Decatur and Somers

by Molly Elliot Seawell

As the four young captains entered the cabin they passed a gentleman of middle age, who was a guest of the commodore’s on board of the flagship. Captain Hull saluted him as Colonel Lear, the American consul at Tangiers, and with a bow to the assembled officers the consul retired.

After the usual formalities, which Old Pepper was careful to observe, unless he happened to be in a choleric humor, the captains seated themselves around the table, the commodore at the head. Commodore Preble then opened his plan of campaign, which was listened to with the most respectful attention. He next asked each of the youthful commanders for an individual opinion. Each hastened to agree with that of the commodore.

The commodore then asked if any one of them had a suggestion to offer. Somers looked at Decatur, and Decatur looked gravely at Somers. Hull and Stewart looked straight before them. After hemming a little, each one in turn protested that he had no suggestion to make. “Old Pepper,” with a glance around the table, rose suddenly.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “this council is over. I regret to say that I have not had, in any way, the slightest assistance from you. Good-morning!”

The four young captains filed out in the same order in which they had entered, but very much quicker, and looking like whipped schoolboys.

Some hours after, Colonel Lear, entering the cabin, found Commodore Preble sitting at the table, leaning his head on his hands in an attitude of the deepest dejection.

“Lear,” said he, raising himself up, “I have been indiscreet in accepting the command of this squadron, with the duty of punishing Tripoli. Had I known how I was to be supported, I certainly should have declined it. The Government has sent me here a lot of schoolboys as commanders of all my vessels, and not one of them but is afraid to open his mouth before me!”

Nevertheless, the commodore went on with his preparations, and about the middle of December he set sail.

The squadron kept fairly well together for some days. Then a heavy gale arose, and for several days more they did not see each other. Toward night, on the afternoon that the gale abated, Decatur, while off the Tripolitan coast, caught sight of a low vessel with lateen sails and flying Tripolitan colors. He at once gave orders for the pursuit; but the ketch—for such it was—showed herself a fairly good sailer, and it took several hours to overhaul her. She was skillfully navigated and ran very close in shore, hoping to induce the Argus to follow her. But Decatur was wary, and, keeping well off the shore, declined to trust his ship upon the treacherous rocks and shoals toward which the Tripolitans would have led him. At last, just as a faint moon rose in a murky sky, the Argus got to windward of the ketch, and, bearing down on her, opened fire with deadly precision. The Tripolitans at once hauled down their colors; but Decatur, remembering their treachery as told him by Somers, and knowing that the pirates preferred hand-to-hand fighting, did not slacken his fire, but, standing on, ranged up alongside. The call for boarders had been sounded, and, of the Argus’s small company of eighty men, two thirds were ready to spring aboard the Tripolitan at the word. In another minute the two vessels were broadside to broadside. Decatur himself gave the order to board, and as the Americans sprang over the side they were met by every available man in a crew as numerous as their own, and armed with the terrible curved sword of the Barbary pirates.

The fight on the deck of the ketch was furious but short. The Tripolitans fought desperately, but in disorder, and within fifteen minutes they were beaten. Decatur, in examining his prize, found that she had sustained but little injury; and bearing in mind, as he had done ever since the first day he had heard of the Philadelphia’s loss, the destruction of the frigate, he determined that the ketch would be of great use on the expedition, and he would therefore take her back to the rendezvous at Syracuse with him.