would mean the risk of his life, and of the lives of all who went with
him; but every sailor on his vessel was as eager to try as he himself.
From among them all he chose sixty-two to go with him, and MacDonough
was one of those chosen.
They set sail for the bay of Tripoli, in a ketch, (a sort of small
merchant vessel) which they named “Intrepid.” Almost all the Americans
hid down in the lower part of the ketch. Only a few stayed on deck.
Those on deck darkened their faces, and dressed themselves as Maltese
sailors, with red fezzes and round jackets. The inside of the ketch was
filled with powder and everything else necessary for blowing up the
“Philadelphia,” if they could only get to her.
Boldly the little ketch with these brave men on board sailed into the
enemy’s harbor.
The Tripolitans, looking from their forts, saw nothing but what seemed
to be a Maltese merchant ship, sailing into the harbor to shelter there
for the night,—for the daylight was already fading from the sky and the
moon was rising.
The “Intrepid” sailed slowly across the harbor to where the
“Philadelphia” lay under the fortress. Aboard of her were the Tripoli
officers on the watch.
When the ketch was near enough to the “Philadelphia,” an American
officer hailed her, speaking in the Maltese language. He said they had
lost their anchors at sea, and asked whether they might fasten their
boat to the “Philadelphia” for the night.
The Tripoli officer hesitated a moment. “That is a very unusual thing
to ask,” he said. However, he agreed that they might, and a hawser rope
was flung over to the ketch for them to fasten by.
Just then the “Intrepid” swung out from under the shadow of the
“Philadelphia,” and the moon shone down on her deck. There on her
deck, in the full light, lay the anchors that the officer said had been
lost at sea.
Immediately the Tripoli men knew that a trick had been played upon
them. “Americanos! Americanos!” they shouted. But they had found it
out too late. The ketch was already fastened to the side of the larger
vessel. The Americans swarmed over the sides of the “Philadelphia,” and
the Tripolitans found themselves fighting for their lives. MacDonough
was the third man to spring aboard of the ship. In a short time all the
Tripolitans were killed or driven overboard, the powder was hastily
carried from the ketch to the “Philadelphia,” and she was set on fire.
Then the Americans returned to their own boat. They cut loose and rowed
at full speed away from the “Philadelphia” and across the harbor.
The men in the fortress near by, had seen that strange things were
happening on board the “Philadelphia,” but in the uncertain moonlight
they could not tell just what the matter was. It was not until they saw
the ketch well across the harbor, and flames and smoke pouring from
the “Philadelphia” that they realized what had happened. Then their
cannon roared, but the balls fell short. The men on the “Intrepid” rose
to their feet, waved their caps, and in the red light of the burning
ship, gave three rousing American cheers. Then they again fell to their
oars, and rowed out of the harbor to where the “Siren,” an American war
vessel, was waiting for them outside.
This burning of the “Philadelphia” was said by Admiral Nelson, to be
“the most bold and daring act of the age.”
MacDonough had shown such bravery in this action that he was made a
lieutenant.
It was while MacDonough was still on this Mediterranean cruise that he
had an adventure with three cut-throats.
The commander had given him leave to go on shore one day, and toward
evening, as he was coming back to his boat, three cut-throats set upon
him in a lonely place. Instead of trying to escape, MacDonough turned
upon them and fought so fiercely that he soon wounded two of them,
and the third took to his heels and ran. MacDonough ran after him. He
chased the man for some distance, and then they came to a low building;
into this building the man dashed, and up the stairs, with MacDonough
still after him. When he reached the roof he looked behind him. There
still was the terrible Americano. Then the man ran to the edge of
the roof and jumped off, for he felt he would rather run the risk of
breaking his neck than fight with MacDonough.
When MacDonough came down stairs again, he looked all around for the
man, but he could not see him, so he quietly returned to his boat and
rowed back to the ship.
In 1806, MacDonough was first lieutenant on the “Siren,” with Captain
Smith in command.
They were lying just off Gibraltar at one time, and at some distance
from them were anchored two other vessels. One was an American
merchant ship, and the other a British frigate.
One day Captain Smith had gone on shore and MacDonough was in charge of
the “Siren.” In the afternoon he saw a boat put off from the frigate
and row over to the merchant ship. It lay there for a while, and then
when it started to return to the frigate he saw that there was one more
man in her than there had been before.
MacDonough knew that the captains of English warships sometimes
kidnapped American sailors, and made them serve on board the British
vessels, and he suspected that this extra man was an American who was
being stolen from the crew of the merchant ship.
He immediately sent over to the ship to ask whether this were so.
The captain told him “Yes;”—that the British had come on board, and
taken one of his sailors. The captain had been afraid to resist them,
for the frigate had guns and he had none.
As soon as MacDonough heard this, he had a cutter lowered, and set out
in chase of the British boat. The Englishmen were rowing in a very
leisurely manner, for they never dreamed that any one would dare to
interfere with their prize.
MacDonough caught up to them just as they reached the frigate. The
prisoner was sitting in the stem of the boat. MacDonough’s men drove
the cutter so close that the two boats grated together. One of the
Englishmen shouted to them to keep off, but instead MacDonough reached
over, and catching hold of the prisoner dragged him, bodily, into his
own boat. Then his rowers gave way, and before the Englishmen could
recover from their surprise, he was on his way back to the “Siren,” the
rescued man with him.
The British captain had seen the whole affair from the deck of the
frigate, and he was in a fury. He got into a boat and had himself rowed
over to the “Siren.” When he came on board, he saw MacDonough walking
quietly up and down the deck, with his hands clasped behind him.
The captain marched up to him insolently. “Where is that man you took?
I must have him back,” he cried.
“I will not give him up,” answered MacDonough quietly.
“You dare to tell me that? Why you are not even the captain of this
vessel, and you dare to say you will not let me have the man?”
“I will answer to it to my captain,” said MacDonough, “and I will not
give him up.”
The captain raged and threatened to turn the frigate’s guns against the
“Siren” and blow it out of the water.
“You can do it, no doubt, if you choose,” answered MacDonough, “but as
long as this boat is afloat I will never give that man up.”
The captain finding he could gain nothing, got into his boat again and
had himself rowed over toward the merchant vessel.
MacDonough feared he might try to kidnap another man, so he entered the
cutter and followed close after the British boat. The Englishmen rowed
about for some time and then finding they could not shake him off they
returned to the frigate. Then, and not till then, MacDonough went back
to the “Siren.”
The English officers one and all admired MacDonough’s conduct in this
affair, and always afterward spoke of him with great admiration.
But it was in the battle of Lake Champlain that MacDonough won his
greatest fame.
Our troubles with England had finally ended in a war with her.
MacDonough was put in command of the naval forces on Lake Champlain. He
was then a little over thirty years old.
The battle was fought on a clear, bright September morning, in 1814.
Before the battle began the Commodore (as MacDonough was then called)
knelt on the deck of the “Saratoga,” and with his officers and crew
about him, he prayed for success in the conflict.
When a little later they were clearing the decks of the “Saratoga” for
action, they let out some chickens that were in coops, and threw the
coops overboard. One of the cocks flew up on the rigging and flapped
his wings and crowed loud and long. It was as if he recognized in the
Commodore one of the “Blue Hen’s Chickens,” and was greeting him.
The sailors took his crowing as a sign of victory, and cheered in
answer to him.
The American ships were scarcely set in battle order, before the
British squadron came sailing proudly around a wooded point of land.
The red flags at their mast-heads fluttered gaily in the sunlight.
MacDonough himself fired the first shot from the “Saratoga.” The gun
was aimed at the British flagship “Confidence,” and the shot killed
and wounded several of her men, and carried away her wheel. Again and
again, through the battle, MacDonough, with his own hands, helped to
work the guns. Three times he was struck by splinters and thrown across
the decks. Once a heavy spar fell over him and knocked him senseless.
Once a shot blew off the head of a gunner, and threw it against him
with such force that he was again knocked across the deck and into the
scuppers. But he was not seriously hurt, though every other officer on
the “Saratoga” was either killed or wounded.
By mid-day the battle was over and the Americans had won. So fierce had
been the broadsides that not a single mast was left standing on the
vessel of either of the opposing squadrons.
After the battle was ended the American officers all gathered on the
deck of the “Saratoga” and the British officers came to give up their
swords to MacDonough.
Instead of taking them, however, MacDonough said, “Gentlemen, your
gallant conduct makes you the more worthy to wear your swords;” and he
bade them put them back in their scabbards and keep them.
Every care was now given to the wounded on both sides, and MacDonough
himself visited every ship in his squadron, and thanked the officers
and men for their bravery.
News of the American victory was received with joy all over the
country. Congress offered a vote of thanks to MacDonough, and many
states and towns gave him presents. But through it all he was still the
modest MacDonough. Often tears came into his eyes when he was speaking
of all the country had done for him.
This was almost his last battle. Soon after it, peace was declared, and
he left Lake Champlain and went back to the ocean.
In 1825 he was Commander of the “Constitution,” in the Mediterranean.
But his health failed and he determined to go home. He never reached
his country, however. On November tenth, he died, leaving behind him
an undying name—a brave officer, a great seaman, and a Christian
gentleman. In memory of MacDonough, the place near which he was born
has been named after him, and in the great warship “Delaware,” the
largest in the present American navy, his portrait (presented by the
Colonial Dames of the State) is hung with those of Admiral Jones and
Admiral du Pont, to commemorate the naval heroes of Delaware.
[Illustration: The · Battleship · “Delaware”]
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time Delaware Welcomed Lafayette.
[Illustration: Old Bridge over the Brandywine at Wilmington]
WHEN Lafayette was in America, helping us fight for liberty, he
made many friends among the Delaware people. Caesar Rodney was then
President of Delaware, and Lafayette was often entertained at his
house. It was there that he met the beautiful Miss Vining. He and she
became great friends, and for a great many years they used to write to
each other.
When Washington had his headquarters in Wilmington, Lafayette came
with him. He staid at the house of a Quaker, Mr. Joseph Tatnall, in
Brandywine Village, just across the stream from Wilmington. General
Wayne and other of Washington’s officers, were stationed at Mr.
Tatnall’s house, too.
Brandywine Village was then a separate place, and not a part of
Wilmington as it is now. There was no bridge across the Brandywine,
and people who wished to go from one place to the other, were ferried
across the stream.[34] Lafayette often crossed the Brandywine in this
way. He would ride his horse on to the great clumsy boat and sit
quietly while it was ferried over; then he would ride clattering off on
the Wilmington side, and up the hilly streets to join Washington at his
headquarters.
Often General Washington himself would cross in the ferry to Brandywine
Village, and come to the Tatnall house to discuss plans of battle with
Lafayette, and the other officers. These meetings were held in the back
parlor; there was a large round table in the middle of the room, and
on this they spread out their maps and plans. Washington kept other
important papers at the Tatnall house, too. It was a safer place than
his headquarters in Wilmington.
Lafayette was at this time a very gay and dashing young officer, and
the Tatnall children, who were shy little Quakers, were rather afraid
of him. After he had been out riding he used to come marching into the
house, snapping his riding whip, and glancing about him with keen,
bright eyes; his spurs jingled as he walked. The children generally
ran and hid when they heard him coming,—that is all but the youngest,
a pretty little girl of two or three. She never felt the least fear of
the Frenchman. She would run to meet him, holding up her little bare
dimpled arms for him to take her. Then Lafayette would swing her up on
his shoulder, and march with her through the house. He called her “his
little sweetheart.”
But one morning Lafayette and the other officers said good-bye, and
went down to the ferry for the last time. His “little sweetheart” never
saw him again. He had gone with Washington and his army to meet the
British further north, and to fight in the battle of Brandywine.
After the Revolution was over, and the colonies were free, Lafayette
went back to France, and it was almost forty years before he visited
America again. In that time, there were many changes. Washington died
and was buried at his beloved home, Mount Vernon. Lafayette himself had
changed from a gay, dashing officer to a stately, grey-haired man of
sixty-seven.
He landed at New York on August, sixteenth, 1824, and was welcomed with
great honor as “the nation’s guest.” Flowers were strewn before him. In
many places the horses were taken from his carriage, and it was drawn
through the streets by the people themselves.
There were at that time, twenty-four states in the Union, and Lafayette
wished to visit each one of them. He planned to come to Wilmington on
October, sixth, so as to attend the wedding of Mr. Charles I. du Pont
and Miss VanDyke, the daughter of U. S. Senator, Nicholas VanDyke,
at New Castle in the evening of that day. Lafayette had known Mr. du
Pont’s father in France, for they were of a French family.
Great preparations were made by all the people of Wilmington and its
vicinity, (indeed from all parts of the State) to welcome Lafayette.
The day of his arrival dawned clear and bright. As early as seven
o’clock in the morning all the town was astir. Fifes were sounded,
drums were beaten. The Wilmington City Troop was to march up the
Philadelphia pike and meet the General at the state line, between
Pennsylvania and Delaware. This City Troop had been named the
“Lafayette Guard,” in honor of their visitor. With the troop were to
ride about two hundred of the young men of Wilmington. These young men
were all dressed alike, in white trousers, blue or black coats, and
high black stocks. They all wore Revolutionary cockades, and Lafayette
badges. A number of the older men of Wilmington rode out with them,
too, in carriages.
At the boundary line in Brandywine Hundred, near the Practical Farmer,
a magnificent floral arch had been erected with the American eagle
suspended in the centre, a United States flag, with a portrait of
Washington underneath of it and the words:—
“DELAWARE WELCOMES LAFAYETTE.”
Advancing into the city of Wilmington, his reception was overwhelming.
Flowers were strewn in his pathway; arches of evergreens, decorated
with flags, had been built across Market Street at different points.
From one of the arches hung a model of the ship “Brandywine,” and
above it were the words, “_In honor of Lafayette, the friend of Civil
Liberty_.”
The ladies of the town had decorated Brandywine bridge so that it was
almost hidden by wreaths and flowers. It was over this bridge that
Lafayette would enter the town.
It was eight o’clock when the procession set out from Wilmington and
marched up the Philadelphia pike to meet the distinguished guest.
At about ten o’clock word was brought that General Lafayette was then
in sight. The procession drew up in order, and as soon as Lafayette
appeared the men burst into a loud shout of “Long live Lafayette!”
Lafayette rose and bowed in answer. He was riding in a barouche, and
with him was his son, George Washington Lafayette. He was escorted by
the First City Troop of Philadelphia, and a number of well known men.
As soon as Lafayette reached the State line where the Wilmington
procession was waiting, he stepped from the barouche down into the road.
The Honorable Louis McLane came forward to meet him, and made a speech
of welcome. Lafayette answered him, and in his answer he spoke of the
war for liberty, in which he had fought, and of the great bravery of
the Delaware regiment in that war.
Mr. McLane then asked to introduce to the General, three men who had
fought in the Delaware regiment,—three of the Blue Hen’s Chickens. They
were, Major Peter Jaquet, Captain Caleb P. Bennett and Colonel Allen
McLane. Colonel McLane, an old man of eighty-three years, was dressed
in the Colonial uniform he had worn in the war.
Other prominent citizens of Delaware were introduced, and then
Lafayette stepped into the carriage that had been brought for him, and
to the music of the band, the procession moved on toward Wilmington.
As they reached the top of Shellpot hill, just outside of the city, the
dull boom of a cannon sounded across the sunny fields. Again it boomed,
and still again, till thirteen shots had been fired, one shot for each
of the thirteen original colonies. It was a salute to Lafayette.
The General was very anxious to stop in Brandywine Village, at the
Tatnall house. His old friend, Joseph Tatnall, had died many years
before, but his son was still living in a stone house close by.
He was standing in the doorway when Lafayette’s carriage stopped before
the house. He hurried down to the street to welcome the General. He had
his little son in his arms, and at a whispered word from his father,
the little fellow held out a beautiful basket of Washington pears.
Lafayette took it with a smile, and thanked the child. “You were not so
many years older than this little fellow, when I was here before,” said
the General to the father.
“And my little sweetheart?” added the General. “What has become of her?
Shall I see her?”
But the little sweetheart was dead. Years before, she had grown up and
married, and then had died, leaving a daughter. Lafayette wished to
see this daughter, but she was away at boarding school. Mr. Tatnall
had asked the mistress of the school to allow his niece to come to him
for that day, but the mistress had refused; she was so strict that she
would not allow the young girl to be absent for a day, even to meet
General Lafayette.
Just beyond the bridge, a great crowd of people had gathered. They
cheered wildly as Lafayette’s carriage rolled across the bridge. At the
same time, all the bells in the city began to ring, and so with shouts
and music, and the pealing of bells, General Lafayette was welcomed
back to Delaware.
The procession paraded through the streets and under the arches, and at
last drew up before the City Hall, where a great feast had been made
ready. About two hundred people were at the banquet.
Just as the feast was ended, an old woman pushed her way into the hall,
and came to where Mr. McLane was standing. Mr. McLane knew who she was
very well. Her name was Belle McClosky, and she earned her living by
selling cakes and pies about the town. Wherever she went, she always
carried an old musket ball in her pocket. Often she took out this ball
and showed it to her customers, and boasted that she had taken it
out of General Lafayette’s wound with a pair of scissors when he was
wounded at the Battle of Brandywine.
Now, as soon as she reached Mr. McLane’s side, she said, “Mr. McLane, I
want you to introduce me to General Lafayette.”
Mr. McLane hesitated a moment; then he said “Very well, Belle, I will
do it. I know you are a true patriot, and I believe you saved many a
poor soldier’s life at the time of the war.”
He then led Belle over to General Lafayette. The General spoke to her
pleasantly, but he had not the least idea who she was.
“General,” said Belle, “do you remember being wounded at the Battle of
Brandywine, and the young woman who took out the ball with a pair of
scissors?”
“I remember very well,” answered Lafayette. “She saved me several hours
of suffering. I would like to see her again, that I might thank her.”
Belle took the ball from her pocket, and held it out to him in her
hand. “This is the ball,” said she, “and I am the woman who took it
out, though I am so old now it is no wonder that you do not know me.”
Lafayette was amazed. He thanked her warmly, and then took the ball and
looked at it. “So you have kept it all these years,” he said. “That is
very curious.”
Then he gave the ball back to her, and Belle went out from the hall
that day a very proud and happy woman.
Lafayette paid only one visit in Wilmington, and that was to Mrs.
Connel. She was the wife of Mr. John Connel who had been very kind
to some French soldiers at the time of the war between France and
Russia.[35]
Later in the afternoon, the General set out for New Castle, to attend
the wedding there.
New Castle had prepared to welcome him with a military salute. There
were two six pound cannons in the old arsenal at New Castle, that were
named the “Wasp” and the “Hornet.”
They had been moved to the northeast end of the town, near the site
of old Fort Casimir, ready for use. As the procession passed Rogers’
Woods, and came in sight of New Castle, the gunners began. The cannons
boomed and boomed incessantly until Lafayette had entered the house of
George Read, 2nd, on Water St., where he was received, and where guards
were placed at the front door to keep back the crowd.
In the evening Lafayette attended the wedding. At this wedding, he was,
of course, the guest of honor. The chair where he was to sit was raised
so as to be higher than any others in the room, and was wreathed about
with flowers.
A great crowd gathered before the house to see General Lafayette.
Senator VanDyke, the father of the bride, gave orders that the door and
windows should be left open, so that the people outside could see the
General and also the wedding party.
Afterward, he went to take supper and spend the night, with George
Read, 2nd, the son of the signer of the Declaration of Independence.
The next morning, he was driven over to Frenchtown, Maryland, on the
Elk river, where he was met and welcomed by the Marylanders.
So Lafayette passed through Delaware, on his tour through the States,
and so the Delaware people welcomed him. It was a beautiful greeting,
and Delaware may well be proud of the day when Lafayette was here.
[Illustration: Old Tatnall House—Brandywine Village—Wilmington]
NOTES
[34] The ferry landings were near the Brandywine Flour Mills on one
side, and at the foot of King Street on the other.
[35] Mrs. John Connel afterward went to France, and was the guest of
the Lafayette family for six months. She was presented at the Court of
Louis Philippe, and the King gave her a handsome lace fan, which is
still preserved in the family.
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time Mason And Dixon Ran A Boundary
[Illustration: “A Rose—at Michaelmas”]
OF ALL the States belonging to the United States of America, there are
no two that are of the same size or shape. Some are big and some are
little. One is almost square. One is shaped like a boot.