CHAPTER 14

Opening a New Front

It grates me mortally when I see a lazy Turk reclining at his ease upon an embroidered sofa, with one Christian slave to hold his pipe, another to hold his coffee, and a third to fan away the flies.

—William Eaton¹

Jefferson’s government left the decision of whether to help Hamet in the hands of their men in the Mediterranean. The chief diplomat and the commodore, Lear and Barron, would have to approve Eaton’s efforts if he was to move forward. Accordingly, on their transatlantic crossing, William Eaton had presented Commodore Samuel Barron with impassioned arguments for his scheme.

Eaton’s lawyerly arguments were strong. He maintained that only a ground campaign would force Yusuf into accepting a peace on American terms. He pointed out that the Americans most familiar with the politics of the region, Richard O’Brien and James Leander Cathcart, had endorsed the idea of restoring Hamet as bashaw. On arrival in the Mediterranean, they found that Captain Preble had, too.

Even if Barron remained vague about how it was to be done, he could hardly reject the collective advice of these experienced Barbary men. With some reluctance, he agreed to provide Eaton transport to go in search of the deposed bashaw.

But not all the American officials stationed in the Mediterranean and involved in Barbary affairs thought the mission a good one. Chief Consul Tobias Lear, the region’s most important representative of the Department of State, complained that Hamet lacked the force or influence needed to make him helpful to the Americans. But it is difficult to know whether Lear’s objections were based more on his doubts about Hamet’s strength or on fears that the plan would diminish his own power. During Commodore Preble’s time, Lear’s role in America’s foreign relations had been minor. Preble thought military strength, not negotiations, were the means to peace, relegating Lear’s work to the background. With the arrival of Barron, especially now that the commodore had suddenly been confined to his cabin, sick with liver disease, Lear saw the door might be open for him to wield more influence. Eaton’s plan, also based on military strength instead of negotiations, might close that door again.

Despite Colonel Lear’s doubts, Eaton’s plan received approval. He was authorized to find Hamet, negotiate with him, and raise an Arab army to help restore the rightful bashaw to power. These orders in hand, in November 1804, Eaton sailed for Egypt aboard the USS Argus. Built to hold 142 men, the snug ship easily took aboard Eaton’s tiny army, which, at that moment, consisted solely of Eaton, 2 U.S. Navy midshipmen, and 8 U.S. Marines.

If Eaton’s band fell far short of the army he hoped to build, he still maintained high hopes—and one reason was the presence of the Marines and their leader, Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon. Eaton needed such men, skilled fighters on land and sea.

Lithe and lean with red hair, O’Bannon was popular as a lively violin player who could dance as well as he could fiddle a tune. He was also a born fighter. A young man from the heart of Virginia’s Piedmont region, he was eager to defend American interests in an exotic climate. The Marines’ reputation for toughness and tenacity, along with the promise of adventure coupled with patriotic duty, had attracted the naturally spirited young man, and he had enthusiastically embraced Eaton’s plan.

Eaton’s ten men amounted to a small start, of course, but these committed young fighters, Eaton believed, would soon be supplemented by Hamet’s larger army in Egypt. Hamet’s loyal followers could also be reinforced by hiring mercenaries and, thanks to his years in North Africa, Eaton understood the value of local soldiers, men acclimated to the unique demands of desert living. He also felt confident that disaffected Tripolitans would flock to Hamet’s side once he marched back into his country. A fine team was in the making.

Before Eaton and his Marines could help Hamet, though, they had to find him—and in 1804 no one seemed to know where Sidi Hamet Qaramanli was hiding. When the rumor had circulated, in July 1803, that Bashaw Yusuf had dispatched assassins to kill him in the eastern Tripolitan city of Derne, Hamet had run for his life, fleeing to Egypt. Reports indicated that the thin, soft-spoken former bashaw remained there. But where, exactly? Forced to be on the move out of fear of his brother’s agents, he seemed to have disappeared into the sands of the Sahara.

Eaton’s first port of call in November 1804 was the ancient city of Alexandria, Egypt. On arrival, the Americans found a country divided. Albanian Turks held power on behalf of the Ottoman Empire, but their rule extended only to Cairo. Farther upriver were the rebellious Mamelukes, heirs to an Egyptian dynasty that dated to medieval times. Meanwhile both French and British colonial forces had, in recent years, been stationed in the country. As if the competing political interests were not enough, Egypt was in the midst of a famine, a result of a scant harvest. “Egypt has no master,” Eaton noted a few days into his visit. “Pale Wretchedness and dumb melancholy stalk here!”²

Eaton recognized that he needed Egyptian help if he was to find Hamet. Accordingly, he befriended the natives and, over candies and coffee, he learned that the man he sought was upriver. However, Eaton’s blood ran cold on being told that Hamet had joined forces with the Mamelukes, the sworn enemies of the Ottoman Empire and, more immediately, the powers that controlled the mouth of the river. Supposing he found Hamet, how was Eaton to extract him and his supporters, as they would have to travel through Ottoman territory? That would require a miraculous act of diplomacy, but even so, the intrepid William Eaton, having persuaded a president, a government, and the U.S. Navy to support his scheme, gamely headed up the Nile to Cairo. There he would next make his case to the viceroy of Egypt.

Eaton’s expedition sailed south, the waters of the Nile guiding them farther into Egypt. Evidence of political instability was everywhere. One village had been raided by a roving band of deserters from the Turkish army just days before who had destroyed anything valuable or growing. At one town, the Americans were mistaken for British soldiers, and the locals “flocked around with demonstrations of joy,” offering to help any army that would protect them from the marauding forces.³

Letters from the British consul gained Eaton an audience with the Egyptian viceroy in Cairo. Because it was Ramadan, the holy month of fasting when no refreshments could be served during the day, Viceroy Ahmed Khorshid invited Eaton to call upon him at nine o’clock in the evening. Eaton was conducted from the British consulate to the viceroy’s citadel in a torch-lit procession, escorted by servants and dignitaries and six lavishly decorated Arabian horses. He looked upon the spectators lining the streets of the mile-and-a-half route, an enormous crowd “curious to see the men who had come from the new world.”⁴ His welcome was worthy of a great visitor.

The viceroy himself seemed most interested to learn about the United States, and asked Eaton many question about America, the “situation and extent of our territory; date of our independence; nations with whom we were at peace or war; productions and commerce of the country? &c &c.” The two men sat in a large hall, Eaton reported, which “surpassed in magnificence everything I have ever seen of its kind.” Seated side by side, they shared an embroidered purple couch with damask cushions and sat drinking coffee, smoking pipes, and eating sherbet.

Then the viceroy dismissed everyone from his presence except Eaton and an interpreter. The pleasantries ended as the ruler observed, “[Y]our visit to this country at so critical a moment must have something more for its object than mere gratification of curiosity.”

Eaton went straight to the heart of the matter. Replying in French, which the Turkish interpreter understood better than English, Eaton described “our intercourse and relation with Tripoli.” He explained that the current bashaw of Tripoli had declared the war, which the Americans wanted to end. Although often criticized for being blunt, Eaton demonstrated great subtlety in winning the viceroy over to his plan. He flattered the Egyptian, contrasting his magnanimity with the tyranny of the Barbary princes.

He argued that Islam and Christianity had many commonalities, hinting that the Egyptian could ally with him as a matter of faith. “I touched upon the affinity of principle between the Islam and Americans religion. Both taught the existence and supremacy of one God . . . both enjoyed the universal exercise of humanity, and both forbade unnecessary bloodshed.”

The viceroy had to agree: indeed, these were maxims of his faith.

Eaton pressed on.

He told the viceroy that he was seeking Hamet: “I declared that we sought in his province a legitimate sovereign of Tripoli: who had been treacherously driven from his government and country; in whose good faith we could place reliance, and whom we intended to restore to his throne.” And he explained that America had no interest in occupying Tripoli: “we do not unsheathe the sword for conquest nor for spoil, but to vindicate our rights.” The United States sought only to defend its own citizens and interests from unwarranted attack.

The viceroy recognized the American as a worthy brother and, “by an inclination of his head, [the viceroy] signified assent and promised to send couriers in search of Hamet Bashaw.”

Eaton’s persuasive words had won him an ally in the search for Hamet. Now, however, he must wait for the man to be found.

• • •

The viceroy was true to his word, and he dispatched messengers upriver to find Hamet. Eaton, too, sent a mercenary to discover the whereabouts of the missing man. Several nervous weeks passed before the messengers located the former bashaw, but they delivered Eaton’s message to him on January 3. Five days later, Eaton received Hamet’s eager reply.

The former bashaw was ready for the expedition, confident “that God will aid us in establishing peace and tranquility.”⁵ On February 5, 1805, Eaton and Hamet, who had met years earlier in Tunis, were reunited outside Cairo.

On first sight, Hamet struck no one as a powerful prince. His cheeks were pockmarked, his chin and lips obscured by a long beard. On meeting him, one American captain had pronounced Hamet a “mild, amiable man [who] would be perfectly friendly and Peaceable toward us.”⁶ Though a sympathetic figure, he possessed no great personal magnetism, and no one described him as a warrior. When his brother had taken the throne in 1795, Hamet had seemed incapable of fighting back, and almost a decade later he still lived in exile, separated from his wife and four children, who remained under house arrest in Tripoli.

If Hamet was indecisive and uninspiring, Eaton also recognized him as someone he could mold, someone he could persuade. But before they could embark on the great mission Eaton envisioned, one more delicate negotiation needed to be completed.

Taking it upon himself to represent the United States of America, Eaton negotiated with the former bashaw concerning their respective promises. Hamet needed to be sure the Americans would support him. Eaton needed assurances that Hamet would treat Americans well once he was in power. Their conversations yielded a formal agreement.

The treaty opened with one line—“GOD IS INFINITE”—followed by an oath of friendship between the government of the United States and the one to be reestablished by Hamet. Per the contract, the United States would provide the force, funds, and supplies to restore the throne to Hamet. In return, the once and future bashaw would ask no ransom for the release of the men of the Philadelphia. Hamet also promised to deliver Yusuf and Admiral Murat Rais to the Americans. Signed by Eaton and Hamet, the document was witnessed by Presley O’Bannon and the British consul.

With the treaty in place, the plan that William Eaton had been shaping for more than three years was about to unfold. America, pounding Tripoli from the sea, would soon be continuing the attack on land. Together, Eaton and Hamet would raise a mercenary army that would join the Marines for a historic land march across more than five hundred miles of rocky desert to Derne, Tripoli’s second-largest city. Once Derne had fallen, they would march west to Benghazi. They would capture that city, and then U.S. warships would carry them the last four hundred miles to take Tripoli. It was a bold plan—but despite the doubts of Lear and others, Eaton felt confident that it could work.