The commodore looked around and smiled. Not an officer was missing. He took his station near the gangway, and an instant hush fell upon them. The boatswain’s call to “Attention!” was a mere form.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you perhaps know that it is in contemplation to send an expedition, under the command of Captain Decatur, to Tripoli, for the purpose of destroying the Philadelphia, which has been raised, refitted, and now flies the Tripolitan colors. Captain Stewart, of the Siren, is to support Captain Decatur with his whole force. The ketch so gallantly captured by Captain Decatur is to be used, as being of a build and rig often seen in Mediterranean ports, and therefore not likely to excite suspicion. She has been fitly named the Intrepid. Her ammunition is now aboard of her, and she sails at daylight. Captain Decatur has the selection of his brave assistants. I can only say that his choice, like mine, of the ships and the captains to do the work, will be made solely upon the ground of availability. If willingness to go were the only test, there could be no choice; but in other respects there is a choice, which Captain Decatur has made with my approval.”
The commodore then read off the first name, “Midshipman Izard.”
An electric thrill seemed to run through the group of midshipmen as the names followed in quick succession: “Midshipmen Morris, Laws, Davis, and Rowe.”
The older officers looked acutely disappointed; many of them had hoped to go, but they gave the lucky five a rousing cheer, while the “stay-at-homes” among the midshipmen joined in, and all shook hands cordially with their more fortunate messmates. Decatur could not but notice little Israel, the boy’s face was so doleful. He turned to the lad and said kindly:
“Mr. Israel forgets that his stature is not as great as his spirit; but some day he will have a chance, and no doubt he will make glorious use of it.”
These kind words consoled Pickle a little, but except the lucky five, it was a disappointed lot of reefers who stood on the Constitution’s quarter-deck and magnanimously cheered the more fortunate of their number.
The ketch was anchored close in shore, with the red flag flying at her fore, showing that she was taking on powder. Decatur then ordered his boat, and said farewell to the commodore and the assembled officers. He directed the midshipmen to report on board the Intrepid at daylight, and then, inviting Somers and Stewart to go to his ship with him, all three were pulled to the Argus. It was about four o’clock on a lovely afternoon in February, which is a springlike month in Sicily. On the Argus, too, there was the tension of expectation, as they knew from the state of forwardness in the preparations of the ketch that the time of adventure was at hand.
The three young captains came over the side together, and immediately Decatur ordered the boatswain and his mates to pipe “All hands to muster!” Almost before the sound had died away the men crowded up the hatchways, and the officers quickly ranged themselves on the quarterdeck. “All up and aft!” was reported, and Decatur advanced with the list in his hand.
“Gentlemen,” said he to his officers, in his usual impetuous way, “you know, perhaps, that an expedition leaves at daylight to-morrow morning, in the ketch Intrepid, to destroy the Philadelphia in the harbor of Tripoli. I have the honor of commanding the ketch, while Captain Stewart, in the Siren, commands the supporting force. I have selected the officers to accompany me from the Constitution and the Argus. My selection was governed by expediency only. All will wish to go”—a murmur of assent was here heard—“but all can not go. Hence I select those who seem to me best adapted to bear the hardships and to withstand the peculiar fighting methods of the Tripolitans. I have concluded to make no choice among my lieutenants, but to take them all, and Midshipman Macdonough and Dr. Heerman, surgeon.”