“Yes, sir,” answered Morris in a low voice.
To this Morris made no answer for a moment; then he said huskily:
“He had boarded a Turkish boat yonder, and the flag had been hauled down, when, as he advanced across the deck, the Tripolitan captain drew a pistol and shot him. We carried him to our own boat. The Turk escaped, and there is his boat now within the enemy’s line.”
Decatur knew his duty to his country and to the brave men under him—whose lives and reputations depended upon his judgment and coolness—too well to spend a moment indulging his private grief.
“I can not go to him yet,” he cried in an agonized voice; “but I can punish the treachery of the wretch who shot him!”
The Tripolitan boat was now well in the line of the rest, a few hundred yards away; but the Americans, bending to their sweeps and unshipping their bowsprit, in a little while had reached the boat and had run aboard of it. They could see that it was strongly manned, and its decks were crowded with turbaned heads. Decatur had put his pistol in his pocket, and had taken a boarding pike in his hand to parry the Turkish scimitars. As the two boats neared each other, Decatur—whose heart was torn with grief for his brother, and filled with the determination to punish the enemies of his country—recognized the treacherous Tripolitan captain, a man of gigantic frame and ferocious countenance, standing near the bow. The next moment he noticed the young sailor, Reuben James, at his side, who threw with unerring skill a grappling iron aboard of the Tripolitan boat, and the Americans, dragging on the chain, drew the boat toward them. There was no need to call away the boarders. Every man that could be spared from the sweeps was up and ready to spring. Next Decatur stood Macdonough, and immediately behind him were Danny Dixon and Reuben James. Before the boats had touched, the Americans leaped over the side and found themselves on the Tripolitans’ deck, surrounded by twice their number of enemies.
Then began a hand-to-hand fight to which all that had gone before was as child’s play. The Americans, keeping together as much as possible, fought from one end of the deck to the other, while Decatur made a dash for the Turkish captain. Decatur was a tall and athletic fellow, but the Turk was a giant. As the young American captain charged with his pike, the Turk caught it and wrested it out of his hands. The Turk then standing up on tiptoe to bring the pike down with terrific force, Decatur had time to draw his sword. The blade flashed over his head for a moment, and then the heavy iron pike, descending, broke it short off at the hilt. Decatur felt the sharp point of the pike enter his breast, but tearing it out in a moment, covered with blood, he suddenly clinched with the Turk, who, although a much larger and stronger man than Decatur, was taken by surprise, and went down on the deck, locked with Decatur in a mortal embrace.