The Tripolitan boat was divided amidships by an open hatchway, and for a moment the opposing forces stopped to catch their breath, glaring at one another across the opening. Decatur did not pause long. Giving them a volley of pistol-bullets at close range, he dashed furiously down one gangway, while Macdonough and Thorn went down the other, and, with a cheer, cut down the remaining Turks or drove them overboard. A half-dozen went down a forward hatch, and these were made prisoners.

It was a short fight, with an inconsiderable loss to Decatur, but the Tripolitan dead were strewn all over the decks, and the Turkish captain was pierced by fourteen bullets. The Tripolitan flag was hauled down, and, taking his prize in tow, Decatur put his men at the sweeps again, to move farther out of the reach of the batteries.

By this time James Decatur and John Trippe had got into the thick of it.

Following Stephen Decatur's example, they dashed boldly at the larger of the bashaw's vessels, and, reserving their fire for close range, they lay two of them aboard. John Trippe, Midshipman Henley, and nine seamen had gained the deck of their adversary, when the vessels drifted apart, and they were left alone on the deck of the enemy. But Trippe was the man for the emergency. So rapidly did they charge the Turks that their very audacity gave them the advantage, and Trippe finally succeeded in killing the Tripolitan commander by running him through with a boarding-pike. They fought with the energy of despair, and, although wounded and bleeding from a dozen sabre-cuts, struggled on until their gunboat got alongside and they were rescued by their comrades.

But the story of the treachery of the Turkish captain and Stephen Decatur's revenge for the death of his brother makes even the wonderful defensive battle of Trippe seem small by comparison.

James Decatur, having got well up with one of the largest of the Tripolitan vessels, delivered so quick and telling a fire with his long gun and musketry that the enemy immediately struck his colors. He hauled alongside and clambered up and over the side of the gunboat to take possession of her personally. As his head came up above the rail his men saw the Turkish commander rush forward and aim his boarding-pistol at the defenceless American. The bullet struck him fairly in the forehead, and Decatur, with barely a sound, sank back into his boat.

In their horror at the treachery of the Tripolitan, the Americans allowed the boat to sheer off, and the Turk, getting out his sweeps, was soon speeding away toward the protection of the batteries.

Stephen Decatur, towing his prize to safety, had noted the gallant attack, and had seen the striking of the Turkish colors. But not until an American boat darted alongside of him did he hear the news of the treacherous manner of his brother's death. The shock of the information for the moment appalled him, but in the place of his grief there arose so fierce a rage at the dastardly act that for a moment he was stricken dumb and senseless.

His men sprang quickly when at last he thundered out his orders. Deftly casting off the tow-line of the prize, they hoisted all sail and jumped to their sweeps as though their lives depended on it. Macdonough's gun-crew were loading with solid shot this time, and, as soon as they got the range, a ball went screaming down towards the fleeing Tripolitan. The men at the sweeps needed little encouragement. They had heard the news, and they loved James Decatur as they worshipped his brother, who stood aft, his lips compressed, anxiously watching the chase. The water boiled under the oar-blades as the clumsy hulk seemed to spring from one wave-crest to another. Again the long gun spoke, and the canister struck the water all about the Turkish vessel. The Tripolitans seemed disorganized, for their oars no longer moved together and the blades were splashing wildly. Another solid shot went flying, and Decatur smiled as he saw the spray fly up under the enemy's counter. There would be no mercy for the Tripolitans that day. Nearer and nearer they came, until the Turks, seeing that further attempts at flight were useless, dropped their sweeps and prepared to receive the Americans. They shifted their helm so that their gun could bear, and the shot that followed tore a great rent in Decatur's foresail. But the Americans heeded it little more than if it had been a puff of wind, and pausing only to deliver another deadly discharge of the musket-b.a.l.l.s at point-blank range, Decatur swung in alongside under cover of the smoke.

As the vessels grated together, Decatur jumped for the Tripolitan rigging, and, followed by his men, quickly gained the deck. Two Turks rushed at Decatur, aiming vicious blows with their scimetars; but he parried them skilfully with his pike, looking around him fiercely the while for the captain. As he thought of his brother dying, or dead, he swore that no American should engage the Turkish commander but himself. He had not long to wait. They espied each other at about the same moment, and brushing the intervening weapons aside, dashed upon each other furiously.

Decatur was tall, and as active as a cat. His muscles were like steel, and his rage seemed to give him the strength of a dozen. But the Mussulman was a giant, the biggest man in the Tripolitan fleet, and a very demon in power and viciousness. So strong was he, that as Decatur lunged at him with his boarding-pike he succeeded in wrenching it from the hand of the American, and so wonderfully quick that Decatur had hardly time to raise his cutla.s.s to parry the return. He barely caught it; but in doing so his weapon broke off short at the hilt. The next lunge he partially warded by stepping to one side; but the pike of the Mussulman in pa.s.sing cut an ugly wound in his arm and chest. Entirely defenceless, he now knew that his only chance was at close quarters, so he sprang in below the guard of the Turk and seized him around the waist, hoping to trip and stun him. But the Tripolitan tore the arms away as though he had been a stripling, and, seizing him by the throat, bore him by sheer weight to the deck, trying the while to draw a yataghan. The American crew, seeing things going badly with their young captain, fought in furiously, and in a moment the ma.s.s of Americans and Tripolitans were fighting in one desperate, struggling, smothering heap, above the prostrate bodies of their captains, neither of whom could succeed in drawing a weapon. The Turk was the first to get his dagger loose, but the American's death-like grasp held his wrist like a vise, and kept him from striking the blow. Decatur saw another Turk just beside him raise his yataghan high above his head, and he felt that he was lost. But at this moment a sailor, named Reuben James, who loved Decatur as though he were a brother, closed in quickly and caught on his own head the blow intended for Decatur. Both his arms had been disabled, but he asked nothing better than to lay down his life for his captain.

In the meanwhile, without relinquishing his grip upon the Turk, Decatur succeeded in drawing a pistol from the breast of his shirt, and, pressing the muzzle near the heart of the Tripolitan, fired. As the muscles of his adversary relaxed, the American managed to get upon one knee, and so to his feet, stunned and bleeding, but still unsubdued. The Tripolitans, disheartened by the loss of their leader, broke ground before the force of the next attack and fled overboard or were cut down where they stood.

The death of James Decatur was avenged.

The other Tripolitan gunboats had scurried back to safety, so Decatur, with his two prizes, made his way out towards the flagship unmolested. His victory had cost him dearly. There was not a man who had not two or three wounds from the scimetars, and some of them had cuts all over the body.

The decks were like a slaughter-pen and the scuppers were running blood.

But the bodies of the Tripolitans were ruthlessly cast overboard to the sharks; and by the time the Americans had reached the "Const.i.tution" the decks had been scrubbed down and the wounded bandaged and roughly cared for by those of their comrades who had fared less badly.

Decatur, by virtue of his exploit in destroying the "Philadelphia,"

already a post-captain at the age of twenty-five, could expect no further immediate honors at the hands of the government; but then, as ever afterwards, he craved nothing but a stanch ship and a gallant crew. The service he could do his country was its own reward.

A DOUBLE ENCOUNTER

The old "Const.i.tution" was out on the broad ocean again! And when the news went forth that she had succeeded for the seventh time in running the blockade of the British squadrons, deep was the chagrin of the Admiralty. This Yankee frigate, still stanch and undefeated, had again and again proved herself superior to everything afloat that was British; had shown her heels, under Hull's masterly seamanship, to a whole squadron during a chase that lasted three days; and had under Hull, and then under Bainbridge, whipped both the "Guerriere" and the "Java," two of their tidiest frigates, in an incredibly short time, with a trifling loss both in men and rigging. She was invincible; and the t.i.tle which she had gained before Tripoli, under Commodore Preble, when the Mussulman shot had hailed against her oaken timbers and dropped harmlessly into the sea alongside, seemed more than ever to befit her. "Old Ironsides" was abroad again, overhauled from royal to locker, with a crew of picked seamen and a captain who had the confidence of the navy and the nation.

Her hull had been made new, her canvas had come direct from the sail-lofts at Boston, and her spars were the stanchest that the American forests could afford. She carried thirty-one long 24-pounders and twenty short 32-pounders,--fifty-one guns in all, throwing six hundred and forty-four pounds of actual weight of metal to a broadside. Her officers knew her sailing qualities, and she was ballasted to a nicety, bowling along in a top-gallant-stu'n-sail breeze at twelve knots an hour.

The long list of her victories over their old-time foe had given her men a confidence in the ship and themselves that attained almost the measure of a faith; and, had the occasion presented itself, they would have been as willing to match broadsides with a British seventy-four as with a frigate of equal metal with themselves. They were a fine, hearty lot, these jack-tars; and, as "Old Ironsides" left the green seas behind and ploughed her bluff nose boldly through the darker surges of the broad Atlantic, they vowed that the frigate's last action would not be her least. The "Const.i.tution" would not be dreaded by the British in vain.

For dreaded she was among the officers of the British North Atlantic squadron. As soon as it was discovered by the British Admiralty that she had pa.s.sed the blockade, instructions were at once given out and pa.s.sed from ship to ship to the end that every vessel of whatever cla.s.s which spoke another on the high seas should report whether or not she had seen a vessel which looked like the "Const.i.tution." By means of this ocean telegraphy they hoped to discover the course and intention of the great American, and finally to succeed in bringing her into action with a British fleet. By this time they had learned their lesson. Single frigates were given orders to avoid an encounter, while other frigates were directed to hunt for her in pairs!

Charles Stewart had been one of old Preble's "school-boy captains" before Tripoli, the second in command. He had been one to suggest the expedition to cut out or destroy the "Philadelphia," the envied command of which fell to Decatur. But he won distinction enough before the batteries there, and afterwards when he captured the French "Experiment," of a much heavier force and armament than his own, in a brilliant little action. He had entered the merchant service at thirteen, had been captain of a ship in the India trade at nineteen, and thus from his boyhood had been schooled in the finer points of rough-and-ready seamanship.

He was born in Philadelphia, in 1778, at a time when the blood of patriotism ran hot in the veins of the mothers as well as of the fathers of the race, and he then imbibed the principles he afterwards stood for so valiantly on sea and on land. On the frigate "United States," that "nursery of heroes," he had for mess-mates Stephen Decatur and Richard Somers; and Edward Preble gave him ideas of discipline that later stood him in good stead. He was, like Decatur, of an impetuous disposition; but he had learned what quick obedience meant to the service, and among the men on the "Const.i.tution" it was known that infractions of duty would be quickly punished. The men tumbled quickly to the gear and handled the guns so smartly that with his picked seamen Stewart had not been out of sight of land a week before they attained a proficiency in manuvre rarely surpa.s.sed on a man-of-war. It is related that once, having received an order from a superior officer to sail with his ship immediately, Stewart got under weigh, towing behind him his mainmast, which he had not had the opportunity to step.

Stewart was, of course, aware of the orders which had been issued by the Admiralty, but with his ship in fine condition and provisioned for a long cruise he feared nothing that floated, whether one ship or two. In fact, just before leaving his young wife in Boston he had asked her what he should bring her home.

"A British frigate," said she, patriotically.

"I will bring you two of them," he said, smiling.

Stewart sailed to the southward, in the hope of falling in with some vessels in the India trade. For two months, in spite of their fitness, the men were daily exercised in all weathers at evolutions with the sails and great guns, and part of the day was given to cutla.s.s-work and pistol-practice. No emergency drill was overlooked, and from reefing topsails to sending up spare spars or setting stu'n-sails they moved like the co-ordinated parts of a great machine. But one prize having been taken, however, Stewart set his course for the coast of Europe, to seek the lion, like Paul Jones, on his own cruising ground.

On February 18, 1815, just two months after leaving Boston, the "Const.i.tution," being then near the Portuguese coast, sighted a large sail, and immediately squared away in pursuit. But hardly were they set on their new course before another sail hove up to leeward, and Stewart quickly made down for her. Overhauling her shortly, she was discovered to be the British merchant ship "Susan," which he seized as a prize and sent back to Boston. Meanwhile the other sail, which afterwards proved to be the "Elizabeth," 74, had disappeared.

The following day the "Const.i.tution" was holding a course to the southward from the coast of Spain toward Madeira. A group of her officers stood upon her quarter-deck, watching the scud flying to leeward. They were rather a discontented lot. They had been to sea two months, and beyond a few merchant prizes they had nothing to show for their cruise. It was not like the luck of "Old Ironsides." What they craved was action to put a confirmatory test to the metal they were so sure of. The fo'c's'le was grumbling, too; and the men who had been in her when she fought the "Guerriere" and the "Java" could no longer in safety boast of the glory of those combats.

Had they but known it, the "Elizabeth," 74, and the "Tiber," 38, in command of Captain Dacres, who had lost the "Guerriere," were but a few hours astern of them; and the "Leander," 50, the "Newcastle," 50, and the "Acasta," 40, whom they had so skilfully eluded at Boston, were dashing along from the westward in pursuit. The seas to the eastward, too, were swarming with other frigates (in couples), who were seeking her no less anxiously than she was seeking them.

Stewart was not so easily disheartened as his officers. He knew that the "Const.i.tution" was in the very midst of the ships of the enemy. Had he not known it he would not have been there. He came on deck during the afternoon in a high good humor. He was a believer in presentiments, and said, jovially,--

"The luck of the 'Const.i.tution' isn't going to fail her this time, gentlemen. I a.s.sure you that before the sun rises and sets again you will be engaged in battle with the enemy, and it will not be with a single ship."

The morning of the next day dawned thick and cloudy. Though well to the southward, the air was cold and damp. The wind was blowing sharply from the northeast, and the choppy seas sent their gray crests pettishly or angrily upward, where they split into foam and were carried down to mingle with the blur of the fog to leeward. Occasionally, in the wind-squalls, the rain pattered like hail against the bellying canvas and ran down into the lee-clews, where it was caught as it fell and whipped out into the sea beyond.

Two or three officers paced the quarter-deck, looking now and then aloft or to windward to see if the weather were clearing. Saving these, the fellows at the wheel, and the watch on deck, all hands were below on the gun-deck, polishing their arms or loitering in the warmth near the galley, where the cooks were preparing the mid-day meal.

During the morning watch, Stewart, for some reason which he was unable to give, save an unaccountable impulse, changed the course and sent the ship down sixty miles to the southwest. Shortly after noon the fog fell lower, and so thinned out at the mast-head that the lookout on the topsail-yard could soon see along its upper surface. At about one o'clock the welcome sound of "Sail, ho!" came echoing down through the open hatchways. While ordinarily the sighting of a sail so near the coast has no great significance, Stewart's prediction of a battle had aroused the men to a fever of impatience; and when they knew that a large sail, apparently a frigate, had been raised and that the fog was lifting, the watch below dropped their kits and tools and tumbled up on deck to have a glimpse of the stranger. Here and there wider rifts appeared in the fog-banks, and the midshipman of the watch, who climbed with a gla.s.s into the foretop, soon made her out to be a frigate bearing about two points on the port-bow.

Stewart came up from below and immediately crowded on top-gallant-sails and royals in pursuit. Before long the weather had cleared, so that they could make out the horizon to windward, and from the deck could dimly discern the hazy ma.s.s of the chase as she hung on the lee-bow, apparently motionless. In less than an hour the man at the mast-head reported another sail ahead of the first one, and noted that signals were being exchanged between them.

It was now almost a certainty that the vessels were those of the enemy.

Forward the men were slapping one another on the back, and rough jokes and laughter resounded from the gun-deck, where the boys and stewards were clearing away the mess-dishes and stowing away all gear, in preparation for a possible action. On the quarter-deck wagers were freely offered on the character of the vessels, which looked to be frigates of 50 and 38.

Stewart glanced aloft at the straining spars and smiled confidently.

By this time the nearer frigate bore down within the range of the gla.s.ses, and they could see that she was painted with double yellow lines, and apparently cut for fifty guns. As it afterwards appeared, she had a double gun-streak, false ports having been painted in her waist.

Lieutenant Ballard, who had been carefully examining her with his gla.s.ses, remarked to the captain, who stood at his elbow, that she must at least be a fifty-gun ship. Stewart, after a long look, suggested that she was too small to be a ship of that cla.s.s. "However," he continued, "be this as it may, you know I have promised you a fight before the setting of to-morrow's sun; and if we do not take it, now that it is offered, we may not have another chance. We must flog them when we catch them, whether she has one gun-deck or two."

Signals were now constantly interchanged between the vessels, and by three o'clock the "Const.i.tution" had come so near that they were plainly made out to be two small frigates, or a frigate and a sloop-of-war, both close hauled on the starboard tack. The "Const.i.tution," having the windward gauge, now manuvred more carefully, and, hauling her sheets flat aft, pointed up so as to keep the advantage of position.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NO 'DUTCH COURAGE' ON _THIS_ SHIP"]

As the vessels came nearer and an action became certain, the stewards came on deck with the grog-buckets, in accordance with the time-honored rule on men-of-war by which the liquor is served before a fight. Instructions had been given that, as the battle was to be with two ships, a double portion of the drink should be served. But just as the stewards were about to ladle it out an old quartermaster rolled down from forward, and saying, "We don't want any 'Dutch courage' on _this_ ship," with a great kick sent the bucket and its contents flying into the scuppers.

About four o'clock the westernmost ship signalled her consort and bore down to leeward to join her. The "Const.i.tution" now set her stu'n-sails and went bearing down after them at a strain that seemed to menace her spars. She was rapidly drawing up with them when, just as she got well within range of the long guns, there was a sharp crack far aloft and the royal-mast snapped off at the cap. It was a doubtful moment, for the Englishmen crowded on all sail to escape, and rapidly drew together, flinging out their English ensigns as though in triumph.

But they did not reckon on the superb seamanship of the "Const.i.tution." In a trice the men were aloft with their axes, the wreck was cleared away, new gear was rove, and in half an hour a new mast was aloft and another royal was spread to the breeze.

But the ships had been enabled to close with each other, and Stewart had lost the opportunity of attacking them separately. They made one ineffectual effort to get the weather-gauge, but, finding that the "Const.i.tution" outpointed them, they settled back in line of battle and cleared ship for action. Stewart immediately showed his colors and beat to quarters.

The fog had blown away and the sun had set behind a lowering bank of clouds. The wind still blew briskly, but the "Const.i.tution" only pitched slightly, and offered a fairly steady platform for the guns, which were now trained upon the nearest vessel, but a few hundred yards broad off the port-bow. The darkness fell rapidly, and the moon came out from behind the fast-flying cloud-bank and silvered the winter twilight, gleaming fitfully on the restless water, a soft reproach upon the b.l.o.o.d.y work that was to follow.

At a few moments past six the long guns of the "Const.i.tution's"

port-battery opened fire, and the battle was on. Both ships responded quickly to the fire, and for fifteen minutes the firing was so rapid that there was not a second's pause between the reverberations. The English crews cheered loudly. But the gunners of the "Const.i.tution" went on grimly with their work, sponging and loading as though at target-practice, content to hear the splintering of the timbers of the nearest vessel as the double-shotted thirty-twos went crashing into her. Before long the smoke became so thick that the gunners could not see their adversaries; and Stewart, ordering the batteries to cease firing, drew ahead and ranged abeam of the foremost ship, with his port-battery reloaded and double-shotted. He waited until he was well alongside before giving the order to fire, when he delivered such a terrible hail of round-shot, grape, and canister that the enemy staggered and halted like an animal mortally wounded. For the moment her battery was entirely silenced, and during the lull they could hear the cries of the wounded as they were carried below to the c.o.c.kpit. The English cheered no longer. Another such a broadside might have finished her; but before Stewart could repeat it he saw that the other ship was luffing up so as to take a raking position under the stern of the "Const.i.tution."