Then Bainbridge pulled alongside the guard-boat, supposing some mistake had been made. To his surprise the Spaniard insolently ordered him to come on board. At that Bainbridge rowed away, in spite of the Spaniard’s threats to fire, and, being long-suffering, paid no further attention to the matter.
The next night, however, Decatur, who was executive officer of the Essex, was on shore with some of the other lieutenants, and when they were going off they were insulted in much the same fashion.
That was too much for Decatur. Going over to the guard-boat next morning, he asked for its captain. Unfortunately, that official was on shore. Learning this, Decatur said:
“Tell him that Lieutenant Decatur, of the frigate Essex, pronounces him a cowardly scoundrel, and that when they meet on shore he will cut his ears off.”
Then he went back to the Essex. The guard-boat officers made haste ashore and informed the Commandante of the Port as well as their captain, who, it appears, was a man of influence. Straightway the Commandante wrote to Bainbridge asking that the lieutenants of the Essex be kept on board ship in order to prevent a personal altercation between Decatur and the guard-boat captain. Of course Bainbridge refused the insolent request, sending word that if the Spanish captain did not know how to treat American officers as gentlemen, he must take the consequences.
Finding himself unable to wriggle clear of the trouble, the Spaniard, rather than fight, made a humble apology. He was censured by his superior also, and the King, on hearing the story, issued a special edict ordering all officials to “treat all officers of the United States with courtesy, and more particularly those attached to the United States frigate Essex.”
When the War of 1812 was ended and the new American ships, that, like the Guerrière, were named for victories over the British, arrived at Gibraltar, en route to thrash the African pirates once more, the feelings of the British officers on the station were so wrought up by the presence of the Yankees that a number of duels were fought. A brief tradition of one of them shall serve to illustrate the spirit of them all.
An American lieutenant, on going ashore, was publicly insulted by six British officers, who were all challenged by the American, and it was arranged that he should meet one each day at sunrise, should he survive long enough, until he had had satisfaction from them all. For four mornings the American lieutenant rode away to the duelling ground, and each day rode back again leaving the Englishmen to bring in the dead body of their man. But on the next morning, as he rode out with the fifth, there being no one in the party but the principals, their seconds, and the surgeons, a mob of British partisans, well-armed and disguised as highwaymen, came galloping toward them. As it happened, the Englishman was riding a thoroughbred animal and the American lieutenant a worthless scrub.
Seeing the mob coming the Englishman’s face paled with anger.
“They are coming to kill you,” he said to the American lieutenant. “You take my horse and you can escape them, and we will settle this affair at another time.”