American Men of Action

by Burton Egbert Stevenson

Closely associated with Decatur in some of his exploits was William Bainbridge, as handsome, impetuous and daring a sailor as ever trod a deck. Bainbridge, who was five years younger than Decatur, began his seafaring career at the age of sixteen, and three years later was in command of a merchantman. He entered the navy at its reorganization in 1798, and two years later was appointed to command the George Washington, a ship of twenty-eight guns.

Bainbridge's first duty was to carry a tribute of half a million dollars to the Dey of Algiers, according to the arrangement made by the Secretary of State which we have already mentioned. The errand was a hateful one to Bainbridge, as it would have been to any American sailorman; but he was in the navy to obey orders, and in September, 1800, he reached Algiers and anchored in the harbor and delivered the tribute. But when he had done this, the Dey sent word that he had a cargo of slaves and wild beasts for the Sultan of Turkey at Constantinople, and that Bainbridge must take them, or his ship would be taken from him and he and his crew sold into slavery.

There was nothing to do but consent, since the ship was wholly in the Dey's power, so to Constantinople Bainbridge sailed her. When a boat was sent ashore there to announce her arrival, the Turks were greatly astonished, for they had never heard of a nation called the United States, and did not know that there was a great continent on the other side of the world. It makes us feel less self-important, sometimes, when we stop to consider that about one half the human race, even at the present day, have no idea of our existence.

Well, Bainbridge delivered his cargo, and then sailed back to Algiers with orders from the Sultan to the Dey. He delivered these to the Dey, and in accordance with them, the Dey immediately declared war on France, and notified all the French in Algiers that if they had not left his dominions within forty-eight hours, they would be sold into slavery. There was no French ship in the harbor, and it looked, for a time, as though, the French would not be able to get away, but as soon as he learned of their predicament, Bainbridge gathered them together and took them over to Spain—an act for which he received the personal thanks of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Bainbridge was, of course, glad to get away from Algiers, but he had by no means seen the last of the Barbary pirates. Returning to the United States, he was given command of the Philadelphia, and sent back to the Mediterranean with Commodore Preble's squadron to give the pirates a lesson. The Philadelphia went on ahead to Tripoli and began a vigorous blockade of that port, but, in chasing a Tripolitan vessel which was trying to enter the harbor, ran hard and fast on an uncharted reef, and keeled over so far that her guns were useless. The Tripolitans were not long in discovering her predicament, swarmed out of the harbor in their gunboats, and soon had the American vessel at their mercy.

With what bitterness of spirit Bainbridge hauled down his flag may be imagined. He and his men were taken ashore and imprisoned and their vessel was got off the reef and towed into the harbor. From the window of their prison, the Americans could see her riding at anchor, flying the flag of Tripoli, and the sight did not render their imprisonment more pleasant. But one night, they heard shots in the harbor, and, looking out, beheld the Philadelphia in flames, and the little ketch bearing Decatur and his men fading rapidly away through the darkness toward the harbor mouth. Six months later, they watched the American assault upon the harbor, but their hearts fell when the American squadron finally gave up the attempt and withdrew. It was not until the following year that peace was made, and Bainbridge and his men released, after a captivity of nineteen months. Never since that time has the United States paid tribute to any nation.

When the second war with England began, President Madison and his advisers thought it foolhardy to attempt to oppose Great Britain on the ocean, for she had the strongest fleet of any nation in the world, and so decided to confine the war entirely to land. It was Bainbridge who brought about a change of this unwise policy by impassioned pleading, to the everlasting glory of the American navy. Hull resigned the Constitution to him, after his victory over the Guerrière—it was really for fear that Bainbridge would get command of the ship that Hull had sailed from Boston without orders—and Bainbridge sailed for the South Atlantic, and captured the British frigate Java, after a terrific fight, in which he was himself seriously wounded. This was his last fight, though the years which followed saw him in many important commands. For sheer romance and adventure, his career has seldom been excelled.

Another hero of the war of 1812, whose name is associated with a deed of imperishable gallantry, was James Lawrence. He had entered the navy as midshipman in 1798, at the age of eighteen, and served in the war against Tripoli, first under Hull and then under Decatur, and accompanied the latter on the expedition which destroyed the Philadelphia. But the deed by which he is best remembered is his fight with the British frigate Shannon. In the spring of 1813, he was assigned to the command of the frigate Chesapeake, a vessel hated by the whole navy because of the bad luck which seemed to pursue her. Lawrence accepted the command reluctantly, and proceeded to Boston, where she was lying, to prepare her for a voyage.

A crew was secured with great difficulty, most of them being foreigners, and his officers were all young and inexperienced. What the crew and officers alike needed was a practice cruise to put them in shape to meet the enemy, and Lawrence knew this better than anybody, but when the British frigate Shannon appeared outside the harbor with a challenge for a battle, Lawrence, feeling that to refuse would be dishonorable, hoisted anchor and sailed out to meet her.

The Shannon was one of the finest frigates in the English navy, manned by an experienced crew, and commanded by Philip Broke, one of the best officers serving under the Union Jack. The ships ranged up together and broadsides were delivered with terrible effect. Lawrence was wounded in the leg, but kept the deck. Then the ships fouled, and Lawrence called for boarders, but his crew, frightened at the desperate nature of the conflict, did not respond, and a moment later he fell, shot through the body. As he was borne below, he kept shouting, "Don't give up the ship! Fight her till she strikes or sinks! Don't give up the ship!" his voice growing weaker and weaker as his life ebbed away.