As the student of American naval history turns the leaves of Cooper’s invaluable work, nothing found there is likely to impress him more deeply than the list of names of the officers retained on the naval register after the Peace Establishment Act of 1801. For he will find there at a glance the names of the majority of the heroes of the early days—the names of such men as Dale and Bainbridge and Stewart and Hull and Somers and Decatur and Perry and Macdonough, to bring to mind the notable deeds done when the nation was young. These alone make the tabular pages notable. But when they are examined more closely, still another impressive feature is found, for in the column of the table that tells the ultimate fate of the majority of the men there named, he will find the words “killed in a duel” so frequently as to produce a distinct mental shock. There were thirty-six lieutenants, of whom two, Stephen Decatur and Henry Vandyke, were “killed in a duel.” There were one hundred and fifty-nine midshipmen, of whom three suffered a similar fate.
It is a pity that no adequate record was kept of the duels of American naval officers in other days, for, shocking as the assertion may seem to the humanitarian, in these days, it is nevertheless a fact that some of the duellists of those days proved their heroic and manly qualities in personal combats—in combats that did not always result in death, as well as in some that did. A few of these duels are mentioned in some detail in a variety of historical works. There are others that live by tradition only, while of others still there is nothing now known, so far as the writer hereof could learn, although inquiry was made of many naval officers and all the books relating to such subjects were searched. But because some of the duels of which an account is to be had were creditable under the circumstances to at least one of the men taking part in each, and because others illustrate the spirit of the age, even an inadequate account of them seems to be better than none at all.
In proof of the assertion that duels were sometimes creditable, the story of the meeting of Midshipman Joseph Bainbridge with the secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, Governor of the Island of Malta, in 1803, shall be told first of all. There are several versions of the story, but all agree as to the most important facts, and of these there is no doubt.
As the reader will remember, the Americans had a fleet in the Mediterranean, at that time, negotiating treaties with the Barbary pirates. It was in the days when the lucky schooner Enterprise thrashed the pirate polacre Tripoli, losing not a man herself, but killing twenty of the enemy and wounding thirty more; when Stephen Decatur avenged the treacherous killing of his brother James in a hand-to-hand fight with the pirate murderer, and afterward burned the Philadelphia; when Somers went to his death in the fire-ship Intrepid.
At the various civilized ports where the American ships called, the American officers fell in with the officers of the European navies. The Yankees had already shown somewhat of their skill as sea-warriors, but in the mind of the European officer they were at best mere plebeians. They were of the people. In short, in the mind of the European officer, they were not gentlemen. The English officers were the chief aggressors in treating the Americans with contumely. Considering the state of civilization at that day, what was an American officer to do?
On a certain night in the month of February, 1803, while the Chesapeake, the New York, the John Adams, and the Enterprise were lying at Malta, a number of the officers went ashore to spend the evening. Eventually they gathered at the theatre. While a number of them stood in the lobby there, the secretary of the Governor came in with some friends. He was of mature years and a noted duellist of that day—had killed a number of men, in fact—and his mission in the theatre was to get a fight with one of the Yankee officers. He had openly boasted, it is said, that he would “have a Yankee for breakfast” the next day.
Looking over the group, he selected one of the youngest, Midshipman Joseph Bainbridge, for his victim, and on walking past the group jostled him. As it happened, Bainbridge was at that moment speaking to a shipmate and was taken wholly by surprise. Having no idea that anyone would wilfully seek a deadly quarrel, his first impression was that the jostling was accidental. Nevertheless, when the secretary walked away with a jaunty air, Bainbridge suspected that an insult had been intended, and he was just speaking to his shipmates about it when Lieutenant Stephen Decatur happened along. Decatur had had experience in such matters, and Bainbridge at once stated the case to him.
“We’ll very soon learn whether it was an accident or an insult,” said Decatur, and he was turning away to go in search of the offender when the fellow came past the group from behind Decatur. As he arrived beside young Bainbridge, the duellist said, in a voice that all could hear:
“Those Yankees will never stand the smell of gunpowder.” Then he jostled the youngster again and started on, but before he could take a second step he received a blow from the Yankee’s fist that knocked him sprawling.
Of course the duellist challenged as soon as he could get on his feet. Decatur smiled and bowed. Turning to Bainbridge, who was, it should be remembered, a boy of perhaps sixteen, Decatur said: