Burr now only intended to sail down to his own lands. On December 20th he sent word to Blennerha.s.sett that he would be at the mouth of the c.u.mberland River on the twenty-third. Two days later he put a number of horses on one of his boats, and with a few men to help him, floated down the c.u.mberland River to its mouth, where Blennerha.s.sett and the rest of their party were waiting for him. They joined their seven boats to his two vessels, and had a fleet of nine ships with about sixty men on board. On December 28th they sailed down the Ohio, and the next night anch.o.r.ed a little below Fort Ma.s.sac.

Country people along the river saw the flotilla pa.s.s, and sent word of it to the nearest military post. The captain there stopped all ships, but found nothing suspicious on any of them. "Colonel Burr, late Vice-President," the officer reported, "pa.s.sed this way with about ten boats of different descriptions, navigated with about six men each, having nothing on board that would even suffer a conjecture more than that he was a man bound to market. He has descended the river toward Orleans."

On the last day of 1806 the fleet reached the broad waters of the Mississippi River. Four days later they dropped anchor at Chickasaw Bluffs, now the city of Memphis. Again officers boarded the boats, and after examining the cargoes allowed them to go on their voyage. On January 10th they reached Mississippi Territory, and here they found the excitement intense.

The fleet was now in territory that was under the charge of General Wilkinson, and he immediately sent three hundred and seventy-five soldiers from Natchez to prevent Burr's further progress. On January 16th two officers rowed out to the boats, and were received pleasantly by Colonel Burr, who laughed at General Wilkinson's suspicions, and, pointing to his peaceful flotilla, asked if it looked as if it were meant for war? When he was told that the soldiers had orders to stop him, he answered that he was willing to appear in court at any time.

This satisfied the two officers, who asked him to ride next day to the town of Washington, which was the capital of Mississippi Territory, and appear before the court there. Burr agreed, and early next morning rode to Washington with the two officers who had called on him. There he was charged with having conspired against the United States government. His friends on the river remained on their boats, waiting for his return.

The expedition never went any farther.

Burr promised to stay in the Territory until the charges against him were cleared up. His charm of manner won him many friends, and people would not believe him a traitor. When the grand jury met they decided that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason. The judge, however, would not set him free, and Burr realized that General Wilkinson was using all his power against him. He thought that his only chance of safety lay in defying the court, and taking the advice of some friends fled to a hiding-place near the home of Colonel Osmun, an old acquaintance. He meant to leave that part of the country, but the severe weather blocked his plans. Heavy rains had swollen all the streams, and he had to change his route. He set out with one companion, but had to ask a farmer the road to the house of Colonel Hinson. The farmer suspected that one of the hors.e.m.e.n was Aaron Burr, and knew that a large reward had been offered for his capture. He carried his news to the sheriff, and then to the officers at Fort Stoddert. A lieutenant from the fort with four soldiers joined the farmer, and, mounting fast horses, they rode after the two men. Early the next morning they came up with them. The lieutenant demanded in the name of the government of the United States whether one of the hors.e.m.e.n was Colonel Burr. Aaron Burr admitted his name, and was put under arrest. He was taken to the fort, and held there as a fugitive from justice.

The cry of "Treason in the West" had been heard all over the country.

The great expedition against Mexico had dwindled to a small voyage to settle certain timber-lands. The formidable fleet was only nine ordinary river boats. The army of rebels had shrunk to less than sixty peaceful citizens; and the store of arms and ammunition had been reduced to a few rifles and powder-horns. Moreover Aaron Burr had neither attempted to fight nor to resist arrest. He had merely fled when he thought he stood little chance of a fair trial. Yet the cry of treason had so alarmed the country that the government found it necessary to try the man who had so nearly defeated Jefferson for the Presidency.

Orders were sent to bring Aaron Burr east. After a journey that lasted twenty-one days the prisoner was lodged in the Eagle Tavern in Richmond, Virginia. Here Chief-Justice Marshall examined the charges against Burr, and held him in bail to appear at the next term of court. The bail was secured, and on the afternoon of April 1st Burr was once more set at liberty. From then until the day of the trial interest in the case grew.

Everywhere people discussed the question whether Aaron Burr had been a traitor to his country. By the time for the hearing of the case feeling against him ran high. When court met on May 22, 1807, Richmond was crowded with many of the most prominent men of the time, drawn by the charges against a man who had so lately been Vice-President.

It was not until the following August that Colonel Burr was actually put on trial. The question was simply whether he had planned to make war against the United States. There were many witnesses, led by the faithless General Wilkinson, who were ready to declare that the purpose of the meetings at Blennerha.s.sett Island was to organize an army to divide the western country from the rest of the republic. Each side was represented by famous lawyers; and the battle was hard fought. In the end, however, the jury found that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason.

No matter what Burr and Blennerha.s.sett and their friends had planned to do in Mexico, the jury could not believe they had been so mad as to plot a war against the United States.

Burr, although now free, was really a man without a country. He went to England and France, and in both countries engaged in plans for freeing the colonies of Spain. But both in England and in France the people looked upon him with suspicion, remembering his strange history. At the end of four years he returned to the United States. Here he found that some of his early plans were coming to fulfilment. Revolts were breaking out in Florida, in Mexico, and in some of the West Indies. He was allowed no part in any of these uprisings. Florida became a part of the United States, and in time Burr saw the men of Texas begin a struggle for freedom from Mexico. When he read the news of this, he exclaimed, "There! You see! I was right! I was only thirty years too soon. What was treason in me thirty years ago is patriotism now!" Later he was asked whether he had really planned to divide the Union when he started on his voyage from Blennerha.s.sett Island. He answered, "No; I would as soon have thought of taking possession of the moon, and informing my friends that I intended to divide it among them."

Such is the story of Aaron Burr, a real soldier of fortune, who wanted to carve out a new country for himself, and came to be "a man without a country."

IV

HOW THE YOUNG REPUBLIC FOUGHT THE BARBARY PIRATES

I

Long after pirates had been swept from the Western Ocean they flourished in the Mediterranean Sea. They hailed from the northern coast of Africa, where between the Mediterranean and the desert of Sahara stretched what were known as the Barbary States. These states were Morocco, Algeria, Tunis, Tripoli, and the tiny state of Barca, which was usually included in Tripoli. Algeria, or, as it was commonly called from the name of its capital, Algiers, was the home of most of the Mediterranean pirates.

There was hardly a port in the whole of that inland sea that had not seen a fleet of the pirates' boats sweep down upon some innocent merchant vessel, board her, overpower the crew, and carry them off to be sold in the African slave-markets. Their ships were usually square-rigged sailing vessels, which were commonly called galleons. The pirates did not trust to cannon, and the peculiar shape of the ships gave them a good chance for hand-to-hand fighting. The dark-skinned crew would climb out on the long lateen yards that hung over their enemies'

deck, and drop from the yards and from the rigging, their sabers held between their teeth, their loaded pistols stuck in their belts, so that they might have free use of their hands for climbing and clinging to ropes and gunwales.

Strange as it seems, the great countries of Europe made no real effort to destroy these pirates of the Barbary coast, but instead actually paid them bribes in order to protect their crews. The larger countries thought that, as they could afford to pay the tribute that the pirates demanded, and their smaller rivals could not, the pirates might actually serve them by annoying other countries. So England and France, and the other big nations of Europe, put up with all sorts of insults at the hands of these Moorish buccaneers, and many times their consuls were ill-treated and their sailors made to work in slave-gangs because they had not paid as much tribute as the Moors demanded.

Many an American skipper fell into the hands of these corsairs. The brig _Polly_ of Newburyport, Ma.s.sachusetts, was heading for the Spanish port of Cadiz in October, 1793, when she was overhauled by a brig flying the English flag. As the brig came near her captain hailed the _Polly_ in English, asking where she was bound. Meanwhile the brig ran close in beside the _Polly_, and the Americans saw a large number of men, Moors by the look of their beards and dress, spring up from under the rail.

This crew launched a big boat, and nearly one hundred men, armed with swords, pistols, spears, and knives, were rowed up to the _Polly_. The Moors sprang on board. The Yankees were greatly outnumbered, and were driven into the cabin, while the pirates broke open all the trunks and chests, and stripped the brig of everything that could be moved.

The prisoners were then rowed to the Moorish ship, which sailed for Algiers. There they were landed and marched to the palace of the Dey, or ruler of Algiers, while the people clapped their hands, shouted, and gave thanks for the capture of so many "Christian dogs." They were put in prison, where they found other Americans, and nearly six hundred Christians of other countries, all of whom were treated as slaves. On the next day each captive was loaded with chains, fastened around his waist and joined to a ring about his ankle. They were then set to work in rigging and fitting out ships, in blasting rocks in the mountains, or carrying stones for the palace the Dey was building. Their lot was but little better than that of the slaves of olden times who worked for the Pharaohs. As more American sailors were captured and made slaves their friends at home grew more and more eager to put an end to these pirates, and when the Revolution was over the young Republic of the United States began to heed the appeals for help that came from the slave-markets along the Barbary coast.

The Republic found, however, that so long as England and France were paying tribute to the pirates it would be easier for her to do the same thing than to fight them. The American Navy was very small, and the Mediterranean was far distant. England seemed actually to be encouraging the pirates, thinking that their attacks on American ships would injure the country that had lately won its independence. So the United States made the best terms it could with the rulers of Algiers, Morocco, Tunis, and Tripoli, and paid heavy ransoms for the release of the captives. There was little self-respect or honor among the Moorish chiefs, however. One Dey succeeded another, each more greedy than the last, and each demanded more tribute money or threatened to seize all the Americans he could lay hands upon. The consuls had to be constantly making presents in order to keep the Moors in a good humor, and whenever the Dey felt the need of more money he would demand it of the United States consul, and threaten to throw him in prison if he refused.

This state of affairs was very unpleasant for free men, but for a number of years it had to be put up with. When Captain Bainbridge dropped anchor off Algiers in command of the United States frigate _George Washington_, the Dey demanded that he should carry a Moorish envoy to Constantinople with presents for the Sultan of Turkey. Bainbridge did not like to be treated as a messenger boy; but the Dey said, "You pay me tribute, by which you become my slaves. I have, therefore, a right to order you as I may think proper." Bainbridge had no choice but to obey the command, or leave American merchant vessels at the mercy of the Moors, and so he carried the Dey's presents to the Sultan.

As all the Barbary States throve on war, in that way gaining support from the enemies of the country they attacked, one or the other was constantly making war. In May, 1801, the Pasha of Tripoli declared war against the United States, cut down the American flagstaff at his capital, and sent out his pirate ships. In reply the United States ordered a squadron of four vessels under command of Commodore Richard Dale to sail to the Mediterranean. This squadron did good service, capturing a number of the galleys of Tripoli, and exchanging Moorish prisoners for American slaves. But the pirates were like a swarm of hornets; they stung wherever they got a chance, and as soon as the war-ships were out of sight they would steal out from their hiding-places to terrorize the coast. The United States had to keep sending squadrons to act as policemen. When the fleet kept together the Moors had proper respect for them, but once the ships separated they became the target for the hornets.

The frigate _Philadelphia_, of thirty-six guns, was detailed in October, 1803, to blockade the port of Tripoli. The morning after she reached there she saw a ship insh.o.r.e preparing to sail westward. The frigate gave chase, and as the other vessel carried the colors of Tripoli, the frigate opened fire. As she chased the Moor the _Philadelphia_ ran on a shelving rock that was part of a long reef. Her crew worked hard to get her off, but she stuck fast. As the Moors on sh.o.r.e saw the plight of the _Philadelphia_ they manned their boats, and soon she was surrounded by a swarm of pirate galleys. The galleys sailed under the fire of the frigate's heavy guns, and came up to close quarters, where the cannon could not reach them. The Americans were helpless, and by sunset Commodore Bainbridge had to strike his flag. As soon as he surrendered the Moors swarmed over the sides of his ship, broke everything they could lay their hands on, stripped officers and men of their uniforms, and tumbled them into the small boats. The prisoners were landed at night, and led to the castle gate. The sailors were treated as slaves, but the officers were received by the Pasha in the great marble-paved hall of his palace, where that ruler, dressed in silks and jewels, and surrounded by a gorgeous court, asked them many questions, and later offered them supper. But the favor of the Pasha was as fickle as the wind; within a day or two he was treating the American officers much as he treated his other Christian captives, and the crew, three hundred and seven in number, were worked as slaves. Meantime the Moors, using anchors and cables, succeeded in pulling the _Philadelphia_ off the reef, and the frigate was pumped out and made seaworthy. She was brought into the harbor, to the delight of the Pasha and his people at owning so fine a war-ship. The loss of the _Philadelphia_ was a severe blow, not only to American pride, but to American fortunes. The squadron was now much too small for service, and Bainbridge and his crew were hostages the United States must redeem.

It fell to the lot of Commodore Preble to take charge of the American ships in the Mediterranean, and he began to discuss terms of peace with Tripoli through an agent of the Pasha at Malta. By these terms the frigate _Philadelphia_ was to be exchanged for a schooner, and the Moorish prisoners in Preble's hands, sixty in number, were to be exchanged for as many of the American prisoners in Tripoli, and the rest of the American captives were to be ransomed at five hundred dollars a man. Before these terms were agreed upon, however, a more daring plan occurred to the American commodore, and on February 3, 1804, he entrusted a delicate task to Stephen Decatur, who commanded the schooner _Enterprise_. Decatur picked a volunteer crew, put them on board the ships _Siren_ and _Intrepid_, and sailed for Tripoli. They reached that port on February 7th, and to avoid suspicion the _Intrepid_ drew away from the other ship and anch.o.r.ed after dark about a mile west of the town. A small boat with a pilot and midshipman was sent in to reconnoiter the harbor. They reported that the sea was breaking across the western entrance, and as the weather was threatening advised Decatur not to try to enter that night. The two American ships therefore stood offsh.o.r.e, and were driven far to the east by a gale. The weather was so bad that it was not until February 16th that they returned to Tripoli.

This time the _Intrepid_ sailed slowly toward the town, while the _Siren_, disguised as a merchantman, kept some distance in the rear.

The frigate _Philadelphia_, now the Pasha's prize ship, lay at anchor in the harbor, and the _Intrepid_ slowly drifted toward her in the light of the new moon. No one on ship or sh.o.r.e realized the real purpose of the slowly-moving _Intrepid_. Had the men at the forts on sh.o.r.e or the watchman at the Pasha's castle suspected her purpose they could have blown her from the water with their heavy guns.

The _Intrepid_ drifted closer and closer, with her crew hidden, except for six or eight men dressed as Maltese sailors. Decatur stood by the pilot at the helm. When the little ship was about one hundred yards from the _Philadelphia_ she was hailed and ordered to keep away. The pilot answered that his boat had lost her anchor in the storm, and asked permission to make fast to the frigate for the night. This was given, and the Moorish officer on the _Philadelphia_ asked what the ship in the distance was. The pilot said that she was the _Transfer_, a vessel lately purchased at Malta by the Moors, which was expected at Tripoli about that time. The pilot kept on talking in order to lull the Moors'

suspicions, and meantime the little _Intrepid_ came close under the port bow of the _Philadelphia_. Just then the wind shifted and held the schooner away from the frigate, and directly in range of her guns. Again the Moors had a chance to destroy the American boat and crew if they had known her real object. They did not suspect it, however. Each ship sent out a small boat with a rope, and when the ropes were joined the two ships were drawn close together.

When the vessels were almost touching some one on the _Philadelphia_ suddenly shouted, "Americanos!" At the same moment Decatur gave the order "Board!" and the American crew sprang over the side of the frigate and jumped to her deck. The Moors were huddled on the forecastle.

Decatur formed his men in line and charged. The surprised Moors made little resistance, and Decatur quickly cleared the deck of them; some jumped into the sea, and others escaped in a large boat. The Americans saw that they could not get the _Philadelphia_ safely out of the harbor, and so quickly brought combustibles from the _Intrepid_, and stowing them about the _Philadelphia_, set her on fire. In a very few minutes she was in flames, and the Americans jumped from her deck to their own ship. It took less than twenty minutes to capture and fire the _Philadelphia_.

Decatur ordered his men to the oars, and the _Intrepid_ beat a retreat from the harbor. But now the town of Tripoli was fully aroused. The forts opened fire on the little schooner. A ship commanded the channel through which she had to sail, but fortunately for the _Intrepid_ the Moors' aim was poor, and the only shot that struck her was one through the topgallantsail. The harbor was brightly lighted now. The flames had run up the mast and rigging of the _Philadelphia_, and as they reached the powder loud explosions echoed over the sea. Presently the cables of the frigate burned, and the _Philadelphia_ drifted ash.o.r.e and blew up.

In the meantime the _Intrepid_ reached the entrance safely, and joining the _Siren_ set sail for Syracuse.

The blowing up of the _Philadelphia_ was one of the most daring acts ever attempted by the United States Navy, and won Decatur great credit.

It weakened the Pasha's strength, and kept his pirate crews in check.

Instead of making terms with the Moorish ruler, the United States decided to attack his capital, and in the summer of 1804, Commodore Preble collected his squadron before Tripoli. On August 3d the fleet approached the land batteries, and in the afternoon began to throw sh.e.l.ls into the town. The Moors immediately opened fire, both from the forts and from their fleet of nineteen gunboats and two galleys that lay in the harbor. Preble divided his ships, and ordered them to close in on the enemy's vessels, although the latter outnumbered them three to one. Again Decatur was the hero of the fight. He and his men boarded a Moorish gunboat and fought her crew hand-to-hand across the decks. He captured the first vessel, and then boarded a second. Decatur singled out the captain, a gigantic Moor, and made for him. The Moor thrust at him with a pike, and Decatur's cutla.s.s was broken off at the hilt.

Another thrust of the pike cut his arm, but the American seized the weapon, tore it away, and threw himself on the Moor. The crews were fighting all around their leaders, and a Moorish sailor aimed a blow at Decatur's head with a scimitar. An American seaman struck the blow aside, and the scimitar gashed his own scalp. The Moorish captain, stronger than Decatur, got him underneath, and drawing a knife, was about to kill him, when Decatur caught the Moor's arm with one hand, thrust his other hand into his pocket, and fired his revolver. The Moor was killed, and Decatur sprang to his feet. Soon after the enemy's crew surrendered. The other United States ships had been almost as successful, and the battle taught the Americans that the Barbary pirates could be beaten in hand-to-hand fighting as well as at long range.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DECATUR CAUGHT THE MOOR'S ARM]

The Pasha was not ready to come to terms even after that day's defeat, however, and on August 7th Commodore Preble ordered another attack.

Again the harbor shook under the guns of the fleet and the forts, and at sunset Preble had to withdraw. To avoid further bloodshed the commodore sent a flag of truce to the Pasha, and offered to pay eighty thousand dollars for the ransom of the American prisoners, and to make him a present of ten thousand dollars more. The Pasha, however, demanded one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and Preble was not willing to pay that amount. So later in August he attacked Tripoli again. Each of these bombardments did great damage to the city, but the forts were too strong to be captured. The blockading fleet, however, held its position, and on September 3d opened fire again in the last of its a.s.saults. In spite of the heavy firing the Pasha refused to pull down his flag.

On the night of September 4th a volunteer crew took the little _Intrepid_ into the harbor. She was filled with combustibles, and when she was close to the Moorish ships the powder was to be fired by a fuse that would give time for the crew to escape in a small boat. The night was dark, and the fleet soon lost sight of this fire-ship. She took the right course through the channel, but before she was near the Moors she was seen and they opened fire on her. Then came a loud explosion, and the _Intrepid_, with her crew, was blown into the air. No one knows whether one of the enemy's shots or her own crew fired the powder. This was the greatest disaster that befell the United States Navy during all its warfare with the Barbary pirates. Soon after Commodore Preble sailed for home, though most of his fleet were kept in the Mediterranean to protect American sailing vessels.

The government at Washington, tired with the long warfare in the Mediterranean, soon afterward ordered the consul at Algiers, Tobias Lear, to treat for peace with the Pasha. A bargain was finally struck.

One hundred Moors were exchanged for as many of the American captives, and sixty thousand dollars were paid as ransom for the rest. June 4, 1805, the American sailors, who had been slaves for more than nineteen months, were released from their chains and sent on board the war-ship _Const.i.tution_. The Pasha declared himself a friend of the United States, and saluted its flag with twenty-one guns from his castle and forts.

In the Barbary States rulers followed one another in rapid succession.

He who was Dey or Pasha one week might be murdered by an enemy the next, and that enemy on mounting the throne was always eager to get as much plunder as he could. Treaties meant little to any of them, and so other countries kept on paying them tribute for the sake of peace.

The United States fell into the habit of buying peace with Algiers, Tripoli, Morocco, and Tunis by gifts of merchandise or gold or costly vessels. But the more that was given to them the more greedy these Moorish rulers grew, and so it happened that from time to time they sent out their pirates to board American ships in order to frighten the young Republic into paying heavier tribute. Seven years later the second chapter of our history with the Barbary pirates opened.

II

The brig _Edwin_ of Salem, Ma.s.sachusetts, was sailing under full canvas through the Mediterranean Sea, bound out from Malta to Gibraltar, on August 25, 1812. At her masthead she flew the Stars and Stripes.

The weather was favoring, the little brig making good speed, and the Mediterranean offered no dangers to the skipper. Yet Captain George Smith, and his crew of ten Yankee sailors, kept constantly looking toward the south at some distant sails that had been steadily gaining on them since dawn. Every st.i.tch of sail on the _Edwin_ had been set, but she was being overhauled, and at this rate would be caught long before she could reach Gibraltar.

Captain Smith and his men knew who manned those long, low, rakish-looking frigates. But the _Edwin_ carried no cannon, and if they could not out-sail the three ships to the south they must yield peaceably, or be shot down on their deck. Hour after hour they watched, and by sunset they could see the dark, swarthy faces of the leading frigate's crew. Before night the _Edwin_ had been overhauled, boarded, and the Yankee captain and sailors were in irons, prisoners about to be sold into slavery.

They had been captured by one of the pirate crews of the Dey of Algiers, and when they were taken ash.o.r.e by these buccaneers they were stood up in the slave market and sold to Moors, or put to work in the shipyards.

Other Yankee crews had met with the same treatment.