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Jefferson and his Colleagues, A Chronicle of the Virginia Dynasty
Chapter III. The Corsairs of the Mediterranean
by Johnson, Allen
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Shortly after Jefferson's inauguration a visitor presented
himself at the Executive Mansion with disquieting news from the
Mediterranean. Captain William Bainbridge of the frigate George
Washington had just returned from a disagreeable mission. He had
been commissioned to carry to the Dey of Algiers the annual
tribute which the United States had contracted to pay. It
appeared that while the frigate lay at anchor under the shore
batteries off Algiers, the Dey attempted to requisition her to
carry his ambassador and some Turkish passengers to
Constantinople. Bainbridge, who felt justly humiliated by his
mission, wrathfully refused. An American frigate do errands for
this insignificant pirate? He thought not! The Dey pointed to his
batteries, however, and remarked, "You pay me tribute, by which
you become my slaves; I have, therefore, a right to order you as
I may think proper." The logic of the situation was undeniably on
the side of the master of the shore batteries. Rather than have
his ship blown to bits, Bainbridge swallowed his wrath and
submitted. On the eve of departure, he had to submit to another
indignity. The colors of Algiers must fly at the masthead. Again
Bainbridge remonstrated and again the Dey looked casually at his
guns trained on the frigate. So off the frigate sailed with the
Dey's flag fluttering from her masthead, and her captain cursing
lustily.
The voyage of fifty-nine days to Constantinople, as Bainbridge
recounted it to the President, was not without its amusing
incidents. Bainbridge regaled the President with accounts of his
Mohammedan passengers, who found much difficulty in keeping their
faces to the east while the frigate went about on a new tack. One
of the faithful was delegated finally to watch the compass so
that the rest might continue their prayers undisturbed. And at
Constantinople Bainbridge had curious experiences with the
Moslems. He announced his arrival as from the United States of
America he had hauled down the Dey's flag as soon as he was out
of reach of the batteries. The port officials were greatly
puzzled. What, pray, were the United States? Bainbridge explained
that they were part of the New World which Columbus had
discovered. The Grand Seigneur then showed great interest in the
stars of the American flag, remarking that, as his own was
decorated with one of the heavenly bodies, the coincidence must
be a good omen of the future friendly intercourse of the two
nations. Bainbridge did his best to turn his unpalatable mission
to good account, but he returned home in bitter humiliation. He
begged that he might never again be sent to Algiers with tribute
unless he was authorized to deliver it from the cannon's mouth.
The President listened sympathetically to Bainbridge's story, for
he was not unfamiliar with the ways of the Barbary Corsairs and
he had long been of the opinion that tribute only made these
pirates bolder and more insufferable. The Congress of the
Confederation, however, had followed the policy of the European
powers and had paid tribute to secure immunity from attack, and
the new Government had simply continued the policy of the old. In
spite of his abhorrence of war, Jefferson held that coercion in
this instance was on the whole cheaper and more efficacious.
Not long after this interview with Bainbridge, President
Jefferson was warned that the Pasha of Tripoli was worrying the
American Consul with importunate demands for more tribute. This
African potentate had discovered that his brother, the Dey of
Algiers, had made a better bargain with the United States. He
announced, therefore, that he must have a new treaty with more
tribute or he would declare war. Fearing trouble from this
quarter, the President dispatched a squadron of four vessels
under Commodore Richard Dale to cruise in the Mediterranean, with
orders to protect American commerce. It was the schooner
Enterprise of this squadron which overpowered the Tripolitan
cruiser, as Jefferson recounted in his message to Congress.
The former Pasha of Tripoli had been blessed with three sons,
Hasan, Hamet, and Yusuf. Between these royal brothers, however,
there seems to have been some incompatibility of temperament, for
when their father died (Blessed be Allah!) Yusuf, the youngest,
had killed Hasan and had spared Hamet only because he could not
lay hands upon him. Yusuf then proclaimed himself Pasha. It was
Yusuf, the Pasha with this bloody record, who declared war on the
United States, May 10,1801, by cutting down the flagstaff of the
American consulate.
To apply the term war to the naval operations which followed is,
however, to lend specious importance to very trivial events.
Commodore Dale made the most of his little squadron, it is true,
convoying merchantmen through the straits and along the Barbary
coast, holding Tripolitan vessels laden with grain in hopeless
inactivity off Gibraltar, and blockading the port of Tripoli, now
with one frigate and now with another. When the terms of
enlistment of Dale's crews expired, another squadron was
gradually assembled in the Mediterranean, under the command of
Captain Richard V. Morris, for Congress had now authorized the
use of the navy for offensive operations, and the Secretary of
the Treasury, with many misgivings, had begun to accumulate his
Mediterranean Fund to meet contingent expenses.
The blockade of Tripoli seems to have been carelessly conducted
by Morris and was finally abandoned. There were undeniably great
difficulties in the way of an effective blockade. The coast
afforded few good harbors; the heavy northerly winds made
navigation both difficult and hazardous; the Tripolitan galleys
and gunboats with their shallow draft could stand close in shore
and elude the American frigates; and the ordnance on the
American craft was not heavy enough to inflict any serious damage
on the fortifications guarding the harbor. Probably these
difficulties were not appreciated by the authorities at
Washington; at all events, in the spring of 1803 Morris was
suspended from his command and subsequently lost his commission.
In the squadron of which Commodore Preble now took command was
the Philadelphia, a frigate of thirty-six guns, to which Captain
Bainbridge, eager to square accounts with the Corsairs, had been
assigned. Late in October Bainbridge sighted a Tripolitan vessel
standing in shore. He gave chase at once with perhaps more zeal
than discretion, following his quarry well in shore in the hope
of disabling her before she could make the harbor. Failing to
intercept the corsair, he went about and was heading out to sea
when the frigate ran on an uncharted reef and stuck fast. A worse
predicament could scarcely be imagined. Every device known to
Yankee seamen was employed to free the unlucky vessel. "The sails
were promptly laid a-back," Bainbridge reported, "and the forward
guns run aft, in hopes of backing her off, which not producing
the desired effect, orders were given to stave the water in her
hold and pump it out, throw overboard the lumber and heavy
articles of every kind, cut away the anchors . . . and throw over
all the guns, except a few for our defence . . . . As a last
resource the foremast and main-topgallant mast were cut away, but
without any beneficial effect, and the ship remained a perfect
wreck, exposed to the constant fire of the gunboats, which could
not be returned."
The officers advised Bainbridge that the situation was becoming
intolerable and justified desperate measures. They had been raked
by a galling fire for more than four hours; they had tried every
means of floating the ship; humiliating as the alternative was,
they saw no other course than to strike the colors. All agreed,
therefore, that they should flood the magazine, scuttle the ship,
and surrender to the Tripolitan small craft which hovered around
the doomed frigate like so many vultures.
For the second time off this accursed coast Bainbridge hauled
down his colors. The crews of the Tripolitan gunboats swarmed
aboard and set about plundering right and left. Swords, epaulets,
watches, money, and clothing were stripped from the officers; and
if the crew in the forecastle suffered less it was because they
had less to lose. Officers and men were then tumbled into boats
and taken ashore, half-naked and humiliated beyond words.
Escorted by the exultant rabble, these three hundred luckless
Americans were marched to the castle, where the Pasha sat in
state. His Highness was in excellent humor. Three hundred
Americans! He counted them, each worth hundreds of dollars. Allah
was good!
A long, weary bondage awaited the captives. The common seamen
were treated like galley slaves, but the officers were given some
consideration through the intercession of the Danish consul.
Bainbridge was even allowed to correspond with Commodore Preble,
and by means of invisible ink he transmitted many important
messages which escaped the watchful eyes of his captors.
Depressed by his misfortune--for no one then or afterwards held
him responsible for the disaster--Bainbridge had only one
thought, and that was revenge. Day and night he brooded over
plans of escape and retribution.
As though to make the captive Americans drink the dregs of
humiliation, the Philadelphia was floated off the reef in a heavy
sea and towed safely into the harbor. The scuttling of the vessel
had been hastily contrived, and the jubilant Tripolitans
succeeded in stopping her seams before she could fill. A frigate
like the Philadelphia was a prize the like of which had never
been seen in the Pasha's reign. He rubbed his hands in glee and
taunted her crew.
The sight of the frigate riding peacefully at anchor in the
harbor was torture to poor Bainbridge. In feverish letters he
implored Preble to bombard the town, to sink the gunboats in the
harbor, to recapture the frigate or to burn her at her
moorings--anything to take away the bitterness of humiliation.
The latter alternative, indeed, Preble had been revolving in his
own mind.
Toward midnight of February 16, 1804, Bainbridge and his
companions were aroused by the guns of the fort. They sprang to
the window and witnessed the spectacle for which the unhappy
captain had prayed long and devoutly. The Philadelphia was in
flames--red, devouring flames, pouring out of her hold, climbing
the rigging, licking her topmasts, forming fantastic columns--
devastating, unconquerable flames--the frigate was doomed,
doomed! And every now and then one of her guns would explode as
though booming out her requiem. Bainbridge was avenged.
How had it all happened? The inception of this daring feat must
be credited to Commodore Preble; the execution fell to young
Stephen Decatur, lieutenant in command of the sloop Enterprise.
The plan was this: to use the Intrepid, a captured Tripolitan
ketch, as the instrument of destruction, equipping her with
combustibles and ammunition, and if possible to burn the
Philadelphia and other ships in the harbor while raking the
Pasha's castle with the frigate's eighteen-pounders. When Decatur
mustered his crew on the deck of the Enterprise and called for
volunteers for this exploit, every man jack stepped forward. Not
a man but was spoiling for excitement after months of tedious
inactivity; not an American who did not covet a chance to avenge
the loss of the Philadelphia. But all could not be used, and
Decatur finally selected five officers and sixty-two men. On the
night of the 3rd of February, the Intrepid set sail from
Syracuse, accompanied by the brig Siren, which was to support the
boarding party with her boats and cover their retreat.
Two weeks later, the Intrepid, barely distinguishable in the
light of a new moon, drifted into the harbor of Tripoli. In the
distance lay the unfortunate Philadelphia. The little ketch was
now within range of the batteries, but she drifted on unmolested
until within a hundred yards of the frigate. Then a hail came
across the quiet bay. The pilot replied that he had lost his
anchors and asked permission to make fast to the frigate for the
night. The Tripolitan lookout grumbled assent. Ropes were then
thrown out and the vessels were drawing together, when the cry
"Americanas!" went up from the deck of the frigate. In a trice
Decatur and his men had scrambled aboard and overpowered the
crew.
It was a crucial moment. If Decatur's instructions had not been
imperative, he would have thrown prudence to the winds and have
tried to cut out the frigate and make off in her. There were
those, indeed, who believed that he might have succeeded. But the
Commodore's orders were to destroy the frigate. There was no
alternative. Combustibles were brought on board, the match
applied, and in a few moments the frigate was ablaze. Decatur and
his men had barely time to regain the Intrepid and to cut her
fasts. The whole affair had not taken more than twenty minutes,
and no one was killed or even seriously wounded.
Pulling lustily at their sweeps, the crew of the Intrepid moved
her slowly out of the harbor, in the light of the burning vessel.
The guns of the fort were manned at last and were raining shot
and shell wildly over the harbor. The jack-tars on the Intrepid
seemed oblivious to danger, "commenting upon the beauty of the
spray thrown up by the shot between us and the brilliant light of
the ship, rather than calculating any danger," wrote Midshipman
Morris. Then the starboard guns of the Philadelphia, as though
instinct with purpose, began to send hot shot into the town. The
crew yelled with delight and gave three cheers for the
redoubtable old frigate. It was her last action, God bless her!
Her cables soon burned, however, and she drifted ashore, there to
blow up in one last supreme effort to avenge herself. At the
entrance of the harbor the Intrepid found the boats of the Siren,
and three days later both rejoined the squadron.
Thrilling as Decatur's feat was, it brought peace no nearer. The
Pasha, infuriated by the loss of the Philadelphia, was more
exorbitant than ever in his demands. There was nothing for it but
to scour the Mediterranean for Tripolitan ships, maintain the
blockade so far as weather permitted, and await the opportunity
to reduce the city of Tripoli by bombardment. But Tripoli was a
hard nut to crack. On the ocean side it was protected by forts
and batteries and the harbor was guarded by a long line of reefs.
Through the openings in this natural breakwater, the light-draft
native craft could pass in and out to harass the blockading
fleet.
It was Commodore Preble's plan to make a carefully concerted
attack upon this stronghold as soon as summer weather conditions
permitted. For this purpose he had strengthened his squadron at
Syracuse by purchasing a number of flat-bottomed gunboats with
which he hoped to engage the enemy in the shallow waters about
Tripoli while his larger vessels shelled the town and batteries.
He arrived off the African coast about the middle of July but
encountered adverse weather, so that for several weeks he could
accomplish nothing of consequence. Finally, on the 3rd of August,
a memorable date in the annals of the American navy, he gave the
signal for action.
The new gunboats were deployed in two divisions, one commanded by
Decatur, and fully met expectations by capturing two enemy ships
in most sanguinary, hand-to-hand fighting. Meantime the main
squadron drew close in shore, so close, it is said, that the
gunners of shore batteries could not depress their pieces
sufficiently to score hits. All these preliminaries were watched
with bated breath by the officers of the old Philadelphia from
behind their prison bars.
The Pasha had viewed the approach of the American fleet with
utter disdain. He promised the spectators who lined the terraces
that they would witness some rare sport; they should see his
gunboats put the enemy to flight. But as the American gunners
began to get the range and pour shot into the town, and the
Constitution with her heavy ordnance passed and repassed,
delivering broadsides within three cables' length of the
batteries, the Pasha's nerves were shattered and he fled
precipitately to his bomb-proof shelter. No doubt the damage
inflicted by this bombardment was very considerable, but Tripoli
still defied the enemy. Four times within the next four weeks
Preble repeated these assaults, pausing after each bombardment to
ascertain what terms the Pasha had to offer; but the wily Yusuf
was obdurate, knowing well enough that, if he waited, the gods of
wind and storm would come to his aid and disperse the enemy's
fleet.
It was after the fifth ineffectual assault that Preble determined
on a desperate stroke. He resolved to fit out a fireship and to
send her into the very jaws of death, hoping to destroy the
Tripolitan gunboats and at the same time to damage the castle and
the town. He chose for this perilous enterprise the old Intrepid
which had served her captors so well, and out of many volunteers
he gave the command to Captain Richard Somers and Lieutenant
Henry Wadsworth. The little ketch was loaded with a hundred
barrels of gunpowder and a large quantity of combustibles and
made ready for a quick run by the batteries into the harbor.
Certain death it seemed to sail this engine of destruction past
the outlying reefs into the midst of the Tripolitan gunboats; but
every precaution was taken to provide for the escape of the crew.
Two rowboats were taken along and in these frail craft, they
believed, they could embark, when once the torch had been
applied, and in the ensuing confusion return to the squadron.
Somers selected his crew of ten men with care, and at the last
moment consented to let Lieutenant Joseph Israel join the
perilous expedition. On the night of the 4th of September, the
Intrepid sailed off in the darkness toward the mouth of the
harbor. Anxious eyes followed the little vessel, trying to pierce
the blackness that soon enveloped her. As she neared the harbor
the shore batteries opened fire; and suddenly a blinding flash
and a terrific explosion told the fate which overtook her.
Fragments of wreckage rose high in the air, the fearful
concussion was felt by every boat in the squadron, and then
darkness and awful silence enfolded the dead and the dying. Two
days later the bodies of the heroic thirteen, mangled beyond
recognition, were cast up by the sea. Even Captain Bainbridge,
gazing sorrowfully upon his dead comrades could not recognize
their features. Just what caused the explosion will never be
known. Preble always believed that Tripolitans had attempted to
board the Intrepid and that Somers had deliberately fired the
powder magazine rather than surrender. Be that as it may, no one
doubts that the crew were prepared to follow their commander to
self-destruction if necessary. In deep gloom, the squadron
returned to Syracuse, leaving a few vessels to maintain a fitful
blockade off the hated and menacing coast.
Far away from the sound of Commodore Preble's guns a strange,
almost farcical, intervention in the Tripolitan War was
preparing. The scene shifts to the desert on the east, where
William Eaton, consul at Tunis, becomes the center of interest.
Since the very beginning of the war, this energetic and
enterprising Connecticut Yankee had taken a lively interest in
the fortunes of Hamet Karamanli, the legitimate heir to the
throne, who had been driven into exile by Yusuf the pretender.
Eaton loved intrigue as Preble gloried in war. Why not assist
Hamet to recover his throne? Why not, in frontier parlance, start
a back-fire that would make Tripoli too hot for Yusuf? He laid
his plans before his superiors at Washington, who, while not
altogether convinced of his competence to play the king-maker,
were persuaded to make him navy agent, subject to the orders of
the commander of the American squadron in the Mediterranean.
Commodore Samuel Barron, who succeeded Preble, was instructed to
avail himself of the cooperation of the ex-Pasha of Tripoli if he
deemed it prudent. In the fall of 1804 Barron dispatched Eaton in
the Argus, Captain Isaac Hull commander, to Alexandria to find
Hamet and to assure him of the cooperation of the American
squadron in the reconquest of his kingdom. Eaton entered thus
upon the coveted role: twenty centuries looked down upon him as
they had upon Napoleon.
A mere outline of what followed reads like the scenario of an
opera bouffe. Eaton ransacked Alexandria in search, of Hamet the
unfortunate but failed to find the truant. Then acting on a rumor
that Hamet had departed up the Nile to join the Mamelukes, who
were enjoying one of their seasonal rebellions against
constituted authority, Eaton plunged into the desert and finally
brought back the astonished and somewhat reluctant heir to the
throne. With prodigious energy Eaton then organized an expedition
which was to march overland toward Derne, meet the squadron at
the Bay of Bomba, and descend vi et armis upon the unsuspecting
pretender at Tripoli. He even made a covenant with Hamet
promising with altogether unwarranted explicitness that the
United States would use "their utmost exertions" to reestablish
him in his sovereignty. Eaton was to be "general and
commander-in-chief of the land forces." This aggressive Yankee
alarmed Hamet, who clearly did not want his sovereignty badly
enough to fight for it.
The international army which the American generalissimo mustered
was a motley array: twenty-five cannoneers of uncertain
nationality, thirty-eight Greeks, Hamet and his ninety followers,
and a party of Arabian horsemen and camel-drivers--all told about
four hundred men. The story of their march across the desert is a
modern Anabasis. When the Arabs were not quarreling among
themselves and plundering the rest of the caravan, they were
demanding more pay. Rebuffed they would disappear with their
camels into the fastnesses of the desert, only to reappear
unexpectedly with new importunities. Between Hamet, who was in
constant terror of his life and quite ready to abandon the
expedition, and these mutinous Arabs, Eaton was in a position to
appreciate the vicissitudes of Xenophon and his Ten Thousand. No
ordinary person, indeed, could have surmounted all obstacles and
brought his balky forces within sight of Derne.
Supported by the American fleet which had rendezvoused as agreed
in the Bay of Bomba, the four hundred advanced upon the city.
Again the Arab contingent would have made off into the desert but
for the promise of more money. Hamet was torn by conflicting
emotions, in which a desire to retreat was uppermost. Eaton was,
as ever, indefatigable and indomitable. When his forces were
faltering at the crucial moment, he boldly ordered an assault and
carried the defenses of the city. The guns of the ships in the
harbor completed the discomfiture of the enemy, and the
international army took possession of the citadel. Derne won,
however, had to be resolutely defended. Twice within the next
four weeks, Tripolitan forces were beaten back only with the
greatest difficulty. The day after the second assault (June l0th)
the frigate Constellation arrived off Derne with orders which
rang down the curtain on this interlude in the Tripolitan War.
Derne was to be evacuated! Peace had been concluded!
Just what considerations moved the Administration to conclude
peace at a moment when the largest and most powerful American
fleet ever placed under a single command was assembling in the
Mediterranean and when the land expedition was approaching its
objective, has never been adequately explained. Had the
President's belligerent spirit oozed away as the punitive
expeditions against Tripoli lost their merely defensive character
and took on the proportions of offensive naval operations? Had
the Administration become alarmed at the drain upon the treasury?
Or did the President wish to have his hands free to deal with
those depredations upon American commerce committed by British
and French cruisers which were becoming far more frequent and
serious than ever the attacks of the Corsairs of the
Mediterranean had been? Certain it is that overtures of peace
from the Pasha were welcomed by the very naval commanders who had
been most eager to wrest a victory from the Corsairs. Perhaps
they, too, were wearied by prolonged war with an elusive foe off
a treacherous coast.
How little prepared the Administration was to sustain a prolonged
expedition by land against Tripoli to put Hamet on his throne,
appears in the instructions which Commodore Barron carried to the
Mediterranean. If he could use Eaton and Hamet to make a
diversion, well and good; but he was at the same time to assist
Colonel Tobias Lear, American Consul-General at Algiers, in
negotiating terms of peace, if the Pasha showed a conciliatory
spirit. The Secretary of State calculated that the moment had
arrived when peace could probably be secured "without any price
and pecuniary compensation whatever."
Such expectations proved quite unwarranted. The Pasha was ready
for peace, but he still had his price. Poor Bainbridge, writing
from captivity, assured Barron that the Pasha would never let his
prisoners go without a ransom. Nevertheless, Commodore Barron
determined to meet the overtures which the Pasha had made through
the Danish consul at Tripoli. On the 24th of May he put the
frigate Essex at the disposal of Lear, who crossed to Tripoli and
opened direct negotiations.
The treaty which Lear concluded on June 4, 1805, was an
inglorious document. It purchased peace, it is true, and the
release of some three hundred sad and woe-begone American
sailors. But because the Pasha held three hundred prisoners, and
the United States only a paltry hundred, the Pasha was to receive
sixty thousand dollars. Derne was to be evacuated and no further
aid was to be given to rebellious subjects. The United States was
to endeavor to persuade Hamet to withdraw from the soil of
Tripoli--no very difficult matter--while the Pasha on his part
was to restore Hamet's family to him--at some future time.
Nothing was said about tribute; but it was understood that
according to ancient custom each newly appointed consul should
carry to the Pasha a present not exceeding six thousand dollars.
The Tripolitan War did not end in a blaze of glory for the United
States. It had been waged in the spirit of "not a cent for
tribute"; it was concluded with a thinly veiled payment for
peace; and, worst of all, it did not prevent further trouble with
the Barbary States. The war had been prosecuted with vigor under
Preble; it had languished under Barron; and it ended just when
the naval forces were adequate to the task. Yet, from another
point of view, Preble, Decatur, Somers, and their comrades had
not fought in vain. They had created imperishable traditions for
the American navy; they had established a morale in the service;
and they had trained a group of young officers who were to give a
good account of themselves when their foes should be not shifty
Tripolitans but sturdy Britons.
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