It always took a few days to bring Captain Truxtun up to date on the Philadelphia story when he returned home from his China and India voyages. This time there seemed to be so much news; so many things had happened while he was
It always took a few days to bring Captain Truxtun up to date on the Philadelphia story when he returned home from his China and India voyages. This time there seemed to be so much news; so many things had happened while he was gone. He could agree completely with the man who had recently written, "We live in a day, when one year of life is worth many in dull common times."1
To be sure, the most important event was the arrival in May, 1790, of his second son, named William, who was now almost a year old. His wife and other children — Sarah, Mary, Thomas, Elizabeth, and Evelina — were all well. He had to renew his acquaintance with Evelina, now three; he had been home only for seven months of her lifetime thus far; and unless his present plans were changed, he would be home for just another seven months before time to leave again. Sarah, twelve, was becoming quite worldly with all her learning at Mr. Brown's academy. Thomas, eight, was old enough now to be an attentive audience when his father told him about Tipoo Sahib, who was fighting against Captain Truxtun's friend Lord Cornwallis way off there in India, about all the strange animals in the zoo at Cape Town, and about the thousands of p92little boys in China who were born and reared in sampans on the Canton River.
He learned that his friend Benjamin Franklin had died at the age of eighty-four. It was already more than a year since his body had been laid to rest in the Christ Church burying ground. Although the population of Philadelphia was less than 30,000, some twenty thousand people had watched the ceremony or followed the funeral procession.
The government of the new republic had moved from New York to Philadelphia during the winter just past. George Washington was again in the city, this time as President of the United States, living in the Morris mansion on Market Street, going about the city in his elegant cream-colored carriage, drawn by two — and sometimes four — handsome Virginia bays, driven by a proud German coachman.2
The State House again was at the center of the national stage, having been given over to Congress and the Supreme Court. Across the street, on the north side of Chestnut, was the War Office, presided over by General Henry Knox, an enormous paunchy gentleman who carried a gold-headed cane, flourishing it as he talked to add emphasis to words that rolled out in a voice "deep as a thunder-growl."3 He was charged with management of the land and naval forces of the United States. His Army was small, his Navy non‑existent.
There had been talk of a naval force to be used against the Barbary pirates, in order to reduce the price of ransom for a number of American seamen who were being held in slavery at Algiers. They had already been there six years, ever since their vessels were captured by the Algerines in 1785. This Navy talk had raised a storm of opposition. One congressman wrote in his diary: "Eleven unfortunate men, now in slavery in Algiers, is the pretext for fitting out a fleet to go to war with them.... it is urged we should expend half a million dollars rather than redeem [ransom] these unhappy men."4 Secretary Knox had inquired into the cost of building a fleet, and even those who favored a Navy agreed with him that the government could not yet afford one.5 Eleven Americans remained in slavery while plans for the Navy were quietly laid aside.
Throughout the summer months, Captain Truxtun followed the p93progress of his new ship, being built in Joshua Humphreys' shipyard. Named the Delaware, she measured nearly 400 tons, was 105 feet long on deck with a beam of 29 feet, larger than the Canton by 150 tons.6 The new ship incorporated a basic improvement in steering; instead of ropes, usually used to transmit motion from wheel to rudder, she was fitted with cast iron gears. Positive action was assured; there were no ropes to fail at a crucial moment when the safety of the ship depended upon the rudder's instant response to the helmsman's will.7
In December, as usual, Captain Truxtun stood out to sea, this time bound for England, where he was to have his new ship coppered. While there, he loaded a cargo of attractive luxury goods for British gentlemen and their ladies in India; then he departed on his fourth Eastern voyage. In distant Madras, on the coast of Coromandel, he traded this cargo for one of pepper, sugar, and rich India piece goods.8 Finding that he had more than the Delaware would carry, he dispatched over a hundred tons of pepper and piece goods in a French ship, the St. Jean de Lone, sending his purser along to insure their safe arrival in Europe. He sailed his own ship to Hamburg, Germany, where he disposed of most of his cargo, and then he returned with his ship to London.9
He left the Delaware in London under the care of his associate, William Constable, who had just come from New York; and then, in the unfamiliar role of passenger, he took passage for America in another man's vessel.10 While he was yet upon the ocean, his family was saddened by the death of the second eldest girl, Mary, age twelve. Bef