The history of our Navy from its origin to the present day, 1775-1897, vol. 1 (of 4)

by John Randolph Spears

A shock followed that made the ships beyond the bar quiver until tiny waves spread away over the smooth water. And with the shock came a roar that deafened. And then, as the echoes of the roar died away among the distant hills, the patter and splash of shells and splintered timbers were heard on every side, while cries as of fear and distress arose from the city—cries that were followed by absolute silence.

All night long the Americans cruised to and fro about the channel, firing guns and rockets at intervals, hoping against despair to find a survivor. When morning came to give a fair view of the harbor, one of the enemy’s gunboats was missing, and the Tripolitans were hauling three others, badly shattered, out on the beach. The ketch and all who sailed in her—the “men, whose names ought to live in the recollection and affections of a grateful country, and whose conduct ought to be regarded as an example to future generations”—had been blown to pieces.

Richard Somers, finding that his venture was discovered, and the crew of a Tripolitan gunboat coming on board, had deliberately fired the mine, and, Samson-like, had destroyed himself with the enemy.

Fragments of the wreck and a number of bodies of white men were picked up in the harbor. The bodies were viewed by Captain Bainbridge, but none was definitely recognized.

Other attacks on the city followed. The Congress gave Preble a gold medal, each of his officers and midshipmen a sword, and all others of the crew a month’s pay because of their good work there. The force was increased by other ships until there were five frigates, a brig, three schooners, a sloop, and a dozen or so gunboats and bomb barges in the fleet, making the most powerful squadron that had ever assembled under the flag. For that day and place it was an impressive display of the sea power. In the meantime a formidable uprising had taken place in the Bashaw’s dominions, and the capital of his chief province was captured by the leader of the revolt with the aid of the Americans. So the Bashaw became alarmed and eventually offered to deliver up all prisoners for a ransom of $60,000 and to agree never again to trouble American commerce. This offer was accepted, and peace followed. The fleet then sailed to Tunis, whose ruler, stimulated by the British consul-general, had expelled the American agent. To him terms of peace were dictated under the muzzles of the guns of the fleet. And that was a matter of wonder to the nations of Europe, for never had such a thing been done before. So closes the story of the American navy’s work during the period between the Revolution and the War of 1812.

Preble’s Medal.

As it appears in the perspective of a hundred years, that was in many ways a most important epoch. It was, first of all, the time in which the ruling policy of the American navy, as regards the construction of ships, was formed—the policy under which it was determined to build only as many ships as might be necessary to defend the nation and its commerce from aggressors, but each ship to be the most powerful possible for its size. Every device and model that seemed likely to add to the efficiency of these vessels was tried, regardless of expense. The eager enterprise of the new nation and the ships this enterprise set afloat excited endless derision from the British officers of that day. The Constitution was called “a pine box” by some Englishmen who inspected her. They had to learn by hard experience their error.

The foreign commerce of the nation, through the influence of this new fleet, was not only freed from the evils which the Mediterranean pirates had brought upon it, but also from those for which the French anarchists were responsible. Indeed, that commerce grew until the increase of the tariff collected from imports amounted to several times the cost of the whole American navy.

But valuable as were these gains, they were, perhaps, together of less importance than was the effect of the deeds of the naval heroes upon the people of the new republic. In the war of the Revolution we had, indeed, won liberty, but we still dragged the slave-chains of colonists. Without having known what it was to be freemen we had established a government of and by the people and we found ourselves in unfamiliar quarters. We had placed ourselves, so to speak, on the quarterdeck without having mastered the art of navigation, and while quartered in the cabin, we had the manners of the forecastle and smelled of bilgewater. Our new uniforms did not fit us well, but there was no form of training that could so quickly swell the muscles until they would fill the garments of liberty as a righteous foreign war. The war with the Barbary pirates was of all wars most righteous. It stirred the indignation of the most sluggish patriot to read of the deeds of these black hounds of the sea, while the signal valor of those who fought under the American flag leavened the spirit of the whole nation. As the stories of the deeds of those who fought afloat for liberty had prepared the way for manning the new fleet which aggression compelled us to build, so the stories of the deeds of the heroes of the new navy nerved the nation for the conflict that was already at hand. Small as were the numbers of the crews who carried the flag overseas in this epoch, it is safe to say that they, and they alone, strengthened the heart of the people until it was possible to resist the shock of 1812.