It was late in the year, and the captain wished to push on so that he might winter on the coast, but a heavy storm forced them to land and seek refuge under a high cliff. The waves on the river were very high, and the wind was blowing a gale directly from the sea; great waves broke over the place where they camped, and they had to use the utmost care to save their canoes from being smashed by drifting logs. Here they had to stay for six days, in which time their clothes and food were drenched, and their supply of dried fish exhausted; but the men bore these trials lightly now that they were so near the Pacific Ocean. When the gale ended they explored the country for a good place to establish their winter quarters. The captain finally decided to locate on a point of high land above the river Neutel, well beyond the highest tide, and protected by a grove of lofty pines. Here they made their permanent camp, which was called Fort Clatsop. They built seven wooden huts in which to spend the winter. They lived chiefly on elk, to which they added fish and berries in the early spring. A whale stranded on the beach provided them with blubber, and they found salt on the shore. The winter passed without any unusual experiences, and gave the captain an opportunity to make a full record of the country through which he had passed, and of the Indian tribes he had met.
The original plan was to remain at Fort Clatsop until April, when Lewis expected to renew his stock of merchandise from the trading vessels, which visited the mouth of the Columbia every spring; but as the winter passed the constant rain brought sickness among the men, and game grew more and more scarce, so that it was decided to make an earlier return. Before they did this Lewis wrote out an account of his expedition, and arranged to have this delivered to the trading vessels when they should arrive, and in this way the news of his discoveries would not be lost in case anything should happen to his own party. The Indians agreed to deliver the packets, and one of the messages, carried by an American trader, finally reached Boston by way of China in February, 1807, some six months after Lewis himself had returned to the East. On March 24, 1806, they started back on their long route of four thousand one hundred and forty-four miles to St. Louis.
Searching for fish, they found the Multonah or Willamette River, and Lewis wrote that the valley of this stream would furnish the only desirable place of settlement west of the Rocky Mountains. Here he found rich prairies, plenty of fish and game, unusual plants of various sorts, and abundant timber. Soon they reached the village of the Walla Walla Indians, who received them so hospitably that the captain said of all the Indians they had met since leaving the United States this tribe was the most honest and sincere. With twenty-three horses, and Walla Walla Indians as guides, they followed a new road up the valley of the Lewis or Snake River, which saved them eighty miles of their westward route. It was still too early to cross the mountains, and they camped near the place where they had trusted their thirty-eight horses to their Indian friends the autumn before. The Indians returned the horses in exchange for merchandise, and Lewis provided them with food. In all these meetings the squaw wife of the French trader was invaluable. Usually Lewis spoke in English, which was translated by one of his men into French for the benefit of the trapper Chaboneau, who repeated it in the tongue of the Minnetarees to his wife; she would then repeat the words in the Shoshone tongue, and most of the Indians could then understand them, or some could repeat them to the others in their own dialect.
Early in June they tried to cross the mountains, but the snow was ten feet deep on a level, and they had to abandon the attempt until late in the month. They finally crossed, and found their trail of the previous September. At this point the party divided in order to explore different parts of the country. Lewis took a direct road to the Great Falls of the Missouri, where he wished to explore Maria's River. Clark went on to the head of the Jefferson River, where he was to find the canoes that they had hidden, and cross by the shortest route to the Yellowstone; and the two parties were to meet at the mouth of the Yellowstone River. Lack of game prevented Lewis getting far into the country along Maria's River. On this journey he fell in with a band of Minnetarees, and some of them tried to steal his guns and horses. The only real fight of the journey followed, in which two Indians were killed. He then continued eastward, and on August 7th reached the mouth of the Yellowstone, where he found a note telling him that Clark had camped a few miles below.
In the meantime Clark had explored a large part of the valleys of the Jefferson, Gallatin, and Madison Rivers, and had found a boiling-hot spring at the head of the Wisdom River, one of the first signs of the wonders of the Yellowstone. His journey was made safely and comfortably, although at one place he had to stop to build fresh canoes, and during this delay a band of Indians stole twenty-four of his packhorses.
The united party descended the Missouri, and found that other explorers were already following in their track. They met two men from Illinois who had pushed as far west as the Yellowstone on a hunting trip, and back of them they heard of hunters and trappers who were pushing into this unexplored region. Travel homeward was rapid, and on September 23, 1806, the expedition arrived at St. Louis, from which they had started two years and four months before. At the place where they parted with the last of the Minnetarees they said goodbye to Chaboneau, his Indian wife, and child. The squaw had been of the greatest service to them; but for her it is possible that the expedition might never have been able to get through the Shoshone country. Lewis offered to take the three to the United States, but the French trader said that he preferred to remain among the Indians. He was paid five hundred dollars, which included the price of a horse and lodge that had been purchased from him.
The wonderful journey had been a complete success. The explorers had passed through strange tribes of Indians, dangers from hunger and hardship in the high mountains, the desert, and the plains, and had brought back a remarkable record of the scenes and people they had met. From their reports the people of the United States first learned the true value of that great Louisiana Territory, which had been bought for such a small price in money, but which was to furnish homesteads for thousands of pioneers. The work begun by the brave French explorers of earlier centuries was brought to a triumphant close by these two native American discoverers.
III
THE CONSPIRACY OF AARON BURR
There is a small island in the Ohio River, two miles below the town of Parkersburg, that is still haunted with the memory of a strange conspiracy. In 1805 the island, then some three hundred acres in size, belonged to an Irish gentleman, Harman Blennerhassett, who had built a beautiful home there and planted fields of hemp. For a time he and his family lived there in great content, Blennerhassett himself being devoted to science and to music, but presently he felt the need of increasing his small fortune and looked about for a suitable enterprise. Then there was introduced to him a gentleman from New York, a very well-known man by the name of Aaron Burr. He also was seeking to make his fortune, and he took Blennerhassett into his confidence. Together they plotted a conspiracy. They started to put their plans into action, and many people called them patriots, and many called them traitors. History does not know all the secrets of that small island, but it tells a curious story of the conspiracy.
Aaron Burr was a very talented and fascinating man, but he was a born adventurer. At this time he was about fifty years old. He had fought in the Revolution, and practiced law in New York City, where he divided honors with Alexander Hamilton, the most brilliant attorney of the period. He had been elected a senator, and then had become a candidate for President of the United States. In the election of 1800 the Electoral College cast seventy-three votes apiece for Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr, and these two candidates led all the others. As there was a tie, the choice of President was thrown into the House of Representatives, and there followed a long and bitter fight. Finally Jefferson was chosen President, and Burr Vice-President. In the long campaign Burr made many enemies, chief among whom were the powerful New York families of Clinton and Livingston. These men charged him with being a political trickster, and won most of his followers away from him. When Burr became a candidate for Governor of New York he was beaten, and his defeat was made more bitter by the stinging attacks of his old rival, Alexander Hamilton.
In that day it was still the custom for gentlemen to settle questions of honor on the dueling field. Burr, stung by Hamilton's criticisms, challenged him, and the two met on the heights of Weehawken, overlooking the Hudson River. Here Burr wounded Hamilton so severely that the latter died a few days later. Hounded by Hamilton's friends, the luckless Burr now found himself cast out by both the Federalists and Republicans, and with no political future. Yet he knew that he had unusual talents for leadership. Still filled with ambition and in great need of money, he saw that there was little opportunity for him at home, and began to turn his eyes outside of the Republic.
The western world was then a wonderful field for daring adventurers. Thirteen small colonies lying close to the Atlantic Ocean had less than twenty years before thrown off the yoke of a great European nation. Men had already pushed west to the Mississippi, and settled the fertile fields beyond the Alleghanies. Across the great "Mother of Rivers" lay a vast tract that men knew little about. To the south lay Spanish colonies and islands. The Gulf of Mexico was the home of freebooters and pirates. In Europe a man of the people named Napoleon Bonaparte was carving out an empire for himself, and stirring the blood of all ambitious men. Soldiers of fortune everywhere were wondering whether they might not follow in Napoleon's footsteps.
It is hard to say in which direction Burr was tempted first. He wanted to hide his real plans not only from his own countrymen, but from the English, French, and Spanish agents as well. He first pretended to Anthony Merry, the British minister at Washington, that he intended to join a conspiracy to start a revolution in the Spanish colonies, in the hope of turning them into a new republic. Mr. Merry told his government that it would be to the advantage of England if Mr. Burr's plans succeeded. But even then Burr was working on a different scheme. He thought that the people of Louisiana, a large territory at the mouth of the Mississippi River, which had only lately become a part of the United States, might be induced to separate into a new nation of their own. He needed money for his plans, and so he kept pointing out to the British minister the many advantages to England if either the Spanish colonies or Louisiana should win freedom. A third plan was also dawning in Burr's mind, the possibility of entering Mexico and carving out a kingdom there for himself. So he began by dealing with the agents of different countries, trying to get money from each for his own secret schemes.
In the spring of 1805 Burr set out for the West. He took coach for the journey over the mountains to Pittsburgh, where he had arranged by letter to meet General James Wilkinson, the governor of the new territory of Louisiana. Wilkinson was delayed, however, and so Burr embarked in an ark that he had ordered built to sail down the Ohio River. After several days on the water he reached Blennerhassett Island early in May. The owner of the island was away from home, but his wife invited Burr to their house, and he learned from her that her husband was looking for a way to mend his fortunes.
Next day Burr continued his journey in the ark. He reached Cincinnati, then a very small town of fifteen hundred people, where he talked over his plans with several friends. From Cincinnati he went to Louisville, and from there rode to Frankfort. At Nashville he was the guest of Andrew Jackson, who was major-general of the Tennessee militia. Word spread about that Aaron Burr was plotting to free Florida and the West Indies from Spanish rule, and the liberty-loving settlers welcomed him with open arms.
Leaving Andrew Jackson, Burr floated in an open boat to the mouth of the Cumberland River, where his ark, which had come down the Ohio, was waiting for him. The ark made its first stop at a frontier post called Fort Massac, and there Burr met General Wilkinson of Louisiana. These two men were real soldiers of fortune. They had fought side by side at the walls of Quebec, and Wilkinson, like many another, had fallen under the spell of Burr's charm. They probably discussed the whole situation: how a small army might seize Florida, how a small navy could drive the Spaniards from Cuba, how a daring band of frontiersmen could march from Vera Cruz to the city of Mexico. Wilkinson seemed delighted with Burr's schemes, and when he left he provided his friend with a large barge manned by ten soldiers and a sergeant.
In this imposing vessel Burr sailed on down the Mississippi to New Orleans, and on June 25, 1805, landed at that quaint old city. It was already a place of much importance; seagoing ships and thousands of river flatboats docked at its levees, for it was the chief port for sending goods to Mexico and the other Spanish colonies. Burr brought letters to many prominent people, and a public dinner was given in his honor. The visitor had been Vice-President of the United States, and was said to be the leader of a band of mysterious patriots. Enthusiasm ran high in New Orleans when their guest said, as he had already announced in Tennessee, that he intended to devote his life to overthrowing all Spanish rule in America.
Day after day the soldier of fortune was busy with his plans. When he started north on horseback he carried with him the fame of a great patriot. Wherever he stopped, at cabins, at villages, or cities, the frontiersmen wanted to shake his hand. He rode four hundred and fifty miles through the wilderness from Natchez to Nashville, where he again visited Andrew Jackson, who promised him Tennessee soldiers for a war on Spain. At St. Louis he learned that General Zebulon Pike was exploring the best route over the plains to Santa Fé, and many letters told him that the time was ripe to settle old grudges with the borderers of Mexico. Everything seemed favorable to his adventure. Burr had only to decide where he would strike first. He was back in the East by the middle of November, 1805, having filled the whole country with rumors of wild plots and insurrections. He was a figure of mystery. People whispered that Aaron Burr was to be the Washington of a new republic in the West, or the king of a country to be carved out of Mexico.
By the summer of 1806 Burr knew that he could not get money from England to further his plans. He would have to depend on his own countrymen in any attack on Mexico or Spain. His journey had showed him that many of them were eager to follow his lead. Troubles were daily increasing along the borders of Florida and Mexico. It looked easy to take an army into Florida, but there would be more profit in the rich country to the southwest. His friend, General Wilkinson, had just been sent to drive the Mexicans across the Sabine River, the western boundary of Louisiana, and Burr thought this was a good chance to go west again, and perhaps call the settlers to arms. Men he trusted started west early in the summer of 1806, and Burr, with his daughter, and a Colonel De Pestre, who had fought in the French Revolution, and a few friends and servants, set out in August for their meeting-place on Blennerhassett Island. When he arrived there he was warmly welcomed by the owner. Burr showed Blennerhassett how he could make his fortune in Mexico, because if the conspiracy were successful they could take a large part of that country for themselves. Fired by Burr's story the men on the island immediately began preparations. They sent to the town of Marietta for one hundred barrels of pork, and contracted to have fifteen boats delivered at the island the following December. A kiln was built near Blennerhassett's house for drying corn, which was then ground into meal, and packed for shipping. All sorts of provisions were purchased, and the Blennerhassett family prepared to send their household goods down the river. Word of the plans spread, and men in various towns near the Ohio made ready to join the expedition. When the leader should send out his messengers recruits would come pouring in.
In the meantime Burr himself had left the little island and covered a wide stretch of country. He wanted to be sure of Andrew Jackson's aid, and he found that fiery warrior as ready as ever to fight Spaniard or Mexican in the cause of liberty. The general still thought that his friend Burr's only object was to free all of North America. Eager in that cause, Jackson sent word to the Tennessee militia, urging them to be ready for instant duty against the Spaniards, who, he said, had already captured several citizens of the United States, had cut down our flag, had driven our explorers away from the Red River, and had taken an insulting position on the east bank of the River Sabine, in the territory of Orleans. He wrote to President Jefferson offering to lead his Tennessee militia against the troops of Spain. A large part of the country expected war at once. Burr, for his own purposes, did all he could to inflame this warlike feeling.
In October the chief conspirator met his daughter, Theodosia Alston, her husband, and Blennerhassett at Lexington, Kentucky. He now arranged to buy a tract, known as the Bastrop lands, which included nearly a million acres in northern Louisiana on the Washita River. This purchase he meant to use as a blind, intending to settle there only in case his other plans failed. If the United States Government should suspect the conspirators of plotting against Mexico, they could pretend to be merely settlers, armed to defend themselves in case the Spaniards should overrun their borders. The tract would be valuable in any case, because of the rich bottom-lands and vast forests, and made a splendid base for a raid into the Spanish provinces.
Recruits were added daily to Burr's forces. He told them as much or as little of his schemes as he thought advisable. To some he said that he was a secret agent of the government, to others that he only meant to start a new pioneer settlement. If there should be war with Spain the men who followed him would share in the spoils, if victorious. If there was no war they would be ready to protect the border against invaders.
There were some people, however, who could not get over their distrust of Burr because of what he had done. The mysterious preparations at Blennerhassett Island caused some uneasiness in the neighborhood, and on October 6th a mass meeting of the people of Wood County, Virginia, was held, and the military preparations on the island were denounced. Blennerhassett was away at the time, but his wife, hearing of the meeting, grew uneasy, and sent her gardener, Peter Taylor, to tell her husband this news. Taylor found the conspirators at Lexington, and gave them Mrs. Blennerhassett's message. The gardener was evidently taken into his master's confidence, because he said later that the plan was "to take Mexico, one of the finest and richest places in the whole world." He added, "Colonel Burr would be the King of Mexico, and Mrs. Alston, daughter of Colonel Burr, was to be Queen of Mexico, whenever Colonel Burr died.... Colonel Burr had made fortunes for many in his time, but none for himself; but now he was going to make something for himself. He said that he had a great many friends in the Spanish territory; no less than two thousand Roman Catholic priests were engaged, and all their friends would join, if once he could get to them; that the Spaniards, like the French, had got dissatisfied with their government, and wanted to swap it."
President Jefferson could no longer overlook the adventures of Burr and his friends. He knew that very little was needed to kindle the flame of war on the Mexican border. But he had his hands full with foreign affairs; England was making trouble for American sailors, and Napoleon was setting the whole world by the ears. So the busy President wrote to his agents in the West and urged them to keep a secret watch over Colonel Burr and Blennerhassett Island.
War with Spain almost came that summer. There were many disputed boundary lines between the United States and the Spanish colonies. The Spanish troops in Florida, Texas, and Mexico were prepared for an attack from the United States, and Spanish agents were urging Indian tribes to rise against the white men. Men protested in Western cities and towns. The people of Orleans Territory were afraid that Spain was going to try to win back their country by force of arms. On the 4th of July, 1806, the people of New Orleans held a great patriotic celebration, and in the evening a play called, "Washington; or the Liberty of the New World," was acted to a huge audience. Even the Creoles, who were more Spanish than Anglo-Saxon, were eager to fight against the old tyranny of Spain.
In the midst of this war excitement word came that a man born in Venezuela, named Francesco Miranda, had sailed from New York to free his native country from Spanish rule. Miranda was looked upon as a hero and patriot by many people in the United States, and this encouraged Burr and his friends.
There were in 1806 about one thousand soldiers in Texas, which was then a province of Mexico. These troops were ordered to cross the Sabine River, which formed a part of the disputed boundary, and as soon as they did cross the governor of Louisiana called for volunteers, and the people of Mississippi Territory prepared to march to the aid of New Orleans. The meeting place of the volunteers was Natchitoches, and there hundreds of countrymen came flocking, armed, and eager to defend Louisiana. Everything seemed ready for Aaron Burr to launch his great adventure. But at this point Burr's former friend, General James Wilkinson, the governor of Louisiana, changed his mind as to the wisdom of Burr's schemes. He would not give the order to the volunteers to march to the Mexican border, but waited, hoping that President Jefferson would prevent the war by diplomacy, or that the Spanish troops would decide to retreat.
On September 27th a great crowd in Nashville hailed Colonel Burr as the deliverer of the Southwest, and Andrew Jackson proclaimed, "Millions for defense; not one cent for tribute;" and at the same time the Mexican General Herrera ordered his troops to retreat from the River Sabine. Danger of war was over, and the moment the flag of Spain left the Louisiana shore, Burr's dream of an empire for himself and his friends vanished.
General Wilkinson knew that the government in Washington was suspicious of Aaron Burr's plans, and he thought that his name was included among those of Burr's friends. Some newspapers had even linked their names together, and the general, knowing perhaps the treachery of his own thoughts, now decided to prove his patriotism by accusing Aaron Burr and the others of treason. All the time that he was making a treaty with the Mexican general on the Texan frontier he was also working up a strong case against Burr. He saw to it that the agents put all suspicion on the shoulders of the others, and made him appear as the one man who had tried his best to protect his country. He intended to show that not only was he not a traitor, but that he was able to unmask traitors, by having pretended to join with them earlier.
In his sudden eagerness to prevent war with the Mexicans, General Wilkinson made terms of peace with them, which proved a great disadvantage to the United States at a later date, but which pleased the peace party of the day. He met the Mexican general at the very time when Burr and his allies were ready to launch their fleet of boats on the Mississippi River. Then Wilkinson made haste to raise the cry of "Treason in the West," which was to echo through the United States for months, and ruin the reputation of many men.
President Jefferson trusted Wilkinson, and when he heard the latter's charges against Burr he sent a special messenger to see what was happening at Blennerhassett Island. Before the messenger reached the Alleghany Mountains, however, another man had accused Burr in the court at Frankfort, Kentucky, of having broken the laws of the country in starting an expedition against Mexico. Burr said that he could easily answer these charges, and sent a message to Blennerhassett, telling him not to be disturbed. He went to the court at Frankfort, and when the man who had accused him could not bring his witnesses the matter was promptly dropped. Burr was more a hero than ever to the people of Frankfort. They agreed with a leading newspaper that said, "Colonel Burr has throughout this business conducted himself with the calmness, moderation, and firmness which have characterized him through life. He evinced an earnest desire for a full and speedy investigation—free from irritation or emotion; he excited the strongest sensation of respect and friendship in the breast of every impartial person present."
Burr then went back to Lexington, and continued raising money to buy a fleet of boats. Andrew Jackson had already received three thousand dollars in Kentucky for this purpose. Blennerhassett went on enrolling volunteers. It looked as if Burr's conduct at Frankfort had put an end to the rumors of treason.
General Wilkinson, however, was still anxious to make a name for himself as a great patriot, and he kept sending alarming messages to Washington. He accused his former friend of all sorts of treason. It was also perfectly clear that a large number of boats were being gathered on the Ohio under orders of Burr and his friends, and so President Jefferson sent word to the officers at Marietta to post one hundred and fifty or two hundred soldiers on the river to prevent Burr's fleet sailing. With the news of this order people in the West began to suspect their former hero, and even some of his old allies grew doubtful of his patriotism.
Wilkinson increased the alarm by orders he gave in New Orleans as governor of Louisiana Territory. He began to make military arrests, locking up all those he distrusted, and all those who were admirers of Aaron Burr. He had gunboats stationed in the river, and they were ordered to fire on Burr's fleet if it ever got that far, and he refused to allow any boats to ascend the Mississippi without his express permission. All this preparation caused great excitement in New Orleans, which spread through the neighboring country. It seemed as if General Wilkinson were trying to force the people to believe there was some great conspiracy on foot.
The colonel and his allies tried to explain that their fleet of boats was simply to carry settlers, arms and provisions into the Bastrop tract of land that they had bought; but by now nobody would believe them. On December 9, 1806, the boats that Blennerhassett had been gathering on the Muskingum River were seized by order of the governor of Ohio. Patrols were placed along the Ohio River, and the militia called out to capture Blennerhassett and the men with him. The next day the Virginia militia declared that they meant to find out the secret of Blennerhassett Island. The owner and his friend, Comfort Tyler, had word of this, and at once prepared for flight. At midnight they left the island and started down the Ohio by boat. The Virginia troops arrived to find the place deserted, and, leaving sentinels there, started in pursuit of Blennerhassett. The next day the sentries captured a flatboat with fourteen boys on board, who were coming from Pittsburgh to join Burr. People along the Ohio began to expect attacks from Burr's recruits. Cincinnati was especially alarmed. One of the newspapers there stated that three of Burr's armed boats were anchored near the city, which they meant to attack. That night some practical joker exploded a bomb, and the people thought that Burr's army was firing on them. The citizens armed, and the militia was called out, but when they came to inspect the boats on the river next day they found that those they thought belonged to Burr were vessels of a Louisville merchant loaded with dry-goods. No story was now too wild to be believed when it was attached to the name of Burr or Blennerhassett.
Burr now only intended to sail down to his own lands. On December 20th he sent word to Blennerhassett that he would be at the mouth of the Cumberland River on the twenty-third. Two days later he put a number of horses on one of his boats, and with a few men to help him, floated down the Cumberland River to its mouth, where Blennerhassett and the rest of their party were waiting for him. They joined their seven boats to his two vessels, and had a fleet of nine ships with about sixty men on board. On December 28th they sailed down the Ohio, and the next night anchored a little below Fort Massac.
Country people along the river saw the flotilla pass, and sent word of it to the nearest military post. The captain there stopped all ships, but found nothing suspicious on any of them. "Colonel Burr, late Vice-President," the officer reported, "passed this way with about ten boats of different descriptions, navigated with about six men each, having nothing on board that would even suffer a conjecture more than that he was a man bound to market. He has descended the river toward Orleans."
On the last day of 1806 the fleet reached the broad waters of the Mississippi River. Four days later they dropped anchor at Chickasaw Bluffs, now the city of Memphis. Again officers boarded the boats, and after examining the cargoes allowed them to go on their voyage. On January 10th they reached Mississippi Territory, and here they found the excitement intense.
The fleet was now in territory that was under the charge of General Wilkinson, and he immediately sent three hundred and seventy-five soldiers from Natchez to prevent Burr's further progress. On January 16th two officers rowed out to the boats, and were received pleasantly by Colonel Burr, who laughed at General Wilkinson's suspicions, and, pointing to his peaceful flotilla, asked if it looked as if it were meant for war? When he was told that the soldiers had orders to stop him, he answered that he was willing to appear in court at any time. This satisfied the two officers, who asked him to ride next day to the town of Washington, which was the capital of Mississippi Territory, and appear before the court there. Burr agreed, and early next morning rode to Washington with the two officers who had called on him. There he was charged with having conspired against the United States government. His friends on the river remained on their boats, waiting for his return. The expedition never went any farther.
Burr promised to stay in the Territory until the charges against him were cleared up. His charm of manner won him many friends, and people would not believe him a traitor. When the grand jury met they decided that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason. The judge, however, would not set him free, and Burr realized that General Wilkinson was using all his power against him. He thought that his only chance of safety lay in defying the court, and taking the advice of some friends fled to a hiding-place near the home of Colonel Osmun, an old acquaintance. He meant to leave that part of the country, but the severe weather blocked his plans. Heavy rains had swollen all the streams, and he had to change his route. He set out with one companion, but had to ask a farmer the road to the house of Colonel Hinson. The farmer suspected that one of the horsemen was Aaron Burr, and knew that a large reward had been offered for his capture. He carried his news to the sheriff, and then to the officers at Fort Stoddert. A lieutenant from the fort with four soldiers joined the farmer, and, mounting fast horses, they rode after the two men. Early the next morning they came up with them. The lieutenant demanded in the name of the government of the United States whether one of the horsemen was Colonel Burr. Aaron Burr admitted his name, and was put under arrest. He was taken to the fort, and held there as a fugitive from justice.
The cry of "Treason in the West" had been heard all over the country. The great expedition against Mexico had dwindled to a small voyage to settle certain timber-lands. The formidable fleet was only nine ordinary river boats. The army of rebels had shrunk to less than sixty peaceful citizens; and the store of arms and ammunition had been reduced to a few rifles and powder-horns. Moreover Aaron Burr had neither attempted to fight nor to resist arrest. He had merely fled when he thought he stood little chance of a fair trial. Yet the cry of treason had so alarmed the country that the government found it necessary to try the man who had so nearly defeated Jefferson for the Presidency.
Orders were sent to bring Aaron Burr east. After a journey that lasted twenty-one days the prisoner was lodged in the Eagle Tavern in Richmond, Virginia. Here Chief-Justice Marshall examined the charges against Burr, and held him in bail to appear at the next term of court. The bail was secured, and on the afternoon of April 1st Burr was once more set at liberty. From then until the day of the trial interest in the case grew. Everywhere people discussed the question whether Aaron Burr had been a traitor to his country. By the time for the hearing of the case feeling against him ran high. When court met on May 22, 1807, Richmond was crowded with many of the most prominent men of the time, drawn by the charges against a man who had so lately been Vice-President.
It was not until the following August that Colonel Burr was actually put on trial. The question was simply whether he had planned to make war against the United States. There were many witnesses, led by the faithless General Wilkinson, who were ready to declare that the purpose of the meetings at Blennerhassett Island was to organize an army to divide the western country from the rest of the republic. Each side was represented by famous lawyers; and the battle was hard fought. In the end, however, the jury found that Aaron Burr was not guilty of treason. No matter what Burr and Blennerhassett and their friends had planned to do in Mexico, the jury could not believe they had been so mad as to plot a war against the United States.
Burr, although now free, was really a man without a country. He went to England and France, and in both countries engaged in plans for freeing the colonies of Spain. But both in England and in France the people looked upon him with suspicion, remembering his strange history. At the end of four years he returned to the United States. Here he found that some of his early plans were coming to fulfilment. Revolts were breaking out in Florida, in Mexico, and in some of the West Indies. He was allowed no part in any of these uprisings. Florida became a part of the United States, and in time Burr saw the men of Texas begin a struggle for freedom from Mexico. When he read the news of this, he exclaimed, "There! You see! I was right! I was only thirty years too soon. What was treason in me thirty years ago is patriotism now!" Later he was asked whether he had really planned to divide the Union when he started on his voyage from Blennerhassett Island. He answered, "No; I would as soon have thought of taking possession of the moon, and informing my friends that I intended to divide it among them."
Such is the story of Aaron Burr, a real soldier of fortune, who wanted to carve out a new country for himself, and came to be "a man without a country."
IV
HOW THE YOUNG REPUBLIC FOUGHT THE BARBARY PIRATES
I
Long after pirates had been swept from the Western Ocean they flourished in the Mediterranean Sea. They hailed from the northern coast of Africa, where between the Mediterranean and the desert of Sahara stretched what were known as the Barbary States. These states were Morocco, Algeria, Tunis, Tripoli, and the tiny state of Barca, which was usually included in Tripoli. Algeria, or, as it was commonly called from the name of its capital, Algiers, was the home of most of the Mediterranean pirates.
There was hardly a port in the whole of that inland sea that had not seen a fleet of the pirates' boats sweep down upon some innocent merchant vessel, board her, overpower the crew, and carry them off to be sold in the African slave-markets. Their ships were usually square-rigged sailing vessels, which were commonly called galleons. The pirates did not trust to cannon, and the peculiar shape of the ships gave them a good chance for hand-to-hand fighting. The dark-skinned crew would climb out on the long lateen yards that hung over their enemies' deck, and drop from the yards and from the rigging, their sabers held between their teeth, their loaded pistols stuck in their belts, so that they might have free use of their hands for climbing and clinging to ropes and gunwales.
Strange as it seems, the great countries of Europe made no real effort to destroy these pirates of the Barbary coast, but instead actually paid them bribes in order to protect their crews. The larger countries thought that, as they could afford to pay the tribute that the pirates demanded, and their smaller rivals could not, the pirates might actually serve them by annoying other countries. So England and France, and the other big nations of Europe, put up with all sorts of insults at the hands of these Moorish buccaneers, and many times their consuls were ill-treated and their sailors made to work in slave-gangs because they had not paid as much tribute as the Moors demanded.
Many an American skipper fell into the hands of these corsairs. The brig Polly of Newburyport, Massachusetts, was heading for the Spanish port of Cadiz in October, 1793, when she was overhauled by a brig flying the English flag. As the brig came near her captain hailed the Polly in English, asking where she was bound. Meanwhile the brig ran close in beside the Polly, and the Americans saw a large number of men, Moors by the look of their beards and dress, spring up from under the rail. This crew launched a big boat, and nearly one hundred men, armed with swords, pistols, spears, and knives, were rowed up to the Polly. The Moors sprang on board. The Yankees were greatly outnumbered, and were driven into the cabin, while the pirates broke open all the trunks and chests, and stripped the brig of everything that could be moved. The prisoners were then rowed to the Moorish ship, which sailed for Algiers. There they were landed and marched to the palace of the Dey, or ruler of Algiers, while the people clapped their hands, shouted, and gave thanks for the capture of so many "Christian dogs." They were put in prison, where they found other Americans, and nearly six hundred Christians of other countries, all of whom were treated as slaves. On the next day each captive was loaded with chains, fastened around his waist and joined to a ring about his ankle. They were then set to work in rigging and fitting out ships, in blasting rocks in the mountains, or carrying stones for the palace the Dey was building. Their lot was but little better than that of the slaves of olden times who worked for the Pharaohs. As more American sailors were captured and made slaves their friends at home grew more and more eager to put an end to these pirates, and when the Revolution was over the young Republic of the United States began to heed the appeals for help that came from the slave-markets along the Barbary coast.
The Republic found, however, that so long as England and France were paying tribute to the pirates it would be easier for her to do the same thing than to fight them. The American Navy was very small, and the Mediterranean was far distant. England seemed actually to be encouraging the pirates, thinking that their attacks on American ships would injure the country that had lately won its independence. So the United States made the best terms it could with the rulers of Algiers, Morocco, Tunis, and Tripoli, and paid heavy ransoms for the release of the captives. There was little self-respect or honor among the Moorish chiefs, however. One Dey succeeded another, each more greedy than the last, and each demanded more tribute money or threatened to seize all the Americans he could lay hands upon. The consuls had to be constantly making presents in order to keep the Moors in a good humor, and whenever the Dey felt the need of more money he would demand it of the United States consul, and threaten to throw him in prison if he refused.
This state of affairs was very unpleasant for free men, but for a number of years it had to be put up with. When Captain Bainbridge dropped anchor off Algiers in command of the United States frigate George Washington, the Dey demanded that he should carry a Moorish envoy to Constantinople with presents for the Sultan of Turkey. Bainbridge did not like to be treated as a messenger boy; but the Dey said, "You pay me tribute, by which you become my slaves. I have, therefore, a right to order you as I may think proper." Bainbridge had no choice but to obey the command, or leave American merchant vessels at the mercy of the Moors, and so he carried the Dey's presents to the Sultan.
As all the Barbary States throve on war, in that way gaining support from the enemies of the country they attacked, one or the other was constantly making war. In May, 1801, the Pasha of Tripoli declared war against the United States, cut down the American flagstaff at his capital, and sent out his pirate ships. In reply the United States ordered a squadron of four vessels under command of Commodore Richard Dale to sail to the Mediterranean. This squadron did good service, capturing a number of the galleys of Tripoli, and exchanging Moorish prisoners for American slaves. But the pirates were like a swarm of hornets; they stung wherever they got a chance, and as soon as the war-ships were out of sight they would steal out from their hiding-places to terrorize the coast. The United States had to keep sending squadrons to act as policemen. When the fleet kept together the Moors had proper respect for them, but once the ships separated they became the target for the hornets.
The frigate Philadelphia, of thirty-six guns, was detailed in October, 1803, to blockade the port of Tripoli. The morning after she reached there she saw a ship inshore preparing to sail westward. The frigate gave chase, and as the other vessel carried the colors of Tripoli, the frigate opened fire. As she chased the Moor the Philadelphia ran on a shelving rock that was part of a long reef. Her crew worked hard to get her off, but she stuck fast. As the Moors on shore saw the plight of the Philadelphia they manned their boats, and soon she was surrounded by a swarm of pirate galleys. The galleys sailed under the fire of the frigate's heavy guns, and came up to close quarters, where the cannon could not reach them. The Americans were helpless, and by sunset Commodore Bainbridge had to strike his flag. As soon as he surrendered the Moors swarmed over the sides of his ship, broke everything they could lay their hands on, stripped officers and men of their uniforms, and tumbled them into the small boats. The prisoners were landed at night, and led to the castle gate. The sailors were treated as slaves, but the officers were received by the Pasha in the great marble-paved hall of his palace, where that ruler, dressed in silks and jewels, and surrounded by a gorgeous court, asked them many questions, and later offered them supper. But the favor of the Pasha was as fickle as the wind; within a day or two he was treating the American officers much as he treated his other Christian captives, and the crew, three hundred and seven in number, were worked as slaves. Meantime the Moors, using anchors and cables, succeeded in pulling the Philadelphia off the reef, and the frigate was pumped out and made seaworthy. She was brought into the harbor, to the delight of the Pasha and his people at owning so fine a war-ship. The loss of the Philadelphia was a severe blow, not only to American pride, but to American fortunes. The squadron was now much too small for service, and Bainbridge and his crew were hostages the United States must redeem.
It fell to the lot of Commodore Preble to take charge of the American ships in the Mediterranean, and he began to discuss terms of peace with Tripoli through an agent of the Pasha at Malta. By these terms the frigate Philadelphia was to be exchanged for a schooner, and the Moorish prisoners in Preble's hands, sixty in number, were to be exchanged for as many of the American prisoners in Tripoli, and the rest of the American captives were to be ransomed at five hundred dollars a man. Before these terms were agreed upon, however, a more daring plan occurred to the American commodore, and on February 3, 1804, he entrusted a delicate task to Stephen Decatur, who commanded the schooner Enterprise. Decatur picked a volunteer crew, put them on board the ships Siren and Intrepid, and sailed for Tripoli. They reached that port on February 7th, and to avoid suspicion the Intrepid drew away from the other ship and anchored after dark about a mile west of the town. A small boat with a pilot and midshipman was sent in to reconnoiter the harbor. They reported that the sea was breaking across the western entrance, and as the weather was threatening advised Decatur not to try to enter that night. The two American ships therefore stood offshore, and were driven far to the east by a gale. The weather was so bad that it was not until February 16th that they returned to Tripoli. This time the Intrepid sailed slowly toward the town, while the Siren, disguised as a merchantman, kept some distance in the rear.
The frigate Philadelphia, now the Pasha's prize ship, lay at anchor in the harbor, and the Intrepid slowly drifted toward her in the light of the new moon. No one on ship or shore realized the real purpose of the slowly-moving Intrepid. Had the men at the forts on shore or the watchman at the Pasha's castle suspected her purpose they could have blown her from the water with their heavy guns.
The Intrepid drifted closer and closer, with her crew hidden, except for six or eight men dressed as Maltese sailors. Decatur stood by the pilot at the helm. When the little ship was about one hundred yards from the Philadelphia she was hailed and ordered to keep away. The pilot answered that his boat had lost her anchor in the storm, and asked permission to make fast to the frigate for the night. This was given, and the Moorish officer on the Philadelphia asked what the ship in the distance was. The pilot said that she was the Transfer, a vessel lately purchased at Malta by the Moors, which was expected at Tripoli about that time. The pilot kept on talking in order to lull the Moors' suspicions, and meantime the little Intrepid came close under the port bow of the Philadelphia. Just then the wind shifted and held the schooner away from the frigate, and directly in range of her guns. Again the Moors had a chance to destroy the American boat and crew if they had known her real object. They did not suspect it, however. Each ship sent out a small boat with a rope, and when the ropes were joined the two ships were drawn close together.
When the vessels were almost touching some one on the Philadelphia suddenly shouted, "Americanos!" At the same moment Decatur gave the order "Board!" and the American crew sprang over the side of the frigate and jumped to her deck. The Moors were huddled on the forecastle. Decatur formed his men in line and charged. The surprised Moors made little resistance, and Decatur quickly cleared the deck of them; some jumped into the sea, and others escaped in a large boat. The Americans saw that they could not get the Philadelphia safely out of the harbor, and so quickly brought combustibles from the Intrepid, and stowing them about the Philadelphia, set her on fire. In a very few minutes she was in flames, and the Americans jumped from her deck to their own ship. It took less than twenty minutes to capture and fire the Philadelphia.
Decatur ordered his men to the oars, and the Intrepid beat a retreat from the harbor. But now the town of Tripoli was fully aroused. The forts opened fire on the little schooner. A ship commanded the channel through which she had to sail, but fortunately for the Intrepid the Moors' aim was poor, and the only shot that struck her was one through the topgallantsail. The harbor was brightly lighted now. The flames had run up the mast and rigging of the Philadelphia, and as they reached the powder loud explosions echoed over the sea. Presently the cables of the frigate burned, and the Philadelphia drifted ashore and blew up. In the meantime the Intrepid reached the entrance safely, and joining the Siren set sail for Syracuse.
The blowing up of the Philadelphia was one of the most daring acts ever attempted by the United States Navy, and won Decatur great credit. It weakened the Pasha's strength, and kept his pirate crews in check. Instead of making terms with the Moorish ruler, the United States decided to attack his capital, and in the summer of 1804, Commodore Preble collected his squadron before Tripoli. On August 3d the fleet approached the land batteries, and in the afternoon began to throw shells into the town. The Moors immediately opened fire, both from the forts and from their fleet of nineteen gunboats and two galleys that lay in the harbor. Preble divided his ships, and ordered them to close in on the enemy's vessels, although the latter outnumbered them three to one. Again Decatur was the hero of the fight. He and his men boarded a Moorish gunboat and fought her crew hand-to-hand across the decks. He captured the first vessel, and then boarded a second. Decatur singled out the captain, a gigantic Moor, and made for him. The Moor thrust at him with a pike, and Decatur's cutlass was broken off at the hilt. Another thrust of the pike cut his arm, but the American seized the weapon, tore it away, and threw himself on the Moor. The crews were fighting all around their leaders, and a Moorish sailor aimed a blow at Decatur's head with a scimitar. An American seaman struck the blow aside, and the scimitar gashed his own scalp. The Moorish captain, stronger than Decatur, got him underneath, and drawing a knife, was about to kill him, when Decatur caught the Moor's arm with one hand, thrust his other hand into his pocket, and fired his revolver. The Moor was killed, and Decatur sprang to his feet. Soon after the enemy's crew surrendered. The other United States ships had been almost as successful, and the battle taught the Americans that the Barbary pirates could be beaten in hand-to-hand fighting as well as at long range.