The Boys of 1812
AND
OTHER NAVAL HEROES

THE BOYS OF '61;

Or, Four Years of Fighting. By Charles Carleton Coffin. Fully illustrated. 8vo. Cloth. Gilt.

THE BOYS OF 1812,

And Other Naval Heroes. By Prof. J. Russell Soley. Illustrated from original drawings. 8vo. Cloth. Gilt.

IN PREPARATION.

SAILOR BOYS OF '61.

By Prof. J. Russell Soley.

"THE CUTLASS BREAKS AT THE HILT."

The Boys of 1812
AND OTHER NAVAL HEROES

BY

JAMES RUSSELL SOLEY

AUTHOR OF "THE BLOCKADE AND THE CRUISERS"

BOSTON

PUBLISHED BY ESTES AND LAURIAT

Copyright, 1887,

By Estes and Lauriat.

University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE BOYS OF 1812,
AND
OTHER NAVAL HEROES.

CHAPTER I.

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NAVY.

Simply to defend themselves against the tyrannical encroachments of the mother country was all that the thirteen colonies had in view when, in 1775, they took up arms against Great Britain. At this time the people hoped, and many of them expected, that by making a determined resistance they would induce the King and Parliament to treat them with fairness, and to give them their rights as English citizens. It was only gradually, during the summer and autumn of the first year,—after the battle had been fought at Bunker Hill, and after Washington had been for some time in command of the army which was laying siege to Boston, that they began to feel that they could make a new nation by themselves, and that independence was a thing that was worth fighting for, even though it cost a long and bloody struggle, in which all of them would pass through bitter suffering and many would give up their very lives.

As we look back upon it now, it is wonderful to think what a daring thing it was for this small and scattered people, living in their little towns along the seacoast from Maine to Georgia, or on farms and plantations in the country, without an army or navy, without generals, and above all without money,—for money is needed to carry on war more than almost anything else,—to have thus made up their minds to stand up bravely and manfully against such a power as Great Britain (one of the greatest in the world), with all her troops and ships and immense revenues. That we should have come out successfully from a contest so unequal seems little short of marvellous; and we cannot but think that it was the hand of an overruling Destiny that enabled us to succeed, by giving us a general as skilful and prudent as Washington, statesmen as wise as Franklin and Jefferson and Adams, an enemy as indolent as Sir William Howe, and allies as powerful as our good friends the French.

Still, even from the beginning the colonists had some reason to hope for success, at least in the war on land. They had no standing army, it is true, but they were not without experience in the business of fighting. In the Seven Years' War, which had come to an end only twelve years before, they had furnished the soldiers who filled the ranks of the English armies on American soil. These were the men who had fought the bloody battles at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and whom the gallant Wolfe had led on the Plains of Abraham. The veterans of the old war were as ready to shoulder their muskets to protect themselves against the tyranny of the King as against the incursions of their Canadian and Indian neighbors. They knew something, too, of the soldiers who would be sent to subdue them, and what they had seen did not give them much reason to be afraid. They knew how hard it was for an invading army, thousands of miles away from home, marching through a thinly-settled country that was filled with enemies, to protect itself from those incessant and harassing attacks that wear out its strength and destroy little by little all its confidence and pluck. They knew that these gayly-dressed redcoats, who made war according to rule, would find a new kind of work before them among the wooded hills and valleys of America, where every patriot was fighting for his own homestead, where every farmer was a woodsman, and where every woodsman was a crack shot. When that quiet but observant young Virginian, Major Washington, went out with Braddock on his expedition against Fort Duquesne, and saw how the gallant Colonel of the Guards insisted blindly upon following in the backwoods his Old World tactics, and how easily his regulars were defeated in consequence, he learned something that he never afterward forgot; for neither Howe nor Clinton nor Earl Cornwallis himself was the man to teach him a new lesson.

But all this was fighting on land. At sea, the colonists had had no such training. The mother country, with her great fleets, had needed no help from them in her sea-fights, and indeed was rather jealous of any attempts that they might make toward a colonial navy. The colonists in the old wars had fitted out a few privateers that harried the enemy's commerce, but real naval warfare was wholly unknown to them. They had had no ships-of-war of their own to serve in, and such of them as had been admitted into the Royal Navy under the King's commission remained in it almost to a man.

On the ocean, therefore, the colonists were badly off, for Great Britain was here the worst enemy they could have. Her wooden walls had always been her chief reliance, and from the days when Drake and Howard and Raleigh defeated the Great Armada of Spain, they had asserted and maintained British supremacy at sea. During this long period of two hundred years the names of England's great naval captains had been a terror to all her enemies. There was Robert Blake, who beat off the Dutch, when Tromp sailed across the channel with a broom at his masthead as a sign that he would sweep the English from the seas. There were Sir Cloudesley Shovel and Sir George Rooke, who worsted the French in the great battle of Cape La Hogue; there was the doughty old Benbow, who, deserted by his captains, with his single ship kept at bay the squadron of M. Ducasse in the West Indies; there was Boscawen, who captured the fortress at Louisburg; Hawke and Anson, and finally Rodney and Howe, already famous, and destined to become yet more so in the war that was just begun.

The fleets that these famous admirals led into action were composed of line-of-battle ships,—immense structures, with two, three, or even four gun-decks, some of them carrying as many as one hundred guns, and the smallest of them rated at sixty-four. After these came the frigates, which had only one gun-deck, but which carried a battery on the spar-deck also. These were not thought of sufficient strength to be really counted as a part of the fighting force, although the largest size, the 50-gun frigates, were sometimes taken into the line of battle. But generally they served as scouts or outposts for the great fleets, or they cruised by twos and threes in light squadrons, or even singly, to attack privateers or unarmed merchantmen, or to make a raid on unprotected coasts and seaports, or to carry orders to the different stations. For all these uses they were of great service, being generally faster than the line-of-battle ships, and yet carrying guns enough to make them formidable to all the lesser craft. After the frigates came the sloops-of-war, ship-sloops, and brig-sloops, as the English called them; not the little boats with one mast that we are accustomed to call sloops, but square-rigged vessels with three or two masts, as the case might be, and carrying twenty guns or so. With all these three classes of vessels the British were well supplied, and the larger ships carried what at that day were heavy guns, 18-pounders and 24-pounders. In 1775, when the war broke out, the Royal Navy numbered one hundred line-of-battle ships, one hundred and fifty frigates, and three hundred of the smaller vessels, and before the war ended it had two hundred and fifty thousand seamen in its service.

The colonies, on the other hand, began the struggle without a single armed vessel afloat. They had merchantmen which they could fit out as privateers to cruise against the British merchantmen, but they had nothing that could stand up against a ship-of-war. Even in guns they were sadly deficient; for though there were scattered here and there in the colonies a few 12-pounders and 9-pounders, they had to depend largely upon sixes and fours, which were not much better than popguns; while of eighteens and twenty-fours they had scarcely any for naval use. Sailors they had, to be sure, all along the coast from New England down; and especially in the northern part there were numbers of bold and hardy men who had followed the sea since they were boys, some in fishing-smacks that made long voyages to the Banks, some in coasters, and some in the large merchant-ships that traded at ports beyond the sea. But of what use are sailors without ships or guns? Besides, as the Continental Navy was slow in forming, many of the best men went into the army, which promised an easier life, or into the privateer service, which held out greater prospects of reward; and when the navy finally got to work, it was very hard to man the vessels.

"BOLD AND HARDY MEN WHO HAD FOLLOWED THE SEA SINCE THEY WERE BOYS."

In spite of all these discouragements, the leaders in the country boldly resolved that they would face Great Britain on the sea as well as on the land. They bought or built their little ships, fitted them out with guns and stores that were partly captured from the British, manned them with crews from the sturdy mariners along the coast, and sent them forth to war upon the enemy as best they might,—by capturing his transports and storeships, by fighting his smaller cruisers when they could be found alone, and sometimes even by daring raids upon his very coasts. Their officers were volunteers from the merchant service; and though hardly any had ever served in ships-of-war, there were some among them whose name and fame have lived to our own day, and will live forever,—Biddle and Manley, Paul Jones and Conyngham, Barry and Barney, and Wickes and Dale,—the first men to show that American naval officers can hold their own against any others in the world.

The beginnings of the Continental Navy were made by Washington. When on July 3, 1775, he took command of the army under the old elm-tree at Cambridge in Massachusetts, he had a discouraging task before him. Not only was it necessary for him to organize the troops and train them in the art of war, but they had to be supplied with arms and ammunition and all kinds of equipments. Not only was there a scarcity of money to buy these things, but the things themselves were hardly to be got in the colonies either for love or money. At the battle of Bunker Hill the patriots had retired, not because they were beaten, but because their ammunition was exhausted. During the whole summer Washington was writing to the governors of the neighboring colonies, entreating them to send him a little powder and lead. "No quantity," he said, "however small, is beneath notice."

All this time the British, securely established in Boston, were receiving supplies of all kinds from England. Though they were three thousand miles away from home, they could get what they needed with more certainty than the colonists, who were fighting in their own country: of such importance is it in war to have the control of the sea. Washington himself saw this, and he determined to dispute the control with the enemy by sending out little vessels, just strong enough to attack the transports and storeships coming to Boston. So he despatched to the north shore, as it is called, to Beverly and Salem and Marblehead, two of his trusted officers, Colonel John Glover of Marblehead, and Stephen Moylan, the Muster-master-general of the army, to procure and fit out the vessels. Late in October the first two schooners got to sea, the "Lynch" and "Franklin," under Captain Broughton, who sailed for the Gulf of St. Lawrence to intercept ships bound for Quebec. Ten days later Moylan and Glover, by dint of hard work, got off two more of these diminutive cruisers,—the "Lee," under Captain John Manley, and the "Warren," under Captain Adams of the New Hampshire troops. These were also schooners, and carried each four 4-pounders and ten swivels,—little guns throwing a half-pound bullet mounted on pivots on the gunwales, just as gatlings are mounted to-day. Each had fifty men, most of whom were drafted from the army; but there was hardly any ammunition to spare for them, and it went against the grain to give them twenty rounds for each gun, which was all they carried.

At Plymouth, also, Washington had his small navy-yard, but it gave him more trouble than it was worth. The schooner "Harrison," under Captain Coit of Connecticut, was here, though she was old and weak; and a larger ship, the "Washington." The "Washington" was a fine brigantine, and she mounted ten carriage guns which had been brought by boats and wagons from Bristol. But her captain, Martindale, was too ambitious, and wished his ship to have all the equipments of a real man-of-war. The general and his aides, Reed and Moylan, who had the work in charge, were sorely tried by all this useless preparation, which delayed the vessel during the precious weeks of autumn, when she should have been at sea. "Shall we ever hear," wrote Moylan in the middle of November, "of Captain Martindale's departure?" For he knew that the captain's business was to seize the English stores, and to let ships-of-war alone. Coit's schooner, also, the "Harrison," was delayed in port, and the sailors were troublesome. "They are soured by the severity of the season," wrote the agent, "and are longing for the leeks and onions of Connecticut." By the third week in November the two ships got out; but the brigantine was presently captured by an enemy's frigate, which showed that the general's apprehensions had been right from the beginning. So the navy, especially the Plymouth fleet, was a source of much anxiety and discouragement to him during the month of November.

But suddenly the tide turned, for on the 29th of that month the news came from Cape Ann that the "Lee" was in, and that Manley had captured the brigantine "Nancy," loaded with all kinds of military stores. We can fancy how the general must have felt as he read the invoice of her stores: two thousand muskets and bayonets, thirty-one tons of musket-shot, three thousand round shot for 12-pounders, eight thousand fuzes, one hundred and fifty carcasses,—great frames for combustibles to set buildings on fire,—a 13-inch mortar, two 6-pounders, and several barrels of powder, besides great quantities of other valuable stores. No wonder he sent Colonel Glover and Mr. Palfrey in hot haste to the Cape to raise the minute-men from all the neighboring towns and land the stores, and bring them under escort to headquarters! And the same day he wrote to the President of Congress to tell him of Manley's fine capture, and said: "I sincerely congratulate you, sir, on this great acquisition; it more than repays all that has been spent in fitting out the squadron."

Manley was off to sea again in a day or two, and a week later he captured three more vessels, the cargoes of which were sold, some of them bringing a high price. For these services Manley was placed by Congress on the list of Continental captains, and put in command of a frigate. His schooner, the "Lee," was given to Captain Waters, who cruised in her for several months, capturing a number of transports with troops on board.

The other vessels also took their share of prizes, even the leaky old "Harrison" bringing in a sloop and a schooner. Broughton's ships, the "Lynch" and the "Franklin," seized several vessels that were supposed to belong to Tories, but most of these were released. After their return the "Franklin" was given to James Mugford, a daring Marblehead captain. This was in the spring after the British had evacuated Boston, but ships laden with supplies were still coming to America. One of these, the "Hope," of six guns, fell in with Mugford near Boston, and he determined to attack her, though an English squadron was in sight not many miles away. He had just boarded her, when the English captain ordered his men to cut the topsail-halliards, so that the ship would be delayed until the squadron could come up. But Mugford roared out that any man who carried out the order would suffer instant death, and no one dared to move. The prize had fifteen hundred barrels of powder in her hold, and it was almost hopeless to try to get her into the harbor by the usual channel in the face of the enemy's fleet. But just then the "Lee" came up, and Captain Waters, who knew every shoal and winding passage in Boston harbor, told Mugford he would carry her in through Shirley Gut, a narrow channel where none of the English ships would dare to follow her. He made good his promise; for though the "Hope" did run ashore on Handkerchief Shoal, he got her off, and brought her with her precious cargo safely into Boston.

"HE SENT COLONEL GLOVER AND MR. PALFREY IN HOT HASTE TO RAISE THE MINUTE-MEN."

Poor Mugford did not long survive his exploit; for, leaving port a few days later by this same Shirley Gut, he too grounded, and while he was lying hard and fast, the boats from the enemy's fleet put off to capture him. There were three times as many men as Mugford had on board the "Franklin;" but he gave them a warm reception with his muskets and such guns as he could bring to bear. They came alongside and prepared to board; but as soon as any of them put their hands upon the rail, the crew hacked them off with cutlasses. Mugford himself was in the hottest of it, and as he leaned over the gunwale a bullet struck him in the breast. He called his first lieutenant and said to him, "I am a dead man: do not give up the vessel; you will be able to beat them off." And so he died; but the enemy were driven back, with two of their boats lost, and the ship was saved.

While General Washington was making his beginning of a Continental navy about Boston, aided by the Massachusetts people, the other colonies were working by themselves in the same direction. In Long Island Sound, on the Hudson River, in the Delaware and Chesapeake bays, and along the inlets of the southern coast, flotillas were fitted out to protect the towns and to prey upon the enemy's commerce. In October, 1775, the Continental Congress, which was then in session at Philadelphia, following the example of Washington, decided to have a navy for the general service of the colonies. With this early movement Stephen Hopkins, a delegate from Rhode Island, had much to do; for Narragansett Bay with its thriving farms and plantations offered a tempting prize to the British raiders, whom the little colony would find it hard to keep off. There were others, too, who took a deep interest in the project,—above all John Adams, and Silas Deane of Connecticut, and Robert Morris of Pennsylvania. Through their efforts a beginning was made by purchasing two brigs, the "Lexington" and "Providence." These were followed by two larger vessels, the "Alfred" and "Columbus," carrying each about twenty 9-pounders. Then two more brigs were bought, the "Andrew Doria" and the "Cabot," which like Washington's schooners carried only 4-pounders, though they had more of them. The "Lexington" went to sea alone, but the others were assembled at Philadelphia in December, ready to start out as the first Continental squadron.

It was not an easy thing to select a commander for the new squadron, for there was hardly a man in the colonies who had seen any naval service. Young Nicholas Biddle, of Philadelphia, had been a midshipman in the Royal Navy, and had resigned his post to fight for his country; but he was thought to be too young, though he had seen more real service than his fellow officers. Finally, Hopkins's brother, Esek Hopkins, an old Rhode Island sea-captain who had been made a brigadier-general, was chosen to command the force. His son John was made captain of one of the ships, and his cousin Abraham Whipple of another, while Hazard, who was also a Rhode Islander, was assigned to the "Providence." Biddle, who, as it turned out, was the best of them all, was given the little brig "Doria." From an obscure place in Virginia, far away in the country, came a letter from a young Scotchman named Paul Jones, who had followed the sea from his boyhood but had finally settled in America, asking them that he might have a commission. Although no one knew much of him, he was offered one of the smaller brigs; but he preferred to go at first as a lieutenant, and he was placed on board the "Alfred," the commodore's flagship.

The squadron was fitted out to cruise upon the southern coast; but it was frozen up for six weeks in Delaware Bay, and when it sailed in February, 1776, it made first for the Bahama Islands. It came to anchor off Abaco, the northernmost of the islands. Here the commodore learned that there was a fort, with many guns and a great quantity of powder, but defended only by a feeble garrison, at New Providence, on the Island of Nassau, the same place which afterward gained such fame during the Rebellion as the refuge of the blockade-runners. Commodore Hopkins resolved to attempt its capture, but advancing incautiously with his whole fleet, gave a timely warning to the inhabitants; and the governor, who till that moment had not dreamed of the near approach of an enemy, succeeded in getting his powder to a place of safety. The marines were landed and marched to the fort, which they captured with little difficulty. The guns were taken, as well as all the stores except the powder, and the governor was carried off a prisoner.

The squadron had now accomplished such results that Hopkins thought it best to defer his operations on the southern coast, and made sail for home. He arrived safely in New London, meeting only one of the enemy's ships on the way, with which he had a battle; but neither side could claim the victory. The captured guns were sent off to the points where they were needed most, and Commodore Hopkins went to Philadelphia. But Congress was not very well satisfied with him, especially the Southern delegates, who had been promised protection for their shores. The old commodore, too, was fussy and impatient, and as he stayed on in Philadelphia, everybody began to grow tired of him; and finally Congress passed a resolution in which they announced to him, rather harshly perhaps, that they had no further use for his services. No doubt he had meant well; but he was too old to be the leader of the new Continental Navy, and this is the last we shall hear of him.

Before the squadron started on its cruise Congress had undertaken more ambitious measures. Thirteen frigates were ordered to be built, and different places were selected where the work should be done, so that whatever part of the country the British might overrun, some of the new ships might be finished and sent out. Thus the "Raleigh" was built at Portsmouth, the "Hancock" and "Boston" in Massachusetts, the "Warren" and "Providence" in Rhode Island, the "Trumbull" in Connecticut, and the "Virginia" at Baltimore. Of the other six, two were begun at Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson, and four at Philadelphia; but the only one of the six that got to sea was the "Randolph," of Philadelphia, the others being destroyed at one time or another to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy. More vessels were built later, and a few were bought in Europe; but among them all there were no line-of-battle ships, and even for frigates they were not very large or strong. But they were the best that the colonies could get; there was not money enough to build great fleets, and there were not guns enough to arm them. Few and small as they were, they performed their part, and no small part it was, in showing the King and the Parliament that the colonies were thoroughly in earnest in the struggle upon which they had entered, and that they would spare no labor, and would encounter any danger, in order to secure their independence.

CHAPTER II.

BIDDLE AND THE "RANDOLPH."

There were two men in Hopkins's squadron who far excelled all the others in those qualities of energy, courage, and intelligence that are most required in a naval officer. These were Biddle, the captain of the "Andrew Doria," and Paul Jones, the lieutenant of the "Alfred." Jones was at this time twenty-eight years old; the son of a Scotch gardener, he was born and brought up on the shores of the Solway Frith. Across the Frith lay the prosperous seaport of Whitehaven; and the boy when twelve years old was apprenticed to a merchant of the place, who traded with America, and his first voyage had been to Virginia. At a later time he had served in a slaver; but leaving this distasteful occupation, he became the master of a ship in the West India trade, and finally had drifted to Virginia, where he had made his home two years before the outbreak of the war.

After the squadron returned to New London, Jones was given command of the brig "Providence," and in August he set off on a cruise to the eastward. His ship was small, but she was smart and handy, and Jones was the man to make her do her best. Presently he fell in with two frigates of the enemy; but he got away from them after an exciting chase. A few days afterward, while his ship was hove to, and his crew were fishing, another English frigate came up,—the "Milford." Hastily calling his men to their stations, he started off to try his speed with the new-comer, for she was far too strong for him to attack or even to resist. He soon found that he could outsail her, which was just as good; and shortening sail, he allowed the "Milford" to come up a little. Then he started ahead again, and so continued backing and filling, just to tease her, as it were. The frigate turned and gave him a broadside which fell short, and which he answered in derision by ordering a marine to fire a musket. Finally he left the "Milford" and went on his way to the fishing settlements in the eastern provinces, capturing the enemy's merchantmen right and left, wherever he could find them. He raided the harbor of Canso, to the great alarm of the inhabitants, and broke up the fishery. Then he crossed over to Île Madame, where he destroyed the shipping. By this time his ship was so loaded down with prisoners that he was obliged to put about for home, where he arrived safely in October, having been out six weeks and taken sixteen prizes.

After a month in port Jones started on a second cruise. This time he took with him the "Providence" and also the "Alfred,"—the ship of which he had been first lieutenant on the expedition to Nassau. Another raid was made on Canso, and another batch of prizes was captured. One of these, the "Mellish," had a cargo of clothing which was intended for the enemy's troops, but which was needed even more by our own army, at this time just beginning its winter campaign. When he came home from this second cruise, Jones thought he had shown by what he had done that he deserved a better ship, and Congress thought so too; and after some little delay he was appointed to the new sloop-of-war "Ranger," which was building at Portsmouth, and in which during the following year he entered upon a new and larger field of operations.

NICHOLAS BIDDLE.

About the time that Jones took command of the "Providence," his companion in the squadron, Nicholas Biddle, was sent out in the brig "Doria" on a cruise to the Banks. Biddle was at this time twenty-five years old. He was born in Philadelphia, and had begun life as a sailor before the mast at the age of fourteen. On his second voyage he was wrecked in the West Indies, and narrowly escaped with his life. Afterward he went to London, and in 1770, when a war was threatened between Great Britain and Spain, he obtained an appointment as midshipman in the Royal Navy under Captain Stirling. War did not break out, however, and young Biddle joined the exploring expedition under Commodore Phipps, which sought to reach the North Pole by the way of Spitzbergen. On the same expedition was another youngster, by name Horatio Nelson, who was destined afterward to lead the English fleet to victory at the battles of the Nile and Trafalgar. After the return of Phipps's ships, Biddle left the navy and came home to take his part in the war that was now beginning. His first commission, from the Committee of Safety in Philadelphia, was signed by its president, Benjamin Franklin, and appointed him "Captain of the Provincial Armed Boat called the 'Franklin,' fitted out for the protection of the Province of Pennsylvania, and the Commerce of the River Delaware against all hostile enterprises, and for the defence of American Liberty." But when Congress formed its first squadron, under Commodore Hopkins, he was transferred to the Continental Navy. The "Doria," which Biddle commanded on the expedition to Nassau, and which he was now to take on her first independent cruise, carried an armament of fourteen 4-pounders, which, as I have said, were little better than popguns, and of course unfit for fighting with a ship-of-war. Her crew numbered one hundred men. On her way out, the "Doria" made three prizes. Off Newfoundland she captured two transports, with four hundred troops on board. Any ordinary man would have found it a difficult task to dispose of so many prizes and prisoners; but Biddle had served in the navy, and he knew what discipline meant. Manning the captured ships from his crew, he filled their places on board the "Doria" with prisoners, and started to return home. On the way back, six more vessels were taken. These were manned in the same way, by stripping the brig of her sailors and taking the best of the prisoners to do their work. Finally the "Doria" arrived at Philadelphia, with all her prisoners and with only five men left of her original crew. It would have been hard to find another man in the service, even if it were Paul Jones himself, who could have kept in check such a ship's company as that. One of the prizes was wrecked, and another recaptured, but the rest got safely into port.

Congress now began to realize that this young fellow of five-and-twenty was one of the very best officers in its employ; and indeed if he had been made at the start the commander-in-chief of our forces afloat, instead of an old weather-beaten merchant captain like Hopkins, his experience and skill and impetuous bravery would beyond a doubt have raised the navy to the highest point of excellence of which its scanty resources were capable. He was appointed to command the "Randolph," which had lately been launched at Philadelphia. She was one of the best of the new ships, but she had been hurriedly built,—too hurriedly, as was shown on her first cruise; for no sooner had Biddle got out of sight of land than a gale sprang up, and all her masts went by the board. To add to his difficulties, he discovered a mutinous spirit in his crew, several of whom were prisoners who had volunteered for the cruise. This was promptly checked, for the captain, as we have seen, was not a man to allow insubordination; and after rigging jury-masts he carried the ship safely into Charleston. Here she was refitted, and from here she again started on a cruise. She had been out only a few days when she captured the "True Briton," a ship of twenty guns, and three West Indiamen that formed her convoy. The captain of the "True Briton" had been looking for the "Randolph,"—at least so he said,—and as the latter approached him, he received her with a warm fire; but the "Randolph" only waited till she got within pistol-shot, when she fired a single gun, and the English captain incontinently struck his colors.

Returning once more to Charleston with her prizes, the "Randolph" remained there for some time blockaded by the enemy's squadron. At last the State of South Carolina fitted out a force of vessels to raise the blockade and cruise with the "Randolph" under Biddle's command. Contrary winds and the want of a high tide detained them for some time in Rebellion Roads, and when they got over the bar the enemy had disappeared; so they set out in quest of adventures.

The squadron had cruised for more than a month in the Atlantic with no incident worthy of note, when on the 7th of March, 1778, being then to the eastward of Barbadoes, at one o' clock in the afternoon a large ship was seen in the distance, gradually approaching. By three o'clock she had come near enough for Biddle to make out that she was a ship-of-the-line. Knowing that the stranger must be an Englishman,—she proved to be the "Yarmouth," of sixty-four guns,—and knowing too that the "Randolph," even with the support of the smaller ships, was no match for her powerful battery, he signalled to the fleet to make sail. All the ships obeyed except the "General Moultrie," which obstinately refused to leave her place, and remained hove to, giving no sign of moving. This blundering conduct of the "Moultrie's" captain left Biddle no choice but to abandon his consort or to remain and fight what seemed to be a hopeless battle. He boldly chose the latter course; and as the "Yarmouth" ranged up on his weather quarter, he hoisted the American flag and opened on her with a succession of furious broadsides, giving four to the enemy's one, and inflicting dangerous wounds upon her sails and rigging. A few minutes after the action began, Biddle received a shot in the thigh. As his people, alarmed, gathered around him, he raised himself up, telling them it was only a slight touch, and calling for a chair seated himself on the quarter-deck, where the surgeon came to dress his wound. Here he was vigorously directing the course of the battle, and in spite of the disparity between the two ships he was gradually getting the advantage, when suddenly, without a moment's warning, the magazine of the "Randolph" blew up, scattering spars, hull, guns, officers, and men in a mass of fragments over the waters.

None ever knew how the accident happened. The other ships, seeing the disaster, made off as fast as they could; but the "Yarmouth" was too much disabled to follow them, and they made good their escape. Five days after the action the English ship, still cruising about the spot, came upon a floating piece of the "Randolph's" wreck, to which four of her crew were still clinging. They had been drifting in this way for four days with no sustenance except the rain-water which they had managed to collect. These were all the survivors of that fatal battle,—a battle which lost us not only a fine frigate, but, what was far worse, one of our best and most gallant officers.

CHAPTER III.

WAR ON THE ENEMY'S COAST.

We have seen how the beginning of naval enterprise made by Washington in the summer of 1775 was taken up and borne along by the Continental Congress at Philadelphia, until little by little it had obtained a force at sea that was able to inflict serious loss upon the enemy. But a field for operations was now to be found in a new quarter; and happily for America, their direction was in the hands of its wisest and most far-sighted statesman. On the 7th of December, 1776, the United States brig-of-war "Reprisal" arrived at Nantes with Benjamin Franklin on board as a passenger, who had come over with a letter from Congress, naming him a commissioner to treat with France. The "Reprisal" was commanded by Capt. Lambert Wickes, a gallant naval officer who had been cruising during the summer before in the West Indies, where he had shown himself worthy of the people's trust. And indeed it was a heavy responsibility that rested with him on this voyage across the Atlantic; for had his ship with its passenger been captured, it is hard to say what troubles would have come upon the country, or how the Revolution would have held its own during the next five years. But Franklin was carried safely to his destination; and not only that, but two English brigs laden with cargoes of wine were captured by the "Reprisal" on the voyage and came with her into port. It was in this way that Franklin's mind was turned to the benefits which his country might reap from ocean warfare,—above all, in the seas which English commerce most frequented,—and after he arrived in Paris he lost no time in putting in practice what he had learned.

At this early period, although the King of France was indifferent, if not hostile, to the American cause, the ministers and people warmly favored it. The friendly feeling was strengthened by Franklin's coming, and his winning manners, simple and frank, but full of dignity, made him a favorite with all, both high and low. Persuaded thus by their own desires, and by Franklin's strong but gentle influence, they went just as far in their efforts to aid the Americans as they possibly could without declaring open war against England. Large sums of money were given; the departure of ships laden with arms and munitions of war was winked at; and when Lord Stormont, the English ambassador, complained of the admission of the "Reprisal" and her prizes into French ports, the Frenchmen gave evasive answers, and the vessels under one pretext or another were allowed to stay. Wickes even made a little roving cruise in the Bay of Biscay, from which he brought in as trophies three more prizes. To satisfy the English protests, he was forbidden to sell his prizes in the ports; but he took them just outside the harbor, where he held mock sales, and thus disposed of all of them. These little subterfuges were continued until the conclusion of the treaty, which came about in the following year.

In the spring after Wickes arrived, the brig "Lexington" came out, under Captain Johnston. She was the first vessel that had been purchased by the Continental Congress, and she had already done good service on the American coast. Johnston had with him as lieutenant one of the best and bravest of the Revolutionary officers, Richard Dale. Dale was at this time twenty years of age. Eight years before he had first gone to sea from his home in Virginia, and already since the beginning of the war he had been twice a prisoner; but the strangest part of his career was yet to come.

Franklin now thought it would be wise to join together the "Reprisal" and the "Lexington" and the little 10-gun cutter "Dolphin" in a squadron under the command of Wickes, who was to make a dash around the coast of Ireland and capture or destroy whatever he might find. The ships sailed from Nantes in June, and in August they came back successful from their perilous enterprise. They had captured fourteen prizes. Approaching the French coast on their return, they were discovered and chased by an English line-of-battle ship of seventy-four guns; but by separating they succeeded in making good their escape, though the "Reprisal" barely managed to get into port in time.

This expedition made so great a commotion that the French Government found itself obliged to notice it, and ordered the ships to leave the territory. Accordingly they set sail on the voyage home; but unhappily the "Reprisal," upon reaching the Banks of Newfoundland, foundered in a gale, and only one of the crew was saved. The "Lexington," soon after starting, fell in with the English cutter "Alert" in the Bay of Biscay. Both ships fought gallantly for two hours; but at length the "Lexington," which was short of ammunition, had used up nearly all her powder and shot and made sail to get away from the enemy. The "Alert" had been badly cut up aloft in the fight; but she speedily bent new sails and in a short time overtook her antagonist. Captain Johnston held out as long as there was any hope, firing now and then a gun, and using every scrap of iron he could lay his hands on for a missile; but after he had fired his last charge of powder, and several of his officers had been killed, to prevent the useless slaughter he surrendered.

The prisoners were carried off to Plymouth, where they were confined in the Mill Prison. Here the harsh treatment and sufferings they underwent soon prompted them to devise a means of escape. A hole was dug under the wall, the officers and men working upon it with their fingers whenever an opportunity offered, but making slow progress, as they could only hide the dirt from the excavation by carrying it in their pockets when they went out for exercise, and scattering it when the sentry's back was turned. Finally one night, when all was ready, they passed out through the opening and escaped into the country.

But their troubles had only just begun. The hue and cry was raised, and parties were sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Separating into twos and threes, they were barely able to elude pursuit. One night Dale was concealed under the hay in a barn, when the officers entered it in search of him. At last he reached London and took passage in a vessel bound to Dunkirk; but before she had left the Thames she was visited by a press-gang, and poor Dale was seized, and when they found out who he was, sent back to prison. The captain, though, got safely off.

This was now the fourth time that Dale had been a prisoner. To punish him for trying to escape, he was thrown into the black hole—a dungeon that was only used for the worst offenders—and treated with the utmost rigor. After a time he was put on his old footing as a prisoner of war; but he was a reckless youth, and having roused the wrath of the jailers by singing what they called "rebellious songs," he served another term in the black hole. At length by some means, which to his dying day he never would disclose, he obtained the uniform of a British officer, and in this disguise he walked through the gates in plain sight of the sentinel. Rendered more cautious by what had befallen him after his first escape, he laid his plans with care, and at last succeeded in reaching France, after a year and a half of captivity. He came in good time; for it was just as he arrived that Paul Jones was setting out on his great cruise in the "Bon Homme Richard," and Dale was made his first lieutenant. Here we shall leave him for the present.

About the time that the "Lexington" had come out from America, in the spring of 1777, the commissioners at Paris, finding that they could not get more ships in France, because the English made so great an outcry, bethought themselves that they would send a trusty agent across the channel to Dover, to see what he could get there. In this way they purchased secretly a swift English cutter, the "Surprise," and they appointed to command her Gustavus Conyngham, a bold and adventurous officer. He started on a cruise in May from Dunkirk, and in a few days returned with two of the enemy's brigs,—one of them a mail-packet which he had captured off the coast of Holland. The English ambassador again protested, and the French Government told Franklin that, though much against its will, it would be compelled to restore the prizes. It even went so far as to imprison Conyngham and his crew; but this was only a make-believe, for they were shortly afterward released.

HE TOUCHED AT A SMALL TOWN IN IRELAND FOR SUPPLIES.

Unmoved by this event, Franklin immediately procured another cutter, the "Revenge," and giving Conyngham a new commission, he sent him off from Dunkirk in charge of her. The second cruise was even more successful than the first. Conyngham roved about with his little ship as he pleased, keeping carefully away from the enemy's cruisers, which vainly sought to catch him, and capturing prizes on all sides. These he destroyed, or sometimes when he saw his chance sent into seaports on the Continent. Once during his cruise, being hard pushed for supplies, he touched at a small town in Ireland and bought them. At another time when off the English coast, finding his vessel unseaworthy and needing some repair, he took her into one of the smaller ports and refitted there, with the help of the inhabitants, without being discovered. Finally, when so many ships were sent out in pursuit of him that his cruising-ground became too hot, he made for Ferrol, in Spain, and after staying there awhile carried his ship safely to America.

The cruises of Wickes and of Conyngham, with their tiny craft, were the beginning of the great work that was to be taken up on a larger scale in the next two years by Paul Jones. The enterprise and hardihood of these bold captains, who carried the war, as it were, to the very threshold of the enemy's country, were not without results both in England and on the Continent. They showed foreign nations that the rebels in America were making war in truest earnest, and that they would leave no honorable means unused to help them in asserting independence. In England they spread alarm among the merchants, and the insurers of English ships demanded double rates; while London traders, rather than run the risk of losing their goods by shipping them in their own vessels, were induced to employ their foreign rivals to carry cargoes for them,—a thing which before this time had been almost unheard of.

CHAPTER IV.

PAUL JONES'S CRUISES.

Sometime in the summer of 1777 Paul Jones was ordered to command the sloop-of-war "Ranger," at that time nearly completed at Portsmouth. The officers were detailed for their ships by resolution of Congress; and the same resolution that gave Jones his command, on the 14th day of June, is memorable as the first adoption of the flag of thirteen stars and stripes which was carried by Jones's ship, and which ever since has been the national emblem. The young captain had hard work before him to get his ship ready for sea; but at last everything was in order, and on the 1st of November he set sail for France. He had laid down for himself a clear plan of action. He knew that England's navy was too powerful to be met on the sea, but that all along the English coast were unprotected seaports where the people were not looking for attack, and where a sharp and sudden blow would take them off their guard. He had hopes, too, that the commissioners in Paris would give him a larger ship,—perhaps two or three of them,—and he carried with him a letter from the President of Congress asking them to aid his enterprise. But in this he was disappointed. When he arrived at Nantes he found that the "Indien," a fine frigate that Franklin was having built at Amsterdam, was to be presented to the King of France, whose friendship the commissioners were anxious to obtain, that by this means they might bring about an alliance against Great Britain. So after waiting awhile he thought it well to lose no more time, and on the 10th of April he started with the "Ranger" for a cruise in the Irish Sea.

The undertaking was full of danger. There was no knowing how large a force of ships the enemy might have stationed to guard the coast, for the cruises of Wickes and Conyngham had given the alarm, and the British might have known that their own waters were no longer safe. Besides, Paul Jones was a Scotchman who had lived only two years in America, though he had given himself heart and soul to his new country's cause, and if captured, especially near Kirkcudbright or Whitehaven, where many people knew him well, he ran a good chance of being hanged as a pirate and a traitor. But Jones was a man who cared nothing about danger, and a great deal about success and the rewards which it brings. He was never deterred for a moment by the risk he was running, and if he thought about it at all, he decided that the obstinate belief of the British in their own invincibility would lead them to neglect preparations; and for the rest he only asked to be allowed to take his chances. In this he proved to be right; for although the "Ranger" had been lying for months at a French port, preparing for her expedition, the narrow seas had been left with no protection except the "Drake,"—a sloop of the "Ranger's" size,—which lay snugly at anchor in the harbor of Carrickfergus.

On the fourth day out from Brest, in St. George's Channel, the "Ranger" made her first capture of a brigantine, which was burned on the spot. Three days afterward, as Jones was nearing Dublin, he took a London ship bound for that port, which he manned and sent in to Brest. Next day he moved over toward Whitehaven, whose port, crowded with shipping, he had known so well as a boy, and attempted to approach the harbor, so that his boats might go in and destroy the vessels. The enemy had burned and destroyed property wherever they could on the American coast, and it seemed to Jones that the best way to stop them was to do the like on theirs. But the wind began to blow fiercely toward the land, and the "Ranger" turned her head seaward again, to avoid the dangers of a lee shore. In the next two days she captured a schooner and a sloop, which were sunk one after the other. This was small game for Jones; and learning from a fishing-boat just where the "Drake" was moored at Carrickfergus, he determined to run in and surprise her in the night. All was made ready. The decks were cleared for action, the lights were put out, the guns concealed, the grapnels at hand to hook on to the enemy's ship, and the boarders standing by with pikes and cutlasses to dash over the side. The "Drake" was lying with her head pointing seaward, and Jones's plan was to place himself athwart her cable and bring up on her bow. The "Ranger" came in silently but swiftly, with a captured fisherman to pilot her, and so approached the enemy. The order was given to "let go the anchor;" but either it was not quickly obeyed or the anchor hung from the jamming of the hawser, and the "Ranger" shot by in the darkness. It was of no use to try again, for a second attempt to get alongside would arouse suspicion; so Jones cut his cable and ran out, leaving his anchor in the bay behind him.

On the next night he made another trial at Whitehaven, but this too was a failure. The wind was so light that the ship could not come close in until much of the night had worn away, and the boats, with Jones and thirty of his men, only reached the outer pier at daybreak. One party, under Lieutenant Wallingford, was sent to the north basin, and another to the south, to burn the ships there; while Jones, with a handful of men, made his way into the fort, surprised the sentries, captured the little garrisons and spiked the guns, so that his retreat might be secure. When he returned to where the ships were lying, expecting to see them in a blaze, he was distressed to find that his men had let their candles burn away, and there was nothing left to kindle the fire. At last one of the men brought a light from a house near by; but by this time the people of the town had roused themselves, and began to move about the streets and to gather near the wharves. A fire started in one ship was helped on by a tar-barrel; and while his men were fanning it into a blaze, Jones stood before them on the wharf and kept the enemy away. But angry crowds were now collecting, and it was time to be off; so the captain manned his boats in haste, and embarking, pulled away to his ship, leaving the frightened inhabitants to wonder what this strange attack at their very doors could mean.

The "Ranger" now ran over to the Scotch coast, and was next seen off St. Mary's Isle, the country-seat of the Earl of Selkirk. Jones knew the spot, and he had formed the plan of landing with a boat's crew and carrying off the Earl, whom he meant to keep as a hostage in order that the prisoners taken by the English might have better treatment. But the Earl was not at home, and the men grumbled at having only their trouble for their pains. To quiet them, Jones told the party that they could go back and demand the silver plate that was in the house. The Lady Selkirk, who, looking from the window of her house, had seen the men as they came on shore, had felt no alarm, thinking that they were revenue officers, or perhaps a press-gang; but she was undeceived when they came back to the house, and she hurriedly gave them the silver tea-service, just as it was, on the breakfast-table. So they carried it away. It was a shameful thing to do, only worthy of a tramp or a marauder, and Jones was heartily sorry for it afterward; so much so, that at the sale of the prizes he bought in all the Earl's plate with his own prize-money, and sent it safely back to Lady Selkirk.

The last two exploits of the "Ranger" had alarmed the whole country-side; and as she came once more in sight of the coast of the three kingdoms, beacon-fires could be seen burning on every headland. The "Drake," too, had caught the alarm, and came out from Carrickfergus to capture the bold American. She was looking for an encounter, and Jones had no wish to disappoint her. As the enemy came out, the "Ranger" was kept stern on, which caused her to be mistaken for a merchantman, and a boat put off from the "Drake" to gain some information. The boat's crew gained more than they bargained for, for they were no sooner alongside than the "Ranger" took them on board. Then, after drawing away for a while from the land, she waited for her adversary to come up. There was no doubt now about her character, and the two ships fired their broadsides as soon as they had come within range. It was a running fight, broadside to broadside, and the two enemies were fairly matched. But the "Ranger's" men were better at the guns, and their steady fire soon began to tell, as the people who lined the shores could see to their dismay. The shots rained thick and fast upon the "Drake," sweeping her decks, wounding her sides, and cutting up her rigging. Her ties were shot away and the fore and main top-sail yards fell upon the caps. The jib hung in the water ahead and the ensign drooped astern. Presently the captain received a shot in the head, and soon afterward the first lieutenant fell, mortally wounded; finally, after an hour of hot fighting, the "Drake" surrendered. On board the "Ranger" poor Wallingford was killed, but Jones had not been touched. Securing his prisoners and his prize, on board of which he found the anchor which had been left in Carrickfergus harbor, and which the "Drake" had fished up for herself, he made sail with the two ships around the north of Ireland. There was little time to be lost, for the enemy would soon have a squadron in pursuit of him. Off he went, and made his passage safely around the Irish coast, and on the 8th of May the "Ranger" and the "Drake" arrived at Brest, just four weeks after Jones had started.

THE "DRAKE" SURRENDERS TO THE "RANGER."

With the great name that Jones had gained from his successful cruise, he now thought, and with reason, that his friends in France would bestir themselves to find for him a suitable command. He went to Paris, and received such fair promises from those in power, that he decided to send home the "Ranger" and wait abroad for the fine new ship which he expected to command. As the French had now openly concluded an alliance, they were ready to take part in any enterprise against the common enemy but they wanted to use their ships for their own officers, and the commissioners had no money to build ships on their own account. Jones went back to Brest, determined to bide his time, and meanwhile to leave no stone unturned in his efforts to secure a vessel. From Brest he wrote most pressing and incessant letters to every one in Paris who was likely to advance his scheme,—to Franklin, to M. de Sartine, the Minister of Marine, to the Prince of Nassau, and to Chaumont, a French official who had devoted much of his time and money to helping the American cause.

About this time Lafayette came over to France in a splendid new frigate, the finest ship in the American Navy, which had been named the "Alliance," to show how much the Americans valued their French friends. For the same reason the command of the "Alliance" had been given to Pierre Landais, a French merchant-captain. This was a serious mistake, as it was no great compliment to France, and Landais was as poor an officer as could have been selected. It was now proposed that a descent should be made on the English coast, with Lafayette in command of the land forces and Jones as the leader of the fleet, which was to include the "Alliance" and several other vessels. But this plan also fell through.

Jones was not in despair, for he never was that, although he had good reason to be so now; but he was beginning to be very angry. He had been told to look about in the seaports and select a vessel, and he had selected several; but his letters all seemed to be pigeon-holed when they got to Paris. One day he chanced to take up an old number of the "Poor Richard's Almanac," which Franklin had written years before, and read in it these words: "If you want a thing done, go and do it; if not, send!" Acting upon this advice he went to Paris, and in a few days after his arrival he was gratified by the announcement that one of the ships he had seen was to be fitted out for him.

The ship was the "Duc de Duras," an old Indiaman; and Jones was so grateful for the advice which had prompted him to go to Paris, that he had her rechristened the "Poor Richard," or "Bon Homme Richard," as they called it in French. She was not a first-rate ship, but she would answer the purpose, and Jones knew that beggars should not be choosers. The larger frigates of that day carried 18-pounders, but the "Richard," as we shall call her, had only 12-pounders. Jones managed, however, to get six 18's, which he mounted in the gun-room, cutting ports for them in the side. Besides his own ship he was to have four others,—the "Alliance," under Landais, and three smaller vessels, the "Pallas," "Cerf," and "Vengeance," commanded by French officers, and with crews of Frenchmen.

The crew of the "Bon Homme Richard" was made up partly of Americans, many of whom were exchanged prisoners, and she carried a considerable body of French marines. The rest of her people were taken from the foreign sailors of all nations and classes that are to be found in every seaport. Her officers were Americans. Of these the best was the first lieutenant, Richard Dale, one of the most gallant young officers that was ever borne upon the rolls of the American Navy, of whose career you have already heard something in the last chapter, and who, as I told you then, had made his final escape from prison just in time to set out in the "Richard." The commodore, as Jones was now called, would have been badly off if it had not been for Dale; for through accidents he became short of officers on the cruise, and in the great battle that ended it, Dale was almost the only one of rank upon whom he could rely.

The squadron sailed from Lorient on the 14th of August, 1779. The plan was to sail to the northward along the Irish and Scotch coasts, thence to the east, and back by way of the North Sea, keeping near the shore, and so circling around the United Kingdom. When a few days out, at dusk one evening, off the Irish coast, the crew of the "Richard's" barge, which was towing at the time, cut the tow-line and pulled off. The master, Lunt, was sent in another boat in chase, but a thick fog coming up, he was unable to rejoin the ship. Next day the "Cerf" went in toward the coast to find him, the others remaining meanwhile outside in the track of vessels. Lunt saw the "Cerf" approaching him, but as she was flying English colors, he mistook her for an enemy, and made off to the shore, where he and his boat's crew were taken prisoners. The "Cerf" seized the opportunity to leave her duty and go back to France.

After this incident the squadron, now composed of the "Bon Homme Richard," the "Alliance," the "Pallas," and the "Vengeance," pursued its way, taking prizes and destroying them or sending them in. All the French captains were insubordinate, but Landais was the worst. Sometimes he flatly refused to obey the commodore's orders, and at all times he opposed and thwarted him as far as he dared. Still, the cruise was successful, the squadron doubled Cape Wrath, and about the 15th of September arrived off the Frith of Forth.

Jones was now eager to accomplish some great achievement, for so far he had done nothing that was more noteworthy than his cruise in the "Ranger." As he came up the Frith, he decided to stand in toward Leith, the seaport of Edinburgh, and anchoring before the unprotected town, to demand a ransom of £200,000 as the price of sparing it. His plan was laid with care, and he had only to wait till night, when the "Pallas" and the "Vengeance," which were a little behind, should join him. The "Alliance" at this time was away at sea, having been separated from the squadron. When the other ships came up, their captains demurred at Jones's plan, and the whole night was lost in tedious debate and argument. Finally the Frenchmen were won over to consent; but now that morning had come, the wind was contrary, and for two days all the ships were working up the Frith. At last they had nearly reached the anchorage, when a furious gale came on and drove them all out to the North Sea, running ashore one of the prizes they had taken. The commodore at first was for making a second trial; but when he found that the alarm had been given in the town, and that batteries had been thrown up along the shore, and arms had been served out to the trade-guilds so that they might be ready to receive him, he reluctantly gave up the attempt.

It was a few days after this, on the afternoon of the 23d of September, as the four ships were working their way gradually to the southward along the English coast, that Jones's opportunity at length arrived. He had just passed Flamborough Head, a long promontory jutting out in the North Sea, when he descried a sail coming out beyond the point to the northward, then another, and another, then more, by twos and threes, until at last there were fifty of them. Fifty of the enemy's merchant-vessels in plain sight! It seemed almost too good to be true, for this was the great fleet of Baltic trading-ships, which it was the dearest wish of Jones's heart to meet. In an instant he had hoisted the signal to attack them; but presently the headmost merchant-ships, seeing the advancing enemy, put about and made off under the land, followed by the others like a flock of frightened geese. Two of the vessels alone kept on their course, and it was presently discovered that these were ships of war convoying the fleet,—the fine 18-pounder frigate "Serapis," just from the dock-yard, under Captain Pearson, and a smaller vessel, the "Countess of Scarborough." These two vessels stood gallantly out to sea to get between the convoy and Jones's squadron. Jones held on his course to meet them; but Landais, either from cowardice or treachery, disobeyed the commodore's signals, and sailing off, left him in the lurch. The "Vengeance" being too small to be of any service, and the "Pallas" engaging the "Countess of Scarborough," the "Bon Homme Richard" was left to fight the "Serapis" alone.

It was seven o'clock in the evening when the first shots were exchanged between the two frigates, and for three hours, under the bright moonlight of a clear September night, the battle raged between them with unremitting fury. At first Jones tried to get into a good position across the enemy's bow; but the "Serapis" was a much faster vessel than the "Richard," and easily evaded her. After manœuvring for a time the two vessels got foul, and Jones with his own hands made fast the jib-stay of the "Serapis" to his mizzen-mast. At the same time the English vessel's anchor hooked in his quarter, and the "Serapis" having let go her other anchor, the two ships, firmly lashed together, swung side by side to the single cable.

This position was much the best that Jones could have taken; for the "Serapis" outsailed him, and if the ships had remained apart, she would soon have knocked him to pieces with her heavy battery. As it was, her 18-pounders cleared the "Richard's" lower deck, knocking all her ports into one, and blowing out the two sides of the ship. At the beginning of the battle, two of the old 18-pounders which Jones had taken care to mount in his gun-room burst, and the crew refused to have anything more to do with them. Lieutenant Dale, who commanded the lower battery, fired his little 12-pounders as long as the men could stand to their guns, though in order to load them the rammers had to be run in through the enemy's ports, so close were the two ships. Presently word was brought to Dale that the ship was sinking, and he sent some men to man the pumps. Then the master-at-arms, overcome by panic, set loose all the prisoners,—there were more than a hundred of them,—and the men stationed in the magazine, seeing them crowding up, were afraid to send up any more powder. But Dale was below again in a twinkling, and overawing the prisoners, he set them to work in gangs at the pumps. When he returned to the gun-deck he found it almost deserted, for the sides were nearly all open, and the cannon-balls were passing through and falling into the water beyond. Then indeed it seemed as if all hope was lost and the "Bon Homme Richard" was a beaten ship, and it would be folly to hold out longer.

But all this time another fight had been going forward on the deck above, where Jones himself was in command. Pearson, seeing the havoc that had been made on the gun-deck of the "Richard," hailed the commodore to know if he surrendered; but Jones, though his ship was sinking, his gun-deck riddled, his prisoners loose, and, worst of all, a fire had broken out near the magazine, sang out in answer that he "had not yet begun to fight." And he was as good as his word. Though the purser, who had charge of the battery on the quarter-deck, had been shot in the head, and some of the guns had been disabled, Jones had others moved across the deck, and pointing them himself, poured round after round of grape-shot upon the enemy. The French marines, too, with their muskets, were stationed in the tops, and taking steady and deliberate aim killed man after man on the spar-deck of the "Serapis," until Pearson was left there almost alone. Other marines and sailors lying out on the yard-arms of the "Richard," which overhung the enemy's deck, flung hand-grenades through the open hatchways. Finally one of these struck the piles of cartridges that were lying on the lower deck of the "Serapis," and caused a series of deafening explosions, by which twenty men were killed and many more were wounded.

This last mischance was too much for Captain Pearson, and left alone and unsupported as he was on the quarter-deck, he surrendered, hauling down his flag with his own hands. Instantly Dale, who had been with Jones during the last part of the battle, caught a pendant that was hanging from the main-yard, and swung himself over to the enemy's deck. He was quickly followed by Midshipman Mayrant and a party of men who scrambled over the rail; but so little did those below know of what had happened, that a man ran Mayrant through the leg with a pike, and the English first lieutenant, rushing up on deck, asked Dale if the Americans had surrendered.

"No," said Dale, calmly; "it is you who have surrendered, and you are my prisoner."

The crew were then secured, the ships were disentangled, and the victory was won.

While the great fight was going on between the large vessels, the "Countess of Scarborough" had fallen an easy prey to the "Pallas," which was a heavier ship. The "Alliance," if Landais had done his duty, might have destroyed the enemy single-handed; but she took no part in the fight except to fire a few broadsides at the two ships as they lay together, which did more harm to the "Richard" than to her foe. Landais was led to this most treacherous conduct by his jealousy of Jones; but so far from injuring the commodore, it only benefited him, for it left to him alone all the glory of the victory.

The "Richard" was kept afloat with difficulty that night; but next day a gale sprang up, and seeing that it was impossible to save her, Jones took off all his people and their prisoners to the captured ship. Then the "Bon Homme Richard," whose career had been so short and glorious, slowly settled, until at last the waves closed over her. The other ships made sail and put into the Dutch port of the Texel, where Jones took command of the "Alliance," and soon after, carrying her through the midst of the Channel fleet, arrived safely at Brest. The miserable Landais was tried by a court-martial, and dismissed from the service in disgrace,—a punishment which he richly deserved.

In the whole war of the Revolution there was no event, excepting the battles of Saratoga and Yorktown, where Burgoyne and Cornwallis laid down their arms, that so encouraged our friends and wrought confusion to our enemies, as the victory of the "Bon Homme Richard." The battle had been fought on the English coast, and in the sight of a thousand Englishmen. The "Serapis" was a noble ship, well armed, commanded by a gallant officer, while her victorious enemy was old and rotten, an India trading-vessel never meant for war, with guns of no great service. No wonder that when Paul Jones went to Paris after the battle the people of all degrees vied with one another in doing honor to the victorious commodore. He went to Court, where he was graciously received, and the King presented him with a golden sword, and made him a chevalier of his Order of Merit,—an honor which it was said had only been conferred before that time upon those who had borne arms under the commission of France. The Continental Congress, too, was mindful of his great service, and caused a medal to be struck in commemoration of the victory.

It was Paul Jones's last exploit in the navy of his country. When the "America," the first ship-of-the-line that was built by the United States, was nearly finished, Congress passed a resolution, without one dissenting voice, giving the command to Jones. But in 1782, when the ship was ready, the war was almost over, and it was then thought best to give her to the French, to take the place of the ship "Magnifique," which had been lost in Boston Harbor. So there was nothing left for Jones to do; but if in his whole life he had accomplished nothing else but the conquest of the "Serapis," that single act would have been enough to make his country hold him forever in grateful remembrance.

Some years after the end of the Revolution the Russian Empress Catherine, who was then fighting against the Turks, sent for Paul Jones to lead her fleet against the enemy. Thus it came about that he became a Russian Admiral, and commanded the squadron in the Black Sea, where he increased his fame by winning victories over the Turkish vessels. After this service he came back to Paris, where he died in 1792, in the midst of the French Revolution.

CHAPTER V.

BARRY AND BARNEY.

During the time that Wickes and Conyngham and Paul Jones were carrying on the war with such success in the enemy's waters under the guidance of Franklin, the Continental Navy was cruising on the American coast as actively as was possible, in the neighborhood of the great English fleets. But it was a work of the utmost danger and difficulty. Several of the ports at one time or another were in the enemy's hands, and in all of them the Tories, or Loyalists, as they called themselves, were ready to give information whenever a vessel was fitted out for sea. Outside the ports, and up and down the coast, from Halifax to Florida, were innumerable cruisers of the enemy, sailing alone or in light squadrons, ever on the watch, and ready to capture the insurgent ships, which almost always were of lesser force. Of the thirteen frigates that were built by Congress in 1775, five never got to sea at all, and several of the others, like Biddle's ship, the "Randolph," were captured or destroyed before they had had time to do much service. The first one taken was the "Hancock," under Captain Manley, the same who, by his capture of the brig "Nancy," had so rejoiced the army before Boston. He was cruising toward the Banks, and had made one good prize, the armed ship "Fox," when, rashly looking into Halifax, he was chased out and captured by Sir George Collier in the "Rainbow" frigate. This was in 1777. The next year was full of disasters. First came the blowing up of the "Randolph" in March, the story of which has been already told. In April, the "Virginia," which had been built at Baltimore, was taken while aground on her first passage down the Chesapeake. In August, too, the "Raleigh" had to yield, but only after a hard-fought battle, of which we shall hear more presently. In the next year the "Warren," under Commodore Saltonstall, sailing on an expedition against the British post on the Penobscot, fell in with a large squadron of the enemy and was burned to prevent capture. The "Providence" and "Boston" were taken a year later, at the surrender of Charleston; but, like the "Warren," they had done good service and taken many prizes before they fell into the hands of the enemy. The last of all the thirteen frigates was the "Trumbull," and she held on till 1781, when she was overpowered by a squadron and struck after a desperate resistance.

One of the Philadelphia frigates which never got to sea was the "Effingham." Near the latter part of 1776 she was assigned to the command of John Barry, a Philadelphia sea-captain of Irish birth, who was much trusted and respected by the great merchants of his adopted city, and who had entered the navy at the beginning of the war. Under such difficulties did the Colonies labor in the preparation of their ships-of-war, that the "Effingham" was at this time far from being in a condition to proceed to sea, and while waiting for her during the winter, Barry saw some service with the army as a volunteer. The spring and summer passed away, and still his ship was not ready. At last, in September, Sir William Howe suddenly appeared in the Chesapeake, and after landing and fighting the battle of the Brandywine, he marched across the country to the Delaware, and took possession of Philadelphia. The "Effingham" and the other ships which had been lying there were hurried away to places of safety either up or down the river. The British threw up works to command the river, and the frigate "Delaware," attacking them, ran aground and was lost. The Continental troops in the river forts—Fort Mercer and Fort Mifflin—were vigorously assailed by the British and the Hessians; and though the invaders were repulsed with heavy loss, the forts were finally evacuated. The ships below the town—among them Biddle's famous little brig the "Andrew Doria"—were then destroyed, and the passage was opened to the enemy from Philadelphia to the sea.

The "Effingham" and "Washington"—the two unfinished frigates—had been carried up the stream, where they remained, as it would seem, secure from all attack. Barry grew impatient in his enforced idleness, and conceived a plan to use the frigates' boats for a cutting-out expedition down the river, where the enemy's freight-ships and transports, loaded with supplies and stores, were constantly passing and repassing on their way to and from the sea. Selecting thirty men on whom he could rely, he rowed down the stream, and evading all the lookouts, made his way successfully past the town. Pausing now cautiously to reconnoitre, he presently discovered four store-ships which had anchored in the river before discharging their cargo. Stealthily he crept up to the nearest of them, boarded her with his men, overcame the watch, and in a few seconds had taken possession of her. The same course was pursued with the other three. Barry was strongly tempted to try to carry off his prizes; but by this time the alarm had been given and signals were displayed, and before long the enemy's patrol boats would approach. There was nothing left but to destroy the vessels; and Barry, taking only time enough to see that the work had been well done, made for the opposite shore, and after landing his men safely, returned without loss to the frigate.

The boldness with which Barry had performed this dashing exploit won for him a reputation with both friends and foes. The story goes that Howe, struck by the captain's daring, made overtures to him to join the British service, and even went so far as to promise him a reward of £15,000 if he would betray his trust. "Not the value or command of the whole British Navy," was Barry's prompt answer, "would seduce me from the cause of my country!"

The French alliance, and the change it wrought upon the face of the war, led the British to determine upon the evacuation of Philadelphia, which came about accordingly in the following summer. But before going away they struck one blow from which the Continental Navy could not easily recover. Major Maitland, with a force of gunboats and barges, accompanied by a detachment of infantry and artillery, made a raid up the river and sought out all the vessels which had been lying snugly concealed there during the winter. They had no batteries, and were in no way capable of offering resistance; and all, including the "Effingham" and "Washington," were burned. A month later the British abandoned Philadelphia.

Barry was now appointed to the "Raleigh," one of the best of the thirteen frigates, which had already been at sea under another captain. At this time she was lying at Boston, and on the 25th of September, 1778, Barry weighed anchor and sailed down the harbor, bound on a cruise to the eastward. She had been only six hours out of port, when two large ships were seen approaching her from a distance. These proved to be a British frigate, the "Experiment," of fifty guns, and the sloop "Unicorn." The "Experiment" alone was nearly double the "Raleigh's" size, and Barry used his best endeavors to escape from them. But they had seen him, and crowded sail in chase. Night fell, and concealed both pursuers and pursued. The next day was hazy; but at noon the fog lifted and showed the enemy still far away, but doing all he could to lessen the distance. So the chase continued for the rest of the day and the whole of the night, and the next day too, the enemy occasionally lost to view, and so raising the hopes of Barry and his crew, but each time reappearing, and still in hot pursuit. On the morning of the third day the wind freshened, and the "Raleigh," which now was off the coast of Maine, gradually increased her speed and seemed about to cast off her pursuers; but in the afternoon the breeze again fell light, giving them once more the advantage, until at five o'clock the larger ship, the "Experiment," had barely managed to come up, and opened fire.

The chances of escape now seemed slight indeed; but Barry was not a man to let himself be taken without a struggle, even by an enemy that was twice his size, and boldly joining battle, he began a contest which was to last for seven long hours, and in which the steadfast courage and unyielding purpose of the commander would have done credit to Paul Jones himself. At the second fire of the enemy the "Raleigh's" fore-topmast toppled over and fell. Nevertheless, she kept up a furious cannonade at close quarters, pouring in broadside after broadside at her big antagonist. The latter now found herself badly injured, and moved to a point some distance off, keeping up her fire at long range. Never allowing himself to be discouraged for a moment, although he had little reason to hope, Barry took advantage of this breathing-space to repair his damages. Then he followed the enemy and attempted to close with her and carry her by boarding. It was a desperate measure, but it seemed to be the only chance; for the "Unicorn" had now come up, and Barry found himself between two fires. The "Experiment," however, discovered his purpose and avoided him successfully. It had now grown very dark, and as a last resort Barry sought to get away and elude his opponents among the islands which at this point are thickly dotted along the shores of Maine; but they hung to him closely, and as a crowning misfortune his vessel ran aground. The struggle was now hopeless, and it would have been madness to hold out any longer. Abandoning his ship, Barry made for the land. This, with great difficulty, he at length reached, and so succeeded in escaping with some part of his crew; but the frigate which he had so gallantly defended fell into the hands of the enemy.

Thus ended the cruise of the "Raleigh,"—a cruise which had lasted only three days, but of which every moment had been filled with intense excitement, alternating between faint hope and blank despair, ending in failure, but which gave to her captain a name and fame that lasted long after the close of the Revolution. No man of his day in the navy was more honored by his equals and more beloved and reverenced by those below him in rank. His sailors adored him; there was nothing they were not ready to do for him. He was always frank and generous to his friends and humane to his enemies. On board his ship he exacted full obedience, and he got it, both from officers and men, but always by gentle means. With a fine and noble presence, and a face that bespoke a true heart and ready hand guided by a strong purpose and a lofty courage, there was none in all the navy more regarded and esteemed than John Barry.

After the cruise of the "Raleigh," Barry served for a time in privateers. Like Paul Jones, he should have had a good ship, but there was none to give him. Finally in 1780, after Landais came back disgraced from Europe, Barry was ordered to take command of the "Alliance," and in the following winter he sailed for France, taking with him as a passenger Henry Laurens, who went out as the new Minister to France. In May, 1781, he left Lorient on his return; and on the 28th, being then near the Banks of Newfoundland, in the evening he discovered in his neighborhood two sail of the enemy,—the ship "Atalanta," of twenty guns, and the brig "Trepassey," of fourteen. Barry waited for daylight to attack them; but the next morning the wind fell, and not a ripple broke the shining surface of the water; while the "Alliance," with her tall and graceful spars, and her sails hanging loose in the dead calm, slowly rose and fell with the broad swell of the Atlantic. There she lay like a huge log, unable to move a yard this way or that. Her very size was a misfortune now, for her two antagonists, smaller and more handy, could manœuvre as they pleased, with their long sweeps; and moving up they took positions on her quarter, and opened on her with their guns. The "Alliance" could not reply with a single cannon, her heavy battery was useless, and the "Atalanta" and her consort kept up a steady fire for the whole morning and well into the afternoon. It was a galling thing for Barry to be placed thus at the mercy of a lesser force, to see his men shot down around him, and to be powerless himself to fire a shot in their defence.

At two o'clock Barry, who had all this time been waiting with impatience on the quarter-deck for the unwilling breeze, received a wound in the shoulder from a grape-shot. Stung as he was by the sharp pain, he refused to leave the deck; but at length, fainting from loss of blood, he was carried below to the cockpit, where the surgeon set about dressing his wound. Presently the first lieutenant came down to report the condition of the ship, upon whose deck many of the crew were lying killed or wounded, and ending his report, asked if he should strike the flag. Barry indignantly refused. "If the ship," said he, "cannot be fought without me, they shall carry me again on deck."

This answer revived the drooping spirits of the crew and gave fresh vigor to their efforts. Soon after this a little wind sprang up. It barely gave the frigate way to bring her guns to bear upon the enemy; but it was enough, and only a few broadsides from her 18-pounders were needed to settle the result. The captain of the "Trepassey" fell, and his ship immediately surrendered. His comrade Edwards, who commanded the "Atalanta," refused at first to yield, but a few more broadsides cut his vessel well-nigh to pieces, and at three o'clock his flag too was hauled down. As the brave Edwards came on board the "Alliance" to give up his sword, Barry, forgetting his wound and the anxious hours that his opponent had made him pass, generously gave it back to him, saying as he did so, "Keep it, my friend. You richly deserve it; and your king ought to give you a better ship."

The "Alliance" during the next year was still cruising under Barry's command. But the war, though in name it still continued, was almost at an end. It was now certain that the king would do the thing he most abhorred, which was to recognize the independence of America,—and hostilities on land had really ceased. The seas still swarmed with British cruisers, but none of them were able to capture the "Alliance," and she was brought safely home. After the treaty was concluded, the Government, no longer needing her, sold her to Philadelphia merchants, and she became a peaceful trading-vessel.

There was one officer among the younger men of the navy who resembled Barry no less in bravery and seamanlike skill than in the winning frankness and generosity of his nature. This was Joshua Barney. Three years before the war broke out he had gone to sea on his first voyage, and had risen in two years to be the second mate of his vessel. Early in 1775, not dreaming of the hostilities that were shortly to occur; he had set out from Baltimore on a voyage to the Mediterranean. The captain died at sea, the chief mate had been left behind, and Barney found himself, when only sixteen years of age, in the command of a leaky ship, with a long voyage before him, and all the responsibility resting on his shoulders. It was a hard trial for him; but he had gained the good-will of his crew, and to a man they obeyed and supported him. Just before sighting the coast of Spain he fell in with a gale of wind; and he only managed to get into Gibraltar as his ship was on the point of going down. Here he obtained assistance and repairs by giving bonds,—for he had no money,—and he was thus enabled to deliver his cargo at Nice, which was the port of destination. The firm to which the cargo was consigned refused to pay the bonds, although there could be no doubt that it was their duty. "Well, then," said Barney, "you shall not have your cargo."

The merchants were astounded at the attempt of this boy of sixteen to make resistance, and upon their presenting a complaint to the governor, the latter threw Barney into prison. Making his escape by a stratagem, young Barney went at once to Milan and laid his case before the British minister, with such effect that in three days he had returned to Nice, the governor had apologized, his bond had been paid, and his ship discharged.

After a short stay Barney set out on his voyage home. As he was coming up the Chesapeake, he learned for the first time, from an English sloop-of-war that boarded him, of the stirring events that had occurred,—that battles had been fought at Lexington and Bunker Hill, and that Washington was besieging Boston, and the war for independence was begun. As soon as he landed, he made the offer of his services to the Government.

At first Barney served as a volunteer in small vessels; but he soon became a lieutenant, and he was ordered late in the summer of 1776 to the "Andrew Doria," now under the command of Captain Robinson. In this ship he made a cruise to the West Indies. While here, the "Doria" put in at the Dutch island of St. Eustatius to get some ammunition that was stored there for the Continental Congress, and upon arrival she fired a salute to the governor's flag. The governor, without much thought perhaps, returned the salute. This was the first time that the flag of the new American State had been recognized by any foreign power, and the Americans were much rejoiced that it should come about. But the British, who still felt that the Colonies were a part of Britain, and who knew that Holland was bound so to regard them, were incensed at the governor's act, and demanded his recall. The Dutchmen, who did not dare refuse, ordered him home; and the poor governor lost his post in consequence of his unthinking courtesy.

Soon after this the "Doria," now on her way home, met an enemy's sloop-of-war, the "Racehorse," which had been sent by Admiral Parker to lie in wait for her off Porto Rico. But the admiral did not count upon the bravery of the Americans, or he would have sent a larger ship; for the "Racehorse," after a hot engagement for two hours, was herself forced to surrender.

A few days later the "Doria" captured an English snow,—an armed merchant-vessel of peculiar rig,—and Barney was detached to take her home. As had happened before with the "Doria's" prizes when Biddle was in command, the brig's crew was too small to man them, and Barney made up the needed number from the prisoners. On the way north he had heavy weather, for it was now December,—a month in which no seaman likes to pass Cape Hatteras,—and day after day the vessel encountered a succession of furious gales and heavy seas. Keeping well out to the eastward until he had fetched a point from which he could reach the Chesapeake, Barney now headed for the land, and at last found himself, on Christmas night, in a driving easterly storm, close on the breakers of the Jersey coast. To keep his vessel away from the lee shore and its certain perils, the young prize-master, as his only course, resolved to ride out the gale and let go his only anchor. So the night fell upon him and his men,—a fearful night, what with the roaring tempest, and the sea rolling mountains high, while every wave broke over the bows of the ship. It seemed each instant, from the violence of the sea, that the small cable must part, and with it she would lose her only hope. The men, yielding themselves to blank despair, were sinking into lethargy. It was then that Barney, though he had little cause to hope himself, talked to them with cheering words, trying to rouse them from their stupor. He called to mind the battles they had fought, and how they had been ready to stand up bravely before the enemy and face death in another form.

"I am not much of a chaplain, my good lads," he said, "but this I know, that the same Power that protected you then can protect you now; and if we are all to go to Davy Jones's locker, we might as well go with a bold face as a sheepish one."

Barney's good example shamed the men to greater courage; but the night wore on and the day broke, and still the fury of the storm kept up. The crew were in the tops, and Barney with them. Soon a cry was heard of "Sail ho!" and every eye was turned toward a small sloop, which appeared in sight driven before the gale, yet trying to make an offing. Anxiously the men watched the frail boat, one moment rising on the wave till they could see her keel, and the next plunging down till she was lost to view. Each time it seemed as if she could not rise again; but each time she shot up on the foaming crest, seemingly steadying herself an instant before the next downward plunge. Suddenly there was heard a long, shrill shriek of terror piercing through the din and crash of breakers, and the sloop was swallowed up in the seething waters.

After this sight no words of Barney's could rouse his men from their terrors. But fortunately toward the middle of the afternoon the wind abated and the sea gradually went down. Barney lost no time in getting his crew down from aloft as soon as it was safe, and they were only too glad to come.

"Up with the anchor! Man the capstan! Cheerily, my lads!" rang out from Barney; and the men went to their duties with a will, and getting underway, headed for the harbor of Chincoteague, near by, where they found a temporary shelter.

After resting here for a few days Barney started for the Chesapeake. On the second day out he was discovered by the "Perseus," one of the enemy's blockading vessels, which immediately started in pursuit. Barney would have got off, as he had the faster ship; but the prisoners in his crew, who had been planning mutiny, and were only waiting till they sighted an English ship-of-war, refused to go to their stations. Barney singled out the ringleader and ordered him to his duty, and as the man did not stir he shot him then and there, though without giving him a mortal wound. This put an end to the mutiny; but through the delay the "Perseus" had been enabled to overtake the prize-vessel, and so she was recaptured. The wounded mutineer told his story to Captain Elphinstone, the commander of the "Perseus," thinking that he would at once have Barney put in irons; but the captain set his complaint at nought, and said that if he had been in Barney's place he would have done the same.

"THE SLOOP WAS SWALLOWED UP IN THE SEETHING WATERS."

Barney remained a month on board the "Perseus." Her captain, Elphinstone, who afterward became the famous Admiral Lord Keith, was a generous enemy, and treated his prisoners as became an honorable and gallant officer. Upon one occasion the purser, a hot-tempered Scotchman, struck Barney in the face, on the quarter-deck, whereupon the young lieutenant knocked him down. The captain, when he heard of it, sent word to them both to come to his cabin, and without asking any questions he commanded the purser to make apology on his knees to the unarmed prisoner whom he had affronted. So Barney fared well in the "Perseus;" but he was not sorry, soon afterward, at Charleston, to leave her on parole and go to Philadelphia, to which place his old ship the "Andrew Doria" had meanwhile come without mishap.

For some months Barney could not join his ship, being bound by his parole, but at last an accident relieved him of it. It happened that Lieutenant Moriarty, of the English frigate "Solebay," with a boat's-crew, had incautiously gone ashore for water somewhere in the Chesapeake, and had been seized and taken prisoner by a party of Virginians. Captain Elphinstone now made an agreement with Gov. Patrick Henry, of Virginia, to exchange the two lieutenants; and so Barney was released from his parole in time to bear his part in the actions in the Delaware River during the weeks that followed Sir William Howe's occupation of the city. How the "Doria" and the other vessels were destroyed after the surrender of the forts has been already told; and Barney, being now without a ship, was ordered to march with a detachment of his men to Baltimore, and there to join the new frigate "Virginia."

It was just at New Year's, in 1778, that Barney arrived in Baltimore; and as the frigate of which he was to be the first lieutenant was not yet ready for sea, he took command of a pilot-boat to cruise about the bay and watch the movements of the enemy, who had then several ships in the Chesapeake. One night, as he was returning from a reconnoissance, he found a merchant-sloop from Baltimore on her way down the bay, and hailed her, telling her what dangers she would meet below. To his no small surprise he was answered by a volley of musketry. He tacked in order that he might the better return this unlooked-for fire, and presently discovered on the off side of the sloop a ship's barge lashed alongside. It was now clear why his seeming friend had fired on him. The enemy had cut out the sloop, and they were using her as a decoy to capture Barney. But he served them the same turn that he had served the "Racehorse;" for after a short and sharp struggle he captured them and took them to the city. The barge belonged to His Majesty's ship "Otter;" and Barney, mindful of the treatment he had received on board the "Perseus," took the best of care of his prisoners,—above all of Gray, the officer in charge, who had been wounded, and sent a flag-of-truce boat to the "Otter," to bring them what they needed.

On the last day of March the "Virginia" left Baltimore, and attempted under cover of the night to pass the British lookouts in the bay, and so get out to sea. No doubt she would have done it safely had not the pilot, losing his way, run her ashore on the Middle Ground, a large shoal in the lower Chesapeake. The morning broke, and found her hard and fast aground, with three of the enemy's frigates close at hand. Nicholson, the captain of the "Virginia," now called away his barge and left the ship, making his escape to land. It is a story that one must grieve to tell of an American officer; but it can only be supposed that, having but just entered the navy, he did not know what honor and duty meant. There was nothing left now but surrender, for the rest could not escape.

Barney was now a prisoner on board the "Emerald" frigate. It is clear that even in a bitter war not only one good turn deserves another, but secures another; for the kind treatment which Barney had received from Captain Elphinstone resulted in his kindness to the "Otter's" men, and this again, which was well known throughout the British squadron, gained for him equal favors in his new captivity. But this did not last long; for after a little while he was sent to New York, where for the first time he came to know the horrors of a prison-ship.

Late in August Barney was exchanged, and found himself again in Baltimore; but there was little now for him to do. After all the disasters of this disastrous year of 1778, only four frigates were left on the American coast, and the smaller vessels had mostly been destroyed or captured. While he was in this plight a merchant offered him the command of a privateer schooner, carrying two guns and a crew of eight men; and Barney, being so reduced for want of naval occupation, consented to take her to St. Eustatius with a cargo of tobacco. He must have been truly at his wit's end to have undertaken such a voyage in such a craft; for even if he could have carried out the undertaking, he would have gained neither glory nor profit from it. But he was not destined to carry it out; for even before he reached the capes he met a larger privateer, carrying four guns and sixty men, which speedily disposed of him after a running fight of a few minutes. The enemy, not caring to be troubled with prisoners, put him and his little crew ashore; and his voyage being thus curtailed, he found himself a few days later again in Baltimore. Here he remained for several weeks.

Strange as it must seem, Barney was now only nineteen years old, yet there had been crowded into his short boy-life more adventures and perilous enterprises than most men of three times his years have gone through. Since the war began, he had been thrice made a prisoner, but each time he had been fortunate in having humane captors. But the worst was yet in store for him. After a successful privateering voyage to Bordeaux, he sailed in 1780 in the "Saratoga," under Captain Young. Early in October she captured four prizes, one of which was given to Barney to command. He left the "Saratoga," and it was fortunate he did, for she was never seen or heard of afterward; but the prize which he commanded was herself captured only one day later by a British squadron. Barney was taken to New York, and soon after sent to England in the "Yarmouth." On board this ship the prisoners were confined in the hold, in a space three feet high, and without light or air; and the horrors of the voyage, which lasted seven weeks, remind one of the fearful stories of the Middle Passage in the old slave-trading days. It was by comparison a happiness to be transferred even to the Mill Prison, after those wretched hours on board the "Yarmouth;" and the prisoners when they came ashore, weak from suffering and disease and want of food, were a most piteous spectacle.

How Barney, after three month's confinement, made his escape from prison; how he lived six weeks unrecognized in London, though all the time a price was set upon his head; how he sailed for Ostend in a mail-packet, and after various wanderings upon the Continent at last returned to America,—we have not time to tell. The spring of 1782 found him once more in Philadelphia, still ready for any service for which his country might call.

Although the war on land had at this time pretty nearly come to an end, the Delaware River and the bay below were still infested by Tory privateers and stray cruisers from the British fleets on the lookout for prizes. To clear its waters of these marauders, the State of Pennsylvania bought a merchant-vessel named the "Hyder Ali," which had already started on her voyage with a cargo. She was brought back, her merchandise removed, a battery of sixteen guns was mounted, and she was fitted for a cruise under the command of Barney.

On the 8th of April she left Philadelphia with a large merchant fleet in company, which had been waiting patiently until the new cruiser should be ready to convoy them past the capes of the Delaware. All went smoothly on the way down the bay; but at Cape May, as the wind was southerly, the fleet anchored, waiting for a favorable breeze. They were in this position when suddenly a force of the enemy, composed of a frigate and a sloop-of-war, was seen rounding the cape on its way to attack them. Barney ordered the convoy to retire up the bay out of harm's reach, and the vessels tripped their anchors and made sail before the southerly wind, the "Hyder Ali" staying behind to cover their retreat.

Now it happened that there was—and still is, for that matter—in the lower part of the bay, a widely-spreading shoal called the Overfalls, which divided the water into two channels. The convoy on its way up took the eastern channel, and thither it was followed by the "Hyder Ali." The frigate went up on the western side, hoping by this means to overtake and cut off some of the merchantmen without hindrance at the upper end of the shoal. But the sloop, her captain being more ambitious or more reckless, followed in the wake of the convoy; and thus it came to pass that in a short time she had caught up with the "Hyder Ali," which, seeing that the enemy's force was divided, was taking no great pains to get away from her. The sloop was the "General Monk," which under the name of the "Washington" had once been an American privateer, but had been captured by the enemy.

Although the "Monk" alone was considerably heavier in force, as she carried twenty 9-pounders to his sixteen 6's, Barney waited for her to join battle. His object was to get her so to place herself that he would be able to rake her; that is, by lying across her bow or stern, to make his broadside sweep her decks from one end to the other. This he accomplished by a stratagem. As the "Monk" approached his quarter, he sang out to his helmsman to "port the helm," so loud, that the enemy could hear him. If the quartermaster had obeyed his order, it would have given the "Monk" an advantage by enabling her to rake his stern; but Barney had arranged beforehand that the helmsman should do just the opposite of what he said. The result was that the "Hyder Ali" was thrown squarely across the bow of the sloop, so that a moment later her jib-boom was entangled in the American's rigging, where she was held fast, and Barney had her at his mercy. He poured his broadside the whole length of her decks, and she could barely answer now and then with a single gun. After half an hour's contest she surrendered.

HEAVING THE LEAD ON BOARD THE FRIGATE.

Meantime the frigate, seeing what was going on, endeavored to help her consort; but the shoal lay between, and it took her a long time to round its lower end. Barney, knowing that he could not sustain a fight with her, decided to make off, and did not stand upon the order of his going. Hastily throwing a prize crew on board the "Monk," he held his course up the river; while the frigate, which had turned back, was seen in the distance doubling the southern end of the shoal. But she was too late, and the "Hyder Ali" arrived with her convoy at Philadelphia, bringing with her as a trophy the sloop which had been captured with so much skill and gallantry.

The engagement between the "Hyder Ali" and the "General Monk" was the last of any importance during the war. Indeed, since the beginning of the French alliance in 1778, hostilities on the American coast had been chiefly carried on by the great English and French fleets of line-of-battle ships, which cast into the shade the small operations of the Continental Navy. In this very month Sir George Rodney won his great victory over the Count de Grasse in the West Indies,—a battle between two opposing fleets larger than had ever before been brought into action. Early in the next year the Treaty of Paris was concluded, which recognized the independence of the United States; and the navy and the army were disbanded, the ships that remained were sold, and the officers and men returned again to private life.

CHAPTER VI.

HOSTILITIES WITH FRANCE.

Just at the close of the Revolution the country found itself independent, but laboring under a heavy burden of debt, and with a government that had hardly enough authority to be called a government at all. In fact, at this period the nation was little more than a collection of separate States, with a kind of league or confederation to hold them together. Each of these States had its own government, which paid little attention to the wants of the others. After a few years, however, it became clear that the jealousies and rivalries of the States would break up the league unless they were held together by some stronger bond; and as they could attain strength and greatness only by union, they wisely laid aside all their little differences, and acting through their delegates at Philadelphia, formed that wonderful plan of a united nation called the Constitution, which went into force in 1789, and under which we still live; for so skilfully was it framed, that it has stood every shock and trial, and the time will soon arrive to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of its adoption.

It is clear that a country under such conditions could not possibly keep up a navy; and so it was that after the Revolutionary War the whole establishment gradually passed out of existence. Even when the Constitution was adopted, and Washington became the first President of the United States, there were other matters that required attention first, and the new Government rightly gave its thoughts to these. Besides, it was so short a time since the people of the Colonies had suffered from the oppressions of the Royal Army and Navy, that they had a dread and almost a hatred of any kind of standing military force. Therefore, though one of the officers of the new Government was a secretary of war, he had not much of an army to look after, and no navy at all. But soon the Government found it necessary to make a change in its naval policy, and the change came about in a very unexpected way.

There were at this time four small States on the southern shores of the Mediterranean Sea called the Barbary Powers, which had for many years derived much profit from the detestable practice of sending out piratical ships to plunder the merchant-vessels of all nations. The European States from time to time made an attempt to put the pirates down, and sometimes a great nation had even paid them money on condition that they should not molest its commerce. There is some ground for thinking that England, of whom the Barbary Powers were most afraid, rather encouraged their depredations than sought to check them, because it was for her advantage, as a trading State, that foreign merchant-fleets should suffer, in order that the field might be left clear to her. However this may be, the English had never put forth their naval strength against the corsairs; yet English merchantmen were mostly spared by them. Before the Revolution the vessels of the Colonies, bearing as they did the English flag, had all the privileges of other English ships; but when the war was over, and the merchantmen of the young American State began to reappear in the Mediterranean with a new and hitherto unknown American flag, the Barbary cruisers pounced upon them as their lawful prey.

The first piratical capture was made in 1785, and was a Boston ship, the schooner "Maria." Soon afterward the "Dolphin," of Philadelphia, was seized. These were carried into Algiers, where the ships and their cargoes were confiscated by the Dey, and the crews were held in slavery. It seems strange that there should not have been enough of public spirit in the country to fit out ships at once and send them over to set free the Americans who were enslaved by these Turkish outlaws, or at least to protect from their barbarities other Americans navigating the seas. But no such measures were taken, and the prisoners were left to languish in captivity until their buccaneering captors received a heavy ransom. Agents were indeed sent out, who did much chaffering with the Algerines, mostly through foreign officials; but for a long time this brought about no result, and several of the captives meanwhile died.

During the next few years the Portuguese were at war with Algiers, and her ships were in consequence unable to venture far from port; but in 1793 a peace was concluded, and thereupon an Algerine squadron, suddenly appearing outside the Strait of Gibraltar, fell upon and captured ten unsuspecting American merchantmen. This was too much for any State to bear, however long-suffering or impoverished it might be; and Congress resolved at once to begin the building of a new fleet. Accordingly plans were made for the construction of six frigates of a much larger size than any which the navy had possessed during the Revolution. In fact, some of them were of about the largest size that were then afloat, and led our enemies in later wars to declare that we had misled them by building ships-of-the-line under the name of frigates; which, even if it had been true, would not have been a reproach to us, as it was their business to find out what our ships were like. It was a most wise measure to build these large frigates, as the country afterward realized; and great credit is due to Joshua Humphreys, a Pennsylvania ship-builder, upon whose suggestion the plan was adopted.

Even this small provision was made only after much debate and opposition, because there were many men who thought that a navy would make the central Government too powerful, and would be used to destroy the liberties of the people: and although the building of the ships was begun, negotiations with Algiers were continued, and large sums of money were expended in presents,—or, to speak plain English, in bribes,—to influence the Dey to make a treaty. These were so far successful that in the next year the treaty was concluded, and all the prisoners were ransomed. Such violent objections were now made to keeping up the naval force, that it was decided to finish only two out of the six frigates, and the work on the others was stopped. One member of Congress even went so far as to say that he hoped "the ships would rot upon the stocks as an instructive monument of national folly." Yet it was certainly much greater folly to spend a million dollars—which was what the treaty cost—in presents and bribes to Turkish officers, and in the ransom of American citizens, rather than in building ships and fitting out a navy to punish the marauders, and to deter them from a repetition of their outrages. For, as we shall hereafter see, the money that was paid was not enough to satisfy the Barbary Powers, who, however much they got, were always wanting more; while the navy, so far from overturning liberty, has ever since been one of its greatest bulwarks, by the glory and honor which, through all its history, it has brought upon the Republic.

In 1793, some time before the Algerine trouble was settled, a war had broken out between France and Great Britain. It was only ten years after the close of the Revolution, in which the French had been our trusted friends and the British our bitter enemies; and the French, like ourselves, and partly influenced by our example, had cast off their monarchy and had established a republic. There seemed at first sight to be every reason why we should side with them against the old enemy, and in the beginning most of our people were ready to give them the warmest sympathy and support. But the French Revolution, with its Reign of Terror, soon took such a turn that men shrank with horror from its blood-stained course; and meantime France, presuming too far upon the services which she had rendered in our own struggle for independence, demanded of us favors in return which we could not give without going again to war with Britain. It was Washington's desire then, and it has been our wise policy ever since, that we should avoid entangling ourselves in European broils, so that we found it necessary to give France a refusal, though it was very hard to do it. Thereupon the French, knowing our weakness, especially at sea, took advantage of it to inflict upon us every kind of injury and insult. They used our ports to fit out privateers, and captured vessels of the enemy in our own waters, which, as we were neutral in the war, they ought to have held sacred; they seized our merchantmen upon frivolous pretexts, to the great damage of our commerce; and when we made respectful protests and complaints about it, our ministers were treated with such indignity as the world has rarely seen in the dealings of Christian States.

The British too were guilty of aggressions on their side, but not at this time to the same extent. So the people of America were divided,—some siding with the French, partly for old friendship's sake, and some with the British, because from them had come the lesser evil. Between these two factions party spirit raged with bitterness and rancor; so that it sometimes almost seemed as if men thought themselves the citizens of one or the other of the opposing States, and forgot that they were all Americans. Finally, matters came to such a pass that something must be done to protect our commerce, and as a war with both States at once seemed to be too great an undertaking, and France was at this time the worse offender, the new President, John Adams, whose party leanings were all upon that side, urged that a navy should be fitted out to make reprisals upon the French cruisers and privateers.

"EVERYWHERE THE SHIP-YARDS WERE BUSY."

In this way the summer of 1798 came to be a time of preparation for war. The larger frigates were completed, and several small ones were begun. The merchants in the different cities raised large sums of money to build ships by subscription, to be repaid later by the Government, and everywhere the ship-yards were busy getting ready the new fleet. Congress declared that the treaties with France were at an end, and authorized the President to instruct our ships-of-war to seize all French armed vessels that might be found at sea. Officers were selected, crews were recruited, and the Marine Corps, which has always since that day done most efficient service, was first created. A new Department of the Navy was established as one of the great divisions of the Government; which showed that all this preparation was not the mere whim and fancy of the moment, but that the country was at last resolved to have a naval force which should continue for all time.

The new Secretary of the Navy, Benjamin Stoddert, proposed that a small force should remain to defend the coast, and that all the other ships should go to the West Indies, which swarmed with French cruisers and privateers, and attack the enemy on his own cruising-ground. Thither they all went in the summer or fall of the year, until we had assembled there what was for us a powerful force, composed of four squadrons, and numbering all together more than twenty vessels. The largest of the squadrons, with the new frigate "United States," of forty-four guns, as flagship, was placed under the command of John Barry, the story of whose Revolutionary fights was told in the last chapter, and who had been chosen by Washington to be the first captain of the new navy to hold the President's commission. Besides some smaller vessels, Barry had with him another frigate, the "Constitution," a forty-four like the "United States," which was destined to become our most famous ship, by winning in the War of 1812 a succession of splendid victories. The second squadron, with the 38-gun frigate "Constellation" as flagship, was given to Captain Truxtun, who had also seen much service in the Revolution while in command of privateers. The third and fourth were lighter squadrons. By means of these four detached groups of vessels the ports and harbors of the West India Islands were closely watched, every nook and corner was visited, and in the passages between the larger islands, which form the great highways of commerce, our merchant-ships had convoy and protection. It was a different kind of service from that of the earlier war; for our ships now were equal to any frigates in the world, and the enemy's great fleets of line-of-battle ships were fully occupied by the war in Europe; while our older officers were veterans who had passed with credit through their first trial, and the younger could have no better masters from whom to learn their early lessons.

The first prize of the war was the French privateer "Croyable." The sloop-of-war "Delaware," under Capt. Stephen Decatur,—not the one who afterward became so famous, who was then only a midshipman in Barry's flagship, but his father,—went to sea in June, 1798, and had been out but a few days when she captured the "Croyable," which had been seizing several of our vessels on our own coast. She was taken into the navy and named the "Retaliation," and the command of her was given to Lieut. William Bainbridge. Bainbridge was a young man who had only been a merchant captain, but he was a daring fellow,—almost too daring for prudence, as the result showed; for soon after he had reached the West Indies with his new command he one day unguardedly approached two French frigates, the "Insurgente" and the "Volontier," supposing for no good reason that they were English, and his little ship was quickly captured.

The "Insurgente" was the smartest ship on the West Indian station, and indeed one of the finest and fastest frigates in the French navy, and the Government expected great things of Captain Barreault, who was in command of her. But the captain was destined to disappoint them. Early in February of the next year, as the "Constellation" was cruising to the eastward of the island of Nevis, she discovered a large ship to the southward, and immediately bore down for her. In the old war, when our officers sighted a large ship, the best thing they could do was to take to their heels, for the enemy was sure to overmatch them. But the "Constellation" was a frigate of a different sort from those which we had sent to sea in the Revolution; and Truxtun, though he believed the stranger was an enemy, boldly advanced to meet her. She proved to be the "Insurgente," and soon she hoisted the French flag and fired a challenge gun to windward.

Though the "Insurgente" hailed him several times, Truxtun made no reply, but continued to bear down upon her until he was sure that every shot would tell; then he delivered his whole broadside, and the "Insurgente" answered him. The fight continued for an hour, the "Constellation" always gaining the advantage; for Truxtun was a better seaman than Barreault, and again and again he placed himself where he could rake the enemy, while she could not reply, her broadside being turned away. The Americans, too, were better gunners, for they killed and wounded the "Insurgente's" men, while the Frenchmen, pointing their guns too high, only damaged the "Constellation's" spars and rigging. At last, after seventy of the "Insurgente's" crew had fallen, and Truxtun had taken a position squarely athwart her stern, so that the next broadside would sweep her decks, she struck her flag and so surrendered.

The "Constellation" had only two men killed in the battle, and one of these was shot by his own lieutenant, Sterrett, because he saw him flinching at his gun. One of the midshipmen, a gallant fellow named David Porter, of whom we shall hear again later, at this time only eighteen years of age, was stationed in the "Constellation's" fore-top during the engagement. A cannon-ball struck the topmast above him, and it was in danger of falling under the weight of yards and sails. The midshipman hailed the deck, and reported to the officers what had happened; but they were too busy to send men up to repair the damage. So Porter, without waiting longer, climbed the mast himself amid a shower of bullets, and cut away the stoppers, which let the yard go down, and by this means the mast was saved.

DAVID PORTER.

After the battle the first lieutenant of the "Constellation," John Rodgers, was sent on board the prize, with Porter and eleven men, to see to the removal of the prisoners. A fresh breeze blowing at the time delayed the work, and soon the night closed in, the wind increased to a gale, and the ships were separated. There were still one hundred and seventy of the Frenchmen on board the "Insurgente," with no one but Lieutenant Rodgers and his handful of men to guard them. Rodgers was a young man of muscular frame, which is a good thing at such times as these; and both he and Porter were cool and determined, which is a better thing. But they had no easy task. The gratings covering the hatchways had been thrown overboard. There were no means of securing the prisoners. The spars and rigging and sails of the prize had been cut and torn, and her decks and sides still bore the marks of battle: and here was Rodgers separated from the "Constellation," in a gale of wind, with only his faithful midshipman and eleven seamen, and with nearly two hundred prisoners who knew the weakness of their guards, and who were ready for any effort that would help them to retake the ship.

Difficult as his position was, Rodgers proved himself equal to it. He stationed a sentry at each hatchway with musket and pistols, ordering them to shoot the first man that attempted to come on deck, and with the other men he took care of the ship. For three sleepless days and nights—for neither he nor Porter could snatch a moment's rest—he sailed this way and that, almost at the mercy of the storm, and finally brought the vessel into St. Kitt's, whither the "Constellation" had gone before him.

During the next six months the war—for such we may call it, though in truth it was only a series of reprisals for injuries received—continued with unabated vigor. Nothing could show more clearly the importance of a navy than these same reprisals of 1798 and 1799. During the twelve months ending in July of the latter year many privateers of greater or less force had been taken, and France was now more ready to treat on equal terms. The frigate "United States," still under Barry, was selected to take out the new envoys sent by our Government to Paris, and her place on the windward station was taken by the "Constellation," Commodore Talbot in the "Constitution" relieving Truxtun at St. Domingo. New ships were sent out to both squadrons, which were instructed to go on with their captures in order that the French might see that we were in earnest and would put up with no more trifling.

Our merchant-ships still needed protection, for the privateers continued their aggressions, and besides the privateers there were in the West Indies many small armed vessels belonging to no State in particular, whose business was to seize and plunder anything they could. These last were little better than pirates, who made this or that island or bay a place of refuge for the moment, and were ready to change their character according to the ships that they fell in with. To serve against these picaroons, as they were called, two small but swift schooners were built,—the "Enterprise" and the "Experiment." They carried twelve guns each, and were exactly what was needed for the purpose. The "Enterprise" alone during her short cruise captured nine vessels carrying all together more than seventy guns and five hundred men; and besides this she recaptured eleven American merchantmen, and beat off a Spanish brig which sought to attack her. This was more than any of the frigates had accomplished.

The severest action of the war was yet to come, and this fell also to the lot of the "Constellation." In February, 1800, just a year after his fight with the "Insurgente," Commodore Truxtun was cruising to the west of Guadeloupe, when he came in sight of the "Vengeance," a heavy French frigate of the largest size, carrying fifty guns. Although she was much more than a match for Truxtun, she avoided an engagement and made sail to leave him. Truxtun without hesitation followed in pursuit; but the chase lasting several hours, it was twilight before he came up with her. Then he hoisted his ensign, lighted his battle lanterns, and gave his orders not to throw away a single charge of powder, but to take good aim, firing directly into the enemy's hull, loading with two round shot, and now and then a round shot and a stand of grape; and he told his officers "to encourage the men at their quarters, and to cause or suffer no noise or confusion, but to load and fire as fast as possible, when it could be done with certain effect."

As the commodore approached, his guns loaded and his gunners ready and waiting, he stood in the lee gangway to speak the "Vengeance," and demand her surrender to the United States of America. But at that instant she opened a fire from her stern and quarter guns directed at his spars and rigging. Truxtun gained a position on her weather quarter, and returned the enemy's salute; and now for five long hours of the tropical night the battle raged, a running fight, the two vessels keeping side by side within pistol-shot. The "Constellation's" gunners, bearing in mind their orders, planted one hundred and eighty shot in the enemy's hull; but their guns were light, and they could not inflict a fatal wound upon the great frigate's heavy side. But the slaughter on the Frenchman's decks was fearful, for fully one third of his crew lay killed or wounded. Three times his flag was struck during the battle, but in the darkness of the night it was not seen, and there was no cessation of the combat.

"IT WAS TWILIGHT BEFORE HE CAME UP WITH HER."

At last, about an hour after midnight, the enemy was silenced, and no answer came from his fifty guns. Both ships were still under way, the "Vengeance" sheering off; and Truxtun, knowing that the fight was over, was about to follow her as well as his torn and ragged sails would enable him, when he learned that all the rigging of the mainmast had been shot away, and that the mast was tottering. The men were called to repair the rigging and secure the mast; but it was too late, they could not save it. The officer of the maintop was James Jarvis, the youngest midshipman on board the ship. With him was an old blue-jacket, who told him of the danger they were in because the mast must surely go. But little Jarvis had been stationed by his captain in the top, and he only answered: "I cannot leave my station; if the mast goes, we must go with it."

So the mast fell: and Jarvis, the midshipman who would not leave his post, fell with it and was killed,—the only officer who perished in the action.

The "Constellation's" loss, all told, was forty killed and wounded. The "Vengeance," which she had so nearly captured, arrived a few days later at Curaçao in great distress, and almost a wreck.

In memory of this great battle, one of the most obstinate that our navy ever fought, Congress passed a resolution which should be read by all who care that gallant deeds should be remembered. This was the resolution:—

"Resolved, by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That the President of the United States be requested to present to Captain Thomas Truxtun a golden medal, emblematical of the late action between the United States frigate 'Constellation,' of thirty-eight guns, and the French ship-of-war 'La Vengeance,' of fifty-four, in testimony of the high sense entertained by Congress of his gallantry and good conduct in the above engagement, wherein an example was exhibited by the captain, officers, sailors, and marines, honorable to the American name, and instructive to its rising navy.

"And it is further Resolved, That the conduct of James Jarvis, a midshipman in said frigate, who gloriously preferred certain death to an abandonment of his post, is deserving of the highest praise, and that the loss of so promising an officer is a subject of national regret."

THOMAS TRUXTUN,—FROM MEDAL VOTED BY CONGRESS.

The active occupations of the navy in the West Indies continued for the next eight months, its last important capture being the fine corvette "Berceau," which yielded after a two hours' fight to Captain Little, in the "Boston." Already, a month before, the treaty with France had been concluded, and after it was ratified, a vessel was sent to the station with orders of recall for the whole squadron. During its service there it had taken or destroyed over ninety French vessels, mounting in all more than seven hundred guns, and had recaptured numbers of Americans. Among its trophies there were the frigate "Insurgente" and the corvette "Berceau," and not the least splendid chapter in its record was the long battle between the "Constellation" and the "Vengeance;" while in the two years but one ship had been lost,—the little schooner "Retaliation," and that was only a recapture.

It was this work of the navy which gained us the respect of France, from which State we had hitherto received only threats and insolence: and it teaches us the lesson that it is to our navy that we must always look in times like these to secure for us a proper treatment and consideration from domineering foreign powers. It would be well for us Americans, especially those who are ready to cry down the navy, to take to heart these words of the President, which he said in November, 1800, but which are just as true to-day, and which will be true to the end of time:—

"Seasonable and systematic arrangements, so far as our resources will justify, for a navy adapted to defensive war, which may, in case of necessity, be QUICKLY BROUGHT INTO USE, seem to be as much recommended by a wise and true economy as by a just regard for our future tranquillity, for the safety of our shores, and for the protection of our property committed to the ocean."

CHAPTER VII.

TRIPOLI.

The truth of President Adams's words was shown the very next year after they were uttered, when new difficulties arose with the Barbary Powers. We have seen how the old difficulties with Algiers had been settled, at least for a time, by a treaty which cost the Government a million. Under this treaty we agreed to send every year to the Dey of Algiers a present of naval stores of the value of twelve thousand sequins, or about twenty thousand dollars. In the autumn of 1800 this present—or tribute, as it was well called, for it was little else than a tribute—was carried to Algiers by the ship "George Washington," commanded by Captain Bainbridge. While his ship was lying in the port, the Dey commanded Bainbridge to go to Constantinople with an Algerine ambassador and presents for the Sultan of Turkey; for Algiers was then a vassal of the Ottoman Porte, although the Porte allowed the Dey to do much as he pleased in most things. It was a grievous outrage that a ship of the United States should be compelled to do such a service for a barbarian prince; but there is no doubt that Bainbridge chose the better part in complying with the demand. Though sometimes rash in war, he was wise and prudent in diplomacy; and as our Government, by yielding to the clamor of the Algerines for tribute, instead of chastising them for their outrageous conduct, had pointed out the line of action that it meant to follow, Bainbridge was right in conforming to the same rule. If he refused, unnumbered evils might happen: our unprotected commerce would be swept away; more of our countrymen would be captured and enslaved, or kept for years confined in dungeons; and fresh payments must be made for ransom. So he went to Constantinople.

It was then the rule—and it still is, for that matter—that foreign ships-of-war wishing to enter the Turkish straits of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus must first ask and receive permission from the Sultan. Bainbridge, who felt that he had had enough humiliation on the voyage, did not stop for this, but passing by the forts at night, anchored unannounced in the harbor of Constantinople; and here he lay, flying a strange flag which no one in the place had ever seen borne by a ship of war.

A Turkish officer was sent off to find out to whom this new craft belonged, and Bainbridge in reply told him, "the United States." When this was translated by the interpreter, and reported to the Turkish officials on shore, they shook their heads,—thinking the national appellation somewhat vague, as perhaps it is,—and sent a second time to gain more definite information. Bainbridge now answered that he came from "the New World." This statement seemed greatly to impress the Turks, and the ship was piloted into the inner port, and Captain Bainbridge and his officers were treated thereafter with deep respect, as was becoming toward any one who came from so remarkable a region.

When the "George Washington" had fulfilled her mission and had returned to Algiers, the captain found that the Dey had suddenly declared war against France, and had ordered all the French in his dominions to be put in prison. The foreign consuls, seconded by Bainbridge, implored the Dey to revoke his cruel order; and they were so far successful that he consented to put off its execution for forty-eight hours. But the Dey swore by his beard that if every soul—man, woman, and child—that belonged to France had not departed by that time from his territories, he would put in irons those that remained. The "George Washington" was at the moment the only ship in the harbor, and she was shifting ballast in the mole. But Bainbridge would not leave the Frenchmen to their fate; and by working night and day with all his officers and men he got the ship ready, took the fugitives on board, and sailed away, glad to get out of the clutches of this Oriental despot. He had no time to spare; for in less than an hour after his departure the limit had expired. Sixty Frenchmen were thus rescued by the captain's efforts, and after a short passage they were safely landed at Alicant, and the "George Washington" returned home.

About this time a new and very serious trouble began with another of the Barbary powers. This was Tripoli. When the Pasha of Tripoli had made his treaty with the United States some years before, he had received a large amount of money, but no agreement had been made for tribute. As soon, however, as the Pasha found that the Americans were sending every year a shipload of presents to Algiers, of whose power he was always jealous, he became enraged beyond all bounds; and he wrote to the President insolent letters demanding money and arms and naval stores. In one of these he said:—

"We could wish that these your expressions were followed by deeds, and not by empty words. You will therefore endeavor to satisfy us by a good manner of proceeding. We on our part will correspond with you with equal friendship, as well in words as deeds. But if only flattering words are meant, without performance, every one will act as he finds convenient."

As no attention was paid to these demands, the Pasha announced to the American consul that he would declare war; "For paid I will be," he said, "in one way or another." The consul tried to smooth over the difficulty, but without success; and on the 14th of May, 1801, just a week after Bainbridge had landed the French refugees at Alicant, the Pasha cut down the flagstaff of the American consulate at Tripoli, by which act he declared war against the United States.

It had been known at home for some time that trouble was brewing at Tripoli, and as the French war was now entirely over, a squadron was at this very time fitting out to go to the Mediterranean. It was commanded by Com. Richard Dale, that gallant veteran of the Revolution who had been the first lieutenant of the "Bon Homme Richard" in her fight with the "Serapis." But in this cruise Commodore Dale, though he had a good squadron, was not allowed to show what he could accomplish; because, although Tripoli had declared war, Congress had not yet recognized the fact, and the President was of the opinion that until Congress had passed an act making a declaration, the navy could not carry on war against a foreign State. The commodore was therefore prevented by his orders from capturing any prizes or prisoners; and from this singular arrangement it resulted, as might be expected, that nothing of any great importance was accomplished.

One event, however, took place in August of this year which at least showed the Tripolitans that war with the Americans was no child's play. That fine little schooner the "Enterprise," which had done such good service in the West Indies, was one of the ships of Commodore Dale's squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Sterrett. While cruising about in the Mediterranean, on the lookout for pirates, she chanced upon a Tripolitan polacca called the "Tripoli," of about the same force and size. The Rais or captain who commanded the polacca, Mahomet Sous, thought he would try the mettle of the American schooner, and made a furious attack upon her. The Tripolitans fight desperately; for they are little better than cut-throats, and, as their Pasha says, war is their trade. But they have not the skill of the Americans. Sterrett placed his schooner where he pleased. When the battle had fairly begun, he took the offensive himself; he attacked the enemy on her quarter, on her bow; he raked her fore and aft. After a bloody fight the "Tripoli" had received several shot in her side, and was badly cut up in her rigging. Then she hauled down her flag. The crew of the "Enterprise" left their guns, and gave three cheers, thinking that the victory was won. But the Tripolitans, though brave, were treacherous villains, and no sooner was their enemy off his guard than they hoisted their flag again and opened fire on the "Enterprise." So the battle began anew. This time the Turks attempted to board, crowding on the rail with their scimitars. But they were driven back, and again they made a pretence of surrendering, only to renew the fight at the first favorable moment.

"CROWDING ON THE RAIL WITH THEIR SCIMITARS."

The American blue-jackets were now in no humor for trifling. Their blood was up, for they were indignant at such unheard-of treachery, and it looked as if there would be no question to settle about prisoners, for the reason that none of the Tripolitans would be left alive. But the polacca was by this time in a sinking condition, her mizzen-mast was shot away, her deck was slippery with blood, and the dead and wounded were lying about in heaps; and the Rais, Mahomet, himself wounded and disheartened, convinced that the time had come when neither ferocity nor fraud could help him, threw his flag into the sea and prostrated himself upon the rail, begging for quarter. Then Lieutenant Sterrett, who was as generous as he was gallant, ordered the firing to cease and took possession of the enemy.

As the polacca could not be made a prize, the Americans cut away her masts, threw overboard her guns, and left her with the surviving fragment of her crew to make the best of her way back to Tripoli. Upon her arrival, the Pasha was so incensed at the news of her defeat that he had the Rais, wounded as he was, mounted on a jackass and paraded up and down the streets of the city, after which he was given five hundred blows of the bastinado. Such was the result of the first fight between the Americans and their piratical enemy, and it was a long time before the latter forgot the lesson.

By the autumn of 1801 the terms of enlistment of Dale's crews having nearly expired, his ships were ordered home, and in the next spring a new squadron was sent out under Commodore Richard Morris, Congress having meantime passed an act that was to all intents a declaration of war. But the new commodore was not an energetic man, nor did he seem to concern himself much about what was to be done; and a whole year was passed by the squadron in fruitless cruises among the Mediterranean ports, sometimes convoying merchantmen, sometimes merely lying in harbor, but doing little or nothing against the enemy. At the end of this time the President found it necessary to replace Commodore Morris by a more active man; and in the summer of 1803 he was ordered home, and upon his arrival was dismissed the service.

Already the Government had determined to fit out a new squadron, and to take more vigorous measures against Tripoli; for the people were rightly impatient at the dallying which had prolonged through two years this war with a little barbarian State, and it was against the navy that this impatience was mainly directed. Strange as it may seem, party feeling had run so high that the gallant exploits of the French war were thought by many Americans to be the bad results of a mistaken policy, rather than a source of pride and satisfaction to the country; and the officers and seamen of the navy, who were then and who have always been the single-minded and devoted servants of the people, were looked upon simply as the instruments of an odious party that meanly cringed to England and sought to embroil us in a war with France. In the last general election this party had been defeated and broken up, and the navy came in for a large share of the popular condemnation; which, as we at this day can clearly see, was exceedingly unjust to the brave men who composed the service.

Whatever men may have thought and said about the navy, it was evident that nothing but a naval war would bring Tripoli to terms, and the Government set about the work in earnest. Four new ships were built, which, though they were small, were well suited to their purpose,—the brigs "Argus" and "Siren," and the schooners "Nautilus" and "Vixen." Two of the larger frigates were sent out,—the "Constitution" forty-four, and the "Philadelphia" thirty-eight, the latter commanded by Captain Bainbridge; and last, but not least, one vessel of the old squadron remained, the schooner "Enterprise," which had already made herself famous under Sterrett, but which was to acquire still greater fame under Lieut. Stephen Decatur, who now commanded her.

The new squadron was strong in its ships, but its efficiency was mainly due to the officer who was ordered to take the chief command, Com. Edward Preble. Although not an old man, he was one of the few veterans of the Revolution that were still in the service; and though he had been a mere lad when he first sailed as a midshipman in the Revolutionary cruisers of Massachusetts, he had served throughout the war, and had learned well the lessons of naval discipline. What Paul Jones was in that war, and what Truxtun was in the West Indies, Preble became in the campaign against Tripoli,—the central figure of the war. He had around him the best and bravest of the young officers of the new navy,—as good as any navy the world has ever seen, but up to this time untried and unknown,—and it was Preble who in great measure made them what they afterward became.

Among the first of the new vessels to come out was the "Philadelphia." She had no sooner arrived in the Mediterranean than she made a most unexpected discovery. She had left Gibraltar to search for some Tripolitans that were reported to be cruising somewhere off the coast of Spain. One evening after dark, off Cape de Gatt, she fell in with two vessels,—a ship and a brig. Captain Bainbridge hailed the ship, which proved to be the "Mirboka," a cruiser of Morocco; and allowing her to suppose that he was English, Bainbridge ordered her to send him her passports. The Moorish officer who came on board the "Philadelphia" fell into the snare, and told Bainbridge that the brig which he had with him was an American. This was an extraordinary piece of news, for Morocco was then at peace with the United States; yet here was one of her ships-of-war preying on American commerce. The Moors must have thought that a State which could not protect its vessels from the attacks of Tripoli need not be much respected, and that the time was ripe for them to take a hand in the plundering which their neighbors were carrying on with such success and profit; so they had sent out their cruisers, and this was the first that had made a prize. The captured ship was the brig "Celia," of Boston, whose crew and captain were at that moment confined in the "Mirboka's" hold, to be carried to Morocco and sold as slaves or held for ransom. Fortunately Captain Bainbridge had arrived just in time to rescue the prisoners; and seizing the "Mirboka," he took her with him to Gibraltar.

COMMODORE EDWARD PREBLE.

This was the state of affairs when a few weeks later Commodore Preble, with the "Constitution," came out to take command of the squadron. He saw the situation at a glance, and he was not a man to hesitate long about taking action. If the Moors, who had seaports on the Atlantic, were not put down and the strait opened, it would be of no great use to clear the inland sea of pirates. The commodore immediately assembled all his ships, gave them orders to capture every Moorish vessel they could find, and himself proceeded in the "Constitution" directly to Tangier, in Morocco. The Emperor was expected to arrive here shortly with his army. He sent to know whether Preble would fire a salute in his honor. The commodore sent back his answer by the consul.

"As you think," said he, "it will gratify his imperial Majesty, I shall salute him and dress ship; and if he is not disposed to be pacific, I will salute him again!"

The resolute tone which Preble took in this and other communications had the desired effect. In three days after the Emperor arrived he had consented to renew the treaty his father had made with the United States, and had ordered the release of all the Americans that had been seized, together with their property. At the same time the orders which had been given to capture American vessels were revoked; whereupon Preble restored the "Mirboka," and withdrew his own order to seize the vessels of Morocco. This done, he sailed for Tripoli.

Already the "Philadelphia," with the schooner "Vixen" in company, had taken her station before the enemy's port, and preparations were made to maintain a strict blockade. It needed two vessels at least for this service; for if any accident happened to one alone, she would certainly be lost, being so far from help and close to the watchful guards of the enemy's harbor. Nevertheless, immediately after his arrival Captain Bainbridge heard from a Neapolitan merchantman that one of the enemy's corsairs had sailed the day before, and he sent the "Vixen" off to find her.

Next day, it being the 31st of October, a Tripolitan vessel was descried to the eastward of the city, attempting to work into the harbor. Captain Bainbridge at once gave chase. The wily Tripolitan kept on his course, not far from the shore, where he knew the water was full of reefs and sunken rocks which he could easily avoid, but which he hoped might prove a trap for his unsuspecting enemy. And so it came about; for the captain, whose zeal, as we have already seen, was sometimes greater than his prudence, forgetting the dangers of the treacherous coast, followed the Tripolitan, with a fair breeze and a good eight-knot speed, until suddenly the water began to shoal. Then realizing for the first time his peril, he turned his vessel's head off shore. But it was now too late; and an instant later the "Philadelphia" had shot up on a sunken reef, where she hung hard and fast, her great stem and bowsprit pointing upward in the air.

"HE CUT AWAY THE ANCHORS, ... BUT STILL THE SHIP HUNG FAST."

Even now the captain did not lose his confidence, and setting all sail he tried to force the vessel over; but this only had the effect of thrusting her higher on the rocks, and making escape more hopeless than ever. It was clear that this plan would not work. The boats were then sent out with leadsmen, who found deep water astern of the ship, and the yards were braced aback, and every one watched anxiously to see if she would not back off; but she did not move an inch. Then Bainbridge tried to lighten her. He cut away the anchors and threw overboard the forward guns, but still the ship hung fast.

Meantime the enemy discovered that their stratagem had proved successful, and word having been sent to the city, the Tripolitan galleys could now be seen in motion, evidently preparing to make an attack upon the helpless frigate. Soon they came out in a long line, their white lateen sails glistening in the afternoon sunlight, and their decks crowded with men eager for the splendid prize that chance and craft, combined with their opponent's over-confidence, had thrown within their reach. But they were wary, and they remembered the lesson which Sterrett had given them, that the Americans were stubborn fighters, and this time they meant to run no risks. Taking up their positions on the stern and quarter of the "Philadelphia," at a little distance, where no guns could be brought to bear on them, they opened fire with their heavy cannon; for each of these gunboats carried a long eighteen or twenty-four pounder in her bow, and the whole flotilla was a hostile force not to be despised even by a ship that could manœuvre.

As it was, the "Philadelphia" had heeled over, and the few guns that remained on board were useless, even after great holes had been cut with axes in her side to enable the crews to point them. The enemy fired high and only cut the spars and rigging; but all the same their ultimate success was sure if the ship could not get off the reef. In spite of the shot that rained upon them, the officers did not relax their efforts. The tanks of water in the hold were pumped out, and finally the foremast was cut away, carrying with it the main top-gallant mast. But it was all of no use, for the ship obstinately refused to budge; and as the sun was sinking in the horizon, Captain Bainbridge, to prevent what seemed likely to be a useless sacrifice of men, hauled down his colors.

No sooner was the flag lowered than the Tripolitans, setting up a shout, rowed quickly to the frigate and swarmed on board, over the rail and through every port-hole. Then there was a scene which has never before or since been witnessed upon an American ship-of-war. The pirates, intent first of all on plunder, looted every chest and locker in the ship. Nor did they stop here. The officers were forced to give them all that they demanded, and like so many highway robbers they took watches, epaulets, money; and when all the valuables were given up, coats, waistcoats, and cravats, until all the prisoners were stripped to their shirts and trousers. In this condition they were thrust into the boats and carried to the city. Here they were taken before the Pasha, who was so much elated by his capture that he received them in high good-humor, and as he counted over the number,—three hundred and seven officers and men,—he stroked his beard, and his avaricious eyes glistened as he thought of the heavy ransom that the United States would have to pay him before it could get them back. So he ordered them to be well cared for, and sent the officers to be quartered in the building which before the war had been the American consulate, where they were to remain during many months of captivity.

It was bad enough that so many officers and men should have been taken; but the mischief did not end here. For the next two days the Tripolitans worked away at the grounded frigate with their gunboats and lighters, and anchors carried out with hawsers from the stern; and by these means, with the help of favoring wind and tide, they at last succeeded in getting the "Philadelphia" off into deep water. Bainbridge, before he abandoned her, had ordered the carpenters to bore holes in her bottom; and if this had been well done, she would never have got afloat again. But the carpenters in their excitement and flurry had only half performed their task, and the ship was now in the enemy's hands in as good condition, barring a little needed repair, as she was before the accident. Even the anchors and guns which had been thrown overboard were discovered lying on the reef, where the water was only twelve feet deep, and the Tripolitans got them up without much trouble.

Meantime Commodore Preble, having despatched his business at Morocco to the great satisfaction of his Government, was now on his way to Tripoli in the "Constitution." Falling in one day with the British frigate "Minerva," he received the first news of the disaster; and going directly to Malta, he found there a letter from Captain Bainbridge confirming the report. It was a staggering blow to all his hopes at the very outset of his command. The Tripolitans, who had already become tired of the war and of the annoyances of the blockade, and whom he had hoped by resolute attacks speedily to overawe into submission, were encouraged by this their first great success to renewed efforts. Not only would they stand more firmly to their previous demands for tribute, but they would clamor for an enormous ransom for the three hundred prisoners; and unless they could be utterly crushed, they would get it, for they had the prisoners in their power, and in some way or other those three hundred Americans must be set free. The squadron, none too powerful at the beginning, had now lost one of its two principal vessels, and the force of the enemy was correspondingly increased. No wonder that Commodore Preble, writing to the Department of the loss of the frigate, should say in the bitterness of his heart, "It distresses me beyond description." But however great his distress, he never yielded to despondency, and the loss only urged him on to greater efforts to harass and reduce the enemy.

For the next two months the commodore and all the ships of his squadron were busy making preparations for the coming campaign. The first blow to be struck was against the captured frigate, and Preble resolved upon her destruction from the very moment when he heard of her loss. But he bided his time, patiently waiting until a good opportunity should arrive. Meanwhile a rendezvous for the squadron was established at Syracuse. The "Argus" was stationed at Gibraltar, to watch the Moors and guard the strait. The other ships were cruising about from point to point, giving protection and convoy to American vessels, and seizing any Tripolitan vessels they could find, though there were few of them that dared to venture out. About Christmas-time the "Enterprise" fell in with one of these craft, a ketch named the "Mastico," which was on her way to Constantinople with slaves on board,—a present from the Pasha to his master the Sultan. The slaves were not a capture of much benefit to the commodore, but the ketch was; for she had once been a French gunboat, and he saw how she might be of service in carrying out his most cherished scheme. So he made a tender of her and called her the "Intrepid."

All this time the prisoners at Tripoli were not forgotten. The Danish consul in the city, a kind-hearted and generous man, Nissen by name, was pleased to do all that he could to help the Americans. Through him Preble and Bainbridge were enabled to get letters to and from each other, and supplies were sent from Malta through an agency established there by the commodore. The secret parts of the letters were written in sympathetic ink, so that one only saw the writing when the letter was held before a fire. In this way the commander of the squadron was kept informed of all that went on in Tripoli, as far as Bainbridge knew it; and Bainbridge in his turn was much cheered by getting word from time to time that his friends outside had not forgotten him. He needed it badly, for what with the loss of his ship, and the gloomy prospect of a long captivity, he was at this time in great despondency; so that it did him good to hear from Preble the words the latter wrote in January from Malta: "Keep up your spirits, and despair not; recollect 'there's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft'!"

When Preble returned to Syracuse after this visit to Malta, he had completed his plan for the destruction of the "Philadelphia." Lieutenant Decatur, of the "Enterprise," had volunteered to command the expedition; and although he was very young, and had been only five years at sea, no better man could have been chosen than this gallant and true-hearted officer. He was to take the "Intrepid," whose Tripolitan rig would make a good disguise, and whose small size would enable her safely to navigate those dangerous waters, and with seventy-five officers and men to attack the frigate. The "Siren" was to go with him to support and cover his retreat. It was a perilous enterprise; almost rash, one would think, for the "Philadelphia" was lying fully armed and manned in the inner harbor, under the guns of the Pasha's castle and all the neighboring forts, and around her lay the galleys of the enemy's flotilla. Decatur took three other lieutenants, Lawrence, Joseph Bainbridge, whose brother was in prison in Tripoli, and Thorn; and six midshipmen were told off to go with them. Among these last were Thomas McDonough, who afterward won the great battle of Lake Champlain in the war with Great Britain, and Charles Morris, who in the same war was first lieutenant of the "Constitution" in her fight with the "Guerrière." Morris was at this time a boy of nineteen; and I shall tell the story of the attack as nearly as may be in his words.

A Maltese pilot, Catalano, who knew the harbor of Tripoli, and who could speak the language, had been engaged to go with the expedition. When the two vessels arrived off Tripoli, the wind was fresh and the sky lowering, and all seemed to threaten a storm. The "Siren" and "Intrepid" anchored under cover of the night, and Morris and the pilot were sent in with a boat to see if the passage to the harbor was safe, of which the pilot was doubtful. They found the surf breaking in a long line of foaming waves across the entrance, and Morris coming back reported that it would be dangerous to make the attempt. "It was a severe trial," said the poor boy, "to make such a report. I had heard many of the officers treat the doubts of the pilot as the offspring of apprehension, and the weather was not yet so decidedly boisterous as to render it certain that an attempt might not be made, notwithstanding our report; should such be the case, and should it succeed, the imputations upon the pilot might be repeated upon me, and, unknown as I was, might be the cause of my ruin in the estimation of my brother officers." Still, in spite of their murmurs of dissatisfaction, Morris, being a brave and independent lad, stood firm in his opinion, and the attempt was given up.

It was well that this was done; for before morning a furious gale had come up, and the ships, with difficulty getting away from the shore, were driven far to the eastward. For six days the storm continued, the officers and men being all this time cooped up in the little ketch with hardly room to breathe, and overrun with vermin which the slaves had left behind them. The midshipmen slept on the top of the water-casks on the lower deck, while the sailors were berthed in the same way in the hold.

At last the wind abated, and on the 16th of February the ships were once more in sight of Tripoli. The breeze was light and the sea smooth, and the "Intrepid" stood in slowly toward the town. The "Siren" stayed outside to lull suspicion; but in spite of all precautions she was seen and noticed from the harbor. The plan was for the "Siren's" boats to come in after dark and join in the attack. All through the afternoon the "Intrepid" kept on sailing slowly in, her drags in the water astern checking her headway so that she might not reach the town too early. Her crew remained below, that no suspicion might be roused by the unusual numbers, and only six or eight, dressed as Maltese, were allowed to come on deck. As the sun went down, the breeze grew fainter; and Decatur, fearing that if he delayed longer he might not be able with the light wind to reach the frigate, decided that he would not wait for the "Siren's" boats, saying to his officers, like Henry V. at Agincourt, "The fewer the number, the greater will be the honor."

It was now dark, and the lights could be seen glittering in the houses of the town and on the boats in the harbor, throwing bright reflections over the water. The last preparations were made on board the "Intrepid," and the officers, speaking in low tones, told each man once more his allotted duties, and cautioned all to steadiness and silence. The watchword for the night was "Philadelphia," by which they were to recognize one another in the confusion of the attack. There was no need to enjoin silence, for each man was busy with his own thoughts. "My own," said Morris, "were now reverting to friends at home, now to the perils we were about to meet. Should I be able to justify the expectations of the former by meeting properly the dangers of the latter?" These thoughts, mixed with calculations to get a good place in boarding, were passing through the minds of all as they waited in breathless expectation.

Gradually the "Intrepid" was borne along by the gentle breeze toward the inner basin. Her boat was towed astern. The young moon gave light enough to show her movements, but nothing could be seen upon her deck except Decatur and the pilot standing at the wheel, and here and there a man whose Maltese cap and jersey gave no indication of his hostile character. From end to end of the little ship the rest of the crew, crouching under the shadow of the bulwarks, were lying concealed from view, each man with his eye fixed on Decatur, waiting for him to give the order. Before them could be seen the white walls of the city and the forts.

"THE LIGHTS COULD BE SEEN GLITTERING IN THE HOUSES."

The first battery is now passed in silence, every man holding his breath. Right in the path of the "Intrepid" towers the "Philadelphia," with her great black hull and lofty spars, and around her lies the circle of batteries. The little craft speeds on noiselessly, steering directly for the frigate. Suddenly the anxious silence is broken by a hail from the enemy demanding the name and purpose of the ketch, and ordering her to keep away. Among the officers and men stretched on the deck can be seen the eager movements of heads bending forward to hear the colloquy. The pilot, speaking the language of the country, answers for Decatur, who prompts him in low tones. He says that he has lost his anchors in the gale,—which, as it happened, was the truth,—and asks to be allowed to run a hawser to the frigate and to ride by her during the night. To this the captain of the "Philadelphia" consents, and the ketch is approaching, when suddenly the wind shifts, blowing lightly from the ship, and leaves the "Intrepid" at rest not twenty yards away, motionless under the enemy's guns.

It is a moment of terrible suspense. The least mistake, the least disturbance or excitement, must mean detection, and detection now will seal the fate of all. But Decatur has that perfect calmness and clearness of judgment which is the highest bravery. There is no flurry. In his low quiet voice he orders the boat manned. His calmness calms the men, and with an air of lazy indolence they get in and take the oars, carrying a rope to another boat which meets them from the frigate. The work is done in silence; the ends are fastened, and the boat returns. The hawser is passed along the deck; the crew lying on it pull noiselessly, and the ketch slowly, slowly but surely, nears her place and lies fast alongside the enemy.

Suddenly a piercing cry breaks the stillness. "Americanos! The Americans are upon us!" The enemy has now discovered the disguise. But at the same moment Decatur's voice is heard ringing out, "Board!" and he and Morris, who has been watching him, leap to the enemy's deck. Springing to their feet as one man, the crew follow them, each with his cutlass and pistol. The Tripolitans are panic-struck; for a moment they huddle in a frightened crowd on the forecastle. One instant Decatur pauses to form his men, and then at their head he dashes at the enemy. The few who stay to offer resistance are cut down; one is made prisoner; the rest, driven to the bow, leap from the rail into the water.

The ship is now captured, and the victorious crew hurry to their appointed stations. Two parties are told off to the berth-deck, one to the forward store-rooms, and one under Morris to the cockpit. Each prepares its supply of combustibles, and when all is reported ready, the order is given to set fire. This done, each party leaves the ship, but Morris and his men barely escape through the smoke and flame with which the lower deck is already filled. Decatur, standing on the Philadelphia's rail, while the smoke rises around him and the flames are bursting from her ports, waits till the last man has returned, and as the "Intrepid's" head swings off, he leaps into her rigging.

"THE 'PHILADELPHIA' LIGHTS THEM ON THEIR WAY."

By this time all the Tripolitans have caught the alarm, and from batteries and gunboats in quick succession, all around the wide sweep of the harbor, are seen the sudden jets of flame followed by clouds of smoke, and the shores resound with the roar of cannon. One hundred guns are firing upon the little ketch, whose white sails are lighted up by the flames of the burning frigate. The harbor is a circle of fire, and the gallant band seem doomed to pay the penalty of rashness. The frigate is herself a source of danger, for her magazine must soon explode. But the crew of the "Intrepid," after giving three rousing cheers for their success, man the long sweeps and head their vessel seawards. The "Philadelphia," which reveals them to the enemy, lights them on their way. Her appearance is magnificent. The flames illuminate her ports, and mounting up the rigging and masts form columns of fire, which, meeting the tops, branch out in beautiful capitals. Behind her, thrown out into strong light by the burning ship, are the city walls and roofs, with dome and minaret rising above them,—bright points against the sky.

The guns of the "Philadelphia" commanding the harbor have been loaded and double-shotted. As the fire reaches them they are discharged, but their missiles do more injury among the Tripolitans than among their foes. The "Intrepid" seems to bear a charmed life under the converging fire of the enemy. The cannon-balls fall thickly in the water, ahead, astern, alongside, throwing up columns of spray; but only one shot touches her, and all the harm that does is to make a hole in her top-gallant-sail. A favoring breeze now springs up, and aided by the strong arms of the rowers at their sweeps, the ketch is carried out of range, and in a short time she has reached the open sea and joined her consort.

Meantime in the squadron lying at Syracuse the officers and men, and above all the commodore, had undergone profound anxiety. It had been thought that a week, or ten days at most, would be sufficient time for the two vessels to accomplish their work and return to the station. But as the time wore on and day after day passed by, the hopes of all began to turn to apprehension; for no one knew that for a week after they reached the enemy's coast the "Siren" and "Intrepid" had been driving about before the gale, their efforts for the moment directed only against the elements. Each day the horizon was scanned by the lookouts aloft, and as the second week came to an end with no sign of the expedition, the most hopeful shook their heads, and all were filled with a sense of dull foreboding. But on the morning of the fifteenth day the fleet was startled by the cry of "Sail ho!" from the mast-head, and every face peered anxiously toward the southern horizon. First one ship was seen, then two; and as they came nearer, and little by little their spars and rig could be distinguished, the hope that they might prove to be the missing vessels grew slowly into certainty.

Now a signal could be descried from the "Siren's" mast-head. What did it mean? Was it success, or failure? At length there was no doubt; and when from alternations of despair and hope the news was spread that Decatur had successfully achieved his purpose, and that the "Philadelphia" was indeed destroyed, the men's excitement knew no bounds, and cheer upon cheer of welcome and of exultation went up from all the vessels.

STEPHEN DECATUR.

One thing is certain: that no exploit of our navy since that time has surpassed in bravery and finished excellence this of Decatur,—"the most bold and daring act of the age," as it was called by Nelson, then commanding the fleet off Toulon. The commodore wrote his despatch to the Department, asking that Decatur might immediately be raised to the same grade as himself; and when the Government heard the news, it lost no time in granting Preble's generous request. In this way it came about that young Decatur, though barely five-and-twenty, became a post-captain in the navy, which he had entered less than six years before; and among all the officers of Preble's squadron, who were in all things like a band of brothers, there was not one that grudged him his promotion.

After the destruction of the "Philadelphia" the commodore desisted for the time from further enterprises; for it was now midwinter, and at this stormy season the dangers of the rocky coast made it imprudent to attempt active operations against the enemy. But there was no slackening in preparations for the campaign of the next summer, and meantime the blockade was maintained with strictness. By this means was captured a brig of sixteen guns which belonged to the Tripolitan consul at Malta, and which was seeking to smuggle powder and other contraband into the enemy's port. The prize was re-named the "Scourge" and taken into the service, making a useful addition to the squadron.

All this time the commodore was on the alert,—at Syracuse, Messina, Malta, Naples, as occasion called him, but never long in one place. At one time he appeared off Tripoli and gave the Pasha an opportunity to reduce his terms; but the Pasha, sulking after the loss of the "Philadelphia," would not yield one jot in his demands. The commodore next took three of his ships to Tunis, to quiet threatening demonstrations in that quarter, and to let the Bey know that the Americans, though occupied with Tripoli, still had time to keep an eye fixed upon him. Some of the vessels needed repairs, and these were in turn attended to. The weakness of the squadron in small gunboats, wherein lay so much of the enemy's strength, was a source of great concern; and Preble in his letters to the Department entreated that permission might be given him to buy or build them in the Mediterranean ports. But to this the Government would not consent; and Preble, as a last resort, went to Naples and obtained from the King of the two Sicilies, who was an enemy of the Tripolitans, a loan of six gunboats and two bomb-vessels, or mortar-boats, as we should call them now. They were not very seaworthy or efficient, and "required careful nursing," as the commodore said. "However," he added in his report to the Department, "as they were the best I could obtain, I have thought it for the good of our service to employ them, particularly as the weather in July and August is generally pleasant, and without them my force is too small to make any impression upon Tripoli."

At last all the preparations were completed, and the commodore toward the end of July set out to begin operations against the city. His whole force consisted of one frigate, three brigs, three schooners, and the eight small gunboats and mortar-boats which he had borrowed at Naples. Taking these last, the "Constitution," "Nautilus," and "Enterprise" set out from Syracuse, and arriving before Tripoli were joined by the blockading squadron, composed of the "Argus," the "Siren," the "Vixen," and the "Scourge." The ships made a brave display as they all appeared before the enemy's city; but in reality they were an insufficient force to bring to the attack of such a place, with its hundred guns protected behind massive walls, its fleet of nineteen gunboats, and its army on shore of twenty-four thousand soldiers. For they were desperate fighters, these Turkish bandits, when it came to a hand-to-hand conflict, as we have already seen from their fight with Sterrett; and in all the American fleet there were not above one thousand men. But the assailants were strong in one thing, and that was in their officers. Young as the officers were, they counted among their numbers the flower of the navy. There were Somers and the two Decaturs,—Stephen and James; Lawrence, the brave captain of the "Chesapeake" in the War of 1812; Hull, who captured the "Guerrière;" Stewart, who took the "Cyane" and the "Levant;" Charles Morris, Macdonough, Warrington, Blakely, Spence, Henley,—all of them preparing now for the greater war that was to come, in which they were to win new renown for the navy and the country. They believed in their commander-in-chief, who they knew would lead them to victory if any man could. They believed too in each other, and they fought side by side like true and generous comrades.