a single ship or a single battle.

If you’re curious to see more, consider how the early naval leadership intersected with diplomacy, geography, and logistics. The same questions pop up across eras: How do you assemble a team that can work across ships and crews? How do you balance bold action with steady provisioning? What does it take to translate a strategic idea into a real capability at sea?

Connecting the thread to today’s study context

For anyone at LMHS in the NJROTC circle who enjoys historical curiosity, this story is a neat thread to pull. It’s a reminder that history isn’t a string of dates; it’s a narrative about people making choices under pressure. It’s also a reminder that leadership—clear direction, careful planning, and teamwork—still shows up in every charted course and every drill night.

If you’d like to explore further, look into primary sources and credible histories about Hopkins, the Bahamas expedition, and the early Continental Navy. The Naval History and Heritage Command, along with other reputable repositories, offers a window into the period that’s engaging without being dry. You’ll find maps, ship logs, and anecdotal notes that bring the era to life in a way that makes the lessons feel tangible.

A closing thought, with a nod to the “who” and the “why”

So, who commanded the first Continental naval squadron? The answer is C) Esek Hopkins. He wasn’t the loudest voice in the room, and his story isn’t the one that gets plastered on the front of history books alone. But without Hopkins, the early American Navy wouldn’t have a coherent start. His leadership—balanced with the realities of ships, crews, and the sea—helped show that the United States could compete on the water as it did on land.

If you’re curious about this era, take a moment to imagine Hopkins at the helm, the spray of salt air, the creak of timber under strain, and the steady clack of a drumbeat signaling maneuver. History isn’t just about what happened; it’s about how people faced the unknown and kept moving forward. And that has a quiet, lasting relevance for anyone who’s ever stood at the threshold of a challenging mission—whether aboard a classroom desk or a real ship’s deck.