About noon they came in sight of the spires of the city of Tripoli. Decatur did not wish to reach the Philadelphia until nightfall, but he was afraid to take in sail, for fear of being suspected; so he dragged a cable and a number of buckets behind to lessen his speed.
After a time the Philadelphia came in sight. She was anchored well in the harbor, under the guns of two heavy batteries. Two cruisers and a number of gunboats lay near by. It was a desperate and dangerous business which Decatur and his tars had taken in hand, but they did not let that trouble them.
At about ten o'clock at night the Intrepid came into the harbor's mouth. The wind had fallen and she crept slowly along over the smooth sea. The Siren stayed behind. Her work was that of rescue in case of trouble. Straight for the frigate went the devoted crew. A new moon sent its soft lustre over the waves. All was still in city and fleet.
Soon the Intrepid came near the frigate. Only twelve men were visible on her deck. The others were lying flat in the shadow on the bulwarks, each with cutlass tightly clutched in hand.
"What vessel is that?" was asked in Moorish words from the frigate.
"The Mastico, from Malta," answered the pilot in the same tongue. "We lost our anchors in the gale and were nearly wrecked. Can we ride by your ship for the night?"
The permission asked was granted, and a boat from the Intrepid made a line fast to the frigate, while the men on the latter threw a line aboard. The ropes were passed to the hidden men on the deck, who pulled on them lustily.
As the little craft came up, the men on the frigate saw her anchors hanging in place.
"You have lied to us!" came a sharp hail. "Keep off! Cut those lines!"
Others had seen the concealed men, and the cry of "Americanos!" was raised.