CHAPTER 21

Derne: From a Kingdom to Beggary?

ON MONDAY, JUNE 3, to the east in Derne, unaware of the impending peace treaty, William Eaton remained steadfast, refusing to leave the town or abandon Hamet. Eaton—when not shoring up the town’s defenses—began writing an open-ended letter to Commodore Barron, a kind of bombastic rant of a very frustrated soldier. He said he thought his mission was “to chastise a perfidious foe rather than to sacrifice a credulous friend.” He balked at the indignity of lowering the American flag “in the presence of an enemy who have not merited the triumph.” He lamented losing an opportunity to remake the entire Barbary Coast by standing up to the extortion in Tripoli and then doing likewise in Tunis and Algiers, and then watching the rest of the victimized nations follow our fine example. And if we do leave Derne, how can we reconcile “honor” and “justice” with our treatment of Hamet? He might not have been a great general, wrote Eaton, but the people welcomed him as a peaceful alternative to that madman, Yussef.

Eaton, of course, at that moment had no way of knowing how Lear’s peace negotiations were proceeding. (Camel-back messengers took about two weeks; a ship with favorable winds could make it in four days.) These first days of June were hard for him. The inevitability of abandoning Hamet grew every minute. Evening after evening after receiving Barron’s letter, Eaton had himself rowed out to the Argus. He could look back shoreward and see the harbor battery and rickety fort that he and his men were trying so hard to repair.

Apparently Eaton, Hull, and Lieutenant Evans of the Hornet enjoyed supper together and then drank down some of the 72 bottles of Porter and quarter cask of Marsala sent by Barron. Eaton—with his usual bullheadedness—was trying to shake off the sense of impending doom.

On June 3, the enemy feinted an attack on the back of Derne to discover how the townspeople would react. Eaton was thrilled when the locals manned the defenses. “During the alarm, a detachment from the garrison, under the command of Lieut. O’Bannon passed through town. Everybody, [old and young], even women from their recluse, shouted: ‘Live the Americans! Long Live our friends and protectors!’”

That night Eaton could not avoid bitter thoughts on the fate of the “hapless” families of Derne. If they could see the reversal in their near future, their “acclamations of confidence” would turn to curses.

The rhythmic pull of the sailors brought him to the convivial table of Hull, Peck, Evans, and Mann. It gradually dawned on Isaac Hull that, despite the words of Barron, his New England friend here, with his “unquiet” eyes and ramrod bearing, had no intention of leaving Derne. Hull faced a quandary. His orders called for him to leave Derne with Eaton’s forces, but Barron—accepting the vagaries of war—had not specifically ordered Eaton to leave immediately.

To cover himself from censure (even though he saw Eaton daily), he wrote him a note: “I have . . . to inform you that the Argus & Hornet are ready for sea, and in readiness to receive you and the men under your command on board, at any moment that you inform me of your intention to abandon your post, and a favourable opportunity offers to take you off.”

Eaton replied that he intended to wait for fresh “Advices” that he expected to arrive any day from the commander in chief in Malta.

For his part, Captain Hull could order his marines and his midshipmen back on board, and then depart the coast, leaving Eaton, Hamet, and the mercenaries to their fate. He could do that. Hull mulled his options and weighed what waiting a few more days might do to his promising career in the navy.

The following day, June 5, events took a sudden turn, at least in the eyes of Eaton and Hull. It was a temperate breezy morning, and a crew of sailors rowed in from the Argus to help shovel dirt and pile stones at the old harbor fort. The sailors in white pants and blue shirts and neckerchiefs joined the Greek and Sicilian mercenaries and the half dozen U.S. Marines living in tents nearby.

Eaton had bribed a Moslem holy man to spy for him. That morning, the man returned from the enemy camp with some remarkable news. A messenger had arrived from Tripoli. The man, traveling on camel, had taken eleven days to make the 650-mile journey, so this was eleven-day-old news. (In that era—or any era for that matter—a letter provided a still life of a past moment . . . that situation, that mind-set might now no longer exist.)

The messenger had left Bashaw Yussef in Tripoli on May 25, the day before Tobias Lear arrived in the Essex. The Bashaw was ordering his commander at Derne, Hassan Bey, to hold his army together at all costs because the Bashaw planned on hurrying to negotiate peace with the United States, even if he had to sell his royal wardrobe. In other words, the Bashaw said he was willing to pawn his clothes to buy peace. According to the spy, the short note concluded: Then, once there was peace with the United States, he intended to dispose of his enemies. He implored the officer to hold on until peace could be finalized.

The spy added that he had overheard that several Bedouin allies in the enemy’s camp were pondering switching allegiance over to Hamet because, they said, America’s cannonballs and bayonets were taking the joy out of cavalry campaigns.

A couple hours later, two Moslem officers deserted to Hamet’s side, and they confirmed the spy’s report. They added that in Tripoli City, Bashaw Yussef was so unloved that he could count on only about 200 loyal troops.

Late that afternoon, yet another overture came from a Yussef ally willing to switch sides. Abd-el-Selim came over with a few other riders and said that another bey would bring over 150 cavalrymen if he can have guarantees that the Americans would never abandon him to Yussef, “who would devour his family and lands.”

Captain Hull, who happened to be ashore that day to check the progress of bolstering the fort, heard all the spy reports and defections. Eaton and Hull deemed it imperative to rush this news of Yussef’s weakness to Commodore Barron . . . perhaps Barron could pull back Lear or at least instruct Lear to drive the hardest peace bargain imaginable, and certainly not pay a penny. Hull ordered the Hornet to prepare to carry messages to Malta. Eaton took the opportunity to put in writing to Barron his refusal to depart, pending definitive news of a treaty or fresh orders.

Eaton added, “Be assured, Sir, we only want cash and a few marines to proceed to Tripoli & to meet you in the citadel of that piratical kennel for the liberation of our captives.”

That night, Eaton and Hull drank together on ship; Eaton wasn’t rowed ashore until midnight. Eaton’s latest message to Barron, his last hope, was tucked aboard the Hornet, which was ready to sail in the morning. But on Thursday, June 6, as the men rowed in to work at the fort, everyone noticed winds out of the west picking up force. Since Tripoli lay due west into the teeth of the breezes, Hull decided to wait to look for a shift; maybe he hoped the Nautilus would arrive in the meantime with clear-cut orders.

Another desertion struck the enemy. The second in command, Hadji Ismain Bey, leader of the cavalry, sneaked off for Upper Egypt with a handful of followers and a chest of money.

The winds out of the west blew harder. Hull thought it politic to enter into his ship’s log for June 8: “Had some conversation with [Eaton] concerning his abandoning his post which he consented to do after waiting a reasonable time for the arrival of the Nautilus—if she did not come.” Neither man defined “reasonable.” On Sunday, June 9, Hull pushed Eaton again on the topic: “Had some conversation with him about abandoning the fort, which he agreed to do at first good opportunity.”

Steady winds blew in from the north and west. Eaton could look out and see the brig Hornet anchored offshore. Had it disappeared, carrying his messages, he would have some hope. Soured, Eaton wrote nothing in his journal, nothing in his open-ended letter to Barron.

The bleakness was hitting home; Eaton couldn’t stand to dupe Hamet any longer. He decided he must tell him that there was a strong possibility that the United States would sign a peace treaty with his brother. That Eaton told Hamet took courage because Eaton and his 70 men were ringed onshore by about 2,000 of Hamet’s followers.

Eaton in his homemade general’s uniform looked squarely at Hamet in his colorful finery. The men had shared an extraordinary four months together. With typical directness, Eaton relayed Barron’s motives for withdrawing support, stating that the commodore claimed Hamet lacked “energy & talent” and “means & resources” to be worthy of further aid. Eaton told the ousted Bashaw that he completely disagreed and would continue to lobby to change Barron’s mind. Hamet’s hopes had been betrayed before; his reaction was swift and bitter, according to Eaton.

“He answers that, even with supplies it would be fruitless for him to attempt to prosecute the war with his brother after you shall have withdrawn your squadron from the coast; but without supplies, he must be left in a most forlorn situation; for he can command no resources here, nor can he place any faith in provisions which may be stipulated with his brother in his favor, unless guaranteed by the United States. He emphatically says that to abandon him here is not to have cooperated with him, but with his rival! He wishes us to take him off in case of a peace.”

On the morning of June 10, Eaton was able to banish the dark thoughts for a while. The enemy—after weeks of hesitation—attacked.

Hassan Bey finally rallied a formidable force of near 3,000 men, including a large cavalry, to swoop down on Derne. The day had begun innocuously enough. Just after dawn, the shore party from the Argus, fresh from rowing a mile, had arrived to help with the digging and wall building. The men were hard at work in the cool morning when a scout reported enemy movements on the nearby mountain.

The local terrain would dictate many aspects of the conflict. A short-stack mountain looms over the eastern side of Derne, the closest edge about two and a half miles away. All morning Eaton, through his spyglass, observed the enemy troops on horseback gathering in clusters, with advance parties trying various paths down the steep craggy mountainside. They were looking for an alternative to the one widely used path that funneled them downward onto a rough plain along the rocky edge of the seashore. This constricted route and seaside angle of approach would make them vulnerable to cannonfire from both the ships at sea and from Eaton’s advance battery along the shore.

At 10 A.M. the enemy noticed Hamet’s lookouts scouting along the plain by the shore. The enemy sent a troop down to try to cut them off. Hamet’s men signaled for reinforcements, and enough arrived to beat back the attackers. This skirmish pitted Arab cavalry armed with muskets, pistols, and swords against one another, mostly from a safe distance. A shot here and a shot there and then the fine slow art of reloading on horseback. The enemy regrouped up the mountain, and by the darkening numbers blotting the pale landscape, they seemed poised for an all-out attack.

Eaton fired off a signal of “battle” to the ships at sea, and the favorable breeze allowed the Argus to glide in closer. At noon, the enemy filed down through the narrow pass to attack. Hamet’s troops ranged at a spot on the seacoast plain about three-quarters of a mile from Derne. Captain Hull, who had a clear spyglass view of the enemy descending behind a half dozen green Arabic-script banners, guided the Argus to a spot “about half a gunshot” from the fort, and he dropped anchor. He used “springs” (thick ropes) attached to the anchor cable to help maneuver the ship. The sailors also had to haul one heavy gun from the starboard bow to the port side in the aft of the ship. By 1:15 P.M. his gun crews began to light up the long guns, sending twelve-pound cannonballs hurtling half a mile up into the attacking enemy. Each time a troop emerged from a gully or a ridge, the Argus let fire. The gunners timed their lighting the fuse to the uproll of the sea swells; they couldn’t swivel right or left but relied on the captain to align the entire ship. This bombardment was certainly hit-or-more-often-miss. But even when it missed, the whistling balls, the flying clods of pounded earth, struck terror.

The shallow-draft brig Hornet, closer to the beach, also opened up on the enemy, but Lieutenant Evans found himself a bit too far under the cliff to have enough loft to hit the plain. Eaton’s gunners in town also opened fire.

Hamet dug in; he knew that American support might be withdrawn very soon; given Eaton’s bluntness, Hamet knew the American commodore’s criticism. Hamet flourished this day. His two thousand men held their ground against the three thousand men attacking. Hull through the spyglass had a fine vantage point to observe Hamet’s forces “warmly” engaging, “keeping up a brisqu fire.” This battle was fought Arab-style with horsemen charging and firing a musket or pistol shot and wheeling back to safety. Foot soldiers scattered and picked off targets. Rarely, some clusters of men crossed scimitars. (There was none of Europe’s disciplined lines of reloading muskets or relentless bayonet charges.)

By 2 P.M., the fighting spread out across the plain. (Eaton later learned from a deserter that the enemy had 945 men on horses recruited from eight regions of the country and 2,000 soldiers on foot.)

Eaton was forced into the unusual role of spectator and the more unusual role of having to restrain someone from fighting. “Lt. O’Bannon was impatient to lead his marines and the Greeks (about 38 in number) to the scene of the action,” Eaton later wrote. “This could not be done without leaving our post too defenseless in case of a reverse; besides, I confess, I had doubts whether the measures lately adopted by our commissioner of peace [Lear] would justify me in acting offensively any longer in this quarter.”

The engagement lasted four hours, and “though frequently charged, the Bashaw lost not an inch of ground.” Around 4:30 P.M., the enemy retreated, desperately trying to squeeze back through the mountain pass. Hamet’s men pursued. Frantic to escape, many were knocked off their horses in the jam up at the pass. Hamet’s men captured dozens of mounts.

Eaton soon discovered that the Bashaw sustained casualties of about 50 people killed or wounded, including four high-ranking officers, while the enemy had 50 fighters killed and another 70 or more wounded.

From his vantage point at sea, Hull was impressed that Hamet’s army rebuffed repeated cavalry charges. In the very late afternoon, after the battle, Eaton traveled out to the Argus, and the two Americans compared notes on Hamet’s great victory. Eaton requested the ship’s surgeon follow him ashore to treat Hamet’s wounded. The Argus also supplied Eaton with three casks of gunpowder to replace what they had used from their advanced battery.

Hamet, at long last, had shown himself in battle.

With contrary winds still anchoring the Hornet in Derne, Eaton now added more lines in his open letter to Barron. In addition to relaying reports of Yussef’s desperation for peace, Eaton now scratched out a long detailed account of Hamet’s victory.

The winds finally did shift . . . but violently and to the north, not west. At midnight, Captain Hull recorded that the waves were rising and breaking hard on the shore. The Argus stood at risk of being smashed on nearby rocks. According to his ship’s log, Hull turned out all hands at 4 A.M.; the hundred men rolled out of their hammocks on the hard-tossing ship. The sailors had to prepare the ship for slipping anchor. That meant they had to attach buoys onto the anchor cable, so when they cut it loose, they could later come back and retrieve the anchors. They lashed everything fast.

At 4:30 A.M. in the dark, with the winds howling and the waves slapping amid a “very heavy sea,” Captain Hull decided it was too risky to remain anchored this close to shore. The men slipped the anchor cable, and the ship plunged off into the storm to the east.

About an hour later, as Hull was buffeted out to sea, he had the misfortune to see that the Hornet was having trouble fighting its way offshore. At 6:30 A.M., he noted that the Hornet was dangling with only one anchor cable holding fast. “I was under very great apprehension for her safety but could not go to her assistance without indangering the brig.”

Hull rode out the storm, heading to the east, the hundred-foot-long, two-masted brig diving and climbing the waves. In the darkness and haste, Hull had left the launch towing behind on a long rope, but the storm threatened to smash the small boat into the brig; the men fought on the slippery rainy deck to hoist the launch into the Argus.

By 7 A.M. on Tuesday morning, Hull found himself five leagues to the north-northwest of Cape Ras-et-Tin, heading back toward Bomba. Hull experimented with various sails, trying the mainsail reefed, both fore and aft; at 11.A.M., heavy seas forced him to send the men aloft to haul up the fore topsail. (This brutal June storm showed why navies waited for summer to attack off the coast of Africa.) The nautical day begins at noon, and Hull noted, “Commences with Fresh Gales from the North.d and a very heavy sea under Close Reef.d Topsails and storm stay sails.”

In late afternoon, fresh gales and a heavy sea were cartwheeling the men and the ship. The timber groaned and creaked. Hull was appalled to discover that a brutally strong current heading to the east made him lose ground in his efforts to return westward back to Derne. He worried about the Hornet and about Eaton and the unprotected troops on the ground, surrounded by a more numerous enemy. As he was struggling in this nautical quicksand, he noticed a large sail upwind of him, closer to Derne. He put spyglass to eye but couldn’t puzzle out the ship’s identity.

Day by day onshore from the eve of Hamet’s victory, William Eaton had looked out to sea to scan for the return of the Argus, which would bring back its firepower and the bottles of brandy. He had also continued looking seaward for the return of the Nautilus from Malta.

Around 6:30 P.M. on Tuesday, June 11, he spied a sail. The more he squinted, the larger the sail appeared. It was a very large sail. Not a brig or schooner. The ship was clearly not the Argus, but in the evening gloom, Eaton could not be certain. It appeared to be a frigate. Would it bring fresh orders from Barron? A reprieve for Hamet?

Eaton saw a boat lowered from the large ship. The sailors pulled at the oars and the launch lurched forward. Eaton watched it take more than an hour to reach the shore.

After the storm, the air was clean and clear. At the water’s edge, Eaton greeted the U.S. Navy officer identifying himself as arriving from the USS Constellation. Lieutenant Wederstrandt, no doubt all smiles, began to announce to Eaton that the American prisoners were free and that peace had been declared, but Eaton shouted at the man to hold his tongue. Any word of that treaty escaping into the streets of Derne could spell a death sentence for all of them.

Lieutenant Wederstrandt handed Eaton letters from Commodore John Rodgers and Consul General Tobias Lear. Eaton retreated somewhere private to read these two letters that he knew would formalize the end of his mission. Anticipation didn’t soften the blow.

Commodore Rodgers not only offered no congratulations but instead began by berating Eaton for still even being at Derne, in defiance of Commodore Barron’s directive. Rodgers informed Eaton that peace had been concluded on June 3. “[I] have to desire that no farther hostilities by the forces of U. States be committed against the said Joseph Bashaw, his subjects or dominions, and that you evacuate and withdraw our forces from Derne.” Rodgers enclosed the three preliminary articles of peace. Eaton discovered for the first time that the United States had agreed to pay $60,000 ransom. History has failed to record the stream of expletives that flowed from his lips.

And in the third article, he found his covert mission turned on its head. After bringing Hamet to the eastern province of Tripoli, he must now try to make the legitimate ruler disappear. “The Americans will use all means in their power to persuade the Brother of the said Bashaw, who has co-operated with them at Derne &c to withdraw from the Territory of the said Bashaw of Tripoli; but they will not use any force or improper means to effect that object; and in case he should withdraw himself, the Bashaw engages to deliver up to him, his Wife and Children now in his power.”

To Eaton’s mind, it was a piddling offer to the conqueror of Derne—not even a governorship or a fat bribe—but at least it was something.

Eaton unsealed the letter from Lear and unfolded it.

Over the course of the rest of his life, Eaton would at various times chronicle his reaction to Lear’s words. Appalled, dumbfounded, disgusted, disgraced, outraged, furious, start to paint the picture. He would eventually accuse Lear of being ignorant, cowardly, and devious and would one day call him “Aunt Lear.”

Eaton read along as Lear vaunted of chopping Yussef’s price down from $200,000 to $60,000. Eaton was incredulous. He later wrote that indeed Yussef had 200 more prisoners than the U.S. Navy had, but that Eaton and Hamet had 12,000 residents of the eastern province under their control. “Could this not have been exchanged for 200 prisoners of war? Was the attempt made?” Eaton brusquely reassessed Lear’s bargain: “We gave a kingdom for peace.”

Eaton bristled at Lear’s statement that Yussef was the better choice to preserve the treaty with the United States and rule Tripoli. “If parricide, fratricide, treason, perfidy . . . and systematic piracy [give guarantee] of good faith, Mr. Lear has chosen the fittest of the two brothers.”

His anger surged when he read Lear’s account that the diplomat had been forced to stop bargaining for Hamet out of fear that his efforts might “prove fatal to our countrymen.” Eaton later wondered aloud about Lear’s ignorance. Anyone who ever dealt with Yussef knew that the Bashaw blustered but never risked his own skin to bite. The previous summer Yussef had threatened to kill all the prisoners if Commodore Preble fired one shot. Instead of hurting anyone, Yussef had retreated to a bomb-proof room. “Was Mr. Lear sent out to co-operate with Joseph Bashaw?”

Finally, Eaton found Lear’s words of praise almost as irritating as the treaty itself, which he regarded as a “wound on the national dignity.” He stated he would never ever consider it an honor to receive a compliment from the provisional colonel Lear, “who never set a squadron in the field nor the division of battle knows.”

The night of Tuesday, June 11, in his tent at the small fort in Derne harbor, Eaton, though shell-shocked, had pressing problems to confront: what to do with Hamet and how to evacuate Derne without a massacre. Eaton summoned Hamet to his tent and informed him in deepest secrecy of the peace treaty just concluded between the United States and Tripoli. And Eaton explained that a clause had been negotiated, that if Hamet left Derne quietly, his family would be restored to him.

Hamet has left no memoirs, but Eaton reported Hamet decided quickly that, given his lack of money and supplies, he must leave Derne with the Americans. And he warned Eaton: If word of their plans to evacuate leaked out, their betrayed allies would certainly try to kill them. Eaton probably slept very little that night, not out of fear but out of guilt. It was too late for a miraculous reprieve from the U.S. Navy. Maybe he weighed becoming a kingmaker and staying on in Tripoli to march westward with Hamet.

At dawn on June 12, Captain Hugh Campbell sent Lieutenant Wederstrandt ashore again with another message for Eaton, this one from Campbell himself “requiring of you to withdraw the American forces from Derne with all possible dispatch.” Campbell added that the Constellation would remain at the ready. “It rests with you to say in what manner and when her services will be required—and when the white flag is to be hoisted on shore—I need not say what pleasure it will give me to see you on board the Constellation, where a cot is provided for you by your very respectful & Obedient Servt.”

Upon receipt, Eaton in haste replied: “I doubt the propriety of showing a white flag until after this post shall be evacuated—Shall have the honor to wait on you on board immediately to consult on certain measures too complicated to be comprised in this note.”

Campbell wasted no time; after receiving the note, he came ashore with several officers. (By now, word had reached the enemy that a large 36-gun three-masted frigate—much bigger than either brig—had reached Derne harbor.)

Hull in the Argus still fought the eastward currents, still trying to claw his way back to Derne. With absolute secrecy, Eaton and Hamet plotted their escape.

In a lifetime filled with many setbacks and some stunning victories, this day, June 12, 1805, must have ranked as the worst in Eaton’s life. This hater of duplicity spent the day deceiving his Moslem and Christian allies. He gave orders that the troops should prepare to attack the enemy. Considering that reinforcements had seemingly just arrived in the heavily armed Constellation, the idea was more than plausible. He sent ammunition and extra rations to his Arab allies and Derne militiamen; he dispatched spies to ferret out the enemy’s whereabouts. At sunset, Eaton inspected the troops: his 6 remaining U.S. Marines, his 38 Greeks, his artillerymen. He ordered them to divest themselves of any heavy baggage and to be ready to advance at a moment’s notice.

The edginess that precedes a battle was everywhere. Men cleaned muskets, sharpened swords, and prepared to fight and possibly to die. The bad jokes fell flat; the melodramatic last words were waved off. The flags of Hamet and the United States flapped side by side on the little fort in Derne.

At 8 P.M. Eaton sent out small patrols to block off any access to the fort. Since this was nominally the rule—though honored more in the breach—no one suspected anything. By now, all the Constellation’s launch boats were huddled by the wharf. Eaton ordered officers, Rocco and Selim, to escort their men into the boats and to load the howitzer they had captured. Then the Greek company filled the other boats.

These riffraff mercenaries recruited at Alexandria did as commanded, quickly and silently, but Eaton noted that the men were filled with “astonishment.” The attack was actually a retreat; the general had lied all day. The American, who never tired of talking about his country’s commitment to honor and fairness, was sneaking out of town under the cover of darkness.

The U.S. Marines remained at their posts. The transit of the boats to the Constellation took almost two hours each way. The pigtailed sailors pulled at the oars of the longboats. The only sound: the rhythmic plash of oars.

A little before midnight, Eaton puzzled out in the dim light that the boats were returning to shore, and he sent a messenger on foot to Hamet to request a brief meeting. This was the signal for Hamet to ride over with his retinue of about forty to the fort. They dismounted and climbed straight into the waiting boats. The marines followed, along with Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon, George Washington Mann, George Farquhar, and Jean Eugene. When every single other person in the garrison was safely aboard the longboats, William Eaton, arm in a sling, stepped aboard. The rowers, calloused hands gripping the oars, pulled the men away from the coast of Derne, and out to the waiting American getaway vessel.

The boats were just beyond pistol shot when the wharf suddenly filled with angry soldiers and citizens of Derne. The United States and Hamet had betrayed them. The Christians had again betrayed the Moslems.

Some shouted for the Bashaw, others shouted at Eaton, some uttered shrieks of rage; others cursed them. The people onshore fell to plundering the tents and horses left in the fort. In the darkness, the rowers pulled them to the Constellation; they reached it at 2 A.M. and boarded. The 160-foot-long ship, with 300 crewmen, now had more than a hundred extra people aboard. Deck space was precious. In a few hours, Moslem jostled Moslem to kneel and pray at dawn.

As the sun’s first rays peeked over the calm sea, Eaton, using a spyglass, could see the townspeople of Derne trying to flee the city, driving every animal before them. They expected a massive attack as soon as Yussef’s forces discovered the flight of the Americans. He also saw the Argus, which had finally wrestled its way back to Derne and was skittering closer.

In midmorning, with Hamet and Eaton safely aboard, Captain Campbell allowed Yussef’s choux to go ashore with his messages. He was rowed in a boat under a white flag of truce and delivered letters of amnesty for anyone now willing to swear allegiance to Yussef.

On the man’s return later in the day, Eaton asked his Arabic translator to query the choux on the state of Derne and the residents’ reaction. He said despair was etched on their faces. He said that almost no one accepted the pardon; they distrusted Yussef and planned instead to defend themselves.

At high noon, Eaton watched for a massacre.

A spy sailed out to the ship and told him that the enemy had been so troubled by the arrival of the Constellation that they had retreated helter-skelter in panic to a spot fifteen miles away from Derne. Eaton could only muse bitterly about what money and naval support might have done for Hamet’s efforts. In the late afternoon aboard the crowded frigate, he wrote a letter to the new commodore, John Rodgers, an officer he sincerely believed to be courageous and patriotic. He had once heard Rodgers at Washington say: “My name shall be written in blood on the walls of Tripoli before I will consent to pay one cent for ransom or tribute.” Eaton closed this note to Rodgers as the foretopmen climbed to unfurl the sails to depart.

In a few minutes more, we shall loose sight of this devoted city, which has experienced as strange a reverse in so short a time as ever was recorded in the disasters of war; thrown from proud success and elated prospects into an abyss of hopeless wretchedness.—Six hours ago the enemy were seeking safety from them by flight—this moment we drop them from ours into the hands of this enemy for no other crime but too much confidence in us! The man whose fortune we have accompanied thus far experiences a reverse as striking—He falls from the most flattering prospects of a Kingdom to beggary.

Our peace with Tripoli is certainly more favorable—and separately considered, more honorable than any peace obtained by any Christian nation with a Barbary Regency at any period within a hundred years; but it might have been more favorable and more honorable. It now remains however to dispose of the instrument [Hamet] we have used in obtaining this peace in such a manner as to acquit our conscience and honor—this will require some diplomatic skill.

Eaton concluded: “The duties . . . annexed to my appointment in the Navy Department having ceased with the war, I have no reasons for remaining any longer in this sea. I request therefore you will have the goodness to allow me a passage in the first ship of war . . . which you may dispatch to the United States.”