were seen by the militiamen at the appointed rendezvous. But when the
ships dropped anchor, and the commodore went ashore to consult with
the officers of the land forces, he found that but nine hundred of the
militiamen had responded to the call. Nevertheless, it was determined,
after a brief consultation, to proceed with the expedition, despite
the sadly diminished strength of the militia battalions.
On the 23d of July, the fleet set sail from the harbor of Townsend. It
was an extraordinary and impressive spectacle. The shores of the
harbor were covered with unbroken forests, save at the lower end where
a little hamlet of scarce five hundred people gave a touch of
civilization to the wild scene. But the water looked as though the
commerce of a dozen cities had centred there. On the placid bosom of
the little bay floated forty-four vessels. The tread of men about the
capstans, the hoarse shouts of command, the monotonous songs of the
sailors, the creaking of cordage, and the flapping of sails gave an
unwonted turbulence to the air which seldom bore a sound other than
the voices of birds or the occasional blows of a woodman's axe.
Nineteen vessels-of-war and twenty-five transports imparted to the
harbor of Townsend an air of life and bustle to which it had been a
stranger, and which it has never since experienced.
The weather was clear, and the wind fair; so that two days after
leaving Townsend the fleet appeared before the works of the enemy.
Standing on the quarter-deck of the "Warren," the commodore and the
general eagerly scanned the enemy's defences, and after a careful
examination were forced to admit that the works they had to carry were
no mean specimens of the art of fortification. The river's banks rose
almost perpendicularly from the water-side, and on their crest were
perched the enemy's batteries, while on a high and precipitous hill
was built a fort or citadel. In the river were anchored the four armed
vessels.
Two days were spent by the Americans in reconnoitring the enemy's
works; and on the 28th of July the work of disembarking the troops
began, under a heavy fire from the enemy's batteries. The "Warren" and
one of the sloops-of-war endeavored to cover the landing party by
attacking the batteries; and a spirited cannonade followed, in which
the American flag-ship suffered seriously. At last all the militia,
together with three hundred marines, were put on shore, and at once
assaulted the batteries. They were opposed by about an equal number of
well-drilled Scotch regulars, and the battle raged fiercely; the
men-of-war in the river covering the advance of the troops by a
spirited and well-directed fire. More than once the curving line of
men rushed against the fiery front of the British ramparts, and
recoiled, shattered by the deadly volleys of the Scotch veterans. Here
and there, in the grass and weeds, the forms of dead men began to be
seen. The pitiable spectacle of the wounded, painfully crawling to the
rear, began to make the pulse of the bravest beat quicker. But the men
of Massachusetts, responsive to the voices of their officers,
re-formed their shattered ranks, and charged again and again, until at
last, with a mighty cheer, they swept over the ramparts, driving the
British out. Many of the enemy surrendered; more fled for shelter to
the fort on the hill. The smoke and din of battle died away. There
came a brief respite in the bloody strife. The Americans had won the
first trick in the bloody game of war.
Only a short pause followed; then the Americans moved upon the fort.
But here they found themselves overmatched. Against the towering
bastions of the fortress they might hurl themselves in vain. The
enemy, safe behind its heavy parapets, could mow down their advancing
ranks with a cool and deliberate fire. The assailants had already
sacrificed more than a hundred men. Was it wise now to order an
assault that might lead to the loss of twice that number?
The hotheads cried out for the immediate storming of the fort; but
cooler counsels prevailed, and a siege was decided upon. Trenches were
dug, the guns in the outlying batteries were turned upon the fort, and
the New Englanders sat down to wait until the enemy should be starved
out or until re-enforcements might be brought from Boston.
So for three weeks the combatants rested on their arms, glaring at
each other over the tops of their breastworks, and now and then
exchanging a shot or a casual volley, but doing little in the way of
actual hostilities. Provisions were failing the British, and they
began to feel that they were in a trap from which they could only
emerge through a surrender, when suddenly the situation was changed,
and the fortunes of war went against the Americans.
One morning the "Tyrannicide," which was stationed on the lookout down
the bay, was seen beating up the river, under a full press of sail.
Signals flying at her fore indicated that she had important news to
tell. Her anchor had not touched the bottom before a boat pushed off
from her side, and made straight for the commodore's flag-ship.
Reaching the "Warren," a lieutenant clambered over the side, and
saluted Commodore Saltonstall on the quarter-deck.
"Capt. Cathcart's compliments, sir," said he, "and five British
men-of-war are just entering the bay. The first one appears to be the
'Rainbow,' forty-four."
Here was news indeed. Though superior in numbers, the Americans were
far inferior in weight of metal. After a hasty consultation, it was
determined to abandon the siege, and retreat with troops and vessels
to the shallow waters of the Penobscot, whither the heavy men-of-war
of the enemy would be unable to follow them. Accordingly the troops
were hastily re-embarked, and a hurried flight began, which was
greatly accelerated by the appearance of the enemy coming up the
river.
The chase did not continue long before it became evident the enemy
would overhaul the retreating ships. Soon he came within range, and
opened fire with his bow-guns, in the hopes of crippling one of the
American ships. The fire was returned; and for several hours the
wooded shores of the Penobscot echoed and re-echoed the thunders of
the cannonade, as the warring fleets swept up the river.
At last the conviction forced itself on the minds of the Americans,
that for them there was no escape. The British were steadily gaining
upon them, and there was no sign of the shoal water in which they had
hoped to find a refuge. It would seem that a bold dash might have
carried the day for the Americans, so greatly did they outnumber their
enemies. But this plan does not appear to have suggested itself to
Capt. Saltonstall, who had concentrated all his efforts upon the
attempt to escape. When escape proved to be hopeless, his only thought
was to destroy his vessels. Accordingly his flag-ship, the "Warren,"
was run ashore, and set on fire. The action of the commodore was
imitated by the rest of the officers, and soon the banks of the river
were lined with blazing vessels. The "Hunter," the "Hampden," and one
transport fell into the hands of the British. The rest of the
forty-nine vessels--men-of-war, privateers, and transports--that made
up the fleet were destroyed by flames.
It must indeed have been a stirring spectacle. The shores of the
Penobscot River were then a trackless wilderness; the placid bosom of
the river itself had seldom been traversed by a heavier craft than the
slender birch-bark canoe of the red man; yet here was this river
crowded with shipping, the dark forests along its banks lighted up by
the glare of twoscore angry fires. Through the thickets and underbrush
parties of excited men broke their way, seeking for a common point of
meeting, out of range of the cannon of the enemy. The British,
meantime, were striving to extinguish the flames, but with little
success; and before the day ended, little remained of the great
Massachusetts flotilla, except the three captured ships and sundry
heaps of smouldering timber.
The hardships of the soldiers and marines who had escaped capture,
only to find themselves lost in the desolate forest, were of the
severest kind. Separating into parties they plodded along,
half-starved, with torn and rain-soaked clothing, until finally,
footsore and almost perishing, they reached the border settlements,
and were aided on their way to Boston. The disaster was complete, and
for months its depressing effect upon American naval enterprise was
observable.
In observing the course of naval events in 1779, it is noticeable that
the most effective work was done by the cruisers sent out by the
individual States, or by privateers. The United States navy, proper,
did little except what was done in European waters by Paul Jones.
Indeed, along the American coast, a few cruises in which no actions of
moment occurred, although several prizes were taken, make up the
record of naval activity for the year.
The first of these cruises was that made in April by the ships
"Warren," "Queen of France," and "Ranger." They sailed from Boston,
and were out but a few days when they captured a British privateer of
fourteen guns. From one of the sailors on this craft it was learned
that a large fleet of transports and storeships had just sailed from
New York, bound for Georgia. Crowding on all sail, the Americans set
out in pursuit, and off Cape Henry overhauled the chase. Two fleets
were sighted, one to windward numbering nine sail, and one to leeward
made up of ten sail. The pursuers chose the fleet to windward for
their prey, and by sharp work succeeded in capturing seven vessels in
eight hours. Two of the ships were armed cruisers of twenty-nine and
sixteen guns respectively, and all the prizes were heavy laden with
provisions, ammunition, and cavalry accoutrements. All were safely
taken into port.
In June, another fleet of United States vessels left Boston in search
of British game. The "Queen of France" and the "Ranger" were again
employed; but the "Warren" remained in port, fitting out for her
ill-fated expedition to the Penobscot. Her place was taken by the
"Providence," thirty-two. For a time the cruisers fell in with nothing
of importance. But one day about the middle of July, as the three
vessels lay hove to off the banks of Newfoundland, in the region of
perpetual fog, the dull booming of a signal gun was heard. Nothing was
to be seen on any side. From the quarter-deck, and from the
cross-trees alike, the eager eyes of the officers and seamen strove in
vain to penetrate the dense curtain of gray fog that shut them in. But
again the signal gun sounded, then another; and tone and direction
alike told that the two reports had not come from the same cannon.
Then a bell was heard telling the hour,--another, still another; then
a whole chorus of bells. Clearly a large fleet was shut in the fog.
[Illustration: Shortening Sail On The "Lancaster"--the Oldest U. S.
Cruiser In Commission.]
About eleven o'clock in the morning the fog lifted, and to their
intense surprise the crew of the "Queen of France" found themselves
close alongside of a large merchant-ship. As the fog cleared away more
completely, ships appeared on every side; and the astonished Yankees
found themselves in the midst of a fleet of about one hundred and
fifty sail under convoy of a British ship-of-the-line, and several
frigates and sloops-of-war. Luckily the United States vessels had no
colors flying, and nothing about them to betray their nationality: so
Capt. Rathburn of the "Queen" determined to try a little masquerading.
Bearing down upon the nearest merchantman, he hailed her; and the
following conversation ensued,--
"What fleet is this?"
"British merchantmen from Jamaica, bound for London. Who are you?"
"His Majesty's ship 'Arethusa,'" answered Rathburn boldly, "from
Halifax on cruise. Have you seen any Yankee privateers?"
"Ay, ay, sir," was the response. "Several have been driven out of the
fleet."
"Come aboard the 'Arethusa,' then. I wish to consult with you."
Soon a boat put off from the side of the merchantman, and a jolly
British sea-captain confidently clambered to the deck of the "Queen."
Great was his astonishment to be told that he was a prisoner, and to
see his boat's crew brought aboard, and their places taken by American
jackies. Back went the boat to the British ship; and soon the
Americans were in control of the craft, without in the least alarming
the other vessels, that lay almost within hail. The "Queen" then made
up to another ship, and captured her in the same manner.
But at this juncture Commodore Whipple, in the "Providence," hailed
the "Queen," and directed Rathburn to edge out of the fleet before the
British men-of-war should discover his true character. Rathburn
protested vigorously, pointing out the two vessels he had captured,
and urging Whipple to follow his example, and capture as many vessels
as he could in the same manner. Finally Whipple overcame his fears,
and adopted Rathburn's methods, with such success that shortly after
nightfall the Americans left the fleet, taking with them eleven rich
prizes. Eight of these they succeeded in taking safe to Boston, where
they were sold for more than a million dollars.
In May, 1779, occurred two unimportant engagements,--one off Sandy
Hook, in which the United States sloop "Providence," ten guns,
captured the British sloop "Diligent," after a brief but spirited
engagement; the second action occurred off St. Kitts, where the United
States brig "Retaliation" successfully resisted a vigorous attack by a
British cutter and a brig. The record of the regular navy for the year
closed with the cruise of the United States frigates "Deane" and
"Boston," that set sail from the Delaware late in the summer. They
kept the seas for nearly three months, but made only a few bloodless
captures.
The next year opened with a great disaster to the American cause. The
Count d'Estaing, after aimlessly wandering up and down the coast of
the United States with the fleet ostensibly sent to aid the Americans,
suddenly took himself and his fleet off to the West Indies. Sir Henry
Clinton soon learned of the departure of the French, and gathered an
expedition for the capture of Charleston. On the 10th of February,
Clinton with five thousand troops, and a British fleet under Admiral
Arbuthnot, appeared off Edisto Inlet, about thirty miles from
Charleston, and began leisurely preparations for an attack upon the
city. Had he pushed ahead and made his assault at once, he would have
met but little resistance; but his delay of over a month gave the
people of Charleston time to prepare for a spirited resistance.
The approach of the British fleet penned up in Charleston harbor
several United States men-of-war and armed vessels, among them the
"Providence," "Queen of France," "Boston," "Ranger," "Gen. Moultrie,"
and "Notre Dame." These vessels took an active part in the defence of
the harbor against Arbuthnot's fleet, but were beaten back. The
"Queen," the "Gen. Moultrie," and the "Notre Dame" were then sunk in
the channel to obstruct the progress of the enemy; their guns being
taken ashore, and mounted in the batteries on the sea-wall. Then
followed days of terror for Charleston. The land forces of the enemy
turned siege guns on the unhappy city, and a constant bombardment was
kept up from the hostile fleet. Fort Sumter, the batteries along the
water front, and the ships remaining to the Americans answered boldly.
But the defence was hopeless. The city was hemmed in by an iron
cordon. The hot-shot of the enemy's batteries were falling in the
streets, and flames were breaking out in all parts of the town. While
the defence lasted, the men-of-war took an active part in it; and,
indeed, the sailors were the last to consent to a surrender. So
noticeable was the activity of the frigate "Boston" in particular,
that, when it became evident that the Americans could hold out but a
little longer, Admiral Arbuthnot sent her commander a special order to
surrender.
"I do not think much of striking my flag to your present force,"
responded bluff Samuel Tucker, who commanded the "Boston;" "for I have
struck more of your flags than are now flying in this harbor."
But, despite this bold defiance, the inevitable capitulation soon
followed. Charleston fell into the hands of the British; and with the
city went the three men-of-war, "Providence," "Boston," and "Ranger."
It will be noticed that this disaster was the direct result of the
disappearance of Count d'Estaing and the French fleet. To the student
of history who calmly considers the record of our French naval allies
in the Revolution, there appears good reason to believe that their
presence did us more harm than good. Under De Grasse, the French fleet
did good service in co-operation with the allied armies in the
Yorktown campaign; but, with this single exception, no instance can be
cited of any material aid rendered by it to the American cause. The
United States navy, indeed, suffered on account of the French
alliance; for despite the loss of many vessels in 1779 and 1780,
Congress refused to increase the navy in any way, trusting to France
to care for America's interests on the seas. The result of this policy
was a notable falling-off in the number and spirit of naval actions.
The ship "Trumbull," twenty-eight, one of the exploits of which we
have already chronicled, saw a good deal of active service during the
last two years of the war; and though she finally fell into the hands
of the enemy, it was only because the odds against her were not to be
overcome by the most spirited resistance. It was on the 2d of June,
1780, that the "Trumbull," while cruising far out in the Atlantic
Ocean in the path of British merchantmen bound for the West Indies,
sighted a strange sail hull down to windward. The "Trumbull" was then
in command of Capt. James Nicholson, an able and plucky officer.
Immediately on hearing the report of the lookout, Nicholson ordered
all the canvas furled, in order that the stranger might not catch
sight of the "Trumbull." It is, of course, obvious that a ship under
bare poles is a far less conspicuous object upon the ocean, than is
the same ship with her yards hung with vast clouds of snowy canvas.
But apparently the stranger sighted the "Trumbull," and had no desire
to avoid her; for she bore down upon the American ship rapidly, and
showed no desire to avoid a meeting. Seeing this, Nicholson made sail,
and was soon close to the stranger. As the two ships drew closer
together, the stranger showed her character by firing three guns, and
hoisting the British colors.
Seeing an action impending, Nicholson called his crew aft and
harangued them, as was the custom before going into battle. It was not
a promising outlook for the American ship. She was but recently out of
port, and was manned largely by "green hands." The privateers had so
thoroughly stripped the decks of able seamen, that the "Trumbull" had
to ship men who knew not one rope from another; and it is even said,
that, when the drums beat to quarters the day of the battle, many of
the sailors were suffering from the landsman's terror, seasickness.
But what they lacked in experience, they made up in enthusiasm.
With the British flag at the peak, the "Trumbull" bore down upon the
enemy. But the stranger was not to be deceived by so hackneyed a
device. He set a private signal, and, as the Americans did not answer
it, let fly a broadside at one hundred yards distance. The "Trumbull"
responded with spirit, and the stars and stripes went fluttering to
the peak in the place of the British ensign. Then the thunder of
battle continued undiminished for two hours and a half. The wind was
light, and the vessels rode on an even keel nearly abreast of each
other, and but fifty yards apart. At times their yard-arms
interlocked; and still the heavy broadsides rang out, and the flying
shot crashed through beam and stanchion, striking down the men at
their guns, and covering the decks with blood. Twice the flying wads
of heavy paper from the enemy's guns set the "Trumbull" a-fire, and
once the British ship was endangered by the same cause.
At last the fire of the enemy slackened, and the Americans, seeing
victory within their grasp, redoubled their efforts; but at this
critical moment one of the gun-deck officers came running to
Nicholson, with the report that the main-mast had been repeatedly hit
by the enemy's shot, and was now tottering. If the main-mast went by
the board, the fate of the "Trumbull" was sealed. Crowding sail on
the other masts, the "Trumbull" shot ahead, and was soon out of the
line of fire, the enemy being apparently too much occupied with his
own injuries to molest her. Hardly had she gone the distance of a
musket-shot, when her main and mizzen top-masts went by the board; and
before the nimble jackies could cut away the wreck the other spars
followed, until nothing was left but the foremast. When the crashing
and confusion was over, the "Trumbull" lay a pitiable wreck, and an
easy prey for her foe.
But the Briton showed a strange disinclination to take advantage of
the opportunity. The Yankee sailors worked like mad in cutting away
the wreck; then rushed to their guns, ready to make a desperate, if
hopeless, resistance in case of an attack. But the attack never came.
Without even a parting shot the enemy went off on her course; and
before she was out of sight her main topmast was seen to fall, showing
that she too had suffered in the action.
Not for months after did the crew of the "Trumbull" learn the name of
the vessel they had fought. At last it was learned that she was a
heavy letter-of-marque, the "Watt." Her exact weight of metal has
never been ascertained, though Capt. Nicholson estimated it at
thirty-four or thirty-six guns. The "Trumbull" mounted thirty-six
guns. The captain of the "Watt" reported his loss to have been
ninety-two in killed and wounded; the loss of the "Trumbull" amounted
to thirty-nine, though two of her lieutenants were among the slain.
This action, in severity, ranked next to the famous naval duel between
the "Bon Homme Richard" and the "Serapis."
As the "Trumbull" fought her last battle under the flag of the United
States a year later, and as our consideration of the events of the
Revolution is drawing to a close, we may abandon chronological order,
and follow Nicholson and his good ship to the end of their career. In
August, 1781, the "Trumbull" left the Delaware, convoying twenty-eight
merchantmen, and accompanied by one privateer. Again her crew was
weakened by the scarcity of good seamen, and this time Nicholson had
adopted the dangerous and indefensible expedient of shipping British
prisoners-of-war. There were fifty of these renegades in the crew; and
naturally, as they were ready to traitorously abandon their own
country, they were equally ready for treachery to the flag under which
they sailed. There were many instances during the Revolution of
United States ships being manned largely by British prisoners. Usually
the crews thus obtained were treacherous and insubordinate. Even if it
had been otherwise, the custom was a bad one, and repugnant to
honorable men.
So with a crew half-trained and half-disaffected, the "Trumbull" set
out to convoy a fleet of merchantmen through waters frequented by
British men-of-war. Hardly had she passed the capes when three British
cruisers were made out astern. One, a frigate, gave chase. Night fell,
and in the darkness the "Trumbull" might have escaped with her
charges, but that a violent squall struck her, carrying away her
fore-topmast and main-top-gallant-mast. Her convoy scattered in all
directions, and by ten o'clock the British frigate had caught up with
the disabled American.
The night was still squally, with bursts of rain and fitful flashes of
lightning, which lighted up the decks of the American ship as she
tossed on the waves. The storm had left her in a sadly disabled
condition. The shattered top hamper had fallen forward, cumbering up
the forecastle, and so tangling the bow tackle that the jibs were
useless. The foresail was jammed and torn by the fore-topsail-yard.
There was half a day's work necessary to clear away the wreck, and the
steadily advancing lights of the British ship told that not half an
hour could be had to prepare for the battle.
There was no hope that resistance could be successful, but the brave
hearts of Nicholson and his officers recoiled from the thought of
tamely striking the flag without firing a shot. So the drummers were
ordered to beat the crew to quarters; and soon, by the light of the
battle-lanterns, the captains of the guns were calling over the names
of the sailors. The roll-call had proceeded but a short time when it
became evident that most of the British renegades were absent from
their stations. The officers and marines went below to find them.
While they were absent, others of the renegades, together with about
half of the crew whom they had tainted with their mutinous plottings,
put out the battle-lanterns, and hid themselves deep in the hold. At
this moment the enemy came up, and opened fire.
Determined to make some defence, Nicholson sent the few faithful
jackies to the guns, and the officers worked side by side with the
sailors. The few guns that were manned were served splendidly, and the
unequal contest was maintained for over an hour, when a second British
man-of-war came up, and the "Trumbull" was forced to strike. At no
time had more than forty of her people been at the guns. To this fact
is due the small loss of life; for, though the ship was terribly cut
up, only five of her crew were killed, and eleven wounded.
The frigate that had engaged the "Trumbull" was the "Iris," formerly
the "Hancock" captured from the Americans by the "Rainbow." She was
one of the largest of the American frigates, while the "Trumbull" was
one of the smallest. The contest, therefore, would have been unequal,
even had not so many elements of weakness contributed to the
"Trumbull's" discomfiture.
Taking up again the thread of our narrative of the events of 1780, we
find that for three months after the action between the "Trumbull" and
the "Watt" there were no naval actions of moment. Not until October
did a United States vessel again knock the tompions from her guns, and
give battle to an enemy. During that month the cruiser "Saratoga" fell
in with a hostile armed ship and two brigs. The action that followed
was brief, and the triumph of the Americans complete. One broadside
was fired by the "Saratoga;" then, closing with her foe, she threw
fifty men aboard, who drove the enemy below. But the gallant Americans
were not destined to profit by the results of their victory; for, as
they were making for the Delaware, the British seventy-four "Intrepid"
intercepted them, and recaptured all the prizes. The "Saratoga"
escaped capture, only to meet a sadder fate; for, as she never
returned to port, it is supposed that she foundered with all on board.
The autumn and winter passed without any further exploits on the part
of the navy. The number of the regular cruisers had been sadly
diminished, and several were kept blockaded in home ports. Along the
American coast the British cruisers fairly swarmed; and the only
chance for the few Yankee ships afloat was to keep at sea as much as
possible, and try to intercept the enemy's privateers, transports, and
merchantmen, on their way across the ocean.
One United States frigate, and that one a favorite ship in the navy,
was ordered abroad in February, 1781, and on her voyage did some
brave work for her country. This vessel was the "Alliance," once
under the treacherous command of the eccentric Landais, and since his
dismissal commanded by Capt. John Barry, of whose plucky fight in the
"Raleigh" we have already spoken. The "Alliance" sailed from Boston,
carrying an army officer on a mission to France. She made the voyage
without sighting an enemy. Having landed her passenger, she set out
from L'Orient, with the "Lafayette," forty, in company. The two
cruised together for three days, capturing two heavy privateers. They
then parted, and the "Alliance" continued her cruise alone.
On the 28th of May the lookout reported two sail in sight; and soon
the strangers altered their course, and bore down directly upon the
American frigate. It was late in the afternoon, and darkness set in
before the strangers were near enough for their character to be made
out. At dawn all eyes on the "Alliance" scanned the ocean in search of
the two vessels, which were then easily seen to be a sloop-of-war and
a brig. Over each floated the British colors.
A dead calm rested upon the waters. Canvas was spread on all the
ships, but flapped idly against the yards. Not the slightest motion
could be discerned, and none of the ships had steerage-way. The enemy
had evidently determined to fight; for before the sun rose red and
glowing from beneath the horizon, sweeps were seen protruding from the
sides of the two ships, and they gradually began to lessen the
distance between them and the American frigate. Capt. Barry had no
desire to avoid the conflict; though in a calm, the lighter vessels,
being manageable with sweeps, had greatly the advantage of the
"Alliance," which could only lie like a log upon the water. Six hours
of weary work with the sweeps passed before the enemy came near enough
to hail. The usual questions and answers were followed by the roar of
the cannon, and the action began. The prospects for the "Alliance"
were dreary indeed; for the enemy took positions on the quarters of
the helpless ship, and were able to pour in broadsides, while she
could respond only with a few of her aftermost guns. But, though the
case looked hopeless, the Americans fought on, hoping that a wind
might spring up, that would give the good ship "Alliance" at least a
fighting chance.
As Barry strode the quarter-deck, watching the progress of the fight,
encouraging his men, and looking out anxiously for indications of a
wind, a grape-shot struck him in the shoulder, and felled him to the
deck. He was on his feet again in an instant; and though weakened by
the pain, and the rapid flow of blood from the wound, he remained on
deck. At last, however, he became too weak to stand, and was carried
below. At this moment a flying shot carried away the American colors;
and, as the fire of the "Alliance" was stopped a moment for the
loading of the guns, the enemy thought the victory won, and cheered
lustily. But their triumph was of short duration; for a new ensign
soon took the place of the vanished one, and the fire of the
"Alliance" commenced again.
The "Alliance" was now getting into sore straits. The fire of the
enemy had told heavily upon her, and her fire in return had done but
little visible damage. As Capt. Barry lay on his berth, enfeebled by
the pain of his wound, and waiting for the surgeon's attention, a
lieutenant entered.
"The ship remains unmanageable, sir," said he. "The rigging is badly
cut up, and there is danger that the fore-topmast may go by the board.
The enemy's fire is telling on the hull, and the carpenter reports two
leaks. Eight or ten of the people are killed, and several officers
wounded. Have we your consent to striking the colors?"
"No, sir," roared out Barry, sitting bolt upright. "And, if this ship
can't be fought without me, I will be carried on deck."
The lieutenant returned with his report; and, when the story became
known to the crew, the jackies cheered for their dauntless commander.
"We'll stand by the old man, lads," said one of the petty officers.
"Ay, ay, that we will! We'll stick to him right manfully," was the
hearty response.
But now affairs began to look more hopeful for the "Alliance." Far
away a gentle rippling of the water rapidly approaching the ship gave
promise of wind. The quick eye of an old boatswain caught sight of it.
"A breeze, a breeze!" he cried; and the jackies took up the shout, and
sprang to their stations at the ropes, ready to take advantage of the
coming gust. Soon the breeze arrived, the idly flapping sails filled
out, the helmsman felt the responsive pressure of the water as he
leaned upon the wheel, the gentle ripple of the water alongside
gladdened the ears of the blue-jackets, the ship keeled over to
leeward, then swung around responsive to her helm, and the first
effective broadside went crashing into the side of the nearest
British vessel. After that, the conflict was short. Though the enemy
had nearly beaten the "Alliance" in the calm, they were no match for
her when she was able to manoeuvre. Their resistance was plucky; but
when Capt. Barry came on deck, with his wound dressed, he was just in
time to see the flags of both vessels come fluttering to the deck.
The two prizes proved to be the "Atlanta" sixteen, and the "Trepassy"
fourteen. Both were badly cut up, and together had suffered a loss of
forty-one men in killed and wounded. On the "Alliance" were eleven
dead, and twenty-one wounded. As the capture of the two vessels threw
about two hundred prisoners into the hands of the Americans, and as
the "Alliance" was already crowded with captives, Capt. Barry made a
cartel of the "Trepassy," and sent her into an English port with all
the prisoners. The "Atlanta" he manned with a prize crew, and sent to
Boston; but she unluckily fell in with a British cruiser in
Massachusetts Bay, and was retaken.
Once more before the cessation of hostilities between Great Britain
and the United States threw her out of commission, did the "Alliance"
exchange shots with a hostile man-of-war. It was in 1782, when the
noble frigate was engaged in bringing specie from the West Indies. She
had under convoy a vessel loaded with supplies, and the two had hardly
left Havana when some of the enemy's ships caught sight of them, and
gave chase. While the chase was in progress, a fifty-gun ship hove in
sight, and was soon made out to be a French frigate. Feeling that he
had an ally at hand, Barry now wore ship, and attacked the leading
vessel, and a spirited action followed, until the enemy, finding
himself hard pressed, signalled for his consorts, and Barry, seeing
that the French ship made no sign of coming to his aid, drew off.
Irritated by the failure of the French frigate to come to his
assistance, Barry bore down upon her and hailed. The French captain
declared that the manoeuvres of the "Alliance" and her antagonist had
made him suspect that the engagement was only a trick to draw him into
the power of the British fleet. He had feared that the "Alliance" had
been captured, and was being used as a decoy; but now that the matter
was made clear to him, he would join the "Alliance" in pursuit of the
enemy. This he did; but Barry soon found that the fifty was so slow a
sailer, that the "Alliance" might catch up with the British fleet, and
be knocked to pieces by their guns, before the Frenchman could get
within range. Accordingly he abandoned the chase in disgust, and
renewed his homeward course. Some years later, an American gentleman
travelling in Europe met the British naval officer who commanded the
frigate which Barry had engaged. This officer, then a vice-admiral,
declared that he had never before seen a ship so ably fought as was
the "Alliance," and acknowledged that the presence of his consorts
alone saved him a drubbing.
This engagement was the last fought by the "Alliance" during the
Revolution, and with it we practically complete our narrative of the
work of the regular navy during that war. One slight disaster to the
American cause alone remains to be mentioned. The "Confederacy," a
thirty-two-gun frigate built in 1778, was captured by the enemy in
1781. She was an unlucky ship, having been totally dismasted on her
first cruise, and captured by an overwhelming force on her second.
Though this chapter completes the story of the regular navy during the
Revolution, there remain many important naval events to be described
in an ensuing chapter. The work of the ships fitted out by Congress
was aided greatly by the armed cruisers furnished by individual
States, and privateers. Some of the exploits of these crafts and some
desultory maritime hostilities we shall describe in the next chapter.
And if the story of the United States navy, as told in these few
chapters, seems a record of events trivial as compared with the
gigantic naval struggles of 1812 and 1861, it must be remembered that
not only were naval architecture and ordnance in their infancy in
1776, but that the country was young, and its sailors unused to the
ways of war. But that country, young as it was, produced Paul Jones;
and it is to be questioned whether any naval war since has brought
forth a braver or nobler naval officer, or one more skilled in the
handling of a single ship-of-war.
The result of the war of the Revolution is known to all. A new nation
was created by it. These pages will perhaps convince their readers
that to the navy was due somewhat the creation of that nation. And if
to-day, in its power and might, the United States seems inclined to
throw off the navy and belittle its importance, let the memory of Paul
Jones and his colleagues be conjured up, to awaken the old enthusiasm
over the triumphs of the stars and stripes upon the waves.
CHAPTER XIV.
WORK OF THE PRIVATEERS. -- THE "GEN. HANCOCK" AND THE
"LEVANT." -- EXPLOITS OF THE "PICKERING." -- THE "REVENGE."
-- THE "HOLKAR." -- THE "CONGRESS" AND THE "SAVAGE." -- THE
"HYDER ALI" AND THE "GEN. MONK." -- THE WHALE-BOAT
HOSTILITIES. -- THE OLD JERSEY PRISON-SHIP.
To chronicle in full the myriad exploits and experiences of the
privateers and armed cruisers in the service of individual states
during the Revolution, would require a volume thrice the size of this.
Moreover, it is difficult and well-nigh impossible to obtain authentic
information regarding the movements of this class of armed craft. An
immense number of anecdotes of their prowess is current, and some few
such narratives will be repeated in this chapter; but, as a rule, they
are based only upon tradition, or the imperfect and often incorrect
reports in the newspapers of the day.
The loss inflicted upon Great Britain by the activity of American
privateers was colossal. For the first year of the war the Continental
Congress was unwilling to take so belligerent a step as to encourage
privateering; but, in the summer of 1776, the issuing of letters of
marque and reprisal was begun, and in a short time all New England had
gone to privateering. The ocean fairly swarmed with trim Yankee
schooners and brigs, and in the two years that followed nearly eight
hundred merchantmen were taken.
Discipline on the privateers was lax, and the profits of a successful
cruise were enormous. Often a new speedy craft paid her whole cost of
construction on her first cruise. The sailors fairly revelled in money
at the close of such a cruise; and, like true jack-tars, they made
their money fly as soon as they got ashore. A few days would generally
suffice to squander all the earnings of a two-months' cruise; and,
penniless but happy, Jack would ship for another bout with fortune.
A volume could be written dealing with the exploits of the privateers,
but for our purpose a few instances of their dash and spirit will be
enough. Though the purpose of the privateers was purely mercenary,
their chief end and aim being to capture defenceless merchantmen, yet
they were always ready to fight when fighting was necessary, and more
than once made a good showing against stronger and better disciplined
naval forces. In many cases audacity and dash more than made up for
the lack of strength.
In 1777 two American privateers hung about the British Isles, making
captures, and sending their prizes into French ports. The exploits of
Paul Jones were equalled by these irregular cruisers. One of them,
being in need of provisions, put into the little Irish port of
Beerhaven, and lay at anchor for ten hours, while her crew scoured the
town in search of the needed stores. A second privateer boldly entered
a harbor on the Island of Guernsey. A castle at the entrance of the
harbor opened fire upon her, whereupon she came about, and, keeping
out of range of the castle guns, captured a large brig that was making
for the port. When night fell, the privateer sent a boat's crew
ashore, and took captive two officers of the local militia.
In 1778 occurred an action between a private armed ship and a British
frigate, in which the privateer was signally successful. On the 19th
of September of that year, the "Gen. Hancock," a stout-built, well
armed and manned privateer, fell in with the "Levant," a British
frigate of thirty-two guns. The "Hancock" made no attempt to avoid a
conflict, and opened with a broadside without answering the enemy's
hail. The action was stubbornly contested upon both sides. After an
hour of fighting, the captain of the Yankee ship, peering through the
smoke, saw that the colors no longer waved above his adversary.
"Have you struck?" he shouted.
"No. Fire away," came the response faintly through the roar of the
cannon. Two hours longer the combat raged, with the ships lying
yard-arm to yard-arm. A ball struck Capt. Hardy of the "Hancock" in
the neck, and he was carried below, while the first lieutenant took
command of the ship. A few minutes later there arose a deafening roar
and blinding flash; a terrific shock threw the men on the American
ship to the deck. Stifling smoke darkened the atmosphere; and pieces
of timber, cordage, and even horribly torn bits of human flesh began
to fall upon the decks. When the smoke cleared away, the Americans
looked eagerly for their enemy. Where she had floated a minute or two
before, was now a shattered, blackened hulk fast sinking beneath the
waves. The surface of the sea for yards around was strewn with
wreckage, and here and there men could be seen struggling for life. As
ready to save life as they had been to destroy it, the Americans
lowered their boats and pulled about, picking up the survivors of the
explosion. The boatswain of the ill-fated ship and seventeen of the
crew were thus saved, but more than fourscore brave fellows went down
with her. The American vessel herself was damaged not a little by the
violence of the explosion.
This was not the only case during this year in which a British
man-of-war met defeat at the guns of a Yankee privateer. The
"Hinchinbrooke," sloop-of-war fourteen; the "York," tender twelve; and
the "Enterprise," ten guns,--all struck their colors to private armed
vessels flying the stars and stripes.
By 1778 the privateers under the British flag were afloat in no small
number. America had no commerce on which they might prey, and they
looked forward only to recapturing those British vessels that had been
taken by Yankee privateers and sent homeward. That so many British
vessels should have found profitable employment in this pursuit, is in
itself a speaking tribute to the activity of the American private
armed navy.
During the Revolution, as during the second war with Great Britain in
1812, Salem, Mass., and Baltimore, Md., were the principal points from
which privateers hailed. In all the early wars of the United States,
the term "Salem privateer" carried with it a picture of a fleet
schooner, manned with a picked crew of able seamen, commanded by a
lanky Yankee skipper who knew the byways of old ocean as well as the
highways of trade, armed with eight, four, or six pounders, and a
heavy "Long Tom" amidships. Scores of such craft sailed from Salem
during the Revolution; and hardly a week passed without two or three
returning privateers entering the little port and discharging their
crews, to keep the little village in a turmoil until their prize money
was spent, or, to use the sailors' phrase, until "no shot was left in
the locker."
One of the most successful of the Salem privateers was the
"Pickering," a craft carrying a battery of sixteen guns, and a crew of
forty-seven men. On one cruise she fought an engagement of an hour and
a half with a British cutter of twenty guns; and so roughly did she
handle the enemy, that he was glad to sheer off. A day of two later,
the "Pickering" overhauled the "Golden Eagle," a large schooner of
twenty-two guns and fifty-seven men. The action which followed was
ended by the schooner striking her flag. A prize crew was then put
aboard the "Golden Eagle," and she was ordered to follow in the wake
of her captor. Three days later the British sloop-of-war "Achilles"
hove in sight, and gave chase to the privateer and her prize. After a
fifteen hours' chase the prize was overhauled; and the sloop-of-war,
after taking possession of her, continued in pursuit of the privateer.
But while the privateersmen had preferred flight to fighting while
nothing was at stake, they did not propose to let their prize be taken
from them without a resistance, however great the odds against them.
Accordingly they permitted the "Achilles" to overhaul them, and a
sharp action followed. The British tried to force the combat by
boarding; but the Americans, with pikes and cutlasses, drove them back
to their own ship. Then the two vessels separated, and during the rest
of the conflict came no nearer each other than the length of a
pistol-shot. At this distance they carried on a spirited cannonade for
upwards of three hours; when the "Achilles," concluding that she had
had enough, sheered off. Thereupon, the "Pickering" coolly ran back to
her late prize, took possession of her, captured the lieutenant and
prize crew that the "Achilles" had put in charge of her, and continued
her cruise.
A good example of the Baltimore privateers was the "Revenge," mounting
eighteen guns, with a crew of fifty men. In 1780 this vessel was
commanded by Capt. Alexander Murray of the regular navy. She was
engaged by a large number of Baltimore merchants to convoy a fleet of
merchantmen, but had hardly started to sea with her charges when she
fell in with a fleet of British vessels, and was forced to retreat up
the Patuxent River. While there, the American fleet was strengthened
by several privateers and armed merchant-vessels which joined it, so
that it was felt safe to try again to get to sea. Accordingly the
attempt was made; but, though the captains of the fleet had signed a
solemn compact to stand together in case of the danger, the sudden
appearance of a fleet of hostile armed vessels sent all scurrying up
the Patuxent again, except one brig and a schooner. The British fleet
consisted of a ship of eighteen guns, a brig of sixteen, and three
privateer schooners. Leaving the schooners to his two faithful
consorts, Murray threw himself between the two larger vessels and the
flying merchantmen. Seeing themselves thus balked of their prey, the
enemy turned fiercely upon the "Revenge," but were met with so
spirited a resistance, that they hauled off after an hour's fighting.
The other American vessels behaved equally well, and the discomfiture
of the British was complete.
Philadelphia, though not looked upon as a centre of privateering
activity, furnished one privateer that made a notable record. This was
the "Holkar," sixteen guns. In April, 1780, she captured a British
schooner of ten guns, and in May of the same year she fought a
desperate action with a British privateer brig, the name of which has
never been ascertained. Twice the Briton sheered off to escape the
telling fire of the American; but the "Holkar" pressed him closely,
and only the appearance of a second British armed vessel at the scene
of the action saved the Englishman from capture. This battle was one
of the most sanguinary ever fought by private armed vessels; for of
the crew of the "Holkar" six were killed and sixteen wounded,
including the captain and first lieutenant, while of the enemy there
were about the same number killed and twenty wounded. Three months
later this same privateer fell in with the British sixteen-gun cutter
"Hypocrite," and captured her after a sharp conflict.
Perhaps the most audacious privateering exploit was that of the
privateers "Hero," "Hope," and "Swallow," in July, 1782. The captains
of these craft, meeting after an unprofitable season upon the high
seas, conceived the idea of making a descent upon the Nova Scotian
town of Lunenberg, some thirty-five miles from Halifax. Little time
was wasted in discussion. Privateers are not hampered by official red
tape. So it happened that early in the month the three privateers
appeared off the harbor of the threatened town, having landed a shore
party of ninety men. Before the invaders the inhabitants retreated
rapidly, making some slight resistance. Two block-houses, garrisoned
by British regulars, guarded the town. One of these fortresses the
Americans burned, whereupon the British established themselves in the
second, and prepared to stand a siege. Luckily for the Americans, the
block-house was within range of the harbor; so that the three
privateers took advantageous positions, and fired a few rounds of
solid shot into the enemy's wooden citadel. The besieged then made
haste to raise the white flag, and surrendered themselves
prisoners-of-war. When the Yankee ships left the harbor, they took
with them a large quantity of merchandise and provisions, and a
thousand pounds sterling by way of ransom.
One more conflict, in which the irregular naval forces of the United
States did credit to themselves, must be described before dismissing
the subject of privateering. In September, 1781, the British
sloop-of-war "Savage" was cruising off the southern coast of the
United States. Her officers and men were in a particularly good humor,
and felt a lively sense of self-satisfaction; for they had just
ascended the Potomac, and plundered Gen. Washington's estate,--an
exploit which would make them heroes in the eyes of their admiring
countrymen.
Off Charleston the "Savage" encountered the American privateer
"Congress," of about the same strength as herself,--twenty guns and
one hundred and fifty men. In one respect the "Congress" was the
weaker; for her crew was composed largely of landsmen, and her marines
were a company of militia, most of whom were sadly afflicted with
seasickness. Nevertheless, the Yankee craft rushed boldly into action,
opening fire with her bow-chasers as soon as she came within range.
Like two savage bull-dogs, the two ships rushed at each other,
disdaining all manoeuvring, and seemingly intent only upon locking in
a deadly struggle, yard-arm to yard-arm. At first the "Savage" won a
slight advantage. Swinging across the bow of the "Congress," she raked
her enemy twice. But soon the two ships lay side by side, and the
thunder of the cannon was constant. The militia-marines on the
"Congress" did good service. Stationed in the tops, on the forecastle,
the quarter-deck, and every elevated place on the ship, they poured
down upon the deck of the enemy a murderous fire. The jackies at the
great guns poured in broadsides so well directed that soon the
"Savage" had not a rope left with which to manage the sails. Her
quarter-deck was cleared, and not a man was to be seen to serve as a
mark for the American gunners. So near lay the two vessels to each
other, that the fire from the guns scorched the gunners on the
opposite ship. The antagonists were inextricably entangled; for the
mizzen-mast of the "Savage" had been shot away, and had fallen into
the after-rigging of the "Congress." There was no flight for the
weaker vessel. When she could no longer fight, surrender was her only
recourse. Neither vessel showed any colors, for both ensigns had been
shot away early in the action. Accordingly, when the boatswain of the
"Savage" was seen upon the forecastle wildly waving his arms, it was
taken as an evidence of surrender; and the fire slackened until his
voice could be heard.
"Give us quarter," he cried hoarsely; "we are a wreck, and strike our
flag."
The firing then ceased; but, when the lieutenant of the "Congress"
ordered a boat lowered in which to board the prize, the old boatswain
came back with the report,--
"Boats all knocked to pieces, sir. Couldn't find one that would
float."
Accordingly the two vessels had to be slowly drawn together, and the
boarding party reached the deck of the prize by clambering over a spar
which served as a bridge. When they reached the prize, they found her
decks covered with dead and wounded men. The slaughter had been
terrible. Twenty-three men were killed, and thirty-one wounded. On the
"Congress" were thirty, killed and wounded together. One of the
wounded Americans was found lying with his back braced against the
foot of the bowsprit, cheering for the victory, and crying,--
"If they have broken my legs, my hands and heart are still whole."
Throughout this sanguinary action both parties showed the greatest
courage and determination. Two vessels of the two most perfectly
organized regular navies in the world could not have been better
handled, nor could they have more stubbornly contested for the
victory.
A class of armed vessels outside the limits of the regular navy, but
very active and efficient in the service of the country, was the
maritime forces of the individual states. Before Congress had seen
the necessity for a naval force, several of the colonies had been
alive to the situation, and fitted out cruisers of their own. Even
after the Revolution had developed into a war of the first magnitude,
and after the colonies had assumed the title of states, and delegated
to Congress the duty of providing for the common defence, they still
continued to fit out their own men-of-war to protect their ports and
act as convoys for their merchant fleets. Though vessels in this
service seldom cruised far from the coast of their home colony, yet
occasionally they met the vessels of the enemy, and many sharp actions
were fought by them.
Of all the actions fought by the State cruisers, the most hotly
contested was that between the Pennsylvania cruiser "Hyder Ali," and
the British sloop-of-war "Gen. Monk." The "Hyder Ali" was a
merchantman, bought by the state just as she was about departing on a
voyage to the West Indies. She was in no way calculated for a
man-of-war; but the need was pressing, and she was pierced for eight
ports on a side, and provided with a battery of six-pounders. The
command of this vessel was given to Joshua Barney, a young officer
with an extensive experience of Yankee privateers and British prisons,
and whose later exploits in the United States navy are familiar to
readers of "Blue-Jackets of 1812."
Barney's instructions were, not to go to sea, but to patrol the
Delaware River and Bay, and see that no privateer lay in wait for the
merchant-vessels that cleared from the port of Philadelphia. In April,
1782, the "Hyder Ali" stood down Delaware Bay at the head of a large
fleet of outward-bound merchantmen. When Cape May was reached, strong
head-winds sprang up, and the whole fleet anchored to await more
favorable weather before putting out to sea. While they lay at anchor,
the "Hyder Ali" sighted a trio of British vessels, two ships and a
brig, rounding the cape. Instantly Barney signalled his convoy to trip
anchor and retreat, a signal which was promptly obeyed by all save one
too daring craft, that tried to slip round the cape, and get to sea,
but fell into the hands of the enemy. Soon the whole fleet, with the
"Hyder Ali" bringing up the rear, fled up the bay. The British
followed in hot pursuit.
At a point half-way up the bay the pursuers parted; one of the ships,
a frigate, cutting through a side channel in the hope of intercepting
the fugitives. The other two pursuers, a privateer brig and a
sloop-of-war, continued in the wake of the "Hyder Ali." The brig
proved herself a clipper, and soon came up with the American vessel,
which promptly offered battle. The challenge was declined by the
privateer, which fired a harmless broadside, and continued on up the
bay. Barney let her pass, for he had determined to risk the dangers of
an unequal combat with the sloop-of-war. This vessel came up rapidly;
and as she drew near Barney luffed up suddenly, and let fly a
broadside. This somewhat staggered the enemy, who had expected only a
tame surrender; but she quickly recovered, and came boldly on. At this
juncture Barney turned to his helmsman, and said,--
"Now, when I give the word, pay no attention to my order, but put the
helm hard-a-starboard. Pay no heed to the actual command I may give
you."
The British vessel was then within half pistol-shot, and her forward
guns were beginning to bear. From his station on the quarter-deck
Barney shouted to his steersman in stentorian tones,--
"Port your helm. Hard-a-port."
The order was clearly heard on board the enemy, and he prepared to
manoeuvre his ship accordingly. But the steersman of the "Hyder Ali"
remembered his instructions; and before the enemy discovered the ruse,
the American ship lay athwart the other's bow, and the bowsprit of the
enemy was caught in the "Hyder Ali's" rigging, giving the latter a
raking position. Quickly the Yankee gunners seized the opportunity.
Not five miles away was a British frigate ready to rush to the
assistance of her consort, and whatever was to be done by the bold
lads of Pennsylvania had to be done with expedition. No cheer rose
from their ranks; but with grim determination they worked at the great
guns, pouring in rapid and effective broadsides. The explosions of the
two batteries were like the deafening peals of thunder echoed and
re-echoed in some mountain-gorge. Smoke hid the vessels from sight,
and the riflemen in the tops could only occasionally catch sight of
the figures of the enemy. The enemy had twenty guns to Barney's
sixteen; but he was out-manoeuvred at the start, and this disadvantage
he never overcame. Half an hour from the time of the opening of the
battle, his flag was struck, and the Americans, with lusty cheers,
took possession of their prize. There was no time for ceremony. The
frigate had seen the conflict from afar, and was bearing down upon
the two antagonists. So without even asking the name of the captured
vessel, Barney hastily threw a prize crew aboard, ordered her to
proceed to Philadelphia, and himself remained behind to cover the
retreat.
Some hours later, having escaped the British frigate, the two vessels
sailed up to a Philadelphia wharf. The scars of battle had been in no
way healed: the tattered sails, the shattered hulls and bulwarks, the
cordage hanging loosely from the masts, told the story of battle. The
crowd that rushed to the wharf, and peered curiously about the decks
of the two vessels, saw a ghastly and horrible sight. For the battle
had been as sanguinary as it was spirited, and the dead still lay
where they fell. On the British vessel, the "Gen. Monk," lay the
lifeless bodies of twenty men; while twenty-six wounded, whose blood
stained the deck, lay groaning in the cock-pit below. On the "Hyder
Ali" were four killed and eleven wounded.
This action, for steadiness and brilliancy, was not surpassed by any
naval duel of the war of the Revolution. By it the name of Joshua
Barney was put upon a plane with those of the most eminent commanders
in the regular navy; and had not the war speedily terminated, he would
have been granted a commission and a ship by the United States.
While the chief naval events of the war for independence have now been
recounted, there still remain certain incidents connected more or less
closely with the war on the water, which deserve a passing mention.
One of these is the curious desultory warfare carried on in and about
New York Harbor by fishermen and longshoremen in whale-boats, dories,
sharpies, and similar small craft.
From 1776 until the close of the war, New York City and the region
bordering upon the harbor were occupied by the British. Provisions
were needed for their support, and were brought from Connecticut and
New Jersey in small sailing craft, chiefly whale-boats. These boats
the patriots often intercepted, and desperate encounters upon the
water were frequent. Nor did the Yankee boatmen confine their attacks
to the provision boats alone. In the summer of 1775 the British
transport "Blue Mountain Valley" was captured by a band of hardy
Jerseymen, who concealed themselves in the holds of four small
sail-boats until fairly alongside the enemy's vessel, when they
swarmed out and drove the British from the deck of their vessel.
Two New Jersey fishermen, Adam Hyler and William Marriner, were
particularly active in this class of warfare. Twice the British sent
armed forces to capture them, and, failing in that, burned their
boats. But the sturdy patriots were undaunted, and building new boats,
waged a relentless war against the followers of King George. Every
Tory that fished in the bay was forced to pay them tribute; and many
of these gentry, so obnoxious to the Yankees, were visited in their
homes at dead of night, and solemnly warned to show more moderation in
their disapproval of the American cause. When the occasion offered,
the two Jerseymen gathered armed bands, and more than one small
British vessel fell a prey to their midnight activity. Two British
corvettes were captured by them in Coney Island Bay, and burned to the
water's edge. With one of the blazing vessels forty thousand dollars
in specie was destroyed,--a fact that Hyler bitterly lamented when he
learned of it.
No narrative of the events of the Revolution would be complete,
without some description of the floating prison-houses in which the
British immured the hapless soldiers and sailors who fell into their
hands. Of these the chief one was a dismasted hulk known as the "Old
Jersey" prison-ship, and moored in Wallabout Bay near New York City.
No pen can adequately describe the horrors of this prison; but some
extracts from the published recollections of men once imprisoned in
her noisome hold will give some idea of the miserable fate of those
condemned to be imprisoned on her.
Thomas Andros, a sailor taken by the British with the privateer "Fair
American," writes of the "Old Jersey:" "This was an old sixty-four-gun
ship, which, through age, had become unfit for further actual service.
She was stripped of every spar and all her rigging. After a battle
with a French fleet, her lion figure-head was taken away to repair
another ship. No appearance of ornament was left, and nothing remained
but an old unsightly rotten hulk; and doubtless no other ship in the
British navy ever proved the means of the destruction of so many human
beings. It is computed that no less than eleven thousand American
seamen perished in her. When I first became an inmate of this abode of
suffering, despair, and death, there were about four hundred prisoners
on board; but in a short time they amounted to twelve hundred. In a
short time we had two hundred or more sick and dying lodged in the
forepart of the lower gun-deck, where all the prisoners were confined
at night. Utter derangement was a common symptom of yellow-fever; and
to increase the horror of the darkness that surrounded us (for we were
allowed no light between decks), the voice of warning would be heard,
'Take heed to yourselves. There is a madman stalking through the ship
with a knife in his hand,' I sometimes found the man a corpse in the
morning, by whose side I laid myself down at night. In the morning the
hatchways were thrown open; and we were allowed to ascend on the upper
deck all at once, and remain on the upper deck all day. But the first
object that met our view in the morning was an appalling spectacle,--a
boat loaded with dead bodies, conveying them to the Long Island shore,
where they were very slightly covered."
Ebenezer Fox, another privateersman, has left his recollections of
this dreadful prison. His description of the food upon which the
unhappy prisoners were forced to subsist is interesting:--
"Our bill of fare was as follows: on Sunday, one pound of biscuit, one
pound of pork, and half a pint of pease; Monday, one pound of biscuit,
one pint of oatmeal, and two ounces of butter; Tuesday, one pound of
biscuit, and two pounds of salt beef; Wednesday, one and a half pounds
of flour, and two ounces of suet; Thursday was a repetition of
Sunday's fare; Friday, of Monday's; and Saturday, of Tuesday's.
"If this food had been of good quality and properly cooked, as we had
no labor to perform, it would have kept us comfortable, at least from
suffering; but this was not the case. All our food appeared to be
damaged. As for the pork, we were cheated out of it more than half the
time; and when it was obtained, one would have judged from its motley
hues, exhibiting the consistence and appearance of variegated fancy
soap, that it was the flesh of the porpoise or sea-hog, and had been
an inhabitant of the ocean rather than of the stye. The pease were
generally damaged, and, from the imperfect manner in which they were
cooked, were about as indigestible as grape-shot. The butter the
reader will not suppose was the real 'Goshen;' and had it not been for
its adhesive properties to hold together the particles of the biscuit,
that had been so riddled by the worms as to lose all their attraction
of cohesion, we should have considered it no desirable addition to our
viands."
But it is unnecessary to prolong the painful description of the
horrors of this floating charnel house. Its name and record must ever
rest as a dark stain upon the name of England. It is seldom possible
in war-time to house and care for the immense hordes of
prisoners-of-war with the same regard for their comfort which is shown
ordinarily to convicted felons. War is brutal; it is unfeeling, and
the weaker party must always suffer. But such sufferings as those of
the "Old Jersey" captives can be excused upon no ground. There was no
need to crowd hundreds of men into a space hardly large enough for a
few score. To starve her prisoners, should not be part of a great
nation's policy. The one plea which England can urge in extenuation of
the "Old Jersey" is that it had its day at a time when those broad
principles of humanity, now so generally accepted, had not yet been
applied to the rules of war.
With this chapter ends the narrative of the naval events of the war of
the Revolution. It was not a great naval war, for the belligerent
nations were not sufficiently well matched in naval strength. But it
brought forth Paul Jones and more than one other brave and able
commander. It established a new flag upon the seas, a flag that has
ever since held an honorable position among the insignia of the
foremost nations of the earth. And in the war of the Revolution, as in
every war in which the United States has taken part since, there was
manifested the wonderful ability of the American people to rush into a
conflict half prepared, and gain daily in strength until the cause for
which they fight is won. In 1776 that cause was liberty, and in its
behalf none fought more bravely than the lads who wore the blue
jackets of the American navy.
CHAPTER XV.
THE NAVY DISBANDED. -- AGGRESSIONS OF BARBARY CORSAIRS. -- A
DISGRACEFUL TRIBUTE. -- BAINBRIDGE AND THE DEY. -- GEN.
EATON AT TUNIS. A SQUADRON SENT TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. --
DECATUR AND THE SPANIARDS. -- THE "ENTERPRISE" AND THE
"TRIPOLI." -- AMERICAN SLAVES IN ALGIERS.
Peace having been signed with Great Britain in 1783, the nucleus of a
navy then in existence was disbanded. Partly this was due to the
disinclination of the sturdy Republicans to keep a standing
establishment, either naval or military, in time of peace. The same
tendency of the American mind to disregard the adage, "In time of
peace, prepare for war," is observable to-day. But the chief reason
for the dissolution of the navy lay in the impossibility of collecting
funds to pay for its maintenance. The states had formed themselves
into a confederacy, but so jealously had each state guarded its
individual rights, that no power was left to the general government.
The navy being a creation of the general government, was therefore
left without means of support; and in 1785 the last remaining frigate,
the "Alliance," was sold because there was not enough money in the
treasury to pay for her needed repairs.
For eight years thereafter the nation remained without a navy. But
gradually there sprung up a very considerable maritime commerce under
the flag of the United States. The stars and stripes began to be a
familiar sight in sea-ports as far away as China and Japan. But as far
as it afforded any protection to the vessel above which it waved, that
banner might have been a meaningless bit of striped bunting. In 1785
the Dey of Algiers, looking to piracy for his income, sent his
piratical cruisers out into the Atlantic to seize upon the merchantmen
of the new nation that had no navy to enforce its authority. Two
vessels were captured, and their crews sold into disgraceful slavery
in Algiers.
When the first Congress of the United States under the present
Constitution assembled, President Washington called the attention of
the law-makers to the crying need for a navy. But war had set in
between Portugal and Algiers; the Algerian corsairs were blockaded in
their ports, and American vessels were enjoying a temporary immunity
from piratical attack. Therefore Congress hesitated.
But in 1793 peace was suddenly arranged between Portugal and Algiers.
Immediately the corsairs swarmed out of the Mediterranean Sea, and
swooped down upon the American merchantmen. In a few weeks four ships
were in their hands, and the gangs of white slaves in Tunis and
Tripoli were re-enforced by nearly two hundred luckless Yankee
sailors. Then Congress awoke, and ordered the immediate building of
six frigates. The ships were laid down, the work was well under way,
naval officers had been appointed, and every thing seemed to point to
the revival of the American navy, when a treaty was negotiated with
Algiers, and all work was stopped.
And what a treaty it was! By it the United States relinquished every
claim to the rights of a sovereign nation. It agreed to pay an annual
tribute to the piratical Dey, in consideration of his granting to
American vessels the right of travel on the high seas. And when some
slight delay occurred in making the first payment of tribute, the
obsequious government presented the Barbary corsair with a frigate, to
allay his wrath.
We must pass hastily over the time during which this iniquitous treaty
was in force. Suffice it to say, that by it the United States paid the
Dey more than a million dollars. For the same sum his piratical
establishment might have been scattered like the sands of the desert.
In May, 1800, it fell to the lot of Capt. William Bainbridge,
commanding the frigate "George Washington," to carry the annual
tribute to Algiers. On arriving there he was treated with contempt by
the Dey, who demanded that he put the "Washington" at the service of
Algiers, to carry her ambassador to Constantinople. "You pay me
tribute, by which you become my slaves," said the Dey; "I have
therefore a right to order you as I may think proper."
Bainbridge protested, but to no avail. He had anchored his frigate
under the guns of the Dey's castle, and to disobey meant capture and
slavery. Accordingly he complied, but despatched a letter to the
authorities at home, saying, "I hope I may never again be sent to
Algiers with tribute, unless I am authorized to deliver it from the
mouth of our cannon."
When Bainbridge reached the United States, after faithfully
discharging the errand of the Dey, he found that it was unlikely that
either he or any other officer would be forced to carry any further
tribute to the Barbary pirates. For, while the tribute paid to Algiers
had merely changed the attitude of that country from open hostility to
contemptuous forbearance, it had brought the other Barbary states
clamoring to the United States for tribute. Tunis and Tripoli demanded
blood-money; and each emphasized its demand by capturing a few Yankee
merchantmen, and selling their crews into slavery.
The agents or ambassadors sent by the United States to these powers
were treated with the utmost contempt; and while their lives were
often in danger, their property was always considered the fair prey of
the Barbarian ruler to whose domain they were sent. To Tunis was sent
Gen. William Eaton, an American politician, who has left a record of
his experiences in the land of the Bey. Some of the entries in his
journal are very pithy. Thus under the date of Aug. 11, 1799, he
wrote,--
"Some good friend had informed the Bey that I had an elegant Grecian
mirror in my house. To-day he sent a request for it, pretending that
he wanted it for the cabin of his pleasure-boat, now about to be
launched. So it is. If the consuls have a good piece of furniture, or
any other good thing which strikes the Bey's fancy, he never hesitates
to ask for it; and they have no alternative but to give it. They have
suffered this to become usance also.
"12th. Sent the Bey the mirror."
A letter from Gen. Eaton to the Secretary of State, in 1801, tells of
the capacity of the Bey. A fire in the regal palace destroyed fifty
thousand stand of small-arms. The next day the monarch ordered Eaton
to procure from the United States ten thousand stand to help make up
the loss. Eaton demurred. "The Bey did not send for you to ask your
advice," said the prime minister, "but to order you to communicate his
demands to your Government."
Eaton still protested, pointed out the fact that the United States had
already paid the Bey heavy tribute, and asked when these extortionate
demands were to end.
"Never," was the cool response; and the interview ended.
But by this time the United States authorities had perceived the error
they had committed in temporizing with the Barbary powers. They had
quieted Algiers by the payment of a heavy tribute, and the gift of a
frigate. But this had only excited the cupidity of the other petty
states. Tunis demanded like tribute. The Bashaw of Tripoli,
discontented with his share of the spoils, cut down the flagstaff
before the American consulate, and sent out his cruisers to prey upon
American commerce. Accordingly, on the 20th of May, 1801, the
Secretary of the Navy ordered a squadron prepared to proceed to the
Mediterranean, and bring the rapacious Arabs to terms.
The vessels chosen for this service were the "President," Commodore
Richard Dale; "Philadelphia," Capt. Barron; "Essex," Capt. Bainbridge;
and the schooner "Enterprise," Lieut.-Commandant Sterrett. Though the
fleet in itself was powerful, the commodore was hampered by the timid
and vacillating instructions of Congress. War had not been actually
declared, and he was therefore to commit no overt act of hostility.
The vessels of the fleet were to be employed simply to convoy American
merchantmen in and out of the Mediterranean Sea, and to be in
readiness to ward off any hostile action on the part of any of the
Barbary powers.
On July 1 the fleet entered the roadstead at Gibraltar, and anchored
in the shadow of the famous rock. Here the Americans found two of the
most rapacious of the Tripolitan corsairs lying at anchor; one a ship
of twenty-six guns under the command of the Tripolitan admiral, and
the other a brig of sixteen guns. To keep an eye on these piratical
worthies, the "Philadelphia" was ordered to remain at Gibraltar, while
the other vessels scattered. The "Essex" was ordered to cruise along
the northern shore of the Mediterranean, gathering up all the American
merchantmen, and convoying them to sea. The "President" and the
"Enterprise" made sail for Algiers, to convince the ruler of that
country that it would be impolitic for him to declare war against the
United States at that time. The desired effect was produced; for the
sight of an American frigate did more to tone down the harshness of
the Dey's utterances, than could the most extortionate tribute.
The cruise of the "Essex" was uneventful, save for a dispute between
the officers of the American man-of-war and a Spanish xebec in the
roads of Barcelona. The trouble arose in this wise:--
The "Essex," though a small vessel, was perfectly appointed, of
handsome model and appearance, and her crew was drilled to the highest
possible state of discipline and efficiency. When she cast anchor at
Barcelona, she straightway became the talk of the town, and her
officers became the lions of the hour, vastly to the disgust of the
Spaniards on the xebec lying in the same port. Accordingly they took
every opportunity to annoy the Americans, challenging the boats of the
"Essex" as they passed the xebec, and not scrupling to use abusive
language to Capt. Bainbridge himself. One night a boat, under command
of Lieut. Stephen Decatur, was brought under the guns of the xebec,
and held there while the Spaniards shouted insults from the deck
above. Decatur called for the officer in command, and remonstrated
with him, but receiving no satisfaction, ordered his men to shove off,
declaring he would call again in the morning.
Accordingly, in the forenoon of the following day, a boat from the
"Essex," with Decatur in the stern-sheets, made for the Spanish
vessel. Coming alongside, Decatur went on board, and asked for the
officer who had been in command the night previous. He was told that
the man he sought had gone ashore.
"Well, then," thundered Decatur, in tones that could be heard all over
the vessel, "tell him that Lieut. Decatur of the frigate 'Essex'
pronounces him a cowardly scoundrel, and when they meet on shore he
will cut his ears off." And having thrown this bombshell into the
enemy's camp, Decatur returned to his ship.
The duel was never fought, for the civil authorities bestirred
themselves to prevent it. But the matter was taken up by the United
States minister to Spain, who never permitted it to rest until the
fullest apology was made by Spain for the indignities to which the
American naval officers had been subjected.
After having collected a large number of merchantmen, and taken them
safely out of the reach of Tripolitan cruisers, the "Essex" showed her
colors in the chief Barbary ports, and rejoined the flag-ship in time
to return to the United States in December.
While the "Essex" had been thus pacificly employed, the little
schooner "Enterprise" had carried off the honors by fighting the first
and only pitched battle of the year. This little craft, after
accompanying the "President" to Algiers, was ordered to Malta. While
on the way thither she fell in with a polacre-rigged ship flying the
Tripolitan colors. Closer inspection showed her to be a notorious
corsair, well known for the constant and merciless warfare she waged
upon American merchantmen. The stars and stripes, floating at the peak
of the American man-of-war, alarmed the Moors, and they opened fire
without waiting for a hail. The "Enterprise" took up a position
alongside, and at a distance of less than a pistol-shot. Broadside
succeeded broadside in rapid succession. The aim of the Americans was
better than that of the enemy, and the effect of their fire was
observable whenever the breeze cleared away the dense smoke that hid
the vessels from each other. But the ordnance of both was light, so
that the combat was greatly prolonged. The vessels were almost equally
matched; for the "Enterprise" carried twelve guns and ninety men,
while the Tripolitan mounted fourteen guns, and had a crew of
eighty-five men.
For two hours the battle continued, and the roar of the cannon and the
rattle of small-arms were incessant. The day was calm and clear, with
the still, warm air prevalent in the Mediterranean. Hardly was the
breeze strong enough to carry away the sulphurous cloud of smoke that
formed the one blot on the fair surface of the fairest of all seas. At
last the Americans noticed that the fire of the enemy had ceased.
Eagerly they peered through the smoke, and when the outline of their
adversary could be made out, three ringing cheers told that the
Tripolitan flag waved no longer in its place. Leaving their guns, the
Americans were preparing to board the prize, when they were astonished
to receive another broadside, and see the colors of their adversary
again hoisted.
With cries of rage the Yankee seamen again went to quarters; and, if
they had fought boldly before, they now fought viciously. They cared
little to take the prize: their chief end was to send her, and the
treacherous corsairs that manned her, to the bottom. The Tripolitans
in their turn exerted every energy to conquer. Bringing their vessel
alongside the "Enterprise," they strove repeatedly to board, only to
be beaten back again and again. Finally, after receiving two raking
broadsides from the "Enterprise," she again struck her flag.
This time Capt. Sterrett was in no haste to consider the combat ended.
Keeping his men at the guns, he ordered the Tripolitan to come under
the quarter of the "Enterprise." But no sooner had the enemy done so
than she renewed the conflict for the third time, by attempting to
board.
"No quarter for the treacherous dogs," was then the cry on the
American vessel. "Fight on, and send them to the bottom."
The rest of the battle was wholly in favor of the "Enterprise."
Several times she raked her antagonist, doing great execution. Many
shots took effect between wind and water; and the cry arose on the
decks of the Tripolitan, that she was sinking. The "Enterprise" kept
at a safe distance, and by skilful sailing chose her own position, so
that she could pour in a deliberate and murderous fire. Bitterly were
the Tripolitans punished for their treachery. Their decks ran red with
blood, half of their officers were shot down, the cries of their
wounded rose shrill above the thunder of the cannon. Her flag was
struck, but to this the American gunners paid no heed. The repeated
treachery of the corsairs had left in the minds of the Yankee sailors
but one thought,--to send the ship to the bottom, and rid the ocean of
so pestiferous a craft.
But, enraged though they were, the Americans could not wholly cast
aside their feelings of humanity. Though they had been twice deceived,
they could not keep up their attack upon a vessel so sorely stricken
as to be unable to respond to their fire. And when at last the
commander of the Tripolitan, a venerable old man with a flowing beard,
appeared in the waist of the ship, sorely wounded, and, bowing
submissively, cast the colors of his vessel into the sea, then the
fire of the "Enterprise" ceased, although the usages of war would have
justified the Americans in exterminating their treacherous foe.
Having captured his enemy, Capt. Sterrett was in some uncertainty as
to what to do with it. The instructions under which he sailed gave him
no authority to take prizes. After some deliberation, he concluded to
rob the captured vessel, which proved to be the "Tripoli," of her
power for evil. Accordingly he sent Lieut. David Porter, the daring
naval officer of whose exploits we have already spoken in the
"Blue-Jackets of 1812," on board the prize, with instructions to
dismantle her. Porter carried out his instructions admirably. With
immense satisfaction the jackies he took with him forced the
Tripolitans to cut away their masts, throw overboard all their cannon,
cutlasses, pistols, and other arms; cut their sails to pieces; throw
all ammunition into the sea, and, to use a nautical expression, "strip
the ship to a girtline." One jury-mast and small sail alone was left.
Porter then pointed out to the crestfallen Tripolitan captain, Mahomet
Sons, that the "Enterprise" had not lost a man in the action, while of
the corsairs not less than fifty were either killed or wounded.
"Go," said he sternly to the cowering Mussulman, "go tell the Bashaw
of Tripoli, and the people of your country, that in future they may
expect only a tribute of powder and ball from the sailors of the
United States."
Amid the jeers and execrations of the Yankee tars, the crippled
Tripolitan hulk, with her dead and dying, drifted slowly away. When
she reached Tripoli, the anger of the Bashaw was unappeasable. He had
expected his cruiser to return freighted deep with plunder, and
crowded with American slaves. She had returned a dismantled hulk. In
vain her commander showed his wounds to his wrathful master, and told
of the size of his enemy, and the vigor of his resistance. The rage of
the Bashaw demanded a sacrifice, and the luckless Mahomet Sons was led
through the streets of Tripoli tied to a jackass. This in itself was
the deepest degradation possible for a Mussulman, but the Bashaw
supplemented it with five hundred bastinadoes well laid on. This
severe punishment, together with the repeated assertions of the
sailors of the defeated ship, that the dogs of Christians had fired
enchanted shot, so terrified the seafaring people of Tripoli that it
was almost impossible for the Bashaw to muster a ship's crew for a
year after.
[Illustration: Commodore Decatur.]
The battle between the "Enterprise" and the "Tripoli" alone saved the
first year of the war from being entirely puerile. Certain it is that
the distinguished naval officers who accompanied the fleet to the
Mediterranean were so hedged about with political red tape, that they
were powerless to take a step in defence of the honor of their
country. While they were empowered to rescue any American ship that
might be discovered in the grasp of a corsair, they were powerless to
attempt the rescue of the hundreds of Americans held by Bashaw, Bey,
and Dey as slaves. Commodore Dale, indeed, through diplomacy, managed
to free a few of the enslaved Americans. Having blockaded the
harbor of Tripoli with the frigate "President," he captured a Greek
vessel having a score or more of Tripolitan soldiers aboard. He then
sent word to the Bashaw that he would exchange these prisoners for an
equal number of Americans; but the monarch apparently cared little for
his subjects, for he replied that he would not give one American slave
for the whole lot. After much argument, an exchange was made upon the
basis of three Tripolitans to one Yankee.
It is hard, even at this late day, to regard the policy of the United
States towards the Barbary powers with feelings other than of
mortification. Tunis, Tripoli, Algiers, and Morocco constantly preyed
on our commerce, and enslaved our sailors. In the streets of Algiers
worked American slaves, chained together, and wearing iron collars
upon their necks. Their lives were the property of their owners, and
they suffered unheard of privations and tortures. Yet at this very
time the United States kept a consul in Algiers, and maintained
friendly relations with the Dey. Indeed, a historian writing in 1795
applauds the American Government for the care it took of its citizens
enslaved in Algiers, by providing each with a suit of clothing yearly!
But the continued aggressions and extortionate demands of the Barbary
powers became at last unbearable. The expedition to the Mediterranean,
under Commodore Dale, was but the premonitory muttering before the
storm. Dale returned to the United States in December, 1801, and his
report led to the organization of the naval expedition that was to
finally crush the piratical powers of Barbary.
CHAPTER XVI.
MORE VIGOROUS POLICY. -- COMMODORE MORRIS SENT TO THE
MEDITERRANEAN. -- PORTER'S CUTTING-OUT EXPEDITION. --
COMMODORE PREBLE SENT TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. -- HIS ENCOUNTER
WITH A BRITISH MAN-OF-WAR. -- THE LOSS OF THE
"PHILADELPHIA." -- DECATUR'S DARING ADVENTURE.
The return of Commodore Dale from the Mediterranean, and the reports
which he brought of the continued aggressions and insolence of the
Barbary powers, made a very marked change in the temper of the people
of the United States. Early in 1802 Congress passed laws, which,
though not in form a formal declaration of war, yet permitted the
vigorous prosecution of hostilities against Tripoli, Algiers, or any
other of the Barbary powers. A squadron was immediately ordered into
commission for the purpose of chastising the corsairs, and was put
under the command of Commodore Morris. The vessels detailed for this
service were the "Chesapeake," thirty-eight; "Constellation,"
thirty-eight; "New York," thirty-six; "John Adams," twenty-eight;
"Adams," twenty-eight; and "Enterprise," twelve. Some months were
occupied in getting the vessels into condition for sea; and while the
"Enterprise" started in February for the Mediterranean, it was not
until September that the last ship of the squadron followed her. It
will be remembered that the "Philadelphia" and "Essex," of Dale's
squadron, had been left in the Mediterranean; and as the "Boston,"
twenty-eight, had been ordered to cruise in those waters after
carrying United States Minister Livingstone to France, the power of
the Western Republic was well supported before the coast-line of
Barbary.
The "Enterprise" and the "Constellation" were the first of the
squadron to reach the Mediterranean, and they straightway proceeded to
Tripoli to begin the blockade of that port. One day, while the
"Constellation" was lying at anchor some miles from the town, the
lookout reported that a number of small craft were stealing along,
close in shore, and evidently trying to sneak into the harbor.
Immediately the anchor was raised, and the frigate set out in pursuit.
The strangers proved to be a number of Tripolitan gunboats, and for a
time it seemed as though they would be cut off by the swift-sailing
frigate. As they came within range, the "Constellation" opened a rapid
and well-directed fire, which soon drove the gunboats to protected
coves and inlets in the shore. The Americans then lowered their boats
with the intention of engaging the enemy alongshore, but at this
moment a large body of cavalry came galloping out from town to the
rescue. The Yankees, therefore, returned to their ship, and, after
firing a few broadsides at the cavalry, sailed away.
Thereafter, for nearly a year, the record of the American squadron in
the Mediterranean was uneventful. Commodore Morris showed little
disposition to push matters to an issue, but confined his operations
to sailing from port to port, and instituting brief and imperfect
blockades.
In April, 1803, the squadron narrowly escaped being seriously weakened
by the loss of the "New York." It was when this vessel was off Malta,
on her way to Tripoli in company with the "John Adams" and the
"Enterprise." The drums had just beat to grog; and the sailors, tin
cup in hand, were standing in a line on the main deck waiting their
turns at the grog-tub. Suddenly a loud explosion was heard, and the
lower part of the ship was filled with smoke.
"The magazine is on fire," was the appalling cry; and for a moment
confusion reigned everywhere. All knew that the explosion must have
been near the magazine. There was no one to command, for at the grog
hour the sailors are left to their own occupations. So the confusion
spread, and there seemed to be grave danger of a panic, when Capt.
Chauncey came on deck. A drummer passed hurriedly by him.
"Drummer, beat to quarters!" was the quick, sharp command of the
captain. The drummer stopped short, and in a moment the resonant roll
of the drum rose above the shouts and the tramping of feet. As the
well-known call rose on the air, the men regained their self-control,
and went quietly to their stations at the guns, as though preparing to
give battle to an enemy.
When order had been restored, Capt. Chauncey commanded the boats to be
lowered; but the effect of this was to arouse the panic again. The
people rushed from the guns, and crowded out upon the bowsprit, the
spritsail-yard, and the knightheads. Some leaped into the sea, and
swam for the nearest vessel. All strove to get as far from the
magazine as possible. This poltroonery disgusted Chauncey.
"Volunteers, follow me," he cried. "Remember, lads, it's just as well
to be blown through three decks as one."
So saying he plunged down the smoky hatchway, followed by Lieut. David
Porter and some other officers. Blinded and almost stifled by the
smoke, they groped their way to the seat of the danger. With wet
blankets, and buckets of water, they began to fight the flames. As
their efforts began to meet with success, one of the officers went on
deck, and succeeded in rallying the men, and forming two lines of
water-carriers. After two hours' hard work, the ship was saved.
The explosion was a serious one, many of the bulkheads having been
blown down, and nineteen officers and men seriously injured, of whom
fourteen died. It came near leading to a still more serious blunder;
for, when the flames broke out, the quartermaster was ordered to hoist
the signal, "A fire on board." In his trepidation he mistook the
signal, and announced, "A mutiny on board." Seeing this, Capt. Rodgers
of the "John Adams" beat his crew to quarters, and with shotted guns
and open ports took up a raking position astern of the "New York,"
ready to quell the supposed mutiny. Luckily he discovered his error
without causing loss of life.
For a month after this incident, the ships were detained at Malta
making repairs; but, near the end of May, the "John Adams," "Adams,"
"New York," and "Enterprise" took up the blockade of Tripoli. One
afternoon a number of merchant vessels succeeded in evading the
blockaders, and though cut off from the chief harbor of the town, yet
took refuge in the port of Old Tripoli. They were small lanteen-rigged
feluccas of light draught; and they threaded the narrow channels, and
skimmed over shoals whither the heavy men-of-war could not hope to
follow them. Scarcely had they reached the shore when preparations
were made for their defence against any cutting-out party the
Americans might send for their capture. On the shore near the spot
where the feluccas were beached, stood a heavy stone building, which
was taken possession of by a party of troops hastily despatched from
the city. The feluccas were laden with wheat, packed in sacks; and
these sacks were taken ashore in great numbers, and piled up on either
side of the great building so as to form breastworks. So well were the
works planned, that they formed an almost impregnable fortress. Behind
its walls the Tripolitans stood ready to defend their stranded
vessels.
That night Lieut. Porter took a light boat, and carefully reconnoitred
the position of the enemy. He was discovered, and driven away by a
heavy fire of musketry, but not before he had taken the bearings of
the feluccas and their defences. The next morning he volunteered to go
in and destroy the boats, and, having obtained permission, set out,
accompanied by Lieut. James Lawrence and a strong party of sailors.
There was no attempt at concealment or surprise. The Americans pushed
boldly forward, in the teeth of a heavy fire from the Tripolitans. No
attempt was made to return the fire, for the enemy was securely posted
behind his ramparts. The Yankees could only bend to their oars, and
press forward with all possible speed. At last the beach was reached,
and boats-prows grated upon the pebbly sand. Quickly the jackies
leaped from their places; and while some engaged the Tripolitans,
others, torch in hand, clambered upon the feluccas, and set fire to
the woodwork and the tarred cordage. When the flames had gained some
headway, the incendiaries returned to their boats, and made for the
squadron again, feeling confident that the Tripolitans could do
nothing to arrest the conflagration. But they had underestimated the
courage of the barbarians; for no sooner had the boats pushed off,
than the Tripolitans rushed down to the shore, and strained every
muscle for the preservation of their ships. The men-of-war rained
grape-shot upon them; but they persevered, and before Porter and his
followers regained their ships, the triumphant cries of the
Tripolitans gave notice the flames were extinguished. Porter had been
severely wounded in the thigh, and twelve or fifteen of his men had
been killed or wounded; so that the failure of the expedition to fully
accomplish its purpose was bitterly lamented. The loss of the enemy
was never definitely ascertained, though several were seen to fall
during the conflict. On both sides the most conspicuous gallantry was
shown; the fighting was at times almost hand to hand, and once,
embarrassed by the lack of ammunition, the Tripolitans seized heavy
stones, and hurled them down upon their assailants.
For some weeks after this occurrence, no conflict took place between
the belligerents. Commodore Morris, after vainly trying to negotiate a
peace with Tripoli, sailed away to Malta, leaving the "John Adams" and
the "Adams" to blockade the harbor. To them soon returned the
"Enterprise," and the three vessels soon after robbed the Bey of his
largest corsair.
On the night of the 21st of June, an unusual commotion about the
harbor led the Americans to suspect that an attempt was being made to
run the blockade. A strict watch was kept; and, before morning, the
"Enterprise" discovered a large cruiser sneaking along the coast
toward the harbor's mouth. The Tripolitan was heavy enough to have
blown the Yankee schooner out of the water; but, instead of engaging
her, she retreated to a small cove, and took up a favorable position
for action. Signals from the "Enterprise" soon brought the other
United States vessels to the spot; while in response to rockets and
signal guns from the corsair, a large body of Tripolitan cavalry came
galloping down the beach, and a detachment of nine gunboats came to
the assistance of the beleaguered craft.
No time was lost in manoeuvring. Taking up a position within
point-blank range, the "John Adams" and the "Enterprise" opened fire
on the enemy, who returned it with no less spirit. For forty-five
minutes the cannonade was unabated. The shot of the American gunners
were seen to hull the enemy repeatedly, and at last the Tripolitans
began to desert their ship. Over the rail and through the open ports
the panic-stricken corsairs dropped into the water. The shot of the
Yankees had made the ship's deck too hot a spot for the Tripolitans,
and they fled with great alacrity. When the last had left the ship,
the "John Adams" prepared to send boats to take possession of the
prize. But at this moment a boat-load of Tripolitans returned to the
corsair; and the Americans, thinking they were rallying, began again
their cannonade. Five minutes later, while the boat's-crew was still
on the Tripolitan ship, she blew up. The watchers heard a sudden
deafening roar; saw a volcanic burst of smoke; saw rising high above
the smoke the main and mizzen masts of the shattered vessel, with the
yards, rigging, and hamper attached. When the smoke cleared away, only
a shapeless hulk occupied the place where the proud corsair had so
recently floated. What caused the explosion, cannot be told. Were it
not for the fact that many of the Tripolitans were blown up with the
ship, it might be thought that she had been destroyed by her own
people.
After this encounter, the three United States vessels proceeded to
Malta. Here Commodore Morris found orders for his recall, and he
returned to the United States in the "Adams." In his place Commodore
Preble had been chosen to command the naval forces; and that officer,
with the "Constitution," forty-four, arrived in the Mediterranean in
September, 1802. Following him at brief intervals came the other
vessels of his squadron,--the "Vixen" twelve, "Siren" sixteen, and
"Argus" sixteen; the "Philadelphia" thirty-eight, and the "Nautilus"
twelve, having reached the Mediterranean before the commodore. Three
of these vessels were commanded by young officers, destined to win
enduring fame in the ensuing war,--Stephen Decatur, William
Bainbridge, and Richard Somers.
Before the last vessel of this fleet reached the Mediterranean, a
disaster had befallen one of the foremost vessels, which cost the
United States a good man-of-war, and forced a ship's crew of Yankee
seamen to pass two years of their lives in the cells of a Tripolitan
fortress. This vessel was the "Philadelphia," Capt. Bainbridge. She
had reached the Mediterranean in the latter part of August, and
signalled her arrival by overhauling and capturing the cruiser
"Meshboha," belonging to the emperor of Morocco. With the cruiser was
a small brig, which proved to be an American merchantman; and in her
hold were found the captain and seven men, tied hand and foot. Morocco
was then ostensibly on friendly terms with the United States, and
Bainbridge demanded of the captain of the cruiser by what right he had
captured an American vessel. To this the Moor returned, that he had
done so, anticipating a war which had not yet been declared.
"Then, sir," said Bainbridge sternly, "I must consider you as a
pirate, and shall treat you as such. I am going on deck for fifteen
minutes. If, when I return, you can show me no authority for your
depredations upon American commerce, I shall hang you at the
yard-arm."
So saying, Bainbridge left the cabin. In fifteen minutes he returned,
and, throwing the cabin doors open, stepped in with a file of marines
at his heels. In his hand he held his watch, and he cast upon the Moor
a look of stern inquiry. Not a word was said, but the prisoner
understood the dread import of that glance. Nervously he began to
unbutton the voluminous waistcoats which encircled his body, and from
an inner pocket of the fifth drew forth a folded paper. It was a
commission directing him to make prizes of all American craft that
might come in his path. No more complete evidence of the treachery of
Morocco could be desired. Bainbridge sent the paper to Commodore
Preble, and, after stopping at Gibraltar a day or two, proceeded to
his assigned position off the harbor of Tripoli.
In the latter part of October, the lookout on the "Philadelphia" spied
a vessel running into the harbor, and the frigate straightway set out
in chase. The fugitive showed a clean pair of heels; and as the shots
from the bow-chasers failed to take effect, and the water was
continually shoaling before the frigate's bow, the helm was put hard
down, and the frigate began to come about. But just at that moment she
ran upon a shelving rock, and in an instant was hard and fast aground.
The Americans were then in a most dangerous predicament. The sound of
the firing had drawn a swarm of gunboats out of the harbor of Tripoli,
and they were fast bearing down upon the helpless frigate. Every
possible expedient was tried for the release of the ship, but to no
avail. At last the gunboats, discovering her helpless condition,
crowded so thick about her that there was no course open but to
strike. And so, after flooding the magazine, throwing overboard all
the small-arms, and knocking holes in the bottom of the ship,
Bainbridge reluctantly surrendered.
Hardly had the flag touched the deck, when the gunboats were
alongside. If the Americans expected civilized treatment, they were
sadly mistaken, for an undisciplined rabble came swarming over the
taffrail. Lockers and chests were broken open, storerooms ransacked,
officers and men stripped of all the articles of finery they were
wearing. It was a scene of unbridled pillage, in which the Tripolitan
officers were as active as their men. An officer being held fast in
the grasp of two of the Tripolitans, a third would ransack his
pockets, and strip him of any property they might covet. Swords,
watches, jewels, and money were promptly confiscated by the captors;
and they even ripped the epaulets from the shoulders of the officers'
uniforms. No resistance was made, until one of the pilferers tried to
tear from Bainbridge an ivory miniature of his young and beautiful
wife. Wresting himself free, the captain knocked down the vandal, and
made so determined a resistance that his despoilers allowed him to
keep the picture.
When all the portable property was in the hands of the victors, the
Americans were loaded into boats, and taken ashore. It was then late
at night; but the captives were marched through the streets to the
palace of the Bashaw, and exhibited to that functionary. After
expressing great satisfaction at the capture, the Bashaw ordered the
sailors thrown into prison, while the officers remained that night as
his guests. He entertained them with an excellent supper, but the next
morning they were shown to the gloomy prison apartments that were
destined to be their home until the end of the war. Of their life
there we shall have more to say hereafter.
While this disaster had befallen the American cause before Tripoli,
Commodore Preble in the flag-ship "Constitution," accompanied by the
"Nautilus," had reached Gibraltar. There he found Commodore Rodgers,
whom he was to relieve, with the "New York" and the "John Adams."
Hardly had the commodore arrived, when the case of the captured
Morocco ship "Meshboha" was brought to his attention; and he
straightway went to Tangier to request the emperor to define his
position with regard to the United States. Though the time of
Commodore Rodgers on the Mediterranean station had expired, he
consented to accompany Preble to Tangier; and the combined squadrons
of the two commodores had so great an effect upon the emperor, that he
speedily concluded a treaty. Commodore Rodgers then sailed for the
United States, and Preble began his preparations for an active
prosecution of the war with Tripoli.
It was on the 31st of October that the "Philadelphia" fell into the
hands of the Tripolitans, but it was not until Nov. 27 that the news
of the disaster reached Commodore Preble and the other officers of the
squadron. Shortly after the receipt of the news, the commodore
proceeded with his flag-ship, accompanied by the "Enterprise," to
Tripoli, to renew the blockade which had been broken by the loss of
the "Philadelphia."
It was indeed high time that some life should be infused into the war
with Tripoli. Commodore Dale had been sent to the Mediterranean with
instructions that tied him hand and foot. Morris, who followed him,
was granted more discretion by Congress, but had not been given the
proper force. Now that Preble had arrived with a sufficient fleet,
warlike instructions, and a reputation for dash unexcelled by that of
any officer in the navy, the blue-jackets looked for some active
service. Foreign nations were beginning to speak scornfully of the
harmless antics of the United States fleet in the Mediterranean, and
the younger American officers had fought more than one duel with
foreigners to uphold the honor of the American service. They now
looked to Preble to give them a little active service. An incident
which occurred shortly after the arrival of the "Constitution" in the
Bay of Gibraltar convinced the American officers that their commodore
had plenty of fire and determination in his character.
One night the lookouts reported a large vessel alongside, and the hail
from the "Constitution" brought only a counter-hail from the stranger.
Both vessels continued to hail without any answer being returned, when
Preble came on deck. Taking the trumpet from the hand of the
quartermaster, he shouted,--
"I now hail you for the last time. If you do not answer, I'll fire a
shot into you."
"If you fire, I'll return a broadside," was the reply.
"I'd like to see you do it. I now hail you for an answer. What ship is
that?"
"This is H. B. M. ship 'Donegal,' eighty-four; Sir Richard Strachan,
an English commodore. Send a boat aboard."
"This is the United States ship 'Constitution,' forty-four," answered
Preble, in high dudgeon; "Edward Preble, an American commodore; and
I'll be d--d if I send a boat on board of any ship. Blow your matches,
boys!"
The Englishman saw a conflict coming, and sent a boat aboard with
profuse apologies. She was really the frigate "Maidstone," but being
in no condition for immediate battle had prolonged the hailing in
order to make needed preparations.
On the 23d of December, while the "Constitution" and "Enterprise" were
blockading Tripoli, the latter vessel overhauled and captured the
ketch "Mastico," freighted with female slaves that were being sent by
the Bashaw of Tripoli to the Porte, as a gift. The capture in itself
was unimportant, save for the use made of the ketch later.
The vessels of the blockading squadron, from their station outside the
bar, could see the captured "Philadelphia" riding lightly at her
moorings under the guns of the Tripolitan batteries. Her captors had
carefully repaired the injuries the Americans had inflicted upon the
vessel before surrendering. Her foremast was again in place, the holes
in her bottom were plugged, the scars of battle were effaced, and she
rode at anchor as pretty a frigate as ever delighted the eye of a tar.
From his captivity Bainbridge had written letters to Commodore Preble,
with postscripts written in lemon-juice, and illegible save when the
sheet of paper was exposed to the heat. In these postscripts he urged
the destruction of the "Philadelphia." Lieut. Stephen Decatur, in
command of the "Enterprise," eagerly seconded these proposals, and
proposed to cut into the port with the "Enterprise," and undertake the
destruction of the captured ship. Lieut.-Commander Stewart of the
"Nautilus" made the same proposition; but Preble rejected both, not
wishing to imperil a man-of-war on so hazardous an adventure.
The commodore, however, had a project of his own which he communicated
to Decatur, and in which that adventurous sailor heartily joined. This
plan was to convert the captured ketch into a man-of-war, man her with
volunteers, and with her attempt the perilous adventure of the
destruction of the "Philadelphia." The project once broached was
quickly carried into effect. The ketch was taken into the service, and
named the "Intrepid." News of the expedition spread throughout the
squadron, and many officers eagerly volunteered their services. When
the time was near at hand, Decatur called the crew of the "Enterprise"
together, told them of the plan of the proposed expedition, pointed
out its dangers, and called for volunteers. Every man and boy on the
vessel stepped forward, and begged to be taken. Decatur chose
sixty-two picked men, and was about to leave the deck, when his steps
were arrested by a young boy who begged hard to be taken.
"Why do you want to go, Jack?" asked the commodore.
"Well, sir," said Jack, "you see, I'd kinder like to see the country."
The oddity of the boy's reason struck Decatur's fancy, and he told
Jack to report with the rest.
On the night of Feb. 3, 1804, the "Intrepid," accompanied by the
"Siren," parted company with the rest of the fleet, and made for
Tripoli. The voyage was stormy and fatiguing. More than seventy men
were cooped up in the little ketch, which had quarters scarcely for a
score. The provisions which had been put aboard were in bad condition,
so that after the second day they had only bread and water upon which
to live. When they had reached the entrance to the harbor of Tripoli,
they were driven back by the fury of the gale, and forced to take
shelter in a neighboring cove. There they remained until the 15th,
repairing damages, and completing their preparations for the attack.
The weather having moderated, the two vessels left their place of
concealment, and shaped their course for Tripoli. On the way, Decatur
gave his forces careful instructions as to the method of attack. The
Americans were divided into several boarding parties, each with its
own officer and work. One party was to keep possession of the upper
deck, another was to carry the gun-deck, a third should drive the
enemy from the steerage, and so on. All were to carry pistols in their
belts; but the fighting, as far as possible, was to be done with
cutlasses, so that no noise might alarm the enemy in the batteries,
and the vessels in the port. One party was to hover near the
"Philadelphia" in a light boat, and kill all Tripolitans who might try
to escape to the shore by swimming. The watchword for the night was
"Philadelphia."
About noon, the "Intrepid" came in sight of the towers of Tripoli.
Both the ketch and the "Siren" had been so disguised that the enemy
could not recognize them, and they therefore stood boldly for the
harbor. As the wind was fresh, Decatur saw that he was likely to make
port before night; and he therefore dragged a cable and a number of
buckets astern to lessen his speed, fearing to take in sail, lest the
suspicions of the enemy should be aroused.
When within about five miles of the town, the "Philadelphia" became
visible. She floated lightly at her anchorage under the guns of two
heavy batteries. Behind her lay moored two Tripolitan cruisers, and
near by was a fleet of gunboats. It was a powerful stronghold into
which the Yankee blue-jackets were about to carry the torch.
About ten o'clock, the adventurers reached the harbor's mouth. The
wind had fallen so that the ketch was wafted slowly along over an
almost glassy sea. The "Siren" took up a position in the offing, while
the "Intrepid," with her devoted crew, steered straight for the
frigate. A new moon hung in the sky. From the city arose the soft low
murmur of the night. In the fleet all was still.
On the decks of the "Intrepid" but twelve men were visible. The rest
lay flat on the deck, in the shadow of the bulwarks or weather-boards.
Her course was laid straight for the bow of the frigate, which she was
to foul. When within a short distance, a hail came from the
"Philadelphia." In response, the pilot of the ketch answered, that the
ketch was a coaster from Malta, that she had lost her anchors in the
late gale, and had been nearly wrecked, and that she now asked
permission to ride by the frigate during the night. The people on the
frigate were wholly deceived, and sent out ropes to the ketch,
allowing one of the boats of the "Intrepid" to make a line fast to the
frigate. The ends of the ropes on the ketch were passed to the hidden
men, who pulled lustily upon them, thus bringing the little craft
alongside the frigate. But, as she came into clearer view, the
suspicions of the Tripolitans were aroused; and when at last the
anchors of the "Intrepid" were seen hanging in their places at the
catheads, the Tripolitans cried out that they had been deceived, and
warned the strangers to keep off. At the same moment the cry,
"Americanos! Americanos!" rang through the ship, and the alarm was
given.
By this time the ketch was fast to the frigate. "Follow me, lads,"
cried Decatur, and sprang for the chain-plates of the "Philadelphia."
Clinging there, he renewed his order to board; and the men sprang to
their feet, and were soon clambering on board the frigate. Lieut.
Morris first trod the deck of the "Philadelphia," Decatur followed
close after, and then the stream of men over the rail and through the
open ports was constant. Complete as was the surprise, the entire
absence of any resistance was astonishing. Few of the Turks had
weapons in their hands, and those who had fled before the advancing
Americans. On all sides the splashing of water told that the
affrighted Turks were trying to make their escape that way. In ten
minutes Decatur and his men had complete possession of the ship.
Doubtless at that moment the successful adventurers bitterly regretted
that they could not take out of the harbor the noble frigate they had
so nobly recaptured. But the orders of the commodore, and the dangers
of their own situation, left them no choice. Nothing was to be done
but to set fire to the frigate, and retreat with all possible
expedition. The combustibles were brought from the ketch, and piled
about the frigate, and lighted. So quickly was the work done, and so
rapidly did the flames spread, that the people who lit the fires in
the storerooms and cock-pit had scarce time to get on deck before
their retreat was cut off by the flames. Before the ketch could be
cast off from the sides of the frigate, the flames came pouring out of
the port-holes, and flaming sparks fell aboard the smaller vessel, so
that the ammunition which lay piled amidships was in grave danger of
being exploded. Axes and cutlasses were swung with a will; and soon
the bonds which held the two vessels together were cut, and the ketch
was pushed off. Then the blue-jackets bent to their sweeps, and soon
the "Intrepid" was under good headway.
"Now, lads," cried Decatur, "give them three cheers."
And the jackies responded with ringing cheers, that mingled with the
roar of the flames that now had the frame of the "Philadelphia" in
their control. Then they grasped their sweeps again, and the little
vessel glided away through a hail of grape and round shot from the
Tripolitan batteries and men-of-war. Though the whistle of the
missiles was incessant, and the splash of round-shot striking the
water could be heard on every side, no one in the boat was hurt; and
the only shot that touched the ketch went harmlessly through her
main-sail. As they pulled away, they saw the flames catch the rigging
of the "Philadelphia," and run high up the masts. Then the hatchways
were burst open, and great gusts of flame leaped out. The shotted guns
of the frigate were discharged in quick succession; one battery
sending its iron messengers into the streets of Tripoli, while the
guns on the other side bore upon Fort English. The angry glare of the
flames, and the flash of the cannon, lighted up the bay; while the
thunders of the cannonade, and the cries of the Tripolitans, told of
the storm that was raging.
The ruddy light of the burning ship bore good news to two anxious
parties of Decatur's friends. Capt. Bainbridge and the other American
officers whom the Tripolitans had captured with the "Philadelphia"
were imprisoned in a tower looking out upon the bay. The rapid thunder
of the cannonade on this eventful night awakened them; and they rushed
to their windows, to see the "Philadelphia," the Bashaw's boasted
prize, in flames. Right lustily they added their cheers to the general
tumult, nor ceased their demonstrations of joy until a surly guard
came and ordered them from the windows.
Far out to sea another band of watchers hailed the light of the
conflagration with joy. The "Siren" had gone into the offing when the
"Intrepid" entered the harbor, and there awaited with intense anxiety
the outcome of the adventure. After an hour's suspense, a rocket was
seen to mount into the sky, and burst over Tripoli. It was the signal
of success agreed upon. Boats were quickly lowered, and sent to the
harbor's mouth to meet and cover the retreat of the returning party.
Hardly had they left the side of the ship, when the red light in the
sky told that the "Philadelphia" was burning; and an hour later
Decatur himself sprang over the taffrail, and proudly announced his
victory.
Not a man had been lost in the whole affair. As the expedition had
been perfect in conception, so it was perfect in execution. The
adventure became the talk of all Europe. Lord Nelson, England's
greatest admiral, said of it, "It was the most bold and daring act of
the ages." And when the news reached the United States, Decatur,
despite his youth, was made a captain.
CHAPTER XVII.
A STIRRING YEAR. -- THE BOMBARDMENT OF TRIPOLI. -- DECATUR'S
HAND-TO-HAND FIGHT. -- LIEUT. TRIPPE'S BRAVERY. -- LIEUT.
SPENCE'S BOLD DEED. -- SOMERS'S NARROW ESCAPE. -- THE
FLOATING MINE. -- THE FATAL EXPLOSION. -- CLOSE OF THE WAR.
-- THE END.
Decatur's brilliant exploit set the key-note for the year 1804; and,
for the remainder of that year, the Americans carried on the war with
no less spirit and dash. A high degree of daring had been infused into
the men by so notable an example; and long before the year was out,
the blue-jackets began to consider themselves invincible, and were
ready to undertake any exploit for which their services might be
required.
The lesser events of the year, we must pass over hastily. The
maintenance of the blockade of Tripoli led to one or two slight
actions, and an occasional capture of little consequence. Thus, in
March, the "Siren" captured the "Transfer," privateer, which was
trying to run the blockade. A month or two later, a coasting felucca,
loaded with supplies, was chased ashore near Tripoli, and two boats'
crews were sent to take possession of her. The Tripolitans, as usual,
sent out a body of cavalry to protect the felucca, and the Americans
were driven off. Thereupon the American blockading squadron took up a
position within range, and threw solid shot into the felucca until she
was a complete wreck. Nor did the Tripolitan cavalry escape without a
shot or two.
But while the smaller vessels of the Mediterranean squadron were
enforcing the blockade before Tripoli, Commodore Preble, with the
flag-ship and the larger vessels, was at Malta preparing for a
vigorous attack upon the city of the Bashaw itself. He had added to
the fleet he had brought with him from the United States two
bomb-vessels and six gunboats. He had also added somewhat to the
armament of the "Constitution," and now proposed to try the effect
upon Tripoli of a vigorous bombardment. By the 21st of July, the
commodore was able to leave Malta with his fleet, fully prepared for
active hostilities.