I
A treeless, parched, sun-beaten caravan route stretches along the base - of the Libyan plateau on which a British and an Italian army recently engaged in a campaign that may decide the present World War. To Americans it all seems so exotic, so far away. And yet the setting is one in which an American once played for high stakes, served his country well—and has been all but forgotten.
A picturesque character was William Eaton, the kind that can flourish only in the untrammeled atmosphere of the New World. A Connecticut Yankee, born on a farm near Woodstock in 1764, his first experience in military matters was in the Revolutionary Army. Running away from home, he enlisted at the age of sixteen and was mustered out at the close of the war a sergeant. Of a studious turn of mind, he next worked his way through Dartmouth College and in 1792, two years after his graduation, secured a commission in the United States Army. After six years of stormy service he was appointed Consul to Tunis and in December, 1798, sailed for his post, “the Well-guarded City, the Abode of Felicity.”
Eaton had hardly presented his credentials to the Bey of Tunis, whom he described as “a huge shaggy beast sitting on his rump,” than he discovered that the felicity of that potentate had been thoroughly disturbed by the unending stream of “presents” the United States was showering on his neighbor, the Dey of Algiers, in the hope of securing immunity from the depredations of the Algerine corsairs. Eaton remedied matters by negotiating a treaty with the Bey which although similar to that enjoyed by the Dey was less onerous in its terms.
In Tripoli, however, our Consul, James L. Cathcart, was less fortunate. He negotiated a treaty with the Bashaw, to be sure, but when the Tripolitan ruler learned that the terms granted him were less favorable than those the Dey had secured he repudiated his agreement and demanded $250,000 down and $20,000 annually. Not meeting with prompt compliance, the Tripolitans on May 10, 1801, cut down the flagstaff on the American Consulate, the usual mode of declaring war in the Barbary States. A Tripolitan squadron commanded by a renegade Scotchman, Peter Lisle, sailed for the Atlantic to prey on American shipping.
The timid attitude of our government so disgusted Eaton that he was on the point of resigning from the consular service when the war with Tripoli broke out. How to further the action of the fleet we had sent to the Mediterranean was now Eaton’s concern. The blockade of Tripoli was getting us nowhere; nor were the periodic bombardments. Eaton soon hit on a scheme that was little short of genius, and incidentally sound strategy.
The Bashaw of Tripoli, Yussuf, had succeeded his father by the usual method of making away with his brothers. Hasan, the eldest, was promptly murdered. Hamet, the next in line of succession, managed to escape to Tunis where he was living at the time of Eaton’s arrival. He seems to have been a peaceful, retiring soul, not the type to undertake the conquest of a throne. Eaton, however, had energy and courage for two. He struck up a friendship with Hamet and endeavored to instill in him a desire for revenge. “Now see here, Hamet, I’m your friend,” to quote his own account of the adventure, “and I’m going to put you back on your throne if you will only say the word.” At the same time he expounded his plan to James Madison, then Secretary of State. “We need but cash and a few marines!”
After considerable haranguing Hamet finally said the word and Eaton left for a much-needed vacation in Italy. On his return he found that Hamet had changed his mind. Brother Yussuf had learned of the plan and had bought Hamet off by promising him the governorship of Derne. All that Hamet needed was a pass from Eaton to go through the American blockade. Eaton, however, soon got Hamet back in line by telling him that all his brother wanted was to get him where he could conveniently cut his throat. In the meantime, Eaton had gone into debt to the tune of $23,000 fomenting the insurrection that was to put Hamet on the throne of his fathers and thereby accomplish what we had vainly been striving for with blockades and bombardments.
To further complicate matters the Bey of Tunis had suddenly been persuaded by his good cousin of Tripoli that in harboring Hamet he was guilty of an unfriendly act. The Bey accordingly cut off the allowance he had been giving the rightful heir. Eaton thereupon shipped his protégé to Malta and decided to go back to the United States to get his accounts passed by the State Department and to press his plan for creating a backfire in Tripoli. Commodore Morris called at Tunis on March 10, 1803, to fetch Eaton and was promptly arrested for the latter’s debts, an incident that did not increase Eaton’s popularity with the Navy.
On reaching Washington, Eaton presented his accounts and his plan of action and then went home to spend the summer with his family while the State Department mulled over his accounts and the Navy Department picked flaws in his plan. In January he returned to the capital. Congress was now considering both accounts and plan. While matters were thus hanging fire astonishing news reached Washington. Soon Decatur’s name was on everybody’s lips. Our Navy was demonstrating its ability to conduct sustained operations far from home. The United States had become a naval power over night. What was more astonishing, Eaton was apparently not the wild schemer he was supposed to be. Hamet had landed at Derne and inflicted a defeat on brother Yussuf.
President Jefferson thereupon decided to send Hamet some much-needed supplies, a few pieces of artillery, and $40,000 in cash. Eaton was appointed Navy Agent to the Barbary States. Unfortunately, before he could get started for his new post disquieting news reached Washington. Hamet had been defeated and compelled to retire to Alexandria. Eaton was nevertheless dispatched on an ill-defined mission to Hamet. He had no illusions on the role he was to play. If successful he would be recognized, if unsuccessful he would be disavowed.
II
In June, 1804, Eaton sailed for the Mediterranean with Commodore Barron, who was being sent out to relieve Commodore Preble. It was not until December 8 that he finally reached Cairo and attempted to get in touch with Hamet, who, with a few adherents, had taken part in one of the periodic uprisings of the Mamelukes and was somewhere in Upper Egypt. The only reinforcements he brought were nine Americans, six of whom were marines. The marines were “few,” as can be seen. Fortunately he brought some cash.
Kipling once described the American as one who “turns a keen untroubled face home to the instant need of things.” Eaton was to have ample opportunity of living up to that definition. In view of the responsibilities he was about to assume it is not surprising that the sights of Egypt left him cold. He found the crocodiles inferior to our alligators, and as for the pyramids they “disgusted” him as monuments of the “superstition, pride, and folly of their founders.” The first matter to arrange was to secure a pass from the Turkish Viceroy for Hamet and his release by the Mamelukes. After some difficulty this was accomplished and on February 5, 1805, Eaton and Hamet met and arranged their fantastic Anabasis, the 400-mile trek across the Desert of Barca.
How did Eaton account for the lack of visible American support? Probably by emphasizing the assistance the fleet would furnish. On March 8 the advance began. The Hametian forces consisted of 107 camels, a troop of Arab Horse, 90 of Hamet’s personal escort, 38 Greeks and 2 officers, 2 American naval officers, a noncommissioned officer and the 6 marines, an English surgeon picked up in Alexandria, Hamet himself, and last but not least “General” Eaton; about 400 persons all told.
Before 24 hours had elapsed the camel drivers struck for more pay. On March 18 they struck again. Failing to secure their exorbitant demands they deserted in a body. Fifty, however, returned the next day and the march was resumed. On the 22d the expedition came upon three Arab tribes who had never seen a Christian. Eaton persuaded them to join him, thereby securing 90 camels and some much-needed food. From now on, however, he had to drag an Arab village along with him. On the 26th a courier arrived from Derne with the news that Yussuf’s army was advancing on that city and would probably arrive there before Eaton. Now Arabs as well as camel drivers began deserting. Most of them fortunately straggled back within the next few days. On April 8 a serious incident occurred. Hamet had sent ahead to ascertain whether the American squadron was off the coast, having grown suspicious that perhaps Eaton had overstated the cooperation the Navy would render. Both men lost their tempers and an ugly row seemed imminent when news was brought in that the American squadron was at Bomba. “We have a difficult undertaking,” the American Xenophon calmly noted in his journal.
Finally on the 15th the expedition reached Bomba. Not a ship in sight! Eaton had spent his last sequin and eaten his last grain of rice. The next morning the Hornet and the Argus, having seen his campfires, returned to port. Eaton gave a sigh of relief. On the 23d the march was resumed and on the 27th the force was before Derne. So were the Argus, the Hornet, and the Nautilus. The American vessels began a spirited bombardment of the fortifications. Eaton boldly put himself at the head of the Greeks and the 6 marines and charged. By four o’clock for the first and only time in history the Stars and Stripes were flying over an African citadel. Eaton had lost only 14 men but had himself been wounded. While recuperating in Derne news reached him that Yussuf’s army was approaching. On May 13 the Tripolitans attacked. It took Eaton until June 10 to drive them off. Now, on to Tripoli!
But wait! On the 11th the Constellation was seen entering the harbor. She brought dispatches. Peace, and none too satisfactory a peace, had been signed with Yussuf on the 4th. The war was over and Eaton was told to disband his army. In spite of his success his government was letting him down, thereby losing a unique opportunity of teaching the other rulers of the Barbary States a salutary lesson. How could Eaton break the news to Hamet, Hamet who had trusted him, who had believed him when he said the United States would see him through. Hamet, however, took matters with Moslem fatalism. All he now asked was safety for himself and his followers. The instant need of things was pressing. If the Arabs got an inkling of the situation Eaton’s life was not worth the small change he had left in his purse. So the army was drilled as if the march on Tripoli were to be resumed. Then in the dead of night, “with silence and alacrity, but with astonishment,” to quote Eaton’s journal, the Greeks, Hamet, and 15 of his suite were rowed with muffled oars to the American squadron.
Suddenly the sleeping city awoke. A frantic rush to the water front. Eaton Pasha and his Americanos, where are they? Gone! Dogs of unbelievers, they have abandoned us! Curses and imprecations rent the air. Then a mad dash for the hills, camels and pack animals mingling with screaming women and howling children. Eaton sorrowfully watched the spectacle from the last boat. “This moment we drop them from ours into the enemy’s hands,” he noted, “for no other crime than too much confidence in us!”
The epilogue is quickly told. A munificent allowance of $250 a month was awarded Hamet by Congress. For a while he lived in Syracuse, then, as a result of our intercession, he was given the governorship of Derne. Eaton’s prediction, however, was soon verified. Two months later he fled for his life to Egypt where he shortly died in poverty. He seems to have borne Eaton no ill will, since he presented him with a sword, subsequently adopted as a model by the officers of our Marine Corps, and corresponded with him until his death.
As for Eaton it was not until 1807 that his accounts were finally approved, but by then his testimony at the trial of Aaron Burr had put the government under heavy obligations to him. His services in Tripoli apparently had not. Massachusetts gave the “Hero of Derne” 10,000 acres which he sold for fifty cents an acre. He died in 1811, the typical old retired army officer, who over his tipple in the tavern perorates on his services, which in his case were indeed hard to exaggerate, and on the ingratitude of republics, which is also hard to exaggerate.
It would be a mistake to assume that Eaton’s adventure was merely one more chapter in the long and colorful struggle between western civilization and Mediterranean piracy. Eaton had pricked a bubble. The Barbary navies, to be sure, still had a nuisance value. As late as 1825 Denmark, Portugal, and Naples were paying tribute. The ingenuity of a Yankee Consul had, however, opened a breach in the tottering structure of Barbary power. William Eaton had made Mediterranean piracy an anachronism.