The Boys of 1812 and Other Naval Heroes
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Title: The Boys of 1812 and Other Naval Heroes
Author: James Russell Soley
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOYS OF 1812 AND OTHER NAVAL HEROES ***
THE BOYS OF 1812
AND
OTHER NAVAL HEROES
THE BOYS OF '61;
=Or, Four Years of Fighting.= By CHARLES CARLETON
COFFIN. Fully illustrated. 8vo. Cloth. Gilt.
THE BOYS OF 1812,
=And Other Naval Heroes.= By Prof. J. RUSSELL
SOLEY. Illustrated from original drawings. 8vo.
Cloth. Gilt.
IN PREPARATION.
SAILOR BOYS OF '61.
By Prof. J. RUSSELL SOLEY.
[Illustration: "THE CUTLASS BREAKS AT THE HILT."]
THE BOYS OF 1812
AND OTHER NAVAL HEROES
BY JAMES RUSSELL SOLEY
AUTHOR OF "THE BLOCKADE AND THE CRUISERS"
[Illustration]
BOSTON
PUBLISHED BY ESTES AND LAURIAT
_Copyright, 1887,_
BY ESTES AND LAURIAT.
_University Press:_
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NAVY. 11
II. BIDDLE AND THE "RANDOLPH." 28
III. WAR ON THE ENEMY'S COAST. 35
IV. PAUL JONES'S CRUISES. 42
V. BARRY AND BARNEY. 60
VI. HOSTILITIES WITH FRANCE. 85
VII. TRIPOLI. 104
VIII. IMPRESSMENT. 150
IX. THE WAR OF 1812.--THE "CONSTITUTION"
AND THE "GUERRIÈRE." 157
X. THE FIRST SLOOP ACTION. 177
XI. DECATUR AND BAINBRIDGE. 183
XII. CAPTAIN JAMES LAWRENCE. 196
XIII. THE CRUISE OF THE "ESSEX." 210
XIV. PERRY AND LAKE ERIE. 246
XV. THE SLOOP ACTIONS. 263
XVI. MACDONOUGH AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 280
XVII. STEWART AND "OLD IRONSIDES." 292
XVIII. THE WAR WITH ALGIERS. 307
XIX. THE WAR WITH MEXICO. 318
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
BRIG, HEAD ON _Titlepage_
"THE CUTLASS BREAKS AT THE HILT." _Frontispiece_
"BOLD AND HARDY MEN WHO HAD FOLLOWED THE SEA
SINCE THEY WERE BOYS." 16
"HE SENT COLONEL GLOVER AND MR. PALFREY IN HOT HASTE
TO RAISE THE MINUTE-MEN." 21
NICHOLAS BIDDLE. 30
HE TOUCHED AT A SMALL TOWN IN IRELAND FOR SUPPLIES. 40
THE "DRAKE" SURRENDERS TO THE "RANGER." 47
"THE SLOOP WAS SWALLOWED UP IN THE SEETHING WATERS." 73
HEAVING THE LEAD ON BOARD THE FRIGATE. 81
"EVERYWHERE THE SHIP-YARDS WERE BUSY." 91
DAVID PORTER. 95
"IT WAS TWILIGHT BEFORE HE CAME UP WITH HER." 99
THOMAS TRUXTUN,--FROM MEDAL VOTED BY CONGRESS. 102
"CROWDING ON THE RAIL WITH THEIR SCIMITARS." 109
COMMODORE EDWARD PREBLE. 114
"HE CUT AWAY THE ANCHORS, ... BUT STILL THE SHIP
HUNG FAST." 117
"THE LIGHTS COULD BE SEEN GLITTERING IN THE HOUSES." 127
"THE 'PHILADELPHIA' LIGHTS THEM ON THEIR WAY." 131
STEPHEN DECATUR. 135
"AMONG THESE WAS ONE SIXTY-FOUR, THE 'AFRICA.'" 161
"A SQUALL OF WIND AND RAIN PASSED OVER US." 167
CAPTAIN ISAAC HULL. 171
"SHE LAY A HELPLESS WRECK IN THE TROUGH OF THE SEA." 173
"JACK LANG, A BRAVE AMERICAN BLUE-JACKET, LEAPED
FIRST." 179
"THE SHIPS WERE STEERING TO THE EASTWARD ON
PARALLEL COURSES." 189
JAMES LAWRENCE. 197
"ALONG THE SHORE, UPON EVERY HILL-TOP AND HEADLAND,
PEOPLE HAD GATHERED." 203
"WHEN THE 'ESSEX' ARRIVED OFF THE ISLAND SHE LAY
TO." 213
APPROACHING THE GALAPAGOS ISLANDS. 222
"'WE SURRENDER,' AND DOWN CAME THE FLAG." 225
"MOSTLY CARRONADES." 239
"A SQUALL STRUCK HER AND CARRIED AWAY HER
MAIN-TOPMAST." 241
OLIVER HAZARD PERRY. 247
"A SINGLE GUN BOOMED FROM BARCLAY'S SHIP." 255
"CALLING AWAY HIS BOAT, HE ROWED UNDER THE ENEMY'S
FIRE." 259
"THE 'PELICAN' WAS GUIDED TO HER BY THE SMOKE OF
THE BURNING MERCHANTMEN." 265
CAPTAIN LEWIS WARRINGTON. 270
"ONE ROUND SHOT ENTERED HER AFTERMOST PORT." 277
"ON THE STOCKS, AND NEARLY FINISHED, THE FINE
FRIGATE 'CONFIANCE.'" 283
CAPTAIN CHARLES STEWART. 296
"ACCOMPANIED BY ABDALLAH THE DRAGOMAN, I LEFT THE
CANAL." 313
THE BOYS OF 1812,
AND
OTHER NAVAL HEROES.
CHAPTER I.
THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NAVY.
Simply to defend themselves against the tyrannical encroachments of the
mother country was all that the thirteen colonies had in view when, in
1775, they took up arms against Great Britain. At this time the people
hoped, and many of them expected, that by making a determined resistance
they would induce the King and Parliament to treat them with fairness,
and to give them their rights as English citizens. It was only
gradually, during the summer and autumn of the first year,--after the
battle had been fought at Bunker Hill, and after Washington had been for
some time in command of the army which was laying siege to Boston, that
they began to feel that they could make a new nation by themselves, and
that independence was a thing that was worth fighting for, even though
it cost a long and bloody struggle, in which all of them would pass
through bitter suffering and many would give up their very lives.
As we look back upon it now, it is wonderful to think what a daring
thing it was for this small and scattered people, living in their little
towns along the seacoast from Maine to Georgia, or on farms and
plantations in the country, without an army or navy, without generals,
and above all without money,--for money is needed to carry on war more
than almost anything else,--to have thus made up their minds to stand up
bravely and manfully against such a power as Great Britain (one of the
greatest in the world), with all her troops and ships and immense
revenues. That we should have come out successfully from a contest so
unequal seems little short of marvellous; and we cannot but think that
it was the hand of an overruling Destiny that enabled us to succeed, by
giving us a general as skilful and prudent as Washington, statesmen as
wise as Franklin and Jefferson and Adams, an enemy as indolent as Sir
William Howe, and allies as powerful as our good friends the French.
Still, even from the beginning the colonists had some reason to hope for
success, at least in the war on land. They had no standing army, it is
true, but they were not without experience in the business of fighting.
In the Seven Years' War, which had come to an end only twelve years
before, they had furnished the soldiers who filled the ranks of the
English armies on American soil. These were the men who had fought the
bloody battles at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and whom the gallant
Wolfe had led on the Plains of Abraham. The veterans of the old war were
as ready to shoulder their muskets to protect themselves against the
tyranny of the King as against the incursions of their Canadian and
Indian neighbors. They knew something, too, of the soldiers who would be
sent to subdue them, and what they had seen did not give them much
reason to be afraid. They knew how hard it was for an invading army,
thousands of miles away from home, marching through a thinly-settled
country that was filled with enemies, to protect itself from those
incessant and harassing attacks that wear out its strength and destroy
little by little all its confidence and pluck. They knew that these
gayly-dressed redcoats, who made war according to rule, would find a new
kind of work before them among the wooded hills and valleys of America,
where every patriot was fighting for his own homestead, where every
farmer was a woodsman, and where every woodsman was a crack shot. When
that quiet but observant young Virginian, Major Washington, went out
with Braddock on his expedition against Fort Duquesne, and saw how the
gallant Colonel of the Guards insisted blindly upon following in the
backwoods his Old World tactics, and how easily his regulars were
defeated in consequence, he learned something that he never afterward
forgot; for neither Howe nor Clinton nor Earl Cornwallis himself was the
man to teach him a new lesson.
But all this was fighting on land. At sea, the colonists had had no such
training. The mother country, with her great fleets, had needed no help
from them in her sea-fights, and indeed was rather jealous of any
attempts that they might make toward a colonial navy. The colonists in
the old wars had fitted out a few privateers that harried the enemy's
commerce, but real naval warfare was wholly unknown to them. They had
had no ships-of-war of their own to serve in, and such of them as had
been admitted into the Royal Navy under the King's commission remained
in it almost to a man.
On the ocean, therefore, the colonists were badly off, for Great Britain
was here the worst enemy they could have. Her wooden walls had always
been her chief reliance, and from the days when Drake and Howard and
Raleigh defeated the Great Armada of Spain, they had asserted and
maintained British supremacy at sea. During this long period of two
hundred years the names of England's great naval captains had been a
terror to all her enemies. There was Robert Blake, who beat off the
Dutch, when Tromp sailed across the channel with a broom at his masthead
as a sign that he would sweep the English from the seas. There were Sir
Cloudesley Shovel and Sir George Rooke, who worsted the French in the
great battle of Cape La Hogue; there was the doughty old Benbow, who,
deserted by his captains, with his single ship kept at bay the squadron
of M. Ducasse in the West Indies; there was Boscawen, who captured the
fortress at Louisburg; Hawke and Anson, and finally Rodney and Howe,
already famous, and destined to become yet more so in the war that was
just begun.
The fleets that these famous admirals led into action were composed of
line-of-battle ships,--immense structures, with two, three, or even four
gun-decks, some of them carrying as many as one hundred guns, and the
smallest of them rated at sixty-four. After these came the frigates,
which had only one gun-deck, but which carried a battery on the
spar-deck also. These were not thought of sufficient strength to be
really counted as a part of the fighting force, although the largest
size, the 50-gun frigates, were sometimes taken into the line of battle.
But generally they served as scouts or outposts for the great fleets, or
they cruised by twos and threes in light squadrons, or even singly, to
attack privateers or unarmed merchantmen, or to make a raid on
unprotected coasts and seaports, or to carry orders to the different
stations. For all these uses they were of great service, being generally
faster than the line-of-battle ships, and yet carrying guns enough to
make them formidable to all the lesser craft. After the frigates came
the sloops-of-war, ship-sloops, and brig-sloops, as the English called
them; not the little boats with one mast that we are accustomed to call
sloops, but square-rigged vessels with three or two masts, as the case
might be, and carrying twenty guns or so. With all these three classes
of vessels the British were well supplied, and the larger ships carried
what at that day were heavy guns, 18-pounders and 24-pounders. In 1775,
when the war broke out, the Royal Navy numbered one hundred
line-of-battle ships, one hundred and fifty frigates, and three hundred
of the smaller vessels, and before the war ended it had two hundred and
fifty thousand seamen in its service.
The colonies, on the other hand, began the struggle without a single
armed vessel afloat. They had merchantmen which they could fit out as
privateers to cruise against the British merchantmen, but they had
nothing that could stand up against a ship-of-war. Even in guns they
were sadly deficient; for though there were scattered here and there in
the colonies a few 12-pounders and 9-pounders, they had to depend
largely upon sixes and fours, which were not much better than popguns;
while of eighteens and twenty-fours they had scarcely any for naval use.
Sailors they had, to be sure, all along the coast from New England down;
and especially in the northern part there were numbers of bold and hardy
men who had followed the sea since they were boys, some in
fishing-smacks that made long voyages to the Banks, some in coasters,
and some in the large merchant-ships that traded at ports beyond the
sea. But of what use are sailors without ships or guns? Besides, as the
Continental Navy was slow in forming, many of the best men went into the
army, which promised an easier life, or into the privateer service,
which held out greater prospects of reward; and when the navy finally
got to work, it was very hard to man the vessels.
[Illustration: "BOLD AND HARDY MEN WHO HAD FOLLOWED THE SEA SINCE THEY
WERE BOYS."]
In spite of all these discouragements, the leaders in the country boldly
resolved that they would face Great Britain on the sea as well as on the
land. They bought or built their little ships, fitted them out with guns
and stores that were partly captured from the British, manned them with
crews from the sturdy mariners along the coast, and sent them forth to
war upon the enemy as best they might,--by capturing his transports and
storeships, by fighting his smaller cruisers when they could be found
alone, and sometimes even by daring raids upon his very coasts. Their
officers were volunteers from the merchant service; and though hardly
any had ever served in ships-of-war, there were some among them whose
name and fame have lived to our own day, and will live forever,--Biddle
and Manley, Paul Jones and Conyngham, Barry and Barney, and Wickes and
Dale,--the first men to show that American naval officers can hold their
own against any others in the world.
* * * * *
The beginnings of the Continental Navy were made by Washington. When on
July 3, 1775, he took command of the army under the old elm-tree at
Cambridge in Massachusetts, he had a discouraging task before him. Not
only was it necessary for him to organize the troops and train them in
the art of war, but they had to be supplied with arms and ammunition and
all kinds of equipments. Not only was there a scarcity of money to buy
these things, but the things themselves were hardly to be got in the
colonies either for love or money. At the battle of Bunker Hill the
patriots had retired, not because they were beaten, but because their
ammunition was exhausted. During the whole summer Washington was writing
to the governors of the neighboring colonies, entreating them to send
him a little powder and lead. "No quantity," he said, "however small, is
beneath notice."
All this time the British, securely established in Boston, were
receiving supplies of all kinds from England. Though they were three
thousand miles away from home, they could get what they needed with more
certainty than the colonists, who were fighting in their own country: of
such importance is it in war to have the control of the sea. Washington
himself saw this, and he determined to dispute the control with the
enemy by sending out little vessels, just strong enough to attack the
transports and storeships coming to Boston. So he despatched to the
north shore, as it is called, to Beverly and Salem and Marblehead, two
of his trusted officers, Colonel John Glover of Marblehead, and Stephen
Moylan, the Muster-master-general of the army, to procure and fit out
the vessels. Late in October the first two schooners got to sea, the
"Lynch" and "Franklin," under Captain Broughton, who sailed for the Gulf
of St. Lawrence to intercept ships bound for Quebec. Ten days later
Moylan and Glover, by dint of hard work, got off two more of these
diminutive cruisers,--the "Lee," under Captain John Manley, and the
"Warren," under Captain Adams of the New Hampshire troops. These were
also schooners, and carried each four 4-pounders and ten
swivels,--little guns throwing a half-pound bullet mounted on pivots on
the gunwales, just as gatlings are mounted to-day. Each had fifty men,
most of whom were drafted from the army; but there was hardly any
ammunition to spare for them, and it went against the grain to give
them twenty rounds for each gun, which was all they carried.
At Plymouth, also, Washington had his small navy-yard, but it gave him
more trouble than it was worth. The schooner "Harrison," under Captain
Coit of Connecticut, was here, though she was old and weak; and a larger
ship, the "Washington." The "Washington" was a fine brigantine, and she
mounted ten carriage guns which had been brought by boats and wagons
from Bristol. But her captain, Martindale, was too ambitious, and wished
his ship to have all the equipments of a real man-of-war. The general
and his aides, Reed and Moylan, who had the work in charge, were sorely
tried by all this useless preparation, which delayed the vessel during
the precious weeks of autumn, when she should have been at sea. "Shall
we ever hear," wrote Moylan in the middle of November, "of Captain
Martindale's departure?" For he knew that the captain's business was to
seize the English stores, and to let ships-of-war alone. Coit's
schooner, also, the "Harrison," was delayed in port, and the sailors
were troublesome. "They are soured by the severity of the season," wrote
the agent, "and are longing for the leeks and onions of Connecticut." By
the third week in November the two ships got out; but the brigantine was
presently captured by an enemy's frigate, which showed that the
general's apprehensions had been right from the beginning. So the navy,
especially the Plymouth fleet, was a source of much anxiety and
discouragement to him during the month of November.
But suddenly the tide turned, for on the 29th of that month the news
came from Cape Ann that the "Lee" was in, and that Manley had captured
the brigantine "Nancy," loaded with all kinds of military stores. We
can fancy how the general must have felt as he read the invoice of her
stores: two thousand muskets and bayonets, thirty-one tons of
musket-shot, three thousand round shot for 12-pounders, eight thousand
fuzes, one hundred and fifty carcasses,--great frames for combustibles
to set buildings on fire,--a 13-inch mortar, two 6-pounders, and several
barrels of powder, besides great quantities of other valuable stores. No
wonder he sent Colonel Glover and Mr. Palfrey in hot haste to the Cape
to raise the minute-men from all the neighboring towns and land the
stores, and bring them under escort to headquarters! And the same day he
wrote to the President of Congress to tell him of Manley's fine capture,
and said: "I sincerely congratulate you, sir, on this great acquisition;
it more than repays all that has been spent in fitting out the
squadron."
Manley was off to sea again in a day or two, and a week later he
captured three more vessels, the cargoes of which were sold, some of
them bringing a high price. For these services Manley was placed by
Congress on the list of Continental captains, and put in command of a
frigate. His schooner, the "Lee," was given to Captain Waters, who
cruised in her for several months, capturing a number of transports with
troops on board.
The other vessels also took their share of prizes, even the leaky old
"Harrison" bringing in a sloop and a schooner. Broughton's ships, the
"Lynch" and the "Franklin," seized several vessels that were supposed to
belong to Tories, but most of these were released. After their return
the "Franklin" was given to James Mugford, a daring Marblehead captain.
This was in the spring after the British had evacuated Boston, but
ships laden with supplies were still coming to America. One of these,
the "Hope," of six guns, fell in with Mugford near Boston, and he
determined to attack her, though an English squadron was in sight not
many miles away. He had just boarded her, when the English captain
ordered his men to cut the topsail-halliards, so that the ship would be
delayed until the squadron could come up. But Mugford roared out that
any man who carried out the order would suffer instant death, and no one
dared to move. The prize had fifteen hundred barrels of powder in her
hold, and it was almost hopeless to try to get her into the harbor by
the usual channel in the face of the enemy's fleet. But just then the
"Lee" came up, and Captain Waters, who knew every shoal and winding
passage in Boston harbor, told Mugford he would carry her in through
Shirley Gut, a narrow channel where none of the English ships would dare
to follow her. He made good his promise; for though the "Hope" did run
ashore on Handkerchief Shoal, he got her off, and brought her with her
precious cargo safely into Boston.
[Illustration: "HE SENT COLONEL GLOVER AND MR. PALFREY IN HOT HASTE TO
RAISE THE MINUTE-MEN."]
Poor Mugford did not long survive his exploit; for, leaving port a few
days later by this same Shirley Gut, he too grounded, and while he was
lying hard and fast, the boats from the enemy's fleet put off to capture
him. There were three times as many men as Mugford had on board the
"Franklin;" but he gave them a warm reception with his muskets and such
guns as he could bring to bear. They came alongside and prepared to
board; but as soon as any of them put their hands upon the rail, the
crew hacked them off with cutlasses. Mugford himself was in the hottest
of it, and as he leaned over the gunwale a bullet struck him in the
breast. He called his first lieutenant and said to him, "I am a dead
man: do not give up the vessel; you will be able to beat them off." And
so he died; but the enemy were driven back, with two of their boats
lost, and the ship was saved.
While General Washington was making his beginning of a Continental navy
about Boston, aided by the Massachusetts people, the other colonies were
working by themselves in the same direction. In Long Island Sound, on
the Hudson River, in the Delaware and Chesapeake bays, and along the
inlets of the southern coast, flotillas were fitted out to protect the
towns and to prey upon the enemy's commerce. In October, 1775, the
Continental Congress, which was then in session at Philadelphia,
following the example of Washington, decided to have a navy for the
general service of the colonies. With this early movement Stephen
Hopkins, a delegate from Rhode Island, had much to do; for Narragansett
Bay with its thriving farms and plantations offered a tempting prize to
the British raiders, whom the little colony would find it hard to keep
off. There were others, too, who took a deep interest in the
project,--above all John Adams, and Silas Deane of Connecticut, and
Robert Morris of Pennsylvania. Through their efforts a beginning was
made by purchasing two brigs, the "Lexington" and "Providence." These
were followed by two larger vessels, the "Alfred" and "Columbus,"
carrying each about twenty 9-pounders. Then two more brigs were bought,
the "Andrew Doria" and the "Cabot," which like Washington's schooners
carried only 4-pounders, though they had more of them. The "Lexington"
went to sea alone, but the others were assembled at Philadelphia in
December, ready to start out as the first Continental squadron.
It was not an easy thing to select a commander for the new squadron, for
there was hardly a man in the colonies who had seen any naval service.
Young Nicholas Biddle, of Philadelphia, had been a midshipman in the
Royal Navy, and had resigned his post to fight for his country; but he
was thought to be too young, though he had seen more real service than
his fellow officers. Finally, Hopkins's brother, Esek Hopkins, an old
Rhode Island sea-captain who had been made a brigadier-general, was
chosen to command the force. His son John was made captain of one of the
ships, and his cousin Abraham Whipple of another, while Hazard, who was
also a Rhode Islander, was assigned to the "Providence." Biddle, who, as
it turned out, was the best of them all, was given the little brig
"Doria." From an obscure place in Virginia, far away in the country,
came a letter from a young Scotchman named Paul Jones, who had followed
the sea from his boyhood but had finally settled in America, asking them
that he might have a commission. Although no one knew much of him, he
was offered one of the smaller brigs; but he preferred to go at first as
a lieutenant, and he was placed on board the "Alfred," the commodore's
flagship.
The squadron was fitted out to cruise upon the southern coast; but it
was frozen up for six weeks in Delaware Bay, and when it sailed in
February, 1776, it made first for the Bahama Islands. It came to anchor
off Abaco, the northernmost of the islands. Here the commodore learned
that there was a fort, with many guns and a great quantity of powder,
but defended only by a feeble garrison, at New Providence, on the
Island of Nassau, the same place which afterward gained such fame during
the Rebellion as the refuge of the blockade-runners. Commodore Hopkins
resolved to attempt its capture, but advancing incautiously with his
whole fleet, gave a timely warning to the inhabitants; and the governor,
who till that moment had not dreamed of the near approach of an enemy,
succeeded in getting his powder to a place of safety. The marines were
landed and marched to the fort, which they captured with little
difficulty. The guns were taken, as well as all the stores except the
powder, and the governor was carried off a prisoner.
The squadron had now accomplished such results that Hopkins thought it
best to defer his operations on the southern coast, and made sail for
home. He arrived safely in New London, meeting only one of the enemy's
ships on the way, with which he had a battle; but neither side could
claim the victory. The captured guns were sent off to the points where
they were needed most, and Commodore Hopkins went to Philadelphia. But
Congress was not very well satisfied with him, especially the Southern
delegates, who had been promised protection for their shores. The old
commodore, too, was fussy and impatient, and as he stayed on in
Philadelphia, everybody began to grow tired of him; and finally Congress
passed a resolution in which they announced to him, rather harshly
perhaps, that they had no further use for his services. No doubt he had
meant well; but he was too old to be the leader of the new Continental
Navy, and this is the last we shall hear of him.
Before the squadron started on its cruise Congress had undertaken more
ambitious measures. Thirteen frigates were ordered to be built, and
different places were selected where the work should be done, so that
whatever part of the country the British might overrun, some of the new
ships might be finished and sent out. Thus the "Raleigh" was built at
Portsmouth, the "Hancock" and "Boston" in Massachusetts, the "Warren"
and "Providence" in Rhode Island, the "Trumbull" in Connecticut, and the
"Virginia" at Baltimore. Of the other six, two were begun at
Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson, and four at Philadelphia; but the only one
of the six that got to sea was the "Randolph," of Philadelphia, the
others being destroyed at one time or another to prevent their falling
into the hands of the enemy. More vessels were built later, and a few
were bought in Europe; but among them all there were no line-of-battle
ships, and even for frigates they were not very large or strong. But
they were the best that the colonies could get; there was not money
enough to build great fleets, and there were not guns enough to arm
them. Few and small as they were, they performed their part, and no
small part it was, in showing the King and the Parliament that the
colonies were thoroughly in earnest in the struggle upon which they had
entered, and that they would spare no labor, and would encounter any
danger, in order to secure their independence.
CHAPTER II.
BIDDLE AND THE "RANDOLPH."
There were two men in Hopkins's squadron who far excelled all the others
in those qualities of energy, courage, and intelligence that are most
required in a naval officer. These were Biddle, the captain of the
"Andrew Doria," and Paul Jones, the lieutenant of the "Alfred." Jones
was at this time twenty-eight years old; the son of a Scotch gardener,
he was born and brought up on the shores of the Solway Frith. Across the
Frith lay the prosperous seaport of Whitehaven; and the boy when twelve
years old was apprenticed to a merchant of the place, who traded with
America, and his first voyage had been to Virginia. At a later time he
had served in a slaver; but leaving this distasteful occupation, he
became the master of a ship in the West India trade, and finally had
drifted to Virginia, where he had made his home two years before the
outbreak of the war.
After the squadron returned to New London, Jones was given command of
the brig "Providence," and in August he set off on a cruise to the
eastward. His ship was small, but she was smart and handy, and Jones was
the man to make her do her best. Presently he fell in with two frigates
of the enemy; but he got away from them after an exciting chase. A few
days afterward, while his ship was hove to, and his crew were fishing,
another English frigate came up,--the "Milford." Hastily calling his men
to their stations, he started off to try his speed with the new-comer,
for she was far too strong for him to attack or even to resist. He soon
found that he could outsail her, which was just as good; and shortening
sail, he allowed the "Milford" to come up a little. Then he started
ahead again, and so continued backing and filling, just to tease her, as
it were. The frigate turned and gave him a broadside which fell short,
and which he answered in derision by ordering a marine to fire a musket.
Finally he left the "Milford" and went on his way to the fishing
settlements in the eastern provinces, capturing the enemy's merchantmen
right and left, wherever he could find them. He raided the harbor of
Canso, to the great alarm of the inhabitants, and broke up the fishery.
Then he crossed over to Île Madame, where he destroyed the shipping. By
this time his ship was so loaded down with prisoners that he was obliged
to put about for home, where he arrived safely in October, having been
out six weeks and taken sixteen prizes.
After a month in port Jones started on a second cruise. This time he
took with him the "Providence" and also the "Alfred,"--the ship of which
he had been first lieutenant on the expedition to Nassau. Another raid
was made on Canso, and another batch of prizes was captured. One of
these, the "Mellish," had a cargo of clothing which was intended for the
enemy's troops, but which was needed even more by our own army, at this
time just beginning its winter campaign. When he came home from this
second cruise, Jones thought he had shown by what he had done that he
deserved a better ship, and Congress thought so too; and after some
little delay he was appointed to the new sloop-of-war "Ranger," which
was building at Portsmouth, and in which during the following year he
entered upon a new and larger field of operations.
[Illustration: NICHOLAS BIDDLE.]
About the time that Jones took command of the "Providence," his
companion in the squadron, Nicholas Biddle, was sent out in the brig
"Doria" on a cruise to the Banks. Biddle was at this time twenty-five
years old. He was born in Philadelphia, and had begun life as a sailor
before the mast at the age of fourteen. On his second voyage he was
wrecked in the West Indies, and narrowly escaped with his life.
Afterward he went to London, and in 1770, when a war was threatened
between Great Britain and Spain, he obtained an appointment as
midshipman in the Royal Navy under Captain Stirling. War did not break
out, however, and young Biddle joined the exploring expedition under
Commodore Phipps, which sought to reach the North Pole by the way of
Spitzbergen. On the same expedition was another youngster, by name
Horatio Nelson, who was destined afterward to lead the English fleet to
victory at the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar. After the return of
Phipps's ships, Biddle left the navy and came home to take his part in
the war that was now beginning. His first commission, from the Committee
of Safety in Philadelphia, was signed by its president, Benjamin
Franklin, and appointed him "Captain of the Provincial Armed Boat called
the 'Franklin,' fitted out for the protection of the Province of
Pennsylvania, and the Commerce of the River Delaware against all hostile
enterprises, and for the defence of American Liberty." But when Congress
formed its first squadron, under Commodore Hopkins, he was transferred
to the Continental Navy. The "Doria," which Biddle commanded on the
expedition to Nassau, and which he was now to take on her first
independent cruise, carried an armament of fourteen 4-pounders, which,
as I have said, were little better than popguns, and of course unfit for
fighting with a ship-of-war. Her crew numbered one hundred men. On her
way out, the "Doria" made three prizes. Off Newfoundland she captured
two transports, with four hundred troops on board. Any ordinary man
would have found it a difficult task to dispose of so many prizes and
prisoners; but Biddle had served in the navy, and he knew what
discipline meant. Manning the captured ships from his crew, he filled
their places on board the "Doria" with prisoners, and started to return
home. On the way back, six more vessels were taken. These were manned in
the same way, by stripping the brig of her sailors and taking the best
of the prisoners to do their work. Finally the "Doria" arrived at
Philadelphia, with all her prisoners and with only five men left of her
original crew. It would have been hard to find another man in the
service, even if it were Paul Jones himself, who could have kept in
check such a ship's company as that. One of the prizes was wrecked, and
another recaptured, but the rest got safely into port.
Congress now began to realize that this young fellow of five-and-twenty
was one of the very best officers in its employ; and indeed if he had
been made at the start the commander-in-chief of our forces afloat,
instead of an old weather-beaten merchant captain like Hopkins, his
experience and skill and impetuous bravery would beyond a doubt have
raised the navy to the highest point of excellence of which its scanty
resources were capable. He was appointed to command the "Randolph,"
which had lately been launched at Philadelphia. She was one of the best
of the new ships, but she had been hurriedly built,--too hurriedly, as
was shown on her first cruise; for no sooner had Biddle got out of sight
of land than a gale sprang up, and all her masts went by the board. To
add to his difficulties, he discovered a mutinous spirit in his crew,
several of whom were prisoners who had volunteered for the cruise. This
was promptly checked, for the captain, as we have seen, was not a man to
allow insubordination; and after rigging jury-masts he carried the ship
safely into Charleston. Here she was refitted, and from here she again
started on a cruise. She had been out only a few days when she captured
the "True Briton," a ship of twenty guns, and three West Indiamen that
formed her convoy. The captain of the "True Briton" had been looking
for the "Randolph,"--at least so he said,--and as the latter approached
him, he received her with a warm fire; but the "Randolph" only waited
till she got within pistol-shot, when she fired a single gun, and the
English captain incontinently struck his colors.
Returning once more to Charleston with her prizes, the "Randolph"
remained there for some time blockaded by the enemy's squadron. At last
the State of South Carolina fitted out a force of vessels to raise the
blockade and cruise with the "Randolph" under Biddle's command. Contrary
winds and the want of a high tide detained them for some time in
Rebellion Roads, and when they got over the bar the enemy had
disappeared; so they set out in quest of adventures.
The squadron had cruised for more than a month in the Atlantic with no
incident worthy of note, when on the 7th of March, 1778, being then to
the eastward of Barbadoes, at one o' clock in the afternoon a large ship
was seen in the distance, gradually approaching. By three o'clock she
had come near enough for Biddle to make out that she was a
ship-of-the-line. Knowing that the stranger must be an Englishman,--she
proved to be the "Yarmouth," of sixty-four guns,--and knowing too that
the "Randolph," even with the support of the smaller ships, was no match
for her powerful battery, he signalled to the fleet to make sail. All
the ships obeyed except the "General Moultrie," which obstinately
refused to leave her place, and remained hove to, giving no sign of
moving. This blundering conduct of the "Moultrie's" captain left Biddle
no choice but to abandon his consort or to remain and fight what seemed
to be a hopeless battle. He boldly chose the latter course; and as the
"Yarmouth" ranged up on his weather quarter, he hoisted the American
flag and opened on her with a succession of furious broadsides, giving
four to the enemy's one, and inflicting dangerous wounds upon her sails
and rigging. A few minutes after the action began, Biddle received a
shot in the thigh. As his people, alarmed, gathered around him, he
raised himself up, telling them it was only a slight touch, and calling
for a chair seated himself on the quarter-deck, where the surgeon came
to dress his wound. Here he was vigorously directing the course of the
battle, and in spite of the disparity between the two ships he was
gradually getting the advantage, when suddenly, without a moment's
warning, the magazine of the "Randolph" blew up, scattering spars, hull,
guns, officers, and men in a mass of fragments over the waters.
None ever knew how the accident happened. The other ships, seeing the
disaster, made off as fast as they could; but the "Yarmouth" was too
much disabled to follow them, and they made good their escape. Five days
after the action the English ship, still cruising about the spot, came
upon a floating piece of the "Randolph's" wreck, to which four of her
crew were still clinging. They had been drifting in this way for four
days with no sustenance except the rain-water which they had managed to
collect. These were all the survivors of that fatal battle,--a battle
which lost us not only a fine frigate, but, what was far worse, one of
our best and most gallant officers.
CHAPTER III.
WAR ON THE ENEMY'S COAST.
We have seen how the beginning of naval enterprise made by Washington in
the summer of 1775 was taken up and borne along by the Continental
Congress at Philadelphia, until little by little it had obtained a force
at sea that was able to inflict serious loss upon the enemy. But a field
for operations was now to be found in a new quarter; and happily for
America, their direction was in the hands of its wisest and most
far-sighted statesman. On the 7th of December, 1776, the United States
brig-of-war "Reprisal" arrived at Nantes with Benjamin Franklin on board
as a passenger, who had come over with a letter from Congress, naming
him a commissioner to treat with France. The "Reprisal" was commanded by
Capt. Lambert Wickes, a gallant naval officer who had been cruising
during the summer before in the West Indies, where he had shown himself
worthy of the people's trust. And indeed it was a heavy responsibility
that rested with him on this voyage across the Atlantic; for had his
ship with its passenger been captured, it is hard to say what troubles
would have come upon the country, or how the Revolution would have held
its own during the next five years. But Franklin was carried safely to
his destination; and not only that, but two English brigs laden with
cargoes of wine were captured by the "Reprisal" on the voyage and came
with her into port. It was in this way that Franklin's mind was turned
to the benefits which his country might reap from ocean warfare,--above
all, in the seas which English commerce most frequented,--and after he
arrived in Paris he lost no time in putting in practice what he had
learned.
At this early period, although the King of France was indifferent, if
not hostile, to the American cause, the ministers and people warmly
favored it. The friendly feeling was strengthened by Franklin's coming,
and his winning manners, simple and frank, but full of dignity, made him
a favorite with all, both high and low. Persuaded thus by their own
desires, and by Franklin's strong but gentle influence, they went just
as far in their efforts to aid the Americans as they possibly could
without declaring open war against England. Large sums of money were
given; the departure of ships laden with arms and munitions of war was
winked at; and when Lord Stormont, the English ambassador, complained of
the admission of the "Reprisal" and her prizes into French ports, the
Frenchmen gave evasive answers, and the vessels under one pretext or
another were allowed to stay. Wickes even made a little roving cruise in
the Bay of Biscay, from which he brought in as trophies three more
prizes. To satisfy the English protests, he was forbidden to sell his
prizes in the ports; but he took them just outside the harbor, where he
held mock sales, and thus disposed of all of them. These little
subterfuges were continued until the conclusion of the treaty, which
came about in the following year.
In the spring after Wickes arrived, the brig "Lexington" came out, under
Captain Johnston. She was the first vessel that had been purchased by
the Continental Congress, and she had already done good service on the
American coast. Johnston had with him as lieutenant one of the best and
bravest of the Revolutionary officers, Richard Dale. Dale was at this
time twenty years of age. Eight years before he had first gone to sea
from his home in Virginia, and already since the beginning of the war he
had been twice a prisoner; but the strangest part of his career was yet
to come.
Franklin now thought it would be wise to join together the "Reprisal"
and the "Lexington" and the little 10-gun cutter "Dolphin" in a squadron
under the command of Wickes, who was to make a dash around the coast of
Ireland and capture or destroy whatever he might find. The ships sailed
from Nantes in June, and in August they came back successful from their
perilous enterprise. They had captured fourteen prizes. Approaching the
French coast on their return, they were discovered and chased by an
English line-of-battle ship of seventy-four guns; but by separating they
succeeded in making good their escape, though the "Reprisal" barely
managed to get into port in time.
This expedition made so great a commotion that the French Government
found itself obliged to notice it, and ordered the ships to leave the
territory. Accordingly they set sail on the voyage home; but unhappily
the "Reprisal," upon reaching the Banks of Newfoundland, foundered in a
gale, and only one of the crew was saved. The "Lexington," soon after
starting, fell in with the English cutter "Alert" in the Bay of Biscay.
Both ships fought gallantly for two hours; but at length the
"Lexington," which was short of ammunition, had used up nearly all her
powder and shot and made sail to get away from the enemy. The "Alert"
had been badly cut up aloft in the fight; but she speedily bent new
sails and in a short time overtook her antagonist. Captain Johnston held
out as long as there was any hope, firing now and then a gun, and using
every scrap of iron he could lay his hands on for a missile; but after
he had fired his last charge of powder, and several of his officers had
been killed, to prevent the useless slaughter he surrendered.
The prisoners were carried off to Plymouth, where they were confined in
the Mill Prison. Here the harsh treatment and sufferings they underwent
soon prompted them to devise a means of escape. A hole was dug under the
wall, the officers and men working upon it with their fingers whenever
an opportunity offered, but making slow progress, as they could only
hide the dirt from the excavation by carrying it in their pockets when
they went out for exercise, and scattering it when the sentry's back was
turned. Finally one night, when all was ready, they passed out through
the opening and escaped into the country.
But their troubles had only just begun. The hue and cry was raised, and
parties were sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Separating into twos and
threes, they were barely able to elude pursuit. One night Dale was
concealed under the hay in a barn, when the officers entered it in
search of him. At last he reached London and took passage in a vessel
bound to Dunkirk; but before she had left the Thames she was visited by
a press-gang, and poor Dale was seized, and when they found out who he
was, sent back to prison. The captain, though, got safely off.
This was now the fourth time that Dale had been a prisoner. To punish
him for trying to escape, he was thrown into the black hole--a dungeon
that was only used for the worst offenders--and treated with the utmost
rigor. After a time he was put on his old footing as a prisoner of war;
but he was a reckless youth, and having roused the wrath of the jailers
by singing what they called "rebellious songs," he served another term
in the black hole. At length by some means, which to his dying day he
never would disclose, he obtained the uniform of a British officer, and
in this disguise he walked through the gates in plain sight of the
sentinel. Rendered more cautious by what had befallen him after his
first escape, he laid his plans with care, and at last succeeded in
reaching France, after a year and a half of captivity. He came in good
time; for it was just as he arrived that Paul Jones was setting out on
his great cruise in the "Bon Homme Richard," and Dale was made his first
lieutenant. Here we shall leave him for the present.
About the time that the "Lexington" had come out from America, in the
spring of 1777, the commissioners at Paris, finding that they could not
get more ships in France, because the English made so great an outcry,
bethought themselves that they would send a trusty agent across the
channel to Dover, to see what he could get there. In this way they
purchased secretly a swift English cutter, the "Surprise," and they
appointed to command her Gustavus Conyngham, a bold and adventurous
officer. He started on a cruise in May from Dunkirk, and in a few days
returned with two of the enemy's brigs,--one of them a mail-packet which
he had captured off the coast of Holland. The English ambassador again
protested, and the French Government told Franklin that, though much
against its will, it would be compelled to restore the prizes. It even
went so far as to imprison Conyngham and his crew; but this was only a
make-believe, for they were shortly afterward released.
[Illustration: HE TOUCHED AT A SMALL TOWN IN IRELAND FOR SUPPLIES.]
Unmoved by this event, Franklin immediately procured another cutter, the
"Revenge," and giving Conyngham a new commission, he sent him off from
Dunkirk in charge of her. The second cruise was even more successful
than the first. Conyngham roved about with his little ship as he
pleased, keeping carefully away from the enemy's cruisers, which vainly
sought to catch him, and capturing prizes on all sides. These he
destroyed, or sometimes when he saw his chance sent into seaports on the
Continent. Once during his cruise, being hard pushed for supplies, he
touched at a small town in Ireland and bought them. At another time when
off the English coast, finding his vessel unseaworthy and needing some
repair, he took her into one of the smaller ports and refitted there,
with the help of the inhabitants, without being discovered. Finally,
when so many ships were sent out in pursuit of him that his
cruising-ground became too hot, he made for Ferrol, in Spain, and after
staying there awhile carried his ship safely to America.
The cruises of Wickes and of Conyngham, with their tiny craft, were the
beginning of the great work that was to be taken up on a larger scale in
the next two years by Paul Jones. The enterprise and hardihood of these
bold captains, who carried the war, as it were, to the very threshold of
the enemy's country, were not without results both in England and on the
Continent. They showed foreign nations that the rebels in America were
making war in truest earnest, and that they would leave no honorable
means unused to help them in asserting independence. In England they
spread alarm among the merchants, and the insurers of English ships
demanded double rates; while London traders, rather than run the risk of
losing their goods by shipping them in their own vessels, were induced
to employ their foreign rivals to carry cargoes for them,--a thing which
before this time had been almost unheard of.
CHAPTER IV.
PAUL JONES'S CRUISES.
Sometime in the summer of 1777 Paul Jones was ordered to command the
sloop-of-war "Ranger," at that time nearly completed at Portsmouth. The
officers were detailed for their ships by resolution of Congress; and
the same resolution that gave Jones his command, on the 14th day of
June, is memorable as the first adoption of the flag of thirteen stars
and stripes which was carried by Jones's ship, and which ever since has
been the national emblem. The young captain had hard work before him to
get his ship ready for sea; but at last everything was in order, and on
the 1st of November he set sail for France. He had laid down for himself
a clear plan of action. He knew that England's navy was too powerful to
be met on the sea, but that all along the English coast were unprotected
seaports where the people were not looking for attack, and where a sharp
and sudden blow would take them off their guard. He had hopes, too, that
the commissioners in Paris would give him a larger ship,--perhaps two or
three of them,--and he carried with him a letter from the President of
Congress asking them to aid his enterprise. But in this he was
disappointed. When he arrived at Nantes he found that the "Indien," a
fine frigate that Franklin was having built at Amsterdam, was to be
presented to the King of France, whose friendship the commissioners were
anxious to obtain, that by this means they might bring about an alliance
against Great Britain. So after waiting awhile he thought it well to
lose no more time, and on the 10th of April he started with the "Ranger"
for a cruise in the Irish Sea.
The undertaking was full of danger. There was no knowing how large a
force of ships the enemy might have stationed to guard the coast, for
the cruises of Wickes and Conyngham had given the alarm, and the British
might have known that their own waters were no longer safe. Besides,
Paul Jones was a Scotchman who had lived only two years in America,
though he had given himself heart and soul to his new country's cause,
and if captured, especially near Kirkcudbright or Whitehaven, where many
people knew him well, he ran a good chance of being hanged as a pirate
and a traitor. But Jones was a man who cared nothing about danger, and a
great deal about success and the rewards which it brings. He was never
deterred for a moment by the risk he was running, and if he thought
about it at all, he decided that the obstinate belief of the British in
their own invincibility would lead them to neglect preparations; and for
the rest he only asked to be allowed to take his chances. In this he
proved to be right; for although the "Ranger" had been lying for months
at a French port, preparing for her expedition, the narrow seas had been
left with no protection except the "Drake,"--a sloop of the "Ranger's"
size,--which lay snugly at anchor in the harbor of Carrickfergus.
On the fourth day out from Brest, in St. George's Channel, the "Ranger"
made her first capture of a brigantine, which was burned on the spot.
Three days afterward, as Jones was nearing Dublin, he took a London ship
bound for that port, which he manned and sent in to Brest. Next day he
moved over toward Whitehaven, whose port, crowded with shipping, he had
known so well as a boy, and attempted to approach the harbor, so that
his boats might go in and destroy the vessels. The enemy had burned and
destroyed property wherever they could on the American coast, and it
seemed to Jones that the best way to stop them was to do the like on
theirs. But the wind began to blow fiercely toward the land, and the
"Ranger" turned her head seaward again, to avoid the dangers of a lee
shore. In the next two days she captured a schooner and a sloop, which
were sunk one after the other. This was small game for Jones; and
learning from a fishing-boat just where the "Drake" was moored at
Carrickfergus, he determined to run in and surprise her in the night.
All was made ready. The decks were cleared for action, the lights were
put out, the guns concealed, the grapnels at hand to hook on to the
enemy's ship, and the boarders standing by with pikes and cutlasses to
dash over the side. The "Drake" was lying with her head pointing
seaward, and Jones's plan was to place himself athwart her cable and
bring up on her bow. The "Ranger" came in silently but swiftly, with a
captured fisherman to pilot her, and so approached the enemy. The order
was given to "let go the anchor;" but either it was not quickly obeyed
or the anchor hung from the jamming of the hawser, and the "Ranger" shot
by in the darkness. It was of no use to try again, for a second attempt
to get alongside would arouse suspicion; so Jones cut his cable and ran
out, leaving his anchor in the bay behind him.
On the next night he made another trial at Whitehaven, but this too was
a failure. The wind was so light that the ship could not come close in
until much of the night had worn away, and the boats, with Jones and
thirty of his men, only reached the outer pier at daybreak. One party,
under Lieutenant Wallingford, was sent to the north basin, and another
to the south, to burn the ships there; while Jones, with a handful of
men, made his way into the fort, surprised the sentries, captured the
little garrisons and spiked the guns, so that his retreat might be
secure. When he returned to where the ships were lying, expecting to see
them in a blaze, he was distressed to find that his men had let their
candles burn away, and there was nothing left to kindle the fire. At
last one of the men brought a light from a house near by; but by this
time the people of the town had roused themselves, and began to move
about the streets and to gather near the wharves. A fire started in one
ship was helped on by a tar-barrel; and while his men were fanning it
into a blaze, Jones stood before them on the wharf and kept the enemy
away. But angry crowds were now collecting, and it was time to be off;
so the captain manned his boats in haste, and embarking, pulled away to
his ship, leaving the frightened inhabitants to wonder what this strange
attack at their very doors could mean.
The "Ranger" now ran over to the Scotch coast, and was next seen off St.
Mary's Isle, the country-seat of the Earl of Selkirk. Jones knew the
spot, and he had formed the plan of landing with a boat's crew and
carrying off the Earl, whom he meant to keep as a hostage in order that
the prisoners taken by the English might have better treatment. But the
Earl was not at home, and the men grumbled at having only their trouble
for their pains. To quiet them, Jones told the party that they could go
back and demand the silver plate that was in the house. The Lady
Selkirk, who, looking from the window of her house, had seen the men as
they came on shore, had felt no alarm, thinking that they were revenue
officers, or perhaps a press-gang; but she was undeceived when they came
back to the house, and she hurriedly gave them the silver tea-service,
just as it was, on the breakfast-table. So they carried it away. It was
a shameful thing to do, only worthy of a tramp or a marauder, and Jones
was heartily sorry for it afterward; so much so, that at the sale of the
prizes he bought in all the Earl's plate with his own prize-money, and
sent it safely back to Lady Selkirk.
The last two exploits of the "Ranger" had alarmed the whole
country-side; and as she came once more in sight of the coast of the
three kingdoms, beacon-fires could be seen burning on every headland.
The "Drake," too, had caught the alarm, and came out from Carrickfergus
to capture the bold American. She was looking for an encounter, and
Jones had no wish to disappoint her. As the enemy came out, the "Ranger"
was kept stern on, which caused her to be mistaken for a merchantman,
and a boat put off from the "Drake" to gain some information. The boat's
crew gained more than they bargained for, for they were no sooner
alongside than the "Ranger" took them on board. Then, after drawing away
for a while from the land, she waited for her adversary to come up.
There was no doubt now about her character, and the two ships fired
their broadsides as soon as they had come within range. It was a running
fight, broadside to broadside, and the two enemies were fairly matched.
But the "Ranger's" men were better at the guns, and their steady fire
soon began to tell, as the people who lined the shores could see to
their dismay. The shots rained thick and fast upon the "Drake," sweeping
her decks, wounding her sides, and cutting up her rigging. Her ties were
shot away and the fore and main top-sail yards fell upon the caps. The
jib hung in the water ahead and the ensign drooped astern. Presently the
captain received a shot in the head, and soon afterward the first
lieutenant fell, mortally wounded; finally, after an hour of hot
fighting, the "Drake" surrendered. On board the "Ranger" poor
Wallingford was killed, but Jones had not been touched. Securing his
prisoners and his prize, on board of which he found the anchor which had
been left in Carrickfergus harbor, and which the "Drake" had fished up
for herself, he made sail with the two ships around the north of
Ireland. There was little time to be lost, for the enemy would soon have
a squadron in pursuit of him. Off he went, and made his passage safely
around the Irish coast, and on the 8th of May the "Ranger" and the
"Drake" arrived at Brest, just four weeks after Jones had started.
[Illustration: THE "DRAKE" SURRENDERS TO THE "RANGER."]
With the great name that Jones had gained from his successful cruise, he
now thought, and with reason, that his friends in France would bestir
themselves to find for him a suitable command. He went to Paris, and
received such fair promises from those in power, that he decided to send
home the "Ranger" and wait abroad for the fine new ship which he
expected to command. As the French had now openly concluded an
alliance, they were ready to take part in any enterprise against the
common enemy but they wanted to use their ships for their own officers,
and the commissioners had no money to build ships on their own account.
Jones went back to Brest, determined to bide his time, and meanwhile to
leave no stone unturned in his efforts to secure a vessel. From Brest he
wrote most pressing and incessant letters to every one in Paris who was
likely to advance his scheme,--to Franklin, to M. de Sartine, the
Minister of Marine, to the Prince of Nassau, and to Chaumont, a French
official who had devoted much of his time and money to helping the
American cause.
About this time Lafayette came over to France in a splendid new frigate,
the finest ship in the American Navy, which had been named the
"Alliance," to show how much the Americans valued their French friends.
For the same reason the command of the "Alliance" had been given to
Pierre Landais, a French merchant-captain. This was a serious mistake,
as it was no great compliment to France, and Landais was as poor an
officer as could have been selected. It was now proposed that a descent
should be made on the English coast, with Lafayette in command of the
land forces and Jones as the leader of the fleet, which was to include
the "Alliance" and several other vessels. But this plan also fell
through.
Jones was not in despair, for he never was that, although he had good
reason to be so now; but he was beginning to be very angry. He had been
told to look about in the seaports and select a vessel, and he had
selected several; but his letters all seemed to be pigeon-holed when
they got to Paris. One day he chanced to take up an old number of the
"Poor Richard's Almanac," which Franklin had written years before, and
read in it these words: "If you want a thing done, go and do it; if not,
send!" Acting upon this advice he went to Paris, and in a few days after
his arrival he was gratified by the announcement that one of the ships
he had seen was to be fitted out for him.
The ship was the "Duc de Duras," an old Indiaman; and Jones was so
grateful for the advice which had prompted him to go to Paris, that he
had her rechristened the "Poor Richard," or "Bon Homme Richard," as they
called it in French. She was not a first-rate ship, but she would answer
the purpose, and Jones knew that beggars should not be choosers. The
larger frigates of that day carried 18-pounders, but the "Richard," as
we shall call her, had only 12-pounders. Jones managed, however, to get
six 18's, which he mounted in the gun-room, cutting ports for them in
the side. Besides his own ship he was to have four others,--the
"Alliance," under Landais, and three smaller vessels, the "Pallas,"
"Cerf," and "Vengeance," commanded by French officers, and with crews of
Frenchmen.
The crew of the "Bon Homme Richard" was made up partly of Americans,
many of whom were exchanged prisoners, and she carried a considerable
body of French marines. The rest of her people were taken from the
foreign sailors of all nations and classes that are to be found in every
seaport. Her officers were Americans. Of these the best was the first
lieutenant, Richard Dale, one of the most gallant young officers that
was ever borne upon the rolls of the American Navy, of whose career you
have already heard something in the last chapter, and who, as I told
you then, had made his final escape from prison just in time to set out
in the "Richard." The commodore, as Jones was now called, would have
been badly off if it had not been for Dale; for through accidents he
became short of officers on the cruise, and in the great battle that
ended it, Dale was almost the only one of rank upon whom he could rely.
The squadron sailed from Lorient on the 14th of August, 1779. The plan
was to sail to the northward along the Irish and Scotch coasts, thence
to the east, and back by way of the North Sea, keeping near the shore,
and so circling around the United Kingdom. When a few days out, at dusk
one evening, off the Irish coast, the crew of the "Richard's" barge,
which was towing at the time, cut the tow-line and pulled off. The
master, Lunt, was sent in another boat in chase, but a thick fog coming
up, he was unable to rejoin the ship. Next day the "Cerf" went in toward
the coast to find him, the others remaining meanwhile outside in the
track of vessels. Lunt saw the "Cerf" approaching him, but as she was
flying English colors, he mistook her for an enemy, and made off to the
shore, where he and his boat's crew were taken prisoners. The "Cerf"
seized the opportunity to leave her duty and go back to France.
After this incident the squadron, now composed of the "Bon Homme
Richard," the "Alliance," the "Pallas," and the "Vengeance," pursued its
way, taking prizes and destroying them or sending them in. All the
French captains were insubordinate, but Landais was the worst. Sometimes
he flatly refused to obey the commodore's orders, and at all times he
opposed and thwarted him as far as he dared. Still, the cruise was
successful, the squadron doubled Cape Wrath, and about the 15th of
September arrived off the Frith of Forth.
Jones was now eager to accomplish some great achievement, for so far he
had done nothing that was more noteworthy than his cruise in the
"Ranger." As he came up the Frith, he decided to stand in toward Leith,
the seaport of Edinburgh, and anchoring before the unprotected town, to
demand a ransom of £200,000 as the price of sparing it. His plan was
laid with care, and he had only to wait till night, when the "Pallas"
and the "Vengeance," which were a little behind, should join him. The
"Alliance" at this time was away at sea, having been separated from the
squadron. When the other ships came up, their captains demurred at
Jones's plan, and the whole night was lost in tedious debate and
argument. Finally the Frenchmen were won over to consent; but now that
morning had come, the wind was contrary, and for two days all the ships
were working up the Frith. At last they had nearly reached the
anchorage, when a furious gale came on and drove them all out to the
North Sea, running ashore one of the prizes they had taken. The
commodore at first was for making a second trial; but when he found that
the alarm had been given in the town, and that batteries had been thrown
up along the shore, and arms had been served out to the trade-guilds so
that they might be ready to receive him, he reluctantly gave up the
attempt.
It was a few days after this, on the afternoon of the 23d of September,
as the four ships were working their way gradually to the southward
along the English coast, that Jones's opportunity at length arrived. He
had just passed Flamborough Head, a long promontory jutting out in the
North Sea, when he descried a sail coming out beyond the point to the
northward, then another, and another, then more, by twos and threes,
until at last there were fifty of them. Fifty of the enemy's
merchant-vessels in plain sight! It seemed almost too good to be true,
for this was the great fleet of Baltic trading-ships, which it was the
dearest wish of Jones's heart to meet. In an instant he had hoisted the
signal to attack them; but presently the headmost merchant-ships, seeing
the advancing enemy, put about and made off under the land, followed by
the others like a flock of frightened geese. Two of the vessels alone
kept on their course, and it was presently discovered that these were
ships of war convoying the fleet,--the fine 18-pounder frigate
"Serapis," just from the dock-yard, under Captain Pearson, and a smaller
vessel, the "Countess of Scarborough." These two vessels stood gallantly
out to sea to get between the convoy and Jones's squadron. Jones held on
his course to meet them; but Landais, either from cowardice or
treachery, disobeyed the commodore's signals, and sailing off, left him
in the lurch. The "Vengeance" being too small to be of any service, and
the "Pallas" engaging the "Countess of Scarborough," the "Bon Homme
Richard" was left to fight the "Serapis" alone.
It was seven o'clock in the evening when the first shots were exchanged
between the two frigates, and for three hours, under the bright
moonlight of a clear September night, the battle raged between them with
unremitting fury. At first Jones tried to get into a good position
across the enemy's bow; but the "Serapis" was a much faster vessel than
the "Richard," and easily evaded her. After manoeuvring for a time the
two vessels got foul, and Jones with his own hands made fast the
jib-stay of the "Serapis" to his mizzen-mast. At the same time the
English vessel's anchor hooked in his quarter, and the "Serapis" having
let go her other anchor, the two ships, firmly lashed together, swung
side by side to the single cable.
This position was much the best that Jones could have taken; for the
"Serapis" outsailed him, and if the ships had remained apart, she would
soon have knocked him to pieces with her heavy battery. As it was, her
18-pounders cleared the "Richard's" lower deck, knocking all her ports
into one, and blowing out the two sides of the ship. At the beginning of
the battle, two of the old 18-pounders which Jones had taken care to
mount in his gun-room burst, and the crew refused to have anything more
to do with them. Lieutenant Dale, who commanded the lower battery, fired
his little 12-pounders as long as the men could stand to their guns,
though in order to load them the rammers had to be run in through the
enemy's ports, so close were the two ships. Presently word was brought
to Dale that the ship was sinking, and he sent some men to man the
pumps. Then the master-at-arms, overcome by panic, set loose all the
prisoners,--there were more than a hundred of them,--and the men
stationed in the magazine, seeing them crowding up, were afraid to send
up any more powder. But Dale was below again in a twinkling, and
overawing the prisoners, he set them to work in gangs at the pumps. When
he returned to the gun-deck he found it almost deserted, for the sides
were nearly all open, and the cannon-balls were passing through and
falling into the water beyond. Then indeed it seemed as if all hope was
lost and the "Bon Homme Richard" was a beaten ship, and it would be
folly to hold out longer.
But all this time another fight had been going forward on the deck
above, where Jones himself was in command. Pearson, seeing the havoc
that had been made on the gun-deck of the "Richard," hailed the
commodore to know if he surrendered; but Jones, though his ship was
sinking, his gun-deck riddled, his prisoners loose, and, worst of all, a
fire had broken out near the magazine, sang out in answer that he "had
not yet begun to fight." And he was as good as his word. Though the
purser, who had charge of the battery on the quarter-deck, had been shot
in the head, and some of the guns had been disabled, Jones had others
moved across the deck, and pointing them himself, poured round after
round of grape-shot upon the enemy. The French marines, too, with their
muskets, were stationed in the tops, and taking steady and deliberate
aim killed man after man on the spar-deck of the "Serapis," until
Pearson was left there almost alone. Other marines and sailors lying out
on the yard-arms of the "Richard," which overhung the enemy's deck,
flung hand-grenades through the open hatchways. Finally one of these
struck the piles of cartridges that were lying on the lower deck of the
"Serapis," and caused a series of deafening explosions, by which twenty
men were killed and many more were wounded.
This last mischance was too much for Captain Pearson, and left alone and
unsupported as he was on the quarter-deck, he surrendered, hauling down
his flag with his own hands. Instantly Dale, who had been with Jones
during the last part of the battle, caught a pendant that was hanging
from the main-yard, and swung himself over to the enemy's deck. He was
quickly followed by Midshipman Mayrant and a party of men who scrambled
over the rail; but so little did those below know of what had happened,
that a man ran Mayrant through the leg with a pike, and the English
first lieutenant, rushing up on deck, asked Dale if the Americans had
surrendered.
"No," said Dale, calmly; "it is you who have surrendered, and you are my
prisoner."
The crew were then secured, the ships were disentangled, and the victory
was won.
While the great fight was going on between the large vessels, the
"Countess of Scarborough" had fallen an easy prey to the "Pallas," which
was a heavier ship. The "Alliance," if Landais had done his duty, might
have destroyed the enemy single-handed; but she took no part in the
fight except to fire a few broadsides at the two ships as they lay
together, which did more harm to the "Richard" than to her foe. Landais
was led to this most treacherous conduct by his jealousy of Jones; but
so far from injuring the commodore, it only benefited him, for it left
to him alone all the glory of the victory.
The "Richard" was kept afloat with difficulty that night; but next day a
gale sprang up, and seeing that it was impossible to save her, Jones
took off all his people and their prisoners to the captured ship. Then
the "Bon Homme Richard," whose career had been so short and glorious,
slowly settled, until at last the waves closed over her. The other ships
made sail and put into the Dutch port of the Texel, where Jones took
command of the "Alliance," and soon after, carrying her through the
midst of the Channel fleet, arrived safely at Brest. The miserable
Landais was tried by a court-martial, and dismissed from the service in
disgrace,--a punishment which he richly deserved.
In the whole war of the Revolution there was no event, excepting the
battles of Saratoga and Yorktown, where Burgoyne and Cornwallis laid
down their arms, that so encouraged our friends and wrought confusion to
our enemies, as the victory of the "Bon Homme Richard." The battle had
been fought on the English coast, and in the sight of a thousand
Englishmen. The "Serapis" was a noble ship, well armed, commanded by a
gallant officer, while her victorious enemy was old and rotten, an India
trading-vessel never meant for war, with guns of no great service. No
wonder that when Paul Jones went to Paris after the battle the people of
all degrees vied with one another in doing honor to the victorious
commodore. He went to Court, where he was graciously received, and the
King presented him with a golden sword, and made him a chevalier of his
Order of Merit,--an honor which it was said had only been conferred
before that time upon those who had borne arms under the commission of
France. The Continental Congress, too, was mindful of his great service,
and caused a medal to be struck in commemoration of the victory.
It was Paul Jones's last exploit in the navy of his country. When the
"America," the first ship-of-the-line that was built by the United
States, was nearly finished, Congress passed a resolution, without one
dissenting voice, giving the command to Jones. But in 1782, when the
ship was ready, the war was almost over, and it was then thought best to
give her to the French, to take the place of the ship "Magnifique,"
which had been lost in Boston Harbor. So there was nothing left for
Jones to do; but if in his whole life he had accomplished nothing else
but the conquest of the "Serapis," that single act would have been
enough to make his country hold him forever in grateful remembrance.
Some years after the end of the Revolution the Russian Empress
Catherine, who was then fighting against the Turks, sent for Paul Jones
to lead her fleet against the enemy. Thus it came about that he became a
Russian Admiral, and commanded the squadron in the Black Sea, where he
increased his fame by winning victories over the Turkish vessels. After
this service he came back to Paris, where he died in 1792, in the midst
of the French Revolution.
CHAPTER V.
BARRY AND BARNEY.
During the time that Wickes and Conyngham and Paul Jones were carrying
on the war with such success in the enemy's waters under the guidance of
Franklin, the Continental Navy was cruising on the American coast as
actively as was possible, in the neighborhood of the great English
fleets. But it was a work of the utmost danger and difficulty. Several
of the ports at one time or another were in the enemy's hands, and in
all of them the Tories, or Loyalists, as they called themselves, were
ready to give information whenever a vessel was fitted out for sea.
Outside the ports, and up and down the coast, from Halifax to Florida,
were innumerable cruisers of the enemy, sailing alone or in light
squadrons, ever on the watch, and ready to capture the insurgent ships,
which almost always were of lesser force. Of the thirteen frigates that
were built by Congress in 1775, five never got to sea at all, and
several of the others, like Biddle's ship, the "Randolph," were captured
or destroyed before they had had time to do much service. The first one
taken was the "Hancock," under Captain Manley, the same who, by his
capture of the brig "Nancy," had so rejoiced the army before Boston. He
was cruising toward the Banks, and had made one good prize, the armed
ship "Fox," when, rashly looking into Halifax, he was chased out and
captured by Sir George Collier in the "Rainbow" frigate. This was in
1777. The next year was full of disasters. First came the blowing up of
the "Randolph" in March, the story of which has been already told. In
April, the "Virginia," which had been built at Baltimore, was taken
while aground on her first passage down the Chesapeake. In August, too,
the "Raleigh" had to yield, but only after a hard-fought battle, of
which we shall hear more presently. In the next year the "Warren," under
Commodore Saltonstall, sailing on an expedition against the British post
on the Penobscot, fell in with a large squadron of the enemy and was
burned to prevent capture. The "Providence" and "Boston" were taken a
year later, at the surrender of Charleston; but, like the "Warren," they
had done good service and taken many prizes before they fell into the
hands of the enemy. The last of all the thirteen frigates was the
"Trumbull," and she held on till 1781, when she was overpowered by a
squadron and struck after a desperate resistance.
One of the Philadelphia frigates which never got to sea was the
"Effingham." Near the latter part of 1776 she was assigned to the
command of John Barry, a Philadelphia sea-captain of Irish birth, who
was much trusted and respected by the great merchants of his adopted
city, and who had entered the navy at the beginning of the war. Under
such difficulties did the Colonies labor in the preparation of their
ships-of-war, that the "Effingham" was at this time far from being in a
condition to proceed to sea, and while waiting for her during the
winter, Barry saw some service with the army as a volunteer. The spring
and summer passed away, and still his ship was not ready. At last, in
September, Sir William Howe suddenly appeared in the Chesapeake, and
after landing and fighting the battle of the Brandywine, he marched
across the country to the Delaware, and took possession of Philadelphia.
The "Effingham" and the other ships which had been lying there were
hurried away to places of safety either up or down the river. The
British threw up works to command the river, and the frigate "Delaware,"
attacking them, ran aground and was lost. The Continental troops in the
river forts--Fort Mercer and Fort Mifflin--were vigorously assailed by
the British and the Hessians; and though the invaders were repulsed with
heavy loss, the forts were finally evacuated. The ships below the
town--among them Biddle's famous little brig the "Andrew Doria"--were
then destroyed, and the passage was opened to the enemy from
Philadelphia to the sea.
The "Effingham" and "Washington"--the two unfinished frigates--had been
carried up the stream, where they remained, as it would seem, secure
from all attack. Barry grew impatient in his enforced idleness, and
conceived a plan to use the frigates' boats for a cutting-out expedition
down the river, where the enemy's freight-ships and transports, loaded
with supplies and stores, were constantly passing and repassing on their
way to and from the sea. Selecting thirty men on whom he could rely, he
rowed down the stream, and evading all the lookouts, made his way
successfully past the town. Pausing now cautiously to reconnoitre, he
presently discovered four store-ships which had anchored in the river
before discharging their cargo. Stealthily he crept up to the nearest
of them, boarded her with his men, overcame the watch, and in a few
seconds had taken possession of her. The same course was pursued with
the other three. Barry was strongly tempted to try to carry off his
prizes; but by this time the alarm had been given and signals were
displayed, and before long the enemy's patrol boats would approach.
There was nothing left but to destroy the vessels; and Barry, taking
only time enough to see that the work had been well done, made for the
opposite shore, and after landing his men safely, returned without loss
to the frigate.
The boldness with which Barry had performed this dashing exploit won for
him a reputation with both friends and foes. The story goes that Howe,
struck by the captain's daring, made overtures to him to join the
British service, and even went so far as to promise him a reward of
£15,000 if he would betray his trust. "Not the value or command of the
whole British Navy," was Barry's prompt answer, "would seduce me from
the cause of my country!"
The French alliance, and the change it wrought upon the face of the war,
led the British to determine upon the evacuation of Philadelphia, which
came about accordingly in the following summer. But before going away
they struck one blow from which the Continental Navy could not easily
recover. Major Maitland, with a force of gunboats and barges,
accompanied by a detachment of infantry and artillery, made a raid up
the river and sought out all the vessels which had been lying snugly
concealed there during the winter. They had no batteries, and were in no
way capable of offering resistance; and all, including the "Effingham"
and "Washington," were burned. A month later the British abandoned
Philadelphia.
Barry was now appointed to the "Raleigh," one of the best of the
thirteen frigates, which had already been at sea under another captain.
At this time she was lying at Boston, and on the 25th of September,
1778, Barry weighed anchor and sailed down the harbor, bound on a cruise
to the eastward. She had been only six hours out of port, when two large
ships were seen approaching her from a distance. These proved to be a
British frigate, the "Experiment," of fifty guns, and the sloop
"Unicorn." The "Experiment" alone was nearly double the "Raleigh's"
size, and Barry used his best endeavors to escape from them. But they
had seen him, and crowded sail in chase. Night fell, and concealed both
pursuers and pursued. The next day was hazy; but at noon the fog lifted
and showed the enemy still far away, but doing all he could to lessen
the distance. So the chase continued for the rest of the day and the
whole of the night, and the next day too, the enemy occasionally lost to
view, and so raising the hopes of Barry and his crew, but each time
reappearing, and still in hot pursuit. On the morning of the third day
the wind freshened, and the "Raleigh," which now was off the coast of
Maine, gradually increased her speed and seemed about to cast off her
pursuers; but in the afternoon the breeze again fell light, giving them
once more the advantage, until at five o'clock the larger ship, the
"Experiment," had barely managed to come up, and opened fire.
The chances of escape now seemed slight indeed; but Barry was not a man
to let himself be taken without a struggle, even by an enemy that was
twice his size, and boldly joining battle, he began a contest which was
to last for seven long hours, and in which the steadfast courage and
unyielding purpose of the commander would have done credit to Paul Jones
himself. At the second fire of the enemy the "Raleigh's" fore-topmast
toppled over and fell. Nevertheless, she kept up a furious cannonade at
close quarters, pouring in broadside after broadside at her big
antagonist. The latter now found herself badly injured, and moved to a
point some distance off, keeping up her fire at long range. Never
allowing himself to be discouraged for a moment, although he had little
reason to hope, Barry took advantage of this breathing-space to repair
his damages. Then he followed the enemy and attempted to close with her
and carry her by boarding. It was a desperate measure, but it seemed to
be the only chance; for the "Unicorn" had now come up, and Barry found
himself between two fires. The "Experiment," however, discovered his
purpose and avoided him successfully. It had now grown very dark, and as
a last resort Barry sought to get away and elude his opponents among the
islands which at this point are thickly dotted along the shores of
Maine; but they hung to him closely, and as a crowning misfortune his
vessel ran aground. The struggle was now hopeless, and it would have
been madness to hold out any longer. Abandoning his ship, Barry made for
the land. This, with great difficulty, he at length reached, and so
succeeded in escaping with some part of his crew; but the frigate which
he had so gallantly defended fell into the hands of the enemy.
Thus ended the cruise of the "Raleigh,"--a cruise which had lasted only
three days, but of which every moment had been filled with intense
excitement, alternating between faint hope and blank despair, ending in
failure, but which gave to her captain a name and fame that lasted long
after the close of the Revolution. No man of his day in the navy was
more honored by his equals and more beloved and reverenced by those
below him in rank. His sailors adored him; there was nothing they were
not ready to do for him. He was always frank and generous to his friends
and humane to his enemies. On board his ship he exacted full obedience,
and he got it, both from officers and men, but always by gentle means.
With a fine and noble presence, and a face that bespoke a true heart and
ready hand guided by a strong purpose and a lofty courage, there was
none in all the navy more regarded and esteemed than John Barry.
After the cruise of the "Raleigh," Barry served for a time in
privateers. Like Paul Jones, he should have had a good ship, but there
was none to give him. Finally in 1780, after Landais came back disgraced
from Europe, Barry was ordered to take command of the "Alliance," and in
the following winter he sailed for France, taking with him as a
passenger Henry Laurens, who went out as the new Minister to France. In
May, 1781, he left Lorient on his return; and on the 28th, being then
near the Banks of Newfoundland, in the evening he discovered in his
neighborhood two sail of the enemy,--the ship "Atalanta," of twenty
guns, and the brig "Trepassey," of fourteen. Barry waited for daylight
to attack them; but the next morning the wind fell, and not a ripple
broke the shining surface of the water; while the "Alliance," with her
tall and graceful spars, and her sails hanging loose in the dead calm,
slowly rose and fell with the broad swell of the Atlantic. There she lay
like a huge log, unable to move a yard this way or that. Her very size
was a misfortune now, for her two antagonists, smaller and more handy,
could manoeuvre as they pleased, with their long sweeps; and moving up
they took positions on her quarter, and opened on her with their guns.
The "Alliance" could not reply with a single cannon, her heavy battery
was useless, and the "Atalanta" and her consort kept up a steady fire
for the whole morning and well into the afternoon. It was a galling
thing for Barry to be placed thus at the mercy of a lesser force, to see
his men shot down around him, and to be powerless himself to fire a shot
in their defence.
At two o'clock Barry, who had all this time been waiting with impatience
on the quarter-deck for the unwilling breeze, received a wound in the
shoulder from a grape-shot. Stung as he was by the sharp pain, he
refused to leave the deck; but at length, fainting from loss of blood,
he was carried below to the cockpit, where the surgeon set about
dressing his wound. Presently the first lieutenant came down to report
the condition of the ship, upon whose deck many of the crew were lying
killed or wounded, and ending his report, asked if he should strike the
flag. Barry indignantly refused. "If the ship," said he, "cannot be
fought without me, they shall carry me again on deck."
This answer revived the drooping spirits of the crew and gave fresh
vigor to their efforts. Soon after this a little wind sprang up. It
barely gave the frigate way to bring her guns to bear upon the enemy;
but it was enough, and only a few broadsides from her 18-pounders were
needed to settle the result. The captain of the "Trepassey" fell, and
his ship immediately surrendered. His comrade Edwards, who commanded
the "Atalanta," refused at first to yield, but a few more broadsides
cut his vessel well-nigh to pieces, and at three o'clock his flag too
was hauled down. As the brave Edwards came on board the "Alliance" to
give up his sword, Barry, forgetting his wound and the anxious hours
that his opponent had made him pass, generously gave it back to him,
saying as he did so, "Keep it, my friend. You richly deserve it; and
your king ought to give you a better ship."
The "Alliance" during the next year was still cruising under Barry's
command. But the war, though in name it still continued, was almost at
an end. It was now certain that the king would do the thing he most
abhorred, which was to recognize the independence of America,--and
hostilities on land had really ceased. The seas still swarmed with
British cruisers, but none of them were able to capture the "Alliance,"
and she was brought safely home. After the treaty was concluded, the
Government, no longer needing her, sold her to Philadelphia merchants,
and she became a peaceful trading-vessel.
* * * * *
There was one officer among the younger men of the navy who resembled
Barry no less in bravery and seamanlike skill than in the winning
frankness and generosity of his nature. This was Joshua Barney. Three
years before the war broke out he had gone to sea on his first voyage,
and had risen in two years to be the second mate of his vessel. Early in
1775, not dreaming of the hostilities that were shortly to occur; he
had set out from Baltimore on a voyage to the Mediterranean. The captain
died at sea, the chief mate had been left behind, and Barney found
himself, when only sixteen years of age, in the command of a leaky ship,
with a long voyage before him, and all the responsibility resting on his
shoulders. It was a hard trial for him; but he had gained the good-will
of his crew, and to a man they obeyed and supported him. Just before
sighting the coast of Spain he fell in with a gale of wind; and he only
managed to get into Gibraltar as his ship was on the point of going
down. Here he obtained assistance and repairs by giving bonds,--for he
had no money,--and he was thus enabled to deliver his cargo at Nice,
which was the port of destination. The firm to which the cargo was
consigned refused to pay the bonds, although there could be no doubt
that it was their duty. "Well, then," said Barney, "you shall not have
your cargo."
The merchants were astounded at the attempt of this boy of sixteen to
make resistance, and upon their presenting a complaint to the governor,
the latter threw Barney into prison. Making his escape by a stratagem,
young Barney went at once to Milan and laid his case before the British
minister, with such effect that in three days he had returned to Nice,
the governor had apologized, his bond had been paid, and his ship
discharged.
After a short stay Barney set out on his voyage home. As he was coming
up the Chesapeake, he learned for the first time, from an English
sloop-of-war that boarded him, of the stirring events that had
occurred,--that battles had been fought at Lexington and Bunker Hill,
and that Washington was besieging Boston, and the war for independence
was begun. As soon as he landed, he made the offer of his services to
the Government.
At first Barney served as a volunteer in small vessels; but he soon
became a lieutenant, and he was ordered late in the summer of 1776 to
the "Andrew Doria," now under the command of Captain Robinson. In this
ship he made a cruise to the West Indies. While here, the "Doria" put in
at the Dutch island of St. Eustatius to get some ammunition that was
stored there for the Continental Congress, and upon arrival she fired a
salute to the governor's flag. The governor, without much thought
perhaps, returned the salute. This was the first time that the flag of
the new American State had been recognized by any foreign power, and the
Americans were much rejoiced that it should come about. But the British,
who still felt that the Colonies were a part of Britain, and who knew
that Holland was bound so to regard them, were incensed at the
governor's act, and demanded his recall. The Dutchmen, who did not dare
refuse, ordered him home; and the poor governor lost his post in
consequence of his unthinking courtesy.
Soon after this the "Doria," now on her way home, met an enemy's
sloop-of-war, the "Racehorse," which had been sent by Admiral Parker to
lie in wait for her off Porto Rico. But the admiral did not count upon
the bravery of the Americans, or he would have sent a larger ship; for
the "Racehorse," after a hot engagement for two hours, was herself
forced to surrender.
A few days later the "Doria" captured an English snow,--an armed
merchant-vessel of peculiar rig,--and Barney was detached to take her
home. As had happened before with the "Doria's" prizes when Biddle was
in command, the brig's crew was too small to man them, and Barney made
up the needed number from the prisoners. On the way north he had heavy
weather, for it was now December,--a month in which no seaman likes to
pass Cape Hatteras,--and day after day the vessel encountered a
succession of furious gales and heavy seas. Keeping well out to the
eastward until he had fetched a point from which he could reach the
Chesapeake, Barney now headed for the land, and at last found himself,
on Christmas night, in a driving easterly storm, close on the breakers
of the Jersey coast. To keep his vessel away from the lee shore and its
certain perils, the young prize-master, as his only course, resolved to
ride out the gale and let go his only anchor. So the night fell upon him
and his men,--a fearful night, what with the roaring tempest, and the
sea rolling mountains high, while every wave broke over the bows of the
ship. It seemed each instant, from the violence of the sea, that the
small cable must part, and with it she would lose her only hope. The
men, yielding themselves to blank despair, were sinking into lethargy.
It was then that Barney, though he had little cause to hope himself,
talked to them with cheering words, trying to rouse them from their
stupor. He called to mind the battles they had fought, and how they had
been ready to stand up bravely before the enemy and face death in
another form.
"I am not much of a chaplain, my good lads," he said, "but this I know,
that the same Power that protected you then can protect you now; and if
we are all to go to Davy Jones's locker, we might as well go with a bold
face as a sheepish one."
Barney's good example shamed the men to greater courage; but the night
wore on and the day broke, and still the fury of the storm kept up. The
crew were in the tops, and Barney with them. Soon a cry was heard of
"Sail ho!" and every eye was turned toward a small sloop, which appeared
in sight driven before the gale, yet trying to make an offing. Anxiously
the men watched the frail boat, one moment rising on the wave till they
could see her keel, and the next plunging down till she was lost to
view. Each time it seemed as if she could not rise again; but each time
she shot up on the foaming crest, seemingly steadying herself an instant
before the next downward plunge. Suddenly there was heard a long, shrill
shriek of terror piercing through the din and crash of breakers, and the
sloop was swallowed up in the seething waters.
After this sight no words of Barney's could rouse his men from their
terrors. But fortunately toward the middle of the afternoon the wind
abated and the sea gradually went down. Barney lost no time in getting
his crew down from aloft as soon as it was safe, and they were only too
glad to come.
"Up with the anchor! Man the capstan! Cheerily, my lads!" rang out from
Barney; and the men went to their duties with a will, and getting
underway, headed for the harbor of Chincoteague, near by, where they
found a temporary shelter.
After resting here for a few days Barney started for the Chesapeake. On
the second day out he was discovered by the "Perseus," one of the
enemy's blockading vessels, which immediately started in pursuit. Barney
would have got off, as he had the faster ship; but the prisoners in his
crew, who had been planning mutiny, and were only waiting till they
sighted an English ship-of-war, refused to go to their stations. Barney
singled out the ringleader and ordered him to his duty, and as the
man did not stir he shot him then and there, though without giving him a
mortal wound. This put an end to the mutiny; but through the delay the
"Perseus" had been enabled to overtake the prize-vessel, and so she was
recaptured. The wounded mutineer told his story to Captain Elphinstone,
the commander of the "Perseus," thinking that he would at once have
Barney put in irons; but the captain set his complaint at nought, and
said that if he had been in Barney's place he would have done the same.
[Illustration: "THE SLOOP WAS SWALLOWED UP IN THE SEETHING WATERS."]
Barney remained a month on board the "Perseus." Her captain,
Elphinstone, who afterward became the famous Admiral Lord Keith, was a
generous enemy, and treated his prisoners as became an honorable and
gallant officer. Upon one occasion the purser, a hot-tempered Scotchman,
struck Barney in the face, on the quarter-deck, whereupon the young
lieutenant knocked him down. The captain, when he heard of it, sent word
to them both to come to his cabin, and without asking any questions he
commanded the purser to make apology on his knees to the unarmed
prisoner whom he had affronted. So Barney fared well in the "Perseus;"
but he was not sorry, soon afterward, at Charleston, to leave her on
parole and go to Philadelphia, to which place his old ship the "Andrew
Doria" had meanwhile come without mishap.
For some months Barney could not join his ship, being bound by his
parole, but at last an accident relieved him of it. It happened that
Lieutenant Moriarty, of the English frigate "Solebay," with a
boat's-crew, had incautiously gone ashore for water somewhere in the
Chesapeake, and had been seized and taken prisoner by a party of
Virginians. Captain Elphinstone now made an agreement with Gov. Patrick
Henry, of Virginia, to exchange the two lieutenants; and so Barney was
released from his parole in time to bear his part in the actions in the
Delaware River during the weeks that followed Sir William Howe's
occupation of the city. How the "Doria" and the other vessels were
destroyed after the surrender of the forts has been already told; and
Barney, being now without a ship, was ordered to march with a detachment
of his men to Baltimore, and there to join the new frigate "Virginia."
It was just at New Year's, in 1778, that Barney arrived in Baltimore;
and as the frigate of which he was to be the first lieutenant was not
yet ready for sea, he took command of a pilot-boat to cruise about the
bay and watch the movements of the enemy, who had then several ships in
the Chesapeake. One night, as he was returning from a reconnoissance, he
found a merchant-sloop from Baltimore on her way down the bay, and
hailed her, telling her what dangers she would meet below. To his no
small surprise he was answered by a volley of musketry. He tacked in
order that he might the better return this unlooked-for fire, and
presently discovered on the off side of the sloop a ship's barge lashed
alongside. It was now clear why his seeming friend had fired on him. The
enemy had cut out the sloop, and they were using her as a decoy to
capture Barney. But he served them the same turn that he had served the
"Racehorse;" for after a short and sharp struggle he captured them and
took them to the city. The barge belonged to His Majesty's ship "Otter;"
and Barney, mindful of the treatment he had received on board the
"Perseus," took the best of care of his prisoners,--above all of Gray,
the officer in charge, who had been wounded, and sent a flag-of-truce
boat to the "Otter," to bring them what they needed.
On the last day of March the "Virginia" left Baltimore, and attempted
under cover of the night to pass the British lookouts in the bay, and so
get out to sea. No doubt she would have done it safely had not the
pilot, losing his way, run her ashore on the Middle Ground, a large
shoal in the lower Chesapeake. The morning broke, and found her hard and
fast aground, with three of the enemy's frigates close at hand.
Nicholson, the captain of the "Virginia," now called away his barge and
left the ship, making his escape to land. It is a story that one must
grieve to tell of an American officer; but it can only be supposed that,
having but just entered the navy, he did not know what honor and duty
meant. There was nothing left now but surrender, for the rest could not
escape.
Barney was now a prisoner on board the "Emerald" frigate. It is clear
that even in a bitter war not only one good turn deserves another, but
secures another; for the kind treatment which Barney had received from
Captain Elphinstone resulted in his kindness to the "Otter's" men, and
this again, which was well known throughout the British squadron, gained
for him equal favors in his new captivity. But this did not last long;
for after a little while he was sent to New York, where for the first
time he came to know the horrors of a prison-ship.
Late in August Barney was exchanged, and found himself again in
Baltimore; but there was little now for him to do. After all the
disasters of this disastrous year of 1778, only four frigates were left
on the American coast, and the smaller vessels had mostly been destroyed
or captured. While he was in this plight a merchant offered him the
command of a privateer schooner, carrying two guns and a crew of eight
men; and Barney, being so reduced for want of naval occupation,
consented to take her to St. Eustatius with a cargo of tobacco. He must
have been truly at his wit's end to have undertaken such a voyage in
such a craft; for even if he could have carried out the undertaking, he
would have gained neither glory nor profit from it. But he was not
destined to carry it out; for even before he reached the capes he met a
larger privateer, carrying four guns and sixty men, which speedily
disposed of him after a running fight of a few minutes. The enemy, not
caring to be troubled with prisoners, put him and his little crew
ashore; and his voyage being thus curtailed, he found himself a few days
later again in Baltimore. Here he remained for several weeks.
Strange as it must seem, Barney was now only nineteen years old, yet
there had been crowded into his short boy-life more adventures and
perilous enterprises than most men of three times his years have gone
through. Since the war began, he had been thrice made a prisoner, but
each time he had been fortunate in having humane captors. But the worst
was yet in store for him. After a successful privateering voyage to
Bordeaux, he sailed in 1780 in the "Saratoga," under Captain Young.
Early in October she captured four prizes, one of which was given to
Barney to command. He left the "Saratoga," and it was fortunate he did,
for she was never seen or heard of afterward; but the prize which he
commanded was herself captured only one day later by a British squadron.
Barney was taken to New York, and soon after sent to England in the
"Yarmouth." On board this ship the prisoners were confined in the hold,
in a space three feet high, and without light or air; and the horrors
of the voyage, which lasted seven weeks, remind one of the fearful
stories of the Middle Passage in the old slave-trading days. It was by
comparison a happiness to be transferred even to the Mill Prison, after
those wretched hours on board the "Yarmouth;" and the prisoners when
they came ashore, weak from suffering and disease and want of food, were
a most piteous spectacle.
How Barney, after three month's confinement, made his escape from
prison; how he lived six weeks unrecognized in London, though all the
time a price was set upon his head; how he sailed for Ostend in a
mail-packet, and after various wanderings upon the Continent at last
returned to America,--we have not time to tell. The spring of 1782 found
him once more in Philadelphia, still ready for any service for which his
country might call.
Although the war on land had at this time pretty nearly come to an end,
the Delaware River and the bay below were still infested by Tory
privateers and stray cruisers from the British fleets on the lookout for
prizes. To clear its waters of these marauders, the State of
Pennsylvania bought a merchant-vessel named the "Hyder Ali," which had
already started on her voyage with a cargo. She was brought back, her
merchandise removed, a battery of sixteen guns was mounted, and she was
fitted for a cruise under the command of Barney.
On the 8th of April she left Philadelphia with a large merchant fleet in
company, which had been waiting patiently until the new cruiser should
be ready to convoy them past the capes of the Delaware. All went
smoothly on the way down the bay; but at Cape May, as the wind was
southerly, the fleet anchored, waiting for a favorable breeze. They were
in this position when suddenly a force of the enemy, composed of a
frigate and a sloop-of-war, was seen rounding the cape on its way to
attack them. Barney ordered the convoy to retire up the bay out of
harm's reach, and the vessels tripped their anchors and made sail before
the southerly wind, the "Hyder Ali" staying behind to cover their
retreat.
Now it happened that there was--and still is, for that matter--in the
lower part of the bay, a widely-spreading shoal called the Overfalls,
which divided the water into two channels. The convoy on its way up took
the eastern channel, and thither it was followed by the "Hyder Ali." The
frigate went up on the western side, hoping by this means to overtake
and cut off some of the merchantmen without hindrance at the upper end
of the shoal. But the sloop, her captain being more ambitious or more
reckless, followed in the wake of the convoy; and thus it came to pass
that in a short time she had caught up with the "Hyder Ali," which,
seeing that the enemy's force was divided, was taking no great pains to
get away from her. The sloop was the "General Monk," which under the
name of the "Washington" had once been an American privateer, but had
been captured by the enemy.
Although the "Monk" alone was considerably heavier in force, as she
carried twenty 9-pounders to his sixteen 6's, Barney waited for her to
join battle. His object was to get her so to place herself that he would
be able to rake her; that is, by lying across her bow or stern, to make
his broadside sweep her decks from one end to the other. This he
accomplished by a stratagem. As the "Monk" approached his quarter, he
sang out to his helmsman to "port the helm," so loud, that the enemy
could hear him. If the quartermaster had obeyed his order, it would have
given the "Monk" an advantage by enabling her to rake his stern; but
Barney had arranged beforehand that the helmsman should do just the
opposite of what he said. The result was that the "Hyder Ali" was thrown
squarely across the bow of the sloop, so that a moment later her
jib-boom was entangled in the American's rigging, where she was held
fast, and Barney had her at his mercy. He poured his broadside the whole
length of her decks, and she could barely answer now and then with a
single gun. After half an hour's contest she surrendered.
[Illustration: HEAVING THE LEAD ON BOARD THE FRIGATE.]
Meantime the frigate, seeing what was going on, endeavored to help her
consort; but the shoal lay between, and it took her a long time to round
its lower end. Barney, knowing that he could not sustain a fight with
her, decided to make off, and did not stand upon the order of his going.
Hastily throwing a prize crew on board the "Monk," he held his course up
the river; while the frigate, which had turned back, was seen in the
distance doubling the southern end of the shoal. But she was too late,
and the "Hyder Ali" arrived with her convoy at Philadelphia, bringing
with her as a trophy the sloop which had been captured with so much
skill and gallantry.
The engagement between the "Hyder Ali" and the "General Monk" was the
last of any importance during the war. Indeed, since the beginning of
the French alliance in 1778, hostilities on the American coast had been
chiefly carried on by the great English and French fleets of
line-of-battle ships, which cast into the shade the small operations of
the Continental Navy. In this very month Sir George Rodney won his great
victory over the Count de Grasse in the West Indies,--a battle between
two opposing fleets larger than had ever before been brought into
action. Early in the next year the Treaty of Paris was concluded, which
recognized the independence of the United States; and the navy and the
army were disbanded, the ships that remained were sold, and the officers
and men returned again to private life.
CHAPTER VI.
HOSTILITIES WITH FRANCE.
Just at the close of the Revolution the country found itself
independent, but laboring under a heavy burden of debt, and with a
government that had hardly enough authority to be called a government at
all. In fact, at this period the nation was little more than a
collection of separate States, with a kind of league or confederation to
hold them together. Each of these States had its own government, which
paid little attention to the wants of the others. After a few years,
however, it became clear that the jealousies and rivalries of the States
would break up the league unless they were held together by some
stronger bond; and as they could attain strength and greatness only by
union, they wisely laid aside all their little differences, and acting
through their delegates at Philadelphia, formed that wonderful plan of a
united nation called the Constitution, which went into force in 1789,
and under which we still live; for so skilfully was it framed, that it
has stood every shock and trial, and the time will soon arrive to
celebrate the hundredth anniversary of its adoption.
It is clear that a country under such conditions could not possibly keep
up a navy; and so it was that after the Revolutionary War the whole
establishment gradually passed out of existence. Even when the
Constitution was adopted, and Washington became the first President of
the United States, there were other matters that required attention
first, and the new Government rightly gave its thoughts to these.
Besides, it was so short a time since the people of the Colonies had
suffered from the oppressions of the Royal Army and Navy, that they had
a dread and almost a hatred of any kind of standing military force.
Therefore, though one of the officers of the new Government was a
secretary of war, he had not much of an army to look after, and no navy
at all. But soon the Government found it necessary to make a change in
its naval policy, and the change came about in a very unexpected way.
There were at this time four small States on the southern shores of the
Mediterranean Sea called the Barbary Powers, which had for many years
derived much profit from the detestable practice of sending out
piratical ships to plunder the merchant-vessels of all nations. The
European States from time to time made an attempt to put the pirates
down, and sometimes a great nation had even paid them money on condition
that they should not molest its commerce. There is some ground for
thinking that England, of whom the Barbary Powers were most afraid,
rather encouraged their depredations than sought to check them, because
it was for her advantage, as a trading State, that foreign
merchant-fleets should suffer, in order that the field might be left
clear to her. However this may be, the English had never put forth their
naval strength against the corsairs; yet English merchantmen were
mostly spared by them. Before the Revolution the vessels of the
Colonies, bearing as they did the English flag, had all the privileges
of other English ships; but when the war was over, and the merchantmen
of the young American State began to reappear in the Mediterranean with
a new and hitherto unknown American flag, the Barbary cruisers pounced
upon them as their lawful prey.
The first piratical capture was made in 1785, and was a Boston ship, the
schooner "Maria." Soon afterward the "Dolphin," of Philadelphia, was
seized. These were carried into Algiers, where the ships and their
cargoes were confiscated by the Dey, and the crews were held in slavery.
It seems strange that there should not have been enough of public spirit
in the country to fit out ships at once and send them over to set free
the Americans who were enslaved by these Turkish outlaws, or at least to
protect from their barbarities other Americans navigating the seas. But
no such measures were taken, and the prisoners were left to languish in
captivity until their buccaneering captors received a heavy ransom.
Agents were indeed sent out, who did much chaffering with the Algerines,
mostly through foreign officials; but for a long time this brought about
no result, and several of the captives meanwhile died.
During the next few years the Portuguese were at war with Algiers, and
her ships were in consequence unable to venture far from port; but in
1793 a peace was concluded, and thereupon an Algerine squadron, suddenly
appearing outside the Strait of Gibraltar, fell upon and captured ten
unsuspecting American merchantmen. This was too much for any State to
bear, however long-suffering or impoverished it might be; and Congress
resolved at once to begin the building of a new fleet. Accordingly plans
were made for the construction of six frigates of a much larger size
than any which the navy had possessed during the Revolution. In fact,
some of them were of about the largest size that were then afloat, and
led our enemies in later wars to declare that we had misled them by
building ships-of-the-line under the name of frigates; which, even if it
had been true, would not have been a reproach to us, as it was their
business to find out what our ships were like. It was a most wise
measure to build these large frigates, as the country afterward
realized; and great credit is due to Joshua Humphreys, a Pennsylvania
ship-builder, upon whose suggestion the plan was adopted.
Even this small provision was made only after much debate and
opposition, because there were many men who thought that a navy would
make the central Government too powerful, and would be used to destroy
the liberties of the people: and although the building of the ships was
begun, negotiations with Algiers were continued, and large sums of money
were expended in presents,--or, to speak plain English, in bribes,--to
influence the Dey to make a treaty. These were so far successful that in
the next year the treaty was concluded, and all the prisoners were
ransomed. Such violent objections were now made to keeping up the naval
force, that it was decided to finish only two out of the six frigates,
and the work on the others was stopped. One member of Congress even went
so far as to say that he hoped "the ships would rot upon the stocks as
an instructive monument of national folly." Yet it was certainly much
greater folly to spend a million dollars--which was what the treaty
cost--in presents and bribes to Turkish officers, and in the ransom of
American citizens, rather than in building ships and fitting out a navy
to punish the marauders, and to deter them from a repetition of their
outrages. For, as we shall hereafter see, the money that was paid was
not enough to satisfy the Barbary Powers, who, however much they got,
were always wanting more; while the navy, so far from overturning
liberty, has ever since been one of its greatest bulwarks, by the glory
and honor which, through all its history, it has brought upon the
Republic.
* * * * *
In 1793, some time before the Algerine trouble was settled, a war had
broken out between France and Great Britain. It was only ten years after
the close of the Revolution, in which the French had been our trusted
friends and the British our bitter enemies; and the French, like
ourselves, and partly influenced by our example, had cast off their
monarchy and had established a republic. There seemed at first sight to
be every reason why we should side with them against the old enemy, and
in the beginning most of our people were ready to give them the warmest
sympathy and support. But the French Revolution, with its Reign of
Terror, soon took such a turn that men shrank with horror from its
blood-stained course; and meantime France, presuming too far upon the
services which she had rendered in our own struggle for independence,
demanded of us favors in return which we could not give without going
again to war with Britain. It was Washington's desire then, and it has
been our wise policy ever since, that we should avoid entangling
ourselves in European broils, so that we found it necessary to give
France a refusal, though it was very hard to do it. Thereupon the
French, knowing our weakness, especially at sea, took advantage of it to
inflict upon us every kind of injury and insult. They used our ports to
fit out privateers, and captured vessels of the enemy in our own waters,
which, as we were neutral in the war, they ought to have held sacred;
they seized our merchantmen upon frivolous pretexts, to the great damage
of our commerce; and when we made respectful protests and complaints
about it, our ministers were treated with such indignity as the world
has rarely seen in the dealings of Christian States.
The British too were guilty of aggressions on their side, but not at
this time to the same extent. So the people of America were
divided,--some siding with the French, partly for old friendship's sake,
and some with the British, because from them had come the lesser evil.
Between these two factions party spirit raged with bitterness and
rancor; so that it sometimes almost seemed as if men thought themselves
the citizens of one or the other of the opposing States, and forgot that
they were all Americans. Finally, matters came to such a pass that
something must be done to protect our commerce, and as a war with both
States at once seemed to be too great an undertaking, and France was at
this time the worse offender, the new President, John Adams, whose party
leanings were all upon that side, urged that a navy should be fitted out
to make reprisals upon the French cruisers and privateers.
[Illustration: "EVERYWHERE THE SHIP-YARDS WERE BUSY."]
In this way the summer of 1798 came to be a time of preparation for war.
The larger frigates were completed, and several small ones were begun.
The merchants in the different cities raised large sums of money to
build ships by subscription, to be repaid later by the Government, and
everywhere the ship-yards were busy getting ready the new fleet.
Congress declared that the treaties with France were at an end, and
authorized the President to instruct our ships-of-war to seize all
French armed vessels that might be found at sea. Officers were
selected, crews were recruited, and the Marine Corps, which has always
since that day done most efficient service, was first created. A new
Department of the Navy was established as one of the great divisions of
the Government; which showed that all this preparation was not the mere
whim and fancy of the moment, but that the country was at last resolved
to have a naval force which should continue for all time.
The new Secretary of the Navy, Benjamin Stoddert, proposed that a small
force should remain to defend the coast, and that all the other ships
should go to the West Indies, which swarmed with French cruisers and
privateers, and attack the enemy on his own cruising-ground. Thither
they all went in the summer or fall of the year, until we had assembled
there what was for us a powerful force, composed of four squadrons, and
numbering all together more than twenty vessels. The largest of the
squadrons, with the new frigate "United States," of forty-four guns, as
flagship, was placed under the command of John Barry, the story of whose
Revolutionary fights was told in the last chapter, and who had been
chosen by Washington to be the first captain of the new navy to hold the
President's commission. Besides some smaller vessels, Barry had with him
another frigate, the "Constitution," a forty-four like the "United
States," which was destined to become our most famous ship, by winning
in the War of 1812 a succession of splendid victories. The second
squadron, with the 38-gun frigate "Constellation" as flagship, was given
to Captain Truxtun, who had also seen much service in the Revolution
while in command of privateers. The third and fourth were lighter
squadrons. By means of these four detached groups of vessels the ports
and harbors of the West India Islands were closely watched, every nook
and corner was visited, and in the passages between the larger islands,
which form the great highways of commerce, our merchant-ships had convoy
and protection. It was a different kind of service from that of the
earlier war; for our ships now were equal to any frigates in the world,
and the enemy's great fleets of line-of-battle ships were fully occupied
by the war in Europe; while our older officers were veterans who had
passed with credit through their first trial, and the younger could have
no better masters from whom to learn their early lessons.
The first prize of the war was the French privateer "Croyable." The
sloop-of-war "Delaware," under Capt. Stephen Decatur,--not the one who
afterward became so famous, who was then only a midshipman in Barry's
flagship, but his father,--went to sea in June, 1798, and had been out
but a few days when she captured the "Croyable," which had been seizing
several of our vessels on our own coast. She was taken into the navy and
named the "Retaliation," and the command of her was given to Lieut.
William Bainbridge. Bainbridge was a young man who had only been a
merchant captain, but he was a daring fellow,--almost too daring for
prudence, as the result showed; for soon after he had reached the West
Indies with his new command he one day unguardedly approached two French
frigates, the "Insurgente" and the "Volontier," supposing for no good
reason that they were English, and his little ship was quickly captured.
The "Insurgente" was the smartest ship on the West Indian station, and
indeed one of the finest and fastest frigates in the French navy, and
the Government expected great things of Captain Barreault, who was in
command of her. But the captain was destined to disappoint them. Early
in February of the next year, as the "Constellation" was cruising to the
eastward of the island of Nevis, she discovered a large ship to the
southward, and immediately bore down for her. In the old war, when our
officers sighted a large ship, the best thing they could do was to take
to their heels, for the enemy was sure to overmatch them. But the
"Constellation" was a frigate of a different sort from those which we
had sent to sea in the Revolution; and Truxtun, though he believed the
stranger was an enemy, boldly advanced to meet her. She proved to be the
"Insurgente," and soon she hoisted the French flag and fired a challenge
gun to windward.
Though the "Insurgente" hailed him several times, Truxtun made no reply,
but continued to bear down upon her until he was sure that every shot
would tell; then he delivered his whole broadside, and the "Insurgente"
answered him. The fight continued for an hour, the "Constellation"
always gaining the advantage; for Truxtun was a better seaman than
Barreault, and again and again he placed himself where he could rake the
enemy, while she could not reply, her broadside being turned away. The
Americans, too, were better gunners, for they killed and wounded the
"Insurgente's" men, while the Frenchmen, pointing their guns too high,
only damaged the "Constellation's" spars and rigging. At last, after
seventy of the "Insurgente's" crew had fallen, and Truxtun had taken a
position squarely athwart her stern, so that the next broadside would
sweep her decks, she struck her flag and so surrendered.
The "Constellation" had only two men killed in the battle, and one of
these was shot by his own lieutenant, Sterrett, because he saw him
flinching at his gun. One of the midshipmen, a gallant fellow named
David Porter, of whom we shall hear again later, at this time only
eighteen years of age, was stationed in the "Constellation's" fore-top
during the engagement. A cannon-ball struck the topmast above him, and
it was in danger of falling under the weight of yards and sails. The
midshipman hailed the deck, and reported to the officers what had
happened; but they were too busy to send men up to repair the damage. So
Porter, without waiting longer, climbed the mast himself amid a shower
of bullets, and cut away the stoppers, which let the yard go down, and
by this means the mast was saved.
[Illustration: DAVID PORTER.]
After the battle the first lieutenant of the "Constellation," John
Rodgers, was sent on board the prize, with Porter and eleven men, to see
to the removal of the prisoners. A fresh breeze blowing at the time
delayed the work, and soon the night closed in, the wind increased to a
gale, and the ships were separated. There were still one hundred and
seventy of the Frenchmen on board the "Insurgente," with no one but
Lieutenant Rodgers and his handful of men to guard them. Rodgers was a
young man of muscular frame, which is a good thing at such times as
these; and both he and Porter were cool and determined, which is a
better thing. But they had no easy task. The gratings covering the
hatchways had been thrown overboard. There were no means of securing the
prisoners. The spars and rigging and sails of the prize had been cut and
torn, and her decks and sides still bore the marks of battle: and here
was Rodgers separated from the "Constellation," in a gale of wind, with
only his faithful midshipman and eleven seamen, and with nearly two
hundred prisoners who knew the weakness of their guards, and who were
ready for any effort that would help them to retake the ship.
Difficult as his position was, Rodgers proved himself equal to it. He
stationed a sentry at each hatchway with musket and pistols, ordering
them to shoot the first man that attempted to come on deck, and with the
other men he took care of the ship. For three sleepless days and
nights--for neither he nor Porter could snatch a moment's rest--he
sailed this way and that, almost at the mercy of the storm, and finally
brought the vessel into St. Kitt's, whither the "Constellation" had gone
before him.
During the next six months the war--for such we may call it, though in
truth it was only a series of reprisals for injuries received--continued
with unabated vigor. Nothing could show more clearly the importance of a
navy than these same reprisals of 1798 and 1799. During the twelve
months ending in July of the latter year many privateers of greater or
less force had been taken, and France was now more ready to treat on
equal terms. The frigate "United States," still under Barry, was
selected to take out the new envoys sent by our Government to Paris, and
her place on the windward station was taken by the "Constellation,"
Commodore Talbot in the "Constitution" relieving Truxtun at St. Domingo.
New ships were sent out to both squadrons, which were instructed to go
on with their captures in order that the French might see that we were
in earnest and would put up with no more trifling.
Our merchant-ships still needed protection, for the privateers continued
their aggressions, and besides the privateers there were in the West
Indies many small armed vessels belonging to no State in particular,
whose business was to seize and plunder anything they could. These last
were little better than pirates, who made this or that island or bay a
place of refuge for the moment, and were ready to change their character
according to the ships that they fell in with. To serve against these
picaroons, as they were called, two small but swift schooners were
built,--the "Enterprise" and the "Experiment." They carried twelve guns
each, and were exactly what was needed for the purpose. The "Enterprise"
alone during her short cruise captured nine vessels carrying all
together more than seventy guns and five hundred men; and besides this
she recaptured eleven American merchantmen, and beat off a Spanish brig
which sought to attack her. This was more than any of the frigates had
accomplished.
The severest action of the war was yet to come, and this fell also to
the lot of the "Constellation." In February, 1800, just a year after
his fight with the "Insurgente," Commodore Truxtun was cruising to the
west of Guadeloupe, when he came in sight of the "Vengeance," a heavy
French frigate of the largest size, carrying fifty guns. Although she
was much more than a match for Truxtun, she avoided an engagement and
made sail to leave him. Truxtun without hesitation followed in pursuit;
but the chase lasting several hours, it was twilight before he came up
with her. Then he hoisted his ensign, lighted his battle lanterns, and
gave his orders not to throw away a single charge of powder, but to take
good aim, firing directly into the enemy's hull, loading with two round
shot, and now and then a round shot and a stand of grape; and he told
his officers "to encourage the men at their quarters, and to cause or
suffer no noise or confusion, but to load and fire as fast as possible,
when it could be done with certain effect."
As the commodore approached, his guns loaded and his gunners ready and
waiting, he stood in the lee gangway to speak the "Vengeance," and
demand her surrender to the United States of America. But at that
instant she opened a fire from her stern and quarter guns directed at
his spars and rigging. Truxtun gained a position on her weather quarter,
and returned the enemy's salute; and now for five long hours of the
tropical night the battle raged, a running fight, the two vessels
keeping side by side within pistol-shot. The "Constellation's" gunners,
bearing in mind their orders, planted one hundred and eighty shot in the
enemy's hull; but their guns were light, and they could not inflict a
fatal wound upon the great frigate's heavy side. But the slaughter on
the Frenchman's decks was fearful, for fully one third of his crew lay
killed or wounded. Three times his flag was struck during the battle,
but in the darkness of the night it was not seen, and there was no
cessation of the combat.
[Illustration: "IT WAS TWILIGHT BEFORE HE CAME UP WITH HER."]
At last, about an hour after midnight, the enemy was silenced, and no
answer came from his fifty guns. Both ships were still under way, the
"Vengeance" sheering off; and Truxtun, knowing that the fight was over,
was about to follow her as well as his torn and ragged sails would
enable him, when he learned that all the rigging of the mainmast had
been shot away, and that the mast was tottering. The men were called to
repair the rigging and secure the mast; but it was too late, they could
not save it. The officer of the maintop was James Jarvis, the youngest
midshipman on board the ship. With him was an old blue-jacket, who told
him of the danger they were in because the mast must surely go. But
little Jarvis had been stationed by his captain in the top, and he only
answered: "I cannot leave my station; if the mast goes, we must go with
it."
So the mast fell: and Jarvis, the midshipman who would not leave his
post, fell with it and was killed,--the only officer who perished in the
action.
The "Constellation's" loss, all told, was forty killed and wounded. The
"Vengeance," which she had so nearly captured, arrived a few days later
at Curaçao in great distress, and almost a wreck.
In memory of this great battle, one of the most obstinate that our navy
ever fought, Congress passed a resolution which should be read by all
who care that gallant deeds should be remembered. This was the
resolution:--
"_Resolved_, by the Senate and House of Representatives of the
United States of America in Congress assembled, That the
President of the United States be requested to present to
Captain Thomas Truxtun a golden medal, emblematical of the late
action between the United States frigate 'Constellation,' of
thirty-eight guns, and the French ship-of-war 'La Vengeance,'
of fifty-four, in testimony of the high sense entertained by
Congress of his gallantry and good conduct in the above
engagement, wherein an example was exhibited by the captain,
officers, sailors, and marines, honorable to the American name,
and instructive to its rising navy.
"_And it is further Resolved_, That the conduct of James
Jarvis, a midshipman in said frigate, who gloriously preferred
certain death to an abandonment of his post, is deserving of
the highest praise, and that the loss of so promising an
officer is a subject of national regret."
[Illustration: THOMAS TRUXTUN,--FROM MEDAL VOTED BY CONGRESS.]
The active occupations of the navy in the West Indies continued for the
next eight months, its last important capture being the fine corvette
"Berceau," which yielded after a two hours' fight to Captain Little, in
the "Boston." Already, a month before, the treaty with France had been
concluded, and after it was ratified, a vessel was sent to the station
with orders of recall for the whole squadron. During its service there
it had taken or destroyed over ninety French vessels, mounting in all
more than seven hundred guns, and had recaptured numbers of Americans.
Among its trophies there were the frigate "Insurgente" and the corvette
"Berceau," and not the least splendid chapter in its record was the long
battle between the "Constellation" and the "Vengeance;" while in the two
years but one ship had been lost,--the little schooner "Retaliation,"
and that was only a recapture.
It was this work of the navy which gained us the respect of France, from
which State we had hitherto received only threats and insolence: and it
teaches us the lesson that it is to our navy that we must always look in
times like these to secure for us a proper treatment and consideration
from domineering foreign powers. It would be well for us Americans,
especially those who are ready to cry down the navy, to take to heart
these words of the President, which he said in November, 1800, but which
are just as true to-day, and which will be true to the end of time:--
"Seasonable and systematic arrangements, so far as our
resources will justify, for a navy adapted to defensive war,
which may, in case of necessity, be QUICKLY BROUGHT INTO USE,
seem to be as much recommended by a wise and true economy as by
a just regard for our future tranquillity, for the safety of
our shores, and for the protection of our property committed to
the ocean."
CHAPTER VII.
TRIPOLI.
The truth of President Adams's words was shown the very next year after
they were uttered, when new difficulties arose with the Barbary Powers.
We have seen how the old difficulties with Algiers had been settled, at
least for a time, by a treaty which cost the Government a million. Under
this treaty we agreed to send every year to the Dey of Algiers a present
of naval stores of the value of twelve thousand sequins, or about twenty
thousand dollars. In the autumn of 1800 this present--or tribute, as it
was well called, for it was little else than a tribute--was carried to
Algiers by the ship "George Washington," commanded by Captain
Bainbridge. While his ship was lying in the port, the Dey commanded
Bainbridge to go to Constantinople with an Algerine ambassador and
presents for the Sultan of Turkey; for Algiers was then a vassal of the
Ottoman Porte, although the Porte allowed the Dey to do much as he
pleased in most things. It was a grievous outrage that a ship of the
United States should be compelled to do such a service for a barbarian
prince; but there is no doubt that Bainbridge chose the better part in
complying with the demand. Though sometimes rash in war, he was wise
and prudent in diplomacy; and as our Government, by yielding to the
clamor of the Algerines for tribute, instead of chastising them for
their outrageous conduct, had pointed out the line of action that it
meant to follow, Bainbridge was right in conforming to the same rule. If
he refused, unnumbered evils might happen: our unprotected commerce
would be swept away; more of our countrymen would be captured and
enslaved, or kept for years confined in dungeons; and fresh payments
must be made for ransom. So he went to Constantinople.
It was then the rule--and it still is, for that matter--that foreign
ships-of-war wishing to enter the Turkish straits of the Dardanelles and
Bosphorus must first ask and receive permission from the Sultan.
Bainbridge, who felt that he had had enough humiliation on the voyage,
did not stop for this, but passing by the forts at night, anchored
unannounced in the harbor of Constantinople; and here he lay, flying a
strange flag which no one in the place had ever seen borne by a ship of
war.
A Turkish officer was sent off to find out to whom this new craft
belonged, and Bainbridge in reply told him, "the United States." When
this was translated by the interpreter, and reported to the Turkish
officials on shore, they shook their heads,--thinking the national
appellation somewhat vague, as perhaps it is,--and sent a second time to
gain more definite information. Bainbridge now answered that he came
from "the New World." This statement seemed greatly to impress the
Turks, and the ship was piloted into the inner port, and Captain
Bainbridge and his officers were treated thereafter with deep respect,
as was becoming toward any one who came from so remarkable a region.
When the "George Washington" had fulfilled her mission and had returned
to Algiers, the captain found that the Dey had suddenly declared war
against France, and had ordered all the French in his dominions to be
put in prison. The foreign consuls, seconded by Bainbridge, implored the
Dey to revoke his cruel order; and they were so far successful that he
consented to put off its execution for forty-eight hours. But the Dey
swore by his beard that if every soul--man, woman, and child--that
belonged to France had not departed by that time from his territories,
he would put in irons those that remained. The "George Washington" was
at the moment the only ship in the harbor, and she was shifting ballast
in the mole. But Bainbridge would not leave the Frenchmen to their fate;
and by working night and day with all his officers and men he got the
ship ready, took the fugitives on board, and sailed away, glad to get
out of the clutches of this Oriental despot. He had no time to spare;
for in less than an hour after his departure the limit had expired.
Sixty Frenchmen were thus rescued by the captain's efforts, and after a
short passage they were safely landed at Alicant, and the "George
Washington" returned home.
About this time a new and very serious trouble began with another of the
Barbary powers. This was Tripoli. When the Pasha of Tripoli had made his
treaty with the United States some years before, he had received a large
amount of money, but no agreement had been made for tribute. As soon,
however, as the Pasha found that the Americans were sending every year a
shipload of presents to Algiers, of whose power he was always jealous,
he became enraged beyond all bounds; and he wrote to the President
insolent letters demanding money and arms and naval stores. In one of
these he said:--
"We could wish that these your expressions were followed by
deeds, and not by empty words. You will therefore endeavor to
satisfy us by a good manner of proceeding. We on our part will
correspond with you with equal friendship, as well in words as
deeds. But if only flattering words are meant, without
performance, every one will act as he finds convenient."
As no attention was paid to these demands, the Pasha announced to the
American consul that he would declare war; "For paid I will be," he
said, "in one way or another." The consul tried to smooth over the
difficulty, but without success; and on the 14th of May, 1801, just a
week after Bainbridge had landed the French refugees at Alicant, the
Pasha cut down the flagstaff of the American consulate at Tripoli, by
which act he declared war against the United States.
It had been known at home for some time that trouble was brewing at
Tripoli, and as the French war was now entirely over, a squadron was at
this very time fitting out to go to the Mediterranean. It was commanded
by Com. Richard Dale, that gallant veteran of the Revolution who had
been the first lieutenant of the "Bon Homme Richard" in her fight with
the "Serapis." But in this cruise Commodore Dale, though he had a good
squadron, was not allowed to show what he could accomplish; because,
although Tripoli had declared war, Congress had not yet recognized the
fact, and the President was of the opinion that until Congress had
passed an act making a declaration, the navy could not carry on war
against a foreign State. The commodore was therefore prevented by his
orders from capturing any prizes or prisoners; and from this singular
arrangement it resulted, as might be expected, that nothing of any great
importance was accomplished.
One event, however, took place in August of this year which at least
showed the Tripolitans that war with the Americans was no child's play.
That fine little schooner the "Enterprise," which had done such good
service in the West Indies, was one of the ships of Commodore Dale's
squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Sterrett. While cruising about
in the Mediterranean, on the lookout for pirates, she chanced upon a
Tripolitan polacca called the "Tripoli," of about the same force and
size. The Rais or captain who commanded the polacca, Mahomet Sous,
thought he would try the mettle of the American schooner, and made a
furious attack upon her. The Tripolitans fight desperately; for they are
little better than cut-throats, and, as their Pasha says, war is their
trade. But they have not the skill of the Americans. Sterrett placed his
schooner where he pleased. When the battle had fairly begun, he took the
offensive himself; he attacked the enemy on her quarter, on her bow; he
raked her fore and aft. After a bloody fight the "Tripoli" had received
several shot in her side, and was badly cut up in her rigging. Then she
hauled down her flag. The crew of the "Enterprise" left their guns, and
gave three cheers, thinking that the victory was won. But the
Tripolitans, though brave, were treacherous villains, and no sooner was
their enemy off his guard than they hoisted their flag again and opened
fire on the "Enterprise." So the battle began anew. This time the Turks
attempted to board, crowding on the rail with their scimitars. But they
were driven back, and again they made a pretence of surrendering,
only to renew the fight at the first favorable moment.
[Illustration: "CROWDING ON THE RAIL WITH THEIR SCIMITARS."]
The American blue-jackets were now in no humor for trifling. Their blood
was up, for they were indignant at such unheard-of treachery, and it
looked as if there would be no question to settle about prisoners, for
the reason that none of the Tripolitans would be left alive. But the
polacca was by this time in a sinking condition, her mizzen-mast was
shot away, her deck was slippery with blood, and the dead and wounded
were lying about in heaps; and the Rais, Mahomet, himself wounded and
disheartened, convinced that the time had come when neither ferocity nor
fraud could help him, threw his flag into the sea and prostrated himself
upon the rail, begging for quarter. Then Lieutenant Sterrett, who was as
generous as he was gallant, ordered the firing to cease and took
possession of the enemy.
As the polacca could not be made a prize, the Americans cut away her
masts, threw overboard her guns, and left her with the surviving
fragment of her crew to make the best of her way back to Tripoli. Upon
her arrival, the Pasha was so incensed at the news of her defeat that he
had the Rais, wounded as he was, mounted on a jackass and paraded up and
down the streets of the city, after which he was given five hundred
blows of the bastinado. Such was the result of the first fight between
the Americans and their piratical enemy, and it was a long time before
the latter forgot the lesson.
By the autumn of 1801 the terms of enlistment of Dale's crews having
nearly expired, his ships were ordered home, and in the next spring a
new squadron was sent out under Commodore Richard Morris, Congress
having meantime passed an act that was to all intents a declaration of
war. But the new commodore was not an energetic man, nor did he seem to
concern himself much about what was to be done; and a whole year was
passed by the squadron in fruitless cruises among the Mediterranean
ports, sometimes convoying merchantmen, sometimes merely lying in
harbor, but doing little or nothing against the enemy. At the end of
this time the President found it necessary to replace Commodore Morris
by a more active man; and in the summer of 1803 he was ordered home, and
upon his arrival was dismissed the service.
Already the Government had determined to fit out a new squadron, and to
take more vigorous measures against Tripoli; for the people were rightly
impatient at the dallying which had prolonged through two years this war
with a little barbarian State, and it was against the navy that this
impatience was mainly directed. Strange as it may seem, party feeling
had run so high that the gallant exploits of the French war were thought
by many Americans to be the bad results of a mistaken policy, rather
than a source of pride and satisfaction to the country; and the officers
and seamen of the navy, who were then and who have always been the
single-minded and devoted servants of the people, were looked upon
simply as the instruments of an odious party that meanly cringed to
England and sought to embroil us in a war with France. In the last
general election this party had been defeated and broken up, and the
navy came in for a large share of the popular condemnation; which, as we
at this day can clearly see, was exceedingly unjust to the brave men who
composed the service.
Whatever men may have thought and said about the navy, it was evident
that nothing but a naval war would bring Tripoli to terms, and the
Government set about the work in earnest. Four new ships were built,
which, though they were small, were well suited to their purpose,--the
brigs "Argus" and "Siren," and the schooners "Nautilus" and "Vixen." Two
of the larger frigates were sent out,--the "Constitution" forty-four,
and the "Philadelphia" thirty-eight, the latter commanded by Captain
Bainbridge; and last, but not least, one vessel of the old squadron
remained, the schooner "Enterprise," which had already made herself
famous under Sterrett, but which was to acquire still greater fame under
Lieut. Stephen Decatur, who now commanded her.
The new squadron was strong in its ships, but its efficiency was mainly
due to the officer who was ordered to take the chief command, Com.
Edward Preble. Although not an old man, he was one of the few veterans
of the Revolution that were still in the service; and though he had been
a mere lad when he first sailed as a midshipman in the Revolutionary
cruisers of Massachusetts, he had served throughout the war, and had
learned well the lessons of naval discipline. What Paul Jones was in
that war, and what Truxtun was in the West Indies, Preble became in the
campaign against Tripoli,--the central figure of the war. He had around
him the best and bravest of the young officers of the new navy,--as good
as any navy the world has ever seen, but up to this time untried and
unknown,--and it was Preble who in great measure made them what they
afterward became.
Among the first of the new vessels to come out was the "Philadelphia."
She had no sooner arrived in the Mediterranean than she made a most
unexpected discovery. She had left Gibraltar to search for some
Tripolitans that were reported to be cruising somewhere off the coast of
Spain. One evening after dark, off Cape de Gatt, she fell in with two
vessels,--a ship and a brig. Captain Bainbridge hailed the ship, which
proved to be the "Mirboka," a cruiser of Morocco; and allowing her to
suppose that he was English, Bainbridge ordered her to send him her
passports. The Moorish officer who came on board the "Philadelphia" fell
into the snare, and told Bainbridge that the brig which he had with him
was an American. This was an extraordinary piece of news, for Morocco
was then at peace with the United States; yet here was one of her
ships-of-war preying on American commerce. The Moors must have thought
that a State which could not protect its vessels from the attacks of
Tripoli need not be much respected, and that the time was ripe for them
to take a hand in the plundering which their neighbors were carrying on
with such success and profit; so they had sent out their cruisers, and
this was the first that had made a prize. The captured ship was the brig
"Celia," of Boston, whose crew and captain were at that moment confined
in the "Mirboka's" hold, to be carried to Morocco and sold as slaves or
held for ransom. Fortunately Captain Bainbridge had arrived just in time
to rescue the prisoners; and seizing the "Mirboka," he took her with him
to Gibraltar.
[Illustration: COMMODORE EDWARD PREBLE.]
This was the state of affairs when a few weeks later Commodore Preble,
with the "Constitution," came out to take command of the squadron. He
saw the situation at a glance, and he was not a man to hesitate long
about taking action. If the Moors, who had seaports on the Atlantic,
were not put down and the strait opened, it would be of no great use to
clear the inland sea of pirates. The commodore immediately assembled all
his ships, gave them orders to capture every Moorish vessel they could
find, and himself proceeded in the "Constitution" directly to Tangier,
in Morocco. The Emperor was expected to arrive here shortly with his
army. He sent to know whether Preble would fire a salute in his honor.
The commodore sent back his answer by the consul.
"As you think," said he, "it will gratify his imperial Majesty, I shall
salute him and dress ship; and if he is not disposed to be pacific, I
will salute him again!"
The resolute tone which Preble took in this and other communications had
the desired effect. In three days after the Emperor arrived he had
consented to renew the treaty his father had made with the United
States, and had ordered the release of all the Americans that had been
seized, together with their property. At the same time the orders which
had been given to capture American vessels were revoked; whereupon
Preble restored the "Mirboka," and withdrew his own order to seize the
vessels of Morocco. This done, he sailed for Tripoli.
Already the "Philadelphia," with the schooner "Vixen" in company, had
taken her station before the enemy's port, and preparations were made to
maintain a strict blockade. It needed two vessels at least for this
service; for if any accident happened to one alone, she would certainly
be lost, being so far from help and close to the watchful guards of the
enemy's harbor. Nevertheless, immediately after his arrival Captain
Bainbridge heard from a Neapolitan merchantman that one of the enemy's
corsairs had sailed the day before, and he sent the "Vixen" off to find
her.
Next day, it being the 31st of October, a Tripolitan vessel was descried
to the eastward of the city, attempting to work into the harbor. Captain
Bainbridge at once gave chase. The wily Tripolitan kept on his course,
not far from the shore, where he knew the water was full of reefs and
sunken rocks which he could easily avoid, but which he hoped might prove
a trap for his unsuspecting enemy. And so it came about; for the
captain, whose zeal, as we have already seen, was sometimes greater than
his prudence, forgetting the dangers of the treacherous coast, followed
the Tripolitan, with a fair breeze and a good eight-knot speed, until
suddenly the water began to shoal. Then realizing for the first time his
peril, he turned his vessel's head off shore. But it was now too late;
and an instant later the "Philadelphia" had shot up on a sunken reef,
where she hung hard and fast, her great stem and bowsprit pointing
upward in the air.
[Illustration: "HE CUT AWAY THE ANCHORS, ... BUT STILL THE SHIP HUNG
FAST."]
Even now the captain did not lose his confidence, and setting all sail
he tried to force the vessel over; but this only had the effect of
thrusting her higher on the rocks, and making escape more hopeless than
ever. It was clear that this plan would not work. The boats were then
sent out with leadsmen, who found deep water astern of the ship, and the
yards were braced aback, and every one watched anxiously to see if she
would not back off; but she did not move an inch. Then Bainbridge tried
to lighten her. He cut away the anchors and threw overboard the forward
guns, but still the ship hung fast.
Meantime the enemy discovered that their stratagem had proved
successful, and word having been sent to the city, the Tripolitan
galleys could now be seen in motion, evidently preparing to make an
attack upon the helpless frigate. Soon they came out in a long line,
their white lateen sails glistening in the afternoon sunlight, and their
decks crowded with men eager for the splendid prize that chance and
craft, combined with their opponent's over-confidence, had thrown within
their reach. But they were wary, and they remembered the lesson which
Sterrett had given them, that the Americans were stubborn fighters, and
this time they meant to run no risks. Taking up their positions on the
stern and quarter of the "Philadelphia," at a little distance, where no
guns could be brought to bear on them, they opened fire with their heavy
cannon; for each of these gunboats carried a long eighteen or
twenty-four pounder in her bow, and the whole flotilla was a hostile
force not to be despised even by a ship that could manoeuvre.
As it was, the "Philadelphia" had heeled over, and the few guns that
remained on board were useless, even after great holes had been cut
with axes in her side to enable the crews to point them. The enemy fired
high and only cut the spars and rigging; but all the same their ultimate
success was sure if the ship could not get off the reef. In spite of the
shot that rained upon them, the officers did not relax their efforts.
The tanks of water in the hold were pumped out, and finally the foremast
was cut away, carrying with it the main top-gallant mast. But it was all
of no use, for the ship obstinately refused to budge; and as the sun was
sinking in the horizon, Captain Bainbridge, to prevent what seemed
likely to be a useless sacrifice of men, hauled down his colors.
No sooner was the flag lowered than the Tripolitans, setting up a shout,
rowed quickly to the frigate and swarmed on board, over the rail and
through every port-hole. Then there was a scene which has never before
or since been witnessed upon an American ship-of-war. The pirates,
intent first of all on plunder, looted every chest and locker in the
ship. Nor did they stop here. The officers were forced to give them all
that they demanded, and like so many highway robbers they took watches,
epaulets, money; and when all the valuables were given up, coats,
waistcoats, and cravats, until all the prisoners were stripped to their
shirts and trousers. In this condition they were thrust into the boats
and carried to the city. Here they were taken before the Pasha, who was
so much elated by his capture that he received them in high good-humor,
and as he counted over the number,--three hundred and seven officers and
men,--he stroked his beard, and his avaricious eyes glistened as he
thought of the heavy ransom that the United States would have to pay him
before it could get them back. So he ordered them to be well cared for,
and sent the officers to be quartered in the building which before the
war had been the American consulate, where they were to remain during
many months of captivity.
It was bad enough that so many officers and men should have been taken;
but the mischief did not end here. For the next two days the Tripolitans
worked away at the grounded frigate with their gunboats and lighters,
and anchors carried out with hawsers from the stern; and by these means,
with the help of favoring wind and tide, they at last succeeded in
getting the "Philadelphia" off into deep water. Bainbridge, before he
abandoned her, had ordered the carpenters to bore holes in her bottom;
and if this had been well done, she would never have got afloat again.
But the carpenters in their excitement and flurry had only half
performed their task, and the ship was now in the enemy's hands in as
good condition, barring a little needed repair, as she was before the
accident. Even the anchors and guns which had been thrown overboard were
discovered lying on the reef, where the water was only twelve feet deep,
and the Tripolitans got them up without much trouble.
* * * * *
Meantime Commodore Preble, having despatched his business at Morocco to
the great satisfaction of his Government, was now on his way to Tripoli
in the "Constitution." Falling in one day with the British frigate
"Minerva," he received the first news of the disaster; and going
directly to Malta, he found there a letter from Captain Bainbridge
confirming the report. It was a staggering blow to all his hopes at the
very outset of his command. The Tripolitans, who had already become
tired of the war and of the annoyances of the blockade, and whom he had
hoped by resolute attacks speedily to overawe into submission, were
encouraged by this their first great success to renewed efforts. Not
only would they stand more firmly to their previous demands for tribute,
but they would clamor for an enormous ransom for the three hundred
prisoners; and unless they could be utterly crushed, they would get it,
for they had the prisoners in their power, and in some way or other
those three hundred Americans must be set free. The squadron, none too
powerful at the beginning, had now lost one of its two principal
vessels, and the force of the enemy was correspondingly increased. No
wonder that Commodore Preble, writing to the Department of the loss of
the frigate, should say in the bitterness of his heart, "It distresses
me beyond description." But however great his distress, he never yielded
to despondency, and the loss only urged him on to greater efforts to
harass and reduce the enemy.
For the next two months the commodore and all the ships of his squadron
were busy making preparations for the coming campaign. The first blow to
be struck was against the captured frigate, and Preble resolved upon her
destruction from the very moment when he heard of her loss. But he bided
his time, patiently waiting until a good opportunity should arrive.
Meanwhile a rendezvous for the squadron was established at Syracuse. The
"Argus" was stationed at Gibraltar, to watch the Moors and guard the
strait. The other ships were cruising about from point to point, giving
protection and convoy to American vessels, and seizing any Tripolitan
vessels they could find, though there were few of them that dared to
venture out. About Christmas-time the "Enterprise" fell in with one of
these craft, a ketch named the "Mastico," which was on her way to
Constantinople with slaves on board,--a present from the Pasha to his
master the Sultan. The slaves were not a capture of much benefit to the
commodore, but the ketch was; for she had once been a French gunboat,
and he saw how she might be of service in carrying out his most
cherished scheme. So he made a tender of her and called her the
"Intrepid."
All this time the prisoners at Tripoli were not forgotten. The Danish
consul in the city, a kind-hearted and generous man, Nissen by name, was
pleased to do all that he could to help the Americans. Through him
Preble and Bainbridge were enabled to get letters to and from each
other, and supplies were sent from Malta through an agency established
there by the commodore. The secret parts of the letters were written in
sympathetic ink, so that one only saw the writing when the letter was
held before a fire. In this way the commander of the squadron was kept
informed of all that went on in Tripoli, as far as Bainbridge knew it;
and Bainbridge in his turn was much cheered by getting word from time to
time that his friends outside had not forgotten him. He needed it badly,
for what with the loss of his ship, and the gloomy prospect of a long
captivity, he was at this time in great despondency; so that it did him
good to hear from Preble the words the latter wrote in January from
Malta: "Keep up your spirits, and despair not; recollect 'there's a
sweet little cherub that sits up aloft'!"
When Preble returned to Syracuse after this visit to Malta, he had
completed his plan for the destruction of the "Philadelphia."
Lieutenant Decatur, of the "Enterprise," had volunteered to command the
expedition; and although he was very young, and had been only five years
at sea, no better man could have been chosen than this gallant and
true-hearted officer. He was to take the "Intrepid," whose Tripolitan
rig would make a good disguise, and whose small size would enable her
safely to navigate those dangerous waters, and with seventy-five
officers and men to attack the frigate. The "Siren" was to go with him
to support and cover his retreat. It was a perilous enterprise; almost
rash, one would think, for the "Philadelphia" was lying fully armed and
manned in the inner harbor, under the guns of the Pasha's castle and all
the neighboring forts, and around her lay the galleys of the enemy's
flotilla. Decatur took three other lieutenants, Lawrence, Joseph
Bainbridge, whose brother was in prison in Tripoli, and Thorn; and six
midshipmen were told off to go with them. Among these last were Thomas
McDonough, who afterward won the great battle of Lake Champlain in the
war with Great Britain, and Charles Morris, who in the same war was
first lieutenant of the "Constitution" in her fight with the
"Guerrière." Morris was at this time a boy of nineteen; and I shall tell
the story of the attack as nearly as may be in his words.
A Maltese pilot, Catalano, who knew the harbor of Tripoli, and who could
speak the language, had been engaged to go with the expedition. When the
two vessels arrived off Tripoli, the wind was fresh and the sky
lowering, and all seemed to threaten a storm. The "Siren" and "Intrepid"
anchored under cover of the night, and Morris and the pilot were sent in
with a boat to see if the passage to the harbor was safe, of which the
pilot was doubtful. They found the surf breaking in a long line of
foaming waves across the entrance, and Morris coming back reported that
it would be dangerous to make the attempt. "It was a severe trial," said
the poor boy, "to make such a report. I had heard many of the officers
treat the doubts of the pilot as the offspring of apprehension, and the
weather was not yet so decidedly boisterous as to render it certain that
an attempt might not be made, notwithstanding our report; should such be
the case, and should it succeed, the imputations upon the pilot might be
repeated upon me, and, unknown as I was, might be the cause of my ruin
in the estimation of my brother officers." Still, in spite of their
murmurs of dissatisfaction, Morris, being a brave and independent lad,
stood firm in his opinion, and the attempt was given up.
It was well that this was done; for before morning a furious gale had
come up, and the ships, with difficulty getting away from the shore,
were driven far to the eastward. For six days the storm continued, the
officers and men being all this time cooped up in the little ketch with
hardly room to breathe, and overrun with vermin which the slaves had
left behind them. The midshipmen slept on the top of the water-casks on
the lower deck, while the sailors were berthed in the same way in the
hold.
At last the wind abated, and on the 16th of February the ships were once
more in sight of Tripoli. The breeze was light and the sea smooth, and
the "Intrepid" stood in slowly toward the town. The "Siren" stayed
outside to lull suspicion; but in spite of all precautions she was seen
and noticed from the harbor. The plan was for the "Siren's" boats to
come in after dark and join in the attack. All through the afternoon
the "Intrepid" kept on sailing slowly in, her drags in the water astern
checking her headway so that she might not reach the town too early. Her
crew remained below, that no suspicion might be roused by the unusual
numbers, and only six or eight, dressed as Maltese, were allowed to come
on deck. As the sun went down, the breeze grew fainter; and Decatur,
fearing that if he delayed longer he might not be able with the light
wind to reach the frigate, decided that he would not wait for the
"Siren's" boats, saying to his officers, like Henry V. at Agincourt,
"The fewer the number, the greater will be the honor."
It was now dark, and the lights could be seen glittering in the houses
of the town and on the boats in the harbor, throwing bright reflections
over the water. The last preparations were made on board the "Intrepid,"
and the officers, speaking in low tones, told each man once more his
allotted duties, and cautioned all to steadiness and silence. The
watchword for the night was "Philadelphia," by which they were to
recognize one another in the confusion of the attack. There was no need
to enjoin silence, for each man was busy with his own thoughts. "My
own," said Morris, "were now reverting to friends at home, now to the
perils we were about to meet. Should I be able to justify the
expectations of the former by meeting properly the dangers of the
latter?" These thoughts, mixed with calculations to get a good place in
boarding, were passing through the minds of all as they waited in
breathless expectation.
Gradually the "Intrepid" was borne along by the gentle breeze toward the
inner basin. Her boat was towed astern. The young moon gave light enough
to show her movements, but nothing could be seen upon her deck except
Decatur and the pilot standing at the wheel, and here and there a man
whose Maltese cap and jersey gave no indication of his hostile
character. From end to end of the little ship the rest of the crew,
crouching under the shadow of the bulwarks, were lying concealed from
view, each man with his eye fixed on Decatur, waiting for him to give
the order. Before them could be seen the white walls of the city and the
forts.
[Illustration: "THE LIGHTS COULD BE SEEN GLITTERING IN THE HOUSES."]
The first battery is now passed in silence, every man holding his
breath. Right in the path of the "Intrepid" towers the "Philadelphia,"
with her great black hull and lofty spars, and around her lies the
circle of batteries. The little craft speeds on noiselessly, steering
directly for the frigate. Suddenly the anxious silence is broken by a
hail from the enemy demanding the name and purpose of the ketch, and
ordering her to keep away. Among the officers and men stretched on the
deck can be seen the eager movements of heads bending forward to hear
the colloquy. The pilot, speaking the language of the country, answers
for Decatur, who prompts him in low tones. He says that he has lost his
anchors in the gale,--which, as it happened, was the truth,--and asks to
be allowed to run a hawser to the frigate and to ride by her during the
night. To this the captain of the "Philadelphia" consents, and the ketch
is approaching, when suddenly the wind shifts, blowing lightly from the
ship, and leaves the "Intrepid" at rest not twenty yards away,
motionless under the enemy's guns.
It is a moment of terrible suspense. The least mistake, the least
disturbance or excitement, must mean detection, and detection now will
seal the fate of all. But Decatur has that perfect calmness and
clearness of judgment which is the highest bravery. There is no flurry.
In his low quiet voice he orders the boat manned. His calmness calms the
men, and with an air of lazy indolence they get in and take the oars,
carrying a rope to another boat which meets them from the frigate. The
work is done in silence; the ends are fastened, and the boat returns.
The hawser is passed along the deck; the crew lying on it pull
noiselessly, and the ketch slowly, slowly but surely, nears her place
and lies fast alongside the enemy.
Suddenly a piercing cry breaks the stillness. "_Americanos!_ The
Americans are upon us!" The enemy has now discovered the disguise. But
at the same moment Decatur's voice is heard ringing out, "Board!" and he
and Morris, who has been watching him, leap to the enemy's deck.
Springing to their feet as one man, the crew follow them, each with his
cutlass and pistol. The Tripolitans are panic-struck; for a moment they
huddle in a frightened crowd on the forecastle. One instant Decatur
pauses to form his men, and then at their head he dashes at the enemy.
The few who stay to offer resistance are cut down; one is made prisoner;
the rest, driven to the bow, leap from the rail into the water.
The ship is now captured, and the victorious crew hurry to their
appointed stations. Two parties are told off to the berth-deck, one to
the forward store-rooms, and one under Morris to the cockpit. Each
prepares its supply of combustibles, and when all is reported ready, the
order is given to set fire. This done, each party leaves the ship, but
Morris and his men barely escape through the smoke and flame with which
the lower deck is already filled. Decatur, standing on the
Philadelphia's rail, while the smoke rises around him and the flames
are bursting from her ports, waits till the last man has returned, and
as the "Intrepid's" head swings off, he leaps into her rigging.
[Illustration: "THE 'PHILADELPHIA' LIGHTS THEM ON THEIR WAY."]
By this time all the Tripolitans have caught the alarm, and from
batteries and gunboats in quick succession, all around the wide sweep of
the harbor, are seen the sudden jets of flame followed by clouds of
smoke, and the shores resound with the roar of cannon. One hundred guns
are firing upon the little ketch, whose white sails are lighted up by
the flames of the burning frigate. The harbor is a circle of fire, and
the gallant band seem doomed to pay the penalty of rashness. The frigate
is herself a source of danger, for her magazine must soon explode. But
the crew of the "Intrepid," after giving three rousing cheers for their
success, man the long sweeps and head their vessel seawards. The
"Philadelphia," which reveals them to the enemy, lights them on their
way. Her appearance is magnificent. The flames illuminate her ports, and
mounting up the rigging and masts form columns of fire, which, meeting
the tops, branch out in beautiful capitals. Behind her, thrown out into
strong light by the burning ship, are the city walls and roofs, with
dome and minaret rising above them,--bright points against the sky.
The guns of the "Philadelphia" commanding the harbor have been loaded
and double-shotted. As the fire reaches them they are discharged, but
their missiles do more injury among the Tripolitans than among their
foes. The "Intrepid" seems to bear a charmed life under the converging
fire of the enemy. The cannon-balls fall thickly in the water, ahead,
astern, alongside, throwing up columns of spray; but only one shot
touches her, and all the harm that does is to make a hole in her
top-gallant-sail. A favoring breeze now springs up, and aided by the
strong arms of the rowers at their sweeps, the ketch is carried out of
range, and in a short time she has reached the open sea and joined her
consort.
* * * * *
Meantime in the squadron lying at Syracuse the officers and men, and
above all the commodore, had undergone profound anxiety. It had been
thought that a week, or ten days at most, would be sufficient time for
the two vessels to accomplish their work and return to the station. But
as the time wore on and day after day passed by, the hopes of all began
to turn to apprehension; for no one knew that for a week after they
reached the enemy's coast the "Siren" and "Intrepid" had been driving
about before the gale, their efforts for the moment directed only
against the elements. Each day the horizon was scanned by the lookouts
aloft, and as the second week came to an end with no sign of the
expedition, the most hopeful shook their heads, and all were filled with
a sense of dull foreboding. But on the morning of the fifteenth day the
fleet was startled by the cry of "Sail ho!" from the mast-head, and
every face peered anxiously toward the southern horizon. First one ship
was seen, then two; and as they came nearer, and little by little their
spars and rig could be distinguished, the hope that they might prove to
be the missing vessels grew slowly into certainty.
Now a signal could be descried from the "Siren's" mast-head. What did it
mean? Was it success, or failure? At length there was no doubt; and when
from alternations of despair and hope the news was spread that Decatur
had successfully achieved his purpose, and that the "Philadelphia" was
indeed destroyed, the men's excitement knew no bounds, and cheer upon
cheer of welcome and of exultation went up from all the vessels.
[Illustration: STEPHEN DECATUR.]
One thing is certain: that no exploit of our navy since that time has
surpassed in bravery and finished excellence this of Decatur,--"the most
bold and daring act of the age," as it was called by Nelson, then
commanding the fleet off Toulon. The commodore wrote his despatch to the
Department, asking that Decatur might immediately be raised to the same
grade as himself; and when the Government heard the news, it lost no
time in granting Preble's generous request. In this way it came about
that young Decatur, though barely five-and-twenty, became a post-captain
in the navy, which he had entered less than six years before; and among
all the officers of Preble's squadron, who were in all things like a
band of brothers, there was not one that grudged him his promotion.
* * * * *
After the destruction of the "Philadelphia" the commodore desisted for
the time from further enterprises; for it was now midwinter, and at this
stormy season the dangers of the rocky coast made it imprudent to
attempt active operations against the enemy. But there was no slackening
in preparations for the campaign of the next summer, and meantime the
blockade was maintained with strictness. By this means was captured a
brig of sixteen guns which belonged to the Tripolitan consul at Malta,
and which was seeking to smuggle powder and other contraband into the
enemy's port. The prize was re-named the "Scourge" and taken into the
service, making a useful addition to the squadron.
All this time the commodore was on the alert,--at Syracuse, Messina,
Malta, Naples, as occasion called him, but never long in one place. At
one time he appeared off Tripoli and gave the Pasha an opportunity to
reduce his terms; but the Pasha, sulking after the loss of the
"Philadelphia," would not yield one jot in his demands. The commodore
next took three of his ships to Tunis, to quiet threatening
demonstrations in that quarter, and to let the Bey know that the
Americans, though occupied with Tripoli, still had time to keep an eye
fixed upon him. Some of the vessels needed repairs, and these were in
turn attended to. The weakness of the squadron in small gunboats,
wherein lay so much of the enemy's strength, was a source of great
concern; and Preble in his letters to the Department entreated that
permission might be given him to buy or build them in the Mediterranean
ports. But to this the Government would not consent; and Preble, as a
last resort, went to Naples and obtained from the King of the two
Sicilies, who was an enemy of the Tripolitans, a loan of six gunboats
and two bomb-vessels, or mortar-boats, as we should call them now. They
were not very seaworthy or efficient, and "required careful nursing," as
the commodore said. "However," he added in his report to the Department,
"as they were the best I could obtain, I have thought it for the good of
our service to employ them, particularly as the weather in July and
August is generally pleasant, and without them my force is too small to
make any impression upon Tripoli."
* * * * *
At last all the preparations were completed, and the commodore toward
the end of July set out to begin operations against the city. His whole
force consisted of one frigate, three brigs, three schooners, and the
eight small gunboats and mortar-boats which he had borrowed at Naples.
Taking these last, the "Constitution," "Nautilus," and "Enterprise" set
out from Syracuse, and arriving before Tripoli were joined by the
blockading squadron, composed of the "Argus," the "Siren," the "Vixen,"
and the "Scourge." The ships made a brave display as they all appeared
before the enemy's city; but in reality they were an insufficient force
to bring to the attack of such a place, with its hundred guns protected
behind massive walls, its fleet of nineteen gunboats, and its army on
shore of twenty-four thousand soldiers. For they were desperate
fighters, these Turkish bandits, when it came to a hand-to-hand
conflict, as we have already seen from their fight with Sterrett; and in
all the American fleet there were not above one thousand men. But the
assailants were strong in one thing, and that was in their officers.
Young as the officers were, they counted among their numbers the flower
of the navy. There were Somers and the two Decaturs,--Stephen and James;
Lawrence, the brave captain of the "Chesapeake" in the War of 1812;
Hull, who captured the "Guerrière;" Stewart, who took the "Cyane" and
the "Levant;" Charles Morris, Macdonough, Warrington, Blakely, Spence,
Henley,--all of them preparing now for the greater war that was to come,
in which they were to win new renown for the navy and the country. They
believed in their commander-in-chief, who they knew would lead them to
victory if any man could. They believed too in each other, and they
fought side by side like true and generous comrades.
For several days the wind blew violently on shore and prevented any
active operations. The ships hastened to gain an offing; but the gale
increased, and on the last day, when it was at its height, the gunboats
pitching and tossing in the heavy sea seemed on the point of foundering.
The foresail and main-topsail of the frigate, though close-reefed, were
blown out into ribbons from the bolt-ropes. Fortunately before any worse
accident happened the gale subsided, and the squadron was once more able
to approach the town.
At last came the 3d of August,--a day ever memorable in the annals of
our naval history. There was a light breeze blowing from the southeast
as the squadron stood in slowly for the town, whose white walls,
surmounted by glistening mosques and minarets, and surrounded by gardens
and groves of palms, seemed to the Americans like some fabled city of
old myths, which they were always approaching and which never could be
reached. There is no fable about it on this day, however. Within these
walls are three hundred of their companions confined in prison by a
barbarian despot who calls himself a Pasha, but who is little better
than the leader of a gang of pirates. His hundred cannon are frowning
from the walls, his batteries are manned, and his fleet of galleys is
drawn up in battle order outside the bristling line of rocks that covers
the entrance of the harbor. They are there to have a fight, and the
commodore is not a man to balk them in their purpose.
The fleet is now advancing, the bombs and gunboats still in tow.
Presently the ships wear, with their heads off shore. The Pasha, on the
battlements of his castle, surrounded by his courtiers, is watching the
movements of the Americans, and says to his officers, "They will mark
their distance for tacking; they are a sort of Jews, who have no notion
of fighting." But he is going to find out before night. The ships are
now passing within hail of the commodore, and each captain is receiving
his final orders for the attack. Officers and men are transferred from
the larger vessels to the gunboats. The latter are arranged in two
divisions,--the first under Somers, the second under Decatur. There are
only six of them in all, and they are to attack nineteen of the enemy,
while the mortar-boats shell the town, and the "Constitution" and her
attendant brigs and schooners deliver their broadsides at the
batteries.
At half-past one in the afternoon, the ships, wearing in succession, are
headed for the batteries. As they approach silently and steadily, the
bombs and gunboats are cast off. The batteries give no sign of life,
there is no sound to break the stillness of the clear midsummer
afternoon; and looking at the picture as the sun shines peacefully from
the bright blue sky upon the white city walls, and the ships under their
clouds of canvas, and the sparkling waters, one can hardly fancy that in
a few moments it will be transformed into a scene of mortal combat.
At length the bombs have taken their position and come to anchor, and
the signal for battle is displayed at the mast-head of the
"Constitution." Each of the mortars flings out a little curling puff of
smoke. An instant later, with a deafening din and uproar, all the guns
in the squadron and in the batteries on shore, as if directed by one
man, have opened fire with their heavy round shot. The gunboats, led by
Decatur and Somers, dash out against the enemy, and soon they are lost
to view beneath the smoke of battle.
The cannonade continues. Meantime Somers, though his boat is a dull
sailer, by dint of hard work with the sweeps has reached the enemy's
rear division, and single-handed as he is drives them in confusion
behind the rocks. Decatur, followed by his brother James, by Trippe, and
by the younger Bainbridge, attacks the van. The bowsprits have been
unshipped so that there will be nothing to impede the boarders, for it
is by boarding that Decatur means to gain his prizes. Bainbridge in his
advance loses his lateen yard by a shot, and can only support the
attacking column from a distance. Trippe dashes up alongside one of the
enemy's boats crying out, "Board!" and leaps over the rail, followed by
Henley, his midshipman, and nine of his crew. The others are about to
jump, when the boats fall apart. It is hot work for the little handful
of Americans. The enemy is more than three times their number. But there
is no time for thought, and without a second's hesitation the boarders
make a rush upon the crew of the galley with pike and cutlass. For a few
minutes the struggle is desperate. Trippe singles out the leader, a tall
and well-built Turk, as his own antagonist. As he comes up, the Turk
makes a swift cut at him with his scimitar; but Trippe parries the blow
skilfully with his sword, receiving only a slight wound. Stroke after
stroke descends, as the enemy, swinging his curved blade with the
rapidity of lightning, cuts savagely at his opponent. But Trippe is a
cool and expert fencer, and though he is gashed and cut again and again,
he holds his ground until he has passed his weapon through the body of
the Turk. His companions, in the fury of their attack, have killed
thirteen of the enemy; and though there are still more than twenty left,
the rest seeing their leader fall are panic-struck and fall on their
faces begging for mercy. Trippe carries off with him eleven honorable
scars, and three of his men are wounded; but none have fallen, and the
Tripolitan gunboat is a prize.
Meanwhile the two Decaturs, in the other gunboats, are not idle. The
elder, Stephen, runs on board the largest of the enemy's boats, taking
with him his whole crew of Americans, twenty-three in number, and
leaving the Neapolitan gunners to guard his boat. For ten minutes they
are fighting pellmell on the enemy's decks,--another bloody hand-to-hand
encounter with the same result. Despite their numbers, the Turks cannot
resist the impetuous charge of the Americans. Many of them are killed,
some jump into the sea, a few rush in terror to the hold, the rest
surrender. The flag is lowered, and Decatur takes his prize in tow, to
draw her out of the battle.
At this moment Lieut. James Decatur's gunboat comes up under his stern
and he learns that his brother, after receiving the surrender of one of
the galleys, has been shot through the head by her commander. Decatur
has left most of his crew on board the prize, but he does not stop to
think of that; his brother has been murdered by a treacherous enemy, and
he must meet the Turk and exact from him the penalty. The boat is
pointed out; she has taken refuge within the enemy's line. But this is
nought to Decatur. Plunging into their midst, he finds himself beside
the object of his search, and in a moment he has leaped upon the
galley's deck. He does not look to see whether he is followed; but young
Macdonough has joined his leader with a handful of men, and at his side
they charge the enemy. As Decatur rushes upon the Turkish captain, the
latter makes a thrust at him with a boarding pike. Decatur parries with
his cutlass, but the blade breaks at the hilt. The Turk makes another
lunge, and this time wounds Decatur in the breast. The American wrenches
the weapon from his antagonist, and they grapple and fall to the deck,
Decatur uppermost. At this moment another Tripolitan makes a cut with
his scimitar at Decatur's head; but as the weapon is raised in the air a
young blue-jacket, Reuben James, whose name will ever be remembered for
this act of self-devotion, since he cannot stop the blow with his
wounded arms, stoops down and intercepts it with his head.
The fight now goes on around the two prostrate captains. The active and
sinewy Turk, making one last effort, turns and gets Decatur under him.
Drawing a knife from its sheath, he is about to bury it in the captain's
throat. But Decatur is as cool as he is valiant. Seizing the Turk's
uplifted arm with a grip like iron, he feels with his right hand for the
pistol in his pocket. Quickly it is cocked, and without drawing it,
Decatur aims and fires. The dagger drops from the Turk's hand, and his
body, limp and lifeless, rolls over on the deck. Another prize has been
captured, and Decatur has avenged his brother's death.
While the gunboats are thus actively engaged, the ships keep up a steady
cannonade. Twice the reserve division of the enemy, stationed behind the
rocks, endeavors to come out, and by rallying and supporting the
defeated rear, to renew the contest; but each time it is covered and
checked by the guns of the "Constitution," and after losing three more
galleys which are sunk by the frigate's fire, it gives up the attempt.
Presently the wind comes out from the northward, freshening, and the
gunboats are signalled to retire from action. The "Constitution," now
only two cables' length from the batteries, tacks, and firing two
broadsides in stays, drives the Tripolitans from the castle and sends a
minaret in the town crashing down about the people's heads. The
gunboats, bringing with them their three prizes, rejoin the squadron.
The commodore sends his barge to bring Lieut. James Decatur on board the
flag-ship, and he is tenderly lifted in and rowed swiftly to the
frigate. He lies in the stern-sheets, his head in Morris's lap, and with
him is his brother. But his strength is going fast, and he dies before
they reach the ship.
The squadron now takes the gunboats and bombs in tow, and all the ships
stand out to sea. The last gun has been fired, the batteries are silent,
and the first attack on Tripoli is ended.
* * * * *
Soon after the battle of the 3d of August Commodore Preble received a
letter from the French consul intimating that the Pasha would be ready
to lower his terms and treat for peace. But the commodore refused to
make the first advances, and on the 7th he was ready for another attack.
The enemy's gunboats wisely kept their stations within the rocks, where
it would have been folly to engage them, and the attack was directed
only against the town and batteries.
The bombs were ordered to take their position in a bay to the westward
and throw shells into the city, while the gunboats, now increased to
nine by the addition of the three prizes, were to silence a heavy
battery that commanded the entrance to the bay. At nine in the morning
the "Constitution" lay at anchor six miles from the city. The smaller
vessels lay three miles within her. It was nearly calm, but with a
strong current setting in to the eastward. The gunboats and bombs
advanced slowly to the attack with sails and oars. The "Constitution"
had her top-sails set ready for the first breeze; and at half-past one,
when a light wind sprang up from the northeast, she weighed and stood
in. As the wind was on shore, it was imprudent for any of the larger
vessels to join in the movement; for if a mast were shot away, it would
be almost impossible to save the ship.
At half-past two, signal was made to begin the attack, and the bombs and
gunboats opened a heavy fire upon the town, to which the batteries
replied. In a short time the walls of the seven-gun battery were nearly
demolished. The small vessels kept their stations steadily under an
annoying fire. Suddenly on board one of the prize gunboats was seen a
burst of flame followed by a terrific crash; a hot shot had passed
through the magazine and exploded it. The young commander of the
gunboat, Lieutenant Caldwell, and Dorsey, one of the midshipmen who
stood with him on the quarter-deck, with all the seamen near them, were
killed, and the stern of the boat was blown to atoms. In the bow was the
gun's crew under Midshipman Robert Spence. The crew had just loaded the
gun, and for a moment stood paralyzed, as the boat was sinking fast.
"All right, boys!" sung out Spence as he coolly pointed the gun. "We'll
give them one more, any way. Fire!"
_Crack!_ went the gun.
"Now, then, three rousing cheers for the flag! Hip, hip, hurrah!" The
gallant tars gave three cheers, and the boat sank from under them.
Spence, who could not swim, seized an oar as he plunged into the water,
and so kept himself up until help came to him from one of the boats near
by. In this way were rescued all whom the explosion had left alive.
The eight remaining gunboats, which though here and there cut up were
not disabled, continued the action until late in the afternoon, when the
freshening wind warned the squadron to retire. During the engagement a
strange sail had been seen to the northward, and the "Argus" was sent in
chase. It proved to be the frigate "John Adams," Captain Chauncey,--the
first ship of the new squadron that was coming out from the United
States. Unfortunately she had left her gun-carriages to be brought out
by the other ships, so that she could not be used for active operations.
Still more unfortunately it turned out that the authorities at
Washington, who were somewhat given to red-tape, had thought it
necessary to send an officer in command of the squadron of reinforcement
who was higher in rank than Preble, and who would therefore upon his
arrival replace the latter in the command. It was a cruel blow to the
commodore to be cast aside after having done so much where others had
accomplished little; and in his private journal, written with his own
hand in the solitude of his cabin, and meant only for his own eye, we
find these words:--
"How much my feelings are lacerated by this supersedure at the
moment of victory cannot be described, and can be felt only by
an officer placed in my mortifying situation."
At first the commodore thought it only right that he should now wait for
his successor to arrive. But in a day or two the Pasha sent him a
message through the French consul, offering to treat for peace if the
United States would pay one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the
ransom of the captives. The last proposal before this had been for a
ransom of half a million; all which showed that the two attacks had
lowered the Tripolitan demands to less than one third of what they had
been, and that in time they would come down still further.
Preble therefore renewed his operations, making the same zealous and
eager efforts that he would have done had the Department not superseded
him. Decatur, whose new commission as captain had come out in the "John
Adams," and Chauncey rowed into the harbor one dark night in two small
boats to find out how the enemy's flotilla was arranged at night. When
this was ascertained, a night attack was planned, and the gunboats and
bombs were sent into the harbor, where they bombarded the town from two
o'clock till daylight. It was a beautiful sight to one who could watch
it from a distance; but it filled the people of the city with terror,
and if the Pasha had had any concern for the feelings of his subjects,
he would have made peace then on any terms. But as long as his castle
stood, and taxes could be wrung from his people, and he had plenty of
food and slaves, it mattered little to him that the town should suffer
from the horrors of a night bombardment.
A few nights later the attack was repeated, and it was shortly followed
by a warm engagement with the forts and gunboats in the harbor, in which
the enemy was repulsed and great damage was done in the town. This last
attack, the fifth which the squadron had made, exhausted nearly all its
ammunition; and as the bad season was coming on, the commodore
determined to use up what was left in carrying out a plan which he had
some time before projected, and which was to inflict a final blow on the
enemy. The plan was to load the "Intrepid" with gunpowder and shells,
making a kind of infernal machine of her, and send her in to explode
among the Tripolitan shipping. One hundred barrels of powder were stowed
in her magazine, and one hundred and fifty fixed shells were placed in
different parts of the vessel. The whole was to be fired by a fuse
calculated to burn a quarter of an hour.
The direction of this hazardous undertaking was intrusted to Lieut.
Richard Somers, a gallant and devoted officer who had shared with
Decatur the command of the gunboats in all the attacks upon Tripoli.
Lieut. Henry Wadsworth went with him; and at the last moment young
Israel, another of the "Constitution's" lieutenants, begged so hard to
be allowed to go that the commodore consented. They took with them the
two fastest boats in the squadron, one of them from the "Nautilus" with
four men, the other from the "Constitution" with six men.
On the evening of the 4th of September everything was ready, and the
"Intrepid" got under way and stood for the entrance of the harbor. The
"Argus," "Siren," and "Nautilus" went with her as far as the rocks, and
remained there to pick up the boats on their return. The night was
thick, and there was a faint starlight, and the "Intrepid" was gradually
lost to sight in the gathering gloom as she passed between the rocks at
the entrance. But the Tripolitan sentries on the mole were on the watch,
and presently the batteries opened fire upon her. Still she held
silently on her course, steering straight for the mole, where the
enemy's flotilla lay at anchor. Suddenly, before the allotted time had
passed, the explosion came. There was a quick flash, a sheet of flame, a
deafening report, then the sound of bursting shells and cries of alarm
as for an instant the city walls, the harbor, and the vessels were
lighted up by the blaze, and then--darkness and silence.
The three ships remained for hours off the entrance watching anxiously
for some signs of the returning boats or men. Every ear was strained to
catch the plash of the oar in the water or its dull rattle in the
rowlock, and every eye strove to pierce the shroud of mist that hung
over the waters; but in vain. None of that devoted band were destined
ever to return. They had given up their lives as a sacrifice for their
country; and whether their destruction was caused by one of the enemy's
shot, or whether, finding himself attacked by boarders, Somers had
lighted the fuse, as he had resolved to do in such an event, and had
blown up himself and his assailants together, no man knows to this
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