therefore, that they should flood the magazine, scuttle the ship,
and surrender to the Tripolitan small craft which hovered around
the doomed frigate like so many vultures.

For the second time off this accursed coast Bainbridge hauled
down his colors. The crews of the Tripolitan gunboats swarmed
aboard and set about plundering right and left. Swords, epaulets,
watches, money, and clothing were stripped from the officers; and
if the crew in the forecastle suffered less it was because they
had less to lose. Officers and men were then tumbled into boats
and taken ashore, half-naked and humiliated beyond words.
Escorted by the exultant rabble, these three hundred luckless
Americans were marched to the castle, where the Pasha sat in
state. His Highness was in excellent humor. Three hundred
Americans! He counted them, each worth hundreds of dollars. Allah
was good!

A long, weary bondage awaited the captives. The common seamen
were treated like galley slaves, but the officers were given some
consideration through the intercession of the Danish consul.
Bainbridge was even allowed to correspond with Commodore Preble,
and by means of invisible ink he transmitted many important
messages which escaped the watchful eyes of his captors.
Depressed by his misfortune--for no one then or afterwards held
him responsible for the disaster--Bainbridge had only one
thought, and that was revenge. Day and night he brooded over
plans of escape and retribution.

As though to make the captive Americans drink the dregs of
humiliation, the Philadelphia was floated off the reef in a heavy