Eaton arrived in Boston on the 5th of May, 1803.  The same season Preble sailed into the Mediterranean, with the Constitution, “a bunch of pine boards,” as she was then called in derision, poorly fitted out, and half-manned; and with three other vessels in no better condition.  But here, at last, was a captain whom no cautious or hesitating instructions could prevent from doing the work set before him to the best of his ability.  Sword in hand, he maintained the principle of “Death before tribute,” so often and so unmeaningly toasted at home; and it was not his fault, if he did not establish it.  At all events, he restored the credit of our flag in the Mediterranean.

When the news reached home of the burning of the Philadelphia, of the attack of the fireships, and of the bombardment of Tripoli, the blood of the nation was up.  Arch-democratic scruples as to the expediency, economy, or constitutionality of public armed ships were thenceforth utterly disregarded.  Since then, it has never been a question whether the United States should have a navy or not.  To Preble fairly belongs the credit of establishing it upon a permanent footing, and of heading the roll of daring and skilful officers the memory of whose gallantry pervades the service and renders it more effective than its ships and its guns.

The Administration yielded to the popular feeling, and attempted to claim for themselves the credit of these feats of arms, which they had neither expected nor desired.  A new fleet was fitted out, comprising our whole navy except five ships.  Here again the cloven foot became visible.  Preble, who had proved himself a captain of whom any nation might be proud, was superseded by Commodore Barron, on a question of seniority etiquette, which might have been easily settled, had the Government so wished it.

Eaton had spent a year at home, urging upon the authorities, whenever the settlement of his accounts took him to Washington, more effective measures against Tripoli,—­and particularly an alliance with Hamet Caramanli, the Ex-Pacha, who had been driven from his throne by his brother Jusuf, a much more able man.  In spite of his bitter flings at their do-nothing policy, the Administration sent him out in the fleet, commissioned as General Agent for the Barbary Regencies, with the understanding that he was to join Hamet and assist him in an attack upon Derne.  His instructions were vague and verbal; he had not even a letter to our proposed ally.  Eaton was aware of his precarious position; but the hazardous adventure suited his enterprising spirit, and he determined to proceed in it.  “If successful, for the public,—­if unsuccessful, for myself,” he wrote to a friend, quoting from his classical reminiscences; “but any personal risk,” he added, with a rhetorical flourish, “is better than the humiliation of treating with a wretched pirate for the ransom of men who are the rightful heirs of freedom.”