What would Decatur be doing? And who was to go with Lawrence and who would stay with the squadron?
“I am sure you are wondering why I will not be in command; the commodore has asked that Captain Chauncey of John Adams and I reconnoiter the harbor to determine just where the pasha is keeping his gunboats now and what is the condition of the shore batteries. Chauncey’s men will man the boat and the other schooners will remain near at hand during the time we are in the harbor. I have determined that Mister Devon will be of use to us, and he will, therefore, accompany me.” Another pause, a rumble of comment. I looked at Judd in time to see him wink his eye at me as he struggled to maintain the decorum expected of him.
“Mister Lawrence will be returning as quick as ever possible with the necessary provisions and, with moderate weather, I would fully expect to see you all again within a fortnight.”
“Boat ahoy! Boat approaching from leeward, sir!” The lookout’s cry interrupted the captain’s remarks and we all turned to see the cutter from John Adams being rowed smartly towards us. Judd took the opportunity to hasten below for some clothes to take with him.
We hove to the schooner and gave proper respect to the captain as he and Devon climbed quickly over the bulwark and dropped into the waiting boat. Somebody yelled out, “Good fortune, Captain Decatur!” but I did not see who it might have been. Then Lawrence set our sails and our course to the north for Sicily.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Judd! Look who I brought back! A changed man, he has assured me,” I shouted down to Devon as he stood in the sternsheets of John Adams’ cutter, approaching us as we lay hove to a pistol shot from the frigate. I did not see Captain Decatur and part of my conscious wondered about that. But right then, I was more excited about having our colleague returned to us and was reveling in the joy of telling Judd Devon about it. I could see clearly the look of surprise on Judd’s face and, with a sideways glance, the concern behind the smile on Wheatley’s.
The squadron was still in place, now to the west of Tripoli. I learned shortly from Judd that, beyond the visit Decatur and others had made to the harbor, very little had happened because a northwest gale had blown for nearly a week and forced everyone to seek the safety of the deeper water offshore. The little ketch, Intrepid, had rejoined along with another brig, Scourge, both of which arrived laden with water and provisions. The brig had been a Tripolitan blockade runner captured during the previous season by Syren and before that, a French-owned vessel named Quatre Freres captured by the British in 1797. A fine trim looking vessel, it was thought she had been built in America.
“I thought you were to be held ashore for . . . well, a long time, Thomas. I am glad to see you back aboard. Hopefully, we can avoid crossing each other even though we are forced to live in close quarters.” Judd pretended he did not see Wheatley’s hand extended in greeting, and his tone belied his welcoming words.
I spoke up. “Judd, Thomas assures me he has learned from his mistakes and has changed. I have actually enjoyed his company for the week and more he has been aboard. And you may recall, I . . . well, we were surely not best of friends earlier. You will be surprised, I am sure, at the change in him.”
Thomas looked from one of us to the other, but said nothing. He had started for the hatch when Judd called after him.
“Very well, Thomas; I will endeavor to start with the slate clean. But pray, how did you manage to get ‘liberated’ from your confinement? I really had not expected to see you this soon, barely six weeks from when we saw you ashore in Syracuse.” The three of us headed below with Thomas actually offering a hand to Judd with his seabag, a hand which Judd declined.
“I reckon Lieutenant Lawrence had instructions from De . . . Captain Decatur to fetch me out. Must be he wanted my advice on how to finish this business!” Thomas smiled broadly as he spoke, deflecting Judd’s invective before it came. “Actually, Mister Lawrence mentioned to me that the captain and the commodore had determined to end my sentence since it was convenient to return me to the ship and another hand would be welcome. Made me wonder if you two couldn’t handle things without me!” He smiled and winked at me as he spoke. Judd’s face began to contort with anger, and Thomas raised his hand, cutting off any retort before he could give it voice. He smiled more broadly at us both.
“I hear from the crew and Mister Morris you boys had a hot time of it out here. ‘Specially that first attack you made with the gunboats. While I am sorry to have missed that scrap,” Judd and I exchanged a look, “I might not have faired as well as you two since . . . well, that was then, and I have had time to think about things. I look forward to another opportunity to participate in some fighting with these devils!”
“Well, Thomas, you will not have long to wait; we will be attacking in the gunboats this very night. The captain is in Constitution even as we sit here and is planning the action with the commodore. By the way, I collect you have heard that Commodore Preble is to be relieved? I would wager that we will see considerable action now, at least until the rest of the frigates and Commodore Barron arrive.”
“What are we doing tonight, Judd? We have always attacked in the daylight. Why at night?” I tried to keep the concern out of my voice, but my efforts fell short of the mark.
“You’re not still afraid of the dark, are you, Oliver?” Thomas offered, but with a smile.
“No, Wheatley. And for your information, I never was! It’s just that I . . . and I’d warrant you as well, have never fought at night.” As I spoke, I remembered our “most bold and daring” attack on Philadelphia and put my hand up in resignation even before Thomas and Judd could remind me. “Yes, I remember last February. Well.”
We all laughed, and Goodbody, our steward, appeared with dinner. In celebration of his return, Thomas rummaged in his seachest and produced a bottle of wine which he shared out to us, a token of his desire to be friends.
By nightfall, the squadron had moved closer to the breakwater in preparation of sending in the gunboats and bomb ships. And at midnight, the brigs and schooners towed them the rest of the way to a position where their cannon and mortars could fire effectively and, after manning the little vessels, cast them off to do their work. Again, Judd and I sailed on Decatur’s gunboat, while Thomas went with Mister Lawrence on a bomb ship.
From two in the middle watch until dawn we fired and threw shells into the town. We could see the mortar shells when they exploded behind the walls of the fortress, but we received absolutely no return fire. It was as if the people had all left. I am not sure we did a great deal of damage in spite of the almost leisurely rate of fire we maintained. By six, the larger vessels had us under tow again, and we were removed to a safe distance away.
“That was certainly not what I had expected. Don’t they shoot back?” Thomas commented as we sat at table for breakfast.
“Not only do they shoot back, Thomas, they generally send out their own gunboats and galleys to attack us. And then it often can get quite warm!” Judd replied with no rancor. “You just wait. You’ll get your chance to meet these barbarians; we all have!”
“And they’re as bad, worse, by half, actually, as the ones we met on Philadelphia last February. To me, at any rate!” 1 added in case he thought we had just been sitting out here carrying on a one-sided bombardment.
Two nights later, in the company of Syren, Argus, Vixen, Nautilus, and our own Enterprise, the gunboats and mortars again went in close to the rocks to bombard the town. This time, we received a heavy fire in return. At daybreak, Constitution stood in to within two cables of the rocks and laid down a withering fire of grape and round shot, targeting the enemy gunboats which had sailed out to attack our own vessels; there were thirteen of the hellish boats and galleys. Their fire succeeded in sinking one of the heathen vessels, disabling two others, and forcing the remaining ten to retreat to the safety of the mole.
Our flagship then followed the enemy to within a musket-shot of the quay, keeping up a hot fire the whole time, and a
ttacked the batteries located on the mole. She actually hove to and held her position for nearly an entire hour while her twenty-four pounders hammered the shore batteries with over three hundred round shot and untold numbers of grape and canister. Preble did not restrict his fire to just the batteries; he poured five or six full broadsides into the castle and the town as well, with satisfying result. In the light of the fires started by the mortar rounds our bomb ships threw, we could see huge sections of walls and buildings that had crumbled under the onslaught.
Of course, the gunboat crews, no longer under attack themselves, were in perfect position to witness this remarkable display, cheering each new success with lusty huzzahs and ribald comments aimed at their enemy.
“We must surely be hurting them, Judd! No one could stand that bombardment for long without . . . well, maybe this will inspire the Bashaw to negotiate more reasonably!” I hoped!
“It’s not entirely one-sided, Oliver. Look there. One of the cutters has taken ball from the fort, it appears. They’re sinking!” Judd shouted back to me over he thunderous roar of the pitched battle and pointed to a ship’s boat (I recall it was one of those from John Adams) that was in complete turmoil and already wash to the gunwales. Men splashed in the water alongside and some clung to the wreckage. The firelight cast an eerie glow on the scene, bathing the unfor-tunate boat and the calm water in orange and yellow tones.
Then, as the first light of a new day began to brighten the eastern sky, the ring ended. The flagship and the fort battery went silent, and Constitution withdrew, picking up several of the gunboats as she passed. The brigs collected the remainder, and a cutter from Syren rescued the unfortunates from the sunken boat. In all, we lost three men killed and one wounded, all from the unlucky boat.
“Well, that was more like it. At least this time they knew we were shooting at them! Too bad about the men we lost, but all in all, a small price to pay. I’d wager we killed a damn sight more than three of them and did more than a little damage!” Thomas was positively ebullient as we returned to the schooner. Of course, none of the enemy shot had landed in his boat!
“You young gentlemen can have a day at leisure to rest, since we’ll be staying on our anchors for the balance of the day,” Lieutenant Lawrence told us as we dragged ourselves to the cockpit for some food. I was not even sure what meal we might find, so confused with fatigue I was! Never mind the food. Sleep will answer best! I found my cot and collapsed into it, asleep as I fell.
By dawn the next morning, August thirty-first, we had two new vessels in our midst; another supply ship had brought the squadron shot, powder, water and fresh vegetables from Malta, and a Spanish ship had come out of Tripoli with information, intelligence, and, I later found out, communication from our colleagues in captivity.
Since the supply ship had no word of Commodore Barron or the other American vessels said to be on their way, Preble waited a few days to see if they might appear—the additional weight of metal would be helpful—and then decided to launch yet another attack on the town and the castle. He was determined to bring the pasha to heel while he remained in command! When our captain returned from the flagship and planning the attack, he mustered all hands on deck and told us what would be happening later that day.
“Men, this might easily be the last chance we have to give our commodore his victory over these heathen devils. He has earned the honor, as have all of you, and it is only fitting that he be given the glory he is due, as you will be. We must bring the Bashaw to heel before Commodore Preble is forced to turn over his command. The attack we will undertake this afternoon will, with luck, bea down the insolence of our enemy, forcing him to negotiate and seek quarter and return to us our comrades from the late frigate Philadelphia.” I was sun Decatur looked squarely at me as he uttered this last, and my heart leaped with the hope that he was right! My mind, too, swirled with thoughts of Edward and how wonderful it would be to see him again, tell him of my experiences hen and take him home!
Won’t our parents be overjoyed when they see us pull up to the house on Hel Street and step down from a coach and four! Of course, there won’t be time to sen off a letter with the good news before we sail for home, so it will be a complete surprise And to have the time with Edward, alone with no . . .
“. . . Baldwin’s place in gunboat number four.” The mention of my nan jerked me unceremoniously me out of my imaginary visit with Edward an back to the deck of Enterprise.
What had I just heard? That Wheatley would take my place on my gunboat with Decatur and Judd? Oh, no! How could that be? Had I not acquitted myself with honor the past several times we had fought? Why would the captain do that? Thomas had only been back a few days and knew little of how things worked out there! He had barely been shot at! And never had he boarded one of their boats like I have, not once, but twice! And . . .
“. . . the schooners and brigs will approach closer this time and will be participating in the attack actively. We will keep more men aboard each to provide the ability to fight most of our batteries.” Decatur continued his explanation of the plan while I continued to search my recent behavior to find the reason for being left out of what might well be our last attack. My delight at having Thomas back aboard the schooner had paled considerably!
When we were dismissed, I remained rooted to the deck, still lost in thoughts of my own inadequacy. I remembered nothing of my fears, my churning stomach, the trembling hands that had accompanied each previous experience on the gunboats. All I knew was that Hobbs was taking Lawrence’s boat, now with Judd, and I was being left aboard the schooner with the first lieutenant while Wheatley took my place with the captain. I should have been relieved at this turn of events, but instead was bereft at being left behind.
“Well, I reckon we’ll be some busy here aboard the schooner, Oliver. I am counting on you and Bradford to handle the entire battery. Since we’ll be short-handed, you’ll both be right busy, but I know you will manage just fine!” Lawrence was smiling encouragingly at me. I, on the other hand, stared at him, my incomprehension clearly visible in my blank look.
“Guess Cap’n Decatur needed two aboard he could count on since we’ll be taking on the polaccas this time. Too bad the others in the gunboats likely won’t be getting into a real scrap this time!” He didn’t sound genuinely sorry about that, and, as he continued to recount Decatur’s plan (which I had missed), I began to feel less like I was being punished for something.
Once again, as four bells sounded in the afternoon watch signaling two o’clock, the gunboats and bomb vessels were manned and sent off on their mission. I scarcely noticed, so busy was I with the preparation of our guns. I had assigned Bradford to oversee the forward battery while 1 managed those toward the stem, but Lawrence had made it clear to me that he would hold me responsible for the entire broadside, so after I had seen shot and powder laid out for mine, I stepped forward to ensure the forward battery was equally ready; I should not have worried. As usual, Bradford was perfectly organized and ready to fire either side as required, even with a short crew at each gun.
I was standing with the gunner’s mate talking when the first bomb vessel fired its explosive shell into the fort, signaling the start of the festivities. I watched through the glass as the gunboats moved into position and saw that the enemy’s polaccas and galleys were leaving the quay to attack. We were supposed to take on the enemy’s boats, not our gunboats. Lawrence had not put the schooner in the right position to do that, and now I would miss that action as well! But, as I looked around me, I saw that Nautilus, Vixen, and the brigs would miss out as well; they were no closer than we were and well beyond the range of their guns from the polaccas and galleys. The gunboats had little choice but to turn and face the approaching corsairs; to continue toward the English Fort and the town would allow the enemy to get behind them and be directly upwind, clearly not an advantageous position.
Firing commenced and built quickly to a warm action between our boats and theirs. The bombs were
now anchored and throwing their deadly missiles into the town, the fort, and the Bashaw’s castle, receiving a brisk return fire from not only the castle, but from the mole, crown, and several batteries nearby. Neither we nor any of the ships with us were able to fire into the town; it was simply too far, and should we attempt to fire at the enemy boats, we ran the risk of hitting our own! It was, then, with a great sense of urgency that the three schooners and two brigs beat to windward in an effort to assist Decatur, Somers, Hobbs, and company with their attack, as well as have some action ourselves.
But then we watched the enemy’s ships withdraw. As soon as our gunboats got to within pistol shot of them, perhaps remembering our previous encounters, the corsairs turned tail and retreated to the safety of the mole, under the guns of Fort English. Our valiant colleagues followed them in, firing grape and canister shot with telling effect. Suddenly, a hail of musket fire was unleashed from the battlements of the very fort I remembered Edward telling me that our sailors had built. They were not firing at us, rather at our gunboats, now well within their range. I was rapt at the events unfolding.
“Mister Baldwin, we will have a broadside at the fort, if you please. Stand by to fire as I bring her head up a bit.” Lawrence’s bellow from the quarterdeck interrupted my reverie, and I quickly stepped to my guns, noticing as I did that Bradford was ready and holding a slow match close to the forward most gun.
“Fire as you bear, men! Give ‘em a taste of American iron!” Lawrence had brought the ship around, followed by Vixen and Syren.
BOOM! BOOM! Syren’s guns roared out first, drowning out the rest of Lawrence’s words and, immediately, Bradford’s first gun echoed their shots. After squinting quickly down my barrels, I shouted, “Fire!” to my acting gun captains, and three more of our cannon spoke, sending their twelve-pound iron shot hurtling into the ramparts of the fort. I was now too busy to notice what our gunboats were up to as we maintained a hot fire of both round and grape shot.
The Greater the Honor Page 38
