In the old days on the "United States" there happened an affair which immediately established his reputation as an officer and a man. At first he was not understood. His brother midshipmen, mistaking the reserve of his manner for weakness, did not hesitate before they had been aboard with him a month to take advantage of him in the steerage and on deck in every possible way. Not only did they slight him, but, after the manner of the cadet midshipman of recent years, they made him the b.u.t.t of most of their practical jokes below-decks. Somers stood it for a while in silence. He dearly loved peace, and, beyond a good-humored protest, let everything pa.s.s for what it was worth. But as the weeks went by and the bantering continued, instead of laughing it off as before, Somers became more and more quiet and self-contained.

Decatur, ever humorous and mischief-making, had himself been one of the worst to chaff his comrade; but he knew what Somers' silence meant, and he desisted. He had been his school-mate in Philadelphia, and he had seen that ominous quiet before. Decatur would have fought for him to the last drop of his blood, but he felt that his comrade was well able to look out for himself.

Somers went about his duties quietly, never giving a sign that there was anything upon his mind until the day before coming into port, then he went to Decatur, and said,--

"Stephen, to-morrow I want you to go ash.o.r.e with me, for I am going to meet three men."

The next afternoon a cutter containing Somers, Decatur, and three midshipmen, with their seconds, went ash.o.r.e and found a secluded spot upon the beach where they would be free from interference. He had challenged all three to fight at the same time and would take them in succession.

In the first two duels Somers received two shots in the body, the latter one of which caused him to sink upon the sand as though dangerously hurt; but he rallied quickly, and, seeing that the third midshipman was standing waiting to see if the battle could be continued, he tried to struggle to his feet. He found he could not get up, and Decatur offered to take his place and receive the fire of the third midshipman. But Somers, though suffering greatly, was not to be deterred, and bade Decatur prop him up in a sitting posture, in which position he exchanged shots with the third man. Fortunately, none of the injuries resulted fatally, and in a few weeks Somers was on deck again. He went about his duties as quietly as before, but never after that did they call him milksop.

It was Somers who led one division of the gunboats to attack the Tripolitan fleet while Decatur was leading the other. Finding that he could not reach them by the eastern entrance, he sailed into the northern entrance of the harbor and single-handed boldly sent his little vessel into the midst of five of the enemy. His gunboat was smaller than any one of those of his adversaries; but so well was his long gun served and so true was the fire of his musketry that he held them at bay for half an hour, and not one of them succeeded in getting alongside of him to board.

They were all bearing straight down upon the rocks, though, and Somers could not spare enough men from the guns to man his sweeps. But Preble, on the "Const.i.tution," saw his danger, and, coming up in time, sent a broadside of grape among the pirates, and they got out their sweeps and retreated, when, in spite of the doggedness of the defence, one united attack would have made the victory theirs. But as they drew off, instead of returning, as Preble wished, to the "Const.i.tution," Somers pursued them until within less than a cable's length of a twelve-gun battery, which had not fired before for fear of damaging the fleeing Tripolitans. When she opened fire at this close range the destruction of Somers's valiant little vessel seemed inevitable. But by a lucky chance a bombard exploded in the battery, blew up the platform, and drove the Tripolitans to cover.

Before they could recover and train their guns, Somers managed to bring his craft out in safety. In a later action, as Somers stood leaning against a flag-staff on his little vessel, a shot came directly for him.

The officer saw it in time, and jumped aside to see the spar carried away at just the spot where his head had been. He was spared for more deadly work.

While these many attacks were being made upon the gunboats and batteries, the "Intrepid," in which Decatur had recaptured and destroyed the "Philadelphia," was being rapidly prepared as a fire-ship. Their plan was to load her with a hundred barrels of powder in bulk, with bags of grape and solid shot, and under cover of the night explode her in the midst of the Tripolitan war-vessels. Somers, who had been frequently in the harbor of Tripoli and knew its reefs and rocks so that he could readily thread his way through the narrow channels, asked for the opportunity to command this expedition. But Decatur's success in boarding the "Philadelphia"

had raised the chivalry of every officer and man in the fleet to a point rarely equalled in our own history, and Somers, while he did not begrudge Decatur his two epaulettes, was filled with the pa.s.sion to do a deed as great, if not greater. They had been rivals since youth, and he felt that now was the opportunity to attempt a great deed for his country, though he and every man in the fleet knew that the chances of coming out alive were but one in a hundred. Somers went to Commodore Preble and urged his knowledge of the harbor as his chief claim to the service. It was an honor that a half-dozen other men sought, and not until the old commodore had weighed the chances fully did he at last agree to let Somers go.

But, before consenting, Preble repeatedly warned the young officer of the desperate character of the work, and told him that on account of the Napoleonic wars the Tripolitans were short of ammunition, and that so much powder must not fall into the hands of the enemy. But Somers needed no warning. A day or two afterwards, when the preparations were nearly completed, Preble and some other officers were trying a fuse in the cabin of the "Const.i.tution." One of the officers, watch in hand, ventured the opinion that it burned too long and might enable the enemy to put it out before it exploded the magazine. Hearing this, Somers said, quietly,--

"I ask for no fuse at all."

He was more gentle than ever in those last few days, and as he and Decatur leaned over the hammock-nettings of "Old Ironsides," looking towards the line of white where the sea was breaking over the outer roofs, the melancholy look seemed to deepen and the far-away expression in his eyes was of another world. Decatur knew that rather than give up his ship and his powder, Somers would blow the ship and himself to eternity.

When volunteers were called for, the desperateness of the enterprise was fully explained; but the crew of the "Nautilus," Somers's own vessel stepped forward to a man. He selected four,--James Simms, Thomas Tompline, James Harris, and William Keith. From the "Const.i.tution" he took William Harrison, Robert Clark, Hugh McCormick, Jacob Williams, Peter Penner, and Isaac Downes. Midshipman Henry Wadsworth (an uncle of the poet Longfellow) was chosen as second in command. Midshipman Joseph Israel, having vainly pleaded with Somers to be allowed to go, at the last moment smuggled himself aboard the "Intrepid," and when discovered Somers had not the heart to send him back.

Decatur and Stewart went aboard the "Nautilus" on the evening that the attempt had been planned. The three had been so closely united all their lives that Stewart and Decatur felt the seriousness of the moment. Even professionally the attempt seemed almost foolhardy, for several Tripolitan vessels had come to anchor just within the entrance, and to pa.s.s them even at night seemed an impossibility. Somers felt a premonition of his impending catastrophe, for just as they were about to return to their own vessels he took a ring from his finger and, breaking it into three pieces, gave each of them a part, retaining the third for himself.

As soon as the night fell the "Intrepid" cast off her lines and went slowly up towards the harbor. The "Argus," the "Vixen," and the "Nautilus"

followed her, while shortly afterwards Stewart on the "Siren" became so anxious that he followed, too. A haze that had come up when the sun went down hung heavily over the water, and soon the lines of the fire-ship became a mere gray blur against the dark coast-line beyond. The excitement upon the guard-ships now became intense, and both officers and men climbed the rigging and leaned out in the chains in the hope of being able to follow the movements of the ketch. Midshipman Ridgley, on the "Nautilus,"

by the aid of a powerful night-gla.s.s aloft, managed to follow her until she got well within the harbor, and then she vanished. The suspense soon became almost unbearable, for not a shot had been fired and not a sound came from the direction in which she had gone. At about nine o'clock a half-dozen cannon-shots could be plainly heard, and even the knowledge that she had been discovered and was being fired on was a relief from the awful silence.

At about ten o'clock Stewart was standing at the gangway of the "Siren,"

with Lieutenant Carrol, when the latter, craning his neck out into the night, suddenly exclaimed,--

"Look! See the light!"

Stewart saw away up the harbor a speck of light, as if from a lantern, which moved rapidly, as though it were being carried by some one running along a deck. Then it paused and disappeared from view. In a second a tremendous flame shot up hundreds of feet into the air, and the glare of it was so intense that it seemed close aboard. The flash and shock were so stupendous that the guard-ships, though far out to sea, trembled and shivered like the men who watched and were blinded. The sound of the explosion which followed seemed to shake sea and sky. It was like a hundred thunder-claps, and they could hear the echoes of it go rolling down across the water until it was swallowed up in the silence of the night.

That was all. The officers and the men looked at one another in mute horror. Could anything have lived in the area of that dreadful explosion?

The tension upon the men of the little fleet was almost at the breaking point. Every eye was strained towards the harbor and every ear caught eagerly at the faintest sound. Officers and men frequently asked one another the question, "Have you heard anything yet?" with always the same reply.

The vessels beat to and fro between the harbor-entrances, firing rockets and guns for the guidance of possible fugitives. And the doleful sound of that gun made the silences the more depressing. All night long did the fleet keep vigil, but not a shot, a voice, or even a splash came from the harbor.

With the first streaks of dawn the Americans were aloft with their gla.s.ses. On the rocks at the northern entrance, through which the "Intrepid" had pa.s.sed, they saw a mast and fragments of vessels. When the mist cleared they saw that one of the enemy's largest gunboats had disappeared and two others were so badly shattered that they lay upon the sh.o.r.e for repairs.

The details of the occurrence were never actually known, but it is thought that Somers, being laid aboard by three gunboats before actually in the midst of the shipping, and feeling himself overpowered, fired his magazine and destroyed himself and his own men in his avowed purpose not to be taken by the enemy.

Thus died Richard Somers, Henry Wadsworth, the midshipman, Joseph Israel, and ten American seamen, whose names have been inscribed on the navy's roll of fame. Nothing can dim the honor of a man who dies willingly for his country.

THE Pa.s.sING OF THE OLD NAVY

OLD SALTS AND NEW SAILORS

Since ballad-mongering began, the sea and the men who go down to it in ships have been a fruitful theme; and the conventional song-singing, horn-piping tar of the chanteys is a creature of fancy, pure and simple.

Jack is as honest as any man. Aboard ship he goes about his duties willingly, a creature of habit and environment, with a goodly respect for his "old man" and the articles of war. Ash.o.r.e he is an innocent,--a brand for the burning, with a half-month's pay and a devouring thirst.

Sailor-men all over the world are the same, and will be throughout all time, except in so far as their life is improved by new conditions. Though Jack aboard ship is the greatest grumbler in the world, ash.o.r.e he loves all the world, and likes to be taken for the sailor of the songs. In a week he will spend the earnings of many months, and go back aboard ship, sadder, perhaps, but never a wiser man.

He seldom makes resolutions, however, and so, when anchor takes ground again, his money leaves him with the same merry clink as before. Though a Bohemian and a nomad, he does not silently steal away, like the Arab.

His goings, like his comings, are accompanied with much carousing and song-singing; and the sweetheart he leaves gets to know that wiving is not for him. With anchor atrip and helm alee, Jack mourns not, no matter whither bound.

The improved conditions on the modern men-of-war have changed things for him somewhat, and, though still impregnated with old ideas, Jack is more temperate, more fore-sighted, and more self-reliant than he once was. His lapses of discipline and his falls from grace are less frequent than of yore, for he has to keep an eye to windward if he expects to win any of the benefits that are generously held out to the hard-working, sober, and deserving.

But the bitterness of the old days is barely disguised in the jollity of the chanteys. However we take it, the sea-life is a hardship the like of which no land-lubber knows. Stories of the trials of the merchant service come to him now and then and open his eyes to the real conditions of the service.

Men are greater brutes at sea than ash.o.r.e. The one-man power, absolute, supreme in the old days, when all license was free and monarchies trod heavily on weak necks, led men to deeds of violence and death, whenever violence and death seemed the easiest methods of enforcing discipline. Men were knocked down hatchways, struck with belaying-pins, made to toe the seam on small provocation or on no provocation at all. The old-fashioned sea-yarns of Captain Marryat ring true as far as they go, but they do not go far enough.

In England the great frigates were generally both under-manned and badly victualled, and the cruises were long and sickening. The practice of medicine had not reached the dignity of the precise science it is to-day, and the surgeon's appliances were rude and roughly manipulated.

Anaesthetics were unknown, and after the battles, the slaughter in which was sometimes terrific, many a poor chap was sent to his last account by unwise amputation or bad treatment after the operation.

The water frequently became putrid, and this, with the lack of fresh vegetables and the over use of pork, brought on the disease called scurvy, which oftentimes wiped out entire crews in its deadly ravages. Every year thousands of men were carried off by it. A far greater number died from the effects of scurvy than from the enemy's fire. Lieutenant Kelly says that during the Seven Years' War but one thousand five hundred and twelve seamen and marines were killed, but one hundred and thirty-three thousand died of disease or were reported missing. Not until the beginning of this century was this dreadful evil ameliorated.

The evils of impressment and the work of the crimp and his gang--so infamous in England--had no great vogue here, for the reason that, during our wars of 1776 and 1812, the good seamen--coasters and fishermen, who had suffered most from the Lion--were only too anxious to find a berth on an American man-of-war, where they could do yeoman's service against their cruel oppressor.

"Keel-hauling" and the "cat" were relics of the barbarism of the old English navy. Keel-hauling was an extreme punishment, for the unfortunate rarely, if ever, survived the ordeal. In brief, it consisted in sending the poor sailor-man on a voyage of discovery along the keel of the vessel.

Trussed like a fowl, he was lowered over the bows of the ship and hauled along underneath her until he made his appearance at the stern, half or wholly drowned, and terribly cut all over the body by the sea-growth on the ship's bottom. He bled in every part from the cuts of the barnacles; but "this was considered rather advantageous than otherwise, as the loss of blood restored the patient, if he were not quite drowned, and the consequence was that one out of three, it is said, have been known to recover from their enforced submarine excursion."

Think of it! Recovery was not antic.i.p.ated, but if the victim got well, the officer in command made no objection! Beside the brutality of these old English navy bullies a barbarous Hottentot chief would be an angel of mercy.

Flogging and the use of the cat were abolished in the American navy in 1805. This law meant the use of the cat-o'-nine tails as a regular punishment, but did not prohibit blows to enforce immediate obedience.

Before that time it was a common practice for the punishment of minor offences as well as the more serious ones.

Flogging in the old days was an affair of much ceremony on board men-of-war. The entire ship's company was piped on deck for the punishment, and the culprit, stripped to the waist, was brought to the mast. The boatswain's mate, cat in hand, stood by the side of a suspended grating in the gangway, and the captain, officer of the deck, and the surgeon took their posts opposite him. The offence and the sentence were then read, and the stripes were administered on the bare back of the offender, a petty officer standing by to count the blows of the lash, while the doctor, with his hand on the victim's pulse, was ready to give the danger signal when absolutely necessary.

The men bore it in different ways. The old hands gritted their teeth philosophically, but the younger men frequently shrieked in their agony as the pitiless lash wound itself around the tender flesh, raising at first livid red welts, and afterwards lacerating the flesh and tearing the back into b.l.o.o.d.y seams.

The effect upon the lookers-on was varied. The younger officers, newly come from well-ordered English homes, frequently fainted at the sight.

But the horror of the spectacle soon died away, and before many weeks had pa.s.sed, with hardened looks, they stood on the quarter-deck and watched the performance amusedly. Soon the spectacle got to be a part of their life, and the jokes were many and the laughter loud at the victim's expense. The greater the suffering the more pleasurable the excitement.

Many yarns are spun of Jack's tricks to avoid the lash or to reduce to a minimum the pain of the blows. Sometimes the men had their flogging served to them regularly, but in small doses. To these the punishment lost its rigor. For the boatswain's mate not infrequently disguised the force of his blows, which came lightly enough, though the victim bawled vigorously to keep up the deception, and in the "three- and four-dozen" cases he sometimes tempered his blows to the physical condition of the sufferers, who otherwise would have swooned with the pain.