Soon the _Intrepid_ came near the frigate. Only twelve men were visible on her deck. The others were lying flat in the shadow on the bulwarks, each with cutla.s.s tightly clutched in hand.

"What vessel is that?" was asked in Moorish words from the frigate.

"The _Mastico_, from Malta," answered the pilot in the same tongue. "We lost our anchors in the gale and were nearly wrecked. Can we ride by your ship for the night?"

The permission asked was granted, and a boat from the _Intrepid_ made a line fast to the frigate, while the men on the latter threw a line aboard. The ropes were pa.s.sed to the hidden men on the deck, who pulled on them l.u.s.tily.

As the little craft came up, the men on the frigate saw her anchors hanging in place.

"You have lied to us!" came a sharp hail. "Keep off! Cut those lines!"

Others had seen the concealed men, and the cry of "Americanos!" was raised.

The alarm came too late. The little craft was now close up and a hearty pull brought her against the hull of the large ship.

"Boarders away!" came the stirring order.

"Follow me, lads," cried Decatur, springing for the chain-plates of the frigate. Men and officers were after him hot-foot. Midshipman Charles Morris was the first to reach the deck, with Decatur close behind.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DECATUR AT TRIPOLI.]

The surprise was complete. There was no resistance. Few of the Moors had weapons, and they fled from the Americans like frightened sheep. On all sides the splashing of water could be heard as they leaped overboard. In a few minutes they were all gone and Decatur and his men were masters of the ship.

They would have given much to be able to take the n.o.ble frigate out of the harbor. But that could not be done, and every minute made their danger greater. All they could do was to set her on fire and retreat with all speed.

Not a moment was lost. Quick-burning material was brought from the _Intrepid_, put in good places, and set on fire. So rapidly did the flames spread that the men who were lighting fires on the lower decks had scarcely time to escape from the fast-spreading conflagration.

Flames poured from the port-holes, and sparks fell on the deck of the smaller vessel. If it should touch the powder that was stored amidships, death would come to them all. With nervous haste they cut the ropes, and the _Intrepid_ was pushed off. Then the sweeps were thrust out and the little craft rowed away.

"Now, lads, give them three good cheers," cried Decatur.

Up sprang the jack-tars, and three ringing cheers were given, sounding above the roar of the flames and of the cannon that were now playing on the little vessel from the batteries and gunboats. Then to their sweeps went the tars again, and drove their vessel every minute farther away.

As they went they saw the flames catch the rigging and run up the masts of the doomed frigate. Then great bursts of flame shot out from the open hatchways. The loaded guns went off one after another, some of them firing into the town. It was a lurid and striking spectacle, such as is seldom seen.

Bainbridge and his fellow-officers saw the flames from their prison window and hailed them with l.u.s.ty cheers. The officers of the _Siren_ saw them also, and sent their boats into the harbor to aid the fugitives, if necessary. But it was not necessary. Not a man had been hurt. In an hour after the flames were seen, Decatur and his daring crew came in triumph out of the bay of Tripoli.

Never had been known a more perfect and successful naval exploit. All Europe talked of it with admiration when the news was received. Lord Nelson, the greatest of England's sailors, said, "It was the boldest and most daring act of the ages." When the tidings reached the United States, Decatur, young as he was, was rewarded by Congress with the t.i.tle of captain.

We are not yet done with the _Intrepid_, in which Decatur played so brilliant a part. She was tried again in work of the same kind, but with a more tragic end.

A room was built in her and filled with powder, shot, and sh.e.l.ls.

Combustibles of various kinds were piled around it, so that it could not fail to go off, if set on fire. Then, one dark night, the fire-ship was sent into the harbor of Tripoli, with a picked crew under another gallant young officer, Lieutenant Richard Somers.

They were told to take it into the midst of the Moorish squadron, set it on fire and escape in their boats. It was expected to blow up and rend to atoms the war vessels of Tripoli.

But the forts and ships began to fire on it, and before it reached its goal a frightful disaster occurred. Suddenly a great jet of fire was seen to shoot up into the sky. Then came a roar like that of a volcano.

The distant spectators saw the mast of the _Intrepid_, with blazing sail, flung like a rocket into the air. Bombs flew in all directions.

Then all grew dark and still.

In some way the magazine had been exploded, perhaps by a shot from the enemy. Nothing was ever seen again of Somers and his men. It was the great tragedy of the war. They had all perished in that fearful explosion.

Now let us turn back to the story of Decatur, of whom we have some more famous work to tell.

In August, 1804, the American fleet entered the harbor of Tripoli and made a daring attack on the fleet, the batteries, and the city of the Bashaw. In addition to the war vessels of the fleet, there were six gunboats and two bomb vessels, all pouring shot and sh.e.l.l into the city which had so long defied them.

The batteries on sh.o.r.e returned the fire, and the gunboats of the Bashaw advanced to the attack. On these the fleet now turned its fire, sweeping their decks with grape and canister shot. Decatur, with three gunboats, advanced on the eastern division of the Moorish gunboats, nine in all.

Decatur, you will see, was outnumbered three to one, but he did not stop for odds like that. He dashed boldly in, laid his vessel alongside the nearest gunboat of the enemy, poured in a volley, and gave the order to board. In an instant the Americans were over the bulwarks and on the foe.

The contest was short and sharp. The captain of the Tripolitans fell dead. Most of his officers were wounded. The men, overcome by the fierce attack, soon threw down their arms and begged for quarter. Decatur secured them below decks and started for the next gunboat.

On his way he was hailed from one of his own boats, which had been commanded by his brother James. The men told him that his brother had captured one of the gunboats of the enemy, but, on going on board after her flag had fallen, he had been shot dead by the treacherous commander.

The murderer had then driven the Americans back and carried his boat out of the fight.

On hearing this sad news, Decatur was filled with grief and rage. Bent on revenge, he turned his boat's prow and swiftly sped towards the craft of the a.s.sa.s.sin. The instant the two boats came together the furious Decatur sprang upon the deck of the enemy. At his back came Lieutenant McDonough and nine st.u.r.dy sailors. Nearly forty of the Moors faced them, at their head a man of gigantic size, his face half covered with a thick black beard, a scarlet cap on his head, the true type of a pirate captain.

Sure that this was his brother's murderer, Decatur rushed fiercely at the giant Moor. The latter thrust at him with a heavy boarding pike.

Decatur parried the blow, and made a fierce stroke at the weapon, hoping to cut off its point.

He failed in this and his cutla.s.s broke off at the hilt, leaving him with empty hands. With a l.u.s.ty yell the Moor thrust again. Decatur bent aside, so that he received only a slight wound. Then he seized the weapon, wrested it from the hands of the Moor, and thrust fiercely at him.

In an instant more the two enemies had clinched in a wrestle for life and death, and fell struggling to the deck. While they lay there, one of the Tripolitan officers raised his scimitar and aimed a deadly blow at the head of Decatur.

It seemed now as if nothing could save the struggling American. Only one of his men was near by. This was a sailor named Reuben James, who had been wounded in both arms. But he was a man of n.o.ble heart. He could not lift a hand to save his captain, but his head was free, and with a sublime devotion he thrust it in the way of the descending weapon.

Down it came with a terrible blow on his head, and he fell bleeding to the deck, but before the Tripolitan could lift his weapon again to strike Decatur, a pistol shot laid him low.

Decatur was left to fight it out with the giant Moor. With one hand the huge wrestler held him tightly and with the other he drew a dagger from his belt. The fatal moment had arrived. Decatur caught the Moor's wrist just as the blow was about to fall, and at the same instant pressed against his side a small pistol he had drawn from his pocket.

A touch of the trigger, a sharp report, and the body of the giant relaxed. The bullet had pierced him through and he fell back dead.

Flinging off the heavy weight, Decatur rose to his feet.

Meanwhile his few men had been fiercely fighting the Tripolitan crew.

Greatly as they outnumbered the Americans, the Moors had been driven back. They lost heart on seeing their leader fall and threw down their arms.

Another gunboat was captured and then the battle ended. The attack on Tripoli had proved a failure and the fleet drew off.

I know you will ask what became of brave Reuben James, who offered his life for his captain. Was he killed? No, I am glad to say he was not. He had an ugly cut, but he was soon well again.

One day Decatur asked him what reward he should give him for saving his life. The worthy sailor did not know what to say. He scratched his head and looked puzzled.

"Ask him for double pay, Rube," suggested one of his shipmates.

"A pocket full of dollars and sh.o.r.e leave," whispered another.