The next year the Bashaw of Tripoli, who had had no tribute from the United States, began to be very uneasy in his mind because he did not fare so well as the other Barbary potentates, to whom money and merchandise were delivered every year. He accordingly spoke up in defense of his rights. It is not likely that he knew where the United States was, what sort of a country it was, or how large or how small its army and navy might be. He knew that the Americans were miserable, humble people, who paid tribute to the Bey and the Dey, and he could see no particular reason why they should not pay it to the Bashaw. Consequently he wrote a letter to the President of the United States, in which he expressed his views very pointedly, and informed him, that, if proper arrangements were not made in six months, he would destroy all the American ships on the Mediterranean, and declare war against the United States.

Strange to say, a thrill of terror did not run through the government of the United States; and six months passed without any notice having been taken of this impertinent communication. Thereupon the Bashaw cut down the flag pole in front of the American consul's office at Tripoli, and commenced the great work of annihilating the United States of America. He began on the small American trading vessels which he found along the Barbary Coast, intending probably, when his convenience would permit, to sail out upon the Atlantic, find the United States, and help himself to the treasures which its government had so disrespectfully declined to hand over to him. The example of the Bashaw had a great effect upon the Dey and the Bey and the sub-Sultan; and Algiers, Tunis, and Morocco also informed the President of the United States that they were going to war with him if he did not immediately promise to pay tribute more regularly and in articles of better quality.

But the United States was getting tired of this sort of thing, and determined, no matter what the other civilized powers chose to do, that no more tribute should be paid by it to these insolent pirates. Consequently our government informed the mighty monarchs of the Barbary Coast that it was quite ready for war, and sent four ships to the Mediterranean, one of which, the "Essex," was commanded by Bainbridge.

But the fleet did not do very much on this expedition, and the war with North Africa dragged considerably. Bainbridge came back to America, and after a time returned in command of the "Philadelphia." There was a small squadron with him, but he sailed faster than the other vessels, and reached the Mediterranean alone. Here he overhauled a Moorish vessel which had captured an American brig under a commission from Morocco. Having rescued the American vessel, the crew of which were prisoners in the pirates' hold, the "Philadelphia" took the Moorish vessel as a prize to Gibraltar, and then started out again to see what could be done to humble the port of Tripoli.

In this undertaking our Jerseyman did not meet with good fortune. In chasing a Tripolitan vessel which was discovered near the harbor, the "Philadelphia" ran upon a reef, and there stuck fast. Everything was done that could be done to get her off; even the cannon were thrown overboard to lighten her, but it was of no use. She was hard and fast; and when the people of Tripoli found out what had happened, their gunboats came out of the harbor, and the "Philadelphia" was captured, and all on board, including Bainbridge, were made prisoners. They were taken to Tripoli, and there remained in captivity nineteen months. Now the soul of the Bey swelled high in his bosom as he smiled at this attempt of the little country across the ocean to resist his power.

The Tripolitans found that they had gained a great prize in the "Philadelphia," that fine war ship, which seemed to have been left on the reef as a present to them. After a good deal of work, they towed her into the harbor close to the town, where they repaired her leaks, and put her in order to use against their enemies the Americans, who did not know how to keep a good thing when they had it. When Commodore Preble came, six months afterwards, to blockade the port of Tripoli, he discovered that the "Philadelphia" was nearly ready for sea; and, to prevent the disaster of having a United States ship with United States cannon bear down upon them, he determined to destroy the "Philadelphia," if possible, and an excellent plan for the purpose was devised. A small vessel called the "Intrepid," which had been captured some time previously, was manned with a crew of over eighty men, commanded by Lieutenant Decatur, who, years after, finished the Algerine war.

This brave little vessel sailed into the harbor as if she had been an ordinary merchantman, and managed to drift down close to the fine frigate which the Tripolitans had snatched from their blundering enemy. The crew on board the "Philadelphia" did not suspect the character of the little vessel which came so close to them, until she was made fast, and more than eighty men sprang up from the places where they had been lying concealed on deck, and swarmed over the side of the frigate.

Among these was a young sailor, Lawrence, from Burlington, N.J., who had begun life early, having been a midshipman when he was only sixteen years old. When Commodore Preble asked for volunteers to go on this expedition to snatch from the hands of the pirates the prize which they thought they had won, Lawrence was one of the first volunteers, and acted as second in command of this expedition.

The fight was not long. Many of the turbaned crew jumped overboard, and the others were quickly subdued. It would have been a grand thing if Decatur and his gallant sailors could have carried off the "Philadelphia," and have taken her out to the squadron. But this was absolutely impossible. Her foremast had been cut down in order to lighten her so that she could be floated off the reef, and many of her sails were wanting. Knowing that the vessel would not be found in sailing trim, Preble had issued positive orders that no attempt should be made to capture her, but that she should be burned.

The cannon from the town and from the war vessels in the port now began to fire; but the men with Decatur and Lawrence knew exactly what they had to do, everything having been carefully arranged beforehand. They went to work without losing a minute, and set fire to the frigate in many places. The flames and the smoke spread so rapidly that some of them had hardly time to get out of the hold. Lieutenant Lawrence found he could not get on deck the way he came down, and was obliged to run along the hold and climb up forward. As quickly as possible every one jumped on board the "Intrepid," and, without relying entirely on their sails to enable them to get away, they put out sixteen great oars, which were pulled with a will by three or four men to each oar.

Now the whole harbor of Tripoli was in wild commotion. The Americans stopped rowing for a moment to give three great cheers, and soon cannon shot were flying fast and furious after the retreating little vessel. But only one of them touched her, and that passed through a sail without doing much damage; and she rowed until her sails caught the wind, and then went out of the harbor, and returned in triumph to the squadron.

Soon after they had left the "Philadelphia," that great vessel, with her hull blazing and the flames crackling and climbing up her masts, took it upon herself, in these last minutes of her existence, to strike a blow for the flag of her country. Possibly suspecting that some attempt might be made to rescue the ship they had captured, the Tripolitans had loaded all her cannon so as to be ready to fire upon any vessel that might approach her. As the fire spread over her hull, the time came when the "Philadelphia" could do something for herself; and when the guns were hot enough, she let fly a broadside into the town, and then another one among the shipping. How much damage she did, we do not know; but the soul of the Bashaw ceased to swell as he heard the roar of her last broadsides, and beheld her burning fragments scattered over the waters of the harbor.

But when the Bashaw of Tripoli imprisoned Bainbridge, and even after he had seen the frigate he had captured disappear in flames and smoke, he found he was not yet rid of Jersey sailors. Some months afterwards, when Commodore Preble was still off the Barbary Coast, there was a vessel in the squadron called the "Nautilus," which was commanded by a young Jerseyman named Somers. He was a brave sailor, and had already distinguished himself on several occasions.

Fighting the Bey was a good deal like trying to get at a rat in a hole, and, although there were some good fights in the Tripolitan waters, the fleet did not meet with much success at first. But the Americans were very anxious to do something effective, for at that time Bainbridge and his crew were imprisoned in the town, and no one knew what hardships and cruelties they might be enduring.

After much consideration it was thought that a good way to strike a decisive blow would be to send a vessel loaded with shells and gunpowder into the harbor of Tripoli by night, and explode her there. This might result, it was thought, in the destruction of the forts and ships, and possibly part of the town, and so terrify the Bey that he would come to terms. Lieutenant Somers, who had been foremost in contriving this project, volunteered to command the expedition. The whole affair was so extremely dangerous that no one was ordered to take part in it, and all those who wished to go went of their own free will.

The "Intrepid," the small vessel on which Decatur and Lawrence had sailed to burn the "Philadelphia," was still with the fleet, and this was heavily loaded with explosives of all kinds. The plan was, that after nightfall the "Intrepid" should be sailed as near as possible to the town, and that, after lighting the slow match which communicated with the terrible cargo, those on board should take to two small boats which they had in tow, and row out of the harbor as fast as possible, leaving there the "Intrepid" to hurl fire and destruction into the enemy's strongholds.

Before Somers started out on this perilous voyage, he addressed the few men who were to accompany him, and told them that he wanted no one to go who would not be willing to blow himself up rather than be captured. It was well known that the Tripolitans were short of ammunition, and if they suspected what sort of a vessel it was which floated by night into the harbor, they would board her and capture her, if it should be possible, and thus gain possession of a great quantity of powder and shell. Rather than that this should happen, Somers told his men that he would blow up the little vessel with all on board, if the enemy should take it. But no man flinched; and after they had all taken leave of their friends on the fleet, as if they had been going to execution, the "Intrepid" slowly sailed away into the harbor, and it was not long before she was lost to view in the mists of the night.

But after a time it became apparent to those on the American fleet that she was not lost to view to those in the harbor, for the guns of the fort began to fire on her. Everybody who had a glass kept it fixed on that part of the harbor where it was supposed Somers and his little vessel must be, and in course of time they saw a light rapidly moving as if some one were carrying a lantern from one end of the vessel to the other. Then in less than a minute there was a blaze and a roar, and the whole harbor of Tripoli was lighted up as if there had been an explosion of fireworks. Sparks and fiery fragments flew into the air, and the waters seemed to be shaken as if by an earthquake. Then all was silent and dark.

Of course, the "Intrepid" had blown up, but how or why nobody on the fleet could know; nor did Somers and his brave crew ever come back to tell them. Some people thought, and still think, that the "Intrepid" was about to be captured, and that Somers carried out his resolution to blow up the vessel under him rather than allow it to be taken. Others suppose that a red-hot cannon ball from one of the forts may have set the vessel on fire; but the truth no one knows. We only know that this brave young Jerseyman went out to his fate determined to do his duty, no matter what happened, and that he died in doing it.

SEA FIGHTS WITH A NOBLER FOE.

He sailed down the coast of South America, and there he met the "Java," a British frigate. He had a hard fight and a long fight, and the end of it was that the "Java" hauled down her flag after having a great portion of her crew killed and wounded; and, as she was so thoroughly shattered and broken up by the guns of the "Constitution," the victors could not take her home as a prize, but were obliged to burn her.

If any one had been inclined to deride the Jerseyman at sea, after what had happened to Bainbridge in the Mediterranean, he changed his opinion after the affair with the "Java." In fact, a gold medal was voted to the gallant captain by Congress. When the war with Great Britain was over, Bainbridge took a squadron to the Mediterranean to try his hand again at protecting American commerce, and humbling the pirates; but fortune did not favor him this time, for Decatur had already settled the matter with the Dey, the Bey, and the rest of them, and peace was declared before Bainbridge arrived on the scene. Our Jersey sailor did not do any more fighting, but he held high positions in our navy, and died an honored commodore.

Years after the affair with the "Philadelphia," when war had begun between the United States and Great Britain, there was a great chance for America to show what she could do on the sea. Then the fighting men in ships were more important to the country than the fighting men on shore; and Captain Lawrence, our fighting sailor from Burlington, showed himself among the foremost of our naval heroes.

Very early in the war he was in command of the "Hornet," a snappish vessel with more stings than one, and while cruising in South American waters he met the British man-of-war "Peacock." Now, when a hornet and a peacock quarrel, lively times are likely to ensue, and so it happened in this case.

The two vessels began by endeavoring to get into favorable positions, each anxious to rake the deck of the other. The "Peacock" did not spread her tail, but she spread her sail, and the "Hornet" buzzed this way and that, with her stings ready for action as soon as the proper moment should arrive. When at last they actually began to fight, the battle was a terrible one, such as was possible only in those days of wooden ships. But a short distance apart, they poured into each other heavy shot and small shot; musketry and cannon cracked and roared, while the clouds of smoke nearly hid the vessels from each other. This tremendous bombardment lasted about a quarter of an hour, and at the end of that time the "Peacock" struck her colors and surrendered. The captain and a good many of the crew had been killed, and the vessel was in such a demolished condition that there was not time to get all the prisoners and the wounded on board the "Hornet." The officers and men of the American vessel labored hard to save those on board their unfortunate enemy; but the "Peacock" sank before this could be entirely accomplished, and several of the British sailors, with three of those from the "Hornet," sank with her.

Captain Lawrence was not only a brave man, but he was a very kind one. He treated the officers and crew of the "Peacock" so well, even providing them with clothes (for they had no time to bring anything from their own vessel), that when the prisoners reached New York, the officers publicly thanked him in a paper which they drew up and signed. This victory, following our other brilliant exploits at sea, gave Lawrence great fame both here and abroad.

A few months after the battle between the "Hornet" and the "Peacock," Lawrence was again the hero of a great sea fight. The coast of New England was blockaded by a British fleet, and in the harbor of Boston lay the frigate "Chesapeake," commanded by Captain Lawrence. He had been recently appointed to this vessel, and in fact had been in command only ten days when he received a challenge to fight a naval duel.

This proposition came from the captain of the British frigate "Shannon," one of the blockading fleet, about the same size and strength as the "Chesapeake." The British captain sent a very polite letter to Captain Lawrence; for when people propose to fight duels, whether on land or sea, they are always extremely courteous before they begin to try to kill each other. The British captain said, that, as he understood the "Chesapeake" was now ready to go to sea, he would like her to come out and fight the "Shannon" for the honor of their respective flags. He offered the American captain choice of fighting ground inside of certain limits, and promised that the rest of the British fleet should keep far away, so that Captain Lawrence need have no fear of being troubled by any vessel except the "Shannon."

When Captain Lawrence read this challenge, he was as willing to go out and fight the duel as the British captain was anxious to have him do so; but he knew that his vessel was not nearly so well prepared as was the "Shannon." The British ship had been at sea for a long time, she was manned by a crew of brave sailors, and her captain was well acquainted with his ship and his men.

The case was very different with the "Chesapeake." Lawrence had been on board scarcely long enough to find out what sort of a ship she was, but he had been on board long enough to discover that her crew was a very poor one. Many of them were Portuguese, they had not been well drilled, and, worse than that, they did not want to fight. Few of them had been in the service long enough to have a taste for naval warfare; and if they had had their way, they would have let the "Shannon" lie outside until her captain grew gray, before they would go out and accept his challenge. The harbor was much more to their mind.

But Captain Lawrence had no such idea. He accepted the challenge without hesitation, and prepared to go out and fight the duel. He would have been glad enough if he had had a good crew, but he would do his best with the crew he had. He put his ship in fighting trim, and his men in the best order possible, and early on a summer afternoon the "Chesapeake" went out to meet the "Shannon," which was boldly flying the flag of St. George.

In those days, when men-of-war, as well as all other ships, were sailing vessels, the tactics of naval combats were very different from what they are now. Each of the commanders of vessels was obliged to think, not only of what his enemy was about, but what the wind was about. A steamer can take what position she pleases; she can steam far away from her enemy, or she can use her long-range guns, or dash down upon her to break in her sides with her ram. But in the old sailing times, maneuvers were very much more difficult, and if the winds ever desired to stop a sea fight, it often happened that they could do it simply by dying away themselves.

The two ships sailed this way and that, each trying to get a position which would be good for herself and bad for the other; and at last, when they were very close, so near that their captains might have talked with each other, their cannon began to speak. From their mouths came rolling of thunder. From each ship, volleys of great shot swept the decks of the other, while the rattle of musketry became incessant. This tremendous fire was kept up for nearly ten minutes, and in this short time the "Chesapeake" lost nearly one hundred men, killed and wounded, on her upper deck.

Still she had the best of the fight, for in a few minutes she would have taken a position in which she could have raked the decks of the enemy. But unfortunately some of her rigging was shot away, and she could not take advantage of the wind, and did not obey her helm. Nothing could be worse than this; for, with sails flapping wildly in the wind, precision of sailing, so necessary in a sea fight, was absolutely impossible.

But not only was the "Chesapeake" unable to take the position she wanted, but she could not get out of the way, and she drifted against the "Shannon;" and the rigging of the two vessels became entangled, with the "Chesapeake" exposed to the full fire of the guns of the other ship. In this case there was only one thing to be done, and Captain Lawrence was the brave man to do it. He must board the "Shannon," and he and his men must fight her captain and his men hand to hand. There was no use trying to fight any longer with the "Chesapeake's" cannon.

Instantly Lawrence ordered the boarders to be called on deck, and he was ready to put himself at their head and dash on board the "Shannon." He was slightly wounded, but he did not care for that. But now came another misfortune. The man who should have called the boarders to action by the roll of the drum was not on duty, and the bugler was ordered to sound the call. He was so frightened by this awful fight that he ran and hid himself, and when he was pulled out from his retreat, he had not breath enough to blow his bugle. Some of the men were sent below to shout for the boarders and call them on deck,—a very slow procedure at such a time; but before any of them arrived, the brave Lawrence was stretched upon the deck by a musket ball.

The captain of the "Chesapeake" was not immediately killed, but he was mortally wounded; and when he was carried below, he showed that, near death as he was, he was still the bravest man on board. He thought nothing of himself, he thought only of his country and his ship; and his last orders were, "Don't give up the ship. Fight her till she sinks."

But it was not much use trying to fight the "Shannon" any longer; there were no officers on the deck of the "Chesapeake," except two midshipmen, and the British captain saw that he had a good chance to board his enemy. So his crew were soon clambering over the sides of the American vessel. Some wounded officers rushed up from below to help repel this attack. Many of the American sailors fought bravely even at these great odds; but some of the crew, especially the Portuguese, basely deserted their comrades and hurried below. The fight on the deck of the "Chesapeake" was not a long one; and very soon the stars and stripes were hauled down from her masthead, and the British colors hoisted in their place.

So ended the great duel between the "Chesapeake" and the "Shannon," and the last words of the brave Lawrence were never forgotten. "Don't give up the ship" became the watchword of the navy.

After this bloody sea fight, which lasted only fifteen minutes, but in which nearly two hundred and fifty men were killed and wounded, the "Shannon" sailed away for Halifax, taking with her the "Chesapeake," with the dead body of its brave commander on board. When the two vessels entered the harbor, Lawrence lay upon the quarter-deck, wrapped in the great flag of the "Chesapeake," while all the men on the British vessels in the harbor manned their yards, and shouted a wild welcome to the victorious "Shannon." But the flag which floated from the masthead of the British frigate held no more honorable position than that which covered the dead body of the American hero.

THE STORY OF THE TELEGRAPH AND THE STEAMBOAT.

When Professor Morse conceived the idea of communicating between distant points by means of electricity, he was not able to carry out experiments for himself, and having made the acquaintance of Alfred Vail, son of the proprietor of the Iron Works at Speedwell, he gave up his business as a portrait painter and went to Speedwell, where he and Mr. Vail worked hard in experimenting with the new invention. At last, when they thought they had brought it to such a point that they could make practical use of it, they determined to try to send a message through three miles of wire. If that could be done, they believed they could send one to any distance desirable.

Currents of electricity had been sent through long lengths of wire by Mr. Morse in previous experiments, but in these cases nothing more was attempted than signals; no words or message had been sent, and the proposed experiment, therefore, was of great importance. Its success or failure meant success or failure to the magnetic telegraph.

The upper story of a house on the grounds of the Iron Works was one very large room, and round the walls of this they stretched their three miles of wire, until the room was encircled by lines of wire, one above another, but nowhere touching. At one end of this wire was placed a telegraphic instrument, and at the other, another; and with great anxiety, although with strong faith in the success of their work, Mr. Vail sent to Mr. Morse the first real telegraphic message, which ran thus: "A patient waiter is no loser."

The house in which this first message was sent is still standing, near the Whippany River, not far out of Morristown. Alfred Vail and Mr. Morse, assisted by the advice of Professor Joseph Henry, superintendent of the Smithsonian Institution at Washington, continued to work upon the telegraph at Speedwell; and as Mr. Vail furnished the capital, and did a great deal of the most important mechanical work, a large portion of the credit for this wonderful invention is due to him; and the whole system of telegraphy which now encircles and animates the world may be said to have sprung from the Iron Works near Morristown.

Another great invention, as important as the telegraph, made its first appearance before the world in New Jersey. In the frozen waters about the North Pole, on the rivers of Africa, in the seas of China and Japan, on the stormy ocean about Cape Horn, and in almost all navigable waters of the world, are steamboats and steamships,—floating palaces on rivers and lakes, steam yachts and great Atlantic liners, swift war cruisers and line-of-battle ships like floating forts of iron and steel; but the first vessel which was ever propelled by steam paddled its way along the Delaware River, and was made in New Jersey.

In 1787 John Fitch, who was a native of Connecticut, but who lived at that time in Trenton, N.J., where he had been a clock maker and manufacturer of arms, constructed a boat which was moved through the water by means of a steam engine on board. He had long been working on this invention, making experiments, and endeavoring to obtain assistance from people with money. He had applied to Congress to give him the exclusive right to the great results of his work if he should be successful; but this aid was refused.

New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania, however, gave him the right for fourteen years to propel vessels upon the waters of those States; and thus encouraged he built the first steamboat. This little vessel was imperfect in many ways, and its highest speed was four miles an hour; but still it was a steamboat, and it was the first that man had ever seen. Of course, it attracted a good deal of attention; and after it had been proved that it could move without sails or oars, and that it was not dangerous, people began to believe in it, and a steamboat company was organized by Fitch. Another boat was built, which carried passengers who paid their fare, and afterwards a larger boat was constructed, in the hope that a good passenger traffic might be established.

We cannot wonder that there should have been a desire among enterprising people to establish some better method of transportation in travel than existed in the early days of New Jersey. At first the only roads in the State were narrow paths, sometimes more than fifty miles long, but only wide enough for the easy passage of a man on horseback. After that, better roads gradually came into use; and in the beginning of the eighteenth century there was a "stage wagon," intended for the carriage of merchandise, not passengers, which made a trip every two weeks from Perth Amboy to Philadelphia. This was considered as a great public convenience; because, before that, there was no regular method of shipping merchandise from New York to Philadelphia, except by sea.

After a time, stage wagons, which carried passengers, began to run in some parts of New Jersey; and in 1750 a grand stage line was established, intended especially for the transportation of travelers. In an advertisement the proprietor of this line announced to all persons "who have occasion to transport themselves, goods, stores, or merchandise from New York to Philadelphia," that he would take them in "forty-eight hours less than by any other line," and he promised to "use the people in the best manner." It is stated that this trip by land and water between New York and Philadelphia lasted seven or eight days, although it now seems almost impossible to travel so slowly.

Sixteen years afterward, a new and improved line of stage wagons was established, which were faster and very much more comfortable than any which had yet been known. They were actually mounted on springs, and it was promised that the trip would be made in two days in summer, and three days in winter. These stagecoaches were so much swifter than anything else of the kind ever known in the State, that they were called "flying machines."

Fifteen years afterward, the price of conveyance between New York and Philadelphia on one of these "flying machines" was forty shillings in gold or silver for each passenger, and as much for each hundred and fifty pounds of baggage.

The mail facilities in those days were as poor as the methods for transportation; and we can get an idea of the postal arrangements from an extract from a New York paper published in 1704, which states, "In the pleasant month of May, the last storm put our Pennsylvania post a week behind, and has not yet com'd in." But although this was rather slow communication, New Jersey was better off than many of the civilized communities of the day; for she had a regular postal system, which had been invented by Colonel John Hamilton.

Colonel Hamilton's system was considered so good, that the British Government gave him a patent for it, and adopted it for the mother country, it being considered much better than the system then in use. The mails were generally carried in canvas bags by men on horseback; and this method of transportation was known as the "express" as a horse and his rider could go much more rapidly than even the best "flying machines." Mail service in New Jersey greatly improved before the end of the century.

But it was very hard to persuade the public to encourage Fitch's new enterprise, even although it promised cheaper and more rapid transportation than any methods in use; and of course it was still harder, from the fact that the new steamboats had not yet gone faster than a sailing vessel with a good breeze. And so, notwithstanding the value of a system of navigation by which vessels could be made to move whether there was a breeze or not, and in any direction no matter how the wind was blowing, there was very little support to the new steamboat, and the enterprise was so unprofitable that it was given up.

Nearly ten years after Fitch's largest steamboat had been sold as a piece of useless property, Robert Fulton made a steamboat which ran on the Hudson River at the rate of five miles an hour; and after this the practicability of steam navigation began to be slowly acknowledged. But the waters of New Jersey were the first which were ever ruffled by the paddles of a steamboat.

New Jersey has another claim to distinction in connection with steam navigation, for at the Speedwell Iron Works were manufactured some of the larger portions of the machinery of the "Savannah," the first steamship which ever crossed the ocean.

NEW JERSEY AND THE LAND OF GOLD.

He was afterwards transferred to a larger vessel, and was stationed for a time at Gibraltar. There was a very bad feeling at that time between the American naval officers and those of Great Britain. The War of 1812 was over; but the British were not inclined to treat the officers of the United States Navy with the respect which the latter thought was due to them. Stockton was not a man to stand still and allow himself to be treated disrespectfully; and whenever he received anything that seemed like an insult from a British officer, he was ready to fight that officer, whoever he might be. It is said that at one time he challenged all the officers in Gibraltar to meet him in single combat, one after another, and he actually did engage in duels with several of them.

During the British war and the Algerine war, Stockton distinguished himself in various ways, both on land and sea. But in 1821 he undertook a very important enterprise in Africa. Many naval vessels had gone from the United States to Africa, but none of them on an errand such as this. Our gallant Jersey captain did not sail to pay tribute, bombard cities, sink vessels, humble African potentates, or to shed African blood; he went on an errand of charity and humanity.

He sailed from America in the interests of the Colonization Society, and his object was to make arrangements on the west coast of Africa for the establishment of a colony, to be composed of negroes who had been slaves in the United States, but who had obtained their freedom. There were many humane people in the United States who believed that the negroes who had been set free from slavery would be much happier and more likely to prosper in their native land, or in the land of their ancestors, than in the United States.

In company with an agent of this society, Stockton sailed for the west coast of Africa in command of an armed schooner called the "Alligator;" and when he arrived at his destination, he took upon himself nearly all the difficult work of selecting territory suitable for the purposes desired, of buying land from the savage natives, of making them understand the character of the settlers who were coming to Africa and of the powerful nation who intended to protect them. He made treaties of commerce and friendship with the ignorant Africans, who, until he came, scarcely knew what was meant by a treaty.

The performance of these complicated and difficult duties required a man of courage and diplomatic ability, who could take things as they came, and who was always ready to act promptly in sudden emergencies. Stockton proved himself to be that man, and he established in the native land of the negro a country to which the Africans who had once been slaves in the United States might freely go, carrying with them all that they had learned of civilization in this country, and where they might live without fear of reënslavement by the warlike tribes, whose principal business in life then was to capture their fellow-countrymen, and sell them into slavery.

This new country, which was called Liberia, was at first a colony of the United States. It grew and prospered, and in 1847 it became an independent nation, and soon after was recognized as such by Great Britain and the United States; and since then it has made treaties with most of the European countries.

Thus was established the new nation of Liberia, and it is not likely that there was a man in the United States who could have accomplished this great work better than the fighting sailor from Princeton.

After having finished the Liberian business on land, Stockton did some work at sea more in the line of a naval commander. While sailing along the coast, the "Alligator" was sighted by a Portuguese war vessel, the "Marianna Flora," who mistook her for a pirate, and determined to capture her. But when the "Marianna" got near enough, and opened fire on the supposed pirate, she found that the work she had undertaken was very different from what she had expected. To speak figuratively, the "Alligator" lashed her tail, opened her jaws, and began to fight with such fury, that in twenty minutes the "Marianna" was beaten and captured. Stockton put her under the command of one of his own officers with an American crew, and sent her away as a prize to America.

The government of Portugal, when it heard what had happened, declared, that, as their country and the United States were not at war, our Jersey sailor had no right to take one of their vessels; but, as it was asserted on the other side that one of their vessels had first tried to take his, there seemed to be a good deal of justice in what had been done. However, the matter was settled by his exoneration from all blame in the matter, and the return of the "Marianna" to Portugal.

Some time later, the "Alligator" fell in with a French slave ship and captured her; and it is stated that the legal proceedings which followed this capture established the point of international law, that war vessels of all nations have a perfect right to capture a slave ship, wherever it may be found. This was the first step in the work of breaking up the slave trade, which was then carried on by many of the civilized nations of the world.

In later cruises, Stockton sailed about in the West Indies, capturing several slavers, and also making a vigorous war on pirates and freebooters, who at that time made the vicinity of these islands very dangerous for peaceable vessels.

In 1838 our commander was made a captain. There was no war now in which he might engage, but his mind was very busily occupied in regard to the proper construction of war vessels. In 1841 the United States Navy did not possess a single steamship. They were all old-style sailing vessels. Several steamers had been planned: one had blown up, and two others were still on the stocks. But Captain Stockton did not believe that if these were finished they would be effective as vessels of war. One great reason for this was the fact that their engines were situated so near the upper deck, that a shot from an enemy might easily destroy them, and so render the vessel worthless. Another objection was that they were side-wheelers, and it would be a very easy thing for a cannon ball to knock an exposed side-wheel into a worthless condition.

Stockton's idea was to put the engines and machinery deep down in the vessel, below the water line, where it would be almost impossible to injure them, and to have the ship moved by means of a submerged screw in the stern, instead of by paddle wheels. The naval constructors and authorities opposed this new-fangled scheme; but our New Jersey sailor was an energetic man in whatever he had to do, and he fought the naval constructors as vigorously as he ever fought a pirate. Consequently he got authority from Congress to build a war ship after his own plan, and arm it with cannon, which he thought would be much better than the guns then in use in the navy.

Under Stockton's directions, there was built at Philadelphia a vessel of war, which he named the "Princeton," and which was constructed according to his plans. On her deck were two great guns of wrought iron, which were also devised by him; and each of these carried a two hundred and twenty-five pound shot,—much heavier than those then used in naval warfare.

Great public interest was excited in the "Princeton," the first steamship of our navy, and on her trial trip she was found to be an excellent seagoing vessel. She went to Washington, and there started out on an excursion, during which her great guns were to be tried. There was a very distinguished company on board,—officers of the army and navy, and several members of the Cabinet, and other guests.

It was found, however, that the ship was much superior to her great guns; for when one of them, named the "Peacemaker," was fired, it exploded, killing several people, among whom were the secretary of war, the secretary of the navy, and the father-in-law of the President; while others, including Captain Stockton, were wounded.

This terrible event shocked the whole nation; but although there were no more wrought-iron cannon made, the building of naval steamships, which began with Stockton's "Princeton," went steadily on, growing and improving, until it reached the high point shown by the swift and powerful ironclad men-of-war which now fly the stars and stripes.

In 1846 Stockton found himself on the coast of California, with the rank of commodore, and in command of a squadron. Since he had started from the United States, war had been declared with Mexico; and when he arrived, the towns of Monterey and San Francisco had been taken by Commodore Sloat, who had preceded him. A state of war exactly suited Stockton's disposition; and as there was no more immediate need of fighting on the seacoast, he organized a little army of marines and sailors from his ships, which was afterwards joined by a body of adventurers and hunters of the United States, and also by Lieutenant-Colonel Frémont, an officer of the United States Army, who had been sent into that region to explore the country, and who had already done some fighting with the little band under his command.

Los Angeles, the Mexican capital of California, was attacked and taken. Commodore Stockton now declared himself the conqueror of California, and organized a provisional government for the captured territory, appointing John C. Frémont as governor.