Some Stories of Old Ironsides

by Holloway Halstead Frost

For two years we had been at war with the Moslem principalities which lined the Mediterranean coast of Africa. For many years before that, their piratical craft had captured our merchant ships and sold their crews into slavery. We had first begged and then bribed these pirates to desist from piracy. And, finally, after all diplomatic measures had failed, that task was given the Navy. That service had been in existence only a few years. It was, we must confess, not properly prepared to conduct a difficult campaign so far from its home bases. So two years of desultory fighting had accomplished little. In despair, our statesmen had descended again to the artifices of bribery. But, fortunately for us, the piratical chieftains did not think our offers worth their while. So the Navy was given a final chance and Edward Preble the command. The backbone of his squadron were the fine frigates Constitution and Philadelphia. For inshore work there were the brigs Argus and Siren and the schooners Enterprise, Nautilus, and Vixen. It is true that seven ships constituted a small force to keep in good humor Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis and bring to a favorable conclusion the war with Tripoli. But the ships were all finely commanded, well officered, and manned with the best sailors in the world. The ships themselves were well built, adequately equipped, and completely stored for a long campaign. So it was with high hopes that Preble commenced his difficult task—one, it may be added, which had baffled Cardinal Ximenes, Charles V, Andrea Doria, Blake, De Ruyter, and Duquesne.

SCENE II. EXIT THE “PHILADELPHIA”

An effective demonstration off Tangiers soon cooled the ardor of the Sultan of Morocco. He reconfirmed the old and highly favorable treaty of 1786. One potential enemy had been removed. On now for Syracuse, the naval base from which our campaign against Tripoli was being conducted.

Off the coast of Sardinia the Constitution hailed H.M.S. Amazon, a frigate attached to the squadron of Lord Nelson. From her Preble received “the melancholy and distressing intelligence of the loss of the U.S. ship Philadelphia.” Here, Commodore, is a problem which will put to the test all your intelligence and stoutness of heart.

At Syracuse Preble learned the full extent of the disaster. The fine frigate had been run aground off Tripoli. Captain Bainbridge, discouraged by his ill fortune, had surrendered too quickly. Three hundred and fifteen of our officers and men had been led ashore in triumph. In his haste Bainbridge had not even taken effective measures to destroy his own ship. She was floated and brought into the harbor of Tripoli. Her guns were fished out of the water and remounted. She was manned with a strong Tripolitan crew. Thus she contributed to the strength of the defenses, and constituted a threat to every merchant vessel in the Mediterranean. Gloomy were the thoughts of poor Bainbridge as he viewed these developments from his prison window.

Preble was not the man to worry over past disasters. He was concerned with future successes. How could he counteract, in part at least, the loss of the Philadelphia? There was no direct method for rescuing the crew. But there might be a chance to regain the ship, or at least destroy her so that the enemy could not use her. Bainbridge, through the connivance of the Danish consul at Tripoli, had suggested that she be attacked by a party of men secreted in the hold of a merchant vessel. The capture of a Tripolitan ketch provided the means of carrying through this daring plan. The next essential item was a cool and daring commander.

The commodore invited to this post of honor and danger Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, then in command of the Enterprise. To this young officer might well be applied a sentence from Plutarch: “Being ever thirsty after honor, and passionate for glory, if anything of a greater or extraordinary nature was to be done, he was eager to be the doer of it himself.” Decatur eagerly accepted his commodore’s invitation.

Once the squadron got wind of the venture and of the commander selected, there was no lack of volunteers. Decatur naturally gave first choice to the people in his own ship. Five of her officers and sixty-two of her sailors shifted over to the ketch. This was formally commissioned and appropriately renamed Intrepid. Five midshipmen from the Constitution completed the complement. Last, but by no means least, was a brave Sicilian pilot, Salvador Catalano.

Edward Preble took upon himself full responsibility for the hazardous enterprise. “It is my order,” he wrote Decatur, “that you proceed to Tripoli, in company with the Siren, Lieutenant Stewart; enter the harbor in the night; board the Philadelphia; burn her; and make good your escape.” The courage it requires to write such an order is seldom appreciated. If the expedition had failed, as certainly it looked very probable, all the blame would have fallen on Preble. He would have been accused of sending officers and men to their death while he remained in safety. And, if the attack should succeed, the credit and honor would belong to Decatur. But Preble was not guarding his own interests. He was striving to further those of the Navy and the country.