The Boys of 1812 and Other Naval Heroes

by James Russell Soley

For several days the wind blew violently on shore and prevented any active operations. The ships hastened to gain an offing; but the gale increased, and on the last day, when it was at its height, the gunboats pitching and tossing in the heavy sea seemed on the point of foundering. The foresail and main-topsail of the frigate, though close-reefed, were blown out into ribbons from the bolt-ropes. Fortunately before any worse accident happened the gale subsided, and the squadron was once more able to approach the town.

At last came the 3d of August,—a day ever memorable in the annals of our naval history. There was a light breeze blowing from the southeast as the squadron stood in slowly for the town, whose white walls, surmounted by glistening mosques and minarets, and surrounded by gardens and groves of palms, seemed to the Americans like some fabled city of old myths, which they were always approaching and which never could be reached. There is no fable about it on this day, however. Within these walls are three hundred of their companions confined in prison by a barbarian despot who calls himself a Pasha, but who is little better than the leader of a gang of pirates. His hundred cannon are frowning from the walls, his batteries are manned, and his fleet of galleys is drawn up in battle order outside the bristling line of rocks that covers the entrance of the harbor. They are there to have a fight, and the commodore is not a man to balk them in their purpose.

The fleet is now advancing, the bombs and gunboats still in tow. Presently the ships wear, with their heads off shore. The Pasha, on the battlements of his castle, surrounded by his courtiers, is watching the movements of the Americans, and says to his officers, "They will mark their distance for tacking; they are a sort of Jews, who have no notion of fighting." But he is going to find out before night. The ships are now passing within hail of the commodore, and each captain is receiving his final orders for the attack. Officers and men are transferred from the larger vessels to the gunboats. The latter are arranged in two divisions,—the first under Somers, the second under Decatur. There are only six of them in all, and they are to attack nineteen of the enemy, while the mortar-boats shell the town, and the "Constitution" and her attendant brigs and schooners deliver their broadsides at the batteries.

At half-past one in the afternoon, the ships, wearing in succession, are headed for the batteries. As they approach silently and steadily, the bombs and gunboats are cast off. The batteries give no sign of life, there is no sound to break the stillness of the clear midsummer afternoon; and looking at the picture as the sun shines peacefully from the bright blue sky upon the white city walls, and the ships under their clouds of canvas, and the sparkling waters, one can hardly fancy that in a few moments it will be transformed into a scene of mortal combat.

At length the bombs have taken their position and come to anchor, and the signal for battle is displayed at the mast-head of the "Constitution." Each of the mortars flings out a little curling puff of smoke. An instant later, with a deafening din and uproar, all the guns in the squadron and in the batteries on shore, as if directed by one man, have opened fire with their heavy round shot. The gunboats, led by Decatur and Somers, dash out against the enemy, and soon they are lost to view beneath the smoke of battle.

The cannonade continues. Meantime Somers, though his boat is a dull sailer, by dint of hard work with the sweeps has reached the enemy's rear division, and single-handed as he is drives them in confusion behind the rocks. Decatur, followed by his brother James, by Trippe, and by the younger Bainbridge, attacks the van. The bowsprits have been unshipped so that there will be nothing to impede the boarders, for it is by boarding that Decatur means to gain his prizes. Bainbridge in his advance loses his lateen yard by a shot, and can only support the attacking column from a distance. Trippe dashes up alongside one of the enemy's boats crying out, "Board!" and leaps over the rail, followed by Henley, his midshipman, and nine of his crew. The others are about to jump, when the boats fall apart. It is hot work for the little handful of Americans. The enemy is more than three times their number. But there is no time for thought, and without a second's hesitation the boarders make a rush upon the crew of the galley with pike and cutlass. For a few minutes the struggle is desperate. Trippe singles out the leader, a tall and well-built Turk, as his own antagonist. As he comes up, the Turk makes a swift cut at him with his scimitar; but Trippe parries the blow skilfully with his sword, receiving only a slight wound. Stroke after stroke descends, as the enemy, swinging his curved blade with the rapidity of lightning, cuts savagely at his opponent. But Trippe is a cool and expert fencer, and though he is gashed and cut again and again, he holds his ground until he has passed his weapon through the body of the Turk. His companions, in the fury of their attack, have killed thirteen of the enemy; and though there are still more than twenty left, the rest seeing their leader fall are panic-struck and fall on their faces begging for mercy. Trippe carries off with him eleven honorable scars, and three of his men are wounded; but none have fallen, and the Tripolitan gunboat is a prize.

Meanwhile the two Decaturs, in the other gunboats, are not idle. The elder, Stephen, runs on board the largest of the enemy's boats, taking with him his whole crew of Americans, twenty-three in number, and leaving the Neapolitan gunners to guard his boat. For ten minutes they are fighting pellmell on the enemy's decks,—another bloody hand-to-hand encounter with the same result. Despite their numbers, the Turks cannot resist the impetuous charge of the Americans. Many of them are killed, some jump into the sea, a few rush in terror to the hold, the rest surrender. The flag is lowered, and Decatur takes his prize in tow, to draw her out of the battle.

At this moment Lieut. James Decatur's gunboat comes up under his stern and he learns that his brother, after receiving the surrender of one of the galleys, has been shot through the head by her commander. Decatur has left most of his crew on board the prize, but he does not stop to think of that; his brother has been murdered by a treacherous enemy, and he must meet the Turk and exact from him the penalty. The boat is pointed out; she has taken refuge within the enemy's line. But this is nought to Decatur. Plunging into their midst, he finds himself beside the object of his search, and in a moment he has leaped upon the galley's deck. He does not look to see whether he is followed; but young Macdonough has joined his leader with a handful of men, and at his side they charge the enemy. As Decatur rushes upon the Turkish captain, the latter makes a thrust at him with a boarding pike. Decatur parries with his cutlass, but the blade breaks at the hilt. The Turk makes another lunge, and this time wounds Decatur in the breast. The American wrenches the weapon from his antagonist, and they grapple and fall to the deck, Decatur uppermost. At this moment another Tripolitan makes a cut with his scimitar at Decatur's head; but as the weapon is raised in the air a young blue-jacket, Reuben James, whose name will ever be remembered for this act of self-devotion, since he cannot stop the blow with his wounded arms, stoops down and intercepts it with his head.

The fight now goes on around the two prostrate captains. The active and sinewy Turk, making one last effort, turns and gets Decatur under him. Drawing a knife from its sheath, he is about to bury it in the captain's throat. But Decatur is as cool as he is valiant. Seizing the Turk's uplifted arm with a grip like iron, he feels with his right hand for the pistol in his pocket. Quickly it is cocked, and without drawing it, Decatur aims and fires. The dagger drops from the Turk's hand, and his body, limp and lifeless, rolls over on the deck. Another prize has been captured, and Decatur has avenged his brother's death.

While the gunboats are thus actively engaged, the ships keep up a steady cannonade. Twice the reserve division of the enemy, stationed behind the rocks, endeavors to come out, and by rallying and supporting the defeated rear, to renew the contest; but each time it is covered and checked by the guns of the "Constitution," and after losing three more galleys which are sunk by the frigate's fire, it gives up the attempt.