“To most modern readers, and even many of his contemporaries, Somers’ day of duels was a waste of courage. He himself may have even agreed with the sentiment.”
By William J. Prom
Richard Somers and Stephen Decatur were childhood friends. They grew up together in Philadelphia at the end of the Revolutionary War and were two of the first to receive midshipmen warrants in the U.S. Navy in 1798. That same year they sailed together under Captain John Barry on the frigate United States to the West Indies to protect American commerce from French privateers during the Quasi-War with France.
Somers and Decatur earned their lieutenants commissions in May 1799 after an uneventful first cruise. With a promotion date one day earlier, Somers was the senior of the two. The distinction meant little to their friendship. Barry’ was a capable schoolmaster for his lieutenants, many of whom went on to their own commands. As the senior lieutenants left, Somers and Decatur moved up, and a new batch of midshipmen arrived to replace them
These new junior officers did not yet know of Somers and Decatur’s long friendship. Somers came from wealth. He could afford, and enjoyed, fashionable things. Decatur, by no means poor, found no such pleasure in luxury. It was a constant source of jest between the two. One evening when the officers invited the midshipmen to dine with them in the wardroom, Decatur and Somers joked about the other’s attire. At one point, Decatur called Somers a “fool,” and Somers laughed it off.
The young midshipmen, however, found no humour in the exchange. To them, Somers failed to confront a junior lieutenant who insulted him. Two days later, when Somers invited the young men to share his wine, all declined. They questioned his honour explaining that his inaction offended the entire naval service. It was the first Somers heard of his apparent cowardice. Decatur was equally surprised when Somers described the situation to him.
Decatur tried to explain to the midshipmen the absence of insult in his words, but the juniors were unmoved. They considered Somers a black mark on the ship and did not wish his dishonour to stain their character. Their lack of faith in Somers threatened to jeopardize the frigate’s chain of command. Somers believed he had to restore himself in their eyes for the sake of the ship.[1]
Despite the popular belief, duels were largely uncommon in the U.S. military at this time. When they did occur, however, it was usually among lower ranking officers. With less time in service and few opportunities for advancement, the newly commissioned felt they had more to prove.[2] Somers had no taste for duels. Once, as Decatur’s second, he tried (unsuccessfully) to end a dispute diplomatically. Now Decatur tried to dissuade Somers—equally unsuccessfully. Determined, Somers issued his challenge not to his friend, but to the entire midshipmen mess. With Decatur as his second, Somers would duel the six midshipmen individually on a single day.
On the designated day, Somers stood, pistol in hand, ten paces from his first challenger. Both men fired. Somers missed (whether intentionally or not remains unknown) but the midshipman shot him in the right arm. Once bandaged by the physician, Somers faced his next opponent. Again, Somers missed but took a hit—this time in the thigh. As the physician bandaged Somers again, Decatur offered to take his place, but Somers refused. Weak from the blood loss, Somers stumbled several times trying to take his place for the next challenger. Even when he could no longer stand, Somers rejected Decatur’s pleas to replace him. He could barely sit up to face the third midshipman; his arm was too weak to raise the pistol. Somers eventually consented to let Decatur prop him up and hold up his right elbow to steady his arm. He wounded his third opponent (perhaps with Decatur’s help) and finally took a miss for himself. With three more challengers to go he still refused to relinquish the field.
When the midshipmen grasped Somers’ determination, they finally relented and admitted to the lieutenant’s superior courage and honour. The junior officers carried their wounded shipmate back to the United States and nursed him back to health.[3]
To most modern readers, and even many of his contemporaries, Somers’ day of duels was a waste of courage. He himself may have even agreed with the sentiment. The lieutenant committed to the challenge not to prove his manhood, but out of a sense of duty to restore good order and discipline to his ship. If his subordinates questioned his leadership, it threatened to undermine the United States’ chain of command. He won them over through tenacity (and bullet holes).
Somers exhibited this determination the rest of his short naval career. He spent most of the First Barbary War (1801-1805) in the Mediterranean. In the first gunboat attack in Tripoli Harbour, Somers led his vessel in a sustained fight against five enemy craft supported by shore batteries. His final act of determination was while in command of the ketch Intrepid.
On Sept. 4, 1804, Somers converted the captured Tripolitan vessel into a fire ship—a vessel set ablaze and then sailed unmanned into the midst of enemy fleet. To maximize the damage, Somers loaded the Intrepid with 15 tons of gunpowder and 150 shells hoping that when the payload exploded it would destroy part of Tripoli’s harbour defences. With a volunteer crew, Somers cruised into Tripoli in the dark of night disguised as a local merchant ship. They were to light the fuses and escape in rowboats, but something went wrong. Instead, the black powder ignited prematurely killing Somers and his crew.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: William J. Prom writes about early American naval history. A graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, he served in Afghanistan with the U.S. Marine Corps.
[1] Charles W. Goldsborough, The United States Naval Chronical (Washington, D.C.: Printed by James Wilson, 1824), 237-237; Chipp Reid, Intrepid Sailors: The Legacy of Preble’s Boys and the Tripoli Campaign (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 2012), 44-45
[2] Christopher McKee, A Gentlemanly and Honorable Profession: The Creation of the U.S. Naval Officer cOrps, 1794-1815 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press), 403-406.
[3] Goldsborough, The United States Naval Chronical, 237-237; Reid, Intrepid Sailors, 44-45; Charles Oscar Paullin, “Dueling in the Old Navy,” Proceedings, vol. 35, no. 4 (December 1909) https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1909/december/dueling-old-navy.
