"Never mind, boys," he said, "the fewer the number, the greater the glory. Keep your heads level; obey orders every time; and do your duty."
About sunset, the ketch with her alert crew came in sight of the white-walled city. They could see the chain of forts and the frowning castle. The tall black hull and the shining masts of the Philadelphia stood out boldly against the bright blue African sky. Two huge men-of-war and a score of gunboats were moored near her. { 164} The harbor was like a giant cavern, at the back of which lay the Philadelphia, manned by pirates armed to the teeth, who were waiting for an attack from the dreaded Americans.
Into these jaws of death, Decatur boldly steered his little craft. The breeze was still fresh. It would never do to take in sail, for the ever-watchful pirates would think it strange. So spare sails and buckets were towed astern to act as a drag, for fear they should reach their goal too early.
The men now hid themselves by lying flat upon the deck, behind the bulwarks, the rails, and the masts. Only a few persons, dressed like Maltese sailors, could be seen. Decatur stood calmly at the wheel by the side of Catalano, the pilot.
"We lay packed closer than sardines in a box, and were still as so many dead men," said one of the men long afterwards to his grandchildren.
About nine o'clock the moon rose, and by its clear light the ketch was steered straight across the blue waters for the bows of the Philadelphia.
"Vessel ahoy! What vessel is that?" shouted an officer of the frigate, as the Intrepid boldly came nearer.
"This is the ketch Stella, from Malta," shouted Catalano, in Italian. "We have lost our anchors, and were nearly wrecked in the gale; we want to ride near you during the night."
{ 165} "All right! but only until daylight," replied the officer, and ordered a line to be lowered.
Without a moment's delay, a boat under the command of young Lawrence put off from the Intrepid. On meeting the pirate boat, he took the line and rowed back to the ketch.
The Americans, in their red jackets and fezzes, hauled away with a right good will, and brought their little craft steadily in toward the huge black hull of the frigate, where they were soon being made fast under her port side.