If Jefferson had been backed by a united public, or if his actions had been suited to his words, war would have certainly broken out during his second presidential term, which lasted from 1805 to 1809.  But he was a party man, with many political opponents, and without unquestioning support from all on his own side, and he cordially hated armies, navies, and even a mercantile marine.  His idea of an American Utopia was a commonwealth with plenty of commerce, but no more shipping than could be helped: 

I trust [he said] that the good sense of our country will see that its greatest prosperity depends on a due balance between agriculture, manufactures, and commerce; and not on this protuberant navigation, which has kept us in hot water since the commencement of our government...  It is essentially necessary for us to have shipping and seamen enough to carry our surplus products to market, but beyond that I do not think we are bound to give it encouragement...  This exuberant commerce brings us into collision with other Powers in every sea.

Notwithstanding such opinions, Jefferson stood firm on the question of ‘Sailors’ Rights.’  He refused to approve a treaty that had been signed on the last day of 1806 by his four commissioners in London, chiefly because it provided no precise guarantee against impressment.  The British ministers had offered, and had sincerely meant, to respect all American rights, to issue special instructions against molesting American citizens under any circumstances, and to redress every case of wrong.  But, with a united nation behind them and an implacable enemy in front, they could not possibly give up the right to take British seamen from neutral vessels which were sailing the high seas.  The Right of Search was the acknowledged law of nations all round the world; and surrender on this point meant death to the Empire they were bound to guard.

Their ‘no surrender’ on this vital point was, of course, anathema to Jefferson.  Yet he would not go beyond verbal fulminations.  In the following year, however, he was nearly forced to draw the sword by one of those incidents that will happen during strained relations.  In June 1807 two French men-of-war were lying off Annapolis, a hundred miles up Chesapeake Bay.  Far down the bay, in Hampton Roads, the American frigate Chesapeake was fitting out for sea.  Twelve miles below her anchorage a small British squadron lay just within Cape Henry, waiting to follow the Frenchmen out beyond the three-mile limit.  As Jefferson quite justly said, this squadron was ’enjoying the hospitality of the United States.’  Presently the Chesapeake got under way; whereupon the British frigate Leopard made sail and cleared the land ahead of her.  Ten miles out the Leopard hailed her, and sent an officer aboard to show the American commodore the orders from Admiral Berkeley at Halifax.  These orders named certain British deserters as being among the Chesapeake’s crew.  The American commodore refused to allow a search; but submitted after a fight, during which he lost twenty-one men killed and wounded.  Four men were then seized.  One was hanged; another died; and the other two were subsequently returned with the apologies of the British government.