Decatur and Somers

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“The commodore will have harder work to catch the Boston than anything else he is likely to give chase to,” he said.

Commodore Dale determined to await orders at Gibraltar before making a regular attack on Tripoli, but he caused it to be boldly announced by the American officers, meanwhile, that if the Tripolitans wanted to fight, all they had to do was to lift their anchors, go outside and back their topsails, and he would be ready for them.

The British naval officers, at that time, treated the American officers with studied ill-will, for they had not yet learned to look with pride upon the United States as a country made by themselves, and which Great Britain found unconquerable because its people were of the same sturdy stock as her own. The cooler heads and better hearts among the English officers at Gibraltar counseled courtesy, but among the younger men it was sometimes difficult to avoid clashes. Especially was this the case as regards Commodore Dale’s squadron, for he was connected with an episode hateful to the British, but glorious to both themselves and the Americans—the capture of the Serapis by Paul Jones. The squadron was kept in the highest state of drill and efficiency, not only as a matter of necessary precaution, but as one of professional pride and duty; and the trim American officers and the clean and orderly American seamen made a brave showing alongside of those belonging to England, the Mistress of the Seas.

One night, a week or two after their arrival, as Decatur was pacing the deck of the Essex, he heard a splash at the bow, and going forward he saw a man swimming rapidly away from the ship. Suspecting this to be a deserter, he at once had a boat lowered; and as Macdonough, Decatur’s favorite midshipman, was about swinging himself into it, Danny Dixon came up.

“Mr. Decatur,” said he, touching his cap, “that ’ere man is a deserter, sir, and he’ll be making for the Thunderer, sure. His name is John Hally, and he come from New York State, and he’s been a scamp ever since I knowed him—and that’s ten year ago. He’s a thief, and he’s stole a mort o’ things; but he ain’t been caught yet. I told him this arternoon I was agoin’ to report him for gittin’ into the men’s ditty-bags; and you see, sir, he’s showin’ us his heels.”

“Jump in the boat, then,” said Decatur. “You may help to identify him.”

The Thunderer lay about four hundred yards away, and the deserter’s course in the water was perfectly visible every foot of the distance. He evidently saw the boat following, and dived once or twice to throw his pursuers off the track. The noise made by the boat aroused the attention of the people on the Thunderer. They came to the rail peering through the darkness of the night, and presently a lantern was waved over the side. Decatur, who watched it all with interest, was convinced that this was done by order of an officer, and the object was to help the deserter from the American frigate. Sure enough, as soon as the swimmer reached the great line-of-battle ship a line was thrown him, and he was dragged bodily through an open port on the berth deck. Almost at the same moment the Essex’s boat came alongside, and young Macdonough ran up the gangway and stepped on the quarter-deck.

Captain Lockyer, who commanded the Thunderer, happened to be on deck, and to him Macdonough addressed himself. This young midshipman, like most of the gallant band of officers in the infant navy, afterward earned a name great in the history of his country. But he was always of a peculiarly gentle and even diffident manner, and his mildness, like that of Somers, was sometimes mistaken for want of spirit. It was in this instance; for when he saluted Captain Lockyer, and modestly asked that the deserter be delivered to him, he was only answered by a curt order to have the man brought on deck, adding, “Your ships, sir, are full of British subjects, and if this man is one I shall retain him.”

Macdonough flushed redly, but feeling it to be more dignified to say nothing, he held his tongue. The captain took a turn up and down the deck, without deigning any further notice of him. Macdonough, not thinking the rudeness of the captain would extend to the officers, turned to a young lieutenant, who happened to be Captain Lockyer’s son, lounging on the rail, and said:

“I am very thirsty. Will you be good enough to order me a glass of water?”