were cleared up. His charm of manner won him many friends, and people
would not believe him a traitor. When the grand jury met they decided
that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason. The judge, however, would
not set him free, and Burr realized that General Wilkinson was using
all his power against him. He thought that his only chance of safety
lay in defying the court, and taking the advice of some friends fled to
a hiding-place near the home of Colonel Osmun, an old acquaintance. He
meant to leave that part of the country, but the severe weather blocked
his plans. Heavy rains had swollen all the streams, and he had to change
his route. He set out with one companion, but had to ask a farmer the
road to the house of Colonel Hinson. The farmer suspected that one of
the horsemen was Aaron Burr, and knew that a large reward had been
offered for his capture. He carried his news to the sheriff, and then
to the officers at Fort Stoddert. A lieutenant from the fort with
four soldiers joined the farmer, and, mounting fast horses, they rode
after the two men. Early the next morning they came up with them. The
lieutenant demanded in the name of the government of the United States
whether one of the horsemen was Colonel Burr. Aaron Burr admitted his
name, and was put under arrest. He was taken to the fort, and held there
as a fugitive from justice.
The cry of "Treason in the West" had been heard all over the country.
The great expedition against Mexico had dwindled to a small voyage to
settle certain timber-lands. The formidable fleet was only nine ordinary
river boats. The army of rebels had shrunk to less than sixty peaceful
citizens; and the store of arms and ammunition had been reduced to a few
rifles and powder-horns. Moreover Aaron Burr had neither attempted to
fight nor to resist arrest. He had merely fled when he thought he stood
little chance of a fair trial. Yet the cry of treason had so alarmed the
country that the government found it necessary to try the man who had so
nearly defeated Jefferson for the Presidency.
Orders were sent to bring Aaron Burr east. After a journey that lasted
twenty-one days the prisoner was lodged in the Eagle Tavern in Richmond,
Virginia. Here Chief-Justice Marshall examined the charges against Burr,
and held him in bail to appear at the next term of court. The bail was
secured, and on the afternoon of April 1st Burr was once more set at
liberty. From then until the day of the trial interest in the case grew.
Everywhere people discussed the question whether Aaron Burr had been a
traitor to his country. By the time for the hearing of the case feeling
against him ran high. When court met on May 22, 1807, Richmond was
crowded with many of the most prominent men of the time, drawn by the
charges against a man who had so lately been Vice-President.
It was not until the following August that Colonel Burr was actually
put on trial. The question was simply whether he had planned to make
war against the United States. There were many witnesses, led by the
faithless General Wilkinson, who were ready to declare that the purpose
of the meetings at Blennerhassett Island was to organize an army to
divide the western country from the rest of the republic. Each side was
represented by famous lawyers; and the battle was hard fought. In the
end, however, the jury found that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason.
No matter what Burr and Blennerhassett and their friends had planned to
do in Mexico, the jury could not believe they had been so mad as to plot
a war against the United States.
Burr, although now free, was really a man without a country. He went to
England and France, and in both countries engaged in plans for freeing
the colonies of Spain. But both in England and in France the people
looked upon him with suspicion, remembering his strange history. At the
end of four years he returned to the United States. Here he found that
some of his early plans were coming to fulfilment. Revolts were breaking
out in Florida, in Mexico, and in some of the West Indies. He was
allowed no part in any of these uprisings. Florida became a part of the
United States, and in time Burr saw the men of Texas begin a struggle
for freedom from Mexico. When he read the news of this, he exclaimed,
"There! You see! I was right! I was only thirty years too soon. What was
treason in me thirty years ago is patriotism now!" Later he was asked
whether he had really planned to divide the Union when he started on his
voyage from Blennerhassett Island. He answered, "No; I would as soon
have thought of taking possession of the moon, and informing my friends
that I intended to divide it among them."
Such is the story of Aaron Burr, a real soldier of fortune, who wanted
to carve out a new country for himself, and came to be "a man without a
country."
IV
HOW THE YOUNG REPUBLIC FOUGHT THE BARBARY PIRATES
I
Long after pirates had been swept from the Western Ocean they flourished
in the Mediterranean Sea. They hailed from the northern coast of Africa,
where between the Mediterranean and the desert of Sahara stretched what
were known as the Barbary States. These states were Morocco, Algeria,
Tunis, Tripoli, and the tiny state of Barca, which was usually included
in Tripoli. Algeria, or, as it was commonly called from the name of its
capital, Algiers, was the home of most of the Mediterranean pirates.
There was hardly a port in the whole of that inland sea that had not
seen a fleet of the pirates' boats sweep down upon some innocent
merchant vessel, board her, overpower the crew, and carry them off
to be sold in the African slave-markets. Their ships were usually
square-rigged sailing vessels, which were commonly called galleons. The
pirates did not trust to cannon, and the peculiar shape of the ships
gave them a good chance for hand-to-hand fighting. The dark-skinned crew
would climb out on the long lateen yards that hung over their enemies'
deck, and drop from the yards and from the rigging, their sabers held
between their teeth, their loaded pistols stuck in their belts, so that
they might have free use of their hands for climbing and clinging to
ropes and gunwales.
Strange as it seems, the great countries of Europe made no real effort
to destroy these pirates of the Barbary coast, but instead actually
paid them bribes in order to protect their crews. The larger countries
thought that, as they could afford to pay the tribute that the pirates
demanded, and their smaller rivals could not, the pirates might actually
serve them by annoying other countries. So England and France, and the
other big nations of Europe, put up with all sorts of insults at the
hands of these Moorish buccaneers, and many times their consuls were
ill-treated and their sailors made to work in slave-gangs because they
had not paid as much tribute as the Moors demanded.
Many an American skipper fell into the hands of these corsairs. The brig
_Polly_ of Newburyport, Massachusetts, was heading for the Spanish port
of Cadiz in October, 1793, when she was overhauled by a brig flying the
English flag. As the brig came near her captain hailed the _Polly_ in
English, asking where she was bound. Meanwhile the brig ran close in
beside the _Polly_, and the Americans saw a large number of men, Moors
by the look of their beards and dress, spring up from under the rail.
This crew launched a big boat, and nearly one hundred men, armed with
swords, pistols, spears, and knives, were rowed up to the _Polly_. The
Moors sprang on board. The Yankees were greatly outnumbered, and were
driven into the cabin, while the pirates broke open all the trunks
and chests, and stripped the brig of everything that could be moved.
The prisoners were then rowed to the Moorish ship, which sailed for
Algiers. There they were landed and marched to the palace of the Dey,
or ruler of Algiers, while the people clapped their hands, shouted, and
gave thanks for the capture of so many "Christian dogs." They were put
in prison, where they found other Americans, and nearly six hundred
Christians of other countries, all of whom were treated as slaves. On
the next day each captive was loaded with chains, fastened around his
waist and joined to a ring about his ankle. They were then set to work
in rigging and fitting out ships, in blasting rocks in the mountains, or
carrying stones for the palace the Dey was building. Their lot was but
little better than that of the slaves of olden times who worked for the
Pharaohs. As more American sailors were captured and made slaves their
friends at home grew more and more eager to put an end to these pirates,
and when the Revolution was over the young Republic of the United States
began to heed the appeals for help that came from the slave-markets
along the Barbary coast.
The Republic found, however, that so long as England and France were
paying tribute to the pirates it would be easier for her to do the
same thing than to fight them. The American Navy was very small, and
the Mediterranean was far distant. England seemed actually to be
encouraging the pirates, thinking that their attacks on American ships
would injure the country that had lately won its independence. So the
United States made the best terms it could with the rulers of Algiers,
Morocco, Tunis, and Tripoli, and paid heavy ransoms for the release of
the captives. There was little self-respect or honor among the Moorish
chiefs, however. One Dey succeeded another, each more greedy than the
last, and each demanded more tribute money or threatened to seize all
the Americans he could lay hands upon. The consuls had to be constantly
making presents in order to keep the Moors in a good humor, and whenever
the Dey felt the need of more money he would demand it of the United
States consul, and threaten to throw him in prison if he refused.
This state of affairs was very unpleasant for free men, but for a number
of years it had to be put up with. When Captain Bainbridge dropped
anchor off Algiers in command of the United States frigate _George
Washington_, the Dey demanded that he should carry a Moorish envoy to
Constantinople with presents for the Sultan of Turkey. Bainbridge did
not like to be treated as a messenger boy; but the Dey said, "You pay
me tribute, by which you become my slaves. I have, therefore, a right
to order you as I may think proper." Bainbridge had no choice but to
obey the command, or leave American merchant vessels at the mercy of the
Moors, and so he carried the Dey's presents to the Sultan.
As all the Barbary States throve on war, in that way gaining support
from the enemies of the country they attacked, one or the other was
constantly making war. In May, 1801, the Pasha of Tripoli declared
war against the United States, cut down the American flagstaff at
his capital, and sent out his pirate ships. In reply the United
States ordered a squadron of four vessels under command of Commodore
Richard Dale to sail to the Mediterranean. This squadron did good
service, capturing a number of the galleys of Tripoli, and exchanging
Moorish prisoners for American slaves. But the pirates were like a
swarm of hornets; they stung wherever they got a chance, and as soon
as the war-ships were out of sight they would steal out from their
hiding-places to terrorize the coast. The United States had to keep
sending squadrons to act as policemen. When the fleet kept together the
Moors had proper respect for them, but once the ships separated they
became the target for the hornets.
The frigate _Philadelphia_, of thirty-six guns, was detailed in October,
1803, to blockade the port of Tripoli. The morning after she reached
there she saw a ship inshore preparing to sail westward. The frigate
gave chase, and as the other vessel carried the colors of Tripoli, the
frigate opened fire. As she chased the Moor the _Philadelphia_ ran on
a shelving rock that was part of a long reef. Her crew worked hard to
get her off, but she stuck fast. As the Moors on shore saw the plight of
the _Philadelphia_ they manned their boats, and soon she was surrounded
by a swarm of pirate galleys. The galleys sailed under the fire of
the frigate's heavy guns, and came up to close quarters, where the
cannon could not reach them. The Americans were helpless, and by sunset
Commodore Bainbridge had to strike his flag. As soon as he surrendered
the Moors swarmed over the sides of his ship, broke everything they
could lay their hands on, stripped officers and men of their uniforms,
and tumbled them into the small boats. The prisoners were landed at
night, and led to the castle gate. The sailors were treated as slaves,
but the officers were received by the Pasha in the great marble-paved
hall of his palace, where that ruler, dressed in silks and jewels, and
surrounded by a gorgeous court, asked them many questions, and later
offered them supper. But the favor of the Pasha was as fickle as the
wind; within a day or two he was treating the American officers much as
he treated his other Christian captives, and the crew, three hundred
and seven in number, were worked as slaves. Meantime the Moors, using
anchors and cables, succeeded in pulling the _Philadelphia_ off the
reef, and the frigate was pumped out and made seaworthy. She was brought
into the harbor, to the delight of the Pasha and his people at owning
so fine a war-ship. The loss of the _Philadelphia_ was a severe blow,
not only to American pride, but to American fortunes. The squadron
was now much too small for service, and Bainbridge and his crew were
hostages the United States must redeem.
It fell to the lot of Commodore Preble to take charge of the American
ships in the Mediterranean, and he began to discuss terms of peace
with Tripoli through an agent of the Pasha at Malta. By these terms
the frigate _Philadelphia_ was to be exchanged for a schooner, and
the Moorish prisoners in Preble's hands, sixty in number, were to be
exchanged for as many of the American prisoners in Tripoli, and the rest
of the American captives were to be ransomed at five hundred dollars
a man. Before these terms were agreed upon, however, a more daring
plan occurred to the American commodore, and on February 3, 1804, he
entrusted a delicate task to Stephen Decatur, who commanded the schooner
_Enterprise_. Decatur picked a volunteer crew, put them on board the
ships _Siren_ and _Intrepid_, and sailed for Tripoli. They reached
that port on February 7th, and to avoid suspicion the _Intrepid_ drew
away from the other ship and anchored after dark about a mile west
of the town. A small boat with a pilot and midshipman was sent in to
reconnoiter the harbor. They reported that the sea was breaking across
the western entrance, and as the weather was threatening advised Decatur
not to try to enter that night. The two American ships therefore stood
offshore, and were driven far to the east by a gale. The weather was so
bad that it was not until February 16th that they returned to Tripoli.
This time the _Intrepid_ sailed slowly toward the town, while the
_Siren_, disguised as a merchantman, kept some distance in the rear.
The frigate _Philadelphia_, now the Pasha's prize ship, lay at anchor in
the harbor, and the _Intrepid_ slowly drifted toward her in the light
of the new moon. No one on ship or shore realized the real purpose of
the slowly-moving _Intrepid_. Had the men at the forts on shore or the
watchman at the Pasha's castle suspected her purpose they could have
blown her from the water with their heavy guns.
The _Intrepid_ drifted closer and closer, with her crew hidden, except
for six or eight men dressed as Maltese sailors. Decatur stood by the
pilot at the helm. When the little ship was about one hundred yards
from the _Philadelphia_ she was hailed and ordered to keep away. The
pilot answered that his boat had lost her anchor in the storm, and asked
permission to make fast to the frigate for the night. This was given,
and the Moorish officer on the _Philadelphia_ asked what the ship in
the distance was. The pilot said that she was the _Transfer_, a vessel
lately purchased at Malta by the Moors, which was expected at Tripoli
about that time. The pilot kept on talking in order to lull the Moors'
suspicions, and meantime the little _Intrepid_ came close under the port
bow of the _Philadelphia_. Just then the wind shifted and held the
schooner away from the frigate, and directly in range of her guns. Again
the Moors had a chance to destroy the American boat and crew if they had
known her real object. They did not suspect it, however. Each ship sent
out a small boat with a rope, and when the ropes were joined the two
ships were drawn close together.
When the vessels were almost touching some one on the _Philadelphia_
suddenly shouted, "Americanos!" At the same moment Decatur gave the
order "Board!" and the American crew sprang over the side of the frigate
and jumped to her deck. The Moors were huddled on the forecastle.
Decatur formed his men in line and charged. The surprised Moors made
little resistance, and Decatur quickly cleared the deck of them; some
jumped into the sea, and others escaped in a large boat. The Americans
saw that they could not get the _Philadelphia_ safely out of the harbor,
and so quickly brought combustibles from the _Intrepid_, and stowing
them about the _Philadelphia_, set her on fire. In a very few minutes
she was in flames, and the Americans jumped from her deck to their
own ship. It took less than twenty minutes to capture and fire the
_Philadelphia_.
Decatur ordered his men to the oars, and the _Intrepid_ beat a retreat
from the harbor. But now the town of Tripoli was fully aroused. The
forts opened fire on the little schooner. A ship commanded the channel
through which she had to sail, but fortunately for the _Intrepid_ the
Moors' aim was poor, and the only shot that struck her was one through
the topgallantsail. The harbor was brightly lighted now. The flames had
run up the mast and rigging of the _Philadelphia_, and as they reached
the powder loud explosions echoed over the sea. Presently the cables of
the frigate burned, and the _Philadelphia_ drifted ashore and blew up.
In the meantime the _Intrepid_ reached the entrance safely, and joining
the _Siren_ set sail for Syracuse.
The blowing up of the _Philadelphia_ was one of the most daring acts
ever attempted by the United States Navy, and won Decatur great credit.
It weakened the Pasha's strength, and kept his pirate crews in check.
Instead of making terms with the Moorish ruler, the United States
decided to attack his capital, and in the summer of 1804, Commodore
Preble collected his squadron before Tripoli. On August 3d the fleet
approached the land batteries, and in the afternoon began to throw
shells into the town. The Moors immediately opened fire, both from the
forts and from their fleet of nineteen gunboats and two galleys that lay
in the harbor. Preble divided his ships, and ordered them to close in
on the enemy's vessels, although the latter outnumbered them three to
one. Again Decatur was the hero of the fight. He and his men boarded a
Moorish gunboat and fought her crew hand-to-hand across the decks. He
captured the first vessel, and then boarded a second. Decatur singled
out the captain, a gigantic Moor, and made for him. The Moor thrust
at him with a pike, and Decatur's cutlass was broken off at the hilt.
Another thrust of the pike cut his arm, but the American seized the
weapon, tore it away, and threw himself on the Moor. The crews were
fighting all around their leaders, and a Moorish sailor aimed a blow
at Decatur's head with a scimitar. An American seaman struck the blow
aside, and the scimitar gashed his own scalp. The Moorish captain,
stronger than Decatur, got him underneath, and drawing a knife, was
about to kill him, when Decatur caught the Moor's arm with one hand,
thrust his other hand into his pocket, and fired his revolver. The Moor
was killed, and Decatur sprang to his feet. Soon after the enemy's
crew surrendered. The other United States ships had been almost as
successful, and the battle taught the Americans that the Barbary pirates
could be beaten in hand-to-hand fighting as well as at long range.
[Illustration: DECATUR CAUGHT THE MOOR'S ARM]
The Pasha was not ready to come to terms even after that day's defeat,
however, and on August 7th Commodore Preble ordered another attack.
Again the harbor shook under the guns of the fleet and the forts, and at
sunset Preble had to withdraw. To avoid further bloodshed the commodore
sent a flag of truce to the Pasha, and offered to pay eighty thousand
dollars for the ransom of the American prisoners, and to make him a
present of ten thousand dollars more. The Pasha, however, demanded
one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and Preble was not willing to
pay that amount. So later in August he attacked Tripoli again. Each of
these bombardments did great damage to the city, but the forts were too
strong to be captured. The blockading fleet, however, held its position,
and on September 3d opened fire again in the last of its assaults. In
spite of the heavy firing the Pasha refused to pull down his flag.
On the night of September 4th a volunteer crew took the little
_Intrepid_ into the harbor. She was filled with combustibles, and when
she was close to the Moorish ships the powder was to be fired by a fuse
that would give time for the crew to escape in a small boat. The night
was dark, and the fleet soon lost sight of this fire-ship. She took the
right course through the channel, but before she was near the Moors she
was seen and they opened fire on her. Then came a loud explosion, and
the _Intrepid_, with her crew, was blown into the air. No one knows
whether one of the enemy's shots or her own crew fired the powder. This
was the greatest disaster that befell the United States Navy during all
its warfare with the Barbary pirates. Soon after Commodore Preble sailed
for home, though most of his fleet were kept in the Mediterranean to
protect American sailing vessels.
The government at Washington, tired with the long warfare in the
Mediterranean, soon afterward ordered the consul at Algiers, Tobias
Lear, to treat for peace with the Pasha. A bargain was finally struck.
One hundred Moors were exchanged for as many of the American captives,
and sixty thousand dollars were paid as ransom for the rest. June 4,
1805, the American sailors, who had been slaves for more than nineteen
months, were released from their chains and sent on board the war-ship
_Constitution_. The Pasha declared himself a friend of the United
States, and saluted its flag with twenty-one guns from his castle and
forts.
In the Barbary States rulers followed one another in rapid succession.
He who was Dey or Pasha one week might be murdered by an enemy the next,
and that enemy on mounting the throne was always eager to get as much
plunder as he could. Treaties meant little to any of them, and so other
countries kept on paying them tribute for the sake of peace.
The United States fell into the habit of buying peace with Algiers,
Tripoli, Morocco, and Tunis by gifts of merchandise or gold or costly
vessels. But the more that was given to them the more greedy these
Moorish rulers grew, and so it happened that from time to time they
sent out their pirates to board American ships in order to frighten the
young Republic into paying heavier tribute. Seven years later the second
chapter of our history with the Barbary pirates opened.
II
The brig _Edwin_ of Salem, Massachusetts, was sailing under full canvas
through the Mediterranean Sea, bound out from Malta to Gibraltar,
on August 25, 1812. At her masthead she flew the Stars and Stripes.
The weather was favoring, the little brig making good speed, and the
Mediterranean offered no dangers to the skipper. Yet Captain George
Smith, and his crew of ten Yankee sailors, kept constantly looking
toward the south at some distant sails that had been steadily gaining on
them since dawn. Every stitch of sail on the _Edwin_ had been set, but
she was being overhauled, and at this rate would be caught long before
she could reach Gibraltar.
Captain Smith and his men knew who manned those long, low,
rakish-looking frigates. But the _Edwin_ carried no cannon, and if
they could not out-sail the three ships to the south they must yield
peaceably, or be shot down on their deck. Hour after hour they watched,
and by sunset they could see the dark, swarthy faces of the leading
frigate's crew. Before night the _Edwin_ had been overhauled, boarded,
and the Yankee captain and sailors were in irons, prisoners about to be
sold into slavery.