Home of the Brave

by D P Prouty

  I looked up and saw that we were flying the British flag; the captain must have ordered it raised as soon as he saw the foreign ship.

  He leaned over to Lieutenant Baker, “Have your marines keep out of sight behind the gunwale.” He paused a moment, looked through his glass again, then added, “And have them prepared to fire at my command.” Lieutenant Baker acknowledged as the marines readied their weapons. The captain turned to the remaining officers on deck, “Gentlemen, we can outmaneuver these pirates, but they will likely have more cannons and men, we cannot allow him to board until we’ve reduced his number. Cut all grappling lines as soon as they attach, make good use of the pikes. We’ll fire round shot first to disable some of their guns, then fire grapeshot at boarders as necessary when they form, understood?”

  “Aye aye, sir,” we replied.

  “Then get to your stations, gentlemen.” The captain seemed to enjoy the anticipation of the moment and he could hardly disguise his smile which he was trying to repress.

  I ran to my station on the starboard cannons and ensure they were prepared. I felt a strong sense of pride as well as the familiar anxiety to stand firm in the face of fire, knowing eyes would be watching my lead. We loaded up round shot and stood ready. I put one piece of cotton in one ear and left the other to hear the order to fire, then just waited.

  The Enterprise slowly approached the Tripolitan ship from aft on our port side and the captain hailed the vessel saying, “A fine morning for sailing, sir, what be your objective?”

  The reply came back, “Salaam Alaikum, we came out to hunt for Americans, have you seen any recently?”

  At that, Captain Sterett ordered the American colors hoisted as he said, “You have found them, sir!” Then he ordered the port cannons to open up along with the muskets from the marines. The Tripolitan immediately fired her starboard cannons, but only achieved a partial broadside in an attempt to fight off the attack and withdraw from the Enterprise. We continued to stay alongside as they turned to port and we fired another volley of three cannons before breaking away to starboard. Our port cannons were quickly reloaded as we slowly began to circle back.

  The polacca was bigger than the Enterprise, she had two masts laden with large white sails protruding skyward, clashing with the blue cloudless sky. Her hull was painted black and she had seven cannons on her starboard and a couple of smaller cannons on her bow and stern. Her deck was loaded with men scurrying about preparing for battle. We came back around and made our approach along our starboard. We fired a broadside into her as she returned the exchange filling the space between us with smoke. I looked through the smoke as we reloaded and I could see our fire had done some damage to their rigging, some of the sails on her foremast had torn away. Their shot however did not have the same effect and had achieved very little damage to our own vessel during the exchange. Several grappling hooks from the polacca landed on deck and pulled tight as I heard the roar of men hollering. The marines discharged several volleys into them as some of the crew brandishing axes steadily cut all the grappling lines. The two ships parted as we put some distance between us before the captain maneuvered to reengage another broadside attack. As we circled back and made our approach, the Tripolitan lowered her colors in surrendering the fight. “They’ve struck their colors, captain,” Mr. Walsh belted out. The crew gave out a loud cheer as we approached alongside the polacca, but just as the captain hailed the vessel to discuss terms, they fired a broadside blast and raised their flag again. “Treachery!” the captain yelled and then gave the command to return fire. The pirates again tried to hook on to the Enterprise and board, as we fired grapeshot at close range and fired into them causing great carnage. Cutting all grappling lines, we broke off the attack to starboard. As we turned to make another attack, the polacca again struck her colors. This time, the captain was leery as we approached and ordered the crew to prepare to fire. As soon as Captain Sterett stepped out to hail the vessel, they raised their colors and fired on us. Once again we fired with great determination.

  The engagement was long and full of heightened anxiety. The two ships grappled with each other like a slow-moving dance. Slowly circling to get into a firing position, culminating in a furious exchange of fire, then slowly breaking away to regroup for another attack. Like a game of chess, each move was thought out thoroughly and a mistake could have devastating consequences. The Tripolitan had already lost their ability to escape, their masts and sails were partially damaged. It also appeared that we had damaged several of the polacca cannons, significantly reducing their ability to defend themselves. Their only hope of victory was to board the Enterprise, and we were more than determined to stop them.

  Captain Sterett signaled for his officers as we began our turn back to the polacca. He said, “Gentlemen, this commander has no honor. If they strike their colors and then fire, aim your cannons at the waterline. We will rid ourselves of this vermin and let the sharks have them!” Returning to my station, I informed the crews to raise the screw below the cannon and aim for the waterline. Coming about, we again attacked the enemy vessel, and yet again she struck her colors in surrender. As Captain Sterett had thought, they again fired upon us. We responded with an intense barrage of fire. The polacca began to take in water and again struck her colors. This time, we continued to fire. The polacca did not return a broadside and Captain Sterett was determined to sink her. I could hear the pirate captain yelling out for mercy, but we continued to fire. The captain must have finally relented to his sense of compassion and gave the order to cease-fire, but not before the polacca was incapable of challenging us again. He then hailed the pirate vessel. “Captain, you and your officers will come over in your boat, or I will sink your ship.”

  The pirate captain replied, “Sir, our boat has been destroyed, but if you send your ship’s boat, I will comply with your command.”

  Captain Sterett replied harshly, “Sir, you are a man without honor, how do I know you will not murder my men?”

  The enemy vessel fell silent, only the groans of the wounded could be heard. Then a reply, “Sir, I swear by the name of Allah, I will not harm your men.”

  Captain Sterett looked about the crew and said, “I need ten volunteers to board the polacca.” Lieutenant Baker immediately stepped forward. “Not you, Tim, I need you and your marines to stand by in case this is a trick,” said Captain Sterett. Lieutenant Thorn stepped forward. I was interested to see the damage we had delivered and in my curiosity, I instinctively stepped forward before I even thought of the consequences. The captain looked at me and gave a nod. Several seamen volunteered and the captain gave his approval. Then he declared to the polacca, “If any of my men are injured, I will sink your vessel will all hands!” As the ship’s boat was lowered, the captain exclaimed, “Jonathan, send the captain and his officers over and gather their weapons, good luck, gentlemen.” As we approached the pirate ship, our rifles and pistols loaded and aimed at the unknown, we grabbed the ropes along the side and secured the ship’s boat. Slowly we climbed onto the deck. The dead and dying strewed out in every part of the ship, some motionless just staring at us with contempt, others moaning in pain. It looked as though most of the crew was injured in some fashion. A man approached us, short in stature with graying hair and a long beard. He was bleeding from his arm and in noticeable pain. “I am Admiral Rous, this is the Tripolitan ship Tripoli,” he said with evident despair.

  Lieutenant Thorn responded without sentiment, “I am Lieutenant Thorn from the United States ship Enterprise, Captain Sterett is expecting you and your officers, sir.”

  “My first officer and surgeon are dead, only myself and my second lieutenant remain. We will go with you.” Then he pointed to a thin man with a bandaged leg. “This man speaks English and will remain here.”

  The thin man limped over to Lieutenant Thorn and uttered, “My name is Feki, sir, I speak some English, I will translate your commands.”

  We kept our weapons at the ready as Admiral Rous and his lieutenan
t entered the ship’s boat and shoved off to the Enterprise with two of the our crewman. The rest of us remained on the Tripoli and Lieutenant Thorn ordered all weapons to be stacked in the center of the ship. A pile of weaponry soon materialized as muskets, pistols, knives, and swords of all types were amassed. I could almost feel the contempt as the pirates exhibited a cold stare as we separated those not dead or wounded into a group under guard. Only twenty-one of the Tripoli’s eighty men remained unscathed from the engagement.

  As I stepped aboard the polacca, I began to have second thoughts about the wisdom of volunteering for this venture. The deck was thick with an awful stench and one of our party began to vomit, contributing to the urge myself. I fought to keep from heaving as I thought that would be embarrassing and undignified for an officer.

  I felt confident with Lieutenant Thorn. He was similar in nature to Captain Sterett, both had quick tempers, but both were also very intelligent and only took risks when the odds were in their favor. But Sterett was ruthless in battle, like a caged animal, his fight was immense with only a limited supply of mercy for his foe.

  The ship’s boat returned from the Enterprise with ten more of the crew along with Mr. Walsh. Lieutenant Thorn asked him, “Mr. Walsh, where is Dr. Batterton? Some of these men need attention.”

  “Sir, the captain gave orders to chop down the masts and throw their weapons overboard, to include their cannons. He said that these men can make their own way home in due time, he made no provision for medical aid and told the doctor to stay aboard the Enterprise,” he replied.

  Lieutenant Thorn had the look of surprise, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “So be it. Gentlemen, throw these weapons overboard, then dislodge and push the cannons overboard.” We got to work disarming the vessel, plunging all weapons into the sea, leaving the ship vulnerable. What was left of the masts were given the ax and they too fell into the sea. As the mainmast of the polacca was falling, I heard some men yell and felt a sharp pain as part of a yard that was falling from the mast hit my arm on the way down. My left arm went numb and I had a sharp pain emanating from my shoulder. I grasped my arm as I fell to the deck and I could see it broken between my elbow and wrist in an unnatural position. Lieutenant Thorn ran over to me and told me to stay on the deck. Some of the Tripolitan sailors laughed a bit before Mr. Walsh silenced them with some harsh words. Lieutenant Thorn signaled for the ship’s boat to take me over to the Enterprise as they continued to dismantle the Tripoli. Bat met me as I was pulled up on the deck of the Enterprise. My arm began to throb as the numbness turned to pain. Dr. Batterton told a couple of loblolly boys, “Hold him down and gently remove his jacket and shirt.” I started feeling dizzy, the heat contributing to the pain in my arm. I didn’t want to look at it and I knew what he was going to do would hurt. My jacket and shirt removed, Bat studied the wound and said, “Well, Clyde, you have a clean break in the forearm and a fractured wrist. The good news is they should heal over time. I think your shoulder is dislocated as well.” Then he told me to brace as he nodded to the two men holding me. He put his hand in my armpit and pushed hard, popping my shoulder back into place and sending a wave of sharp pain throughout my body. Then he grabbed me by the arm with both hands and snapped my bone back into place as I screamed out then returned my wrist in place. Once straight he began to attach a splint. I felt embarrassed that I cried out since I’ve seen men with much greater injuries quietly absorb the pain without such a fuss. He propped me up next to a cask as my arm started to swell up. One of the loblolly boys handed him a bottle of rum and he stated, “Keep your arm elevated for a while, Clyde, drink this, it will deaden the pain.”

  I supported my arm up on the cask, with the weight of the splint my arm felt as though it weighed a ton and throbbed with pain. I put my shirt back on and I drank the rum as the men worked on the Tripoli in the late afternoon sun and fell asleep. I awoke in darkness of the berth not knowing how I got there. My arm still elevated above my head as I lay in the hammock. The splint wrapped tight, my arm still ached as I found my jacket, but was unable to fit it on over the splint. I made my way topside, it was morning and there was no sign of the Tripoli. I saw Jim Lewis and he told me we were on our way to Malta. He explained that the Tripoli set off with minimal sailing capacity to get them home—crippled and defenseless. Mr. Edwards had taken me below along with Mr. Duffy. That was the second time he had looked after me after being wounded, I felt a warm gratitude that I knew he would not reciprocate in public, but his heart was truly splendid.

  Captain Sterett asked me why I was in a state of undress and I answered him, “Sir, I cannot fit my jacket over the splint.”

  He retorted, “Mr. Carter, on this ship officers wear their uniforms so you can take off the splint, you can cut the sleeve of your jacket to fit over the splint, or you can stay below and recover, but you will not be on this bridge without a proper uniform. Is that clear?”

  “Aye, sir!” I replied. I knew better than to tell the captain I did not want to ruin my uniform, but I had no choice in the matter. Staying below would certainly end any chance of a career as word would spread that I did not do my duty. The captain didn’t even ask how I was, I wondered if he cared about anything except the mission at hand. I cut my sleeve and while putting on my jacket I realized that Simon’s bone was not around my neck. I looked for it in the berth but couldn’t find it. I began to feel sense of panic. I went topside and looked in the area where my shirt was taken off, but it was not there either. Jim helped me look for it, but it was gone. A depression overcame me, what would become of me without it? I always felt a sense of good fortune as long as I had the necklace, now I was uncertain. Word of our engagement with the Tripoli reached the squadron before we arrived back from Malta with the requested supply of fresh water. Captain Sterett was commended by Commodore Dale and a few weeks later the Enterprise was ordered back to the United States with dispatches from the commodore.

  27

  Pressing Genoa

  The weather was ideal for the trip home for half of the journey before we hit a storm that seemed to stay with us for several days. We dropped our sails on the second day because of the intense wind. The following morning the rain stopped and the sky gave way to an immense rainbow. A glorious site and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The crew had not had much sleep and the calm waters were as soothing as a lullaby. My arm still had some pain, but the swelling was completely gone. A few hours after sunrise, the lookouts spotted a sail off the starboard bow. The captain ordered a parallel course to get a look at the vessel. A merchant ship, they were flying the colors of the United States. The ship was a large merchant vessel with three masts. Some of the sails were up but the large square sails were cut down, the rigging was a mess. After pulling alongside, the captain hailed the merchantmen requesting identification. A reply came back, “Sir, this in the United States ship Genoa out of Boston. Request permission to board and speak with your captain.” Captain Sterett steered the ship close and had the crew threw lines. When he got aboard the merchant captain could hardly contain his emotions, he was obviously upset. Sweating and almost out of breath the man started ranting to Captain Sterett, he was hard to understand as he talked so fast and the distinct New England accent did not help me to understand clearly what he was saying. The captain said, “Slow down, sir, please start again slowly, tell me what happened to your ship.” The man took a deep breath and said, “Cap’n, them damn British took my crew!” Captain Sterett looked at him soberly, “What do you mean, took your crew?” The man explained that he was Captain Hawkins of the Genoa and they were heading home to Boston with a cargo from Italy, when they were ordered to stop by a British warship. The British boarded his ship with the intent to press the American crew as he sharply protested the matter grievingly. He pronounced, “British officers lined up my crew and asked all those born in the British Commonwealth to step forward. A few did, even though they are citizens of our county now. A British lieutenant complained and stated that he did not
believe all the rest were American born. Questioning each sailor as to his duties, the British separated out the boatswains mates and some of the able seamen. Then the British officer told me that the separated men were now sailors of the empire and took them aboard the warship. I appealed to their captain, and told him that he took half my number, I could not sail with half a crew. The British captain told me that it was not his concern and that I should be grateful that he did not take them all. We ran into a storm that evening and it was all we could do to keep from wrecking. I had to cut away some of the sails as we didn’t have the men to shorten and stow sails. The storm battered us relentlessly but we remained afloat only by the grace of God!”

  Captain Sterett gave instructions for Mr. Richards to oversee repairs aboard the Genoa to ensure she was seaworthy for the voyage back. He informed Captain Hawkins he would provide seamen to assist in sailing and escort him safely to Boston. After Captain Hawkins departed for his own vessel, Captain Sterett addressed the officers standing near him, “This business of pressing sailors for the empire is going to get us into another war!”

  Lieutenant Thorn asserted, “You’d think they have enough problems with Bonaparte, why do they challenge our sovereignty? We have no dispute with them.”

  Captain Sterett was quiet for a moment then stated, “The war with the French must be inflicting considerable casualties. They need sailors to man their warships. I wonder how many Americans are now pressed into service with the British?”

  I manned the watch in the early morning till first light as we sailed alongside the Genoa at a considerably slower rate than normal before being relieved. The men began to file on deck when I heard a strange sound coming from the bow, a whimper followed by coughing like someone was trying to catch their breath of air. I saw a man hunched over on his knees with a blanket over his head. I approached the man and he stood, revealing his face from the blanket. It was Mr. Edwards. Surprised, I asked him if he was all right, but he just grunted in reply. In his hands was a still Green Gato. A group of seamen to include Mr. Duffy approached, realizing that Green Gato had seemingly died sometime during the night, some of the men began to laugh but were quickly quieted by Mr. Duffy and a few other men showing respect for Mr. Edwards. I knew the cat meant a lot to the old man and I gave him my condolences. Lieutenant Somers approached the men and inquired why breakfast was not being cooked. He was told about the matter and asked Mr. Edwards what he would like to do. He told the lieutenant that he would like to bury the cat at sea and to the surprise of some of the men, he agreed. The small corpse of Green Gato was prepared and weighed down to ensure he sank. Several men gathered together to include Lieutenant Somers. Captain Sterett thought the entire ceremony pointless and did not participate, but allowed Mr. Edwards to fulfill his request. Green Gato had been on this ship as well as the Eagle for a long time, it would be strange not to have him on board. Mr. Edwards said a few words, then dropped the feline into the depths. As the cat plunged into the water, Mr. Edwards uttered, “Good-bye, my sweet darling Antonia!” This took me by surprise, who was Antonia? I glanced at Mr. Duffy for answers, but he just shrugged his shoulders as if to suggest he did not understand the comment either.