“Lord, Cap’n Somers, when I remember you and Cap’n Decatur as reefers aboard o’ ‘Old Wagoner,’ and now I sees you both commandin’ smart vessels, like the Airgus and the Nartilus, I says to myself, I must be a-gittin’ old. I ain’t very old, sir; you know I warn’t but a little shaver when I was on the Bunnum Richard with Cap’n Paul Jones——”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Somers hastily, remembering that once, started on Cap’n Paul Jones and the Bunnum Richard, Danny was difficult to stop. “We have a fine lot of young reefers here now.”
“Yes, sir; Mr. Macdonough, he’s a fine young gentleman, and there’s a little ’un, they calls Mr. Pickle Israel, ’cause he’s allus in a scrape o’ some sort. But he ain’t got no flunk at all in him, and the men says as how, when it’s work or fightin’ to be done, that this little midship-mite is right on top. ’Course, there ain’t no Paul Joneses among ’em, axin’ your pardon, sir—there never was but one Cap’n Paul Jones—but we’ve got as fine a lot o’ young officers as ever I see, and no ladybirds among ’em—all stormy petrels, sir.”
Somers presented Danny with a pound of tobacco, which was shown in the fok’sl with great pride, accompanied with more reminiscences of “Cap’n Paul Jones.” Some days passed in giving the men on the Argus liberty and in making ready for a cruise to Tripoli, which was to precede the great attack. The bomb-vessels, shells, and many of the preparations necessary for the gigantic struggle with the pirates were not completed, and would not be for some time; but Commodore Preble wisely concluded to give the Tripolitans a sight of his force, and also to encourage Captain Bainbridge and his companions in captivity by the knowledge that their country had not forgotten them. The commodore had determined to wait for the return of the Siren, under Lieutenant-Commandant Stewart, which had been sent to Gibraltar for some stores and to have some slight repairs made. The Siren, however, did not return as promptly as was expected, which annoyed Commodore Preble excessively. The officers, all of whom were Stewart’s friends, were fearful that it might hurt him very much in the commodore’s opinion. His arrival, therefore, was looked for anxiously, and every hour of the day the question was asked, “Has anything been heard of Stewart?” and every day Commodore Preble’s vexation became more evident. At last, one morning, seeing a very fine merchant ship that was bound for Gibraltar making her way out of the harbor, the commodore signaled to her and sent a boat with a letter to Captain Stewart. The letter was written in the commodore’s most fiery vein and with his curtest decision. It simply directed Stewart to sail at once, without waiting for further repairs.
A day or two afterward, when the usual inquiries were made about Stewart, Trippe answered dolefully:
“The commodore has just had a letter from him saying his mainmast is so badly sprung that it is unserviceable, and he is having a new one made. Was there ever anything so unlucky? Of course, he can’t get here for a considerable time, and all that time ‘Old Pepper’ will be lashing himself into a rage; and on top of this Stewart gets the commodore’s orders to sail at once.”
Things seemed black enough for Stewart, and as they were all looking forward to the chance of distinction in the approaching attack on Tripoli, it seemed more unfortunate than ever. However, one morning, only a day or two after this, a vessel which looked very like the Argus, a sister ship to the Siren, was discerned, and a few minutes revealed her to be the Siren. But she had no mainmast, and her appearance with only one mast was grotesque in the extreme.
“What can it be that Captain Stewart is towing?” asked Pickle Israel of Lieutenant Trippe, as the two watched the Siren’s approach from the deck of the flagship.
Trippe examined it carefully, but before he could make out what the object was, the commodore walked up, and, handing Trippe his glass, asked him:
“Will you be kind enough, Mr. Trippe, to examine the Siren and see what sort of a spar she is towing?”