One of the oddest ventures in which our Navy has played its usual brave part was the capture of the city of Derne, in Tripoli, toward the end of the medley of glorious and inglorious events of the first Barbary wars. Two resolute men, one a naval officer who was to make his name famous in the War of 1812, the other bearing the unusual title of naval agent, by energy and determination brought to a successful, if tragic, conclusion a project that from the outset was filled with impossibilities. Moreover, these two, Isaac Hull and William Eaton, set an example of co-operation between land and sea forces that has seldom been equaled.
William Eaton was one of those strange, restless, indomitable men whose lives have lent color and glory to our history. Although much of his achievement was as a diplomat, he was above everything else a man of action. In consequence he cut a swath of tumult through the suave, cowardly hypocrisy of our usual diplomatic relations with the Barbary states. His career there began when we had made just about as big a mess as it was possible for us to contrive in our relations with these pirates. We had been stampeded into purchasing freedom of the sea from Tunis, Tripoli, and Algiers, part of our tribute to the last named actually being, to our shame, a 36-gun frigate whose departure in 1798 is reported by a newspaper of the day:
The Crescent is a present from the United States to the Dey as a compensation for delay in not fulfilling our treaty obligations in proper time. The Crescent has many valuable presents for the Dey, and when she sailed was supposed to be worth at least $300,000. Twenty-six barrels of dollars constituted a part of her cargo.
Into this unhappy condition had not been ratified. Eaton, having shown himself in several affairs to be energetic, courageous, and honest, was being sent as consul to seek better terms.
When he first landed in the city of Tunis, hard by ancient Carthage, everybody up to the bey knew somebody had come to town. Nor was there ever any doubt thereafter. Although John Adams had headed a letter to this same bey as
the most Illustrious and most Magnificent Prince, the Bey, who commands the Odgiac of Tunis, the abode of happiness, and the most honored Ibrahim Dey, and Soliman, Aga of the Janissaries, and Chief of the Divan, and all the Elders of the Odgiac;
although all the diplomatic tribe in Tunis was wont to bow down before the bey, to William Eaton this great potentate was nothing more than a bluffing pirate, much similar to the ruler of Algiers who is somewhat succinctly described as
a huge, shaggy beast, sitting on his rump . . . with his hind legs gathered up like a taylor, or a bear.
Thus irreverently but boldly and honestly Eaton set about his one-man job of handling the pirates who had bulldozed our country. He horsewhipped one intriguer through the streets of Tunis, bearded the bey with a grand bluff that beat this master at his own game, blockaded Tripoli by his word alone, pleaded in his letters home that we use money not for tribute but to build ships of war, made the pirates believe we were doing that, followed unswervingly to the amazed horror of fellow-diplomats his self-expressed policy that “There is but one language which can be held to these people and that is terror.”
It stirs us to read what a single brave man can do. Alone and unprotected, with no hope of being backed up, Eaton drove the bey almost frantic with his fearless opposition, and at the same time found opportunity to intrigue on his own part against the neighboring pirate kingdom of Tripoli. In 1801 the latter had declared war against us for unseemly tardiness in granting increased tribute. Our answer had been a surprising, if half-hearted, change in attitude that brought Commodore Richard Dale’s squadron to the Mediterranean. News of Dale’s arrival and of an impending food shortage in Tripoli had spurred Eaton to a bold move: on his own authority he had declared Tripoli under blockade. What was more, he had those in Tunis so afraid of him that they believed it, and, as far as they were concerned, Tripoli stayed blockaded.
But this was only one of his cards. It so happened that the reigning bey of Tripoli was Yusuf Pasha, an energetic villain who had murdered the rightful ruler, and had banished Hamet Bashaw, the next in line. Unfortunately for Yusuf this Hamet Bashaw was now in Tunis. There he came under the influence of Eaton who built around him an able scheme for conquering Tripoli and deposing Yusuf Pasha. The plan was to land Hamet Bashaw at Derne, 500 miles east of Yusuf’s capital, and with native tribesmen, a couple of field pieces, Dale’s squadron in support, and a few marines to march on Tripoli.
There was sufficient time between intervals of cowing the bey of Tunis for Eaton to advance the plot considerably; but just when his plans were moving favorably Yusuf Pasha offered Hamet the governorship of Derne itself. Hamet, rather foolishly for his neck, was preparing to accept when Eaton got wind of it. After that, as was usual with events influenced by him, affairs had a decided change. Hamet was not only driven into a change of mind, but was shipped off to Malta to await the descent on Derne. Eaton himself in 1803 left for the United States to gain support and money for the plan.
The day of his departure must have been a festal one in Tunis, many a good Mahommedan drawing his first breath of relief in four years. The bey himself gave expression to his satisfaction in the positive, if plaintive, declaration that Eaton was “too obstinate and too violent for me. I must have a consul with a disposition more congenial to Barbary interests.”
The Tripolitan War, with Eaton away, dragged on in a desultory manner. Hamet Bashaw, against Eaton’s desires, actually landed at Derne, made good way against his brother’s forces, and so encouraged Jefferson with one of his letters that he was granted a large store of supplies and money—on paper. Such powerful aid being insufficient, Hamet finally retreated, ending up, as we shall see, in Egypt.
Meanwhile there had occurred the unfortunate loss of the Philadelphia, the glorious climax of her destruction, and Preble’s sound thrashing of the pirates in Tripoli Harbor. At the peak of his success, however, this able, energetic, and unhampered commander fell victim to politics. Irresolute Barron was sent to relieve him and to make peace. The only compensation was that in Barron’s flagship, bent on completing his scheme with Hamet Bashaw, was William Eaton. Although handicapped by our country’s dishonorable instructions to Barron to use Hamet for securing a better treaty and then to cast the poor Turk adrift, Eaton’s enthusiasm was still unconquerable. Moreover, good fortune followed him to one extent in that he soon “removed with baggage” on board the Argus, Captain Hull commanding. No matter the half-heartedness higher up, here was one man who would support him to the limit; here was another of a similar mold. After Eaton himself, Hull’s faithful co-operation is the brightest part of the campaign.
Naval agent and naval captain looking for a deposed Turk—was there ever a stranger naval venture? Barron, lest he commit himself, had given Hull only verbal orders. The latter, however, knowing full well who would be the goat should something miscarry, set the substance down above his and Eaton’s signatures. You are
To proceed with Mr. Eaton to Alexandria in search of Hamet Bashaw … and to convey him and his suit to Derne … The Bashaw may be assured of the support of my squadron at … Derne … and … that I will take the most effectual measures with the forces under my command for co-operating with him against the usurper, his brother, and for re-establishing him in the regency of Tripoli. Arrangements to this effect are confided to the discretion with which Mr. Eaton is vested by the government.
On November 25, 1804, these two determined men, following a rumor, arrived at Alexandria. Hamet was not there, so Eaton headed for “Grand Cairo by Rosetta.” With him went several officers from the Argus including that ubiquitous marine, Lieut. Presley Neville O’Bannon, who is to figure so eminently and so bravely through all of the coming adventures. Hull remained behind in Alexandria, a tower of strength, raising necessary money, quieting the authorities, meeting each request with enthusiasm.
At Grand Cairo Eaton learned that luckless Hamet, having guessed wrong again, had joined the Mameluke uprising and was at the moment besieged with them in upper Egypt.
There followed a conference with the Turkish viceroy. Eaton’s powers of persuasion gained an amnesty and permission for Hamet to pass the Turkish lines. His concluding words, as reported to the secretary of the navy, must have turned the trick:
I replied that an object of distress could not be an object of resentment to an exalted mind; and that it was more like God to pardon than to punish a repenting enemy. By an inclination of his head, he signified assent; and he promised to send couriers in search of Hamet Bashaw; which he has done. So have I.
So had Eaton, indeed! He trusted a Turk about as far as he did a Barbary diplomat.
The weeks passed. Hamet Bashaw did not come, probably because of distrust of the Turkish viceroy. As Eaton comments, “Nothing can be more incredulous than a Turk of a Turk’s honor; and for good reason; nothing can be more equivocal than their plighted faith.” In Alexandria the authorities became impatient. Even Hull’s zealousness was not sufficient to prevent increased suspicion and hostile intrigue.
At last Eaton, fending every discouragement with courage, making a perilous excursion into the desert to meet Hamet, submitting to arrest and confinement as a British spy, frequently risking his life, got hold of the irresolute bashaw and brought him near to Alexandria where Hull was having the devil’s own time keeping the lid down on French intrigue. Despite all efforts, entrance to the city and permission to embark were forbidden Hamet, much to the pleasure of this noble prince. He was not enthusiastic about going anyhow; if the expedition were forced to march by land, he thought the impossibility of it would deter Eaton. But he had failed to measure his man. The Desert of Barca, 600 weary, perhaps impassable, miles, was faced by Eaton with the calm assurance of a man who knows where he is going and intends to arrive. Simply he sets down in his journal of February 16, “We shall therefore take up our line of march through the desert of Lybia towards Derne next Wednesday.”
However, unforeseen difficulties set in. Provisions were seized by the authorities, and Turkish guards
advanced towards the bashaw’s camp. He was alarmed, and with his people, was on the point of flying to the desert. The firm and decided conduct of Mr. O’Bannon prevented their movement. We found the impediments raised to us were occasioned by the influence of the supervisor of the revenue, who had not yet been bought. The day was spent in accommodating the affair.
It was not until March 6 that the expedition at last broke camp and two days afterward at Arab’s Tower, forty miles from Alexandria,
Arranged our caravan and organized our force; which now consisted of nine Americans, including Lieutenant O’Bannon and Mr. Peck, a noncommissioned officer and six private marines; a company of twenty-five cannoniers, commanded by Selim Comb, and Lieutenants Connant and Rocco, and a company of thirty-eight Greeks, commanded by Captain Luco Ulovix and Lieutenant Constantine. The bashaw’s suit consisted of about ninety men . . . These, together with a party of Arab cavalry under the orders of Sheiks il Taiib [Who had already shown his colors by demanding more cash], and Mahamet, and including the footmen and camel drivers, made our whole number about four hundred. Our caravan consisted of camels and a few asses.
Fifteen miles were made good that day. But on the morrow there appeared another of an endless succession of delays:
March 9.—Remained in camp, some difficulties with the owners of the camels and horses hired for the passage. They demanded advanced pay. It was not safe to do it. They became mutinous. March 10.—The camel drivers and footmen who followed the horses revolted and made a stand. The Sheik il Taiib had insinuated a suspicion among them. . . . The bashaw seemed irresolute and despondent. Money, more money, was the only stimulus which could give motion to the camp. The forenoon was consumed. ... I ordered the Christians under arms and feinted a countermarch; threatening to abandon the expedition and their bashaw, unless the march in advance proceeded immediately. This project took effect; the mutiny was suppressed; and we marched twelve miles.
Eaton’s bluff had such good effect that twenty miles were covered the next day and twenty-five the next, across “low sand vallies and rocky, desert plains.”
So this remarkable journey went on. Into the unknown desert with a few Americans and the unruly collection of Greeks, Arabs, and Turks Eaton plunged. Except for the Americans, few of the men could be depended upon. The Arabs, in particular,
Day after day … sat on their haunches and refused to stir unless their pay were increased, and at night they prowled through the camp, a murderous menace to the Christians, and stole everything they could reach, down to the polish on Midshipman Peck’s buttons.
March 18.—Marched fifteen miles to a castle called by the Arabs Masroscah: an extensive plain valley, surrounded in the rear and flanks by a stony desert, and in front by white sand drifts of great height.
Here in the middle of the desert, with no place to turn,
I now learned, for the first time, that our caravan was freighted by the bashaw only to this place, and that the owners had received no part of their pay. No persuasion could prevail on them to proceed.
The situation became desperate. Eaton’s former threats were of no value now. He could neither go forward nor back without the caravan, nor could he stay where he was. Finally borrowing from the others and reducing his own “stock of cash to three Venetian sequins,” he paid the caravan chiefs who
Promised to proceed two days’ march ahead. But, the same night, all except forty of them drew off for Egypt; and the others refused to proceed, leaving us in a perplexed and embarrassed situation …
March 20—Last night the rest of the camels left us, to return to Egypt. I now discovered a complot between the Sheik il Taiib and sundry other chiefs, at which I thought the bashaw connived, purporting a resolution to proceed no further.
Thus trouble increased. Like rats from a stricken ship the expedition was being deserted. And matters grew worse:
A report had been started … that a force consisting of eight hundred cavalry and numerous foot were on their march from Tripoli for the defense of Derne, and were actually passed Bengazi. I thought this an argument that urged acceleration rather than delay. A great deal of noise and some counsel were heard among the bey’s chiefs … and a final resolution taken that they would remain on the spot till a runner could go to Bomba and return.
Presumably this was to learn if Hull had arrived. Actually, as Eaton well knew, it meant giving up the expedition entirely if he once allowed their indecision and hesitation to better him. So he met high-handed means with higher ones.
I ordered their rations stopped, and resolved myself to take possession of the castle and fortify myself there until I could get intelligence to our naval detachment to come to our relief … It was now twelve o’clock at night. I left the Arab chiefs in the bashaw’s tent, confused and embarrassed, and retired to my own markee and reflections.
The stars shone white and cold over the stony, sandy barren rolling away in all direction. The rough square of the castle, the ruins of the ancient Greek civilization still persisting in the desolation, a few Arab tents, were bleak shadows on the plain. Eaton’s heart must have been bleaker as he strode along through the night musing over his shattered plans. But no such feeling shows in the rest of the journal for that day as set down by this resolute, remarkable man:
We have marched a distance of two hundred miles, through an inhospitable waste of world without seeing the … tracks of man, except where superstition has marked her lonely steps over burning sands …
And they would continue to march, until he had achieved his indomitable purposes of “liberation of three hundred Americans from the chains of Barbarism, and manly peace.”
As far as the journal reveals, he still holds unlimited confidence in the venture. In face of certain failure such assurance must have been beyond the comprehension of the Arabs. Even they must have admired it, for on “March 21.—The position taken yesterday had its effect.” Not only did the chiefs agree to go on themselves, but they got back fifty of the camels. The following day’s march brought them to the camping place of several thousand Arabs who crowded around Eaton’s men, they being “the first Christians ever seen by these wild people.”
March 23.—Continued in camp. Eighty mounted warriors joined the bashaw: all appear attached to him, but we want the means to engage their services. Cash, we find, is the only deity of Arabs, as well as Turks.
March 25.—Forty-seven tents of Arabs joined us with their families and movables. In this detachment are one hundred and fifty warriors on foot. The Arabs of this place have never seen bread. On first offering them biscuit, they examined it carefully; and, breaking it with their shepherds club or hatchet, tasted it with symptoms of hesitation; finding it palatable they sought every means to obtain it from us. They are peculiarly fond of rice. A woman offered her daughter to my interpreter for a sack of it: and the girl consented to the traffic. She was a well-proportioned, handsome brunette of about thirteen or fourteen years, with an expressive hazel eye, inclining to black, arched eye brows, perfect teeth, and lips formed for voluptuousness. A bargain would have been concluded if my consent could have been accorded; prudence forbade it.
March 26.—A courier from Derne, in the interest of the bashaw, brings intelligence that five hundred of Joseph (Yusuf) Bashaw’s cavalry, accompanied by great numbers of Arabs, both horse and foot, were a few days’ march from that place, and would certainly arrive before it would be possible that we could. The alarm excited by this information arrested our motions.
Camel drivers and caravan fled. Hamet, willy-nilly, was ready to follow them. His Arabs started for Egypt. Eaton again met the situation by cutting off their rations. Everyone was despondent. Sheik il Taiib refused to go farther until certain information gave the American ships at Bomba. Eaton called him a liar, traitor, and general trouble-maker, whereupon, hurt by the truth,
He quit the camp in a rage, swearing by all the force of his religion to join us no more. The bashaw would have sent an officer to pacify him and bring him back. I objected. And he took himself off with a small detachment of his tribe.
The Sheik induced other of the Arabs to turn back, but Eaton somehow got what was left of the caravan under way for Derne. Not long and “a messenger came from the Sheik to assure us that he had taken up his march” for Egypt. Eaton ignored him; so
At twelve o’clock another messenger. “The Sheik il Taiib will join if the camp halt seasonably.” The bashaw desired, and we halted at half past twelve. About an hour and half after, the sheik hove in sight with his party: soon after came up; and presenting himself at my markee, with visible chagrin in his countenance, said, “You see the influence I have among these people!”
Eaton had crushed this major insurrection. But a more serious one, led by the bashaw himself came on with the next dawn.
March 28.—I perceived a manifest reluctance in the bashaw to advance, and evident calculations for a retrograde march. Joseph Bashaw’s forces had seized on all his nerves. He now . . . drew off his Mahometans, and stood balancing .... High words ensued. I ordered the march in front. The bashaw retrograded. We proceeded in front with the baggage. The bashaw came up in about two hours; and, making us some compliments for our firmness, said, he was obliged to dissemble an acquiescence in the wishes of his people to render them manageable.
That evening the latest recruits, influenced by Sheik il Taiib, folded their tents like the Arabs they were and stole away toward Egypt. Emissaries effected their return but hardly had the caravan got under way two days later before another group left. These were so important that Hamet himself went after them. Eaton writes with justifiable disgust as he settles down for another long delay:
From Alexandria to this place we have experienced continual altercations, contentions, and delays among the Arabs. They have no sense of patriotism, truth nor honor; and no attachment where they have no prospect of gain, except to their religion, to which they are enthusiasts. Poverty makes them thieves, and practice renders them adroit in stealing . . . With all their depravity of morals they possess a . . . scrupulous pertinacity to their religious faith .... Day before yesterday I was admitted . . . within the walls of their castle. Curiosity brought every Arab about me … They examined the lace of my hat, epaulettes, buttons, spurs, and mounting of my arms. These they took to be all gold and silver. They were astonished “that God should permit people to possess such riches who followed the religion of the devil!”
My interpreter explained that the religion of the Americans was different from that of all other nations who wore hats … that we believed in God and respected all his revelations; that we made no distinction in our respect to people of Different creeds; all were free with us to worship God as their consciences dictated; and that all honest men were equally respected in America. They could hardly comprehend this description of Christians any where existed. He added that I was a good man, and a great friend to Mussulmen … They lamented that so good a man should go to hell … I should escape hell and to the paradise of Mahomet if I would only repeat one word after them, Allah Allah Mahummed Benallah … I answered, that in America, we made no account of a religion which consisted only in words. God had promised us a heaven distinct from that of Papists and Mussulmen, where we should admit all good men … They doubted my story. I told them I had assurance myself of being well received and civilly treated by those opposite prophets, as I had very many friends among the followers of both. They smiled at this idea; but confessed they should be very glad to see me in their paradise; though they doubted whether Mahomet would permit me to come there even on a visit, unless I confessed him and became a true believer.
There was tremendous self-control in this man. In the midst of bitter disappointments he was constantly setting down keen observations on many subjects; and just as quickly turning back to action, as we see on another day before Hamet’s return. Sheik il Taiib was again on the point of stirring up mutiny. The journal very tensely records the events that followed: “He said, with a menacing tone, ‘Remember you are in a desert, and a country not your own. I am a greater man here than either you or the bashaw.’ I retorted … ‘Leave my tent! But mark; if I find a mutiny in camp during the absence of the bashaw, I will put you to instant death …’”
Eaton was not tall, but as he stood up, his eyes blazing, something of their penetrating blueness must have reached down to the sheik’s soul. Although he rode angrily away, late that afternoon “He came to my tent: professed eternal obligations and attachment: and hoped that an opportunity would offer to him at Derne to convince me that he was a man!”
Hamet returned the following day successful in his mission. That evening Eaton addressed him and all the sheiks, exhorting
Them, as on other instances of disagreement, to union and perseverance … to which they gave pledges of faith and honor; and orders were accordingly given to resume the line of march at reveille beating tomorrow.
The pledges were forgotten by noon the next day; but the caravan did progress forward, frequently past vast sand-drifted masonry ruins, whose cement “resembles exactly that in the ruins of Carthage.” Each day through this desolate land there was altercation and rebellion; each day, wearying delay until provisions ran low and strength with them. Now, about 150 miles from Derne there creeps in a new ugly note:
April 6.—We find no water this night.
April 7.—Marched at 6:00 a.m. ascended the mountain, and marched on its summit, eighteen miles in front. At four afternoon halted in a valley, where we found excellent feet for our horses, but no water.
Except for a little saline and nauseous slime the horses had not drunk for nearly four days. Fortunately a pool of rain water at the bottom of a ravine at last proved “a precious repast to our thirsty pilgrims.” But this was also the place where disaster almost overcame the expedition. Eaton had gone to reconnoiter with the intention of resuming the march as soon as all were rested. “But, during my absence, the bashaw ordered the camps pitched,” professing as his reason the need of repose. It was apparent, “however that his real intention was to remain on this ground until a courier should return, which he was about to dispatch to Bomba in quest of our vessels. We had only six days’ rations of rice; no bread nor meat and no small rations.” With little water and less food it was imperative that the caravan proceed. Hamet remonstrated. Eaton again used his most effective weapon: “I told him if they preferred famine to fatigue they might have the choice; and ordered their rations stopped.”
Hamet belligerently started his Arabs toward the desert. Some of them attempting to seize the provisions, “I beat to arms.”
For an hour the two forces faced each other. Then an attack was precipitated.
A body of about two hundred advanced in full charge upon our people, who stood their ground motionless. The enemy withdrew at a small distance, singled out the officers, and with deliberate aim, cried—fire! Some of the bashaw’s officers, exclaimed, “for God’s sake do not fire! The Christians are our friends.” Mr. O’Bannon, Mr. Peck, and young Farquhar, stood firmly by me, Selem Aga ... his lieutenants and the two Greek officers, remained steadfast at their posts. The others were agitated, and in fact abandoned us. I advanced towards the bashaw and cautioned him against giving countenance to a desperate act. At once a column of muskets were aimed at my breast.
The next few minutes were tumultuous,but in the end even this rebellion broke down before the steady blue eyes of this remarkable man. The Arabs were like children before him, even the wildest, one minute in revolt the next acquiescing to his unbending will. Hamet ended by calling him his friend and protector, and by enthusiastically hugging Mr. O’Bannon, rough, tough lieutenant of marines. Of the latter’s brave support Eaton writes:
The firm and decided conduct of Mr. O’Bannon, as on all other occasions, did much to deter the violence of the savages by whom we were surrounded, as well as to support our own dignity of character.
Eaton, Hull, and O’Bannon! it would take more than scheming politicians, a desert, and mutinous Arabs to turn such a group from their course. Arab legend must still tell with awe of these courageous men, Shiek Eaton, Sheik O’Bannon, and Sheik of the Many Ships, who feared neither devil nor man, thirst nor hunger, rifle, bashaw, nor desert.
At the end of this trying day Eaton closes his journal with the simplicity of the man whose will is so inflexible and purpose so clear that only what he has determined can come to pass. Very calmly he writes: “We have a difficult undertaking.”
Driven by his will the caravan moves on. Their great need for water is again satisfied except that “In this cistern we found two dead men; probably pilgrims murdered by the Arabs. We were obliged nevertheless to use the water.”
Now there is “Nothing but rice and water for subsistence and that at half rations.” Even the heretofore loyal cannoniers threaten revolt unless they have more food. Although Bomba is hardly forty miles off, these become the most desperate days of the venture. The endless strain of the long march is breaking down even the Arabs. Water is scarce. Food, which has been short for a week, now cannot be had at all.
April 12.— ... camped on an eminence where there was neither water nor fuel. The residue of our rice issued today; but the troops were obliged to eat it without cooking. Such of the Arab tribes as moved with their families camped five miles in the rear; being unable to come up, exhausted by fatigue and hunger.
April 13.—Marched seven and a half miles. Hunger and fatigue rendered the foot soldiers and Bedouin families unable to pursue the march. The bashaw killed and issued one of his camels of burthen . . . ,
ever the last resort of desert peoples.
Famished, worn out, the “people this day scattered throughout the plain in search of root and vegetable substances to appease the cravings of hunger.” At last, about 4:00 p.m., April 15, they arrived at long-sought Bomba to find—nothing. The bay was empty. “But what was my astonishment,” Eaton exclaims, “to find at this celebrated port not the foot-trace of a human being, nor a drop of water. And what my mortification to find no vessels here.”
All that had gone before was dwarfed by the anger of the Arabs now. Eaton declared he was sure the ships had been at Bomba and had left “in despair of our arrival.” Nothing, however, “could prevail on our Arabs to believe that any had been there. They abused us as impostors and infidels; and said we had drawn them into that situation with treacherous views.”
It was a bitter and tense moment. Eaton, as usual, suggested the boldest solution, recommending “an attempt to get into Derne.” But his cards were played. Even his resolution had met the impossible. The Arabs prepared to flee into the desert. Eaton, a fighter to the end, drew off his Christians to a mountain top and lighted signal fires. The anxious night passed … but the sea was still empty at dawn. The venture was ended. An irresistible will had lost to fate.
Poor army captain, consul, naval agent—fate has been too much for you. The great scheme has crashed. One of the most remarkable marches in history has led to futility. Your iron nerve has overcome a desert, has incredibly held together and driven on bands of shiftless Arabs, has won—only to end in disaster on a mountain top in the midst of barren sands. There is neither food nor water; the hostile desert stretches in all directions; to the rear it is 500 now truly impassable miles to Alexandria; across the sands ahead is overwhelming enemy. What do you, tireless, resistless, resolute, think as you look into the empty sea?
There is no record. Calmly, as if he knew even in ruin the supremacy of his soul over fate, Eaton relates: “At eight the next morning, at the instant when our camp was about breaking up, the bashaw’s casnadar, Zaid, who had ascended the mountain for a last lookout, discovered a sail!” But he does allow himself one terse moment of joy: “It was the Argus. Captain Hull had seen our smokes, and stood in. Language is too poor to paint the joy and exultation which this messenger of life excited in every breast.”
After a long wait, Hull had left just the day before Eaton’s arrival. Far at sea, out of sight of those on land, as headed away from Bomba he had seen the smoke on the mountain top and had turned back.
The Hornet soon followed the Argus, with provisions, and stomachs followed hearts in gladness. Then on April 23 the caravan commenced the last short leg of the journey to Derne.
At the end of the way, with the goal almost in sight, the Arabs struck one last time for more money. “After much persuasion, some reproach, and a promise of two thousand dollars to be shared among the chiefs, they were prevailed on to advance: and at two o’clock, p.m. we camped on an eminence which overlooks Derne.”
Thus casually Eaton describes the end of this remarkable journey. His mind was on other things than past achievements as he looked down on Derne. Although much had been accomplished, much was yet to be done. The city was well protected by batteries and breastworks; eight hundred soldiers defended it. Moreover, “Joseph Bashaw’s army was just at hand. I thought the bashaw wished himself back to Egypt. No vessels in sight today.
Hull had been driven off by adverse winds, but soon came up. Eaton decided to attack the city at once despite, or because of, the governor’s reply to his demand for surrender, “My head or yours.”
At 6 in the morning of the 27th, the Argus and Hornet appeared and stood in. I immediately put the army in motion, and advanced towards the city. A favorable land breeze enabled the Nautilus and Hornet to approach the shore, which is a steep and rugged declivity of rocks. With much difficulty we landed, and drew up the precipice one of the fieldpieces; both were sent in the boat for the purpose, but the apprehension of losing this favorable moment of attack induced me to leave one on board. We advanced to our positions. A fire commenced on the shipping. Lieutenant Evans stood in, and, anchoring within one hundred yards of the battery, opened a well-directed fire. Lieutenant Dant dropped in and anchored in position to bring his guns to bear on the battery and city. And Captain Commandant Hull brought the Argus to anchor a little south of the Nautilus, so near as to throw her 24-pound shot quite into the town.
This excellent naval support was supplemented by equally good dispositions on shore. The faithful Christians of the march under our friend Mr. O’Bannon were stationed opposite the strongest part of the enemy’s redoubts. To make a show of force Hamet’s Arab cavalry was spread out on the plain back of the town.
A little before 2:00 p.m. the fire became general in all quarters where Tripolitans and Americans were opposed to each other. In three-quarters of an hour the battery was silenced, but not abandoned; though most of the enemy withdrew precipitately from that quarter and joined the party opposed to the handful of Christians with me, which appeared our most vulnerable point. Unfortunately the fire of our fieldpiece was relaxed by the rammer being shot away. The fire of the enemy’s musketry became too warm, and continually augmenting. Our troops were thrown into confusion; and, undisciplined as they were, it was impossible to reduce them to order.
Is the battle to be lost here? It can be won nowhere else, for Hamet’s troops are awaiting the outcome at this point before risking their own necks. Eaton’s answer is as always; courage! Characteristically and resolutely he meets the issue:
I perceived a charge our dernier and only resort. We rushed forward against a host of savages more than ten to our one. They fled from their coverts irregularly, firing in retreat from every palm tree and partition wall in their way. At this moment I received a ball through my left wrist which deprived me of the use of the hand, and of course of my rifle. Mr. O’Bannon, accompanied by Mr. Mann of Annapolis, urged forward with his marines, Greeks, and such of the cannoniers as were not necessary to the management of the fieldpiece; passed through a shower of musketry from the walls of houses; took possession of the battery; planted the American flag upon its ramparts; and turned its guns upon the enemy; who, being now driven from their outposts, fired only from their houses, from which they were soon dislodged by the whole fire of the vessels, which was suspended during the charge, being directed into them. The bashaw soon got possession of the bey’s palace; his cavalry flanked the flying enemy; and a little after four o’clock we had complete possession of the town. . . . The bey took refuge, first in a mosque, and then in a hiram, the most sacred of sanctuaries among the Turks; and is still there: but we shall find means to draw him thence. As he is the third man in rank in the kingdom he may perhaps be used in exchange for Captain Bainbridge.
The objective has been gained, five months from the November afternoon the Argus had sailed into Alexandria—and just ahead of the relieving army which is only fourteen hours march away. The casualties had been heavy among the small body of Christians, fourteen killed and wounded. All had fought well, especially Mr. O’Bannon who as always showed himself an “intrepid, judicious, and enterprising officer.” But now comes the anticlimax, an unpleasant commentary on our country. During the next two months that Eaton holds Derne, frequently engaging Yusuf Bashaw’s army in battle, peace negotiations are being carried out by Barron and Tobias Lear. Knowing Yusuf’s precarious position, Eaton pleads against making peace. “Be assured,” he writes, “we want only cash and a few marines to proceed to Tripoli.” It has become apparent that he will not be heeded when these wistful remarks are set down:
During the alarm, a detachment from the garrison, under command of Lieutenant O’Bannon passed through town. Everybody, age and childhood, even women from their recluses shouted, “Live the Americans! Long live our friends and protectors!” Hapless beings! If they could descry the reverse that probably awaits them, how justly would their acclamations of confidence be turned to execrations.
Despite his earnest pleas, peace was made, and a very dishonorable one in which we paid the pirate bey $60,000 for the privilege of ending a war we had ah ready won. The treaty was signed on June 3. The news of it reached Eaton on the eleventh, just after Hamet’s forces had soundly thrashed his brother’s army.
Sadly Eaton brought the news Hamet. To prevent trouble from the abandoned inhabitants he kept up appearances of planning another attack.
In the mean time all the Constellation’s boats were laid alongside our wharf. I ordered the captain of the cannoniers to embark his company … and after them the Greek company. This was executed with silence and alacrity; but with astonishment. The marines remained at their posts … I sent a messenger to the bashaw requesting an interview. Understanding the purport of this message, he immediately repaired to the fort with his retinue ... and embarked in the boats. The marines followed … When all were securely off, I stepped into a small boat … and had just time to save my distance when the shore, our camp, and the battery, were crowded with the distracted soldiery and populace; some calling on the bashaw; some on me; some uttering shrieks; some execrations … ! and prepared themselves for flight.
Thus pitifully ended a magnificent venture, just when we were concentrating in the Mediterranean a force three times as strong as that Preble had in his exploits.
And such is the transient quality of glory that only as short a while afterward as 1817 an Italian traveler in his narrative of a journey from Tripoli to Derne, offers this excellent information:
The United States of America were at one period desirous of forming an establishment at Derne, which they offered to purchase of the pasha of Tripoli; but their offer being rejected, and some misunderstanding having taken place upon other grounds, they forcibly seized it. Not long afterwards, however, from what motives I could not learn, they suddenly deserted from their enterprise and quitted the place, leaving behind them a battery with six pieces of cannon, and a water-mill which is still in use, and gives rise to much stupid wonder in such of our barbarians as happen to approach it.