they were
driven back.

The men at the guns meanwhile poured in two more broadsides, and once
more down came the flag of Tripoli.

Captain Sterrett did not trust the traitors this time. He bade his men
keep to their guns, and ordered the Tripolitans to bring their vessel
under the quarter of the _Enterprise_. They had no sooner done so than a
throng of the Moorish pirates tried to board the schooner.

"No quarter for the treacherous dogs!" was the cry of the furious
sailors. "Pour it into them; send the thieves to the bottom!"

The _Enterprise_ now drew off to a good position and raked the foe with
repeated broadsides. The Moors were bitterly punished for their
treachery. Their deck ran red with blood; men and officers lay bleeding
in throngs; the cries of the wounded rose above the noise of the cannon.
The flag was down again, but no heed was paid to that. The infuriated
sailors were bent on sending the pirate craft to the bottom.

At length the corsair captain, an old man with a flowing white beard,
appeared at the side of his ship, sorely wounded, and, with a low bow,
cast his flag into the sea. Then Captain Sterrett, though he still felt
like sinking the corsair, ordered the firing to stop.

The prize proved to be named the _Tripoli_. What was to be done with it?
Captain Sterrett had no authority to take prizes. At length he concluded
that he would teach the Bashaw of Tripoli a lesson.

He sent Lieutenant David Porter, a daring young officer who was yet to
make his mark, on the prize, telling him to make a wreck of her.

Porter was glad to obey those orders. He made the captive Tripolitans
cut down their masts, throw all their cannon and small arms into the
sea, cut their sails to pieces, and fling all their powder overboard. He
left them only a jury-mast and a small sail.

"See here," said Porter to the Moorish captain, "we have not lost a man,
while fifty of your men are killed or wounded. You may go home now and
tell this to your Bashaw, and say to him that in the time to come the
only tribute he will get from the United States will be a tribute of
powder and balls."

Away drifted the wrecked hulk, followed by the jeers of the American
sailors, who were only sorry that the treacherous pirate had not been
scuttled and sent to the bottom of the sea.

When it reached Tripoli the Bashaw was mad with rage. Instead of the
plunder and the white slaves he had looked for, he had only a dismantled
hulk.

Th