ld that his brother had gallantly engaged and captured a
Tripolitan gunboat, but that, on going aboard of her after her flag
had been struck, he had been shot down by the cowardly Turk who was in
command. The murderer then rallied his men, drove the Americans away,
and carried his craft out of the battle.

Decatur's grief for the death of his brother gave way, for the time,
to his anger on account of the base treachery by which the victim met
his death. Casting prudence to the winds, he turned his boat's prow
towards the gunboat of the murderer, and, urging on his rowers, soon
laid the enemy aboard. Cutlass in hand, Decatur was first on the deck
of the enemy. Behind him followed close Lieut. Macdonough and nine
blue-jackets. Nearly forty Turks were ready to receive the boarders.
As the boarders came over the rail, they fired their pistols at the
enemy, and then sprang down, cutlass in hand. The Turks outnumbered
them five to one; but the Americans rallied in a bunch, and dealt
lusty blows right and left. At last, Decatur singled out a man whom he
felt sure was the commander, and the murderer of his brother. He was a
man of gigantic frame; his head covered with a scarlet cap, his face
half hidden by a bristly black beard. He was armed with a heavy
boarding-pike, with which he made a fierce lunge at Decatur. The
American parried the blow, and make a stroke at the pike, hoping to
cut off its point. But the force of the blow injured the Tripolitan's
weapon not a whit, while Decatur's cutlass broke short off at the
hilt. With a yell of triumph the Turk lunged again. Decatur threw up
his arm, and partially avoided the thrust; so that the pike pierced
his breast, but inflicted only a slight wound. Grappling the weapon,
Decatur tore it from the wound, wrested it from the Turk, and made a
lunge at him, which he avoided. The combatants then clinched and fell
to the deck, fiercely struggling for life and death. About them fought
their followers, who strove to aid their respective commanders.
Suddenly a Tripolitan officer, who had fought his way to a place above
the heads of the two officers, aimed a blow at the head of Decatur.
His victim was powerless to guard himself. One American sailor only
was at hand. This was Reuben James, a young man whose desperate
fighting had already cost him wounds in both arms, so that he could
not lift a hand to save his commander. But, though thus desperately
wounded, James had yet one offering to l