"As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."
The British vessels were a brig and a sloop-of-war. They wanted to fight as badly as did Captain Barry, and, as they could not sail, they got out sweeps and rowed up to the American frigate. It was weary work, and it took them six hours to do it.
Then came the hails of the captains and the roar of cannon, and soon there was a very pretty fight, with theAlliancein a dangerous situation. She was too heavy to be moved with sweeps, like the light British vessels, so they got on her quarters and poured in broadsides, while she could reply only with a few guns.
Barry raged like a wild bull, bidding his men fight, and begging for a wind. As he did so, a grape-shot struck him in the shoulder and felled him to the deck. As he was carried below, a shot carried away the American flag. A lusty cheer came from the British ships; they thought the flag down and the victory theirs. They soon saw it flying again.
But theAlliancewas in sore straits. She was getting far more than she could give, and had done little harm to her foes. At length a lieutenant came down to the wounded captain.
"We cannot handle the ship and are being cut to pieces," he said. "The rigging is in tatters and the fore-topmast in danger, and the carpenter reports two serious leaks. Eight or ten of our people are killed and more wounded. The case seems hopeless, sir; shall we strike the colors?"
"No!" roared Barry, sitting bolt upright. "Not on your life! If the ship can't be fought without me, then carry me on deck."
The lieutenant went up and reported, and the story soon got to the men.
"Good for Captain Barry," they shouted. "We'll stand by the old man."
A minute later a change came. A ripple of water was seen. Soon a breeze rose, the sails filled out, and theAllianceslipped forward and yielded to her helm.
This was what the brave Barry had been waiting for. It was not a case of whistling for a wind, as sailors often do, but of hoping and praying for a wind. It came just in time to save theAlliancefrom lowering her proud flag, or from going to the bottom with it still flying, as would have suited her bold captain the better.
Now she was able to give her foes broadside for broadside, and you may be sure that her gunners, who had been like dogs wild to get at the game, now poured in shot so fast and furious that they soon drove the foe in terror from his guns. In a short time, just as Captain Barry was brought on deck with his wound dressed, their flags came down.
The prizes proved to be theAtlantaand theTrepassy. That fight was near the last in the war. At a later date Captain Barry had the honor of carrying General Lafayette home to France in his ship.
CAPTAIN SAMUEL TUCKER was a Yankee boy who began his career by running away from home and shipping as a cabin-boy on the British sloop-of-warRoyal George. It was a good school for a seaman, and when his time was up he knew his business well.
There was no war then, and he shipped as second-mate on a merchant vessel sailing from Salem. Here he soon had a taste of warlike life and showed what kind of stuff was in him. The Mediterranean Sea in those days was infested by pirates sailing from the Moorish ports. It was the work of these to capture merchant ships, take them into port, and sell their crews as slaves.
On Tucker's first voyage from Salem two of these piratical craft, swift corsairs from Algiers, came in sight and began a chase of the merchantman.
What could be done? There was no hope to run away from those fleet-footed sea-hounds. There was no hope to beat them off in a fight. The men were in a panic and the captain sought courage in rum, and was soon too drunk to handle his ship.
Tucker came to the rescue. Taking the helm, he put it hard down and headed straight for the pirates. It looked as if he was sailing straight for destruction, but he knew what he was about. The Yankee schooner, if it could not sail as fast, could be handled more easily than the Algerines, with their lateen sails; and by skilful steering he got her into such a position that the pirates could not fire into him without hurting one another.
Try as they would, Mate Tucker kept his vessel in this position, and held her there until the shades of night fell. Then he slipped away, and by daylight was safe in port. You may see from this that Samuel Tucker was a bold and a smart man and an able seaman.
After that he was at one time an officer in the British navy and at another a merchant captain. He was in London when the Revolution began. His courage and skill were so well known that he was offered a commission in either the army or the navy, if he was willing to serve "his gracious Majesty."
Tucker forgot where he was, and rudely replied, "Hang his gracious Majesty! Do you think I am the sort of man to fight against my country?"
Those were rash words to be spoken in London. A charge of treason was brought against him and he had to seek safety in flight. For a time he hid in the house of a country inn-keeper who was his friend. Then a chance came to get on shipboard and escape from the country. In this way he got back to his native land.
It was not only the English who knew Captain Tucker's ability. He was known in America as well. No doubt there were many who had heard how he had served the pirate Moors. He had not long been home when General Washington sent him a commission as captain of the shipFranklin, and ordered him to get to sea at once.
The messenger with the commission made his way to the straggling old town of Marblehead, where Tucker lived. Inquiring for him in the town, he was directed to a certain house.
Reaching this, the messenger saw a roughly-dressed and weather-beaten person working in the yard, with an old tarpaulin hat on his head and a red bandanna handkerchief tied loosely round his neck.
The man, thinking him an ordinary laborer, called out from his horse:
"Say, good fellow, can you tell if the Honorable Samuel Tucker lives here or hereabouts?"
The workman looked up with a quizzical glance from under the brim of his tarpaulin and replied:
"Honorable, honorable! There's none of that name in Marblehead. He must be one of the Salem Tuckers. I'm the only Samuel Tucker in this town."
"Anyhow, this is where I was told to stop. A house standing alone, with its gable-end to the sea. This is the only place I've seen that looks like that."
"Then I must be the Tucker you want, honorable or not. What is it you have got to say to him?"
He soon learned, and was glad to receive the news. Early the next morning he had left home for the port where theFranklinlay, and not many days passed before he was out at sea.
TheFranklin, under his command proved one of the most active ships afloat. She sent in prizes in numbers. More than thirty were taken in 1776—ships, brigs, and smaller vessels, including "a brigantine from Scotland worth fifteen thousand pounds."
These were not all captured without fighting. Two British brigs were taken so near Marblehead that the captain's wife and sister, hearing the sound of cannon, went up on a high hill close by and saw the fight through a spy-glass.
The next year Captain Tucker was put in command of the frigateBoston, and in 1778 he took John Adams to France as envoy from the United States.
It was a voyage full of incidents. They passed through days of storm, which nearly wrecked the ship. Many vessels were seen, and theBostonwas chased by three men-of-war.
She ran away from these, and soon after came across a large armed vessel, which Captain Tucker decided to fight. When the drumcalled the men to quarters, Mr. Adams seized a musket and joined the marines.
The captain requested him to go below. Finding that he was not going to obey, Tucker laid a hand on his shoulder and said firmly:
"Mr. Adams, I am commanded by the Continental Congress to deliver you safe in France. You must go below."
Mr. Adams smiled and complied. The next minute there came a broadside from the stranger. There was no response from theBoston. Other shots came, and still no reply. At length the blue-jackets began to grumble. Looking them in the eyes, Tucker said, in quizzical tones:
"Hold on, lads. I want to get that egg without breaking the shell."
In a few minutes more, having got into the position he wished, he raked the enemy from stem to stern with a broadside. That one sample was enough. She struck her flag without waiting for a second. Soon after the envoy was safely landed in France.
Numbers of anecdotes are told of Captain Tucker, who was a man much given to saying odd and amusing things.
Once he fell in with a British frigate which had been sent in search of him. He had made himself a thorn in the British lion's side and was badly wanted. Up came Tucker boldly, with the English flag at his peak.
He was hailed, and replied that he was Captain Gordon, of the English navy, and that he was out in search of theBoston, commanded by the rebel Tucker.
"If I can sight the ship I'll carry him to New York, dead or alive," he said.
"Have you ever seen him?"
"Well, I've heard of him; they say he is a tough customer."
While talking, he had been manœuvering to gain a raking position. Just as he did so, a sailor in the British tops cried,—
"Look out below! That is Tucker himself."
The Englishman was in a trap. TheBostonhad him at a great disadvantage. There was nothing to do but to strike his flag, and this he did without firing a gun.
When Charleston was taken by the British, theBostonwas one of the vessels cooped up there and lost. Captain Tucker was taken prisoner. After his exchange, as he had noship, he took the sloop-of-warThorn, one of his former prizes, and went out cruising as a privateer.
After a three weeks' cruise, theThornmet an English ship of twenty-three guns.
"She means to fight us," said the captain to his men, after watching her movements. "If we go alongside her like men she will be ours in thirty minutes; if we can't go as men we have no business there at all. Every man who is willing to fight go down the starboard gangway; all others can go down the larboard." Every soul of them took the starboard.
He manœuvered so that in a few minutes the vessels lay side by side. The Englishman opened with a broadside that did little damage. TheThornreplied with a destructive fire, and kept it up so hotly that within thirty minutes a loud cry came from the English ship:
"Quarters, for God's sake! Our ship is sinking. Our men are dying of their wounds."
"How can you expect quarters while your flag is flying?" demanded Captain Tucker.
"Our halliards are shot away."
"Then cut away your ensign staff, or you'll all be dead men."
It was done and the firing ceased. A dreadful execution had taken place on the Englishman's deck, more than a third of her crew being dead and wounded, while blood was everywhere.
And so we take our leave of Captain Tucker. He was one of the kind of sailors that everyone likes to read about.
YOU must think by this time that we had many bold and brave sailors in the Revolution. So we had. You have not been told all their exploits, but only a few among the most gallant ones. There is one more story that is worth telling, before we leave the Revolutionary times.
If you are familiar with American history you will remember that Lord Cornwallis surrendered to General Washington in October, 1781. That is generally looked on as the end of the war. There was no more fighting on land. But there was one bold affair on the water in April, 1782, six months after the work of the armies was done.
This was in Delaware Bay, where Captain Barry had taken a war vessel with a few rowboats. The hero of this later exploit was Captain Joshua Barney, and he was as brave a man as John Barry.
Captain Barney had seen service through the whole war. Like John Paul Jones, an accident had made him a captain of a ship when he was a mere boy. He was only seventeen, yet he handled his ship with the skill of an old mariner. War broke out soon afterward and he became an officer on theHornet, though still only a boy. Soon after he had some lively service in theWasp, and captured a British privateer with the little sloopSachem.
Then he had some bad fortune, for he was taken prisoner while bringing in a prize vessel, and was put on the terrible prison-shipJersey. Few of the poor fellows on that vessel lived to tell the story of the frightful way in which they were treated. But young Barney managed to escape, and went to sea again as captain of a merchant vessel. In this he was chased by a British war-vessel, theRosebud. Shall I tell you the way that Captain Barney plucked the petals of theRosebud? He fireda crowbar at her out of one of his cannon. This new kind of cannon-ball went whirling through the air and came ripping and tearing through the sails of the British ship. After making rags of her sails, it hit her foremast and cut out a big slice. The Americans now sailed quietly away. They could laugh at John Bull'sRosebud.
On the 8th of April, 1782, Captain Barney took command of theHyder Ali. This was a merchant ship which had been bought by the State of Pennsylvania. It was not fit for a warship, but the State was in a hurry, so eight gun-ports were cut on each side, and the ship was mounted with sixteen six-pounder cannon. Then she set sail from Philadelphia in charge of a fleet of merchant vessels.
On they went, down the Delaware river and bay, until Cape May was reached. Here Captain Barney saw that there was trouble ahead. Three British vessels came in sight. One of these was the frigateQuebec. The others were a brig, theFair American, and a sloop-of-war, theGeneral Monk.
Before such a fleet theHyder Aliwas like a sparrow before a hawk. Captain Barney atonce signaled his merchant ships to make all haste up the bay. Away they flew like a flock of frightened birds, except one, whose captain thought he would slip round the cape and get to sea. But the British soon swallowed up him and his ship, so he paid well for his smartness.
On up the bay went the other merchantmen, with theHyder Aliin the rear, and the British squadron hot on their track. The frigate sailed into a side channel, thinking it would find a short-cut and so head them off. Captain Barney watched this movement with keen eyes. The big ship had put herself out of reach for a time. He knew well that she could not get through that way, and laid his plans to have some sport with the small fish while the big fish was away.
The brigFair Americanwas a privateer and a fast one. It came up with a fair breeze, soon reaching theHyder Ali, which expected a fight. But the privateer wanted prizes more than cannon balls, and went straight on, firing a broadside that did no harm. Captain Barney let her go. The sloop-of-war was coming fast behind, and this was enough for him to attend to. It had more guns than his ship and theywere double the weight—twelve-pounders to his six-pounders. As the war sloop came near, Barney turned to his helmsman, and said:
"I want you to go opposite to my orders. If I tell you to port your helm, you are to put it hard-a-starboard. Do you understand?"
"Aye, aye!" answered the tar.
Up came theGeneral Monk, its captain thinking to make an easy prize, as theFair Americanhad been let go past without a shot. When about a dozen yards away the British captain hailed:
"Strike your colors, or I will fire!"
"Hard-a-port your helm," roared Barney to the man at the wheel. "Do you want her to run aboard us?"
The order was heard on board the enemy, and the captain gave orders to meet the expected movement. But hard-a-starboard went the helm, and theHyder Aliswung round in front of the enemy, whose bowsprit caught and became entangled in her fore-rigging.
This gave the American ship a raking position, and in a moment the grim tars were hard at work with their guns. Broadsides were poured in as fast as they could load and fire,and every shot swept from bow to stern. The Englishman, though he had double the weight of metal, could not get out of the awkward position in which Barney had caught him, and his guns did little harm. In less than half an hour down went his flag.
It was none too soon. The frigate had seen the fight from a distance, and was making all haste to get out of its awkward position and take a hand in the game. Barney did not even wait to ask the name of his prize, but put a crew on board and bade them make all haste to Philadelphia.
He followed, steering now for theFair American. But the privateer captain had seen the fate of theGeneral Monkand concluded that he had business elsewhere. So he ran away instead of fighting, and soon ran ashore. TheHyder Alileft him there and made all haste up stream. The frigate had by this time got out of her side channel, and was coming up under full sail. So Captain Barney crowded on all sail also and fled away after his prize.
If the frigate had got within gunshot it would soon have settled the question, for it could have sunk theHyder Aliwith a broadside.But it was not fast enough, and after a speedy run the victor and her prize drew up beside a Philadelphia wharf.
Never had the good people of the Quaker City gazed on such a sight as now met their eyes. Nothing had been done to remove the marks of battle. The ships came in as they had left the fight. Shattered bulwarks, ragged rents in the hulls, sails in tatters and drooping cordage told the story of the desperate battle.
And the decks presented a terrible picture. Blood was everywhere. On theGeneral Monkwere stretched the dead bodies of twenty men, while twenty-six wounded lay groaning below. TheHyder Alihad suffered much less, having but four killed and eleven wounded.
In all the Revolutionary War there have been few more brilliant actions; and his victory gave Joshua Barney a high standing among the naval commanders of the young Republic.
Shall we take up the story of the gallant Barney at a later date? Thirty years after his victory over theGeneral Monk, there was war again between Americans and Britons, and Commodore Barney, now an old man, took an active part.
He started out in the early days of the war with no better vessel than the schoonerRossie, of fourteen guns and 120 men. He soon had lively times. TheRossiewas a clipper, and he could run away from an enemy too strong to fight, though running away was not much to his taste.
In his first cruise he was out forty-five days, and in that time he captured fourteen vessels and 166 prisoners.
In a month's time he was at sea again. Now he got among British frigates and had to trust to the heels of his little craft. But in spite of the great ships that haunted the seas, new prizes fell into his hands, one being taken after an hour's fight. In all, the vessels and cargoes taken by him were worth nearly $3,000,000, though most of this wealth went to the bottom of the sea.
The next year (1813) he was made commodore of a fleet of gunboats in Chesapeake Bay. Here for a year he had very little to do. Then the British sailed up the Chesapeake, intending to capture Washington and Baltimore, Barney did not hesitate to attack them, and did considerable damage, though they were much too strong for his small fleet.
At length there came from the frightened people at Washington the order to burn his fleet, and, much against his will, he was forced to consign his gunboats to the flames. With his men, about four hundred in all, he joined the army assembled to defend the capital.
These sailor-soldiers made the best fight of any of the troops that sought to save Washington from capture; but during the fight Commodore Barney received a wound that brought his fighting days to an end. Fortunately there was little more fighting to do, and peace reigned over his few remaining years of life.
I SUPPOSE all the readers of this book know what a pirate is. For those who may not know, I would say that a pirate is a sea-robber. They are terrible fellows, these pirates, who live by murder and plunder. In old times there were many ship-loads of them upon the seas, who captured every merchant vessel they met with and often killed all on board.
There have been whole nations of pirates, and that as late as a hundred years ago. By looking at an atlas you will see at the north of Africa the nations of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. The people of these nations are called Moors, and they used to be great sea-robbers. They sent out fast vessels in the MediterraneanSea, and no merchant ship there was safe. Hundreds of such ships were taken and robbed. Their crews were not killed, but they were sold as slaves, which was nearly as terrible.
Would you not think that the powerful nations of Europe would have soon put a stop to this? They could have sent fleets and armies there and conquered the Moors. But instead of that, they paid them to let their ships alone.
Not long after the Revolution these sea-robbers began to make trouble for the United States. The new nation, you should know, had no navy. After it was done fighting with the British, it was so poor that it sold all its ships. But it soon had many merchant ships, sailing to all seas, which were left to take care of themselves the best way they could.
What did the pirates of Algiers care for this young nation across the Atlantic, that had rich merchant ships and not a war vessel to protect them? Very little, I fancy. It is certain that they soon began to capture American ships and sell their sailors for slaves. In a short time nearly two hundred American sailors were working as slaves in the Moorish states.
The United States did not act very bravely.Instead of sending out a fleet of warships, it made a treaty with Algiers and agreed to pay a certain sum of money every year to have its vessels let alone. While the treaty lasted, more than a million dollars were paid to the Dey of Algiers. If that much had been spent for strong frigates, the United States would not have had the disgrace of paying tribute to the Moors. But the natives of Europe were doing the same, so the disgrace belonged to them also.
The trouble with the Moors got worse and worse, and the Dey of Algiers became very insolent to Americans.
"You are my slaves, for you pay me tribute," he said to the captain of an American frigate. "I have a right to order you as I please."
When the other pirate nations, Tunis and Tripoli, found that Algiers was being paid, they asked for tribute, too. And they began to capture American ships and sell their crews into slavery. And their monarchs were as insolent as the Dey.
The United States at that time was young and poor. It had not been twenty years free from British armies. But it was proud, if it was poor, and did not like to have its captainsand consuls ordered about like servants. So the President and Congress thought it was time to teach the Moors a lesson.
This was in 1801. By that time a fleet of war vessels had been built, and a squadron of these was sent to the Mediterranean under Commodore Richard Dale. This was the man who had been in Paul Jones's great fight and had received the surrender of the captain of theSerapis. He was a bold, brave officer, but Congress had ordered him not to fight if he could help it, and therefore very little was done.
But there was one battle, the story of which we must tell. Commodore Dale had three frigates and one little schooner, theEnterprise. All the honor of the cruise came to this little craft.
She was on her way to Malta when she came in sight of a low, long vessel, at whose mast-head floated the flag of Tripoli. When this came near, it was seen to be a corsair which had long waged war on American merchantmen.
Before Captain Sterrett, of theEnterprise, had time to hail, the Moors began to fire at his ship. He was told not to fight if he could helpit, but Sterrett decided that he could not help it. He brought his schooner within pistol shot of the Moor, and poured broadsides into the pirate ship as fast as the men could load and fire. The Moors replied. For two hours the battle continued, with roar of cannon and rattle of muskets and dense clouds of smoke.
The vessels were small and their guns were light, so that the battle was long drawn out.
At last the fire of the corsair ceased, and a whiff of air carried away the smoke. Looking across the waves, the sailors saw that the flag of Tripoli no longer waved, and three hearty American cheers rang out. The tars left their guns and were getting ready to board their prize, when up again went the flag of Tripoli and another broadside was fired into their vessel.
Their cheers of triumph turned to cries of rage. Back to their guns they rushed, and fought more fiercely than before. They did not care now to take the prize; they wished to send her, with her crew of villains, to the bottom of the sea.
The Moors fought as fiercely as the Americans. Running their vessel against theEnterprise,they tried again and again to leap on board and finish the battle with pistol and cutlass; but each time they were driven back.
The men at the guns meanwhile poured in two more broadsides, and once more down came the flag of Tripoli.
Captain Sterrett did not trust the traitors this time. He bade his men keep to their guns, and ordered the Tripolitans to bring their vessel under the quarter of theEnterprise. They had no sooner done so than a throng of the Moorish pirates tried to board the schooner.
"No quarter for the treacherous dogs!" was the cry of the furious sailors. "Pour it into them; send the thieves to the bottom!"
TheEnterprisenow drew off to a good position and raked the foe with repeated broadsides. The Moors were bitterly punished for their treachery. Their deck ran red with blood; men and officers lay bleeding in throngs; the cries of the wounded rose above the noise of the cannon. The flag was down again, but no heed was paid to that. The infuriated sailors were bent on sending the pirate craft to the bottom.
At length the corsair captain, an old man with a flowing white beard, appeared at the side of his ship, sorely wounded, and, with a low bow, cast his flag into the sea. Then Captain Sterrett, though he still felt like sinking the corsair, ordered the firing to stop.
The prize proved to be named theTripoli. What was to be done with it? Captain Sterrett had no authority to take prizes. At length he concluded that he would teach the Bashaw of Tripoli a lesson.
He sent Lieutenant David Porter, a daring young officer who was yet to make his mark, on the prize, telling him to make a wreck of her.
Porter was glad to obey those orders. He made the captive Tripolitans cut down their masts, throw all their cannon and small arms into the sea, cut their sails to pieces, and fling all their powder overboard. He left them only a jury-mast and a small sail.
"See here," said Porter to the Moorish captain, "we have not lost a man, while fifty of your men are killed or wounded. You may go home now and tell this to your Bashaw, and say to him that in the time to come the only tributehe will get from the United States will be a tribute of powder and balls."
Away drifted the wrecked hulk, followed by the jeers of the American sailors, who were only sorry that the treacherous pirate had not been scuttled and sent to the bottom of the sea.
When it reached Tripoli the Bashaw was mad with rage. Instead of the plunder and the white slaves he had looked for, he had only a dismantled hulk.
The old captain showed him his wounds and told him how hard he had fought. But his fury was not to be appeased. He had the white-bearded commander led through the streets tied to a jackass—the greatest disgrace he could have inflicted on any Moor. This was followed by five hundred blows with a stick.
The Moorish sailors declared that the Americans had fired enchanted shot. This, and the severe punishment of the captain of theTripoli, so scared the sailors of the city that for a year after the fierce Bashaw found it next to impossible to muster a ship's crew. They did not care to be treated as the men on theTripolihad been.
Such was the first lesson which the sailors of the new nation gave to the pirates of the Mediterranean. It was the beginning of a policy which was to put an end to the piracy which had prevailed for centuries on those waters.
IN the shipEssex, one of the fleet that was sent to the Mediterranean to deal with the Moorish pirates, there was a brave young officer named Stephen Decatur. He was little more than a boy, for he was just past twenty-one years of age; but he had been in the fight between theEnterpriseand theTripoli, and was so bold and daring that he was sure to make his mark.
I must tell you how he first showed himself a true American. It was when theEssexwas lying in the harbor at Barcelona, a seaport of Spain. TheEssexwas a handsome little vessel, and there was much praise of her in the town, people of fashion came to see her and invited her officers to their houses and treated them with great respect.
Now there was a Spanish warship lying in the port, of the kind called a xebec, a sort of three-masted vessel common in the Mediterranean Sea.
The officers of this ship did not like to see so much respect given to the Americans and so little to themselves. They grew jealous and angry, and did all they could to annoy and insult the officers of theEssex. Every time one of her boats rowed past the xebec it would be challenged and ugly things said.
The Americans bore all this quietly for a while. One day Captain Bainbridge, of theEssex, was talked to in an abusive way, and said little back. Another time a boat, under command of Lieutenant Decatur, came under the guns of the xebec, and the Spaniards on the deck hailed him with insulting words. This was more than young blood could stand, and he called to the officer of the deck and asked him what that meant, but the haughty Spaniard would give him no satisfaction.
"Very well," said Decatur. "I will call to see you in the morning. Pull off, lads."
The next morning Decatur had himself rowed over to the xebec, and went on board.He asked for the officer who was in charge the night before.
"He has gone ashore," was the reply.
"Well, then," said Decatur, in tones that every one on board could hear, "tell him that Lieutenant Decatur, of the frigateEssex, calls him a cowardly scoundrel, and when he meets him on shore he will cut his ears off."
There were no more insults after that. Decatur spoke as if he meant what he said, and the officers of the xebec did not want to lose their ears. But the United States Minister to Spain took up the matter and did not rest until he got a full apology for the insults to the Americans.
I have told this little story to let you see what kind of a man Stephen Decatur was. But this was only a minor affair. He was soon to make himself famous by one of the most brilliant deeds in the history of the American navy.
In October, 1802, a serious disaster came to the American fleet. The frigatePhiladelphiawas chasing a runaway vessel into the harbor of Tripoli, when she got in shoal water and suddenly ran fast aground on a shelf of rock.
Here was an awkward position. CaptainBainbridge threw overboard most of his cannon and his anchors, and everything that would lighten the ship, even cutting down his foremasts; but all to no purpose. She still clung fast to the rock.
Soon a flock of gunboats came down the harbor and saw the bad fix the Americans were in. Bainbridge was quite unable to fight them, for they could have kept out of the way of his guns and made kindling wood of his vessel. There was nothing to do but to surrender. So he flooded the powder magazine, threw all the small arms overboard, and knocked holes in the bottom of the ship. Then he hauled down his flag.
The gunboats now came up like a flock of hawks, and soon the Moors were clambering over the rails. In a minute more they were in every part of the ship, breaking open chests and storerooms and plundering officers and men. Two of them would hold an officer and a third rob him of his watch and purse, his sword, and everything of value he possessed. The plundering did not stop till the captain knocked down one of the Moors for trying to rob him of an ivory miniature of his wife.
Then the Americans were made to get into the gunboats and were taken ashore. They were marched in triumph through the streets, and the men were thrown into prison. The officers were invited to supper by the Bashaw, and treated as if they were guests. But as soon as the supper was over, they, too, were taken to the prison rooms in which they were to stay till the end of the war.
The Tripolitans afterwards got thePhiladelphiaoff the rocks during a high tide, plugged up the holes in her bottom, fished up her guns and anchors, and fitted her up for war. The Bashaw was proud enough of his fine prize, which had not cost him a man or a shot, and was a better ship than he had ever seen before.
When the American commodore learned of the loss of thePhiladelphiahe was in a bad state of mind. To lose one of his best ships in this way was not at all to his liking, for he was a man who did not enjoy losing a ship; and to know that the Moors had it and were making a warship of it was a hard thing to bear.
From his prison Captain Bainbridge wrote letters to Commodore Preble, which the Moorsread and then sent out to the fleet. They did not know that the letters had postscripts written in lemon-juice which only came out when the sheet of paper was held to the heat of a fire. In these the captain asked the commodore to try and destroy the captured ship.
Commodore Preble was a daring officer, and was ready enough for this, if he only knew how it could be done. Lieutenant Decatur was then in command of theEnterprise, the schooner which had fought with theTripoli. He asked the commodore to let him take theEnterpriseinto the harbor and try to destroy the captured ship. He knew he could do it, he said, if he only had a chance. At any rate, he wanted to try.
Commodore Preble shook his head. It could not be done that way. He would only lose his own vessel and his men. But there was a way it might be done. The Moors might be taken by surprise and their prize burned in their sight. It was a desperate enterprise. Every man who took part in it would be in great danger of death. But that danger did not give much trouble to bold young Decatur, who was as ready to fight as he was to eat.
What was the commodore's plan, do you ask? Well, it was this. Some time earlier theEnterprisehad captured theMastico, a vessel from Tripoli. Preble gave this craft the new name of theIntrepidand proposed to send it into the harbor. The Moors did not know of its capture and would not suspect it, and thus it might get up close to thePhiladelphia.
Decatur was made commander and called for volunteers. Every man and boy on theEnterprisewanted to go; and he picked out over seventy of them. As he was about to leave the deck, a boy came up and asked if he couldn't go, too.
"Why do you want to go, Jack?"
"Well, Captain, you see, I'd kind o' like to see the country."
This was such a queer reason that Decatur laughed and told him he might go.
One dark night, on February 3, 1804, theIntrepidleft the rest of the fleet and set sail for the harbor of Tripoli. The littleSirenwent with her for company. But the weather proved stormy, and it was not until the 15th that they were able to carry out their plan.
About noon they came in sight of the spiresof the city of Tripoli. Decatur did not wish to reach thePhiladelphiauntil nightfall, but he was afraid to take in sail, for fear of being suspected; so he dragged a cable and a number of buckets behind to lessen his speed.
After a time thePhiladelphiacame in sight. She was anchored well in the harbor, under the guns of two heavy batteries. Two cruisers and a number of gunboats lay near by. It was a desperate and dangerous business which Decatur and his tars had taken in hand, but they did not let that trouble them.
At about ten o'clock at night theIntrepidcame into the harbor's mouth. The wind had fallen and she crept slowly along over the smooth sea. TheSirenstayed behind. Her work was that of rescue in case of trouble. Straight for the frigate went the devoted crew. A new moon sent its soft lustre over the waves. All was still in city and fleet.
Soon theIntrepidcame near the frigate. Only twelve men were visible on her deck. The others were lying flat in the shadow on the bulwarks, each with cutlass tightly clutched in hand.
"What vessel is that?" was asked in Moorish words from the frigate.
"TheMastico, from Malta," answered the pilot in the same tongue. "We lost our anchors in the gale and were nearly wrecked. Can we ride by your ship for the night?"
The permission asked was granted, and a boat from theIntrepidmade a line fast to the frigate, while the men on the latter threw a line aboard. The ropes were passed to the hidden men on the deck, who pulled on them lustily.
As the little craft came up, the men on the frigate saw her anchors hanging in place.
"You have lied to us!" came a sharp hail. "Keep off! Cut those lines!"
Others had seen the concealed men, and the cry of "Americanos!" was raised.
The alarm came too late. The little craft was now close up and a hearty pull brought her against the hull of the large ship.
"Boarders away!" came the stirring order.
"Follow me, lads," cried Decatur, springing for the chain-plates of the frigate. Men and officers were after him hot-foot. Midshipman Charles Morris was the first to reach the deck, with Decatur close behind.