Samuel Barron had two things on his mind when he took command of the American Mediterranean Squadron in September 1804. His liver was acting up and threatening his ability to command (of which more anon), and throughout the long voyage to the station he had shared his cabin with persistent, insistent William Eaton.
William Eaton, like many 40-year-old Americans of the day, had begun his political life in the Revolution, starting as a teenage army cook with Connecticut troops and rising to the rank of sergeant by war’s end. With the coming of peace, he took himself to Dartmouth and earned a degree (1790). After teaching and clerking for a few years, he gained a captain’s commission under General “Mad Anthony” Wayne in the Northwest Territories’ Fallen Timbers campaign, where he established himself as energetic, combative, and blindingly self-confident. He subsequently served acrimoniously on the Georgia-Florida border, then went to Philadelphia, where, on the recommendation of Timothy Pickering, he got himself appointed consul to Tunis in 1798. While there, he met the recently deposed Bashaw Hamet Karamanli and hit on a plan to return him to power—a plan in which the first two commanders of the American Mediterranean Squadron took no interest. Returning from Tunis in 1803, Eaton made his views known to the Jefferson administration about the ineffective operations of the first two American squadrons sent in response to the Tripolitan declaration of war. This resulted in his being appointed “Naval Agent to the Barbary States” and charged with liaising with Hamet Karamanli, a weak reed ousted by his brother Yusuf as bashaw of Tripoli in 1796. News that Hamet had fled to Egypt cooled the project, yet Eaton, with no specific authority to treat with Hamet, was allowed to sail with Commodore Barron, whose orders in Hamet’s regard were to “avail yourself of his cooperation . . . against Tripoli—if you shall . . . consider his cooperation expedient.” The administration, seeking peace with Tripoli, never entertained any idea of placing Hamet back in authority as a prerequisite, but Eaton saw it as an opportunity to make a name for himself. By the time the ailing Barron was on station, Eaton had pretty well badgered him into a scheme to employ Hamet and his people against Yusuf.
First on the commodore’s docket, however, was the deployment of the squadron he now commanded. The superceded Edward Preble took the Constitution to Malta, then proceeded by other means to Sicily and Naples to settle his accounts while Stephen Decatur assumed command of the big frigate. Captain John Rodgers, commanding the USS Congress (36 guns) and second senior in the new squadron, soon arrived and, in turn, required the junior Decatur to exchange ships with him. Rodgers subsequently took his new command to Lisbon to winter over in overhaul, while Preble returned to the United States in the light frigate John Adams. Commodore Barron, with his other ships, established a rotating blockade of Tripoli for the winter months, cycling the brigs and schooners that had been so heavily involved in operations during the preceding four months into port for overhaul, rest, and replenishment. He personally made Syracuse his base of operations.
By early November, the new squadron commander and his associates had settled in. A letter from Salvatore Bufutil, Hamet’s agent in Malta, said his master had “a great number of Troops Engaged for the Purpose of Cooperating with the U.S.,” and that he would “repay all money advanced and give over all prizes that may be taken in Deme, Benghazi, or Tripoli, and always remain at peace and friendship.” He added that he thought $10,000 ought to cover the cost of the operation and that the winter sea son was the best time for his “army.” Commodore Barron decided to send Eaton to Egypt to effect juncture with Hamet. The brig Argus (18 guns, Master Commandant Isaac Hull) would carry him thence under cover of orders to proceed to Alexandria to offer convoy protection to such American merchantmen in the area as desired it. She sailed from Syracuse on the evening of 14 November, Eaton having omitted to take his leave of the commodore. From a stop at Malta, he wrote Barron saying he intended to meet Hamet, and, instead of transporting Hamet’s people by sea to the vicinity of Tripoli, as envisioned by the commodore, he intended to march overland to take Deme, the most productive area of the regency, and use it as a base for further advances on Tripoli.
The Argus anchored in Alexandria harbor on 27 November. Egypt at this time was in a state of near chaos. Following the Napoleonic invasion and British counterstroke in the preceding five years, once the Europeans had withdrawn, power was contested among the Turks and Mamelukes, the situation currently compounded by low water in the Nile resulting in a scant harvest and the specter of widespread starvation. The Turks in charge and all the diplomatic community except the French and Spanish consuls welcomed the Americans with warm hospitality. That was the good news. The bad news was that Hamet had allied himself with the Mamelukes, and they currently had been driven up the Nile far above Cairo. Just how to make contact was uncertain. Eaton decided to take his chances and set off on 29 November for Rosetta and points south. Among those accompanying him were his stepson, an Englishman from Malta, two Argus midshipmen, and First Lieutenant Presley Neville O’Bannon, officer in charge of the brig’s Marine Guard.
At Rosetta, it was the resident English diplomat who provided the Americans with necessary aid, assisting them in chartering two river craft in which to proceed to Cairo. During the ensuing trip, the party observed the rapacity of Turks attacking local villages, but was untouched itself. Just below Cairo on 8 December, Eaton was met by carriages and horses sent by the Turkish viceroy, Kurchet Ahmet Pasha, to bring him and his party to the palace. Publicly, they were there sightseeing during the winter stand-down in operations against Tripoli.
For two days, the Americans were paid every attention. When he finally saw the viceroy, Eaton told him directly what he was there for, damning the faithlessness of Bashaw Yusuf and praising the neighborliness of the Turks. It was the right thing to do, for the viceroy said he would locate Hamet and provided a firman (authorization pass) for his eventual passage through Turkish forces to join the Americans. As a token of his goodwill, he presented each of his visitors with a Mameluke sword like that carried by his own troops. Not waiting for the viceroy to act, that night Eaton sent a messenger south from Cairo with a letter for Hamet, telling him of the firman and urging him to meet the American at the home of the British consul in Rosetta.
Eaton’s messenger rode nonstop and reached the Mameluke camp well before the viceroy’s couriers. After impressing the sheik, he advised Hamet how to get himself and his 150 followers clear of the camp without suspicion by offering to ride an armed reconnaissance for the Mamelukes—but never to return. A night or two later, off they rode, and by the time the sheik became suspicious, the drifting sands already had obliterated all signs of their passage.
In the meantime, Captain Hull in the Argus at Alexandria, out of funds and running low on supplies, reported to Eaton by letter that the proposed campaign, whatever its intrinsic merits, was in danger of collapse. The Americans thus were in a period of anxious waiting, with Eaton hanging on as long as possible to hear from Hamet and urging Hull to do likewise. On 8 January, just a week before Hull said he must sail for reprovisioning, Eaton wrote him to say he was about to head south himself to find the ex-bashaw. The very next day, a letter from Hamet arrived announcing his progress north. Eaton and Hamet finally met at Damanhur late in January, by which time the former had been recruiting additional men and hiring horses and camels. His activities aroused the concern of local authorities, but the intercession of British consuls at Rosetta and Alexandria removed any potential roadblocks.
The expedition began assembling at a spot about 11 miles west of Alexandria, and, given its disparate elements, it is a wonder it ever made it past this stage. Political and diplomatic considerations aside, preventing the various sheiks and their followers from wandering away, and assembling weapons, supplies, and transport (camels), was a hectic task that required all of Eaton’s energies. By 19 February, they were almost ready. Eaton himself left the Argus for the last time and joined his “army,” accompanied by Lieutenant O’Bannon with Acting Sergeant Arthur Campbell and Privates Bernard O’Brian, James Owens, Edward Stewart, David Thomas, John Whitten, and one other of the Argus’s Marine guard, and Midshipman Pascal Paoli Peck. On 6 March, the expedition, consisting of men of 11 nationalities amounting to 300 well-mounted Arabs, 70 Alexandrian Christians, the 10 Americans, and a train of 107 overloaded camels and a few asses (of the 180 expected), set off into the desert 500 miles from Deme, their immediate objective. In the meantime, Captain Hull was to sail the Argus to Syracuse for supplies and meet them again at the Gulf of Bomba, just east of Derne. In Tripoli on that day, Bashaw Yusuf appointed Hassan Bey to command an army he would send to the Egyptian border to block Hamet.
Eaton’s main problem, which made itself all too apparent on the very first day, was the indiscipline of the Arabs, which displayed itself both in a straggling march and in the traditional frictions among the several tribes represented. At the first day’s stop, the hoped-for well was found dry and filled with sand. The next morning, the Arabs refused to march, demanding more money. Eaton’s response was to tell them that if they would not commit themselves to the enterprise, he would call it off then and there, and they would get no money at all. They backed down.
Pressing on, by 18 March the force reached the ruin remains of an ancient settlement known as Massouah, having made good a remarkable 20 miles a day or better despite the straggling camel train, bare rations, and little water. From the few Arabs still living there Eaton was able to purchase some cattle, sheep, goats, fowls, skins of butter, dates, and milk, though at prices that threatened his poor purse. But money was again an issue with the Arabs, and despite the fact that Eaton totally expended his remaining funds, over the next two days all of the camel drivers deserted with their beasts. In response, the “general,” for so they were calling him by then, threatened to hole up in the castle ruins with the Americans and Christians, to await the arrival of the Navy, when they would leave the Arabs, unpaid, to do as they wished. The impasse lasted for two days, and then 50 of the camels reappeared. The march along the coast resumed on 20 March.
The column came upon a large encampment of Bedouins two days later, people friendly to Hamet. It was set up in a large fertile area, where the 3,000-4,000 tribesmen were grazing an estimated 50,000 sheep and 10,000 camels, as well as cattle and horses—a paradise after the preceding weeks. For five days, Eaton, Hamet, and company refreshed themselves and found reinforcement. The force that departed the oasis had been augmented by 150 fighting men and 90 camels, not to mention foodstuffs in great variety, most welcome after a bare-bones diet of rice and hardtack.
Hamet had an attack of cold feet when the march resumed, and for a short while it appeared as if the expedition would fall apart. “General” Eaton denounced the Arab and separated his men and the other Christians from the tribesmen, heading west with the supply train. Hamet and company caught up with them about two hours later. According to Hamet, he had had to dissemble to retain control over his people. On 30 March, yet another shortterm mutiny occurred when two sheiks squabbled over money and departed for Egypt with their followers. Hamet and a small party went to get them back while Eaton halted the column and had, in turn, to face down another malcontent with the promise of execution. The fractious group resumed its march on 3 April, all having pledged themselves to Hamet’s cause. Eaton had prevailed.
Marching through increasingly difficult terrain and with food supplies again dwindling to hardtack and rice, on 8 April the column reached a cistern of good water and halted for refreshment. While the troops and animals watered, Eaton took a small party to reconnoiter the way ahead. He returned to find that Hamet had ordered camp set up because he wanted to send a courier ahead to learn whether the U.S. Navy was, indeed, awaiting them at Bomba. Eaton, knowing they were down to only six days’ rations, ordered them withheld, the Marines and Christian mercenaries taking up positions from which to defend them. Two hundred Arab horsemen advanced on the thin line with Eaton, Lieutenant O’Bannon, and Midshipman Peck in front. Despite the many muskets aimed at him, Eaton marched forward alone to face Hamet, and after an angry exchange managed to get the ex-bashaw down off his horse and off to one side to talk. Calm was restored and yet again the “army” was united in its march to Deme.
In another week marked by incipient mutinies and the illness of Hamet, the column finally reached the Gulf of Bomba in the late afternoon to find a deserted village and an empty bay. The exhausted marchers made camp on the hills, lit their fires, and collapsed. The next morning, to everyone’s joy, sails were seen on the horizon: it was the Argus and the sloop Hornet (10 guns, Lieutenant Commandant Samuel Evans).
The joy was shared by Captain Hull, for he had been on the coast for nearly two weeks with no sign of Eaton and no word of what might have happened. After a march farther westward to a point where the shore was suitable for the landing of supplies, by the 20th the welcome foodstuffs, muskets, gunpowder, and money flowed ashore and all seemed ready for the final push on Derne, just 60 miles away. Eaton, Hamet, Hull, and Lieutenant Commandant John H. Dent of the schooner Nautilus laid plans that the warships would come inshore as close as possible and support the land assault, otherwise there would be no artillery support, and it was thought critical. That done, the expedition pushed on, and on 24 April entered a verdant valley along a flowing stream and caught their first sight of trees in 500 miles. There was a final moment of tension when a report was received that Bashaw Yusuf’s relief column might beat them to Derne. The Arabs met all night long and at 0600, when Eaton had the drums beaten for assembly, yet another move at defection occurred. For the rest of the morning, Eaton cajoled and bribed the dissidents back into the fold one more time. At 1400 on 25 April, they reached the heights above Deme, the richest and most beautiful of the regency’s outlying possessions, but there was no sign of the Navy. Looking down, Eaton could see that the landside defenses consisted mainly of firing holes cut into the outer walls of the marginal residences. The town’s principal defenses were the eight nine- pounders facing the harbor and a ten-inch howitzer on the terrace of the governor’s quarters, and possibly 500-800 men. Artillery-less Eaton needed the Navy, but only the newly arriving Nautilus (12 guns) was to be seen.
On the 26th, Eaton sent a message into Deme under a flag of truce demanding access to the town. His letter came back with “My head or yours, Mustifa” scribbled across the bottom by the governor.
The Argus and Hornet turned up as this was transpiring and immediately joined the Nautilus just off the town, Hornet anchoring only 100 yards off the water battery and the others at somewhat greater distances. Their heavy fire, begun at 1400 on the 27th, soon wrecked the crumbling walls and sent the Arab gunners scrambling, some westward through town and others south to join the defenders there.
Eaton had divided his army into two disparate forces. The Christian mercenaries and the Marines in full uniform—about four dozen men—he led himself in an attack against the southeastern part of the town, nearest the water battery. Hamet and his thousand Arabs, many on horseback, were sent swinging around to the southwest to block the broad level exit from the town toward Tripoli. The tiny assault force very nearly was brought to a halt by the reinforced defenders, but Eaton dashed ahead of his men, brandishing a rifle and shouting “Charge!”—and they did. Resistance crumbled like the water battery’s walls and the ships checked fire as they saw their compatriots entering the town. Lieutenant O’Bannon hoisted the Stars and Stripes over the battery, at which point the ships resumed their fire, this time moving it westward through the town and driving defenders before it. The bulk of them kept on going out of town, right into Hamet’s waiting arms. By 1600, or about two hours after the first shot, Deme was secured, an astonishingly easy victory after an incredibly tortuous march. Among the attackers, Eaton himself had been wounded in the left wrist (it would prove a permanent disability), Private Whitten was killed, Private Stewart was mortally wounded and died two days later, and Privates O’Brian and Thomas were wounded but recovered; nine of the Christian mercenaries were casualties. Arab losses on both sides are unknown.
Organizing a defense to meet the expected column from Tripoli became the first order of business. Hamet occupied what had been the governor’s “palace” on the west side of town while Eaton established himself, the Marines, and the Christians in the remains of the water battery. Hamet’s troops were deployed out of town to the south, on both sides of the wadi (a stream bed that generally is dry in all but the rainy season).
The Tripolitan column, 3,000-4000 strong, appeared on 1 May and set up camp on the heights about two miles south of Deme. After two weeks of observing the scene, an attack was made that carried some of the assaulters to Hamet’s residence. Before they could effect its capture, however, artillery fire from Eaton and company decimated some attackers and caused the others to retreat, taking ever greater numbers with them until everyone was back at their original positions. Thus matters stood as May became June and events elsewhere took center stage.
The “long march” is a tribute to William Eaton’s single-minded pursuit of glory and his ability to threaten, cajole, bribe, and even lead people in a campaign in which they had small allegiance. And there is no question that Presley O’Bannon and his few Marines were critical to this operation. Throughout the march, it was they, ever in their blue and red Marine uniforms topped by black felt hats, who ensured William Eaton’s personal safety, provided a focal point for the Christian mercenaries, and rendered cautious any potential troublemakers among Hamet’s Arabs. On his return to the United States, O’Bannon was awarded a sword by his home state, Virginia, and totally ignored by the Corps. Two years later, still a lieutenant, he resigned his commission and entered civilian life, moved to Kentucky, and later served terms in both houses of its legislature. Commandant Archibald Henderson adopted the Mameluke pattern for the official Marine officers’ sword in 1825, a time when it was very popular among the land services of many countries but relatively unknown in America, and with nary a reference to Lieutenant O’Bannon. In the early 20th century, the myth arose that Hamet Karamanli had presented the lieutenant with a bejeweled Mameluke sword, a legend perpetuated to this day as a part of the lore of the Corps. His name has been carried proudly by three destroyers, rightful reminders of his exemplary service.
Sources and assistance:
Heinl, Robert Debs, Jr., Soldiers of the Sea (Annapolis: U.S. Naval Institute), 1962.
Maloney, Linda, The Captain from Connecticut: The Life and Naval Times of Isaac Hull (Boston: Northeastern University Press), 1986.
Smith-Christmas, Kenneth L., Curator, National Museum of the Marine Corps. Tucker, Glenn, Dawn Like Thunder (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc.), 1963.
Walker, Kate Lennon, Librarian and Collections Manager, USS Constitution Museum.