THE END OF THE PIRATES

So far as my fortunes are concerned, I was rid forever of Barbary's corsairs. But, to make my narrative complete, it may be well to state that the end of their piracies was in sight, and that Stephen Decatur was the man who struck the blow that marked the beginning of their end.

The United States had borne these insults and oppressions meekly during the time she was evolving into a nation, but at last, under Decatur, her true spirit showed itself. The Dey of Algiers, the last to affront us, was at length forced to take tribute in the way our naval officers had long wished to deliver it—from the cannon's mouth.

The War of 1812 tempered the spirit of our navy for this closing campaign with the buccaneers of Barbary. The frigate Constitution thrilled the nation by her victory over the British warship GuerriÈre, although the Constitution's captain, Isaac Hull, had to steal out to do battle without the knowledge of the timid Monroe administration, which feared that our ships were no match for the British frigates. Then the United States, commanded by Captain Stephen Decatur, defeated and captured the Macedonian, one of the swiftest and strongest and best-equipped ships in John Bull's navy, and Lieutenant Archibald Hamilton marched into a ball given to naval officers in Washington with the flag of the captured ship across his shoulders.

Then the Constitution met the British frigate Java, and by splendid gunnery reduced her to a burning hulk. Then the British had their innings and Captain Broke, of the Shannon, defeated the chivalrous but over-confident Captain Lawrence in the Chesapeake.

Decatur, with his feathers drooping somewhat from the fact that he had been forced to surrender the President to two British frigates after a hard fight, was sent, after the treaty of peace had been signed, to deal again with the Barbary states, to which we still paid tribute. These powers had grown insolent again when the United States became engaged in war with England and had resumed their piracy. Decatur sailed in the flagship GuerriÈre and commanded a squadron of nine vessels.

Algiers, the chief offender this time, had organized a strong navy under the command of Admiral "Rais Hammida," called "the terror of the Mediterranean." Decatur's squadron sighted this Algerine admiral in his forty-six-gun frigate Mashouda off Cape Gatte, and pursued and captured the Turkish ship. Her captain was killed in the first encounter.

Decatur now proceeded to Algiers to bring the Dey to terms. The captain of the port came out insolently to meet him. "Where is your navy?" demanded Decatur.

"Safe in some neutral port!" retorted the Algerine officer.

"Not the whole of it," Decatur said. "We have already captured the frigate Mashouda and the brig Estido, and Admiral Hammida is dead."

The captive lieutenant of the Mashouda was brought forth to confirm these statements. The Dey's representative became humble and begged that hostilities should cease until a treaty could be drawn up on shore.

"Hostilities will go on until a treaty is made," Decatur replied, "and a treaty will be made nowhere but on board the GuerriÈre!"

The officer came out again the next day and began haggling over terms in true Oriental fashion. Decatur stuck to his terms, which included the release of all Americans held in slavery and the restoration of their property. He demanded an immediate decision, threatening:

"If your squadron appears before the treaty is signed by the Dey and if American captives are on board, I shall capture it."

The port officer left. An hour afterward an Algerine man-of-war appeared. Decatur ordered his officers to prepare for battle. Manning the forts and ships were forty thousand Turks.

Before the squadron got under way, however, the Dey's envoy was seen approaching, flying a white flag—the token of surrender.

All of the terms had been agreed to. We were to pay no further tributes to the pirate prince. Our ships were to be free from interference. Ten Americans that had been held in captivity were delivered up. They knelt at Decatur's feet to thank God for their release and rose up to embrace their flag.

From Algiers, Decatur sailed to Tunis and then to Tripoli, and actually forced their rulers to pay indemnities for breaking, during the period of our war with Britain, the treaties they had made with the United States.

Decatur thus put an end to the attacks of the Moors upon American merchant ships. He had set an example that Britain was soon to follow.

BRITAIN FOLLOWS DECATUR'S LEAD

British consuls and sea-faring men were still being insulted and molested by Moslems. Public indignation in England rose to such a height that the British government sent Sir Edward Pellew, upon whom had been bestowed the title Lord Exmouth, to negotiate similar terms. The fleet sailed first to Tunis and Tripoli and forced the two Beys to promise to abolish Christian slavery. An element of humor came into the situation at Tunis, for Caroline, Princess of Wales, was on a tour of the country, and was not above accepting the hospitality of the Bey, no matter what wrongs to her countrymen went on under the surface. Her entertainment included picnics among the ruins of Carthage and the orange groves of Tunis, to which she was driven in the Bey's coach and six. She was indignant when word reached her that a bombardment from her own fleet threatened to put an end to her pleasures. She sought to interfere, but the Admiral was firm. The Princess took refuge on board one of the English ships; the squadron prepared to attack; but the Bey yielded.

The squadron now proceeded to Algiers. Here the Dey protested so vehemently that the Admiral agreed to the ruler's proposal to send ambassadors to England to lay his case before the final authorities. No sooner had the fleet returned to England than news came of a massacre of Italians under British protection in Bona, by Algerines acting under orders actually given by the Dey while Lord Exmouth was at Algiers.

There was, in the port of Bona, a little to the east of Algiers, a coral fishery carried on under the protection of Britain. Corsicans, Neapolitan and other fishermen came here to gather coral. On the 23rd of May, 1816, Ascension Day, as the fishermen were preparing to attend Mass, a gun was fired from the castle and two thousand Moslem soldiers opened fire on the helpless fishermen and massacred them. Then the English flags were torn to pieces and the British Vice-Consul's house wrecked and pillaged.

Lord Exmouth's squadron, on its way to punish the corsairs for these atrocities, fell in with five frigates and a corvette under the Dutch Admiral, Van de Capellan. All civilized nations had been aroused by the massacre of the Italian coral fishers, and the Dutch were eager to take part in the expedition to punish the murderers. Lord Exmouth welcomed them, and the combined fleets set sail for Algiers.

Lord Exmouth sent a letter ashore to the Dey demanding that the Algerians abolish making slaves of Christians; that they surrender such Christian slaves as they now held; that they restore ransom money exacted from Italian slaves, make peace with Holland, and free the lately imprisoned British Consul, and other English captives. The Dey was allowed three hours in which to reply. No answer came. Lord Exmouth began the battle.

His flagship, Queen Charlotte, led the fleet to the attack. Reaching the left-hand end of the mole, she anchored, thus barring the mouth of the harbor. In this position, her guns could sweep the whole length and breadth of the mole. Up came the Superb, the Minden, the Albion, and the Impregnable. Meanwhile, the foe had opened fire and the Queen Charlotte had replied with three broadsides that ruined the mole's defences and killed five hundred men.

The Dutch squadron and the British frigates came in under a heavy fire and engaged the shore batteries. The Algerian gunboats, screened by the smoke of the guns, came out to board the Queen Charlotte. The Leander, lying beyond the smoke, saw them and sunk thirty-three out of thirty-seven with her batteries.

At last the enemy's guns were silenced. The British and Dutch fleets withdrew into the middle of the bay. The defeated Dey accepted the British terms. The English consul was released. Three thousand slaves were set free; some of these had been in prison for thirty years. The bombardment destroyed part of the house of the American consul Shaler, who, the British afterwards testified, did all in his power to aid the English.

The British squadron gained its victory at the cost of one hundred and twenty-eight men killed and six hundred and ninety men wounded. Lord Exmouth led his men with Nelson-like gallantry. He was wounded in three places, his telescope was knocked from his hand by a shot, and his coat was cut to ribbons. Even this punishment did not entirely crush the corsairs. It was reserved for the French to put an end to their piracies.

But that campaign did not begin until 1830—and my story can not run on forever.