words. This was more than young blood could stand,
and he called to the officer of the deck and asked him what that meant,
but the haughty Spaniard would give him no satisfaction.

"Very well," said Decatur. "I will call to see you in the morning. Pull
off, lads."

The next morning Decatur had himself rowed over to the xebec, and went
on board. He asked for the officer who was in charge the night before.

"He has gone ashore," was the reply.

"Well, then," said Decatur, in tones that every one on board could hear,
"tell him that Lieutenant Decatur, of the frigate _Essex_, calls him a
cowardly scoundrel, and when he meets him on shore he will cut his ears
off."

There were no more insults after that. Decatur spoke as if he meant what
he said, and the officers of the xebec did not want to lose their ears.
But the United States Minister to Spain took up the matter and did not
rest until he got a full apology for the insults to the Americans.

I have told this little story to let you see what kind of a man Stephen
Decatur was. But this was only a minor affair. He was soon to make
himself famous by one of the most brilliant deeds in the history of the
American navy.

In October, 1802, a serious disaster came to the American fleet. The
frigate _Philadelphia_ was chasing a runaway vessel into the harbor of
Tripoli, when she got in shoal water and suddenly ran fast aground on a
shelf of rock.

Here was an awkward position. Captain Bainbridge threw overboard most
of his cannon and his anchors, and everything that would lighten the
ship, even cutting down his foremasts; but all to no purpose. She still
clung fast to the rock.

Soon a flock of gunboats came down the harbor and saw the bad fix the
Americans were in. Bainbridge was quite unable to fight them, for they
could have kept out of the way of his guns and made kindling wood of his
vessel. There was nothing to do but to surrender. So he flooded the
powder magazine, threw all the small arms overboard, and knocked holes
in the bottom of the ship. Then he hauled down his flag.

The gunboats now came up like a flock of hawks, and soon the Moors were
clambering over the rails. In a minute more they were in every part of
the ship, breaking open chests and storerooms and plundering officers
and men. Two of them would hold an officer and a third rob him of his
watch and purse, his sword, and everything of value he possessed. The
plundering did not stop till the captain