The lifeless body of Capt. Drew, his jaunty uniform and gold epaulets entwined with seaweed, but scarcely marred by rock or sand shore, was found cast up on the beach, cold and rigid in death, his handsome features proud and exultant even in death, his curly brown hair streaming over the high collar of uniform coat, and his dark eyes wide open, staring fixedly at the lowering heavens.
On the extreme point of Henlopen, after a heavy gale has been raging and a fierce sea rolling in and thundering along the beach, fragments and debris of wreckage have often been cast up by the action of the waves, and it is current rumor in that vicinity that more than one individual who now ranks as a leading and influential man owes success and prominence to James Drew’s misfortune and the treasure washed out by the sea from amid the sodden timbers of the ill-fated De Brock. The wreck of that vessel is but one instance in a long list of similar disasters.
At the close of the Revolution, a brig laden with specie was wrecked in close proximity to the cape, and was followed soon after by a huge Spanish treasure ship, her hold well ballasted with pieces of eight and stamped bars of the precious metal. Another Spanish bark laden with the choicest treasures from the land of the Incas came to grief on the treacherous shoals one dark and stormy night, but three escaping to tell the tale of horror.
BURNING OF THE FRIGATE PHILADELPHIA IN THE HARBOR OF TRIPOLI BY STEPHEN DECATUR.
Among the exploits of our sailors there is one which for daring is almost unparalleled in the history of naval warfare. It was a desperate undertaking, and had the enterprise failed those who undertook it would probably have been laughed at as foolhardy, but its success justified the daring of the little band of heroes and brought not only fame, but reward to all concerned.
The story of the Barbary pirates and their former control of the Mediterranean is too well known to need repeating. Such was once the power of the petty states which bordered the southern shore of the Mediterranean that they levied blackmail on every maritime nation of the world. No ship entered or left the Mediterranean without paying tribute to the Moors. The Deys of Algiers, of Tunis, of Tripoli, became immensely wealthy through the contributions they levied on Christian vessels and the tributes paid by Christian States for immunity from piracy. The United States was one of the nations which officially helped to fill the coffers of these barbarian chieftains, but even the tribute which was paid did not secure immunity, and in the early years of this century it was perceived that something must be done by the government to protect United States commerce in that quarter of the world. Then came the war with the Algerian States, a conflict entirely on the sea, for the distance, of course, was too great for an army to be sent from this country, and the war practically amounted to a blockade of the ports and the capture of such corsairs as attempted to enter or leave.
In the autumn of 1803, the Philadelphia, a frigate of thirty-six guns, in those days a man-of-war of the first class, was blockading the harbor of Tripoli. A storm came on, the ship was driven to sea, and on returning after the wind had lulled noticed a brigantine endeavoring to steal into the port. The Philadelphia gave chase and pursued the corsair close into the shore and within three miles of the guns of the forts. Capt. Bainbridge, of the Philadelphia, expressed his uneasiness at running so close to the shore, but the sailing-master professed an intimate acquaintance with the neighborhood, having been there before, and the pursuit was continued. Bainbridge did not know that he was among reefs, but without a moment’s notice the ship grounded with such violence that many of the men were thrown down on the deck. As soon as the corsairs perceived that the ship was fast they sallied out from Tripoli to attack the vessel, and during the day of October 31 the fight was kept up while ineffectual efforts were being made to get off the ship by cutting away the foremast and throwing overboard all the forward guns, but toward evening Bainbridge, recognizing the inevitable, and fearing lest when night came on the ship might be boarded and all on board massacred by the pirates, he scuttled the ship and surrendered the vessel.
The pirates swarmed on board, ordered the prisoners, 315 in number, including twenty-one officers, into their boats and took them to shore. Day, the American poet, who was one of the crew, thus describes an experience as the captive of the Moors: “When we approached the shore, we were thrown headlong into the waves, foaming from a high breeze, where the water was up to our arm-pits, and left to strangle, or get ashore as we could. At the beach stood a row of armed janizaries, through which we passed, amidst cursings and spittings, to the castle gate. It opened and we ascended a narrow, winding, dismal passage, which led into a paved avenue lined with grizzly guards, armed with sabres, muskets, pistols, and hatchets. Here we halted again a few moments, and were again hurried on through various turnings and flights of stairs, until we found ourselves in the presence of his majesty, the puissant Bashaw of Tripoli.
“The throne on which he was seated was raised about 4 feet from the surface, inlaid with mosaic, covered with a cushion of the richest velvet, fringed with gold, bespangled with brilliants. The floor of the hall was of variegated marble, spread with carpets of the most beautiful kind. The person of the Grand Bashaw made a very tawdry appearance. His clothing was a long robe of blue silk, embroidered with gold. His broad belt, ornamented with diamonds, held two gold-mounted pistols and a sabre with a golden scabbard, hilt and chains. On his head he wore a large white turban, decorated in the richest manner. His whole vestments were superb in the extreme. His dark beard swept his breast. I should suppose him to be about 40, is rather corpulent, 5 feet 10 inches in height, and of a manly, majestic deportment.
“When he had satisfied his pride and curiosity, the guard conducted us into a dreary and filthy apartment of the castle, where there was scarcely room for us to turn round and where we were kept for nearly two hours, shivering in our wet clothes and with the chills of a very damp night. The Neapolitan slaves, of whom the Bashaw had more than 150, brought us dry clothing to exchange for our wet, and we sincerely thanked them for their apparent kindness, expecting to receive ours again when dry; but the trickish scoundrels never returned our clothes nor made us any restitution. Our clothing was new, and what they brought us in exchange was old and ragged.”