_The Adventures of Uriah P. Levy, the First Naval Officer of
his Day._
A little brown sand piper scudded along the beach. Uriah Levy, a
brown-faced lad who looked several years older than a boy who had just
passed his eleventh birthday, lay upon the shore and smiled to see it
flirt importantly past him as though in a tremendous hurry to reach
its destination. Then his keen eyes turned toward the sea, blue and
stainless, as level as the long looking glass in his mother's parlor
at home. Several sea gulls skimmed the quiet waters, now rising until
their gray-white plumage melted into the clouds, now seeming to float
upon the tide. Uriah was a trifle sorry when they disappeared at last,
for he loved the sea gulls dearly. They seemed so akin to him in their
wild freedom, in their love for the solitary waste of waters. Ever
since he could remember, he, too, had loved the sea, since the days
when he was a tiny boy, sailing his paper boats to strange ports
across the ocean. And tomorrow he was going to sea at last--a real
cabin boy in a real vessel! He threw himself back upon the warm sands
and with half-closed eyes lay dreaming of the future.
He was aroused from his day dreaming by the strange uneasiness that
comes to one who feels that he is being observed. Sitting up, he saw
that Ned Allison, a lad whose father owned a fishing shack near by,
had come down to the beach and was now standing over him, his hands
thrust into the pockets of his ragged trousers, his bare, brown toes
kicking among the pebbles at his feet. The newcomer was a few years
younger than Levy, a grave, stolid lad with bright, restless eyes.
"Hello, Ned," Uriah greeted him. "Did you know I was going to sea
tomorrow?"
"No. You're lucky." The other's tone was delightfully envious of
Uriah's good fortune. "I've got to wait till I'm twelve or maybe
fifteen, I guess. Father's rheumatism is bad lately and I have to help
him. How're you going?" He sank beside Uriah on the sands and gazed
longingly over the blue waters.
"I'm going to ship as cabin boy; but I won't be gone long." Uriah
couldn't help bragging a little as he told his good fortune. "I'm
going to be like Paul Jones and that crowd--if it takes a hundred
years."
"You'll be too old then," observed Ned dryly. He began to turn over
the heap of pebbles that lay between them. "Now if you were to find an
oyster or clam shell with several big pearls you could buy a ship of
your own right now and----"
"I'd make you first mate," promised Uriah, generously. Leaning on his
elbow, he too began to turn over the pebbles, for like every boy of
his years he never gave up hope of finding an oyster shell thickly
studded with pearls, each one milk-white and shining and worth a
king's ransom. "Yes," he went on, dreamily, "I'd rig out a brig right
away and sail the seas till I got tired. First, I guess, I'd clear
the Spanish Main of pirates and then I'd visit far-off countries
across the ocean. Remember what old Captain Ferguson told us about
'em; palm trees, and naked black men who'll sell you ivory and
precious stones for a string of beads or a piece of red cloth? That's
what I'd do if I had a ship of my own."
"I think I'd rather go to war," observed Allison with equal
seriousness.
"Of course! If there would only be a war with some country or other,
I'd like to be captain of the American Navy and capture all the other
nation's vessels and tow 'em into port." His eager face clouded. "But
I've heard my father say that this country's lucky to have peace after
the Revolution; that we have to rest and grow strong. I suppose it
isn't any more likely than either of us ever finding a pearl among all
these stones." Suddenly he interrupted himself with a shrill whistle
of delight. "I found a lucky stone," he exclaimed, "a beauty," holding
it up for Ned's inspection. "And I'm going to wear it for luck as long
as I'm a sailor." He took a piece of string from his pocket and ran it
through one of the holes. "Maybe," he laughed, hanging the charm about
his neck, "maybe this is almost as good as finding a pearl. Anyhow, I
don't care about being rich as long as I can go to sea."
Uriah Levy stood upon the sea shore, no longer a dreaming boy, but a
stalwart youth of twenty. At sixteen he already held the position of
first mate after becoming part owner of the brig, "Five Sisters," on
which he had made five voyages. It had not been easy for a youth with
the down of manhood scarcely visible upon his cheeks to rule a crew
gathered in that day from the riff-raff and scum of the sailing-ports.
Yet the Jewish lad, who one day was to make it his boast that he had
abolished the barbarous custom of corporal punishment from the United
States Navy, by resorting to force ruled without difficulty when his
lawless seamen once realized his courage and the strength of his
fists.
But in the year 1812 the times were still wild times upon the ocean
and it was no uncommon thing for a law-abiding crew to grow weary of
the restraints of their commander, mutiny and follow the sea after the
manner of the pirates who still ruled the Spanish Main. And so, when
Uriah P. Levy became master of the schooner, "George Washington," not
even his iron discipline was strong enough to withstand the plotting
of several of the bolder spirits of his crew. Almost under his very
eyes, the mutiny had been hatched and had grown to a head.
Standing upon the lonely sea shore, Uriah recalled the swarthy,
leering face of Sam Jones, recently punished for infraction of
discipline, and the crooked smile of Martin, he who puffed
everlastingly at his pipe and wore a red handkerchief for a turban and
earrings of heavy gold. He had known them for the ringleaders in the
plot against him, even before they had seized command of the vessel
and taken possession of the cabin that they might hold council whether
their master should be spared or cast into the sea.
"He's but a boy," Martin had argued. "Let him go. Put him in a boat
and set him adrift. We're off the coast of Carolina now and even if
he gets there with a whole skin, he's not likely to worry us when
we're flying the black flag on the Main."
But Sam Jones had urged instant death. "Let him walk the plank," he
suggested, his small eyes glittering with hate. "He's only a boy, but
I tell you I'm afraid of him--sore afraid."
Martin laughed scornfully, puffing at his pipe. "I'm willing to take
the risk," he declared, "though it's no concern of mine. So let's
shake dice and the man who wins will say what's to be done with him."
There in the dimly lighted cabin, Levy with his arms bound behind him,
had watched the game of dice as calmly as though his life did not lie
in the hands of the two who played for such a ghastly stake. Out on
the deck, the mutineers drank and jested and sang uproariously in
their new freedom. He wondered if that were to be the end: a short
plank, a blow to thrust him into the dark waves of the ocean which he
had loved so well. Uriah closed his eyes, swaying a little; but he was
quite calm, even smiling, when Jones sneered in disgust:
"Born to hang, will never drown. You win, Martin." He pushed the dice
aside and rose to release Levy from his bonds. "Here you," he called
to several sailors loitering near the door, "get a small boat ready
and set him adrift."
"And put in a pair of oars," added Martin. "Give the lad a fighting
chance, can't you? And some bread and a jug of water, too." Somehow he
felt suddenly uncomfortable before the boy's quiet gaze. "Aren't you
going to thank me?" he half blustered.
"I am an American gentleman," answered Levy, very slowly, "and I hold
no speech with outlaws and pirates." And before the astonished
mutineer could answer him he followed the sailors from the cabin.
And now his perilous journey was over at last, although his frail boat
had been destroyed on the rocks before he reached the shore. An
excellent swimmer, Levy had stripped off his shoes and coat and jumped
into the water. Cleaving the waves with long powerful strokes, he soon
reached land, where for several hours he lay wet and exhausted, so
bitterly discouraged that he almost wished Jones had prevailed and cut
his throat or forced him to walk the plank. Better to have fallen
asleep beneath the waves, he thought, than try to live, a hopeless and
a defeated man.
It was now past sunset and Levy mechanically set about building a fire
to warm his aching limbs and keep off any prowling beasts while he
slept. Scooping a hollow in the sand beyond the reach of the tide, he
gathered dry drift wood which he finally lighted by the aid of a spark
struck from two stones. He was hungry now and even more anxious for a
smoke than for food; at that moment he hated the crew less for making
off with the vessel in which he had had a third interest than for
casting him on this deserted shore without even the solace of his
evening pipe. Muttering angrily, he leaned over the fire to stir the
blaze; as he did so the damp string about his neck swung free and he
noticed the little lucky stone still fastened to the end.
Strangely enough, the sight of the pebble he had worn as a charm for
so many years gave him courage. His bold spirit which for a little
while had lain bruised and discouraged grew strong again; he felt that
he was not the man to submit tamely to treachery and misfortune. He
must win back all that he had lost that day, not only the stolen
vessel but his self-respect. He must not allow himself beaten.
Crouching by the fire, his chin resting on his clenched fists, his
eyes on the flames, the boy vowed not to rest until he had defeated
his enemies and secured what was his own. "I'm strong and young," he
told himself, confidently, "and so far my luck has never failed me."
And he fingered the little stone on the string about his neck. At last
the fire died down, but there was no one to stir the dying embers, for
Uriah Levy had fallen asleep upon the sands, the luck stone still
clutched between his strong, brown fingers, a confident smile upon his
lips.
In the days that followed, it was not an easy thing for young Levy to
smile confidently in the faces of those who predicted certain failure
in his undertaking. "Other merchants and commanders have suffered from
pirates and mutinous crews before your day," he was informed at every
turn. "Better ship again and look for better luck."
Kindly and well-meant advice, but Levy would have none of it. He still
smiled, though now somewhat grimly, as he went from friend to friend,
insisting that he would not fail to bring his piratical crew to
justice. And so confident was he that he would eventually find a
backer, that he even spent several days roaming about the wharves in
order to pick out a trustworthy crew, should he find anyone willing
to send him to sea on his own vessel again.
"Why, Uriah Levy," exclaimed a deep voice as a stout sailor came
toward him. "You surely haven't forgotten me?"
"You're Ned Allison," said Levy after a long look had convinced him
that the slender fisher boy had grown into the burly man before him.
"And do you follow the sea now as you planned?"
"Yes. My poor father died two years ago. So I sent mother to live with
her sister and here I am. I just hit port last week and now I'm ready
to leave again as soon as I find a good berth. Just can't feel at home
on dry land anymore."
Levy nodded understandingly. "Take me to a good tavern around here,"
he suggested. "I want to talk to you."
Allison willingly led the way to a tavern in the neighborhood much
frequented by sailors, chatting lightly as they walked. Levy hardly
knew him for the shy, taciturn playfellow of his boyhood. He sipped
his ale slowly as he studied Ned's bright, eager face. Somehow he felt
encouraged at the thought that he might induce Allison to accompany
him, should he set out on what seemed to be a hopeless voyage.
"And what have you been doing?" asked Allison, pausing for breath.
"The last I heard of you, you were master of the 'George Washington'
and part owner. Not that you look very lively and prosperous," he
added with a keen glance.
Levy briefly related the story of the mutiny and his hope to pursue
and punish his mutinous crew. "And I'll do it, too," he added,
passionately. "Though I suppose you, like the rest, think it's a mad
venture," he ended, doubtfully.
Allison put down his mug before replying. "I can't say that I do," he
answered slowly. "Though it's risking a good deal if you catch up to
the dogs and they sink your ship in the scuffle. You couldn't afford
that, could you?"
"I'm not thinking of the money alone," insisted Levy. "Nor of revenge;
although I've been treated pretty shabbily and they'll pay for it, if
I live long enough to track them down. But it's a matter of conscience
with me, too, Allison. I'm going to do my share in making the sea
clean of piracy. Maybe there won't be a war in our time, though they
say there's trouble threatening with England, but I'll serve my
country in this way at least. Want to help me?" and he leaned across
the table, looking straight into Ned's eyes.
"I'd rather ship with you as master than any man I know, Sir,"
answered Allison, gravely.
Less than a week later, Uriah Levy succeeded in convincing several
wealthy friends of the sanity of his plan. They advanced the necessary
funds and with a carefully picked crew he started out on a vessel of
his own with Allison as first mate in pursuit of the sailors who had
cast him afloat near the Carolina shores.
Of all the tales Ned Allison loved to tell his grandchildren when he
had grown to be an old man, they clamored most for the story of the
sea fight in which Uriah Levy conquered the pirate crew of the "George
Washington." It was a short battle, but a terrible one, which he
fought a year after the mutiny; and before the mutineers finally
lowered their black flag in token of surrender, a third of the crew
lay dead or wounded upon the slippery decks. Old Martin, his pipe
still between his teeth, lay among the dead, but Sam Jones, his right
arm hanging limp and useless at his side, was among the survivors who
were put into irons when their vessel was taken in tow and Levy turned
his face homeward. Like the other mutineers Jones never doubted what
his fate would be, for those days were hard days and the men who lived
by the sword knew only too well that at any moment death by the sword
might be their portion. Hourly they waited for Levy to pass judgment
upon them, to hang them from the yard arm of the ship which they had
sailed under the flag of piracy. While Levy's own crew grew impatient
until the first mate, Allison, ventured to speak to him of the matter
as they sat in Levy's cabin the night after the battle.
"I can't help wondering, sir," Allison began, doubtfully, "why you
have said nothing so far concerning the fate of our prisoners, since
it is practically in your hands."
Levy shook his head as he puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. Perhaps he
was thinking of the night when Jones had threatened him with death and
laughed at his helplessness. "According to the 'unwritten law' which
is made to cover so many lawless acts, I have the power to deal with
them as I think fit," he answered. "And I must confess I was sorely
tempted to take the law into my own hands when I knew the mutineers
were in my power. But," smiling a little, "it is much better to leave
it to the law courts when we reach port."
"And if they should be acquitted?" Allison's eyes snapped with
excitement. "Sir, if I were in your place----"
"If you were in my place, you might not be censured for yielding to
your desire for revenge," returned Levy, very quietly. "But I--" his
voice took on a tinge of bitterness, "I am a Jew and these wretches,
no matter how criminal, would be pitied as the victim of a Jew's
vengeance. Even in America, my dear Allison, and in spite of the
liberal influence of men like Thomas Jefferson, it is not always easy
to be a Jew."
The civil authorities, however, were entirely on Levy's side at the
trial and the mutineers were duly tried and condemned to death. The
young sailor was about to put out to sea again, for he longed for
further adventure, when the outbreak of the war of 1812 set him
a-dreaming once more of serving his country upon the sea. In spite of
his youth, he was commissioned sailing master in the United States
Navy, serving on the ship, "Alert," and later on the brig, "Argus,"
which ran the blockade to France, Mr. Crawford, the American minister
to that country, being aboard. The "Argus" captured several English
vessels, one of which was placed at Levy's command; but his triumph
was short-lived; recaptured by the English, Levy and his crew were
kept prisoners of war in England for over a year.
Regaining his freedom, Levy returned to America to be promoted to the
rank of lieutenant. It was then that he realized how just had been his
complaint to Allison, for on every hand those who were envious of his
good fortune proved even more malicious because of his loyalty to his
faith. Levy suffered, too, from the hatred of those naval officers who
looked upon him as an intruder into their ranks. For, with the
exception of a year's attendance at the Naval School in Philadelphia,
he had had no naval training and had worked his way up from the ranks.
Perhaps his long fight against the practise of flogging unruly sailors
helped to add to the number of his enemies, for those in authority
were outraged that this Jewish upstart should criticise a custom so
deeply rooted in the traditions of the navy. Another man of quieter
temper might have tried to combat the prejudice and hatred which met
him at every turn; but Levy's nature was not a patient one. When
raised to the rank of captain, he felt that he could not allow the
slanders of one of his enemies to go unanswered; he challenged the
Jew-hater to a duel and caused his opponent to pay for his insults
with his life.
Although the duel was still recognized as an honorable means of
settling a controversy between gentlemen, Levy was made to pay
bitterly for his vindication. His enemies were too strong for him. He
fought them bravely and with his old proud spirit, but when the trial
was over, Allison still serving in the navy, read in one of the
newspapers that his old master had been court-martialed and dropped
from the roll of the United States Navy as captain.
"I knew they'd get him," thought the honest seaman. "Ah, he was too
good for them and now they put him to shame. I couldn't blame him if
he turned against his country when he's treated so after all his
services. And I wonder what'll happen to him if he doesn't follow the
sea."
Allison was right in suspecting that his old playmate would turn in
his trouble to the sea as a child when hurt or tired runs to its
mother for comfort. Glad of an offer to take charge of an important
business commission in Brazil, Levy left the United States, hoping
that the long sea voyage might do a little toward easing the pain in
his heart. But he found that he had been mistaken, although no one
ever knew how deeply he suffered from the moment he left the land he
had sought to serve from his boyhood. Disgraced by his country, tired
and broken in spirit, he spent endless hours in brooding over his
misfortune. No longer the commander of his men, not even a common
seaman, he spent the long days on board leaning upon the rail, looking
with somber eyes upon the waves. His proud heart was bitter against
those who had goaded him on to his ruin; he felt that there was no
justice for the Jew in the whole world, not even in America. Although
he had already set the wheels in motion for a new trial, he was
confident that his enemies would again prove too powerful for him. It
was a hopeless and a heartsick man who landed at last and began his
new duties at the Brazilian Capital.
Several days after his arrival, Uriah P. Levy stood by the window of
his room reading a letter, his brows knitted in thought. The note was
written on the royal stationery and requested him to appear the next
morning for an audience with Emperor Dom Pedro. Levy could think of
but one reason for such a strange command. Perhaps the slanders of his
enemies had preceded him even to this far-off place; perhaps he was
already under suspicion and the audience with the emperor might lead
to imprisonment or ejection from the country. The thought of new
difficulties to encounter wakened his fighting spirit; he was
strangely elated and the dreadful langor which had seized him during
his journey disappeared.
"I am ready for another good fight," he told himself grimly as he
prepared for bed. That night for the first time since his
court-martial he slept the long hours through, and he rested as
peacefully as a little child.
Dressing himself with his usual care and holding his head as proudly
as though he still wore his country's uniform, Levy appeared at the
palace and was immediately ushered into the emperor's presence. His
quick eyes, long trained to notice the smallest detail, quickly took
in every feature of the richly appointed room, noting even the
fantastic carving of the chair on which the emperor sat, and one of
the rings he wore, a flat green emerald with a mystic letter carved
upon it making the jewel, so he judged, a sort of talisman. He smiled
in spite of himself as he remembered his own humble charm, the lucky
stone. Perhaps the pebble's usefulness was over; he could hardly call
his career especially fortunate just now.
Emperor Dom Pedro was a man of a few words. He murmured a few polite
phrases of greeting, asked Levy of his voyage and whether he had
completed the mission which had brought him to Brazil. "For if you
have," he ended, "I may have matters of interest to discuss with you."
"I am not quite finished with the business which brought me here,"
answered Levy, "but naturally I am honored by your majesty's request
to appear before you and not a little eager to learn what matters you
may care to discuss with me."
The emperor twirled the ring with its strange green stone about his
finger. "I have heard much of you," he returned, briefly, "and I need
men of your daring and enterprise in my service. Will you take an
important commission under the Brazilian government?"
For a moment Levy wavered. Already an exile in spirit, he felt he did
not have the courage to return to his native country. Here was an
opportunity for an honorable career which would bring him position,
wealth, all the excitement his daring heart desired. Then, curiously
enough, as he gazed at the emperor's ring, there flashed across his
mind the picture of a brown-faced boy upon the sands, a boy turning a
lucky stone in his fingers as he dreamed of a glorious career in the
country of his birth. He turned to the emperor and spoke quietly, but
with his characteristic decision.
"Your majesty," said Uriah Levy, "I thank you. But the humblest
position in my country's service is more to be preferred than royal
favor." And bowing before Dom Pedro, he left the court.
Nor was Levy's trust in the justice of his country unfounded. Just as
he had persisted in bringing his mutinous crew to punishment, now he
showed the same determination in insisting that a court of inquiry be
established to question the justice of his court-martial. He prepared
his own defense--merely a statement of his record while in the service
of his country--a record that won his complete and honorable
acquittal. Not only was he restored to his old rank in the United
States Navy, but shortly afterwards he rose to the advanced rank of
commodore.
When the Civil War broke out he was holding the position of flag
officer, the highest rank in our navy at that time. The years had been
kind to the little cabin boy and his private inheritance had grown
into a considerable fortune. He had already purchased Monticello, the
home of his old idol, Thomas Jefferson, intending to preserve it as a
national shrine, and had presented a statue of the author of our
Declaration of Independence to the nation's Hall of Fame. Now he felt
that there was but one cause to which he cared to devote his wealth;
he sought an interview with President Lincoln and placed his entire
private fortune at the nation's disposal.
A few days later, his boyhood friend, Ned Allison, now crippled with
rheumatism but with a laugh as hearty and boyish as of old, visited
his former master. He found Uriah Levy grown frail and listless, the
fires of his youth beginning to burn low as he neared his seventieth
year. To be sure the commodore tried to rouse himself, asking after
Ned's children, and even laughing feebly at the latter's account of
his youngest grandson, "named Uriah Levy Allison, after you, sir," who
now toddled along the beach where the two boys had searched among the
pebbles so long ago.
"We didn't know we'd live to see two wars, did we, sir," mused
Allison, "when we were just lads playing before my father's shack.
Well, even if we're past our prime now, they can't say we didn't do
our part back in 1812," and he chuckled a little in his pride.
But Levy's eyes were sad. "We have lived a little too long, Allison,"
he said, gravely but without bitterness. "When this war broke out I
tried to help once more. But my offer of my entire fortune--and it was
little enough to offer my country--has been refused, although I am
allowed to subscribe to the war loan. Yet money means so little in a
time like this. Whenever I hear the call for volunteers, I am like the
old war horse that is turned out to grass. I am an old man now, nearly
seventy, and must sit at home by the fire. But it hurts a little,
Allison; it hurts a little."
For a while there was silence between them. When Allison rose to go,
Levy followed him to the door, stopping a moment at the drawer of his
desk to wrap a small package which he thrust into his old friend's
hand.
"'Tis for the boy, my name-sake," he explained. "The money will buy
him some toy--maybe a small vessel to sail when the tide is low--and
the other--," he laughed a little confusedly. "I found the trifle
among some old keepsakes and papers the other day when I put my
affairs in order. Give it to the boy and tell him of the day we found
it. And come again soon, Allison, and talk over old times."
Out in the street, Ned Allison removed the wrappings from the little
package. It contained a gold piece and a lucky stone with a bit of
soiled string still fastened through one of the holes.