The First Barbary War (1801-1805), or “America’s First War on Terror,” as some refer to it, was a pivotal moment in US history. While both the Navy and Marines participated in the Quasi-War with France, it was the war with the Barbary pirates that cemented both the Marine Corps and the Navy as the proud organizations that they are today. This was the war that produced heroes such as O’Bannon, Decatur, Preble, Porter, Hull, and Somers.
To the Shores of Tripoli follows three fictional Marine privates as they participate in the watershed moments in the war. Private Seth Crocker is an uneducated, underage Marine who fights from the tops of the USS Enterprise and in battles such as the Gunboat Battle off the coast of Tripoli. Private Ichabod Cone, a veteran of the Revolution, is part of the crew of the USS Philadelphia when it is captured and spends most of the war as a slave of the pasha. Private Jacob Brissey is one of the seven Marines, under Lieutenant Presley O’Bannon, who march 600 miles across the desert against tremendous odds to attack and capture the city of Derne, where, for the first time in history, the US flag is raised over foreign soil.
This book is historical fiction, but the events it describes are historical fact. Most of the characters actually existed and fought in the war. Where possible, their actual words are reproduced here. In all other cases, dialogue and characterizations were born in the author’s imagination.
The First Barbary War is considered the birth of the US Navy. It is equally valid to say that the war created the foundation for the Marine Corps as we know it today.
This book is not a best-seller, but it is a steady seller with several thousand sales and many borrows.
“Orders, captain?” his first mate asked.
“Keep her steady. Let’s see what they want,” he replied.
John Harris, the first mate, merely shrugged. He’d spent two years impressed into the Royal Navy, and it was all the same to him.
The corvette slowly moved close. Only the helmsman, a few deck hands, and a ship’s officer, resplendent in in his company uniform, visible on deck. The officer had moved to the starboard rail and looked to hail the Betsey.
“Where are you out of?” he shouted when the two ships were about 40 yards apart.
“This is the Betsey, out of Baltimore, bound for Philadelphia,” the captain shouted back.
“If that is so, then prepare to be boarded!” the officer yelled across the water.
The captain’s heart fell as he turned to give the helmsman the order to come about in an attempt to put distance between the two ships.
The British corvette’s five starboard gunports opened, and one gun fired a shot across the Betsey’s bow before the ship could move. The Guinea Jack came down and was replaced by an ensign that the captain didn’t recognize.
The captain hesitated a moment, calculating his chances. The Betsey had no guns, but like all ships she had small arms aboard.
“Mr. Harris, get all hands on deck, then break out the muskets, but don’t fire unless I give the order,” he told his first mate.
He moved over to the rail, wondering what he could do to give his ship more time. He was about to shout out when from below the starboard rail of the corvette, at least 50 turbaned, shirtless men jumped up from where they had been hidden. All were armed with pistols and swords, and all started to shout at the top of their lungs.
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by ANDRE DIOGO WEBER 2
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Alicia Rodriguez
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