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Title: Captain John Crane, 1800-1815
Author: Knox, Thomas Wallace
Language: English
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[Illustration: MY MOTHER BROKE DOWN AND CRIED. Page 19.]
CAPTAIN JOHN CRANE
1800-1815
BY
THOMAS W. KNOX
AUTHOR OF "A CLOSE SHAVE," "THE TALKING HANDKERCHIEF," "THE LOST
ARMY," "DECISIVE BATTLES SINCE WATERLOO," "THE BOY TRAVELLERS"
(15 VOLUMES), "THE YOUNG NIMRODS" (3 VOLUMES), ETC., ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
THE MERRIAM COMPANY
67 FIFTH AVENUE
COPYRIGHT, 1895,
BY THE MERRIAM COMPANY.
TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON,
BOSTON, U.S.A.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I. Who and What I am.--My Early Life.--Leaving Home,
and Why I left It. 7
CHAPTER II. Walking to Boston.--Suspected to be
Runaways.--Find a Ship and Sign Articles. 21
CHAPTER III. Departure from Boston.--Out at Sea.--What
happened to Me.--Meeting a Stranger. 35
CHAPTER IV. Overhauled by a British War-Ship.--Search for
Deserters.--The Captain plays a Yankee Trick. 48
CHAPTER V. The Flying Dutchman and His History.--Meeting a
Ship with a Starving Crew.--Relief and Sailing in Company. 64
CHAPTER VI. In Danger from a Waterspout.--Caught in a
Gale.--Separated from Our Consort.--A Ghost on the Washington. 78
CHAPTER VII. The Ghosts and How They were laid.--Admiral
Hosier's Ghost.--The Warwick Again.--Encountering an Algerian
Pirate. 92
CHAPTER VIII. A Congreve Rocket among Algerine
Pirates.--Arrival at Gibraltar.--Arrested and in Prison. 105
CHAPTER IX. Trouble between the United States and
Algiers.--The War with France.--What our Navy did.--From
Gibraltar to Marseilles. 120
CHAPTER X. Escorted beyond Danger.--Daily Work on
Shipboard.--We save a Boatful of Castaways.--How We found
Them. 135
CHAPTER XI. How the Evelyn was lost.--I am transferred from
Forecastle to Cabin.--Our Passengers.--Arrival at Boston. 150
CHAPTER XII. A Voyage to China.--Crossing the Line.--Malay
Pirates.--Whampoa Anchorage.--More Troubles with Great
Britain. 165
CHAPTER XIII. David and I visit Our Old Home.--Return to
Boston, and Meet Bill and Joe.--Bill's Adventure on the
Chesapeake.--An "Unlucky" Ship. 181
CHAPTER XIV. The Chesapeake and the Shannon.--Another Voyage
to China.--More about Impressment.--I become a Captain and
receive Orders. 195
CHAPTER XV. Fitting for Sea.--War Declared.--Out on a
Cruise.--My First Prize.--Old Friends. 209
CHAPTER XVI. A Conspiracy, and How It was defeated.--Another
Prize.--Views of Privateering.--A Cartel.--In the Jaws of a
British Man-of-War. 224
CHAPTER XVII. Safe Return to New York.--Offer of a New
Ship.--My Friends the Grahams.--Off Again.--The Constitution's
Escape and Mine. 238
CHAPTER XVIII. Destruction of the Guerrière by the
Constitution.--Captain Hull's Wager.--How I tricked a British
Captain.--David's Ruse.--Fortune Frowns. 252
CHAPTER XIX. Escaping from a British Fleet.--Destruction of
the Marguerite.--Captured by an Old Acquaintance.--Prisoner at
Plymouth and Dartmoor. 266
CHAPTER XX. Prison Life at Dartmoor.--Reminiscences of
Privateering.--Achievements of the Rossie, Highflier, Governor
Tompkins, and Others.--I am summoned to the Captain's Office. 280
CHAPTER XXI. Released on Parole.--Go to Portsmouth.--Old
Friends.--Declaration of Peace.--Return to America.--Wedding
Bells.--The End. 294
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
My Mother broke down and cried. _Frontispiece._
The Officer walked slowly Along in Front of
Them. _Facing Page_ 49
The Sight That met His Eyes was a Terrible One. " " 65
He brought His Glass to bear Upon the Object. " " 113
"This is Jack Crane," said Captain Dawson. " " 145
He was just fairly stowed away When Haines came. " " 193
The Crew hauled away on the Rope. " " 241
"Are You John Crane, Captain of the Late
Privateer Marguerite?" " " 289
CAPTAIN JOHN CRANE.
CHAPTER I.
WHO AND WHAT I AM.--MY EARLY LIFE.--LEAVING HOME, AND WHY I LEFT IT.
I am a modest, bashful sort of man, though I say it myself, and have
been a sailor for a goodly number of years. Perhaps on board a ship
I am not so bashful, and especially when in command of her. I don't
feel altogether at home on shore, although I've given up the sea, and
propose to spend the rest of my life on land. I was born on the 25th of
November, 1783, the day of the evacuation of the city of New York by
the British, at the end of the Revolutionary War.
It is proper to say that my arrival into the United States (and the
world) on that day attracted much less attention throughout the country
than did the departure of our enemies, but there's nothing surprising
in that. I suppose you might have found, a few years ago, a good many
people throughout these United States who were born on the same day as
George Washington; but they haven't attracted any attention, while he
has filled the eyes of the world. At any rate, he filled the stomachs
of the British with all the fighting they wanted when they came here to
subjugate the colonies.
My name is John Crane, or, rather, Captain Crane, at your service.
I am, or rather was, a sea-captain, and for a pretty fair time too.
People keep on calling me "Captain," although I've given up sea life
and settled down on shore. But that's the way of things generally;
which, after all, isn't so bad. If a man has done something and won a
handle to his name, I think it is fair to let him keep it, and so I
never correct folks when they call me Captain Crane. But when I sign
a paper of any sort, no matter whether it's a letter to anybody or a
legal document, I always write "John Crane," and nothing more. I never
stick Captain on in front of it, as some do that I know.
Since I settled down on land I've told a good many of my experiences
to neighbors and friends, and they've urged me to write a book. I've
hesitated a good while about it,--there's where my bashfulness comes
in,--but, after all, I don't see why I shouldn't do as others have
done. There's many a book on sea life by men who have never been on
blue water a tenth part as much as I've been there.
I can't spell very well, that was always a weak point with me; but I'll
leave it to the printer to correct my spelling, and also my grammar,
if I slip up in it. I never had a chance for much schooling; I had a
little of the three R's, Reading, 'Riting, and 'Rithmetic, but precious
little it was.
I was born among the hills of New Hampshire, in the township of
Pembroke, about fifty miles from Portsmouth, a seaport of that State,
and sixty or seventy miles from Boston.
As my birth occurred on what we may consider the last day of the War
for Independence, I can't be supposed to remember anything about it of
my own knowledge, but my earliest recollections are very much concerned
with it. It was the great topic of conversation among the people in
the region where I lived. My father, and nearly every other man in
the neighborhood, had fought in the Continental Army, and they were
very fond of "fighting their battles o'er again" in front of their
firesides. My father was a soldier from the beginning of the war until
1777, when he was badly wounded and came home. It was late in 1778 when
he recovered, but he wasn't able to go back to the army again. So he
married, and you'll know about his family farther on.
My early life was one of hardship. My parents had a small farm which
we cultivated,--father and mother, and three brothers of us,--with our
own hands. In fact, we could not well do otherwise, as we were too poor
to hire any help. When he was twenty-one years old, James, my eldest
brother, left home, went to a neighboring town, where he hired out with
a farmer, and in less than a year was married to the farmer's daughter.
Luckily for him, his wife's father had a good-sized farm, and she was
an only child. So it happened that the newly married pair settled down
on the farm to take care of the old folks; and in due time, when they
were gathered to their fathers, my brother and his wife fell into
possession of the farm and the property connected with it.
My second brother followed the example of the first, except that he
did not marry a farm along with his girl. I was seventeen years old at
the time he became engaged. Months, yes, I may say years, before this
event, I had thought and dreamed about going to sea. Neither of my
brothers cared for it, but I believe I was a born sailor if there ever
was one. I longed to look upon the ocean and sail upon it, and felt
that I would gladly pass the whole of my life on the waters. I read all
that I could find about it; but I'm sorry to say that books were scarce
in our neighborhood, and opportunities for reading were very small. I
was greatly impressed by various passages in the Bible referring to
the sea, especially the one in the Psalms which reads,--
"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters; these see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the
deep."
So, when the family was talking about my second brother's future
prospects, I suggested that it was time for me to be doing something,
and if father and mother consented, I would go to sea. There was some
objection at first; but finally it was agreed and settled upon that my
second brother should bring his bride to the house, and the twain would
live there and care for the old folks, just as my elder brother and his
wife were caring for her parents, while I would go to sea.
Then the question arose, "Should I go from Portsmouth or from Boston?"
It was finally decided that as Boston was the larger place, and had a
greater amount of shipping than Portsmouth, I had better go to Boston,
and sail from there.
It was along in winter when this decision was reached. My departure
was deferred until spring, not that there was very much for me to do
at home in that season of the year, but because the traveling would be
very bad when the roads were covered with snow and the weather cold.
As the time approached for me to leave home I began to feel reluctant
at going away. One day I was talking with David Taylor, one of my
friends and schoolmates, at least he was my schoolmate for eight or ten
weeks every year, and about my own age.
When I told him I was going to sea he jumped at the idea, and said he
would like to go too; like myself, he had thought and dreamed about
the ocean, and nothing would suit him better than sailing over it.
He said he would speak to his father that very evening, and try and
get his consent. The Taylor family was situated very much like mine,
and I thought it quite likely that David would have no difficulty in
obtaining the paternal permission.
The next morning, when we met at school, David shook his head, and
said,--
"I'm afraid I can't go with you, John. I spoke to father last night,
and what do you think he said?"
"From the way you talk, David," said I, "I suppose he wouldn't listen
to your going to sea."
"Yes, that's it exactly. He said I had better stay at home, and if
there wasn't room for me on the farm I could hire out among the
neighbors. 'There's Major M'Clary,' said he, 'who has a big farm, and
hires half a dozen hands most of the time, and a dozen of them in
haying-time. You can hire out with him, I know. I fought under him at
Bunker Hill, and I know he'd be willing to help along a son of mine.'"
"Well," I answered, "what did you say to that?"
"I told him I didn't want to hire out as a farm hand, and possibly be
a hired man all my life. I'd rather go away and try to do something in
the world, and I believed there was a chance for me if I'd only try it."
"We didn't have a very long talk about it," continued David; "but at
the end of what we had to say father remarked that he would think it
over, and perhaps would see Mr. Crane and talk with him about it."
"That's all right, David," I said, "that's all right. If Mr. Taylor
has consented to think it over and talk with my father, I'm pretty
sure that you'll go with me in the spring. I haven't seen much of the
world, and don't know many folks in it; but when a man is willing to
consider a thing, and talk about it with somebody else who has already
considered it, it shows that he's a reasonable being, and I feel sure
my father will make Mr. Taylor understand that it will be better for
you to go out into the world than stay here at home. There are already
too many mouths to feed in your family, and you'll have to go away from
home very soon, anyway."
Then I told David some of the things I had read about the sea and a
sailor's life. I told him particularly of the prize money that was
obtained whenever a ship-of-war captured an enemy's vessel. Then I
spoke of the wages that sailors obtained, especially after they got
to be mates and captains; in fact, I dwelt a good deal more on the
captain's wages than I did on those of the mariner before the mast. I
had already said the same things to my father and mother, and that was
one of the reasons why they consented to my going to sea. My mother,
bless her loving heart! believed that her son would come home a captain
before the end of the year.
Ambitious as I was, I could not take her rosy view of the case, but I
did not undeceive her. My father was less sanguine; but of course he
was proud of his son, and believed I would succeed. A mother's love
and hopes are always far greater than a father's, but in saying this
I do not mean to cast any aspersion upon the head of our family. He
was affectionate to us all; and though he was severe at times, he was
always kind and just.
Well, it was not long before Mr. Taylor and his wife came to our house
and spent an evening. I was sent on a visit at Mr. Taylor's in order to
have me out of the way during the conference, and my brother Charles
went to call on the girl to whom he was engaged.
The evening was an anxious one for both David and myself, and the time
passed slowly. We tried to lay plans and talk of our future, but it
was very difficult to do this when we did not know whether David would
be permitted to accompany me or not. I went home at half-past eight
o'clock, the time agreed upon, and met David's father and mother about
half-way between our two houses.
I stopped and talked with them a moment, said that I had had a
pleasant visit at their house, and they in return said they had passed
an agreeable evening at my home. I hoped they would tell me what
decision had been reached, but they said not a word on the subject
that was uppermost in my heart. I had half a mind to ask them, but
concluded that it would be impertinent for me to do so. So I bade them
good-night, and proceeded on my way.
When I reached home my mother had gone to bed, and my father was just
going. With some hesitation I asked if it had been determined whether
David would go to sea or not.
"No," was the reply, "it hasn't yet been decided positively, as Mr.
Taylor said he must sleep on it. He would never decide anything of such
importance without sleeping on it at least one night."
"Do you think he will consent?" I asked.
"I hardly know what to say on that point," replied my father; "but
I think he will say yes when the time comes to decide. He is just as
sorry to have David go away from home as we are to have you go; but he
realizes that his farm is small, like ours, there are several mouths to
feed, and times are very hard. I think you may take it for granted that
David will go to sea with you, but don't be too certain about it."
With that my father bade me good-night, and I went away to my bed in
the garret. We boys slept up under the roof, for the reason that there
was no other convenient place for us to sleep in. The roof was so low
that we had to stoop, except directly under the ridge-pole, in order to
avoid hitting our heads. The place was hot in summer, but cool enough
in winter, as there were plenty of cracks to let in the air and cold.
In the place where I lay the roof was not more than two feet above me;
and many a night, when rain was falling, I have been lulled to sleep by
the pattering of the drops on the roof.
I did not see David the next day, as for some reason or other he did
not come to school. The second morning afterwards he was there bright
and early; and before he spoke I could see by the luster of his eye,
and the pleased expression on his face, that the decision had been
reached, and was in favor of what he wanted to do. As he rushed toward
me he said,--
"What do you suppose father told me this morning?"
"I don't suppose anything about it," said I; "I know that he gave his
permission for you to go to sea with me."
"Yes, that's it exactly," he replied; "but how did you find it out?"
"A little bird from the sky told me," I answered evasively; "never mind
how I found it out; I'll tell you sometime."
In the five or ten minutes that passed before the teacher arrived and
school was called to order, we talked as rapidly as our tongues would
permit. We had a great deal to say, and we said it quickly. It was the
same at the noon recess, when we strolled off together and indulged in
that boyish occupation of building castles in the air. In imagination
we went to sea together, as boys do in the story books; we did our duty
faithfully and zealously, and were rewarded by rapid promotion. In less
than three years we were both captains of ships, and regretted that
the United States did not possess a powerful navy, so that we might
both reach the grade of commodore or admiral before we had attained
the age of twenty-five. At least, that was David's view of the matter;
but I suggested to him that I never read of an admiral under fifty or
sixty years at least. This cooled his ardor somewhat, but by no means
discouraged him.
The winter wore on, and spring arrived in due time. Meanwhile, the
traveling outfits for David and myself were prepared. In our township
there were two or three women whose husbands were killed during the
Revolution, and who supported themselves by making clothing for men
and boys in cases where the garments could not be made by their wives
or mothers. Usually my mother made the clothing for my father and the
boys, and an economical method was pursued, a suit of clothes doing
duty through the whole masculine part of the family.
Father would have a new suit of homespun, and when it became a little
shabby it was made over for my brother James. After him it was made
over for my second brother Charles, and after Charles for myself.
Being the youngest, I was permitted to wear the suit out, and it was a
pretty bad looking lot of garments by the time I was through with it.
Sometimes I had a suit that had been made for Charles, but never do I
remember having a brand new one.
As I was going away from home it was deemed important that I should
have a specially good suit. Consequently, Mrs. Green was called in
to construct it, and I was very proud of the garments when they were
finished. It was the best suit of clothes I had ever possessed, and
I wore them to church every Sunday after their completion until my
departure. Extra stockings and an extra shirt completed my wardrobe;
and these, with the new suit of clothes, made a fairly good bundle,
which I was to carry on my shoulder. The last suit which brother
Charles had discarded was made over for me to wear on my journey, so
that when I was ready to leave home I presented quite a respectable
appearance.
When the time came for us to start it was a great pain for me to say
good-by to parents and brothers. I was anxious enough to go, and my
young head and heart were full of ambition and of high hopes for the
future. But at the same time I realized that I might be going away
never to return; and, though none of us said so, I'm sure that the same
thought was in every mind.
My mother broke down and cried when I kissed her farewell; my father
made a great effort to preserve his composure, but I could see the
tears standing in his eyes as he shook my hand and gave me his blessing
with a choked voice. I learned afterward that when I stepped out of
the door he yielded to his sorrow, as my mother had already done, and
sank speechless and almost fainting into a chair. It was practically
the same at David's house; yes, there was more grief there than at my
own home, as David had two sisters, while I had none. The girls were
very fond of their brother, and when the time came for him to bid them
good-by they were so heart-broken that they were unable to speak.
I am not ashamed to say that I cried, and bitterly too, when I left
my father's house. I said so to David before the day was out, and he
frankly acknowledged that he had cried too when he left home.
Mr. Taylor's house was nearer to Boston than was my father's; and so it
was agreed that David would watch for me on the morning when we were
to start, and come out and join me as I passed. You may wonder why I
did not go into the house to say good-by to the Taylor family. The fact
is, I foresaw that I might not be wanted there at that moment, and so
I called at David's house the evening before, partly to arrange our
plans, but more especially to say good-by to the Taylors. You already
understand that I was much attached to David, and I will add that I
was especially fond of his eldest sister, who was a year younger than
himself. To say good-by to her was no small effort for me, and I felt
that it would be better for us to make our adieus in the evening,
rather than in the morning, when the whole household would be plunged
in grief at David's departure.
CHAPTER II.
WALKING TO BOSTON.--SUSPECTED TO BE RUNAWAYS.--FIND A SHIP AND SIGN
ARTICLES.
We had a good sixty miles to walk, yes, sixty-five of them, from our
homes to Boston. There was a stage coach which ran daily each way, but
it was five miles from our house to the nearest point of the turnpike
road, on which the stage traveled. We were too poor to afford such a
magnificent conveyance, and therefore had arranged to walk the entire
distance. In addition to our bundles or packs which I had already
described, David having an outfit exactly like mine, we had provisions
enough, as we hoped, to last until we reached Boston, and a cash
capital of a little over five dollars each. We were strong lads, and
capable of a great deal of exertion, and we figured out that we would
walk the distance in two days, begging the privilege of sleeping in
a barn during the intervening night. I left home immediately after
breakfast, which was served an hour earlier than usual, in order to
give me a good start. It was the same at David's house, and it was not
yet seven o'clock before we were on the road.
We got along all right for ten or twelve miles, meeting perhaps a
dozen people in wagons or on foot, and just stopping long enough to
"pass the time of day." Our first adventure was with a man in a wagon
and accompanied by a boy of about our age. The man spoke to us rather
gruffly, asked who we were, and where we were going.
We told him our names and our fathers' names, where we lived, and the
rest that the reader knows.
"I don't think you're telling the truth," said the man.
"We have told you the exact truth," I answered, "and my friend David
will say the same thing."
"Of course he would do so," was the answer, "but that won't make it
true. I believe you're a pair of runaway apprentices, and I'm going to
arrest you!"
"We are nothing of the sort," I answered, "we have never been
apprenticed to anybody, and we're not running away."
"We'll see about that," was his reply, "get into the hind part of my
wagon, and come back to the village."
David and I exchanged glances momentarily, and each shook his head.
David said, in a low whisper, "We won't go. It will lose us too much
time."
Thereupon I spoke up and answered, "We don't want to ride in your
wagon back to the village or anywhere else, and we won't do it. We will
keep on our road, and if you choose to bring the sheriff to arrest us
you may do so. We warn you beforehand, that we shall demand that our
expenses shall be paid if you find out that we have told the truth."
"Get into the wagon, I say. Do as I tell you!"
David was about to speak up, when I shook my head and warned him to be
silent. I briefly replied, "Good-day, sir," David doing the same, and
we proceeded on our journey.
The man called after us two or three times. In fact, he got down
from his wagon, throwing the reins into the hands of the boy that
accompanied him. We quickened our pace, and I suppose he realized that
he would have a very difficult task to coerce two able-bodied youths of
seventeen into entering his wagon against their wills. At all events,
he did not follow us, and, looking over my shoulder, I saw him remount
his wagon-seat and proceed on his way.
Perhaps I ought to explain that it was the custom of that time to
apprentice, or bind out, boys to learn trades. According to law and
practice, a boy was bound to serve his master for seven years, in
return for learning the trade and being fed and clothed during the
time of his apprenticeship. Sometimes the apprentice received wages for
his services during the last year, or the last two or three years, of
his time; and sometimes a premium was paid by the apprentice or on his
behalf. A good deal depended on the character of the trade in which he
was engaged, and also upon the excess or scarcity of boys wishing to
learn trades.
The man who stopped us was fairly justified in suspecting that we were
runaway apprentices, as it was in no ways unusual for boys who had been
bound out and thought that they were badly treated, to run away from
their masters. Usually they went in pairs, and they also directed their
steps to the nearest important seaport, for the double reason that they
could more easily avoid recapture, and at the same time find employment
of some sort. The great majority of the boys of that time had, like
David and myself, a longing for the sea, and it was quite natural for
any one meeting us on the road to conclude that we were what the man
supposed us to be when he endeavored to stop us.
We kept steadily on our way and met with no further trouble. When we
judged, by the position of the sun and also by the distance we had
traveled that it was past the hour of noon, we sat down by the bank of
a brook at the roadside, opened our packs, and took out our dinner. We
had ravenous appetites from our long walk, and the cold meat and bread
which had been prepared for us was quickly eaten. We washed it down
with water from the brook, and after resting for perhaps half an hour,
went on.
About sunset we reached a good-looking house on the right-hand side of
the road, and perhaps a hundred yards away from it. Somewhat timidly we
approached, going around to the side door, and not venturing to make
our call at the front one. A stern-looking man came out, and before we
spoke he eyed us with apparent suspicion. Evidently he was like the
man on the road and took us for runaway apprentices; at all events his
manner had very little welcome in it and I thought it best to explain
at once who we were.
"We are the sons of Samuel Crane and William Taylor of Pembroke," I
said. "We are on our way to Boston, with our fathers' consent, to go
to sea, and we ask the privilege of sleeping in your barn to-night if
you have no objection. If you want us to do any work to pay for our
lodging, we are ready to do it, or we will pay in money if you insist."
The idea of paying for sleeping in a barn seemed to hit him on the
funny side, as the sternness of his features relaxed, and a smile
played about them. In reply to my statement and request he said,--
"Looks to me very much as though you youngsters were running away from
your masters. Are you telling me the truth?"
"Yes, sir," I replied; "we are telling you the exact truth. We have no
papers about us to prove who we are, but we give you our words that we
are not runaways at all, but just what we claim to be."
"Let me see what you have in that bundle," said the man. "I want to be
sure you haven't taken anything that doesn't belong to you."
I felt a flush of anger as he made this suggestion, and was about
to reply rather tartly to the intimation that we might have stolen
something. But the consciousness of my innocence of any wrong-doing,
and, furthermore, the knowledge that the contents of our packs would
prove it, restrained me. I said not a word, but undid my bundle and
spread the contents before his eyes.
He gave a rapid glance at the articles displayed, and said in a sort of
undertone, "New clothes, new stockings, new shirt; nothing else; all
right." Then addressing himself to us directly, he said,--
"Boys, I believe just what you've told me. No runaway apprentice
carries a pack like that. You are welcome to sleep in my barn; no, you
sha'n't do that, you shall sleep in the house! You're hungry, and will
want some supper; come right in."
"Thank you, sir," I said; "our mothers put up something for us to eat,
enough to last us to Boston, provided we are economical. So we can eat
our supper out here under the trees, and will sleep wherever you tell
us to."
"Oh, nonsense, boys, come into the house and eat supper here. Save your
provisions for to-morrow, and then you can eat just as hearty a dinner
as you want to on the road without fear of starvation."
We thanked him and accepted his invitation. We had a good supper, and
after it sat and talked with the farmer perhaps for an hour or more,
told him our plans, and all about ourselves and families. The farmer
and his wife were very kind to us; they told us they had two children,
a boy about our age, and a girl two or three years younger. Both of
them were away on a visit to some relatives in a neighboring town,
and I fancied that the farmer and his wife were rather glad of their
absence, lest we might have aroused in their boy a desire to follow our
example.
We found that we had walked a little more than half the entire distance
from our homes to Boston; if we traveled at the same rate we would
reach Boston at sunset of the next day. As we were leaving the house of
our hospitable friend in the morning, after a good breakfast, for which
and the supper and lodging he would take no compensation, he suggested
to us that we had better stop outside of Boston three or four miles,
so as to enter the city in the morning.
"Your best way of going into Boston is through Charlestown," he said.
"When you get about three miles this side of Boston look out for a red
house on the left of the road, with a clump of trees around it, and ask
if that is where Mr. Johnson lives. Tell him you spent the night with
me, my name is Samuel Bickford, and I recommended you to him. He may
have the same suspicion of you as I had, and you can satisfy him just
as you satisfied me as to your character, and you can convince him that
you passed the night at my house by describing the place and the folks
in it."
We thanked him very kindly for his advice, and promised that if it ever
came in our way we would certainly make a return for his hospitality. I
little thought at that time that the opportunity would ever arrive, and
certainly I did not, in my wildest dreams, imagine the way in which it
would come about.
As I look back now to our reception at this house, I take great credit
to David and myself that we made such a favorable impression on our
host.
It was then about seventeen years since the close of the Revolutionary
War, and during all this time the country had been overrun by idle
fellows who served in the army, and after the disbandment of the
troops took to a wandering, and, in many cases, a dissolute, life.
They tramped along the principal highways, and, in fact, over pretty
nearly all the roads of New England. They begged their food and
lodging, though more frequently they stole the lodging outright, as
they slept in barns without troubling themselves to ask the privilege
of doing so.
As the years rolled on their number decreased, but at the time of which
I write they were quite numerous, and in winter filled the jails and
poor-houses to over-flowing. Like ourselves, they had an aversion to
winter travel, but started out in the spring. You will remember that we
left home in the spring, and consequently were beginning our journeys
at the same time as these tramping idlers began theirs.
They pretended to be seeking work, but were careful never to find it.
In summer they wanted a job at shoveling snow, and in winter professed
to be hay-makers. People living along the highways had suffered much
from the beggary and depredation of this class of individuals, and
consequently it is more the wonder that our host so readily accepted
our story and gave us the hospitality of his house. It must have been
that the frank and honest faces of David and myself served as our
passports on that occasion.
We found Mr. Johnson's house without difficulty, were received at first
in the same suspicious manner as on the night before, and afterwards
with the same open-handed hospitality. In the morning we walked rapidly
into Boston, and, not knowing where to go, headed straight for the
water-front and the ships that lay there.
As we crossed the bridge from Charlestown to Boston, our curiosity was
roused at the sight of the vessels anchored in the harbor or lying at
the piers. We had never before seen a ship; the largest floating craft
of any kind that had ever greeted our eyes were the row-boats on the
Merrimac River, and the cargo-boats that plied occasionally between
the falls along that stream. Neither kind of craft was numerous, and
all were the merest pigmies compared with the vessels we saw after we
reached Boston.
As we stood looking at a ship at the head of one of the wharves, a man
came up and spoke to us. He asked who we were, and where we had come
from; to both of which questions we promptly replied. Then he said,--
"I suppose you've come to Boston to find a ship, haven't you?"
"Yes, sir." I answered; "that's what we've come for. Can you tell us of
a ship that is going to sea right away?"
"Yes, I can," he answered; "this ship right here, the Washington, is
going to sail just as soon as she can get a crew. How old are you?"
We told our ages, and added that we knew nothing about ships at all,
but thought we could learn.
"Oh, you'll learn quick enough," he answered, "there's no fear of that.
I'll go aboard with you, and see if the captain will take you along.
Come ahead, boys, this way, come along."
He started in the direction of the ship, which was tied up to the
wharf, and we followed. He led us up the gang-plank, and very quickly
we found ourselves standing on the deck of what seemed to us a colossal
craft.
"Stay here a minute," said our new-found friend, "while I find the
captain;" and away he went in search of that individual.
Very soon he returned and took us aft to the captain's room. The
captain questioned us very sharply, and he did not impress either of us
favorably. After a good many questions he seemed satisfied, and said he
would take us as green hands. Then he called the mate of the ship to
accompany us to the shipping office, where we "signed articles," and
then went with the mate to the ship again.
The man who had first accosted us disappeared when he introduced us to
the captain, and we did not see him again until he came on board with
a sailor who was considerably under the influence of liquor. The man
proved to be a runner for the ship, or rather for the shipping office
that had undertaken to supply the Washington with a crew. Two likely
lads like ourselves were prizes for him, but he did not consider it
worth his while to say so.
The mate showed us where we were to sleep, and small as had been the
garrets in which we slept at home, they were palatial compared with our
new quarters. We were in the forward part of the vessel, and each of us
had a narrow bunk that was built up against the sides. There was just
room enough in each bunk to lie there comfortably; turning over was a
matter of difficulty, and David said that the best way to turn over was
to turn out and then get in the other way.
Then the mate went with us to a shop not far away, where we were rigged
out with sailors' suits, which he said would be charged against us on
the ship's books. "Anything you want," said he, "on the voyage, you
will get out of the slop-chest, and be charged with it in the same way."
The clothing we had taken off was made into bundles, and then we
started with the mate back to the ship again. On our journey from the
ship to the shop we followed him; but on the return he kept us in
front, and so near that he could grasp either of our collars at the
same time. He had been quite good-natured and pleasant spoken, but
now that we had been shipped and were dressed as sailors, he was very
gruff, and ordered, rather than requested us. When we got on board the
ship he was all right again.
I didn't understand it then, but did afterward. You see that, the
moment we got into those new clothes, we were in possession of ship's
property, and if we had run away there would have been a loss of the
value of the goods. It was the mate's duty to see that we didn't run
away, and he carried it out fully.
When we got on board we were set at work clearing up things about
the ship. Her deck was covered with lumber, and, though her hold was
nearly full of cargo, packages, barrels, and boxes continued to arrive
at frequent intervals. As fast as they came they were lowered into
the hold, and before sunset the space below was crowded to its full
capacity, and the hatches were put on. In our work we had nothing to do
with the cargo, but were put in charge of a good-natured sailor named
Bill Haines, who was to show us how to perform our duties. We got along
with him very well, but when night came we were heartily tired, and
after a supper of stewed beef and potatoes, with dry biscuit, we went
to our bunks and slept soundly. No, I can't say that we slept soundly,
but we would have done so had we not been disturbed repeatedly during
the night by the arrival of other members of the crew, the majority of
them in a condition of greater or less intoxication.
Then, too, the place was badly ventilated, and the air was very foul. I
compared it with our garrets at home, with thin cracks that allowed the
wind to blow in upon us, and the comparison was not at all in favor of
the ship. I had a headache in the morning, and so had David; but a few
whiffs of the air on deck made us all right again.
CHAPTER III.
DEPARTURE FROM BOSTON.--OUT AT SEA.--WHAT HAPPENED TO ME.--MEETING
A STRANGER.
In the morning the last of the crew came on board, or rather were
brought there, as the most of them were so intoxicated that they were
unable to walk. I told David I didn't want to go to sea with such men
as that, and he agreed with me. He suggested that we had better go and
speak to the captain before the ship got away from the dock, and ask
him to let us go ashore and stay there.
Our conversation was overheard by Bill Haines, who laughed heartily at
the proposal to see the captain and be let off from going to sea. When
his laugh was ended, a serious look came over his face, and he said,--
"Now, my lads, you'll be making fools of yourselves. You've signed
articles for the voyage, and the captain wouldn't dream of letting you
off. Besides, those drunken fellows that you've just seen hauled on
board will be all right by to-morrow. They've been having a bit of a
spree, and that's all there is about it. When the rum gets out of them
they'll be good enough sailors, you may be sure."
"But I don't want to go to sea with them," I said. "They'll be getting
this way every day; and I don't care to live among such men."
"You're a green 'un, and no mistake," said Haines. "They won't be
getting this way at all while they're at sea; the captain wouldn't let
'em. They can't get a drop of grog except when it's served out, and
there isn't enough of it served at one time for a man to get drunk on.
You're all right, lads; wait and see how it comes out."
Just then we were joined by another sailor, Joe Herne, with whom we
had already made some acquaintance. Joe and Bill were great friends,
and both David and I took a liking to the two men. They were bluff,
hearty, good-natured fellows, who had fought on a ship-of-war during
the Revolution, and since the declaration of peace had sailed in the
merchant marine. They could read and write, but their education did
not go much farther than that. Of the two I fancied Haines rather than
Herne; David took to Herne more than to Haines, and in this way each of
us found a friend from the very first day of our voyage.
With so many of the crew intoxicated to a degree of helplessness, the
ship was decidedly short-handed; and when the pilot came on board he
brought with him six or eight men, who were to help work the ship into
the lower bay. Several boxes and barrels were brought down to the dock
at the last moment and rolled on board; and the last thing that was
brought was a bag of letters, which I carried to the captain's room.
Then the lines were cast off, and the ship was slowly hauled into the
water, beyond the wharf where we had been tied up. It was just the
top of the tide when we left the wharf, and as we reached the middle
of the stream the ebb set in. I didn't know then what was meant by
ebb and flood; I had read about them in some of the books, but the
definitions were not clear to me. I spoke to Haines on the subject, and
he explained the terms to me; you may be sure that I thanked him very
earnestly for the information.
With the falling tide we drifted down the harbor and into the lower
bay, a slight wind from the north-west favoring our movements. We went
slowly, and it was pretty late in the afternoon before we reached the
point where the pilot had decided upon anchoring for the night. We
dropped anchor; and then a boat came alongside to take away the men who
had come on board with the pilot to assist in working the Washington to
where she lay.
It was much quieter that night on board the ship than on the previous
one; the intoxicated men were proving the truth of Haine's prediction,
as the next morning saw them all sobered up, though some were in a
condition which Herne described as "very shaky." All were able to work,
however, and were set about their duties, supervised by the first and
second mates, so that there was no danger of the rust accumulating in
their joints.
Some of the sailors had brought their chests with them; others had
come with bundles of varied size; and others had nothing except the
clothing in which they stood. To these last, the mate served out
shirts, trousers, and jackets, from the slop-chest, and the garments
thus obtained were charged to the account of the man who received them.
You may be sure that the prices were high enough, as it was not the
intention of the owners of the ship to lose money in any transactions
with the crew. I suspected as much at the time; since I became mate and
captain I have learned all about it.
It was a dead calm all through the forenoon, and the pilot went
anxiously about the ship, hoping, whistling, praying, and swearing,
for a wind. He obtained what he wanted after a time, but whether his
prayers or his oaths brought it, "deponent sayeth not."
The wind came from the westward, and was favorable to our getting to
sea. When the first puffs of the breeze ruffled the water, the anchor
was lifted, and the sails were unfurled. Slowly the ship started from
where she had been lying, and as the breeze increased her sails filled
out, and in less than half an hour from the time the anchor left the
muddy bed where it had rested for the night, we were going ahead at a
fairly good speed.
Just outside of Cape Cod the ship backed her sails and hove-to long
enough to let the pilot and his men descend into a boat that came
alongside. I confess to a momentary longing to jump into the boat and
go ashore with them. My sea life thus far had not been what my fancy
painted it, and I feared that the reality, as time went on, would be
altogether unlike what I had seen in my dreams. I think, too, that
David had the same thought in his mind; but both of us had the good
sense to keep our thoughts to ourselves and make no attempt to go
ashore. I remembered what Haines had told me the day before, and did
not make any exposition of my ignorance of marine ways.
When the pilot had been dropped we squared away, and were speedily
plowing again through the water. When David and I signed articles we
did not know where we were bound; we were going to sea, that was all.
It did not occur to me to ask about our destination until we had left
the dock and were directing our course towards the lower bay. Haines
told me that we were bound on a voyage up the Mediterranean; we should
go first to Gibraltar, from Gibraltar to Barcelona, and thence perhaps
to Marseilles. As he phrased it, we were going to "Gibraltar and a
market;" that is, Gibraltar was our first destination, and then we
would go wherever our cargo could be sold and a return one bought to
the best advantage.
The wind freshened, and gradually went around into the south-east. The
sea was smooth enough at the time we dropped the pilot, but very soon
it became rough, and I found the motion too much for me. The fact is, I
was having an attack of sea-sickness, and David was undergoing the same
experience. Haines noticed our condition, and kindly suggested to the
mate that the youngsters had better be sent below. The mate took a good
look at us, smiled for an instant, and then said,--
"Bear a hand there, kids, and go below; you'll appear best alone. Go
below, both of you."
I would have preferred to remain on deck, but the orders were
imperative, and besides I was rapidly getting into a condition in which
I would be unable to stand. So we disappeared and lay down in our
bunks. David pitched headforemost into his sleeping-place as the ship
gave a lurch. Under ordinary circumstances I should have laughed at
the sight, but at that moment I was in no laughing mood. The bunks in
the forecastle, the low deck over our heads, and the swinging lantern
were moving in a variety of directions. Everything whirled, including
my head, and so rapidly that I thought it a good plan to stand still
where I was, and, when my bunk came around, jump into it and be safe.
I jumped, but did so at the wrong time, and came down with a sprawl. My
success was greater at the next effort, and I landed in the berth.
When I got myself stretched out I was as helpless as any of the drunken
men had been the day before, and I wondered if it were not the case
that they had been sea-sick in anticipation of going to sea, just as
one loses his appetite at the expectation of something unpleasant.
As for appetite, I had absolutely none. I should have refused the
finest viands from a king's kitchen, and even the very thought of
eating seemed to add to my illness. Joe Herne came to see if we wanted
anything, but there was nothing we cared for; and we made the same
answer to Bill when he came in during the next watch to look after
us. David whispered to me that he wished himself back at home, and I
acknowledged to precisely the same desire. "It's a pity," said David,
"that the man who thought we were runaway apprentices did not arrest
us, and supply us with masters who would keep us on land."
I would willingly have been apprenticed to a cobbler or a traveling
tinker rather than be in the predicament where I then found myself.
But there's no cloud without a silver lining, and no night that is not
followed by day. For about forty hours, it must have been fully that,
we lay in our bunks without eating a morsel. By and by our appetites
returned, and David said to our friend Bill that he thought he could
eat a little gruel.
"Gruel, you greenhorn," said Haines, "you'll get no gruel here. What
you'll get is scouse and dundy funk, and prog of that sort. Gruel ain't
a forecastle dish, anyhow. D'yer think you could manage a bit o' salt
horse?"
"Salt horse," said David, "no, I don't want to eat any kind of
horse-meat, salt or fresh. Do we really have to eat horse on this ship?"
Haines laughed, and said,--
"No, my lad; you don't have to eat horse-meat, though the stuff they
give us might just as well be out of a horse as from an ox. Salt horse
is the name they give to the beef they salt down for sailors' use. It
ain't the choicest kind of chicken cutlet in the world, by no means.
Anything's good enough for a sailor, and they give us the meat of bulls
and worked out oxen cut up and packed in brine and kept till it's as
hard as a handspike. That's salt horse.
"We had scouse to-day for dinner," continued Haines, "and I'll go and
see if I can't get you some. I told the cook that you two greenhorns
might be getting alongside of your appetites, and if so you'd want
something to eat."
Bill went away, leaving David and myself wondering what scouse could
be. In a little while he returned with a dish of meat, stewed with
potatoes and pieces of bread. Then we knew what scouse was. Later on in
our voyage, when the potatoes gave out, we had it of stewed meat and
bread only.
We ate some of the stew, and drank a pot of coffee which Bill brought
along at the same time as the scouse. Then Bill left us and we settled
down to sleep.
We slept better than at any time since we came on board, and felt much
refreshed when we waked. We also felt hungry, which Joe Herne remarked
was a very good sign, and went off to the cook's galley to see what he
could get for us. He brought a good-sized piece of the so-called salt
horse, and divided it between us. We ate this, along with some bread,
and then concluded to get up.
"Stay where you are, my lads, stay where you are," said Joe in a
fatherly sort of way; "if you go on deck now you'll run the risk of
being set to work, and you're not quite ready for it. To-morrow you'll
be all right, and can do your share. Take it easy to-day, and keep
quiet."
Very soon I realized the force of his advice, as I found on trying to
stand up that I was decidedly weak. We spent the rest of that day and
all of the night in our bunks, but the next morning we went out to
breakfast when our watches were called, and did our share of eating.
From that time forward we had our sea-legs on, as Bill Haines expressed
it, and our appetites were like those of young tigers. Sea-sickness had
no further terrors for either David or myself.
Perhaps I ought to explain that the crew of a ship is divided into
"watches;" that is, they are separated into two lots, or divisions, one
of them known as the larboard, and the other as the starboard watch.
The larboard watch is on duty with the first mate, and the starboard
with the second mate. I am speaking now of a good-sized craft. There's
many a vessel that has no second or third officer, simply a captain
and mate. The captain and mate stand watch and watch, and the crew is
so small that when changes are made in the positions of the sails, or
anything else out of the ordinary routine takes place, all hands are
called. The day and night are divided into watches of four hours each,
except the period from four to eight o'clock in the afternoon, which is
divided into two "dog-watches," of two hours each. The object of the
dog-watch is to prevent the same men being always on duty at the same
hours.
David was put into the larboard watch, while I was assigned to the
starboard; Bill was in the watch with me, and Joe Herne was in David's.
At first David and I were sorry that we had not been put together, but
we very soon realized that it was an advantage for us to be separated.
We could see quite enough of each other daily, especially in the
dog-watches, and we were likely to learn more about the sea and its
ways, separated as we were, than if we had been put together. Each of
us had a staunch friend in his own watch, Haines in mine, as I before
stated, and Herne in David's. They were our warm and sincere friends
from the start, and, live as long as I may, I shall never forget them.
When we went on deck, after our recovery from sea-sickness, I looked
around me and scanned the entire horizon. Nothing but water was in
sight; no land, no sail, not even the tiniest island to break the
monotony of the view. Sea and sky comprised everything in the range of
our vision. Our footing was somewhat unsteady, as there was quite a sea
on, which had been raised by the steady wind which was then about due
south.
"We're at sea, sure enough," remarked David, "and what a pretty color
the water is!"
"You've not seen the prettiest of it yet by a long shot," said Haines;
"wait till we get into blue water, where it's a mile or two to the
bottom."
"Isn't this blue water we're in now?" queried David.
"No," was the reply, "we're not off soundings yet, though we probably
shall be before the day is over. When we get off soundings we'll be in
what the sailors call blue water; on soundings we call it green water.
Look at the waves where they're breaking, and in the wake behind us,
and you'll see that the water has a greenish color. Later on we won't
see so much of that; the green will disappear and blue will take its
place."
We were much interested in this bit of information, and in many other
things which were told to us by our friends. On the whole we had quite
a good lesson in sea-life during the morning, as we were informed what
our duties were in our watches on deck, and afterwards learned the
meaning of a watch below.
While we were talking there was a cry from the mast-head of "Sail ho!"
"Where away?" called the mate, who was then in charge of the deck.
"Two points on the weather bow!" was the reply.
The captain was below at the time, and the mate sent word to him
immediately. In three minutes he was on deck with his glass, but the
stranger was too far away to be made out. We held our course for
an hour or more, and by the end of that time the sail was clearly
discernible from the deck.
The captain scanned her eagerly, and after a careful survey ordered a
change of course, so that we should avoid meeting the stranger.
CHAPTER IV.
OVERHAULED BY A BRITISH WAR-SHIP.--SEARCH FOR DESERTERS.--THE
CAPTAIN PLAYS A YANKEE TRICK.
On the courses which the two vessels had been running we would have
crossed each other's track very nearly together, and it was evidently
our captain's intention to avoid doing so. That the stranger wished to
meet us was evident, as she changed her course to pursue us very soon
after our helm was put over. Our captain remarked to the mate that he
thought from her rig that the other ship was a man-of-war, probably
British, but she displayed no colors, and even had her flag been flying
we were too far off to make it out.
I asked Haines why it was that we were steering away from the stranger.
"Even if she is a British man-of-war," I said, "why should we wish
to avoid her? We are at peace with England, and have been since the
Revolution, and she certainly wouldn't harm us now, anyhow."
"Don't be so sure of that, sonny," Haines replied; "she could and
probably would harm us a good deal."
[Illustration: THE OFFICER WALKED SLOWLY ALONG IN FRONT OF THEM. Page
53.]
"I wish you'd explain to me how she could do so, as she certainly would
have no right to capture us on the high seas now. We are on a peaceful
voyage, and our respective countries are not at war."
"You don't seem to understand sea things very well yet," Haines
answered. "You don't know how the British ships-of-war have been
treating American merchantmen ever since the Revolution."
"How is that?" I asked.
"Well, they treat us very much as if we had no rights whatever," was
the reply. "Great Britain claims that when a man is once a subject of
that country he is always a subject, and if the government wants him
for any purpose it has a right to take him wherever he can be found."
"Oh, I see," said I; "if there are any Englishmen on board the
Washington, and a British man-of-war wants them, her captain has a
right to take them."
"Yes, that's it exactly. It's what the English call the Right of
Search. If we sailed on so that we should be in range of that British
ship, supposing she is a British one and a man-of-war, and she happened
to be short-handed in her crew, she would stop us and send a boat on
board to search for British deserters. Any man in our crew who was
suspected of being British would be liable to be carried away to serve
on the king's ship.
"And the beggars are not at all particular about it, either," he
continued; "they'll pick out men who were born in America, and perhaps
have never been to sea before in all their lives, and say they
recognize them as British deserters. They might pick out you and your
mate David and carry you off in spite of all your protests. They've
done it many a time, and as our captain doesn't want to lose any of his
crew, he's trying to avoid that fellow by steering away.
"There are hundreds of Americans serving to-day in the king's ships,"
said Haines, "who were impressed and carried away without the least
reason or excuse, except that the British captain who overhauled them
wanted more men and was determined to have them.
"I'll tell you more about this matter some other time," said Haines, as
he turned and walked away from me.
While the conversation was going on, and it was much longer than I
have given it here, I had paid no attention to the other ship. As soon
as Haines left me I looked over the rail and saw that our pursuer was
coming nearer to us. She was a fast sailer, and besides she had the
weather gauge of the Washington, and that was a considerable advantage.
She continued to gain, though we spread every sail and did our best to
get away. When she was within about two miles of us she fired a gun as
a signal to us to heave to.
We paid no attention to her signal, but continued on our way with every
inch of canvas spread that could draw.
A stern chase is a long chase; all day long we ran and they ran after
us. It was pretty well along in the afternoon when the stranger fired
her gun, and both ships were doing their best, the one to escape, and
the other to overhaul.
It was a little before sunset when the British vessel, for she had hung
out her colors and revealed her nationality, had reached a point within
shooting distance. She fired another gun with a blank cartridge, to
which we paid no attention, as before.
Then she fired a gun which had a shot in it, and the shot whistled
past us, a little high in the air, but barely missing our sails. Our
captain, who had been pacing the deck furiously, gave the order to
heave to; he realized that his pursuer would endeavor to sink the
Washington unless we complied with her very emphatic request to stop.
The stranger came up and hove to within little more than a hundred
yards of us. Then she hailed us, saying,--
"What ship is that?"
Our captain answered that it was the Washington, of and from Boston,
and bound to Gibraltar and a market. Haying given this answer he
asked,--
"What ship is that?"
To this the stranger made no reply other than to say, "I'll send a boat
on board!"
A boat containing an officer and four men came alongside the
Washington, and the officer quickly ascended to the deck by means of
the rope which had been lowered for him.
"What do you mean by running away from us?" was his first question as
his feet touched the deck.
"I ran away because I didn't want to meet you," our captain replied;
"that's all there is about it."
"Keep a civil tongue in your cheek," said the British officer, "or
you'll be sorry you didn't."
"Perfectly civil," replied our captain; "you asked a plain question,
and I answered it, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," said the officer; "but be careful about the rest of
your answers. Call all hands, and let me see your crew!"
I believe, from the appearance of our captain's face, that if he had
not realized the consequence of such an act, he would have seized the
nearest handspike and laid the Britisher flat on the deck. His color
came and went, and it seemed to me that for fully a minute he stood
perfectly still, and made no reply. At the end of a long pause he
nodded to the mate, and said, "Call all hands."
The mate passed the order to Haines, who went to the forecastle
gangway, and yelled down into the interior of the ship, "All hands
ahoy!" The performance was a useless one, as everybody was on deck at
the time, all having become excited over the presence of the British
war-ship, and knowing perfectly well there was no way of escaping
inspection.
I said everybody was on deck, but in that I was mistaken, though I did
not notice it at the moment. One of our sailors had disappeared, but
our captain seemed to be as ignorant of the fact as I was, as he told
the officer the crew was all before him, and he could look them over.
The men were lined up against the weather rail, and the officer walked
slowly along in front of them, scanning each face very closely. When he
came to Haines, he asked his name and where he came from.
"My name's Bill Haines," was the answer, "and I come from Salem, in
Massachusetts."
"Oh, Salem," said the officer, "Salem; were you born there?"
"Yes, sir; I was born in Salem, and if you've ever been there, and know
anything about it, I'll tell you all the streets in the city."
"I've never been there, and don't want to go," the officer replied;
"you're a British deserter, and you come from Devonshire!"
"That's a lie!" said Bill; "I never saw Devonshire, or any other shire
of England, in my life!"
"Be careful how you talk to a British officer! Be careful!"
"When a British officer, or any other man, tells me something about
myself wot ain't true, I've a right to say so, haven't I?"
"You've a right to use a civil tongue, and you'll use it before I get
through with you."
"I was born in Salem, and here's the papers to show I'm an American."
With that Bill drew from a pocket inside his shirt his American
protection papers, made out in regular form and shape, so that there
was no denying his nationality. The officer took the papers in his
hand, scanned them quickly, and then, dropping them on the deck, not
condescending to return them to their owner, he proceeded to the next
man.
He asked almost exactly the same questions that he had in Haines's
case, and received practically the same replies, though they were
less independent in their character. When he came to me, I answered
his questions promptly, told where I was born, how old I was; in
fact, informed him of all he wished to know. He seemed to hesitate
over my case, as to whether he should take me along or not, but
evidently concluded that there was not the least shadow of a reason
which he could allege for believing that I was of British birth, and,
furthermore, my youth was such that it would have been almost ludicrous
to claim me as a deserter.
David was standing next to me and of course his answers were almost
identical with mine. To make assurance doubly sure, the officer
required David to step out of earshot of me, and answer certain
questions which he asked about the distance between our houses, the
number and names of the members of our families, and little matters of
that sort. Then he sent David back to his place in the line and called
me out to answer the same questions. The similarity of our replies
satisfied him of the truth of our stories and we were not further
molested.
It took him perhaps half an hour to get through with the examination
of the crew. He found two men who admitted that they were of British
birth, but had lived a good while in America and had protection papers,
showing that they had been duly naturalized and were citizens of the
United States. They denied emphatically that they had ever served in
the British navy, but he paid no attention to their denials and ordered
them down into his boat. He evidently wanted to take along our friend
Joe Herne, and doubtless would have done so if Joe had not been armed
with his protection papers in the same way that Haines was.
Then he called up one of his men from the boat and said he would search
the ship to see if anybody had hidden away. Accompanied by the sailor
he went through the forecastle, and afterwards through the quarters of
the captain and mates. The captain appeared to be mollified somewhat
during the search, and thankful that he was losing only two men. While
the search was going on in the cabin he asked the officer to take a
glass of rum.
It was rather derogatory to the British dignity for an officer of a
king's ship to drink with an American merchant captain, and our skipper
appeared to recognize the fact. Placing the bottle and a single glass
on the table, he briefly said, "Help yourself," and then stepped
respectfully aside.
The officer smacked his lips over the glass of rum, and then poured
out a second one, the sailor whom he had brought on board standing
respectfully behind him. Neither of them noticed that the captain
had left the cabin and gone on deck, or if they did observe it they
suspected nothing. The officer found the rum of excellent quality, and
it did not take long for his brain to become considerably muddled.
Meantime something he little dreamed of was going on outside the cabin.
A signal of recall had been hoisted on the British ship, from which
we had drifted somewhat, so that the distance was twice as great as
when the officer came on board. Somehow our captain did not observe the
signal of recall; neither did the mate nor anyone else.
I asked Haines what the signal was, and he replied in a low voice,
"Shut your mouth, you young idiot! Don't ask no questions; don't you
see the old man's looking the other way?"
I turned my eyes in the direction of the captain, and found that his
gaze was directed as far as possible from the British ship. He was
doing nothing in particular, and I thought he might be looking out to
see if any other ship was happening along from that quarter of the
ocean.
Ten or fifteen minutes passed away in this manner, and then a gun was
fired from the man-of-war.
The firing of the gun compelled our captain to look in the direction
whence the sound came, and after looking a moment toward the other
vessel, he proceeded slowly toward the cabin, where he had left the
officer and the bottle of rum enjoying each other's society. He told
the officer about the signal of the gun-fire, and the latter thanked
him in a voice that was decidedly husky.
The condition of the sailor who accompanied the officer below showed
that he had been treated to a drink or two; the kindly nature of
the officer had been awakened by the rum that he had imbibed, and he
wished all around him to be happy. It's very easy to be generous with
what belongs to somebody else. When the officer and his man came on
deck, the former was very effusive in his thanks to our captain for
his hospitality. Thereupon the captain asked that he would let the two
alleged deserters come aboard the ship a moment to get their dunnage.
"Oh, certainly," said the officer, who was in a condition to consent to
anything. He turned to the sailor and told him to order the men up.
The sailor obeyed his instructions, and in a moment the men were on
deck and told to go below and get their dunnage. Then the officer went
over the side and descended into his boat, followed by the sailor.
By this time night had begun to spread over the ocean, and the darkness
was such that it half obscured the outline of the British ship. When
the officer and sailor had reached the boat, our captain gave an order
in a low voice to the mate to brace around the yards and square away.
"And don't make any fuss about it, either," he added; "be as quiet as
you can."
Every man went to his post, and almost in less time than it takes me to
tell it, the yards were braced around, the sails were filling, and the
ship was hauling away from her disagreeable neighbor. The Britishers
in the boat alongside discovered what we were about, and the officer
yelled out,--
"What are you doing there? Heave-to, or I'll sink you!"
"Heave-to yourself, soon's you like!" replied our captain; and then,
leaning over the side, he added, "you'd better cast off and go home to
your mother!"
The language that his Majesty's officer used in reply I will not
repeat. It was more forcible than elegant, and if oaths could have sunk
the Washington she would soon have been at the bottom of the sea. After
a few minutes' practice with his lungs in this way, the officer came to
his senses and cast off. There was no danger that he would not reach
his ship safely, as there was no heavy sea running, and she had several
lights visible, in addition to the fact that the darkness was not yet
such as to hide her from sight.
Of course our maneuver was discovered, but not until a few minutes
after we made it. Those few minutes were precious, as they enabled us
to increase materially the distance between the ships, and it lessened
in the same degree the chances of being hit by the shots which they now
sent after us. We paid no attention to the firing, but spread every
stitch of canvas to enable us to get away. In half an hour the other
vessel was completely out of sight by reason of the darkness; and we
argued that when we were unable to make her out she could not see us.
We took a course midway between the one on which we were sailing when
we espied the stranger, and the one to which we changed; by that means
we hoped to throw her quite off our track. Not a light was allowed
anywhere, not even in the binnacle, the steering being done mainly by
the stars. Three or four times during the night the captain darkened
the ports, and made a small light in his cabin, to look at the compass
which hung over the dinner-table and make sure that we were running on
the proper course.
We looked around very anxiously in the morning, and were gratified to
discover that our late acquaintance had disappeared somewhere beyond
the horizon. She was out of sight, but not out of mind; in fact, she
was the sole topic of conversation, and we all fell to wondering what
she would do with us if she should overhaul us again.
"One thing her skipper would do," said Haines, "he'd keel-haul our
captain for getting his officer drunk."
"Ay, that he would," said Herne, "and I don't envy the position of that
officer when he got back to his ship, and had to acknowledge that he
was the victim of a Yankee trick."
"Another thing he'd do," said one of the sailors, "he'd take off about
two-thirds of the Washington's crew, and leave us so short-handed that
we'd have a hard time getting to port."
"'Twas a lucky go," said another, "that them two fellers wot he picked
out as deserters come back to get their dunnage."
"Yes, and they'd never come back if it hadn't been that the officer had
lost his head with the captain's rum-bottle. They ought to take that
rum-bottle and tie it all around with ribbons, and set it up as an idol
to worship, just as the heathen do."
"Oh, nonsense, you can't expect good Americans to act like heathen! It
would have been a clear case of impressment if those men had been taken
on board the British ship, and the officer knew it just as well as the
men knew it themselves."
Various other comments were made which I do not remember at this
moment. After a while the conversation turned to Joe Waller, the man
who disappeared at the time the crew was mustered. Nobody knew exactly
what became of him, and every one was careful to make no surmise as to
his probable nationality. It was pretty generally believed that he was
British born, and had served on a king's ship. The captain probably had
an inkling of the matter, and told Waller where he could hide.
There was a linen-locker opening out of the captain's cabin, and the
top of it was finished so as to afford sufficient space for a small man
to climb up there, and stow himself away against the deck. Nobody would
ever think of looking there for a man, and it is just possible that the
place was originally designed for purposes of concealment. 'Twas lucky
for Joe that he was small, or he never could have got in there.
Waller came up as usual with his watch, and went on duty. Two or three
of us asked him where he was when the British officer came aboard;
at every question he assumed a wild appearance, and said he had been
taken up in the air by the Flying Dutchman, carried to the North Pole,
and then to the South Pole, and then back again to the Washington.
The Dutchman held him by the scruff of the neck all the time, and he
felt rather stiff and uncomfortable. The fact is, he was cramped so
in the linen-locker that it's no wonder he didn't have the use of his
joints for a day or so. After he had quizzed a few of us that way
with his yarn about the Flying Dutchman, we quit talking with him on
the subject. He was scared, and no mistake, and certainly he had good
reason to be.
Haines suggested that he hoped my shipmate, Waller, was the only one on
board to make any acquaintance with the Flying Dutchman. I had seen
mention of this individual in some of the books I had read, but no
explanation as to who he was; so I asked Haines about him.
"Does he have wings to fly with?" I inquired, "or does he float about
the sky on a machine of some sort? Perhaps he isn't a man, but just the
ghost of one."
CHAPTER V.
THE FLYING DUTCHMAN AND HIS HISTORY.--MEETING A SHIP WITH A
STARVING CREW.--RELIEF AND SAILING IN COMPANY.
"As to the Flying Dutchman," said Haines, "there's a good many stories
about him, and I don't know which is the true one. The one that's
oftenest told about him is that a Dutch captain, who wasn't a Christian
or anything else that's respectable, tried to get around Cape Horn
with a heavy gale blowing right in his teeth. He swore by all the bad
words he knew that he would do it; and as the gale grew worse and his
crew was frightened, he laughed at them as he drank his beer and smoked
his pipe. They got up a mutiny, and tried to make him run into port
somewhere; and he threw overboard every man who had joined in it.
"They do say," said Haines, almost in a whisper, "that the Holy Ghost
came down on the ship, and this Dutchman fired at it with his pistol!
Of course he didn't hurt the Holy Ghost at all; but the bullet went
through his own hand, and paralyzed his arm. He cursed God, and was
then condemned to navigate the seas forever, without putting into port,
having nothing but gall to drink and red-hot iron to eat, and to be
standing watch all the time."
[Illustration: THE SIGHT THAT MET HIS EYES WAS A TERRIBLE ONE. Page 70.]
"That's pretty tough, seems to me," I remarked. "Did he really have to
do it all?"
"They do say," continued Haines, "that he's been doing it ever since,
and that's more'n two hundred years ago. It's a misfortune to see his
ship,--an awful misfortune! They say it's worse than to see the Devil
to meet the Phantom Ship that the Flying Dutchman sails on. It always
wants to speak to any vessel that comes within hailing distance, and
always wants to send letters by her; but every ship that takes letters
from her is sure to be lost."
"Well, then, if I was captain of a ship," said I, "and met the Flying
Dutchman, I wouldn't take any of his letters for him."
"No more would I," said Haines; "but, what's more, when you see the
Phantom Ship, even though you don't speak her or take letters from her,
you are liable to have white squalls and hurricanes, waterspouts and
tornadoes. He has a crew that are just as bad scoundrels as himself.
They are thieves, cowards, murderers, and all such sort of fellows; and
they have to do just as he does, stay on watch all the time, and eat
and drink stuff that a Christian wouldn't and couldn't touch."
"Did you ever see the Flying Dutchman's ship?" I asked.
"N-o," said Haines, drawling out the word; "I've never seen the Phantom
Ship myself, but I've a good many friends what has seen it. You're not
likely to see him round these here latitudes; it's always away off
somewhere, generally down by the Cape of Good Hope, and between that
and Cape Horn. The Phantom Ship is always sailing with a fair wind and
everything spread, and she looks like the great big ghost that she is.
'Tisn't such a very large ship, the kind of craft the Dutchmen used to
have two or three hundred years ago; and the men that navigate her seem
to know their business.
"There's another phantom ship a good deal older and bigger than the
Flying Dutchman; so big is she that the ship I've been telling you
about wouldn't make a yawl for her. The French sailors call her the
Lightning Chaser; and she's so big that it takes her a year to make a
tack. Once, when she was bound north, she got stuck in the Straits of
Dover; but her captain smeared the port side of the ship with soap, and
she crept through; but the soap scraped off against the British cliffs,
and that's what makes 'em so white. When she got into the Baltic, the
sea was too narrow, and they had to lighten her. The ballast that she
threw over made the island of"--
A cry of "Sail ho!" from the mast-head attracted the attention of
everybody, and made a sudden end to the story of the Flying Dutchman.
I forgot to say that when we found in the morning that the man-of-war
was quite out of sight we changed our course back to the proper
one; that is, the one on which we were running when we sighted that
unwelcome stranger. The new sail was reported dead ahead: there was a
bare possibility that it might be the one whose acquaintance we made
the day before, and I heard the captain say to the mate that we'd
better change our course and avoid her; but no orders were given to do
so. The captain and mate went out of earshot of the men, and so I can't
tell what they talked about. They kept looking every little while, or
rather the captain did, at the sail which we were steadily nearing.
It was evident that she was not running in the same direction that we
were, or we would not have overhauled her so rapidly.
We had the weather-gauge of her, though, just as the Britisher had the
weather-gauge of us the day before. Consequently, if we did not like
her looks on getting nearer, it was quite easy for us to get out of her
way. It was my watch on deck at the time, and when I could do so I took
a squint at the ship, and wondered why the captain did not turn away
and leave her to herself.
On and on we went; and after a time Haines said to me,----
"I don't believe that's any man-of-war at all!"
"Why so?" I asked.
"Why, don't you see?" said he, "a man-of-war always looks a great deal
more trim and neat than a merchantman: they've plenty of men on board
to do all the work they want, and more too; and sometimes the officers
sits up nights to study up things to keep the men busy. The captain has
made out long ago that she ain't no man-of-war; for I can see it with
my naked eye. Her sails are all hanging lopsided like, and I'll bet
from the looks of her she's mighty short-handed in crew. Our captain's
running to speak to her; or, at all events, he's running near enough
for it."
The wheel had been put over a point or two and the yards braced around,
so that we were headed directly for the stranger. All the sailors on
the Washington were studying her, and wondering what she could be, and
she was guessed to be anything and everything that ever sailed the
seas. One of the men even guessed that she was an Indiaman, bound home
from round the Cape of Good Hope. I had seen pictures of Indiamen and
she certainly wasn't anything of that kind. Then she was thought to be
an English or French trader to the West Indies, and one of our men
thought she was a Spanish craft from some Spanish port to Mexico. The
suggestion that she was an Indiaman was laughed at, as she was quite
out of the course of vessels from the Cape of Good Hope for England,
and at that time we had practically no ships sailing between American
ports and the East Indies.
As we came nearer it was plain to perceive that there was something
wrong on board the stranger, as she was steering very wildly, and not
more than half her sails were pulling at all. She had a flag flying,
and when we were near enough to her to make it out, we saw that it was
the British cross of St. George, with the union down. Then we knew why
our captain had steered so straight for her; he had seen through his
glass the signal of distress and was going to her relief.
When we got near the ship two or three heads appeared above the rail.
Ordinarily there would have been a dozen or more on a craft of that
size, and we all wondered why so few were visible. The captain hailed
the vessel, and a faint answer came from her, too faint to be made out.
Then we lowered a boat, which was manned by Haines, Herne, and two
others of the crew, and carried our first mate, to visit the ship.
On reaching the strange vessel there was no rope hanging over the side
by which the mate could ascend to the deck; so he went up by the
forechains, which he managed to grasp by standing up in the boat. He
ordered his men to stay where they were, and climbed into the ship with
the quickness of a circus performer.
The sight that met his eyes was a terrible one. One man stood at the
wheel, but he was so weak from lack of food and water that he was
really unable to keep the ship on her course. Another man lay half
dead near him, and a third in the same condition was stretched at the
foot of the mainmast. As he went on board, the mate observed the name
"Warwick" on the bows of the ship, and the name, together with the flag
that was still flying, indicated her nationality to be English. He
spoke to the man at the wheel and asked where the captain was.
"Captain's dead, sir; dead a week ago," the man answered, in a very
feeble voice, scarcely more than a whisper. "First mate's in command,
sir; in the captain's cabin; just able to creep on deck once in a
while; he was up here when you hailed, but hadn't strength enough to
answer. We're out of water and provisions, and have been holding on and
holding on in hopes of help!"
The mate stopped to hear no more; he sprang to the side of the Warwick
which was the nearest to the Washington, and yelled with all the force
of his powerful lungs,--
"Water and provisions wanted, quick! Officers and crew dying of
starvation!"
Instantly our captain gave the order for water and biscuit to be placed
in the second mate's boat, and the boat lowered away at once. Other
things were added in the shape of boiled beef, some bread made the day
before, and a big pot of coffee which the cook had placed on the galley
when he heard that the strange ship was flying a signal of distress.
In a few minutes the boat was dancing on the waves, and at the same
time the first mate's boat was returning to the Washington. It was not
desirable to have both mates and eight of the crew away at once, and
the movement was made in this way so as to gain time in taking relief
to the unfortunate people on board the Warwick.
Before coming away from the Warwick our mate lowered ropes and the
ship's ladder over her sides, so as to facilitate the movements of the
second mate and the handling of the provisions. In addition to what I
have mentioned there was a bottle of brandy among the supplies sent
forward, and also two bottles of rum. Mr. Johnson, our second mate,
acted with great celerity in relieving the wants of the sufferers.
He gave each of them a small pannikin of coffee, with about a
tablespoonful of rum in it, along with a piece of bread, which he told
each man to eat very slowly, and take occasional sips of the mixture of
coffee and rum.
"After a while," said he, "you can have some salt horse, but you're not
ready for it now."
The man at the wheel and the three others on deck were first cared for,
two of our sailors assisting the mate, while the other two remained
in the boat at the ship's side. After attending to those on deck the
mate went to the cabin, where he found the Warwick's first mate lying
in his bunk, and hardly able to move. He gave him the same sort of
food and drink that he had given to the men on deck, except that he
put brandy in the coffee instead of rum, and then he proceeded to the
forecastle, where he found four of the crew, one of them in a dying
condition, and the other three but little better off. All these were
relieved in the manner already described, with the exception of the one
whom I have mentioned as in a dying condition; he was too feeble to
speak, and the muscles of his throat were so swollen that he could not
swallow anything. He died within an hour of the arrival of relief, and
it was Mr. Johnson's opinion that if the Warwick had failed to obtain
relief for another forty-eight hours she would have been quite without
officers or crew.
Our captain said that he would lie by the Warwick for the entire day,
and supply her with everything she needed that he could possibly spare.
After the men on board the unfortunate vessel had regained their
strength somewhat, they told their story.
The Warwick had sailed from Rio Janeiro nearly a year before, her
destination being London. She had been caught in the calms just south
of the equator, and lay there without moving a mile for several weeks
together. Then she got a breeze that carried her two or three degrees
north; the breeze died away, and left her in the doldrums as before.
For ten weeks she was held there as though she had been anchored, in
the terrific heat that prevails at the equator. She had two passengers,
an Englishman and his wife, on their way home from Brazil. Both of them
sickened and died from the effects of the heat, the wife being the
first to go. Three of the sailors, and also the second mate, became ill
during this period; and though they survived the period of calms they
never recovered; but died not long after. After a time a wind sprang up
which carried the ship to the northward, out of the equatorial belt of
calms and into the winds of the tropics.
Then followed a series of gales, some of them reaching the severity of
hurricanes. The ship was damaged considerably by the gales, and on two
or three occasions it was thought she would founder and carry with her
to the bottom of the ocean every one on board. At starting the Warwick
had taken provisions and water for six months, expecting long before
the end of that period to be safely anchored in the Thames.
She was blown far out of her course, water and provisions ran short,
the crew were put on half rations, and afterwards on quarter rations,
and on the day we sighted her not one of her party had drunk or eaten
anything for nearly twenty-four hours. Starvation, or what is nearly as
bad, cannibalism, stared the unfortunate mariners in the face; and Mr.
Johnson, our second mate, was no doubt within bounds when he said that
not one of the party could have survived forty-eight hours longer.
Several deaths had already occurred from lack of food and drink; the
captain died a week before the encounter of the ships, and the second
mate died on the same day. All the men had succumbed except those I
have mentioned,--the four that Mr. Johnson found on deck, four in the
forecastle, and the first mate in the captain's cabin.
It was plain that the crew of the Warwick, exhausted as they were by
famine and death, would be unable to navigate the ship safely to port.
When we met them they were drifting much more than sailing; the weather
had been very mild for the past fortnight, so the Warwick's mate told
us, and it was due to this circumstance, he added, that they were alive.
"If a gale had come up," said he, "we couldn't have done anything to
meet it. We couldn't have stowed a sail or tautened a brace, and there
isn't strength enough in all the crew together to put the ship's wheel
hard over and hold it there. You'll have to take us into port, or else
stay by us till we get strength enough to do it ourselves."
When Mr. Johnson came back and reported this our captain called his
officers into the cabin and held a consultation. Exactly what was
said I don't know; but when they came out on deck the captain gave
orders for twenty barrels of beef, and a corresponding amount of other
provisions, together with a good supply of water, to be put on board
the Warwick. While this was going on, our mate went to the Warwick
and had a talk with her mate; I suppose I ought to call him captain,
as that is what he really was at the time. When he came back there
was another conference, and then our second officer and six men were
transferred to the other ship.
Soon after the transfer was made the men on the Warwick, I mean those
that had been put aboard by the Washington, made sail as quickly as
they could and steered away to the eastward. We did the same thing, and
the two ships went along together, keeping from a few hundred yards
up to two or three miles apart. The indications were that we were to
sail in company, and an hour or two later I learned from Haines that my
surmise was correct.
"The old man has planned it," Haines explained, "that we shall keep
along, side by side, just as well as we can. The Warwick appears to be
about as good a sailer as the Washington, and though we lose a little
time in keeping together it won't be very much."
"But suppose," I asked, "a squall comes up in the night and blows us
apart, so that we can't see anything of each other next morning, what
then?"
"Oh, it's easy enough to fix that," Haines answered, "and that's fixed
already. If we get blown apart we'll meet at a point somewhere ahead;
our captain will tell Mr. Johnson, perhaps I ought to call him Captain
Johnson now, that we shall meet at a certain place. He'll give him
the latitude and longitude every day where we are to meet at noon the
next day, and the first ship that gets to that point will wait for the
other."
"Oh, I understand," said I, "and that's a very good way of doing."
"I s'pose, too," continued Haines, "that as long's we're together all
the observations for latitude and longitude will be made on board the
Washington, as we're not near so short-handed as the Warwick is. Our
captain or first mate will take the sun every day and work up all the
figuring, and then we'll signal the result over to the Warwick. The
second mate's a good sailor and understands navigation, but it takes
time to do all these things, and he hasn't any to spare. If he gets
blown out of sight of us, why, then he'll have to work up his own
position, but he needn't do so as long as we're in company."
CHAPTER VI.
IN DANGER FROM A WATERSPOUT.--CAUGHT IN A GALE.--SEPARATED FROM OUR
CONSORT.--A GHOST ON THE WASHINGTON!
At daylight the next morning the Warwick was about four miles ahead and
a little to the south of the Washington. The night had been clear with
a steady wind blowing, and each ship had laid its course perfectly.
The Warwick shortened sail a little, so that about noon we came up to
within hailing distance of the Warwick. Our first mate, Mr. Stevens,
hailed, and asked how things were going.
"All right, sir," was the reply. "Everything all right on board, and
Warwick's people getting 'on comfortably. Don't think any more of 'em
will die."
Then we gave them latitude and longitude, and after that the ships
steered away from each other and sailed along about a mile apart.
It was partly a feeling of humanity and partly a practical desire for
making money for himself and owners that prompted our captain to reduce
his own crew in order to save the Warwick and the people on board of
her. The Warwick's cargo was a valuable one, and the ship was also
worth quite a handsome amount of money, as she was only three years
old, substantially built, and well rigged throughout. The salvage on
her would be very large, at least so Bill Haines said, probably sixty
or seventy per cent, and that would be distributed among the owners of
the Washington, her captain, and the salvage crew that went on board
the Warwick. I asked Haines if those who stayed behind on the Warwick
would get anything, and he said he believed not. I intimated that it
was hardly fair to leave us out, as we had to perform, in addition to
our own duties, all the work that would have been done by those who had
left us.
"You'll find out, sonny, as you go along in life," said Haines, "that
it isn't all fair sailing and fair play. Them that does the least work
gets the highest pay. They couldn't sail a ship at all without sailors
before the mast; a ship has got to have a crew anyway, but they don't
pay the crew nothing like what they pays the captain and mates."
I accepted Bill's logic at the time, and thought that the men before
the mast were unjustly treated. Since I became mate and captain I see
things in a different light, and that the officers get higher wages
than the crew because they deserve them. I might have told Bill at the
time that a ship could not sail without officers any more than she
could sail without a crew; but you never think of these smart answers
until after it is too late to give them.
We continued on our course, keeping a sharp lookout for our former
acquaintance, the British man-of-war, and for any other of her kind
that might be floating about the ocean. At that time Great Britain had
nearly a thousand ships-of-war of various kinds, large and small, and
kept them in pretty active service. You never knew when or where you
were likely to run against one of them; whenever you did meet one there
was a chance that she would take some of your men in the manner already
described. So it was the American policy to keep out of their reach, if
possible, and we could generally distinguish them from other ships, as
already explained, by their neat and trim appearance as compared with
merchantmen.
It was four or five days after we met the Warwick that the man at the
mast-head gave a call that put a new sensation in our veins. We had
become a little listless in our work, as the routine was exactly the
same from day to day, and from watch to watch, and though we were in
considerable dread as to what might be coming, the thrill of excitement
was by no means unwelcome.
A south-easterly breeze was blowing, and the skies above us were very
dark, in fact, they grew so dark as to make the broad midday that it
was seem like twilight, and though the Warwick was only two or three
miles away from us we couldn't make her out. The man at the mast-head
said it looked as if a squall was coming, and the captain paced the
quarter-deck in a very uneasy mood.
Suddenly and noiselessly a strange apparition descended out of the
blackness of the heavens! It looked to me as though a portion of a
cloud was descending toward the water. When it came down to within
fifteen or twenty feet of the sea the waters beneath it began to boil
and twist and foam. It was not more than a third of a mile away from
the ship, and the worst thing about it was that it came directly
towards us. It resembled an inverted cone touching the surface of the
ocean, and the water seemed to rise up to meet it.
My friend Haines was up aloft helping to take in the mainsail, so that
I could not ask him what the strange apparition was. By and by he came
down and around to where I stood, and as he reached me he remarked,--
"That's a dangerous thing, Jack! More dangerous than a British
man-of-war!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"That's a waterspout," he replied, "and a big one too. I never saw
one quite as large as that, nor as white. They're most of 'em black,
sometimes blacker even than the sky above is now, but this one, you
see, is a good deal whiter. If it ever hits us we're gone to the
bottom!"
"How does that happen?" I asked. "Does it let down a great lot of water
on the ship?"
"Yes, that's just what it does! It lets down water enough to drown a
ship and sink her out of sight. It's just as if you should empty a
whole barrel of water over one of the toy boats you used to make when
you were a small boy."
Nearer and nearer came the waterspout toward us. The captain went below
and brought out a musket, a weapon that had done duty in Revolutionary
times.
"What's he got that for?" I asked; "I hope he isn't going to shoot
anybody."
"No," said Haines, "he won't shoot anybody on board the ship; what he's
after is to shoot the waterspout if it comes too near."
"What good will that do?"
"If you shoot into a waterspout," replied Haines, "it will break up
and tumble into the sea, provided you are lucky enough to hit it right
in the center and before it gets too near the ship. I've seen that
done two or three times. Some sailors declare it's no use, but I know
better, and every ship I go to sea on I hope will have a gun to shoot
waterspouts with."
According to my reckoning the dreaded column came within two hundred
yards of the Washington; then it seemed to stop and move away toward
the southward, where it disappeared. Whether it broke up or continued
to hold together I don't know, but just as it went out of sight in the
clouds there was a squall struck us, and danced the Washington around
pretty lively. As we had made everything snug when the squall was first
reported, it did no particular harm, but I noticed that it whitened
several of the faces of the men standing around me.
Haines told me that it used to be believed that the waterspouts in the
Atlantic Ocean were really dragons or great serpents in the air. Some
thought that the waterspout was a terrible animal living in the bottom
of the sea, and some declared them to be black serpents passing from
the desert into the sea, and living five hundred years. One of the old
writers, in a book I've seen since I've quit the sea-faring life, says
that in the Gulf of Salato every month in the year a great black dragon
is seen to come from the clouds and put its head into the water. Its
tail seems as though it were fixed in the sky, and this dragon drinks
so greedily that it swallows any ships that may come in the water,
along with their crews and cargo, be they ever so heavy.
It used to be the custom on French and Spanish ships, when waterspouts
appeared, for the sailors to hold a religious service, raising their
swords and holding them against each other in the shape of a cross.
It was claimed that this would cause the dragon to flee, as he is an
infidel, and always takes flight when he sees the Christian cross.
One old writer, Thevenot, says he was an eye-witness of just such
a scene when the mariners drove away a waterspout in the manner
described. In another instance one of the ship's company knelt down
by the mainmast, held in his hand a knife with a black handle, and
read the Gospel according to St. John. When he came to the words, "Et
verbum carne factum est et habitant in nobis" (And the Word was made
flesh and dwelt among us), the man turned towards the waterspout, and
with his knife cut the air as if he were cutting the dragon or a demon.
Immediately the water fell with a great noise, and the ship was saved.
Nothing of consequence happened for two days after the adventure with
the waterspout. At the end of the second day a gale sprang up and blew
with such a velocity for twelve or fourteen hours that the safety of
the ship was greatly endangered. All the sails were taken in, with the
exception of the least bit of a rag of a foresail and jib, just enough
to hold the Washington around with her head to the wind. Frequently
the waves broke over her bows and threatened to swamp her. The captain
ordered the man at the wheel to be securely tied, for fear he would be
washed overboard, and everybody on deck at the time took the precaution
to lash himself to something whenever his duties did not require him to
be moving about deck or climbing into the rigging.
It was well that we took this precaution; at any rate, it was well that
I did. Several times the seas were so heavy that I'm sure I should
have been washed overboard if I had not been lashed to the foot of the
mainmast, and held on with all my might to the halliards that were
attached to it. As you already know, it was David's watch below while I
was on deck; when the watches were changed I told him what I had been
doing, and advised him to follow my example.
He did so, and told me afterward that he thought my advice had saved
him from being washed overboard. It was the first real gale of the
voyage, and consequently the first that David and I had ever seen. We
wished ourselves back at home in Pembroke, but wishing did not help the
matter a bit; and we resigned ourselves to whatever fate had in store
for us.
All on board the Washington had a good deal of anxiety concerning the
Warwick, as she was so short-handed in crew. With only one officer and
six men it would be necessary for all of them to be on duty through the
entire night. There was no such thing as standing watch and watch in a
gale like that.
When the morning came we looked anxiously all about the horizon, the
mate going aloft with the captain's glass and sweeping every part of
the ocean as far as he could see. He must have staid up there fully an
hour; every eye was watching him, and every ear listening in the hope
of hearing him call out "Sail ho!" and indicate the direction where the
sail appeared. But he made no call, and descended finally to the deck.
He shook his head as the captain spoke to him, and we all knew just as
well as though he had told us that the Warwick was not in sight.
We had been driven a considerable distance out of our course by the
gale. As the wind abated we put on a little sail, and increased the
quantity at intervals as the wind dropped down. When we had resumed
our course and were moving along at a fair pace I looked to the south
and saw, perhaps eight or ten miles away from us, a solid wall of
what seemed to be land. I was about to say so to the men who were
nearest to me, but checked myself just in time to avoid a display of my
ignorance. Haines was a little distance away from me, near the foot of
the foremast, and so I sidled up to him and asked him to look in the
direction that I indicated. I did not suggest what I thought that bank
was, and left him to enlighten me or not. We seemed to be approaching
the shore with considerable rapidity, and yet we were sailing parallel
to it, and not in its direction.
"That fog-bank will be on us pretty quick," Haines remarked; and then I
knew that what I had supposed to be land was nothing more than fog.
"Get out your knife, Jack," said Haines, "and be ready to slash yer way
through it. That's one of them fogs that's made out 'er pea-soup and
water mixed with a lot of air. When it gets on us you won't be able to
see the length of the ship, and just so long as that fog stays we might
as well be sailing in a wash-tub for all that we can see around us."
I kept my eye on the fog-bank and saw that it neared us rapidly until
it reached us. All around and above the air was clear, and it did not
take much imagination to suppose that a great monster was coming out of
the south to overwhelm us.
In some parts of the world the fog is supposed to be the abode of
spirits, and in former times the fog itself was believed to be a spirit
which had taken that shape. Some of our sailors seemed to have a
particular dread of the fog, not so much for its disagreeable nature
and the possibility of having a collision with another ship while
shut up in the fog-bank, but an uncanny feeling growing out of their
superstitions. I didn't have any superstitious fear at all concerning
it, but it certainly gave me a very uncomfortable sensation when I saw
it coming.
Well, when that fog arrived, it seemed as though it would swamp us.
Actually, you couldn't see from one end of the ship to the other, and
if there had been a thousand ships close around us we couldn't have
seen one of them until we ran into her or got near enough to be in
danger. In a little while the sails and rigging were wet as though
there had been a heavy shower, and the water dripped from them in all
directions. There was no need of washing the deck when the mist had
been on us for an hour or more, as the fog drenched it and the rolling
of the ship caused the water to pass out through the scuppers. My
clothes were wet through, as though I had been overboard without taking
them off, and it seemed to me that I was breathing a mixture of air and
water in about equal proportions, and ran the risk of being drowned in
consequence.
The fog remained with us the greater part of the day, not blowing away
until nearly nightfall. It went as suddenly as it came, and we were all
glad to see it disappear.
When the fog had gone away Mr. Stevens went aloft again with the
captain's telescope, but with the same result as before; the Warwick
was nowhere to be seen.
We settled down to another night of anxiety concerning our companion
ship, and our talk on the subject showed that our fears for the safety
of our consort had been greatly increased in the past twenty-four
hours. Some of the men felt entirely sure that the Warwick was lost,
others had grave doubts, and others again were quite hopeful of her
safety. Among those in the last category was my friend Haines, and he
demonstrated the reason for his belief by setting forth his faith in
Mr. Johnson and the men who accompanied him.
"Johnson has the nerve of a thunderbolt," said Haines, "and he's got
the wearing qualities of a piece of steel. The men as went with him
were among the best on the ship, all good, able-bodied seamen, and the
kind of men you want to stick to when you know 'em. Johnson knew just
what to do with the ship when the gale came on, and you can bet he did
it. We'll see if the Warwick don't turn up at the point where we was to
meet her in case we got blowed apart."
The night passed quietly and the next day came on bright and beautiful.
We had a good eight-knot breeze on our starboard quarter and
everything spread that would draw. After the sun was well up, the mate
climbed again into the rigging and scanned the horizon all around in
search of the Warwick. She wasn't to be seen anywhere; again the spirit
of gloom passed over the ship's company, and the question that rose
most prominently in every mind was, "Shall we ever see the Warwick
again?"
A rumor went about that a ghost had been seen on board the ship during
the night. With each repetition the story increased, until finally it
included Mr. Johnson, our second mate, and all the men who were with
him, their specters having been seen in solemn procession by the man at
the wheel just before the watch was changed at midnight.
It was two or three hours before the report reached the captain's
ears; and I may remark that very often on shipboard a story may be
circulating for days and weeks among the men of the crew, and the
captain know nothing about it. As soon as Captain Dawson--I believe
I haven't told you before the name of our commander--heard about the
ghost, he proceeded to take active measures concerning him. All hands
were called; the men were ordered to stand up in line, and then the
captain began at one end of it and questioned each man successively.
"Did you see any ghost last night?" he said to the first.
"No, sir, I did not," was the laconic reply.
"Did you see any ghost last night?" Captain Dawson asked, addressing
the second man.
"No, sir, I did not."
In this way he questioned each man until he came to the ninth or tenth,
I forget which, one of the two men whom the British officer was about
to take away at the time we were intercepted, as I have told in a
previous chapter. When the question was asked, the man raised his hand
to his head in form of a salute, and replied,--
"I don't know, sir, but I thought I did."
"Well, tell me what it was that you thought you saw."
CHAPTER VII.
THE GHOSTS AND HOW THEY WERE LAID.--ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST.--THE
WARWICK AGAIN.--ENCOUNTERING AN ALGERIAN PIRATE.
"Well, sir," replied the sailor, "I was standing near the mainmast
about a quarter of an hour or so after eight bells (midnight), in the
larboard watch. I was looking for'ard at the time, and saw something
white, in the shape of a man, come in over the weather-side of the
ship, just abaft of the foremast, and then there was another, and
another. I was that frightened I can't say how many of them there was,
but there was more'n two or three of 'em, sir. They was in the shape
of men, and they just went along without stopping to look at anybody.
Seemed to me it must be the Warwick had gone to the bottom and they'd
come to tell us about it."
"If they'd come to tell us about it," said the captain, "why didn't
they stop and do so?"
"Oh, ghosts never stop to talk with nobody," said the sailor;
"leastways, I never knew a ghost what did."
"You seem to be familiar with them by the way you talk," said Captain
Dawson.
"Well, yes, sir; I hain't seen many ghosts myself, sir, but a good many
of my friends has seen lots of 'em, and has told me all about 'em."
"You haven't seen any ghosts on this ship before, have you?" the
captain asked.
"No, sir, I hain't seen no ghost before last night, and I'm not
altogether sure that they was the ghosts of Mr. Johnson and the
sailors; but that's what I thought."
"Well," said the captain after a pause, "we'll let you and your ghosts
go this time; if you saw anything at all it was nothing but scuds of
mist or fog blowing across the ship. If any ghost comes here again the
man that sees him will get twenty lashes of a rope's end, and I want
all you men to bear this in mind. I don't have any ghosts about the
ship I command; they're no friends of mine, and I want 'em to stay
away. Now, remember, men--twenty lashes to anybody who sees a ghost on
the Washington."
With that the crew were dismissed, those who had the watch on deck went
to their duty, and the rest below, or anywhere else they pleased.
You may be sure that there wasn't another ghost seen on the Washington
during the rest of the voyage, or, if any man saw one, he kept the
knowledge of the sight to himself. Twenty lashes of a rope's end is not
an agreeable offset to a vision of something unearthly.
But I want to say right here that most sailors believe in ghosts
and can tell of good things that they've done as well as bad ones.
There was a ghost seen by Captain Rogers, of the Royal Navy, in 1664.
He commanded the ship Society that was on a voyage from England to
Virginia; he was headed in for the Capes, and reckoned that he was
about three hundred miles from them. A ghost came to him in the night
and told him to turn out and look about. He turned out, looked around,
found everything quiet, and all the watch alert, and so he turned in
again.
He hadn't been long in his bed when the ghost came again and told him
to heave the lead. He got up at once and cast the lead, and found he
was in only seven fathoms of water. He tacked ship in a hurry, and when
daylight came found he was right under the Capes instead of being far
out at sea as he supposed.
When I had a chance to speak to Haines alone I asked him what he knew
about ghosts. He rather evaded the question, by saying he had never
seen one himself, but he'd been on ships where they were, and had known
lots of sailors who had seen them.
"I was on a ship once," said he, "where they not only saw a ghost but
smelled him. For two or three nights he was seen several times, always
in a certain spot in the ship, and he left a smell which was there all
the time, whether the ghost was or not."
"Do you think it was really a ghost?" I asked.
"Our captain didn't believe it; anyway, he ordered a search made in the
place where the ghost was, and after overhauling a lot of stuff they
found a dead rat there. 'Twas the rat that caused the ghostly smell,
and probably the imagination of the sailors did the rest. The man who
first smelled the ghost got ten lashes for not reporting it right away.
"The biggest lot of ghosts I ever heard of in one crowd was down
in the West Indies. The story was that Admiral Hosier had asked
permission to attack Porto Bello and the request was denied. A few
years later, Admiral Hosier was removed from command, went home, and
died. Afterwards Porto Bello was assaulted and captured, and after the
capture, the commander of the fleet which had taken the place saw the
ghost of the admiral, and with it the ghosts of all his crews, and the
phantoms of all his ships. 'Twas the biggest turnout of ghosts I ever
heard of."
"Yes, indeed it was," I answered; "I wonder if those ghosts took any
part in the fighting at the capture of Porto Bello."
"I don't know that they did," said Haines; "but I've heard of ghosts
what went into battle and helped their friends very much, not by
handling the weapons, but by scaring the people on the other side.
"Well, here's a story of a ghost I know all about," said Haines; "a
ship I sailed in once had a ghost that first appeared to the mate. That
is to say, the mate heard somebody groaning in an empty cabin, and went
up on deck in a hurry. One night some of the men in the forecastle
in their watch below saw a ghost, and they all agreed as to the
description of it. Two or three times a ghost was seen in the rigging,
and one night the captain happened to be on deck and saw him out at
the end of a yard-arm. The captain slipped quietly up the rigging and
caught the ghost."
"Caught him, did he?" said I. "Why, I thought it was impossible to lay
hands on a ghost!"
"Well," said Haines, "that ghost turned out to be a sailor who had
been playing these tricks on his comrades in revenge for something the
captain had done to him in the early part of the voyage."
Our conversation on ghosts was interrupted by the welcome cry of,
"Sail, ho!" in the voice of Mr. Stevens, who had once more gone aloft
to look for the Warwick.
"What do you make her out?" the captain asked.
"She's too far off, sir, for me to tell what she is," the mate replied.
"Where away?" was the captain's next question.
"About four points on the weather bow," was the reply.
Immediately Captain Dawson gave orders for the Washington to be steered
in the direction of the strange sail. It did not take long for us to
ascertain that the stranger was headed pretty nearly as we had been;
this circumstance strengthened the belief that she was the Warwick, and
was heading for the appointed place of meeting. The mate descended to
the deck to assist in the maneuvers necessary for our change of course,
and when this had been accomplished he returned to his post aloft. By
this time he was able to see that the strange vessel looked like the
Warwick; he remained there on watch until satisfied that such was the
case.
When he came down to the deck again we all waited anxiously for his
report to the captain. As he was making it he could not help seeing the
anxiety among the crew, and so he turned to us and said,--
"Boys, I'm pretty sure she's the Warwick! I can't be certain yet for
half an hour or so, but you needn't feel uneasy about your shipmates!"
We gave a ringing cheer at this announcement, and everybody felt far
happier than he was feeling an hour before.
Sure enough she turned out to be the Warwick, and in due time we were
up within hailing distance of her. Mr. Johnson answered in a cheery
tone the hail of Captain Dawson, and said,--
"Everybody's well, and Warwick's people getting on finely! Saw the gale
coming and got everything snug before it struck us!"
He described the experience of the ship and crew in almost the
identical words that I have told about the effects of the gale on
the Washington, and so it isn't necessary to repeat. We gave him our
latitude and longitude, which he had little need of just at that time,
as he had been obliged to work them out for himself.
From this time on we had no incidents of consequence until we got
within a hundred miles of the coast as we headed for the Straits of
Gibraltar. Then we had an incident with some excitement in it.
We were sailing along nicely one morning, about eight bells, when a
sail was discovered dead ahead. The Warwick was off on our weather beam
about two miles, and a little astern. The strange sail was heading
directly for us, and in a little while we made her out to be a Moorish
or Algerine galiot. She was laying her course so straight for us that
our captain felt sure she meant business and would capture us if she
could.
At that time the Algerine corsairs were scouring the Mediterranean and
the portion of the Atlantic just outside the Straits of Gibraltar, and
were ready to capture anything. For hundreds of years they had been
carrying on their piracy, capturing the vessels of every nation of
Europe, confiscating the ships and their cargo, and selling the ship's
crew into slavery. Sometimes the crew were ransomed, if they happened
to have wealthy friends at home, and occasionally their ransoms were
bought by wholesale by the nations to whom they belonged. Now and then
nations made treaties with the pirates, paying them a stipulated sum
each year to let their commerce alone; and payments were partially in
cash and partially in guns, ammunition, naval stores, etc., the kind of
goods that were required to keep up the piratical operations.
When the United States came into existence as a nation and its commerce
was carried to the Mediterranean Sea, the Deys of Algiers, Morocco,
Tunis, and the other states of the Barbary Coast rejoiced to think they
had a new country against which they could press their depredations.
American ships fell into their hands very early in our national
history, and President Washington called the attention of the national
government to these piracies as early as 1790.
In an able report, Secretary Jefferson laid before Congress important
details touching the position of American interests in that part of the
globe. Little could be done, however, as the Americans had no navy,
and the commerce of the United States in the Mediterranean was for a
long time dependent upon the Portuguese fleet for protection. Portugal
was at war with Algiers for several years, and ships of other nations
sought the protection of her flag, and were thereby saved from capture.
Captain Dawson signaled to the Warwick to come within hail, and without
changing their courses materially to do so, the ships were speedily not
more than a hundred yards apart. Before leaving America we had news
that the war between Algiers and Portugal had been brought to an end
through the assistance of Great Britain, with the avowed purpose of
injuring France, with which the last-named country was then at war.
It was not exactly a treaty of peace, but simply a truce for one year;
and in the treaty was introduced the remarkable stipulation that the
Portuguese government should not afford protection to any nation
against Algerine cruisers. The treaty went into effect immediately, and
the result of the agreement was very disastrous to American commerce.
Having heard of the truce just before we sailed, we were on the lookout
for the sea robbers. The state of the case was that the ships of
every nation except those of Great Britain and Portugal were liable
to be captured, and their only safety was in running away, or being
sufficiently strong to resist.
I ought to have mentioned before that the Washington carried
five guns,--two six-pounders on each side of the ship, and one
twelve-pounder on a pivot amidships. The Warwick had the same armament,
but she had the disadvantage, as the reader knows, of being very
short-handed, and the Washington had lost some of the members of her
gun crews by the absence of the men on the other ship. We had been
drilled daily in good weather, so that we felt we could handle our guns
very well. If we could only hold the pirate craft away from boarding us
we had no occasion for worry. They carry a large number of men on these
corsairs, and their plan is to run a ship directly aboard and overwhelm
her by superior force.
Captain Dawson had hoisted the American flag, and the Warwick followed
his example by hoisting the English one, her national color. As soon
as the ships were within hailing distance our captain gave orders to
Mr. Johnson to stand by and help us in case of necessity. "You can't do
much fighting with your crew," said Captain Dawson, "but perhaps you
can put a shot in now and then, if necessary."
"All right, sir" replied Johnson; then he added, "Mate of Warwick says
we have some new-fangled rockets on board for fighting. Hadn't we best
try 'em?"
"Aye, aye, sir, try 'em, of course," said the captain.
Mr. Johnson answered back with a hearty, "Aye, aye, sir," and there
the conversation ended. Meanwhile the strange craft was approaching us
rapidly. Before a great while she was within hailing distance, and a
voice called out in very bad English, "Heave to!"
"Can't do it; we're in a hurry!" replied the captain; and the
Washington followed the example of the moon when the dog barked at
it--it kept right on as though nothing had happened. Then a shot was
fired across her bows by the stranger, whom we now made out to be
an Algerine corsair. We paid no attention to this, and another shot
followed very speedily. It was aimed at our hull, but evidently a poor
marksman handled the gun, as the shot went two or three hundred yards
astern of us.
Captain Dawson now thought it was time to make a response. The gun
crews had been standing by their pieces, and everybody was anxious to
open fire. The captain ordered Mr. Stevens, who had charge of the big
pivot-gun, to "Let go!" and the order was obeyed immediately. The shot
was a lucky one, as it pierced the hull of the galiot and cut away her
foremast below deck. The mast (she had but one) fell with a crash, and
the Algerine boat was completely disabled. We could see that she was
full of men, and if she had once got alongside so as to carry us by
boarding, our chance of escape would have been small.
The Warwick was to the starboard of the Washington and a little astern
at the time this happened. She was edging up to get into a position
where she could deliver a shot at the Algerine craft when opportunity
offered.
Captain Dawson hailed Mr. Johnson on the Warwick and said,--
"Come up and try one of your new-fangled things on these pirates!"
"Aye, aye, sir," was the reply; and then as the Washington forged ahead
a little, the Warwick came up until she was not more than two hundred
yards from the galiot and just astern of her. Her mate understood the
handling of the rockets, which were then a new invention, and under the
care he had received he was able to be about deck and render himself of
much practical use. Since they obtained a supply of provisions the crew
of the Warwick had improved rapidly, and the men had gone on duty at
the suggestion of Mr. Johnson, with the understanding that they could
be let off at any time when they felt too weak to stay on deck. The
most of them were standing their watches regularly, but there were some
who did not go on duty at all during the entire time we were with them.
Two or three of the rockets were brought on deck, and the Warwick's
mate, Mr. Townley, directed how the firing-tube should be placed. I
should explain that these rockets were fired from tubes to which they
were specially fitted, and by which they were directed on their course.
CHAPTER VIII.
A CONGREVE ROCKET AMONG ALGERINE PIRATES.--ARRIVAL AT
GIBRALTAR.--ARRESTED AND IN PRISON.
Two or three minutes elapsed after the order was given, and as all
on board the Washington had heard it, we were anxiously awaiting the
result. Suddenly there was a loud hissing and a swish through the air,
and we saw something which left a trail of smoke behind it taking a
curving course from the Warwick to the Algerine vessel. It was well
aimed, as it went aboard the Algerine just over her stern and seemed to
rake her from one end to the other.
Exactly what those Algerines thought I don't know, and even if I did
know I wouldn't understand it, as I've no knowledge of their language.
We couldn't see that anybody was hurt by the rocket, but everybody
on board that craft must have been badly scared. They yelled and ran
hither and yon, and about twenty of them jumped overboard, thinking
perhaps that if they got drowned in the ocean they might be saved from
death by the terrible missile which had just been thrown upon them.
While they were in a very lively state of excitement another rocket
went on board, and this added to the confusion which was certainly bad
enough before. Captain Dawson signaled to Mr. Johnson to stop firing,
and no more rockets were thrown.
From a remark that the captain made afterwards I think he was sorry
he didn't follow up his advantage and completely destroy the Algerine
corsair. He might have done so, possibly, but on the other hand he
would have received considerable damage from his adversary. My belief
is that he did just right in sailing away and holding his course for
Gibraltar, closely followed by the Warwick.
We had no further trouble after meeting this fellow, though we saw two
or three of his kindred at a distance before we reached the straits. We
learned afterwards that a good many of them were out cruising on the
Atlantic in search of prizes, but they were scattered considerably in
order to cover as much ground as possible. We went through the straits
at a lucky moment it turned out, as there were nearly always two or
three of the corsairs hanging about that region, and rarely going more
than twenty or thirty miles away from the entrance to the Mediterranean.
We steered into Gibraltar in fine style, and anchored in the harbor
which lies in the bay between the town which bears the name of the
rock and the Spanish town of Algeciras. The health officer boarded us
almost immediately as we dropped anchor, the Washington being first
to reach the harbor anchorage. It did not require long for him to
ascertain that we were all well on board and entitled to a clean bill
of health. Our captain told him about the Warwick, and as soon as he
was through with us he went directly on board of what we may call our
prize.
He gave a clean bill of health in the Warwick's case as well as in
our own, and she was fully entitled to it, as there was no disease on
board, the suffering which the crew had undergone having come wholly
from a lack of food.
After the health officer had visited us he went ashore, and it was not
long before the story of the Warwick, the sufferings of the people on
board of her, and her relief by the American ship that came into port
with her, became known in Gibraltar. The captain of the port came off
to visit both ships, a very unusual thing for him to do, and he made
arrangements to take our captain with him to call upon the Governor
of Gibraltar the next day. When the call was made the governor was
very civil to Captain Dawson, and said he had performed an act of
humanity which deserved high recognition when all its circumstances
were considered. He said he should report the circumstances to his
government, and hoped that Captain Dawson and our second mate would
be suitably rewarded. The captain thanked him for his good wishes,
and said he trusted entirely to the generosity of a government whose
maritime power was the greatest in the world.
Then he told about the affair with the Algerine pirate, to which the
governor listened attentively. He laughed heartily over the incident
of the rockets, which were, he said, the invention of Sir William
Congreve, and this was the first time he had known of their use in
actual warfare. He also laughed over Captain Dawson's description of
the consternation created among the piratical crew when the rocket was
let loose among them, and especially when the captain told about the
jumping overboard. He said he should mention this matter in his next
report, as it might prove of great importance to the government.
I may add here for the reader's information that these rockets were
intended to explode and hurl leaden balls and scraps of iron among the
enemy. They were particularly calculated to frighten horses and break
up cavalry operations generally, and when tried in actual warfare
they were nearly as destructive among infantry. They were first
tried successfully in warfare and with fatal effect at the attack on
Copenhagen in 1807.
One great advantage of these rockets is that they make no recoil
against the stand from which they are fired; the largest rocket can
therefore be discharged without danger from the smallest boat, and
consequently, in naval attacks on fortresses and cities, a flotilla of
rocket boats is generally used. The great disadvantage of this missile
is the uncertainty of its course. It was a very lucky circumstance
that we were enabled to throw the two rockets that were sent from the
Warwick directly on board the Algerine; but we were very near her, and
thus had a much better aim than if she had been farther away.
Since I quit the sea and sat down to write this narrative I have read
somewhere that the Duke of Wellington was invited to witness a trial of
the Congreve rocket soon after it was invented and perfected. The duke
was on horseback, surrounded by a large and handsomely uniformed staff;
the group was assembled at the top of a small hill which commanded a
view of the plain where the experiments were to take place.
A few rockets had been let off, and the duke seemed well satisfied
with their performance. Finally one rocket, at its discharge, took an
erratic course, and came directly into the midst of the distinguished
party, where it fizzed and sputtered while darting here and there, and
then, dashing off to one side, exploded. If the explosion had taken
place directly in the group, some of the officers would probably have
been killed or wounded; as it was the horses were frightened, and fully
one-half the party were thrown to the ground and had to walk home,
or wait till their horses were caught and brought to them. From that
moment the Duke of Wellington was never favorable to the use of the
Congreve rocket.
But I am getting away from my story. As the news spread about Gibraltar
of the saving of the Warwick and those whom we found on board of
her, the officers and crew of the Washington became the objects of
considerable attention. Captain Dawson did not neglect to take the
proper steps for obtaining his claim for salvage; he employed a lawyer
of Gibraltar to attend to the matter, and it is proper to say that the
lawyer did his duty faithfully. The claim was considerably reduced
by the court, but nevertheless it was a handsome compensation, and
everybody concerned on our side of the affair felt well rewarded for
his trouble. A special award was made to Mr. Johnson and the six men
who went with him on board the Warwick; this was done, we understood,
at the instance of the Governor of Gibraltar, who seemed rather more
kindly disposed toward us than was usually the case with English
officers toward Americans at that time.
When any of the crew of the Washington obtained liberty to go on shore
they were treated kindly, and very often, too, by the British sailors
and landsmen. One effect of the hospitality of Gibraltar was that those
of our crew who were not abstemious from drink generally returned to
the ship much the worse for their excursion.
One afternoon several of us, including Haines and myself, had
permission to go ashore. It was very hot that day, and we found it
rather fatiguing work to walk about.
About dusk we concluded it was time to go on board again, and went
down to the quay for that purpose. There we fell in with some English
sailors, most of whom had been drinking heavily, and they began to
treat us very uncivilly. Of course we resented, and the result was a
row. It was necessary for the police to interfere; but before they
could do so there was a general fight in which the chances were about
even. I had the misfortune to be knocked down, and so hard was the blow
that I was virtually insensible. The last I remember of the struggle I
was seized by the collar and arms and dragged roughly away.
On coming to my senses I found myself in a guard-house, along with
Haines and two other men from the Washington, with a sentry on duty to
prevent our getting away. Haines had been rubbing my limbs and trying
in other ways to restore me, and was very much delighted when I was
able to speak. He had a swollen face, so that he was able to see out of
but one eye, and that not very well.
One of my first questions was as to what they were going to do with us.
"I'm sure I don't know," said Haines; "I've been pumping the sentry,
and all I can make out is that we've been disorderly, and can't stir
till an officer comes to take charge of us."
We were hungry and thirsty, and asked for water and something to eat.
The sentry called another soldier, who brought us some water, but
said it would take money to buy anything else. We gave the fellow a
shilling, and he went off to return presently with some fruit, which
probably cost him a penny or two, as fruit is very cheap in Gibraltar.
The rest of the money he pocketed, or perhaps divided with our guard,
as we didn't see it again or get anything for it.
It was along in the evening when this happened, and we had to stay
in the guard-house until morning, sleeping on the floor, and using
our jackets for pillows. The next morning we were taken to what I
supposed was the office of the chief of police, or the commandant of
the port, I couldn't make out which. A man in uniform looked at us,
but asked no questions, and in less than five minutes he ordered us
taken on board the receiving-ship in the harbor. This was one of the
king's ships that had been pronounced unseaworthy, and was used as a
storehouse, prison, or anything else that was required of her; she was
especially used to receive sailors till they were drafted off to one of
the war-ships that needed men.
[Illustration: HE BROUGHT HIS GLASS TO BEAR UPON THE OBJECT. Page 141.]
"They're going to take us to serve the king," said Haines; "they want
men, and don't care how they get 'em."
"But the king hasn't anything to do with us," I replied; "we're
Americans, and not his subjects anyhow."
"Avast there, my lad," said Haines, "what do you think the king or his
officers care about that? Don't you remember our little affair in the
early part of the voyage with that British man-of-war?"
"Oh, certainly I do," I replied; "but the officer who came aboard did
not try to take anybody away that he knew was an American."
"Yes, that's true," Haines replied; "and the trouble with him was,
from a British point of view, that he was too particular, and also
that he lost his head over the captain's rum-bottle. Not one officer
in twenty, so far as I've known, would hesitate at taking just as many
men as he wanted, whether they were British born or not. You see, that
officer wasn't right in his head when he got drunk so easily at a time
when he should have stayed sober.
"It looks to me very much," Haines continued, "as though they intended
to impress us in punishment for our disorderly conduct. I presume
that's what they do when Americans come ashore and give any sort of a
reason for being arrested; off they go to the king's receiving-ship,
and whenever wanted they are drafted into one of his Majesty's
men-of-war. But make yourself easy, my lad, we won't have any trouble;
as soon as they find that we belong to the crew of the Washington that
little affair of the Warwick will set everything right."
While he spoke an officer appeared; what he was I don't know, but he
had uniform enough on him for a general or an admiral, at least.
He spoke to the officer in charge of us, and called him to one side.
There was quite an earnest talk between them, but of course we don't
know what it was. Anyhow, it was something in our favor, as we were
taken back to where we spent the night, and our keeper treated us very
civilly after the heavily uniformed officer went away.
He asked if we would like some breakfast, and on our saying we would he
gave an order to one of the soldiers to bring us something to eat. In
less than a quarter of an hour we had a big pan of beef-stew before us,
along with a large loaf of bread, and as much coffee as we wanted to
drink. It was a real good breakfast, and every one of us felt a great
deal better after we had eaten it.
That it was the intention to impress us into the British service I have
not the least doubt, and Haines was correct when he suggested that the
affair of the Warwick would save us. I heard afterward that not a few
American sailors who became drunk and disorderly while on shore at
Gibraltar and other British ports had been sent to jail over night and
to a receiving-ship in the morning. They had no chance of escape, and
in the course of time, and very short at that, found themselves serving
on British ships-of-war.
At the time of which I write no fewer than four thousand impressed
Americans were serving on British ships; that number had been reported
through the consuls and other representatives of the United States
abroad, and it is probable that two or three thousand more were unable
to make their situations known. They were not allowed to send letters
to their friends; and when in port, whether in British ports or
not, they were never allowed ashore, lest they might escape, or at
all events send a communication that would call attention to their
impressment.
We had quite a talk on the subject as we sat and lay around after our
breakfast, waiting to see what would next turn up. Haines predicted
that in less than ten years the United States would have another war
with Great Britain, and it would grow out of this very business of the
impressment of American sailors. It is said that at one time a British
officer who was taking some men from an American vessel remarked to the
captain of it,--
"I wonder that the Americans permit this sort of thing to go on. Great
Britain wouldn't stand it an hour, and I think the same can be said of
every nation on the continent of Europe."
Well, we wouldn't have stood it an hour either if we had had a navy
like that of Great Britain. She had a thousand sail, and we had less
than twenty war-ships, taking all kinds and descriptions together.
"I'll tell you a bit of my experience," said Haines, "in this
impressing business, and you can see just how it is. It's no wonder
that the relations between the United States and Great Britain are what
they are when the sort of thing I'm going to tell you about can go on.
"I was going out to Havana in the brig Julia in the latter part of
1798," said Haines, "and there were several sail of us under convoy of
the twenty-gun sloop-of-war Baltimore. We were in sight of the Moro
Castle, at the entrance of the port of Havana, and a dandy port it
is--room enough for a thousand sail inside, but only one can go in or
out at a time. Captain Phillips of the Baltimore made signal for us
to crowd sail as hard as we could to get into port; it seemed that he
had seen an English squadron away to the windward, and knew they would
capture us if they could, as they were blockading Havana. In fact, they
did take three of us; but the rest got in all right, and among 'em was
the Julia.
"After he had signaled to his convoy, Captain Phillips bore up to speak
to the English commodore, who was in the Carnatic, seventy-four, and
he had four other war-ships with her, one of 'em a big feller with
ninety-eight guns.
"When Captain Phillips got near the Carnatic, the English captain,
his name was Loring, invited the American to go and visit him aboard.
Captain Phillips went, and what do you suppose the Englishman told him
when he got him there?"
"I can't guess, I'm sure. What was it?"
"Why, he said he intended to take out of the Baltimore all the men who
had no American protection papers. Captain Phillips protested, and said
it was an outrage on his nation and flag, and he would surrender his
ship if Captain Loring insisted upon doing as he had threatened. You
see, there were only twenty American guns on the Baltimore against more
than three hundred on the British fleet. Then he went back to his ship,
where he found an English officer mustering his crew."
"What did he do then?"
"He took the muster-roll out of the officer's hand, ordered the officer
to leeward, and sent the men to their quarters. Then he consulted
an American legal gentleman who happened to be on board, and as his
instructions were that on no account should any vessel of any nation
except France be molested, even to prevent the capture of his convoy,
he decided to surrender. He ordered the Baltimore's flag hauled down,
and told the English captain to do what he pleased with the ship. The
Englishman sent on board and took away fifty-five of the Baltimore's
crew, but very soon he returned fifty of them, and said he had a number
of Americans on the Carnatic that he'd be glad to trade for an equal
number of Englishmen."
"Did the American captain make the trade with him?"
"No, he didn't; he waited for the Englishman to send a prize-crew to
take possession of the Baltimore; but evidently the British captain was
afraid of getting into trouble, as he sailed away without another word.
When he had gone Captain Phillips put up the Baltimore's flag again,
and went about his business. And if they'd treat a ship-of-war in that
way, do you suppose they'd have any fine feelings about a merchantman?"
We all assented to his view of the case, and then Haines said we owed
what navy we then had to the Algerine pirates. "If it hadn't been for
them," said he, "we wouldn't have any navy now, I believe."
"Surely the pirates did not present us with any ships-of-war!" I
exclaimed in surprise.
"Oh, no, 'twasn't that way at all. Just cast anchor a bit and I'll tell
you how it was."
CHAPTER IX.
TROUBLE BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND ALGIERS.--THE WAR WITH
FRANCE.--WHAT OUR NAVY DID.--FROM GIBRALTAR TO MARSEILLES.
"The first time our government ran against Algerine pirates," said
Haines, "was in 1785, when they captured two vessels from the United
States, and sold their crews--twenty-one men altogether--into slavery.
The President set about getting these men released just as soon as
he heard of the capture of the ships. The diplomatic agents of the
United States in Europe were instructed to make arrangements in that
direction; but the Dey of Algiers believed that he had found a new mine
of wealth, and demanded an enormous price for the ransom of the unhappy
sailors."
"Did our government pay it?" I asked, as Haines paused.
"No, they did not," was the reply; "they determined that they would
not establish a precedent for such exorbitant demands. In France there
was a religious society called the Mathurins, that was established
hundreds of years ago for the purpose of releasing Christian captives
who were held by the infidels. Our government employed the chief of
the Mathurins to negotiate the liberation of our men, but he didn't
succeed. Several other attempts were made, but the Dey refused to come
down in his price, because he thought the Americans would pay anything
rather than let their citizens be slaves, or, at any rate, their white
citizens, as we had plenty of negro slaves in our country and thought
that kind of slavery was all right.
"Well, the thing dragged along a good while. Our government
appropriated forty thousand dollars to ransom those men. One after
another two commissioners were appointed to negotiate the business, but
each of 'em died before he got to Algiers.
"Before the negotiations for these twenty-one men were concluded, ten
more American ships had been captured, and more than a hundred sailors
sold from them into slavery. It was not till 1795 that we brought the
miserable business to an end, and got the release of the prisoners by
paying eight hundred thousand dollars in cash, with a promise of an
annual tribute of twenty-five thousand dollars, and a ship-of-war worth
one hundred thousand dollars."
"Do you mean that we were to give them a ship-of-war every year?" I
asked.
"Oh, no," replied Haines; "not a ship-of-war every year, but a single
one as soon as we could build her, after giving the eight hundred
thousand dollars down."
"Oh, I understand," I answered. "Why didn't we take that eight hundred
thousand dollars and build ships-of-war with it, and then go and blow
the Algerines sky high?"
"That's what we ought to have done," said Haines, "and it's a big shame
we didn't do it. What we did every other nation of Europe had been
doing, and some of them for hundreds of years. It is like paying a
chicken thief five dollars a month to let alone robbing your hen-roost."
"Well, if we've been paying twenty-five thousand dollars a year to the
Dey of Algiers to let us alone, how is it that he is capturing our
ships now?"
"We were not very prompt in making our payments, I believe," Haines
answered; "and besides, them pagans don't pay any attention to their
treaties. They make an agreement that is to last five or ten years, and
get a certain amount of money; but when they've used that money up and
want more they go to capturing our ships again, and simply tell us that
they are out of money and must raise it somehow.
"I'm getting off the track a little," said Haines, after a pause, "as
I promised to tell you how we owe our present navy to the Algerine
pirates. The capture of our ships was a very bad blow to American
commerce, as it drove the American flag out of the Mediterranean, and
limited our trade altogether to the West Indies. Matters had come to a
very bad state. Mr. Humphreys was appointed Commissioner for the United
States in 1793, to negotiate with the Dey of Algiers. He was treated
with great contempt by that chief of pirates, and what do you suppose
the beggar said when he talked with the American about the business?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," was the reply of all of us.
"Well, he said, 'If I were to make peace with everybody what should I
do with my corsairs? They would take off my head for the want of other
prizes, not being able to live on their miserable allowance.'
"Mr. Humphreys did not waste any time in writing to President
Washington and telling him what the barbarian scoundrel said, and he
added this comment at the end of his letter. 'If we mean to have a
commerce we must have a navy to defend it.'
"Well, the President in his next message to Congress suggested that
we must have a navy, and he gave his reasons for the suggestion.
I disremember 'em exactly; but the substance of 'em was that the
United States would never have any rank among nations if she had the
reputation of weakness. We would be sure to be insulted if we hadn't
the strength to hit back, and the only way we could have peace was to
let everybody know we were always ready to fight.
"Congress took the words of the President in good part," Haines
continued, "and passed a bill authorizing the building of six frigates,
four of them forty-four gunners, and the two thirty-six gunners; and
that's the way we owe our navy to the Algerine pirates. Would you
believe it, there were a good many members of Congress who opposed
building the navy, and thought it would be better and cheaper to make
a trade with the Dey of Algiers by paying him ransom and tribute money
instead of spending our money on ships. They made a clause in the bill
appropriating a million dollars toward buying a peace with the Dey, and
in case they did so, the building of the ships was to be stopped.
"And that's just what happened. In 1795 we made a treaty of peace with
this sea-robber which cost the government a million of dollars, as I've
already told you about. They stopped work on the ships, but they were
pretty well along by that time; and when, in 1797, we got into trouble
with France and things looked very squally, it didn't take a great
while to finish the ships and get them ready for sea."
"How did the trouble with France come about? Please tell me."
"As near as I can remember," said Haines, "this was the way of it,--
"France and England were at war, and the French government took offense
at a treaty we had made with Great Britain. They issued a secret order
authorizing French ships-of-war to capture neutral ships in the West
Indies, if they were found carrying supplies to British ports. The
French cruisers, under this authority, began to seize American ships,
and treated their crews with great cruelty. We had felt very friendly
to the French down to that time, owing to the way they helped us
during the Revolution, but they acted so badly that we didn't feel so
well afterward. Next they issued a decree which almost amounted to a
declaration of war, and I don't believe you can guess what it was."
"I have read somewhere," I said, "that the French not only authorized
the capture of American ships trading between the United States and
Great Britain and its colonies, but declared further that any American
found on board of a hostile ship, though placed there without his
consent by impressment, should be hanged as a pirate! Wasn't that it?"
"Yes, it was," said Haines; "just think of it! British ships were
constantly impressing American seamen. Suppose an English war-ship
with impressed Americans on board should be captured by a French
cruiser; those Americans were liable to be hanged as pirates! Did you
ever hear of anything so outrageous?"
"Certainly I never did," I answered; "it's difficult to believe that
such an order was possible. Did the United States declare war against
France after that?"
"They didn't do it in the regular form of a declaration," said Haines;
"but they sent out war-ships as fast as they could get them ready,
with orders to capture French ships, and at the same time they passed
a law for raising a land-force to defend our seaports. A good many
French privateers were fitted out to capture American ships, and
American privateers to capture French ships. As fast as we could get
our war-ships ready we sent them out, and the fighting very soon became
lively. The frigates United States, Constitution, and Constellation
were the first to get to sea, and the Constellation captured a French
cruiser a few days after she sailed. She was the first vessel captured
in the war, and, in fact, the first ever captured by the navy of the
United States.
"There's a funny thing about that cruiser," continued Haines, and I
listened attentively to hear what he was saying; "she was called Le
Croyable, that's what I think it was, and carried fourteen guns; she
was taken into port, where she was condemned by a prize-court, and
added to the United States navy. They named her the Retaliation, and
sent her out with two other small ships to cruise in the West Indies.
"One day they sighted two ships that they thought were British, and
sailed up within shooting distance. They discovered their mistake when
it was too late; what they had thought to be English ships turned
out to be Frenchmen, and big ones too. The French ships captured the
Retaliation, and the other two started to sail away. One of the big
French ships started after them, and she was one of the fastest sailers
in the world.
"Captain Bainbridge of the Retaliation had been taken on board the
other French ship as a prisoner. When he got there the French captain
asked him the strength of the two ships that were running away.
He promptly answered, 'Twenty-eight twelve-pounders, and twenty
nine-pounders,' which was more than double what their armament really
was. The French captain immediately signaled to the other Frenchman to
give up the chase and come back. As the one who signaled was the senior
officer the other one was obliged to obey his orders, which he did very
reluctantly, as he had got near enough to the American ships to see
that they were very much inferior to him, and he was pretty certain to
capture them."
"Didn't they punish Captain Bainbridge for telling such a falsehood?" I
asked.
"No, not at all," said Haines; "you know the old saying, 'All's fair
in love and war;' they used a few hard words about him, and then the
French captain complimented him on the success of his deception and
asked him to take a glass of wine. The trick was by no means a new one,
either on sea or on land.
"There was another hard-fought battle in February, 1800," continued
Haines, "between Commodore Truxton's ship, the Constellation,
thirty-eight guns, and a French ship called the Vengeance, of
fifty-two guns. It began at eight o'clock in the evening and lasted
till one in the morning. The ships sailed along side by side all that
time, and kept firing broadsides into each other. The rigging of the
Constellation was so cut away that her mainmast fell overboard, and
just before that happened the French ship sheered off and disappeared
in the darkness. The Constellation had fourteen men killed and
twenty-five wounded, while the Vengeance had fifty killed and one
hundred and ten wounded. Her captain said that he had lowered his flag
twice during the engagement, endeavoring to surrender, but the American
hadn't discovered it."
Haines further told me that from the beginning to the end of the
war about fifty ships, large and small, were captured by American
privateers. The frigates and other war-ships made a good many captures;
and, on the other hand, the French ships took a considerable number of
American craft.
Just as he told me this, there was a commotion outside of the room
where we were, and the same officer whom I have mentioned as wearing
so much uniform appeared at our door, accompanying the keeper of the
jail. The keeper unlocked the door, and opened it, and then we were
called into the corridor of our prison. The officer questioned us as
to whether we belonged to the crew of the Washington, and we promptly
answered that we did.
"You'd better go back to your ship at once," said he; "and if you come
ashore again try to behave yourselves. If you get into trouble here a
second time you may not get off so easily. That's all; you can go now."
We didn't stop to thank him; and, in fact, we could hardly have done
so had we thought of it, as he turned on his heel and walked away the
instant he pronounced the last word of his little speech that I have
quoted. We were only too willing to go back to the ship, and hurried to
the landing place as fast as we could go.
We gave a boatman a shilling to take us to the Washington, and you
can believe we scrambled up the side in a hurry. We reported to the
mate, who was on duty at the time, and he gave us a sharp ratting for
over-staying our liberty on shore. I endeavored to explain matters,
that our liberty had been mostly passed in jail, at which he smiled and
ordered us to go below.
Captain Dawson was ashore at the time we got back, and didn't return
for several hours. Soon after he came back he sent for Haines to come
aft and tell the story of our experience. None of the rest of us were
sent for, and we were somewhat solicitous as to the treatment Haines
would receive. The captain heard his story; and when Haines explained
that we had been set upon and provoked by the English sailors with whom
we got into the fight, and also that we had done our full share of
the knocking down before we were arrested, the captain appeared quite
satisfied, and did not make any reproof of us for over-staying our
liberty. He did say, however, that he thought it would be well for us
to heed the advice of the British officer--and not go on shore again.
Then he told Haines to "go forward," and we heard nothing more about
the matter.
We remained four or five days at Gibraltar, taking in water and
fresh provisions, repairing a few damages resulting from the gale I
have told about, and also disposing of a part of our cargo to good
advantage. There were no docks where we could lie, and our cargo was
unloaded into lighters which came alongside. Two or three times we
got into wordy altercations with the lighter men; and if order hadn't
been maintained by the captains of the lighters and our own officers,
I think we might have indulged in some hand-to-hand fighting. The men
on the lighters were mostly English, and as we were all Americans you
can readily understand that it would have been quite easy to provoke
a fight. After all our arrangements had been completed, I supposed
we would sail away at once; but to the surprise of all the crew we
continued to lie at our anchorage. The captain didn't choose to tell us
why we were delaying; and, of course, we couldn't ask him.
We lay there the next day and the next, and then the reason for our
delay became apparent. An English cruiser got up sail and proceeded out
of the harbor. When she began operations for leaving port, we followed
her example, and left our anchorage not many minutes after she had
left hers. As she reached the end of the peninsula she turned to the
eastward, and we followed her example. It then became plain to all of
us that we were sailing in her company, and she would protect us from
any further attack by the Algerines.
England was then at peace with Algiers, having made a truce with the
Dey, the real object being to concentrate the attacks of the pirates
upon the French, and also to break up American commerce in the
Mediterranean. The Dey had ordered his people not to plunder any ship
bearing the English flag. I've no doubt it caused them many a pang in
their hearts to see a large and apparently valuable ship sailing by,
and they forbidden by the orders of their ruler to capture it.
We were headed for Marseilles; and for a considerable part of the way
the coast of Spain and of southern France was in sight. We saw two or
three corsairs from the Barbary coast. Whenever they were sighted the
British war-ship slackened her speed, so that we easily closed in upon
her, and were literally under her protection. The maritime force of
Algiers at that time consisted of four frigates with an aggregate of
one hundred twenty-four guns, one polacca with eighteen guns, one brig
of twenty, four xebecs with an aggregate of one hundred sixty-eight
guns, three _galliotas_ or galiots with four guns each, and sixty
gunboats. The vessels were all manned at the rate of twelve men for
each gun. Tunis had at the same time twenty-two corsairs, mounting from
four to twenty-two guns each. So, you see, those Barbary coast pirates
had a large fleet of ships; and, bear in mind, I've not included the
fleets of Morocco and Tripoli, which were equal to about half of the
combined force of Algiers and Tunis.
I ought to explain, perhaps, that a polacca is a vessel with three
short masts, without tops, caps, or cross-trees to the upper yards. A
xebec is a small three-masted vessel used in the Mediterranean; and
a galliota is a vessel with one mast, and has from sixteen to twenty
seats for rowers. This sort of vessel is very useful for piratical
purposes, as it can be propelled at a fair speed by means of oars when
the weather is calm, which is impossible with a ship of the ordinary
build of England or the United States. As the piratical craft always
carry plenty of men they can use the oars to great advantage.
We got to Marseilles without trouble, though our convoy left us when
we were just within sight of land. It was fortunate that we did not
encounter a French fleet while on the way from Gibraltar to Marseilles,
else we might have lost our convoy and been left to take care of
ourselves.
Ordinarily, when either the French or the English ships ventured out
of port at that time they went in fleets of considerable size, for the
double purpose of offense and defense. Several ships together could
make themselves reasonably sure of capturing any straggling vessel
of the enemy; and in case of attack by an enemy's fleet they might
possibly cut some of the ships off singly, even though the enemy's
fleet was stronger than their own number. I presume it was in order to
avoid drawing an attack from the French that our British convoy turned
away at the time he did. Moreover, there was little chance that the
Algerine corsairs would venture very near the French coast for fear of
capture, and therefore we were fairly safe.
We sold our cargo to good advantage at Marseilles, and very quickly
obtained a return one. As soon as we could make ready after our cargo
was completed, we hauled out of Marseilles and headed for the Straits
of Gibraltar.
CHAPTER X.
ESCORTED BEYOND DANGER.--DAILY WORK ON SHIPBOARD.--WE SAVE A
BOATFULL OF CASTAWAYS.--HOW WE FOUND THEM.
"We're in for it now," said the captain, "and must take our chances.
We'll hug the Spanish coast pretty closely, and if they press us hard
we may have to take refuge in some of the ports of Spain. It's lucky
for us, there's a fairly good number of them,--Barcelona, Valencia,
Alicante, Cartagena, Malaga, and several others. We will stop at
Gibraltar, and perhaps we may find a British man-of-war sailing out of
that port by the time we're ready to start."
Fortunately for us we didn't see a single corsair from the time we
passed the Chateau d'If until we sighted the Rock of Gibraltar. Just
as we came in sight of the famous rock we saw a vessel coming into the
straits which had a piratical look. She steered in our direction; and
we steered for safety to the spot where we had formerly anchored. We
turned around Europa Point, where the Rock of Gibraltar juts into the
Mediterranean, with the pirate ship not more than half a mile away
from us. She had tried her best to cut us off, and would have done so
if she had had fifteen minutes more to her advantage. Another vessel
was in sight at a distance; and if we had attempted to run out of the
straits without stopping at Gibraltar, we should have dropped directly
into her jaws. Anyway, between the two of them there was little chance
for our escape.
We were not as cordially received this time at Gibraltar as on our
first arrival. The enthusiasm over the rescue of the Warwick and her
people had somewhat abated; but this is in accordance with human
nature generally, and we were not at all surprised at it. Under the
circumstances, Captain Dawson decided to give liberty on shore to
nobody, and to shorten the stay of the Washington in port as much as
possible. He ascertained that an English frigate would sail for London
in two or three days, and asked the privilege of following in her wake.
The privilege was granted; and he was told to be in readiness for the
signal to depart.
Early on the morning of the third day the signal for departure was
hoisted on the British man-of-war. We hove anchor at once; and as there
was a favoring wind we sailed out of the Bay of Gibraltar, and after
passing Europa Point backed our sails, and waited for the Englishman.
He took his own time for starting, and we lay there hove-to for an hour
or more. Meantime, our captain had his eye on two vessels away out
in the straits that looked very much like Algerines. Their movements
indicated that they were "laying for" us. They probably expected,
and certainly hoped, that we were going to sail through the straits
unaccompanied by any escort, as there was no American war-ship at
Gibraltar to give us any attention.
When the Algerine captains saw the English man-of-war coming out and
heading for the straits, the Washington following close behind, they
knew that their chances for business were decidedly interfered with
for that day at least. The Englishman steered straight out into the
Atlantic, not turning up the coast in the direction of Cadiz as we
feared he might. Whether he did it out of courtesy to us, or merely to
give himself a wide offing, I am unable to say; but we were all very
glad he did so. The corsairs steered away to the south in the direction
of the coast of Morocco; and the last we saw of them they sank beneath
the horizon beyond Cape Spartel.
We sailed all day in the company of the British man-of-war,--I think
her name was Grampus, but am not sure,--and when sunset came the coast
was almost out of sight in the distance. Two or three merchant ships
flying the English flag were in sight, or had been during the day. They
were in no danger from the pirates, and of course could sail wherever
they liked. At sundown our escort dipped his flag by way of saying
farewell, and we dipped ours in return.
We gave some extra dips, like taking off our hats two or three times
in succession, in order to thank him for his courtesy; and a great
courtesy it was, in view of the strained relations existing at that
time between our respective countries. I wondered, as I looked at the
graceful figure of the Grampus dancing on the water, whether there were
any impressed Americans serving on board of her, and perhaps looking
over the rail in our direction, wishing, oh, so earnestly, that they
were on board the Washington, under their own dear flag, and sailing
for home.
Again and again we thanked our lucky stars that we relieved the crew
of the Warwick as we did, and brought her safe to port. Our captain
said, or at least Haines declared that he said it, "Charity is one of
the noblest acts of which man is capable; and the best charity of all
is that which receives a double reward, a high rate of salvage and
protection against sea-robbers."
The Grampus and Washington steered on the same course for the greater
part of the night; we could see her lights ahead of us, and noted that
the distance steadily increased as the hours wore on. She had evidently
cracked on all sail after bidding us good-by, having previously kept
her canvas somewhat reduced in order to enable us to keep up to her.
About four bells in the morning watch she turned to the northward; and
at sunrise we had drawn so far apart that her hull had sunk below the
horizon. By this time we were out of the area covered by the Algerine
corsairs, and had nothing further to fear from them.
We had a favoring wind for several days, and took a straight course for
home. Nothing worthy of note occurred for five or six days; and had it
not been for a great deal of cleaning up and general overhauling of
the ship we might have had an easy time of it. The captain was anxious
to have his craft appear in as nice a condition as possible when it
entered port and passed under the eyes of the owners. The common notion
with landsmen is that when a ship leaves port on a long voyage she is
in her finest condition, and comes home very much battered and bruised,
and used up generally.
Now, the real fact is that unless she has some accident, or happens to
come home in the dead of winter when it is impossible to do any work,
she is in better condition when she reaches home than at any other
time. When she sails from port her decks and sides are black and dirty
from taking in cargo, her standing rigging is generally slack, there
are loose ends hanging everywhere, and, as a sailor would express it,
"everything is adrift."
The longer the voyage is the better is the appearance of the ship,
provided she has fine weather for the last month or so of it. The
best-looking vessels I've ever seen were those that had come round Cape
Horn or Cape of Good Hope on their return from the other side of the
world.
The captain kept us busy setting up and tarring all our standing
rigging, setting the masts, ratting down or up the lower and topmast
rigging, scraping the ship inside and out, decks, masts, and booms, and
pounding the rust off the chains, bolts, and fastenings. The whole ship
was gone over, inside and out, during our voyage. The work began the
second day out from Gibraltar, and was continued almost all the time
until we got back to Boston again.
On the tenth day after passing the straits the watch on deck was busy
with the work of touching up the ship. I was aloft, tarring down the
standing rigging near the foremast, and my position was higher up than
that of any other man of the crew. I happened to look off toward the
leeward and thought I saw a speck on the water; I looked again and felt
sure there was a boat or something of the sort. But it was a speck, and
nothing more.
I hesitated a moment as to what I should say or do; I concluded it best
to call one of the officers and let him decide. So I shouted,--
"On deck there!"
"Aye, aye, there; what is it?" came to me in the voice of the first
mate.
"There's something in sight away to leeward!" I answered. "I don't know
what it is."
"Aye, aye," was the reply; "go on with your work."
The captain was in the cabin at the time, and the mate informed him of
my report.
Immediately Captain Dawson came on deck with his glass, mounted into
the foretop, and asked me where away was my discovery.
I indicated the direction, and he brought his glass to bear upon the
object. He must have looked at it for nearly ten minutes, certainly for
five; then, without saying a word, he descended to the deck and spoke
to Mr. Stevens.
A moment later the mate shouted for all who were aloft to come down;
and as soon as we reached the deck the Washington's course was changed
to the direction of the little speck I had seen.
Not a word was said by the captain and mate to any of the crew as to
the cause of the change of course. I told Haines and several others
what I had seen, and that I thought we were about to take up a boat
from a wrecked ship.
In a little while the speck became clearly visible from the deck;
and as we approached it, we who had no telescopes could clearly make
out that it was a boat with a rude substitute for a sail spread in
the bows. We ran free, and overhauled it in a short time; and as we
approached it we could see a white cloth waved in the air to assure us
that some one was on board.
As we came up to the boat we hove to for it to come alongside. The
people on board seemed to have considerable difficulty in maneuvering
their craft, and so Mr. Johnson, our second mate, was ordered to lower
one of our boats and go to the relief of the stranger. This he did
promptly, and very soon the two boats were alongside, fastened to ropes
that had been thrown over for their accommodation.
Mr. Johnson sent one of the men from our boat up the side of the ship
to the deck, to tell the captain that the people in the strange boat
were so exhausted that they would be unable to climb the rope safely,
and he advised that a sling should be rigged in order to get them on
board.
Immediately on learning this Captain Dawson ordered a sling to be
rigged from the end of the mainyard. In ten or fifteen minutes the
sling was ready, and meantime some bread and hot coffee had been
lowered for the use of the unfortunate strangers. There were eight of
them in the boat altogether, and as I looked over the side I could see
that there were two women and a girl in the party. One of the women
was middle aged, and the other young, perhaps sixteen or thereabouts.
These two and the girl, who appeared to be six or seven years old,
clung closely together, and I judged that the elder of the trio was the
mother of the other two. Close by them was a soldierly, dignified man
who seemed to be consoling and cheering them, and I concluded that he
was the husband of the elder woman, and the father of the two others.
When the sling was ready the strangers were speedily hoisted on deck.
The sling was made of a piece of stout canvas sewn into the shape of a
chair, and with its sides held into position by means of part of a hoop
from an old water-cask.
The edge of the canvas was turned over so as to make it double, and in
this doubled edge three holes were pierced to receive the ends of a
half-inch rope. The three small ropes were joined together about four
feet above the sling and fastened to a three-quarter-inch rope that
passed through a tackle at the end of the mainsail-yard. By means of
this rope and tackle the chair, or sling, could be raised and lowered
at will.
It was lowered into the boat and the middle-aged woman was placed in
it. She hesitated at first at trusting herself to be hoisted into
the air; but the man I took to be her husband urged her, and after a
little demur she sat down as directed. Mr. Johnson had stepped into
the boat to see that the sling was properly managed, and before the
order was given to hoist away he passed a rope around the sling and its
passenger, so that in case she became frightened and lost control of
herself she would not be likely to fall out.
When all was ready the word was given and the men on the deck of the
Washington hauled away with a will. When the sling was well above the
level of our rail it was drawn in on deck by means of a line that had
been fastened to it independent of the hoisting-line. As it was drawn
in the sailors who had hoisted it eased away on the rope, and in less
time than it takes me to tell it the fair passenger stood on the deck
of our ship.
Captain Dawson approached the lady, raised his hat, and said,--
"Madam, please walk into my cabin and make yourself at home. Your
friends will join you immediately as they are brought on board."
[Illustration: "THIS IS JACK CRANE," SAID CAPTAIN DAWSON. Page 159.]
The lady, for she was a real lady, thanked Captain Dawson for his
politeness, and accepted his invitation. He accompanied her to the door
of his cabin, again raised his hat to her, and returned to his place on
deck near the mainmast.
A minute or so after he came back the other woman was safely hoisted on
deck. Captain Dawson repeated in almost the same words the invitation
to go to his cabin. The young woman thanked him, and said,--
"If you please, sir, I'll stay here until my sister comes. She will be
next, I believe, so your officer said, and we two will go together."
The captain bowed, saying, "Just as you please; the cabin is at your
service at any moment, and the lady who first came on board is now
there."
Very speedily the little girl reached the Washington's deck, and
immediately seized her sister by the hand.
"What a nice way of getting on board that is!" said the younger one;
"seemed to me as though I was a bird and flying through the air; but I
wouldn't like to go far that way."
"No," replied the other; "neither would I. It's very kind of the people
on this ship to take so much trouble on our account."
"Pardon me, but it is always a sailor's duty to aid those in distress,"
said Captain Dawson, who was standing so near that he could not help
overhearing all that was said by the two sisters. "And what greater
distress can there be than yours as we found you on the open ocean?
Come, please, now you are together, and go to my cabin."
Without waiting for a reply he led the way to the entrance of the cabin
followed by the young woman and girl. Then he bowed himself away as he
had done in the previous instance.
The next to come on board was the man whom I took for the head of the
family whose other members we had already received. My surmise was
correct; he announced himself as Captain Graham of His Majesty's army,
and explained that he was on his way from London to Bermuda on the ship
Evelyn, Captain Woods, accompanied by his family. They were the only
passengers on the ship, and, as circumstances had turned out, he was
very glad that such was the case. Captain Dawson asked him if he would
join his family in the cabin or remain on deck. He paused a moment, and
then said he thought he would see his wife and daughters, as they might
possibly need his assistance in some way.
"All right," said Captain Dawson; "I'll go with you, and show you the
cabin and the accommodations that it will be possible to give you. We
are not fitted up for carrying passengers," he explained, "but we will
manage in some way to dispose of you."
The British officer thanked his host for his courtesy, and together
they proceeded to the cabin. Captain Graham entered first, and was
speedily followed by Captain Dawson, who lingered at the entrance a
moment to give some directions to Mr. Stevens.
The other occupants of the strange boat that we had picked up were the
captain, the second mate, and three of the crew. They were quickly
landed on our deck, and as their boat was in good condition and we had
room for it, it was hoisted in and saved. Then the Washington filled
away on her course and left behind her the scene of the rescue of the
people from the Evelyn.
Meantime, in the cabin of the Washington, Captain Dawson did everything
he could to make his guests comfortable. They were weak and worn with
their sufferings in the open boat, and it was with difficulty that
the women and girl were able to stand. The man was more robust than
they, but even he had lost a great deal of his customary strength.
Fortunately for the new arrivals there were two vacant rooms in
the cabin of the Washington, and one of them was large enough to
accommodate three persons. The larger of these rooms was given up to
Mrs. Graham and her two daughters; Captain Graham was lodged in the
other of the vacant rooms, where he was shortly after joined by the
captain of the Evelyn. Everything about the room was placed at the
disposal of the strangers, who thanked Captain Dawson with the greatest
heartiness for the kindness he was showing them.
"I am sorry I can do so little for your comfort," he replied,
addressing his remark to Mrs. Graham, "as I haven't any women's
clothing on board,--at least, I don't know of any. I'll turn out the
contents of the slop-chest, and you can pick out whatever you like. If
you can find anything that will answer your purpose, why just take it
and use it."
The slop-chest was in a store-room off the cabin, and was in charge
of Mr. Stevens. He was sent for to open the chest and spread out the
contents upon the cabin table. When this was done both Captain Dawson
and Mr. Stevens left the cabin in order to give the strangers an
opportunity to select what they liked without being embarrassed by
their presence.
Captain Woods of the Evelyn was temporarily consigned to the
forecastle, where he arrayed himself in dry clothing which Mr. Johnson
furnished him. As soon as possible a good meal of scouse, bread, and
coffee was supplied to the rescued people, to which Captain Dawson
added some sherry and brandy for those in the cabin, and some West
India rum for the others. It is needless to say that the party sat down
to their meal with excellent appetites, and ate their food with a good
relish. Our captain apologized for the meagerness of the fare, but was
told in reply, that the banquet was fit for a king, and no apologies
were necessary.
CHAPTER XI.
HOW THE EVELYN WAS LOST.--I AM TRANSFERRED FROM FORECASTLE TO
CABIN.--OUR PASSENGERS.--ARRIVAL AT BOSTON.
Little was seen of the British officer and his family during that day,
and that little was when Captain Dawson or either of our mates had
occasion to visit the cabin. The feminine contingent located there kept
to their room nearly all the time, while Captain Graham went to bed
and slept soundly after his exhausting experience. The captain of the
Evelyn also retired to sleep, and so did the second mate and sailors,
who were assigned to quarters in the forecastle.
Of course everybody on the Washington did his best to relieve the
sufferings of the castaways and make them comfortable. The three
sailors were rigged out in spare garments contributed by the
Washington's crew; but a day or two later Captain Dawson supplied them
with garments from the slop-chest, and enabled them to return the
borrowed clothing. We didn't learn very much about their mishap until
the next day, when they had sufficiently recovered their strength to be
able to talk. Each of them told the story of their misfortune in a way
differing somewhat from that of his shipmates, but substantially, and
in all essential particulars, the account was the same. Here it is:--
As before stated, the Evelyn was on a voyage from London to Bermuda.
They had a favoring wind down the channel, and were well out beyond
Land's End and the Scilly Isles, when they encountered for two or three
days some strong head winds. Then the weather became fine again, and
the ship continued on her course towards her destination for a week or
more. After this they had another series of gales, more severe than the
first. The ship labored heavily in the water; she was a dull sailer,
and one of the crew said she was the "bloomin'est old tub" that he was
ever in.
As the gale abated it was found that the ship was leaking; but the
leak didn't seem to be a very bad one, though it required two men to
be constantly working at the pumps. On the second day after the leak
began it was found to be somewhat increased. Then all hands were called
to the pumps, and the ship was put before the wind, so that both pumps
could be kept going. At the time all hands were called the mate went
into the hold and found about two feet of water there; ten or twelve
hours later he again visited the hold and found three feet of water.
In spite of the working of both pumps all the time, night and day, the
water increased; and on the morning of the third day of the leak, the
ship had settled so much into the water that the sea occasionally made
a complete breach over her.
"Then Captain Woods ordered the stanchions and bulwarks cut away," said
one of the men, "between the fore and main rigging, to let the water
run off the decks, and to make it easier for launching the boats. Food
and water were prepared to be placed in the boats, and a lookout was
stationed aloft to see if any sail was in sight.
"There was no ship to be seen," he continued, "and then the captain
gave orders to get out the boats. The long boat was got out first; but
as she was being lowered to the side a sea broke over, and half filled
her with water. Four men jumped into the boat and bailed her out just
as quick as they could. Then a quantity of food and water was placed
in her, and she was trailed back at the stern of the ship. A warp was
passed over the larboard bow of the ship, outside of the forerigging
and into the gangway to the boat, leaving sufficient slack to allow her
to go astern. Just as she was abreast of the stern a sea struck her,
and stove in two planks of the larboard bilge.
"It seemed as though we were doomed," said the man from the Evelyn; but
the captain cheered us and ordered some blankets thrown into the boat
to stop the leak. The blankets were thrust over the hole, and one of
the men stood on them to keep them in. Then the first mate, with eight
more of the crew, got into the boat. The mate nailed a plank over the
leak, so that with the help of the blankets it was pretty well stopped.
The boat had now drifted to the weather quarter of the Evelyn, and
it was hauled up towards the ship with the intention of taking the
passengers aboard; but just as they were about to do so another sea
struck the boat, and when it receded from the ship the sudden jerk
broke the rope and let the boat go adrift.
The crew attempted to pull it to the ship, but owing to the quantity
of water in her they could not succeed. Then they left off pulling and
began to bale the boat out. She drifted farther and farther away, and
we very soon saw there was no hope of our getting to her.
"There were then eight of us left on board,--the eight that you have
rescued. We had made preparations for lowering the quarter-boat, and
now that the long boat was gone we went at work as fast as we could.
Owing to the pumps having been stopped, the ship was settling deeper
into the water every minute, and threatening to go out from under us
before long. We put some food and water on board, and a few articles of
clothing for the women; and then we were lucky enough to get the boat
afloat without accident, though she took in several barrels of water
before we were able to get clear from the ship. It was understood that
we were to stay in our places just as we got into them from the ship.
Captain Woods took one of his compasses, and enough of his instruments
to work out our position; but the instruments were of very little use
to us at the start, as it made no difference to us where our position
was when we were hundreds of miles from land in every direction.
"Captain Woods is a hard master, and he keeps regular man-of-war
discipline on his ship. We have often thought him a very severe man,
but his severity came in handy when we were cast away in the boat.
"We had four oars, and there was a mast and a place to ship it, but
there was no sail; we made a sail out of a piece of canvas and got
along very well. Our nearest land was the Bermuda Islands, and so we
steered in that direction, after seeing the ship go down, which she did
within an hour after we took to the boat. She plunged headforemost,
throwing her stern completely into the air; I suppose that's because
the heaviest part of her cargo was forward.
"The captain served out the provisions and water very sparingly, and
we grumbled a little at the way he treated us, but you may be sure we
didn't grumble out aloud, or we might have been pitched overboard.
It was about two in the afternoon when we saw the ship go down. The
captain said it was no use wasting our strength rowing, and so we
simply lay there on the water until we could rig the sail I told you
about. That sail was useful to us in more ways than one, for every time
there came a shower we spread it out and got all the water we could. As
it turned out, we had water and provisions enough for our purpose in
the way the captain served them out; but I'm afraid we would have run
very short if we had been obliged to go to the Bermudas in that open
boat.
"The second day we were on the water we saw a sail, just a speck off
on the southern horizon. We hoisted a signal of distress by putting
the British colors on our mast with the Union down, and we took to the
oars and rowed as hard as we could to get near the vessel's track.
But we were too far off to be seen by the naked eye, and even if her
lookout had had a strong telescope it wouldn't have been easy for him
to find us. It was terrible for us to see that ship go on and sail away
out of sight, and I thought Mrs. Graham would go crazy then and there.
She cried and laughed, and laughed and cried, and went into hysterics,
when she found there was no hope of rescue by that ship. Her husband
tried to cheer her by saying that we would quite likely sight another
ship in a day or two, but it was very hard for him to comfort her. The
girls bore up the bravest of all, and I can't help admiring them. They
were a good deal frightened at first, when they got into the boat and
saw the Evelyn go down into the Atlantic, but they became quite cheery
afterwards, and did a good deal to bring their mother back to her
senses.
"All the next day and the next, we watched for a sail, but saw nothing.
We had sunshine and showers, and showers and sunshine, at irregular
intervals. When the sun shone it was very hot on the waters; when the
showers fell we were all thoroughly drenched; but the showers were
welcome always, as we were able to collect water every time.
"It was the morning of the fifth day after the Evelyn foundered when
we saw the sails of the Washington; and what cheered us was that she
was sailing in a direction which would bring her within seeing distance
of us. We put up our sail and fastened our flag to it with the union
down; and then we watched and waited. As the Washington got off pretty
nearly abreast of us, we were afraid you hadn't seen us; and I tell you
it was an anxious time aboard that boat. When we saw your yards braced
about, and the ship steering down on us, our hearts jumped up into our
throats, and we cheered just as hard as our voices would let us. We
knew then that we were safe; and the rest of the story you know all
about."
I said that the Washington continued on her course as soon as the
castaways had been taken on board and the boats hauled in; she kept
that course for less than an hour, and for this reason:--
When Captain Dawson heard from the master of the Evelyn the history of
the disaster, he suggested that he would go in search of the long boat
and its occupants. Captain Woods said that the mate would undoubtedly
do as he had himself done, provided he could keep the boat afloat;
that is, he would steer for the Bermudas. The Washington's course was
changed so as to sail over the route traversed by the Evelyn's boat.
Her captain thought he had come not far from forty miles a day since
the catastrophe, and, consequently, they were about two hundred miles
from where the Evelyn went down. We sailed for that distance and more,
too, lying-to in the night with bright lights burning, and then sailed
back again to where we had picked up the boat.
No trace could be found of the long boat, nor, in fact, did we see
any sign of the lost Evelyn. If any of the rubbish that usually
encumbers the deck of a merchant ship was floating on the water we did
not pass near enough to discover it. It was doubtless the case that
the long boat sank within a day or two after her separation from the
quarter-boat. It's a good lot of years since that thing happened, and
I've never heard of her crew being picked up by any other ship, or of
her arrival at the Bermudas or any other place.
With a captain of his Majesty's army and his family on board the
Washington, Captain Dawson thought it was proper to have somebody to
wait upon them. His choice fell upon me; and I was taken from my duty
in the starboard watch and installed as cabin-boy. This is the way it
came about.
Mr. Stevens was talking with the captain in a low tone on the
quarter-deck, and called out to one of the sailors,--
"Tell Jack Crane to lay aft!"
I went aft, wondering what I had done to be called there, and what my
punishment would be for the offense which I could only imagine. When I
reached the place where they were standing, the captain said,--
"Jack, Mr. Stevens says you're a handy lad, and I'm going to promote
you. You are relieved from duty in your watch, and will be cabin-boy
the rest of the voyage."
I did not feel like thanking him at all, for I preferred to be forward,
as I had been; but I was obliged to say something, and so I replied,
"Thank you, sir."
"All right," said the captain, "come into the cabin, and I'll tell you
what you're to do."
I followed him in to the cabin,--they call it a saloon on grand
ships,--where Captain Graham and his family were seated. I presume he'd
given them warning, as they were grouped around the table like members
of a royal court when the king is expected to walk in.
"This is Jack Crane," said Captain Dawson; "and he's going to be
cabin-boy the rest of the voyage. I don't believe he knows much about
waiting on gentlemen and ladies, but he's a handy boy around the ship,
and it won't take him long to learn."
Again I didn't know exactly what to say, and I think my embarrassment
must have shown on my face. Captain Graham helped me out by saying,--
"He's a fine-looking youth; and I'm sure that anybody who sails with
Captain Dawson can do anything that is wanted. That's what we say in
England of all you people on the other side of the Atlantic," he
continued, looking at me all the while; "and I think this lad will give
a good account of himself."
"I'll try, sir," said I. "I don't know what is expected of me, and if I
make any blunders I want to be told of 'em at once."
"Spoken like a man," said Captain Graham; "I'm sure we'll get along
well together."
This was my introduction to my duty as cabin-boy; and it is proper to
say that I didn't have much difficulty in learning my duties. Captain
Graham was a gentleman all over, and his wife was a lady if there ever
was one. They had brought up their children to know their duties to
their parents and to others; and I'll say this for 'em, that I never
saw a better mannered pair of their ages than they were. They always
treated me civilly, and had a pleasant "good-morning" for me when they
saw me for the first time during the day.
It was the same with Captain Graham and his wife. I know the captain
was a perfect gentleman because it was so easy to satisfy him. He
never gave me an order or sent me for anything unless it was really
necessary; and I can say the same of his wife. I know I must have been
awkward at times, but he never complained of my awkwardness; and if
there was anything I didn't know, and it became necessary to tell me,
he gave the instructions in the kindest manner imaginable. I had a
very pleasant term of service in the cabin; and when we got to Boston
every one of the family thanked me for my attentions to them, and bade
me a real hearty good-by. We never expected to see each other again,
but Fortune is a funny jade; and later on in this book I'll tell you
something about the circumstances of our next seeing each other.
As soon as they recovered their strength, Mrs. Graham and her elder
daughter set about providing themselves with garments out of the
slop-chest. By great good luck, there was in the bottom of the
slop-chest a roll of blue cloth, of the same kind and quality as that
of which the sailors' jackets and trousers were made. With a little
alteration some of the ready-made jackets fitted the women very well,
and were not at all bad in appearance. From the roll of cloth they made
the lower half of their dresses.
Candor compels me to say that the fitting was not quite equal to that
of a fashionable dressmaker, but for an impromptu affair made on
shipboard it was entirely satisfactory. I hardly had a glimpse of the
women and the girl until the dresses were complete; then they came
out into the cabin and were quite sociable with everybody. By keeping
my ears open I quickly ascertained that the eldest daughter's name
was Violet, and the second one, Mary. Both were very refined in their
manners, and they could hardly help being so in view of the excellent
example which they received from their parents.
In the latter part of the voyage I had frequent conversations with Miss
Violet, who had a good many questions to ask about the United States,
and the way the people lived there. She asked about the cities, and I
was obliged to say that I knew nothing about them. I told her I had
been in only one large city, Boston, and remained there only a very
short time.
"I suppose," said Miss Violet, "that you came directly from the country
to go on board the Washington, did you not?"
"Yes, miss," I answered; "my friend David and I walked from our homes
in New Hampshire to Boston; and the very morning we arrived there we
signed the ship's articles and went on board the Washington."
"Then you don't know what a great city is. I hope sometime you will be
able to see London and go all over it. You will have to stay some time
to do it," she added with a laugh, "as London is the greatest city in
the world."
I replied that I believed it was, and probably my sailor's life would
take me there some time.
She was very much interested in the account I gave her of country life
in New Hampshire,--of the deep snows in winter; the distance between
houses; the long distance we had to go to church on Sunday; and the
schools we attended in winter. I told her all about our farm-life,--how
we worked in the fields in planting-time, haying-season, and harvest,
and what we had on our tables for our meals at different seasons of
the year. Every time I had a conversation with her, her younger sister
listened for a while with almost as much interest as Miss Violet did,
but after a time she grew listless and turned away. When she did so I
usually thought I had talked quite enough, and so I changed or dropped
the subject, and then proceeded about my duties.
I had been relieved from standing watch, as the reader knows, but I
slept in the forecastle just as I had before being appointed cabin-boy.
My companions joked me a good deal about my new associations, and said
they expected I wouldn't condescend to look at them any more. It was
amusing enough at first; but after a time it grew wearisome, and I
intimated as much to Haines.
Thereupon Haines passed the word that the sport at my expense might
as well come to an end. Most of the watch acted upon his suggestion
and gave me no more annoyance. Others kept it up for a while, until
they received a more vigorous reminder, and one of them persisted in
it until he had a little game of fisticuffs with Haines. The row was
all over in a few minutes, as all the rest of the crew took Haines's
part. At the suggestion of one of them the combatants shook hands and
forgave each other, and from this time on I was no longer the subject
of ridicule.
We had no further adventure worth recording during the rest of our
voyage, and in due time made the coast of Massachusetts off Nantucket,
and then steered so as to pass safely around Cape Cod and into Boston
Harbor. As we entered the bay the wind was from the north-west and
quite unsteady. We had hoped to get to the Washington's dock before
night, but on account of the wind we anchored in the lower bay and did
not go up until the following morning.
CHAPTER XII.
A VOYAGE TO CHINA.--CROSSING THE LINE.--MALAY PIRATES.--WHAMPOA
ANCHORAGE.--MORE TROUBLES WITH GREAT BRITAIN.
The castaways whom we took on board from the Evelyn were in a destitute
condition; at least the sailors were, and so was the second mate.
Captain Graham had saved a bag of gold and some Bank of England notes,
and the same was the case with Captain Woods, and so they were by no
means crippled for the want of money. The three sailors were not at
all sorry at the opportunity they had for coming to the United States
without being under obligations to go away again when their ship
sailed. Before three days were over they had signed articles on board
an American ship and were off to sea again, this time under the flag of
the United States.
The Washington was warped into her berth and made fast. Word was sent
to the office of the owners, notifying them that the ship's voyage to
the Mediterranean and back was ended. Of course, all were anxious to go
on shore; and after the sails had been furled, and all necessary work
performed, liberty was granted to everybody. In half an hour from the
time we were tied up at the dock, the captain, officers, passengers,
and crew, had all gone ashore, and there was no one on board except the
shipkeeper, who had been sent from the owners' office to take charge of
the newly arrived craft.
Word had been passed around that everybody would be paid off at the
owners' office on the following morning; and you may be sure that
officers and crew were on hand to receive their pay. Several of the
sailors came back to the ship at night to sleep, as they had no money
wherewith to pay for their lodging on shore. When they obtained their
pay on the following morning, the majority of the men started out to
enjoy it; and it is safe to say that within a week their pockets were
empty, and they were compelled to ship for another voyage.
I kept a small portion of my money and sent the rest to my parents,
to whom I wrote a description of a sailor's life as I had found it.
The fact is, I began that letter soon after we passed the Straits
of Gibraltar on our homeward voyage. I was only able to write a few
lines on the first day, but I kept adding to it whenever I had an
opportunity; so that by the time I reached Boston the letter covered
several pages of foolscap. David had been doing the same thing, and our
letters went away together.
We found some letters awaiting us at the owners' office, one of them
of quite recent date. Everybody in both the families was well; and
in every letter they told us how much we were missed. We were half
inclined to make a visit to Pembroke, but finally concluded not to do
so, as the journey would be expensive for us in case we traveled by
stage-coach, and fatiguing if we made it on foot. We decided to remain
in Boston and look out for berths on the first good ship that was
leaving port. We thought it quite possible that we might sail on the
Washington; but after calling two or three times at the ship, and also
at her owners' office, we concluded that she would be delayed too long
in port to suit us.
The third day after our arrival, we heard of a fine new ship, the
"Aurora," which was up for China. Her cargo was nearly all on board,
and she would sail in a few days. We went on board of her; and then
we went to her agents and found that what we had heard was true.
Bill Haines and Joe Herne accompanied us, or rather we accompanied
them, as it was Haines who first heard of the Aurora, and advised
our visiting her. The four of us had stuck together, going to the
same boarding-house to live, and going about together on sight-seeing
excursions.
The result of our investigation was that we signed articles for the
Aurora; and when she sailed out of Boston on her way to China we trod
her deck with a good deal of satisfaction. None of us cared to go to
the Mediterranean again and run the risk of becoming an Algerine slave;
and, furthermore, we thought it was a good chance to see the world by
taking the course we did.
At that time not many American ships had visited China, the trade of
the United States being principally with the West Indies, the west
coast of Africa, the Mediterranean Sea, and the ports of Great Britain
and Europe. The United States had about one and a quarter million tons
of commercial shipping, and it was evident that in the course of time a
voyage to China would be almost as common as a trip to any of the West
Indian ports.
Our voyage to China was not very eventful; we had no severe gales at
all on the way out, though we had several heavy blows which might have
troubled a landsman if he had been caught in one of them a day or two
after going to sea for the first time. When we reached the region of
the equator we were caught in the calm belt, which is well known to
sailors, and had an exasperating delay under the rays of a tropical
sun that beat down pitilessly upon us, while we lay with sails hanging
loose from the yards, and with scarcely a sign of motion anywhere. When
we crossed the equator, the greenhorns (all those who had never before
been in the southern hemisphere) were treated to a visit by Neptune.
This is an invariable custom on shipboard, and sometimes the victims
are severely handled.
In our case the morning after we crossed the line all the greenhorns
were locked up in the forecastle and not allowed to come on deck until
the preparations were complete. One of the older sailors was dressed to
resemble Neptune, with beard and hair made of rope-yarn, and carrying
in his right hand a trident with a small fish impaled on one of its
prongs. He slipped quietly over the bows, then hailed the ship, and
came on board. After a short parley with the captain, he said he wished
to see those who had recently entered his service.
Neptune was attended by two Tritons, who were dressed in much the same
grotesque fashion that he was. When he asked for his new servants, one
of the greenhorns was let out from the forecastle and taken in hand by
the Tritons. It was my fortune or misfortune to be the first victim. I
was blindfolded and led before Neptune, who questioned me in a loud and
imperious tone as to my name and birthplace. Then he asked if I'd been
to school, and whether I'd learned anything.
I began to think I was going to get off easily; but my belief proved
to be ill founded. After the question concerning my education Neptune
asked,--
"Do you intend to be a faithful servant of my realm?"
When I opened my mouth to reply, a paint-brush, which had been
dipped in the water from the trough under the grindstone, was shoved
into my mouth, and then the same brush, with more of the unsavory
liquid, was passed back and forth upon my face after the manner of a
lathering-brush.
Neptune then ordered me to be shaved; and the shaving was to be
performed with a piece of iron hoop, in which notches like the teeth
of a saw had been filed. I received several scratches on my face; and
while I was wincing under them a bucket of water was thrown over me,
and the bandage which covered my eyes was removed. I was then let
loose, and permitted to see the remainder of the fun.
One by one all the greenhorns were brought up and went through
substantially the same ordeal. Some were handled much more severely
than others. David was let off about the same as I was; and we found
when the show was over that we had been treated more leniently than any
one else. We wondered why this was the case until we learned that the
Tritons who attended Neptune were none other than our friends, Bill
Haines and Joe Herne.
If there had been passengers on board who had never crossed the line
before they would have been subjected to the same treatment, unless
they had paid a fine of two or three dollars each, which they generally
pay without hesitation. The money thus obtained is spent in luxuries
for the crew, either at the time or at the ship's port of destination.
On English passenger ships, going from England out to India around the
Cape of Good Hope, I am told that the sailors reap quite a harvest out
of this ceremony of "Crossing the Line."
We rounded the Cape of Good Hope in fine style, the wind being in our
favor and carrying us rapidly along. The captain had held well to the
southward, so that we barely caught a glimpse of the shores of Africa.
We could see the outline of the mountains that form the southern end of
that continent, but nothing more than the outline.
The day after we passed the Cape of Good Hope I had the watch aloft in
the forenoon. Just as it struck eight bells I gave a last look around
the horizon before descending to the deck, when my eye caught a speck
on the water very nearly abeam of us. It was altogether too far away
to be made out, and I hesitated whether to report it or not. Something
impelled me to do so, and I hailed the deck and told what I had seen.
The captain and first officer were just making their noon observations,
and the second mate came aloft to see what I had discovered. He
brought the captain's glass, and after a careful scrutiny he said that
the object was evidently a boat, but he could not determine if there
was any one in it.
"We'll settle that very soon," said the captain when the mate had made
his report. "Brace the yards around, and run for the boat or whatever
else it is."
The order was obeyed; and in a little while we hove-to within a hundred
yards of the object I had sighted, and which proved to be a boat. Here
we lowered the gig with the mate and a crew, and just as it struck the
water we saw two heads rising above the gunwale of the strange craft.
Then two more appeared; and it was evident that we had rescued four
castaways by my discovery. The boat and its inmates were soon at the
side of the Aurora, the men were brought on deck, the boat was hoisted
in and secured, and our ship filled away on her course.
They were part of the crew of an American ship from Boston to Calcutta.
She had foundered two days before, and the crew had taken to the boats
with the intention of making Cape Town; and we afterwards learned that
the other boats were picked up near that port. Judge of my surprise and
satisfaction when I found that one of the men we rescued was the son of
Samuel Bickford, the man at whose house David and I were entertained
on our first night away from home, as told in the second chapter of
this narrative. Certainly I had repaid his hospitality which I had
never forgotten. In fact, I was thinking about it not more than five
minutes before I saw the speck on the water.
When we reached the Straits of Sunda it was whispered around that we
might have an affair with the pirates that infest this region. The
captain had all the guns carefully overhauled and made ready for work;
and for a week or more the crew of each gun had been trained so as to
know what to do. We carried the same armament as did the Washington,
about which I have already told the reader. The arm-chest was brought
up, and the guns and pistols which it contained were cleaned and
prepared for service; and the men who claimed to be most efficient with
these weapons were detailed to handle them in case their use became
necessary. In fact, we got ourselves all ready to meet the pirates, and
some of the younger sailors were rather disappointed when we passed
safely into the China Sea without encountering any of them.
These Malay pirates are a great pest and annoyance to mariners; and I
wonder that the civilized nations do not band together and wipe them
out of existence. But I've already wondered why they don't do the same
thing with the Algerine pirates; and I suppose I may keep on wondering
about these things for the rest of my life.
In one respect the Malays are worse than the Algerines. When the
Malays capture a ship they kill everybody on board, sparing neither
age nor sex; while the Algerines rarely kill anybody, except in actual
fighting, reserving their prisoners to sell them into slavery. Whether
this mercy is due solely to their cupidity or for other reasons I am
unable to say.
I said we did not encounter any Malay pirates; but we should have done
so, had it not been for a wind that came up one afternoon. We were
becalmed in a channel, about six miles wide, between two islands. It
was a dead calm, and the only motion there was on the ship was given
to her by the current that carried us along perhaps half a mile per
hour. While we lay there we saw a long boat, full of men, pulling along
the coast of one of the islands, and disappearing among the trees that
fringe the shore.
Presently we saw the same boat, with two others of similar size and
appearance, coming out from among the trees and steering in our
direction. There seemed to be about forty men in each boat, twenty of
them rowing or paddling, and another twenty standing or sitting idle.
The captain ordered everything to be made ready to give them a warm
reception. The two guns on our starboard side were loaded with canister
shot, and made ready for business. The long gun amidships was loaded in
the same way; and it was the captain's intention to give the fellows
all three of those guns in succession, as soon as they got within easy
range. The small arms were brought up and distributed, and the men who
held them were stationed near the ship's bow to resist the Malays in
case they came near enough to board the Aurora. These Malay pirates
always board a ship over the bows. They're as active as monkeys, and go
nearly naked; and sometimes they grease their bodies all over, so that
it's difficult to hold them if you attempt to capture them.
I felt my heart beat fast as I saw these scoundrels coming towards us,
as the word had been passed around that all our lives would be taken in
case of the capture of the ship. I think the boats were about half way
from the land to the ship when I noticed a ripple on the water astern
of us, and at the same instant heard the captain give an order to brace
around the yards.
The breeze came on very quickly; it filled our sails; we heard the
rippling of the water under our bows; and as our motion through the
water became perceptible we saw that our unwelcome visitors had
stopped rowing. They saw that we were in motion, and pursuit was of no
further use.
When we were within about two hundred miles of Canton we were caught
in the outer edge of a hurricane; but so completely were we on the
edge of it that it neither alarmed nor damaged us. We reached Whampoa
Anchorage, at the mouth of Pearl River, the stream on which Canton
stands, without accident of any sort. Here we discharged our cargo,
and took in one for home. It consisted principally of tea and silks;
a great deal of the former, and not much of the latter. I wanted very
much to go up the river and see Canton, but all requests for liberty
on shore were denied, at least, so far as Canton was concerned. The
larboard watch had half a day in the foreign quarter of Whampoa, and
the starboard watch had the same allowance, but, of course, not at the
same time. From what I saw of the Chinese during my single visit to
land I did not think they would be an agreeable people to live among.
Perhaps they are better at Canton; but of course I cannot say anything
upon this point from actual knowledge.
In due time our cargo was completed, and the hatches were closed and
battened down; then we laid in our supply of water and such provisions
as we needed, and the very day that all was ready we had a fine wind
down the bay and out into the China Sea. Everything favored us on the
way home, and in due time we sailed into Boston Harbor; and my voyage
to China came to an end.
My next voyage was to the West Indies; in fact, I made several voyages
there, and should have made more of them had it not been for the
difficulties which arose between France and England on the one hand,
and the United States on the other.
On one occasion the brig on which I was serving was seized by
the British authorities in a West Indian port, and the cargo was
confiscated for a technical violation of the laws. The confiscation
of the ship, as well as the cargo, was threatened; but we succeeded
in saving her, and obtaining permission to leave port. On our way
home we were chased, and narrowly escaped capture, by a French
ship-of-war. We were at peace with France at that time, and also with
England; but England and France were at war, and they made it very
annoying and risky business for neutrals to trade with either of them.
In November, 1806, Napoleon issued from his camp in the capital of
Prussia the famous manifesto which is called the Berlin Decree. It
declared the ports of the whole of the British dominions in a state of
blockade, prohibited all correspondence and commerce with the British
Islands, ordered that all letters or packets written in England or
to an Englishman in the English language should be seized at French
post-offices, and proclaimed that all neutral vessels trading with
England should be liable to seizure and confiscation. As a retaliation
for this, Great Britain issued an "Order in Council," which declared
that the whole coast of Europe, from the Elbe in Germany to Brest in
France, was in a state of blockade, and making orders in regard to
neutrals similar to those enacted by the Berlin Decree. Of course these
two orders affected American commerce very seriously, as it virtually
cut off our trade with the two countries with which nearly all our
commerce was concerned.
In December, 1807, Napoleon issued another decree at Milan, which
was more rigorous, indeed, than that issued from Berlin. It declared
every vessel which should submit to being searched by the British
cruisers, or should pay any tax, duty, or license money to the British
government, or should be found on the high seas or elsewhere, bound
to or from any British port, denationalized and forfeited. Spain
and Holland issued the same orders; and the effect of these various
decrees was to cripple American commerce, and leave its ships rotting
in the harbors where they lay. When the decrees and orders were issued
they took effect immediately; all vessels then in French ports were
confiscated, and their owners were unable to obtain any redress for
their loss.
When the news of these decrees and orders in council reached the United
States, President Jefferson called Congress together earlier than
usual, and sent a message to inform the members of what had occurred,
and recommending the passage of an embargo act, "an inhibition of the
departure of our vessels from the ports of the United States." The
Senate passed the act laying an embargo on all shipping, foreign and
domestic, in the ports of the United States, with specified exceptions,
and ordering all vessels abroad to return home forthwith. The House
passed the bill; and it was signed by the President, and became a law.
It was an attempt to compel England and France to respect our rights by
withholding all intercourse with them.
Looking back at it, I think it accomplished nothing, or a good deal
worse than nothing. About fourteen months after its passage it was
repealed; but at the same time Congress passed a law forbidding all
commercial intercourse with France and England until the decrees and
the orders in council had been set aside.
David and I had been getting on very well in our sea-faring lives
down to this time. As long as we were sailors before the mast we kept
together; but when the time for promotion came we were drawn apart. I
had risen to the rank of second mate, and so had David; but we found
ourselves without occupation for a considerable part of the time. We
were also separated from our friends, Bill Haines and Joe Herne, and
only met at rare intervals.
CHAPTER XIII.
DAVID AND I VISIT OUR OLD HOME.--RETURN TO BOSTON, AND MEET BILL
AND JOE.--BILL'S ADVENTURE ON THE CHESAPEAKE.--AN "UNLUCKY" SHIP.
Along in the spring of 1808, David and I arrived in Boston; he from
a voyage to Sweden, and I from one to China. The owners of our ships
announced that they would be laid up for the present, and as soon as
anything could be found for us to do they would give us employment. So
we determined in our period of idleness to visit our old home. We had
been prosperous, and saved a fair amount of money, most of which we had
sent to our parents.
Having reached the office of second mate on first-class ships, we
thought it beneath our dignity to walk all the way to Pembroke; and
so we took passage in a wagon that had recently come to Boston from
Concord, the capital of New Hampshire, with a load of butter, cheese,
and other things produced in the country. The wagoner was taking back
a light load of goods, the proceeds of the sale of the articles
I mentioned, and had plenty of room for two passengers. We could
have gone by stage-coach, and saved several hours in time; but the
difference between the stage fare and that of the wagon was enough to
make us decide upon the slower mode of conveyance.
We received a hearty welcome from all our friends. I am glad to say
we found everybody well; and those whom we had left as boys and girls
were mostly grown to be men and women. My parents told how they had
missed me greatly, and longed to see me back again. My mother was so
surprised when I walked unannounced into the house that she came near
fainting. Tears came into my father's eyes, and he greeted me with a
choking voice; but very quickly the voice cleared up, and he said he
felt like capering about the room. Everybody complimented us on our
healthy appearance, our bronzed faces, and our well-developed figures,
which had been hardened and toughened by our sea-faring life. We were
the heroes of the time and place, and were kept busy narrating our
adventures to all our old friends.
We remained at home about two weeks, and then, fearful lest we might
miss a good opportunity of going to sea again, we returned to Boston in
the same way as we had come from that city, and with the same wagoner.
We went straight to our former boarding-house, and as we approached
saw, just outside the door, the familiar forms and faces of our old
friends, Bill and Joe. There was a hearty greeting all around; and you
may be sure that the evening and the next day were spent in telling the
adventures which each had passed through since we were last together.
The most interesting of all the stories was that of my old friend, Bill
Haines, which I will endeavor to give as nearly as possible in his own
words.
"You remember that affair of the Chesapeake, don't you?" said Haines.
"Of course I do," I replied; "and pretty nearly everybody in the
country knows about it."
"Well, I was in that little brush," said Haines, "and I can probably
tell you a good deal more than you know about it.
"I went down the coast from New York to the Potomac River along in the
early part of February, 1807. When we got to Washington the crew of
the coaster was paid off and discharged; the captain said he was going
to lie up there, he didn't know for how long. I went to looking around
for something, but there wasn't a craft I could ship on, leastways,
not a merchant craft. I heard that the Chesapeake, thirty-eight guns,
which was then lying at Washington, was going to be sent out to the
Mediterranean to fight the Barbary coast pirates, and sure enough, she
was put into commission on the 22d day of February.
"Captain Gordon was put in command of the ship, and Commodore Barron
was selected to hoist a broad pennant in her as commander of the
squadron. As soon as the orders had been issued they began enlisting
a crew, and I was one of the men who enlisted. They had a good set of
officers all around, and no doubt the crew was a good one, but it was
very green when we dropped down the Potomac about the 4th of June and
anchored in Hampton Roads. When we left the navy-yard at Washington we
had only twelve guns on board and a part of our stores, and we stayed
in Hampton Roads about three weeks completing our armament, and taking
on provisions, water, ammunition, and other necessary things."
"You seem to have taken things very leisurely," I remarked, as Haines
paused for a moment.
"Yes, that's so," was the reply; "but then in time of peace you don't
do things in a hurry on a man-of-war. Although the ship was put in
commission on the 22d of February, it wasn't until the 22d of June that
we got underway from Hampton Roads, bound to the Mediterranean.
"I must go back a little and say that, while we were enlisting the
crew, the British minister complained to the navy department that we
had taken in three deserters from his Majesty's ship, Melampus. The
Melampus had been lying in Hampton Roads, and they claimed that three
of her men got away from her and enlisted on the Chesapeake."
"Didn't our government do anything about it?" I asked.
"Yes," Haines replied; "they told Commodore Barron what the British
minister had said, and the commodore told Captain Gordon to look into
the matter and report."
"Did he find that they really had three British deserters enlisted for
the Chesapeake?"
"Well, yes, they did," said Haines; "the three men were actually
deserters from the Melampus, but they all claimed to be impressed
Americans who were serving unwillingly on the British ship, and had
taken the first opportunity that offered to escape from their unjust
and illegal detention.
"One of the men was said to be a native of the eastern shore of
Maryland, a part of the country that Captain Gordon came from. He
made a careful investigation, the captain did, and was satisfied with
the truth of the man's story. Another of the alleged deserters was a
colored man, and there was hardly any chance to doubt the truth of his
assertion, that he was a native born American, and a victim of the
British system of impressment.
"The story of the third sailor was not entirely clear, but it
was pretty well established, and Captain Gordon made his report
accordingly. It went through the customary channels, and was afterwards
sent to the British minister, who appears to have been satisfied, as
nothing more was said on the subject. The story had circulated around
on the ship, but had been pretty well forgotten when we sailed for the
Mediterranean.
"When we went out to sea we encountered a British fleet of four ships
that had been lying around there for several months, watching some
French frigates which had taken shelter near Annapolis. One of them
was the Melampus, from which the three seamen already mentioned had
deserted; another was the Bellona, seventy-four guns; and another was
the Leopard, fifty guns. The Leopard really carried fifty-six guns,
which made her a much more powerful craft than the Chesapeake.
"When we hove anchor and put to sea, the Leopard did the same thing;
and as she was several miles farther down the bay, she was a good
distance ahead of us when we got into open water.
"We got off Cape Henry a little after noon, and as we passed the cape
we saw the Leopard a few miles to windward, heading off to sea with a
very light wind. A good breeze came up in a little while, and both the
Leopard and the Chesapeake got it and held directly off the land. When
the Chesapeake tacked, the Leopard did likewise, but nobody thought
there was anything unusual or suspicious in the movements of the
British beggar. Sailors who had been around Hampton Roads a good deal
said that the British cruisers were in the habit of standing out that
way, just to keep themselves in practice.
"I think it was about three o'clock, when both ships were about eight
miles from land. The Chesapeake tacked to windward again, and the
Leopard wore around and came down upon our weather quarter; when she
was within a hundred yards of us she hailed and told Commodore Barron
that she had dispatches for him. There was nothing suspicious in this,
as it was a common thing for the British officers to put dispatches on
board any of the American war-ships bound for Europe. Both vessels hove
to, and a boat from the Leopard came alongside the Chesapeake.
"When the officer from the Leopard reached the Chesapeake's deck,"
Haines continued, "he was shown into the cabin, where Commodore Barron
received him. Then the English lieutenant produced an order, signed by
Vice-Admiral Berkley, and addressed to all the captains on ships under
his command, directing them, if they fell in with the Chesapeake at
sea and out of the waters of the United States, to show her commander
this order to search for deserters, and proceed to search for them. At
the same time he presented a note from the commander of the Leopard
addressed to the commander of the Chesapeake, referring to the order of
the vice-admiral, and hoping that every question about the deserters
might be adjusted in a manner that the harmony between the two
countries should remain undisturbed."
"That was an impertinent piece of business," I remarked; "What did
Commodore Barron say in answer to the demand?"
"He said he knew of no such deserters as described, and that the
recruiting officers had been particularly instructed by the government
not to accept any deserters from the English ships."
"I suppose that the demand was for the three men from the Melampus, was
it not?" David inquired.
"No, not altogether," said Haines, "as they were after men from other
ships, who were supposed to have joined the Chesapeake while she lay at
Hampton Roads. There was one man in particular, who had run away from
the British man-of-war Halifax, who met his old captain on the street
in Norfolk one day and insulted him. The captain put a spy on the man's
track, and claimed that he was on board the Chesapeake at the time of
the affair with the Leopard; he was the one the English officers were
particularly anxious to get hold of.
"The English lieutenant remained on board the Chesapeake about half
an hour, when a signal of recall was hoisted on the Leopard and he
returned, carrying the answer of Commodore Barron. As soon as he had
gone Commodore Barron sent for Captain Gordon, and told him to get the
gun-deck clear, but this work had already been commenced an hour before
without reference to the Leopard.
"After giving this order Commodore Barron went on deck to examine the
Leopard; he then discovered the state of preparation on board the
English ship, and that the latter was in a condition to fight at any
moment. The Leopard was lying on the Chesapeake's weather quarter, her
guns trained, matches burning, people at their quarters, and everything
ready to begin a heavy fire; while the Chesapeake was littered and
lumbered, her crew had not yet exercised their guns, and they'd only
been mustered at quarters three times altogether. The men were busy
coiling away cables and moving some cabin furniture and other things,
which were all standing aft, and there was a good deal of baggage on
the gun-deck.
"Some of the lieutenants had been suspicious of the movements of the
Leopard from the beginning, and were pushing the work of clearing the
gun-deck as fast as possible. All the guns were loaded and shotted,
but while this was being done it was found that there were not enough
rammers, wads, matches, gun-locks, and powder-horns.
"Things were in this way when the Leopard's boat pulled back to her. As
soon as her people were out of her she was dropped astern, and almost
as soon as the lieutenant reached her deck the Leopard's commander
hailed the Chesapeake. Commodore Barron answered that he didn't
understand the hail, and it was repeated two or three times. Then the
Leopard fired a shot ahead of the Chesapeake; and I don't think it was
more than twenty seconds after that shot was fired when she gave us a
full broadside."
"Did we fire back with our broadside?" I asked.
"Commodore Barron gave the orders to fire, but there wasn't a gun
ready. The gunner had been ordered to fill the powder-horns with
priming powder, but when they were wanted it was found that he had
neglected to do so. After a while some priming powder was brought, but
there were no matches lighted, and the loggerheads were not hot enough.
While we were trying to fire one of the guns the Leopard kept pouring
broadsides into us, and we couldn't reply, because everything was in
confusion."
"Didn't we fire a gun at all? I had an impression we did," I remarked.
"Yes, we fired one gun, and only one, but it wasn't until after
Commodore Barron had ordered the flag hauled down. Just as the ensign
reached the taffrail one gun was fired from the second division of the
ship, and it was discharged by means of a coal brought from the galley
in the fingers of Lieutenant Allen, the officer of the division."
"Of course the Leopard stopped firing as soon as our colors were
lowered, and Commodore Barron immediately sent a boat on board the
British ship to say that the Chesapeake was at the disposal of the
English captain. The latter sent two of his officers to muster the
American crew, and the three men who were claimed to be deserters from
the Melampus, and one from the Halifax, were taken away. Commodore
Barron then sent another note to the captain of the Leopard, saying
that he was ready to give up his ship. The latter declined to take
possession of the Chesapeake and sailed away, and there was nothing for
us to do but return to Hampton Roads.
"Three of our crew were killed on the spot, and eighteen were wounded,
eight of them badly and ten slightly. Twenty-one round shot struck
the Chesapeake's hull, and her lower rigging was badly cut up by
grape-shot. She was in no condition to go to sea; we went to Norfolk
and in a few days a part of the crew was discharged. I was one of those
sent away, and so you see my voyage up the Mediterranean was a very
short one.
"One of these days, and it won't be a very long time either, we'll have
to go to war with England, and just show her what our ships can do in
fighting trim. The Leopard had a great advantage over us in having a
perfectly trained crew, while ours had had no training at all. Give us
a chance, and we'll teach the British a lesson they won't forget very
soon."
I may as well continue the history of this affair by telling how it
turned out. The unfortunate deserters were taken to Halifax, where
they were tried by a court-martial and sentenced to be hung. The three
Americans were reprieved, on condition that they should re-enter the
British service. The deserter from the Halifax, who was really an
English subject, was hung. One of the three Americans who had been
impressed into the Melampus died in the British service; the other two,
after five years of captivity, were restored to the deck of the ship
from which they had been taken.
There was great excitement all through the country when the news of the
affair between the Leopard and Chesapeake became known. For a while
local politics were forgotten, and all party lines were set aside.
Meetings were held in all the leading cities, in which the feelings
of the public were expressed in very vigorous language. There was an
almost universal demand for an immediate declaration of war against
Great Britain.
[Illustration: HE WAS JUST FAIRLY STOWED AWAY WHEN HAINES CAME. Page
225.]
Our government complained to the British government, and the latter
promptly replied by half apologizing for the occurrence and declaring
that the British admiral had exceeded his orders. He was removed
from the command of the squadron in American waters, ostensibly as a
punishment for his conduct, but not long afterwards he was given a
similar command on a more important station. Captain Humphreys of the
Leopard was also removed, and the British government appropriated a sum
of money for the families of those who had been killed on board the
Chesapeake.
Always after this the Chesapeake seems to have been an unlucky ship.
When the war broke out she went on an extensive cruise; she left
Boston toward the close of February, 1813, passed the Canary and Cape
Verde Islands, crossed the Equator, and cruised for six weeks in the
South Atlantic Ocean. She then went to the coast of South America,
sailed through the West Indies, and up the coast of the United States
to Boston again. During all that long cruise she met only three
ships-of-war, and captured only four merchant ships. When she was going
into Boston Harbor in a gale she lost a topmast, and several men, who
were aloft at the time, went overboard with it and were drowned.
After she came back to Boston Captain Lawrence was assigned to command
her. He accepted with great reluctance, on account of her "unlucky"
reputation, not because he had any superstitions on that account, but
because it was impossible to infuse into the crew the spirit that
promises success.
The Chesapeake was refitted for sea, and while she was refitting,
the British man-of-war Shannon appeared off Boston. She carried
thirty-eight guns, the same as the Chesapeake, and on the first of
June, Captain Broke, who commanded her, sent a challenge to Captain
Lawrence, asking him to meet the Shannon, ship to ship, and try the
fortunes of their respective flags. He offered to send all other ships
beyond the power of interference, and to meet the Chesapeake at any
point which Captain Lawrence might name within certain limits.
The challenge reached Boston after the Chesapeake had sailed, and the
letter was placed in the hands of Commodore Bainbridge, who commanded
the station. When the Chesapeake got outside, the Shannon was seen
lying off Boston Lighthouse under easy sail, with all colors displayed.
Captain Lawrence understood this as a challenge, and when the pilot
boat which was sent out to reconnoiter returned with the assurance that
the Shannon was alone, he determined to accept it.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CHESAPEAKE AND THE SHANNON.--ANOTHER VOYAGE TO CHINA.--MORE
ABOUT IMPRESSMENT.--I BECOME A CAPTAIN AND RECEIVE ORDERS.
It is proper to say that the Shannon, while ranking as a
thirty-eight-gun ship, really mounted fifty-two guns, while the
Chesapeake, with the same rating, mounted forty guns. She had a crew of
three hundred and thirty men and boys, was perfectly equipped, and the
men were thoroughly disciplined. On the other hand, the Chesapeake had
a crew which was naturally superstitious, as they regarded her unlucky.
Captain Lawrence had been in command of her less than two weeks, and
consequently did not know the abilities of her officers and men. The
first lieutenant was ill on shore, and died soon after the Chesapeake
sailed. The second lieutenant and two acting lieutenants were also
absent from the same cause. Lieutenant Thompson, who had been third
officer in the last cruise of the Chesapeake, became Lawrence's second
in command, and there was only one other commissioned officer on the
ship.
Many of the Chesapeake's crew were new to the ship, and those who had
served in her before were in a state bordering upon mutiny, on account
of disputes about prize money in their last cruise. In fact, the ship
was almost as much at a disadvantage in meeting the Shannon as she was
at the time she encountered the Leopard.
There was great excitement in Boston when it became known that the two
ships were to fight a duel outside of Boston Light. As the Chesapeake
moved out she fired a gun which made the Shannon heave to. The
Chesapeake had the weather gauge, and used it to advantage. She kept
on until she lay fairly along the larboard side of the Shannon, yard
arm and yard arm, within pistol-shot distance. Then she luffed and
ranged up abeam; when her foremast came in a line with the Shannon's
mizzenmast the Shannon opened fire, first with her cabin guns, and then
with the others. The Chesapeake remained silent until her broadside
bore well upon the Shannon; then she fired all her guns on that side,
and then broadsides were given by both ships in rapid succession.
The Chesapeake was practically defeated by the first broadside of the
Shannon, as she lost heavily in men by the shower of grape and canister
that was poured into her. She continued, however, to do her best, but
within twelve minutes after the first gun was fired her foretopsail-tie
and jib-sheet were shot away. This was the moment when she was about to
take the wind out of the Shannon's sails, shoot ahead, lay across her
bow, and rake her fore and aft. The Chesapeake would not obey her helm,
and speedily got her mizzen rigging foul of the Shannon's forechains.
In this position she was raked by her antagonist, Captain Lawrence was
wounded, the sailing-master was killed, and the first lieutenant, the
marine officer, the acting fourth lieutenant, and the boatswain were
all badly wounded.
As soon as the ships became untangled Captain Lawrence ordered the
boarders to be called up; while he was giving these orders he was
mortally wounded and carried below. His last words when he left the
deck became a rallying cry during the rest of the war:--
"Don't give up the ship!"
Captain Broke was a keen and experienced officer, and he saw the
weakness of the Chesapeake at this moment. He immediately ordered
his boarders away, and, placing himself at their head, reached the
quarter-deck of the Chesapeake without opposition. But as he pressed
forward toward the gangways he met the American boarders under
Lieutenant Budd, who attacked the British, and for a time checked
them. In a few minutes the British were in full possession of the
Chesapeake, and the first lieutenant of the Shannon hauled down the
colors of the captured vessel and hoisted the British flag. The fight
lasted only fifteen minutes, and was one of the most sanguinary on
record. The Chesapeake lost forty-eight men killed and ninety-eight
wounded. The Shannon lost twenty-six killed and fifty-eight wounded.
As soon as the two ships were separated the Shannon started for Halifax
with her prize, where she arrived on the 7th of June. Captain Lawrence
died on the 6th, and his body, wrapped in the flag of the Chesapeake,
lay upon the quarter-deck of his ship. There was great rejoicing at
Halifax, and the men-of-war then in port manned their yards and fired
a salute in honor of the conqueror. There was immense joy in England,
which was manifested by public meetings, bonfires, and illuminations.
Captain Broke was treated as a hero; the freedom of the city of London,
and a sword valued at five hundred dollars, were presented to him, and
he was knighted by the Prince Regent. He received compliments from
every quarter, and the inhabitants of his native county gave him an
immense silver plate as a testimonial of their appreciation of what he
had done.
I must not forget to say that the most profound respect was paid to the
remains of Captain Lawrence when the ships reached Halifax, and also
to those of Lieutenant Ludlow, who died there within a week after their
arrival. The garrison furnished a funeral party from the Sixty-fourth
Regiment, and the navy also furnished one. At the hour appointed for
the funeral the body was taken in a boat from the Chesapeake to the
King's Wharf, where it was received by the military under the commander
of the garrison. The officers of the Chesapeake followed the body as
mourners, and the officers of the British navy were also in attendance.
There was great depression in the United States over the loss of the
Chesapeake, as the almost uninterrupted success of the navy thus far
had made the Americans believe that it was invincible. The same idea
was beginning to prevail among the British; hence the great elation of
the latter, and the corresponding depression of the former. Happily,
the feeling of depression among the Americans soon passed away, as
it was seen that all the circumstances were very unfavorable to the
Chesapeake, and it was not likely that such a misfortune would occur
again.
Having followed the Chesapeake through her unlucky career, which ended
with her capture by the Shannon, we will now go back to where Haines
began the story of his experience as a man-of-war's man.
The embargo of 1807 was then in force, but there was a great pressure
on the government for its withdrawal, and on the 1st of March, 1809, it
was repealed. Meantime I went on another voyage to China as second mate
of the Aurora, the ship on which I had formerly sailed as a foremast
hand. Haines accompanied me, and we had no experiences out of the
ordinary run on the entire voyage.
Yes, we had one experience that I ought to mention; we were overhauled
by a British man-of-war in the South Atlantic Ocean, and compelled to
submit to a search for British deserters. Several times during the
voyage we saw men-of-war, and ran away from them, but this one caught
us when we were becalmed, having sailed close to us during the night,
while we were enveloped in a fog. When the fog lifted the wind had gone
down, and we lay helpless, within easy range of her cannon.
She sent a boat on board, and the officer who came in it was inclined
to take away two of our crew, alleging that they were Englishmen. They
showed their protection papers, which set forth that they were American
citizens. The lieutenant was about to disregard these when our captain
told him that, if he took those men away, the case would be reported to
the American government, and he added, "I will spend every dollar that
I possess to see that justice is secured. These men are Americans, and
I have known them both from their boyhood. If you take them from this
ship you will find that they are not without friends."
I expected that this would only make the lieutenant more determined to
carry the men away, but to my surprise he yielded, and said he would
go back to his ship for instructions. He went, and just as he did
so a breeze came up, and we speedily drifted out of gun-shot of the
British ship. As they did not try to follow us I presume they were not
specially in need of men at that time. If they had been short-handed
there is little likelihood that they would have hesitated.
To show you how impressed seamen were treated on board British
ships-of-war let me give you the testimony of two men, both natives of
Ulster County, New York State. One of them, Richard Thompson, testified
that he was impressed on board the British ship-of-war Peacock, in
1810, and he was not allowed to write to his friends. When he and two
other impressed American seamen heard of the declaration of war they
claimed to be considered prisoners of war, and refused to do duty any
longer.
They were ordered to the quarter-deck, put in irons for twenty-four
hours, then taken to the gangway, stripped naked, tied, and whipped.
Each one received eighteen lashes, and was then put to duty. When the
Peacock went into action with the Hornet they asked the captain to send
them below, so that they might not fight against their countrymen. The
captain called a midshipman and told him to hold a pistol at Thompson's
head, and blow his brains out if he and his companions did not do
service. They were liberated on the capture of the Peacock by the
Hornet.
The other man from Ulster County was named James Tompkins, and was
impressed, with three others, on the British ship Acteon, in April,
1812. When they refused to do duty they were whipped, five dozen lashes
each; two days afterwards they received four dozen lashes each. They
still refused, and after being whipped again they were put in irons,
where they were kept three months.
When they arrived in London they heard of the capture of the Guerrière
by the Constitution. They made the American colors out of a shirt and
handkerchief, then hung it over a gun, and gave three cheers for the
victory. For displaying their patriotism in this way they received two
dozen lashes each.
Great Britain always claimed that she was entitled to take from
American vessels on the high seas any of her own subjects voluntarily
serving on American craft, but she constantly gave as a reason for
not discharging from her service any American citizens, that they
had voluntarily engaged in it. She used to take her own subjects from
the American service, although they had been settled and married and
naturalized in the United States; but at the same time she constantly
refused to release from her ships American seamen who had been pressed
into it, whenever she could give as a reason that they were settled and
married in her dominions. In other words, when marriage or residence
could be pleaded in her favor, she availed herself of the plea. When
marriage, residence, and naturalization were against her, she paid no
respect whatever to the plea.
I made several coasting voyages, and also another voyage to China;
the last time as first mate of a ship as large as the Aurora. When I
came home from this voyage to China, in the latter part of 1811, the
owners of the ship expressed themselves as entirely satisfied with my
services, and said they should give me command of a ship as soon as
possible. The reader can imagine my elation at this news. I wanted to
go away somewhere alone and call myself captain, just to see how it
would sound; and, as good luck would have it, on that very day when
I was notified of my promotion, my friend David arrived in port and
received the same information. We congratulated each other, and then
proceeded to find Haines and Herne, and tell them of the good news.
Not only did we tell them of our promotion, but we notified each of
them that we wanted him to go with us whenever we went to sea, Haines
on my ship and Herne on David's--no, stop a moment! Mr. Haines on
Captain Crane's ship, and Mr. Herne on Captain Taylor's, as we intended
to make officers of them.
My promotion to the rank of captain was not of as much importance as
it might have been, owing to circumstances which were quite out of my
control. American commerce was paralyzed by the state of affairs then
prevailing. British insults to our flag continued; British war-vessels
were numerous on our coast; and the impressment of American sailors
under the pretense that they were deserters from the British service
were of almost daily occurrence. Things were rapidly growing from bad
to worse, and war between the two countries seemed inevitable.
I was a captain without a command, as the vessel to which I had been
assigned was lying in port with no prospect of employment. This
continued for some time, when one day I was summoned to report at
once at the office of my employers. I realized the importance of the
summons when I learned that four messengers had been sent out to look
for me, with instructions to say that not a moment was to be lost in my
responding to the call.
I walked rapidly, no, I ran, till I reached the office, wondering what
it could be for which my presence was so imperatively demanded.
One of the owners of the Aurora was in the office, and he immediately
took me to his private room, out of hearing of the clerks. After
closing the door, he said,--
"How long will it take you to get ready for sea?"
"As for myself," I answered, "not over an hour; for my vessel I
couldn't say till I know the kind of service expected."
"Well," he replied, "we have news from Washington that war with Great
Britain is inevitable. Events are leading up to it very rapidly, and
it is liable to come at any moment. Now, we want to fit out some
privateers and have them ready to take the sea the moment war is
declared. We want you to command one of them, and your friend Taylor
can have another. Will you tell him so as soon as you see him?"
"Certainly I will; and as to fitting out, I will proceed about it at
once, whenever you name the ship I'm to command."
"That's all right," he said; "but we want you to act as secretly as
possible, so as to get the start of our rivals as much as we can. Those
who are first at sea when the war breaks out will have the best of the
harvest in prizes."
"Certainly, sir; I understand. With your permission I'll think the
matter over to-night, and come to you to-morrow with my plans. I
suppose I am to get the powder, guns, and all other things necessary
for equipment and stores, and the firm will pay for them?"
"Certainly; but our name must be kept out of sight, or it will be a
hint to our rivals in business to follow our example, and that's what
we want to avoid."
Then he meditated a moment, and I remained silent, waiting for him to
speak. When his meditations were concluded, he said,--
"You will have command of the Baltimore clipper Marguerite; she is
lying at Jones's wharf on the East River, and right alongside of her
is the Hyacinth, which we shall give to Captain Taylor. Before you
leave the office I will give you the builder's plans of both vessels,
so that you will hardly need to make any measurements when you go to
look at them. Just stroll around carelessly and look at the two vessels
as closely as you can, but don't use any measuring lines or rods when
anybody is in sight, or do anything to show that you have been drawn
there except by idle curiosity. If you want to measure anything, you
and Taylor can pretend to get into a dispute about it, and then measure
to decide the difference between you. I will look for you here some
time in the forenoon to-morrow."
This ended our conversation, and I hurried away to find David and tell
him of his new prospects in life. I was lucky in finding him at once,
and asked him to take a stroll with me while we had a friendly chat.
Soon as we were out of earshot of everybody I told him what the reader
already knows. There was still time before sunset for visiting Jones's
wharf, and so we walked in that direction.
We found the two clippers tied up as the owner had indicated. We
sauntered carelessly around, visiting two or three other embargoed
craft before we stepped on board the Marguerite. I'm sure we displayed
no more interest in them than in other vessels in the vicinity, and
our actions could not arouse anybody's suspicions. Several sailors and
longshore-men were idling about; some of them were known to us, and
we greeted them after the customary manner, making no effort to avoid
them. While we were there we met a young captain of our acquaintance;
at first he manifested a disposition to join us just for the sake of
passing away the time, and we feared that he would not be easily shaken
off. Happily, he inquired for another captain who was known to all of
us, and whom we had just left at our boarding-house.
"You'll find him down at the Neptune," said David; "when we left he was
wishing a friend would happen in, as he felt lonesome."
"I guess I'll go down and see him;" responded our friend. He suited the
action to the word and went away, greatly to our satisfaction.
We looked the vessels over with great care, and made up our minds what
was wanted. Each of them would carry three guns on a side, and a long
gun amidships, and there was abundant room for crew and stores. The
running and standing riggings were in good condition, and the sails
were nearly new. The vessels were all ready for sea when the embargo of
April (1812) was enacted by Congress, and consequently there was very
little to be done in the way of fitting out.
We lingered as long as we dared around the two clippers, and then
returned to the Neptune, though not directly. There was a riddle to
be solved that bothered us a good deal, but finally I hit upon what I
considered a fair solution of it.
CHAPTER XV.
FITTING FOR SEA.--WAR DECLARED.--OUT ON A CRUISE.--MY FIRST
PRIZE.--OLD FRIENDS.
"We'll ship a crew for each of these craft," said I, "a small crew,
just enough for inland navigation, and we'll have three or four
carpenters in each crew in addition. First one of us and then the other
will get off up the North River; we're going to Albany, or anywhere
else, for cargoes for New York, and we're working for small wages
rather than lie idle. We'll use Haines and Herne to get our crews
together, but won't take them into our secret at all, as there's no
occasion to do so.
"When we're on the North River we can haul up here and there for want
of pilots or wind, or for any other reason that can be alleged, and
that will give time for the carpenters to do what work is required to
fit the clippers for their guns, and fix up quarters for the crew. An
agent of the owners will go to one of the foundries at Troy or Hudson,
or some other point,--perhaps he'd better go to two of them,--and
negotiate for the guns, which we are to bring down as freight. They
should have carriages and all equipments complete, with the exception
of the tackles, which we'll get in New York. We can take in most of our
stores up the river, and get so nearly ready that we can go to sea at
very short notice. All that will be needed will be to ship the balance
of the crew, and there won't be any lack of men when war breaks out."
David approved my plan, and so did the owners of the two schooners when
we called on them the next day. It was carried out in nearly all its
details during the latter part of the month of May and the first week
of June. The schooners dawdled along the North River under all sorts of
pretexts; on the 10th of June they had returned as far as the upper end
of Manhattan Island, and anchored on the flats at the farther side of
the great stream that forms the chief inland waterway of New York.
Haines was my third mate, while Herne filled the same position with
David. Our first and second mates were trusty men selected by the
owners; they understood the business we were about to a certain extent,
in fact, they were too intelligent not to suspect something; but they
could both "stow their jaws" when occasion offered, and certainly this
was an occasion. They had been told to mind their own business and say
nothing, and they carried out their orders to the letter.
David and I left our craft at their anchorage in charge of the mates,
and came in a sailboat to the city; we went straight to the office of
the owners, and were taken to the inner room immediately.
"Great things are happening," said the member of the firm to whom I
have already referred; "our agent at Washington says war is absolutely
certain within a fortnight. On the 1st of June, President Madison sent
a message to Congress in which he went over the difficulties with Great
Britain, pointing out the numerous insults and aggressions of that
power upon us, and clearly showed the necessity of war. The message was
referred to the Committee on Foreign Relations, and on the 3d of June,
a majority of the Committee agreed upon a manifesto and reported it as
a basis of a declaration of war. The next day (June 4), a bill which
was drawn by Mr. Pinkney, the Attorney-General of the United States,
declaring war to exist between the two countries, and was presented to
the House of Representatives by Mr. Calhoun. Congress is now debating
the subject with closed doors, but it is known that there is a majority
in both Houses in favor of war, and the President will sign the bill as
soon as it is passed."
This was great, though not altogether unexpected, news, and I'm sure
that as David and I looked at each other there were expressions of
astonishment on our faces.
"We have relays of horses and riders between here and Washington," the
gentleman continued, "and will have the news of the declaration of war
as soon as any one can get it, and probably ahead of any one else. Our
agent at Washington is sufficiently near the President to obtain his
signature to your commissions immediately, so that you will not be
delayed in getting to sea, and going to work on the enemy's commerce."
Then he told us that a sloop loaded with all the supplies we wanted
to complete our outfit would meet us at our anchorage, and that the
men to fill out the crews were being engaged at one of the shipping
offices close at hand. One member of the firm remained constantly at
Paulus Hook, which is on the shore of New Jersey, opposite New York, to
receive messages from Washington, and as soon as it was known that a
state of war existed we would be notified.
Well, the bill declaring war passed the lower House of Congress by a
vote of seventy-nine to forty-nine. On the 17th it passed the Senate by
a vote of nineteen to thirteen, and on the same day it was signed by
the President. On the 19th of June Mr. Madison issued a proclamation
which formally declared war against Great Britain, the second war of
the United States for its independence.
The Revolution of 1776 began the struggle; but the object was
not accomplished till the War of 1812 had put an end to British
interference with our commerce, and the impressment of our citizens
into British service. Protests and complaints were without effect;
not only were adopted citizens of the United States taken to serve
on British ships or in the army, but many native-born Americans were
impressed to do duty under a flag which was not their own. Great
Britain claimed that no subject could become an alien; "once a Briton
always a Briton" was her motto. Our laws gave equal protection to the
native and the adopted citizen, and therefore we stood by the Briton
who chose to become a citizen with us, and had taken the necessary
steps in that direction.
Less than an hour after affixing his signature to the bill of Congress
declaring war with Great Britain, the President signed the commission
which allowed David Taylor and John Crane, commanding the Hyacinth and
the Marguerite, to prey upon British commerce. The commissions were
brought by the messengers that bore the news of the declaration of war,
and they were not long in reaching us after their arrival at Paulus
Hook.
All our stores were on board, and all our arms and powder. The guns
were in their places; the extra carpenters who had been retained on
board under pay, in order to prevent their telling what we were about,
were discharged and put ashore; and the complement of the crew was
taken on at the anchorage to which we dropped down off the Battery.
Everything was done so quickly that we were at sea before the news of
the declaration of war was generally known in New York.
I steered away to the eastward, while David took a southerly course.
Before we separated we made a small wager as to who should take the
first prize. He was in search of vessels plying between England and the
West Indies; while I wanted those whose course was to or from Halifax.
At daylight, on my third morning at sea, a sail was reported on the
starboard bow. I scanned her through my glass, concluded she was what I
wanted, and ordered all sail to be cracked on in her direction.
The stranger did not change her course at all. She was a full-rigged
ship, much larger than the Marguerite, and evidently a merchantman. We
hung out the American flag, but she did not respond to the courtesy;
it was manifest that her captain did not consider it worth his while
to display his colors to such an insignificant craft as an American
schooner.
We could out-sail and out-maneuver the stranger. By my orders we ranged
up abreast of her so as to have the weather gauge, and when within
hailing distance, I called out,--
"What ship is that?"
For fully a minute there was no answer, and then came the words,--
"What ship is that?"
This was a bit of impudence that angered and, at the same time, amused
me. I held my temper and responded,--
"The American privateer, Marguerite. Heave to, or I'll fire into you!"
There was no response, either by word or action. The ship held on her
course, and the Marguerite held to hers; but all the time she drew
nearer the stranger, till the vessels were not more than a hundred
yards apart. Then I ordered a blank shot to be fired across her bow; as
she did not stop at this warning, we fired a shotted gun in the same
direction.
Still she kept on; and then I gave orders in a loud voice to make ready
for a broadside.
This brought the captain of the stranger to his senses. The English
flag went fluttering to its place, the sails were hove aback, and a
hoarse voice hailed, and asked what we wanted.
"Send a boat on board!" was all the answer I chose to give. My men were
at their guns, everything was ready for action, and what was more,
the state of affairs on board the Marguerite was plainly discernible
from the decks of the stranger. Her captain had probably reached the
conclusion that any further discourtesy on his part would be followed
by an order to fire.
There was a light sea running, but it was not enough to make the
launching of a boat at all dangerous. In a quarter of an hour a boat
came from the strange vessel, bringing her first officer, who mounted
to our deck and was met by me at the gangway. With an air of offended
dignity, he announced that the ship was the Camperdown of London,
for Halifax, and then asked, with still more offended dignity in his
manner,--
"What is the meaning of this?"
"It means," I answered, "that the United States Government has declared
war against Great Britain, and the Camperdown is the prize of the
United States schooner Marguerite, a privateer commanded by Captain
John Crane."
"When was war declared?" he asked, his manner changing to one of
surprise, although it was by no means bereft of its haughtiness.
"On the 19th of June," I replied. "The Marguerite was ready for sea,
and sailed immediately. Come aft," I added in a more friendly tone,
"for I began to pity the fellow, and I will show you the announcement
of the declaration, and also my commission, to prove that you are not
being imposed upon."
He accompanied me to the cabin, and I showed him the papers that
convinced him of the actual state of war between the two countries. As
soon as he examined them he returned on board his ship, and the captain
of the Camperdown came to make a formal surrender of his vessel.
Resistance was useless, as she had only two small guns for signaling
purposes, to oppose to our seven large guns, and a crew ready for
battle, and considerably outnumbering hers.
"We have been driven out of our course by contrary winds," said the
captain, "or you would not have found us here."
"But I might have found you farther to the north," I replied, "as it
was my intention to run in that direction till I should be on the track
of vessels from England to Nova Scotia and Newfoundland."
Then, by way of consolation, I expressed my opinion that it was a great
hardship that a declaration of war carried with it the right to make
prizes of an enemy's ships on the sea the moment the declaration was
made.
"It seems to me," said I, "that it would be only fair and right that
there should be a limit of time to enable all who are afloat to reach a
safe harbor. But we must take law and custom as we find them, not as
we think they should be, and therefore the Camperdown is the prize of
the Marguerite."
The English captain acquiesced in my views; in fact, it was not easy
for him to do otherwise, and then we proceeded to the arrangement for
the transfer of the property from its former to its new holders.
The prize I had taken was a valuable one. The ship was nearly new, and
was named after the town in Holland where Admiral Duncan (afterwards
Viscount of Camperdown) gained his great victory over the Dutch in
1797. She had an assorted cargo of goods intended for the colonies, and
of the very kind that would be marketable in the United States; and in
addition to the goods, she had about thirty thousand dollars worth of
British gold and silver coin. I was very well satisfied with my prize,
and it is unnecessary to state that my crew was elated at our success,
though many of them were disappointed that we had gained our victory
without a fight.
"Never mind, my lads," said the mate, when he overheard some of the men
murmuring; "you'll get your stomachs full of fighting before the war is
over."
The captain of the Camperdown said he had twelve passengers on board,
including two British officers with their families and servants, and
two civilian passengers. It had been arranged that the crew would be
transferred to the Marguerite and detained in the hold as prisoners,
their place being taken by a prize-crew from the schooner to work
the Camperdown into New York. The officers of the ship would also be
prisoners, according to the rules of war, but what should be done with
the passengers?
"They will be more comfortable on board the ship," I suggested, "than
in our restricted quarters here. They can remain there on condition
that the gentlemen give their parole of honor not to take part in or
countenance any effort to retake the ship."
"I'm sure they will readily agree to that," replied the captain; "they
are gentlemen in every sense of the word, and nothing more need be said
on that point."
My second mate went with a prize-crew to take charge of the prize,
and as rapidly as it could be done the crew of the Camperdown was
transferred to the Marguerite and confined below. After the transfers
had been completed, I went on board the ship to see the passengers and
take the paroles, which they had sent word they would readily give on
condition of being allowed to remain on the ship.
As I stepped on the deck of the ship, I heard expressions of
astonishment in feminine tones; as I turned my attention in the
direction of the sounds, there was occasion for me to show
astonishment too. In the group of passengers near the entrance of the
after cabin was Captain Graham with his wife and two daughters.
Under the circumstances, they were just at that moment very glad to see
me; in fact, they were far more willing to be captives in my hands than
in those of a total stranger. We had a cordial greeting on both sides,
and I was introduced to their fellow-passengers.
"There will be no difficulty about your paroles," I said with a smile,
as soon as the formalities were over; "and I will see that your private
property is carefully respected." Then, after a little conversation
referring to their personal comfort on the way to New York, I went to
the cabin and wrote a letter to the owners of the Marguerite, telling
briefly how and where I had known the Graham family, and asking that
every possible courtesy be shown to them on my account.
I had no opportunity for a chat with Mrs. Graham and her daughters,
and it was much to my disappointment that I felt obliged to shorten my
stay on board. Mrs. Graham asked for Haines; and on learning that he
was my third mate on the Marguerite, she expressed such a desire to see
him that I hailed the schooner, and told him to come aboard the ship
immediately.
He came, and was as much surprised as I had been at meeting the Graham
family. He blushed as much as it was possible for a sun-browned face
like his to blush, and his manner was decidedly awkward. He remained
only a few moments, leaving the ship shortly before I did, and taking
with him the second mate of the Camperdown, who had been supervising
the transfer of the crew.
When it came my turn to go I had a hearty farewell from my old friends,
whom I especially commended to my second mate, and in their hearing
instructed him to see that they were well cared for during the voyage,
and promptly landed on reaching New York. Hardly had I cast off from
the ship before she filled away on her course for New York, bearing
proudly aloft the "Stars and Stripes," and below our national banner
the Red Cross of St. George.
My crew gave three cheers as the Camperdown sailed away; and then we
turned our attention to the horizon, which we scanned in search of
other possible prizes.
Nothing was in sight, and so I ordered the men to be drilled at the
guns. In fact, they had been drilled pretty constantly ever since they
came on board; there were enough man-o'-war's-men on board to give the
necessary instructions to the rest, and I was surprised and pleased at
the quickness with which they became proficient in their duties. At
the time we met the Camperdown, and the men were beaten to quarters,
they stood in their places like veterans; and I am confident they would
have given an excellent account of themselves if it had been necessary
to fight a battle.
Towards nightfall we sighted a sail on the larboard bow, and
made in its direction; but darkness came on before we had got
within signaling-distance. As well as we could make out she was a
fishing-schooner, and, if so, would be of no great value as a prize,
though of sufficient consequence to be taken and sent to port,
provided, of course, she was British in nationality.
The next morning the sail was nowhere to be seen. She had changed her
course in the night, and disappeared, but whether through any fear of
us or not we were unable to say.
Soon after breakfast Haines came aft, and reported to me that several
of the prisoners were ready to swear allegiance to the American flag,
and wanted to be allowed to go to work with the crew, instead of being
confined below. That they should prefer the deck to the hold was no
more than natural, and I told Haines to bring them aft and I would talk
with them.
"There are ten or twelve of them, sir," said Haines; "shall I bring
them all at once?"
"No," I answered; "you may bring four of them: they will be enough for
the present."
In due time Haines came with four of the prisoners. I had my suspicions
concerning them, but endeavored to appear utterly unsuspecting as I
questioned them.
CHAPTER XVI.
A CONSPIRACY, AND HOW IT WAS DEFEATED.--ANOTHER PRIZE.--VIEWS ON
PRIVATEERING.--A CARTEL.--IN THE JAWS OF A BRITISH MAN-OF-WAR.
The reasons that the men gave for wishing to swear allegiance to the
American flag and be released from confinement in the hold were simple
and plausible enough. They wanted to become American citizens, had
intended to do so at the first opportunity, and now that there was war
between the two countries, they would like a chance for prize-money.
It struck me as a little odd that they were all Englishmen; had there
been an Irishman or two among them it would have been less suspicious,
as a goodly portion of the inhabitants of the Emerald Isle entertained
feelings for the British flag which were anything but respectful. But
the four were English; and so, according to Haines, were all the others
who had manifested their willingness to throw off British allegiance,
become citizens of the new republic of the Western world, and take up
arms against the country of their birth.
I told them I would consider their proposal, and let them know later
in the day. Meanwhile, they were to give Haines a list of such as were
willing to join them in becoming Americans, and he would report it to
me.
Two or three hours later Haines brought me the names of twelve
Englishmen who were ready to declare war against their native land, and
on the conditions already stated. I told him to bring to my cabin four
of these men, some I had not yet seen, and while I was busy talking
with them, to suddenly ask me to come on deck for a moment. While he
was gone I shut up in the linen-locker, just off the cabin, a bright
young boy from Maine, named Tom Foster, with orders to keep as quiet
as a mouse, and take in all the conversation during my absence. He was
just fairly stowed away when Haines came with the men.
I talked with them as I did with the others, and was giving them
the impression that their request would be granted, when we were
interrupted by Haines, who appeared and said,--
"Will you please come on deck for a few moments, sir?"
I told the men I would be back again in five or ten minutes, and then
left them.
When I returned, having been gone fully ten minutes, the men were in
the attitude of waiting, and did not appear as though they had spoken
a word during my absence. I talked with them a little while longer and
then sent them forward with the same answer I had given the others.
When they were gone I released Tom from his confinement; he came out
very red and hot from the bad air that he was obliged to breathe in the
poorly ventilated locker, and it was a minute at the least before he
could speak coherently.
"Soon as you was gone, sir," said Tom, "they tried the doors and looked
into all the rooms, to make sure nobody could hear what they said. They
weren't suspicious of the linen-locker bein' fastened, as it wasn't a
place for a man to be shut up in, and was even a tight fit for such a
little fellow as me.
"Then one of 'em says to the others, 'It's all right, mates, and we'll
have this Yankee schooner afore to-morrow morning. The captain is goin'
to let us out to swear allegiance to his blarsted flag, and when we're
out we'll show him a trick he won't understand till it's too late.'
"Then another of 'em says, 'The Yankee'll think he's gone crazy when he
finds himself a-goin' into Halifax with the British flag atop of his
own, won't he, Bill?'
"'Ay, that he will,' says Bill; and then they said something I couldn't
understand, they spoke so low; and after that 'twasn't long before you
came back to talk with 'em, sir."
Thus was their plot revealed, and it was just as I had suspected. A
portion of the crew would get the liberty of the deck in the manner
indicated; then, at a moment agreed upon and understood by the rest of
their party, the deck-watch would be overpowered, and simultaneously
the hatches were to be opened, and those below would come pouring out
to aid in the execution of the plot.
"Keep your mouth shut, Tommy," I said to the boy, "and don't breathe a
word of this to anybody. Now go and tell Mr. Haines I want to see him."
When Haines came, I told him to say to the prisoners who had proposed
to become Americans, that they could do so as soon as we reached
New York, or any other port of the United States. I would keep the
list they had given me, and hand it over to the proper authorities
immediately after our arrival.
Then I instructed Haines to maintain the utmost vigilance, as there was
a plot to capture the schooner; but he must not let the prisoners know
that anything was suspected.
"Ay, ay, sir!" said the old sailor, as he went away to execute his
orders. I felt that it could be safely said that there was little
opportunity for our prisoners to carry out their scheme as long as they
were on board the Marguerite and Haines was looking after them.
A little past noon a sail was reported on the lee bow. We changed our
course at once, and ran down to her. She did not try to get away from
us, and her captain was very much surprised when he found out that
there was war between Great Britain and the United States. He had
believed that it was impossible to "kick the Yankees into war;" they
had endured so many insults at the hands of the British, he thought
they would go on the same way forever.
"You know the old adage about the last straw that breaks the camel's
back, do you not?" I asked, when he paused.
"Certainly I do," he answered; "and I suppose you found the last straw
before you made up your minds to fight. Great Britain would not have
endured for a day what you've been putting up with for years; and I've
heard English officers say so more than once. But do you think this
privateering business is right?"
"Of course I do, or I wouldn't be in it."
"I don't think it right," he answered, "and I'll tell you why. It is
nothing more than piracy, and all captures ought to be made by regular
ships-of-war. That's my opinion."
"What difference does it make," I retorted, "whether your vessel is a
prize to a seventy-four-gun man-of-war, or a privateer like this? You
lose it in either case, and that's all there is about it. Armies are
formed of, and navies are manned by, individuals; and what difference
does it make as to their way of fighting, as long as they fight? Peace
is brought about by the distress of the people of the nations at war,
and a nation is made up of individuals, no matter whether it be a
republic or a kingdom. My idea is, that when two commercial countries
are at war, they should give every encouragement to private parties to
capture as many of the enemy's ships as possible, and bring the war to
an end much sooner."
"That may be all right from your point of view," he answered, "but it
isn't from mine. Great Britain has more than a thousand ships-of-war
in her navy, and you haven't more than twenty. It costs our nation
a vast deal of money to keep a thousand ships in service, and this
privateering doesn't cost your government anything. You keep a navy of
no account whatever in time of peace, but when war comes you turn every
mud-scow into a privateer, and send her out to capture British ships. I
insist that it isn't fair!"
I thought I would let him have the last word, and so changed the
subject of the conversation. His vessel was a brig of about three
hundred tons burden, and loaded with goods for the Canadian market;
it was a very fair prize for us, but far from equal in value to the
Camperdown.
The crew of the brig was transferred to the Marguerite, and placed in
the hold with the prisoners already there. I put Haines in command,
with a prize-crew, with orders to make the best possible way to New
York; with Haines I sent a young fellow named Jackson, who had shipped
as an able seaman, but was capable of filling a higher position, as he
had been on the sea some eight or ten years, understood navigation, and
could work out a ship's position as well as the next man. I promised
him promotion as soon as there was a place for him; and in return he
declared he would give a good account of himself on the voyage to New
York.
The next morning we overhauled a fishing-schooner. She had just come
out of one of the Canadian ports, and had only caught a few barrels
of fish before we came upon her. What she had on board was of little
account in the way of a prize, and the vessel was old, and not the most
seaworthy craft in the world. As we were inconveniently crowded with
prisoners, I decided to convert the fishing-schooner into a cartel,
and send her into Halifax. She answered the conditions of a cartel, or
what the French call a _bâtiment parlementaire_, as she had no cargo,
ammunition, or implement of war on board, and could not possibly do any
harm.
As quickly as it could be done I had the prisoners transferred to the
fisherman. We were careful not to have many of them on deck at once;
and if they had made plans for an uprising during the confusion of the
transfer, there was no opportunity to carry them out. We took on board
most of the fish we found on the schooner, and left her a fair supply
of salt provisions, together with all the fish contained in that part
of the ocean. The vessel was a dull sailer; and this was all the better
for my purpose, as I didn't want her to reach Halifax in a hurry. The
prisoners were glad enough at the prospect of thus being liberated,
with the possible exception of some of those who meditated the capture
of the Marguerite, and her conversion into a prize for themselves.
After dropping the fishing-schooner we steered away to the East, and
were lucky enough the next morning to make prize of another British
vessel, a bark of about four hundred tons, and containing a valuable
cargo of military and naval stores. She was a chartered transport;
that is, she was a private craft, employed by the British authorities
for conveying government property, and she carried ten or twelve
passengers, all of them officers in his Majesty's service, or their
families.
I treated these passengers in the same way I did those of the
Camperdown, allowing them to remain on board on condition of giving
their parole not to countenance any movement for the recapture of
the vessel. The crew was transferred to the Marguerite, and when
the prize-crew under my first mate went on board the stranger, I
found myself without a commissioned officer on board, and decidedly
short-handed. So I decided to accompany the prize to New York, and give
up looking for any more of the enemy's ships; if anything fell in my
way I would attend to it, but as for continuing on the aggressive, and
going farther from port, I was in no condition to do so.
It was arranged that the two vessels were to keep close together,
unless separated by bad weather, in which case the prize would steer as
straight as possible for port, and I would do likewise.
All went well with us until we sighted the coast of Long Island, forty
or fifty miles from New York. We had seen several sail, but too far
away to make them out distinctly; they had not sought to make our
acquaintance, and we had avoided theirs, as there would have been a
loss of time in trying to speak to them, and the chances were that they
would be of our own nationality, and therefore valueless as prizes.
Soon after we sighted the coast, which lay like a low cloud on
the horizon, a large vessel loomed up ahead of us. I scanned her
anxiously, as there was a strong possibility that she was something I
didn't want to meet just then.
She might be American, and she might be British; the possibilities were
that she was British, as there was a British man-of-war on the coast
at the time war was declared, and she was large enough to carry not
fewer than forty guns. Very plainly, she would make short work of the
Marguerite if we ventured within her reach.
The strange ship was right on the track we wished to follow, and under
shortened sail, as though waiting for us. I signaled my prize that I
wanted to speak her. We drew closer together, at the same time holding
to our course, but ready to change as soon as we should find that the
stranger was a British man-of-war.
I had no fear of being overhauled in the Marguerite, as she was a very
fast sailer, and could show her heels to any English frigate afloat;
but there was much doubt as to the ability of my prize to keep out of
harm's way. Therefore I decided that while I would keep the schooner on
for New York, it would be best to make sure of the safety of the prize
by sending her elsewhere.
When she was within hailing distance, I gave orders for her to go
around the eastern end of Long Island, and make for New York that
way, or for one of the ports on the sound. "Go into Stonington or New
London," I said, "if you must; but if you find it all safe to keep on
through the Sound and reach New York by the East River, do so by all
means. Make New York if you can; but if not, go into a port on the
Sound and wait for orders."
The prize filled away to the eastward as soon as my commands had been
received; I kept on in the direction of New York, gradually hauling
away from the land in order to give the stranger a wide berth, and also
to see if he would follow me.
He followed, or, rather, he changed his course, so as to bring him
within range, and that was just what I intended he should not do. There
was a good breeze blowing from the south-west. I ran to the south-east,
so as to bring the wind just abeam, and in this way keep out of the way
of the strange vessel, and also showed him what the Marguerite could
do in the way of sailing. We put on all the canvas she could carry;
and she lay over so that her gun ports on the lee side were awash very
often.
We held on till darkness hid pursuer and pursued from each other. Just
after nightfall the wind shifted to the south-east, and this gave
me what I wanted for running to New York. So I changed my course,
endeavoring, as nearly as I could calculate, to hit the entrance
of the harbor about daybreak. What my pursuer would do I could only
conjecture; in an emergency of this sort the best plan always is
to think carefully what you would do under the circumstances, and
following this plan, I reasoned about like this:--
"I am trying to cut off and capture a fast sailing schooner which is
trying to get into New York. My ship is powerful enough to blow her
out of the water in five minutes if it could only get in range of the
schooner, but she can sail faster than I can, and it is no use to run
after her. She'll probably try to run in under cover of the night. I'll
go in as near as I can to the shore, and watch for her there."
Reasoning in this way I made up my mind that the frigate, or whatever
else she was, would be lying off the coast of Long Island, near the
entrance of the harbor. What I wanted was to get close in before the
first streaks of day, else I might have to run under the guns of the
Britisher while going inside.
The wind fell a little towards morning, and, what added to my
annoyance, a mist spread over the water, so that it was impossible to
see far in any direction. So I had to feel my way along; and as soon
as we reached soundings I kept the lead going constantly. For the
last two hours before daylight I felt entirely certain of my position.
We were running along near the Jersey coast in the direction of Sandy
Hook, and if no accident happened we would get inside before the enemy
could discover us.
The first streaks of dawn were just visible in the east when the
soundings showed that we were shoaling rapidly, and it was necessary
to haul over to the north-west. While we were doing so the mist on our
starboard began to lift a little and show what was behind it. And the
first object that it revealed was not by any means a welcome sight.
Five or six hundred yards away, our pursuer of the previous day was
lying with her broadside towards us, and her guns out; we were just
about abeam of her when we made the discovery, and at once I gave
orders to hold more to the westward again. It is better, I thought, to
risk taking the ground than the shot of the fellow that is ready to
pour it into us. We may get ashore and get off again; but it will be
all up with us if he once has us within short range of his guns.
Being smaller than the other vessel, and also probably from not being
between him and the sun, it was some minutes after we saw him before
he saw us. He sent a shot across our bow, and another and another
directly at us, but fortunately we were not struck. In all he must have
fired fifteen or twenty shots, not one of them reaching us.
All the time we were forging ahead where he did not try to follow,
partly because he was so near the land as to be almost within range of
the defenses that had been hastily thrown up at the entrance of the
harbor, and partly because we would be far out of the way before he
could get in motion. His only hope was to cripple us by a fortunate
shot, and then he would send his boats to carry us by boarding.
CHAPTER XVII.
SAFE RETURN TO NEW YORK.--OFFER OF A NEW SHIP.--MY FRIENDS THE
GRAHAMS.--OFF AGAIN.--THE CONSTITUTION'S ESCAPE AND MINE.
Well, we are out of danger now, and safe inside the sheltering arms
of the harbor. As we turn the Hook, a pilot boards us. He is an old
acquaintance and friend, and gives me the warmest sort of a greeting.
"What's the news?" I ask with eagerness, as soon as the greetings and
congratulations are over.
"Dead loads of news!" he answers. "Two prizes from you are safe in
port, but the owners didn't look for you and the Marguerite as soon as
this. You've got another prize or two, I suppose, and find yourself
short-handed."
"That's it exactly," I replied; and then I told him about the cartel
and the last prize, and how I sent her to the Sound to avoid the risk
of falling into British hands again. "By the way, what is that British
ship which gave me such a run last night?" I asked.
"That is the Shannon, thirty-eight guns," he answered; "she's been
cruising off New York for the past week, and has already made several
prizes. One of them was the Nautilus, fourteen guns, which went out
with the intention of getting in the track of the East Indiamen, and
making some rich captures. But she ran into the Shannon, and so we lost
her."
I was sorry to hear this, partly because of the reduction of our naval
strength to that extent, and partly because of the connection of the
Nautilus with the fleet before Tripoli, when she did some excellent
work. I may remark, parenthetically, that the Nautilus was the first
vessel of war taken on either side, and her capture elated the British
in the same proportion that it depressed us.
"There was a fleet here almost ready to sail when I left," said I. "How
soon did they get to sea, and what have they done?"
"They got away within an hour after receiving the official proclamation
of war. There were the President, forty-four guns, Essex, thirty-two,
and Hornet, eighteen guns, under Commodore Rodgers; and they were
joined in the lower bay by the United States, forty-four, Congress,
thirty-eight, and Argus, sixteen, under Commodore Decatur. They went to
pick up some prizes out of the fleet of Jamaica-men that sailed under
convoy about that time, and ought to give some rich plunder."
The tide was unfavorable, and the wind became light; so I anchored
in the lower bay, or rather the pilot did, as he was now the man of
authority, and I was only a passenger. Towards noon the tide served,
and the wind became more kindly; so that we went up the bay in fine
style, and came to anchor off the Battery. My vanity was humbled a
little by the absence of the prize which I had sent round through the
Sound for safety; it would have added to my pride had I been able to
bring her in with me, with the Stars and Stripes floating above the
British ensign to tell exactly what she was. But I consoled myself with
the reflection that she was probably safe from recapture, while she
would have run great risk, and probably would have been lost, had I
kept her with me.
Soon as the anchor was down and the sails furled, I sent a messenger to
tell the owners of my arrival, and of the prize that had gone into the
Sound. I explained that I did not consider it judicious to go to the
office in person, as all my officers were absent in prizes, and I had
no one I could safely leave in charge of the Marguerite.
But my messenger had not reached the landing-place before one of the
owners arrived alongside, and immediately came on board. They had
already learned of our arrival by means of the semaphore, which
had been established quite recently for sending communications from
the lower bay to the city. It is a wonderful invention, and as simple
as it is wonderful. On the tops of towers four or five miles apart,
there are frames containing shutters, and the shutters are so arranged
that the combinations of their positions represent the letters of the
alphabet. In this way the name of a ship, or a message of any kind, can
be spelled out, and it is repeated from one tower to another along the
line. Of course, it can only work when the weather is clear, so that
the signals can be seen. A fog cuts it off completely; and it sometimes
happens that a fog comes up just in the middle of a very interesting
message.
[Illustration: THE CREW HAULED AWAY ON THE ROPE. Page 249.]
"You've done splendidly," said the gentleman, as soon as he had reached
the deck and grasped my hand. "Here you've been gone only fifteen days
and have sent in two first-rate prizes, besides the one that is coming
by the Sound. It is probably all safe, as there are no British vessels
there to trouble it when once it turns the eastern end of Long Island."
Before the day was over I heard that the prize was safe, word to that
effect having been brought down by a fishing-boat. The next day she
came through the dangerous channel of Hell Gate, and anchored in the
East River, where I visited her.
Of course, the crew of the Marguerite wanted to go on shore as soon as
they could get away. I called them together and asked how many wanted
to re-ship for the next cruise, which would begin just as soon as I
could refit and get away. Every man responded; and the owner told me
that those who had come in on the two prizes had already been secured.
It was arranged that they should be under pay while we remained in
port, one-half having liberty on shore, while the rest stayed on-board
and helped with the work that was to be done.
As soon as they learned of our arrival, my second and third mates
reported for duty, their prizes having been turned over to the owners
for condemnation and sale. In the afternoon I went ashore; and after
visiting the office and transacting some business there, I hastened to
the fashionable boarding-house on Broadway, just below Trinity Church,
where I understood the Graham family was staying.
I was most heartily welcomed by them; and when I told my story of what
had happened since they left me, Captain Graham said he congratulated
me as much as it was possible for a loyal Englishman to congratulate
his country's enemy. "Everybody has been very kind to us," he said,
"from the officers and crew that had us in charge, to the owners of
the Marguerite, to whom we gave your letter on our arrival. I am under
parole, and hope to be exchanged before long; but I find New York so
agreeable that I shall be sorry to leave it when the time comes to go
away."
"I like it very much too," said Mrs. Graham, as her husband paused. "We
go out walking every pleasant day, and find the Battery a delightful
place to loiter in. I never get tired of looking at the ships and boats
in the bay, and I don't wonder that the people who live here are so
fond of their city."
I accepted an invitation to remain, or rather to return for tea; and it
is needless to say that I had a very pleasant evening. By tacit consent
all allusion to the war was omitted, and we chatted upon various
topics, in which our recollections of the Washington had a prominent
place.
It was rather late in the evening when I returned to the Marguerite and
went to bed. While I was at breakfast the next morning a messenger came
with the request that I would go to the office of the owners as soon as
possible.
"We have a proposal to make to you for a new command," said the senior
member of the firm of owners, as soon as I entered the office.
I signified my readiness to listen to any offer they had to make, as I
felt sure it would be a good one.
"We were thinking of converting the Camperdown into a privateer," said
he, "by reducing her free-board so that she will sit low in the water.
She can easily carry twelve or fourteen guns, and a proportionately
larger crew than the Marguerite. We think that she will be a good
sailer with the alterations we propose; but there is the possible
chance that she will be injured rather than improved. What do you think
of the plan? We shall give the command of the new privateer to you in
case the change is made."
"At first thought it does not strike me favorably," I answered, "in
spite of the temptation it offers in giving me command of a larger
vessel than the Marguerite. The schooner is very fast and easily
handled; she is faster than the Camperdown, and can be brought about
more readily, which is often a very important thing at sea, especially
in time of war. For capturing merchant-ships, which is the object of
privateering, seven guns are as good as fourteen; now and then an armed
merchantman might surrender to the larger vessel when she would not to
the smaller one, but such cases are not numerous.
"Besides, sir," I continued, "you will excuse the suggestion, but I
know my crew regards the Marguerite as a lucky craft, and that goes a
long way in keeping up the spirits of the men during a cruise. They
believe she will win every time; and with this belief they will always
be ready to take any risk that I put upon them. Of course I have no
superstitions of the sort myself; but, all things being equal, I
prefer a lucky ship every time."
"Spoken like a man," said my employer; and then he asked what I would
advise under the circumstances.
"I would advise that the Camperdown be sold; probably the government
would pay a good price for her, and convert her into a cruiser. The
proceeds of the sale would buy and equip a privateer of the same grade
as the Marguerite, and probably less time would be lost in making
the sale and purchase than in altering the Camperdown in the manner
proposed."
He said they would think the matter over, and decide upon it as soon as
possible. Then came up the question of prize-money for the captures we
had made; and on this subject I received some important information.
The cargoes of the prizes had been sold in great part, but all the
goods could not find a ready market, except at a sacrifice, which was
not considered judicious. Congress had enacted a law regulating the
distribution of prize-money arising from captures by national vessels,
and my employer said the same rule, as far as practicable, would be
adopted by the owners of privateers. Here is the law as it relates to
captures by national vessels:--
"One-half of the prize-money goes to the National Government;
the other half is divided into twenty equal parts, and shall be
distributed in the following manner: to captains, three parts;
to lieutenants and sailing-masters, two parts; to the marine
officers, surgeons, pursers, gunners, carpenters, master's
mates, and chaplains, two parts; to midshipmen, surgeon's mates,
captain's clerks, schoolmasters, boatswain's mates, gunner's
mates, carpenter's mates, stewards, sailmakers, masters-at-arms,
cockswains, and armorers, three parts; to gunner's yeomen,
boatswain's yeomen, quartermasters, quarter-gunners, coopers,
sailmaker's mates, sergeants, and corporals of marine, drummers and
fifers, and extra petty officers, three parts; to seamen, ordinary
seamen, and boys, seven parts."
As he finished reading the new law he paused, and said, with a laugh,
that he thought it doubtful if I would have as many classes of men
for whom to make a distribution of prize money. I replied that it
was probably in order to give me a chance to have them that they had
proposed to convert the Camperdown into a privateer, and put her under
my command.
"That hardly corresponds to the account which a sailor once gave of the
way prize money is distributed," I remarked, at the first pause in the
conversation.
"How was that?"
"He said that when prize money is distributed, it is sifted through
a ladder; all that goes through is for the officers, while all that
sticks is for the men."
"I don't think I ever heard that before," he answered; and then the
conversation turned to the question of converting the Camperdown into
a privateer. In the course of our talk we were joined by the other
partners; and before the conference was over a representative of the
government called to ascertain when the Camperdown would be condemned
and sold. He added a hint that the government would purchase her at a
good price. I was introduced as the captor of the ship, and as soon as
the gentleman knew who I was, he advised me to hurry away and take more
prizes of the same sort.
In four days the Marguerite was ready for sea again; and it is hardly
necessary to say that she got away as soon as possible. As long as we
were in port I was a daily caller at the house where the Grahams were
staying. They always gave me a cordial welcome, and when I announced my
departure, Captain Graham said he was very sorry to have me go away,
partly because of my friendship for the family and my treatment of
them, and partly because he knew that British commerce was about to
suffer more depredations, unless my luck took a turn for the worse.
In the lower bay, when I reached it, there were two English vessels
that had just come in, their flags showing them to be prizes. We were
obliged to anchor, as the wind was unfavorable to our getting to sea
at once; and it so happened that we anchored within hailing distance
of one of them. I hailed her, and ascertained that both of the vessels
were prizes taken by the Hyacinth, Captain Taylor; and so I was able
before sailing to rejoice over the good luck of my old comrade.
Then I thought of my wager with David, and found that I had won it,
as my first prize was taken a day before he captured his. I had left
a letter for him at the office of the owners, and I now took the
opportunity to write a few lines in addition, and congratulate him on
his success.
Near nightfall the wind shifted; and as the British man-of-war that
troubled me somewhat when I arrived had now gone to the southward, I
had no difficulty in getting on the ocean again.
I learned afterwards that I had a narrow escape from running into a
British fleet of five ships, with an aggregate of two hundred guns. It
was a little to the south of the course I followed, and had already
made several prizes; it was looking for the fleet of Commodore Rodgers,
and also watching for the forty-four gun ship Constitution, which had
gone into Chesapeake Bay, and was expected to come out again very soon.
The Constitution came out as expected; and on Friday, July 17th, she
was off the coast, but out of sight of land, when she made out four
sails to the northward, and soon afterwards a fifth sail. One of them
was discovered to be a man-of-war, but the others were supposed to be
merchantmen. The wind was light during the afternoon and evening, and
also during the night. On the morning of the 18th, the Constitution
found herself almost surrounded by a British fleet, consisting of one
ship of the line, sixty-four guns, and four frigates, enough to make
short work if they could once succeed in closing in upon her.
All day the wind was light, or there was a dead calm. The Constitution
took advantage of every puff, and she got out her boats and tried to
tow out of danger. Then, finding she was in about twenty fathom water,
she took all the spare rope that could be found, and bent it to a
kedge, which was carried ahead about half a mile and dropped. As soon
as the kedge took the ground, the crew hauled away on the rope, walking
aft with it as fast as they could; and in this way the ship moved away
as though she had a steam-engine on board. The maneuver was repeated
several times before the British discovered it, and then they tried the
same trick.
Well, to make a long story short, that chase was kept up for three days
in light wind or dead calm, the Constitution managing to keep just out
of range and no more. All the ships had every stitch of canvas out,
and the men were kept in the tops to wet down the sails and make them
draw as much as possible. It's a wonder the Constitution escaped, when
we remember she had five ships closing around her, two of them being
right abeam of her at one time for several hours, one on the starboard
and the other on the larboard.
The sailor who told me about the chase said that all through it
everything on the Constitution was in the best of order, and all the
evolutions were performed as though the ship had been lying at anchor
in port. The chase was brought to an end by a squall. It came suddenly,
and lasted only an hour; and the Constitution used it to such advantage
that, when the clouds blew away, she was far ahead of the nearest of
her pursuers, and they fired two guns to leeward as a signal that they
gave up the struggle.
After escaping from the British fleet, as I have just described, the
Constitution went into Boston to refit, and sailed from there on the
second of August, in the hope of falling in with some one of the
English war-ships that were cruising along the coast between Halifax
and Nantucket. Captain Hull, her commander, was particularly anxious to
fall in with the Guerrière and fight her single-handed; but it was not
his fortune to meet her or any other British war-ship between Boston
and the Bay of Fundy. Then Captain Hull cruised eastward, capturing
a few merchant vessels, and then turned to the south. On the 19th of
August his spirits were cheered by the report of a sail in sight; and
he immediately gave chase in her direction.
She was soon made out to be a frigate, and the chances were largely
in favor of her being British. She showed a willingness to meet the
Constitution, and the captain ordered the decks cleared and everything
made ready for a fight. The stranger hung out British colors, and was
at length made out to be the Guerrière, the very ship that Hull was
looking for.
The ships maneuvered for nearly an hour, the Englishman endeavoring
to get in a position to rake the American, and at the same time avoid
being raked himself. Both ships dodged about for a good while, and it
was six o'clock in the evening before they got fairly together.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DESTRUCTION OF THE GUERRIÈRE BY THE CONSTITUTION.--CAPTAIN HULL'S
WAGER.--HOW I TRICKED A BRITISH CAPTAIN.--DAVID'S RUSE.--FORTUNE
FROWNS.
Both of them kept firing, but doing little damage, as they began when
they were out of effective range of each other's guns. But as they drew
nearer, Hull endeavoring to lay his ship alongside of the Guerrière,
the shots of the latter began to tell, the Constitution being struck
several times. Hull gave orders to withhold his fire, and he held it
so long that Lieutenant Morris, his second in command, came and asked
permission to begin. As he did so, the bows of the American ship were
opposite the quarter of the Englishman. Hull answered, "Not yet," to
the request of Lieutenant Morris.
The ships drew nearer and nearer to each other, and Morris repeated his
request.
"Not yet," said Hull again very quietly.
When the Constitution had reached a point where his whole broadside
could take effect, Hull, who had been walking the quarter-deck rather
silently, suddenly bent himself twice to the deck, and shouted, "Now,
boys, pour it into them!"
There was hardly a second of time between the order and the opening of
the guns of the Constitution. The guns were double shotted with round
and grape shot, and the effect was terrible. The concussion of the
broadside was so great as to cause the Guerrière to keel over as if a
squall had struck her, the ships being only half a pistol-shot apart.
It is said that those in the cockpit of the Guerrière were thrown
from one side of the room to the other, and before they could adjust
themselves the blood came streaming down upon them, and very speedily
the place was filled with wounded men.
Hull's broadside was quickly followed by another, and for twelve or
fifteen minutes each vessel was firing away as rapidly as possible. At
the end of fifteen minutes the mizzenmast of the Guerrière was shot
away, her mainyard was in slings, her sails were ripped and torn in
every direction, and her hull was riddled from one end to the other.
The Constitution had suffered very little damage; a few holes through
her sails, and several round shot in her hull, completed the list of
her injuries. The Guerrière brought up in the wind as her mizzenmast
gave way, when the Constitution went slowly ahead pouring in a
tremendous fire, and luffed short around the bows of the Guerrière
to prevent being raked. Then she ran foul of the Guerrière, dashing
her bowsprit into her enemy's larboard quarter. The cabin of the
Constitution was set on fire by the forward guns of the Guerrière, but
the fire was soon put out.
Both parties now attempted to board; the English boarders were
ready first, and the three officers who led them sprang upon the
Constitution's taffrail, where they met a severe fire. Two were
seriously wounded, and one was killed; and just then the sails of the
Constitution filled, and she separated from her antagonist.
The Constitution hauled off a short distance, secured her own masts,
rove new rigging, and at sunset wore around to take a favorable
position for raking the Guerrière. The foremast of the latter fell just
as the Constitution separated from her, and in falling it carried the
mainmast with it. You will remember that the mizzenmast had already
fallen, and so the Guerrière lay helpless on the water. The Union Jack
had been kept flying from the stump of one of the masts, but as the
Constitution came around to renew the fight, the flag was lowered,
and a boat was sent from the American ship to take possession of the
prize. Captain Dacres, the commander of the Guerrière, appeared at the
gangway, and made formal surrender of his ship when the American boat
arrived there. Lieutenant Read, the American officer, then said,--
"Commodore Hull's compliments, and wishes to know whether you need the
assistance of a surgeon or surgeon's mate."
Dacres answered, "Well, I should suppose you had on board your own ship
business enough for all your medical officers."
Read replied, "Oh, no; we have only seven wounded, and they were
dressed half an hour ago."
There's a story I've heard which is too good to be left out, that
Captain Hull and Captain Dacres were personally acquainted, having met
frequently at Baltimore and other places before the breaking out of the
war. The last time they met previous to the battle was in Annapolis at
a dinner-party, where they fell into conversation about the merits of
their respective ships. Hull said to Dacres,--
"You'd better look out for yourself if we have war and I ever catch you
in the Constitution."
Dacres laughed, and offered to make a heavy wager as to the result of
any encounter. Hull declined a large bet, and it finally settled down
to a wager of a hat. When Captain Dacres went on board the Constitution
after the defeat of the Guerrière he offered his sword to Captain Hull.
The latter said,--
"No, no; keep your sword. I won't take it from any man who knows so
well how to use it; but I'll trouble you for that hat."
It was nearly dark when the battle was over. The Constitution lay about
the wreck of the Guerrière all night, and at daylight in the morning
the officer in charge of the prize hailed to say that she had four feet
of water in her hold, and was in danger of sinking. Hull immediately
sent all his boats to bring off the prisoners and their effects. The
work occupied the entire forenoon; then the prize-crew was recalled,
and the Guerrière was set on fire. She blew up about three o'clock in
the afternoon, and that was the end of her career.
The Constitution steered immediately for Boston, where she was received
with the wildest demonstrations of joy. There was great enthusiasm all
over the country as the news of the victory was spread abroad. It gave
the Americans great confidence in their little navy, and made easier
the work of securing appropriations from Congress for building new
ships. A feeling had prevailed among many people that our vessels were
no match for the enemy's; and as for the English, they believed any
British ship could conquer an American one with twice its number of
guns and men.
The joy on the American side of the Atlantic was about equal to the
depression in England. The London _Times_, in speaking of the event,
said that it was the first time in history that the English flag had
been struck on the high seas to anything like an equal force.
On my second voyage in the Marguerite I kept away to the south and
east, in the hope of falling in with a home-bound East Indiaman who
had not heard of the declaration of war. A ship of this sort would be
a very rich prize, better by far than was the Camperdown, as her cargo
would consist of silks, spices, and other goods in which much value is
packed in a small space.
My hopes were realized, as I found just such a ship, and took her with
very little resistance. She had a large crew and several passengers;
and as I had already weakened my force by the prize-crew required for
a Jamaica brig, taken three days before, I decided to accompany my new
prize to New York.
The crew of the Indiaman filled my hold with prisoners; and as she
required a considerable number of men to work her, it would have been
impossible for me to spare another prize-crew, even had there been a
dozen ships to be had for the work of taking them.
My prize was the Charlotte; and compared with her the Marguerite
resembled a terrier alongside of a great mastiff, or a mastiff standing
near a big cart-horse. She was not prepared for fighting to any
extent, as she carried only four light guns and some cutlasses and
muskets; quite sufficient for keeping off Malay pirates, but of little
use against an American privateer. I permitted the passengers to remain
on board with their cook and private servants, the latter being natives
of India, and quite indifferent to what happened around them as long as
their own skins and heads did not come to harm.
We kept in company, my orders being very positive in that particular,
and I had arranged points of meeting in case we became separated by bad
weather, or for any other reason. Luckily the weather was favorable,
and we went along in fine style; I was already counting the days, and
almost the hours, when I should reach New York and bring my rich prize
to anchor off the Battery, at the point where the Marguerite lay on her
previous return.
We were within three hundred miles of New York when one afternoon I
sighted a sail to windward, and bearing down in our direction. It was a
big sail, large enough for a man-of-war; and as it came nearer I made
out that it was a thirty-eight-gun frigate, with a very ugly look about
her, and the British ensign waving in the wind.
Here was a pretty mess of things! But I had thought of an emergency of
this very sort, and laid my plans accordingly. Now was the time to see
how they would work.
The Charlotte and the Marguerite were running with the wind on the
larboard beam, the Charlotte leading by about a mile. I hoisted the
American ensign, while the Charlotte showed no colors. The Marguerite
gained on the Charlotte slowly but steadily, while the frigate was
running with the wind in her favor, and bearing down so as to come
disagreeably near to both, unless a diversion could be made.
As I drew up within what might possibly be effective range of the
Charlotte, I fired at her with our midship gun. The shot struck two
or three hundred yards astern of her, plowed up the water; and a few
moments later I gave her another gun, with the same result.
My intention was to give the impression that an English merchant
ship was being pursued by an American privateer. The Englishman
was evidently doing his best to escape, but was in danger of being
overhauled by the American, which was a better sailer. I had the
satisfaction of seeing that my ruse was successful, as the frigate
changed her course so as to cut off the privateer and enable the
merchantman to escape.
The Charlotte hauled into the wind, while the Marguerite eased off and
ran to leeward to escape falling into the jaws of the frigate.
The frigate followed the schooner; and in order to encourage her I put
out drags at the Marguerite's sides so as to hold her back sufficiently
to enable the frigate to gain on us. We were about four miles apart
when this performance began, and to all appearances the frigate gained
half a mile an hour on the schooner. Thus we ran away to leeward, while
the Charlotte was hauling into the wind and getting more and more out
of harm's way every minute. Before sunset she was barely a speck on the
horizon, and away to windward; the frigate was within about two miles
of the Marguerite, too far off to do any damage with her guns.
I took in one of the drags, and thus enabled the schooner to increase
her speed; but I didn't do it until feeling sure there was no possible
chance of the frigate turning to follow the Charlotte. As the sun went
down and night began stealing over the water, the distance was about
the same as it had been for an hour; the frigate was gaining a little,
but not much. I thought it best to humor the captain, and so kept the
other drag in place till night had fallen completely, and neither ship
was any longer visible to the other.
Then I took off the last drag and changed our course. We steered by the
stars, not keeping any light in the binnacle; and I gave orders that
every glim should be dowsed, and not a spark of fire visible on any
part of the schooner during the night. When morning came, the frigate
was nowhere in sight. I flattered myself that I had tricked her neatly
and saved my very valuable prize from recapture. So it proved, as the
Charlotte turned up at the place fixed for our meeting; and in due time
I reached New York with my prize, and had the pleasure of seeing her
safely anchored not far from the Battery, and the Marguerite lying near
her.
And what added to my pleasure was the fact that the Hyacinth was at
anchor close by; and one of the first men to come on board was my old
friend, David Taylor! He had just arrived from a successful cruise, and
was in the best of spirits. His prizes were all good ones, though none
of them was equal in value to my Indiaman, whose cargo was one of the
best ever brought into New York.
I told him of the trick that I played on the frigate, and it amused him
very much. Then he told how he had an experience of very much the same
kind, and I will give it in his words as nearly as I remember them.
"I had spoken an American merchantman one day," said David, "and a few
hours later fell in with an English sloop-of-war. She was on the same
course as the American, but had not yet sighted her, and I thought I
would do a good turn to my countryman by leading the English ship out
of the way. She was not a fast sailer, and I could have shown my heels
to her at once, so that she would have given up all thought of chasing
me, but I put out drags just as you did and let her overhaul me.
"The old proverb says that a stern chase is a long chase, and so it
was in this instance. I led him a lively dance, letting him come up
almost within shooting distance before taking off my drags and giving
the Hyacinth her head. Then we walked away so fast that he must have
been puzzled to make out how we increased our speed without putting
on more canvas, which we couldn't do, as we had everything set that
was possible to pile on her. We had a good deal of fun on board about
the performance; and if I ever meet the captain of that American
merchantman I shall tell him he owes me a new hat."
The owners of the Marguerite greeted me as heartily as when I returned
from my first cruise, and congratulated me on my success in the latest
venture. It was arranged that I should go to sea again as soon as the
schooner had been newly provisioned, watered, and made ready for the
occupation which seemed to be as congenial for her as for her officers
and crew. I retained all my officers and nearly all my men. The
Marguerite was adding to her reputation as a lucky craft; and when a
ship's luck is in your favor, there's no difficulty in getting all the
men you want.
Soon as I could do so, I went to the house where I had left the
Grahams. To my disappointment I found that they had left New York and
gone to England, Captain Graham having been exchanged and allowed
to depart. An English transport had arrived under a flag of truce,
bringing a considerable number of American prisoners taken from ships
captured by the fleet of Admiral Broke, who was cruising along our
coast. On her departure she carried away all the British prisoners who
had been exchanged or paroled. Captain Graham refused to go without
his family, and, consequently, room was made for them on board the
transport. Her destination was Plymouth or Portsmouth, they were
uncertain at which point they should land, so Captain Graham said
in a letter that he left for me in the hands of the keeper of the
boarding-house where they had been staying.
He gave me an address in England where he could always be reached, and
in closing his letter he added, "If you should ever be in England,
either in peace or war, don't fail to find us or send to us. It may be
in my power to serve you some day, and you may hold to the assurance
that I shall do so whenever possible." I carefully noted his address,
and not only wrote it down, but committed it to memory. "Who knows,"
I said to myself, "but that the fortune of war may find me in England,
a prisoner; and should this ever happen, the friendship of the Grahams
will be very greatly to my advantage."
Each time that I came into port I wrote to my parents and friends at
home, told how I was prospering, and gave them practical evidence of
my success in life by sending money sufficient to care for the entire
family and place them above want, but not enough to induce the younger
members of it to lead lives of idleness. What I was I had become
through industry, and I had no notion of encouraging indolence in any
of my brothers and sisters. There is an old saying among New England
farmers that "Everybody must hoe his own row;" and out of it has grown
an injunction to each one of us in the emphatic though homely phrase,
"Paddle your own canoe." Perhaps none of the members of my family were
inclined to live at the expense of others, but I took the precaution to
keep them out of temptation to do so.
Cruise after cruise went the Marguerite from New York, and each voyage
she was successful, though less so as time went on than during the
first few months of the war. Altogether, I took twenty-two prizes with
the schooner; three of them were re-captured by British war-ships, and
one was lost in a storm on the coast of Long Island. The rest got in
safely, and were sold with their cargoes. My share of the prize-money
did not make me rich beyond the dreams of avarice, as Dr. Johnson says;
but it was enough to make me comfortable for the rest of my life, and
to share my comfort with a wife and children.
As the year 1814 opened, I began to think it was time for me to retire
from the sea, and tempt Fortune no longer. She is said to be a fickle
jade, and perhaps would turn from me when I least expected it.
She gave me a warning of what she might do by getting me into several
predicaments from which it was little less than a miracle that the
Marguerite escaped capture. Great numbers of British war-ships were
hovering on our coast and swarming on the ocean; and on half a dozen
and more occasions it was only the superior sailing qualities of
the schooner, or some tact of my own, that saved her. Once we were
surrounded by a fleet of five British war-ships; the wind had fallen
almost to a calm, and capture seemed inevitable. The nearest of the
enemy's vessels had got out their boats to carry us by boarding, and I
was about to order our flag lowered to avoid helpless bloodshed, when
suddenly I saw in the distance the waters rippled by a breeze, and a
dark cloud which betokened a squall.
CHAPTER XIX.
ESCAPING FROM A BRITISH FLEET.--DESTRUCTION OF THE
MARGUERITE.--CAPTURED BY AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.--PRISONER AT PLYMOUTH
AND DARTMOOR.
I thought of the escape of the Constitution under similar
circumstances, and prepared accordingly. The British ships shortened
sail to avoid the peril of capsizing; I kept everything spread, and
when the squall struck us we heeled over so that our lee guns were
buried. For a moment I thought we would go over on our beam-ends; then
the Marguerite stiffened up, and darted ahead like a race-horse, and
away we sped through the water. On we dashed between two of the ships
that had closed in upon us, and, though the shot flew thick, we were
not touched by a single one of them. Before the enemy could gather way
to follow us, we were out of reach of harm, and we stayed out of it too.
My experience in this affair calls to mind that of the privateer
Saratoga, Captain Riker. She carried eighteen guns and a crew of one
hundred and forty men. In the autumn of 1812 she captured the ship
Quebec, sixteen guns, from Jamaica, with a cargo worth three hundred
thousand dollars. She went into the port of La Guayra, Venezuela,
but was warned off, as some British ships were cruising in the
neighborhood, and the authorities did not want any battle in the
harbor. A fog came on, and as she was going out of the bay she captured
a British vessel worth twenty thousand dollars.
The fog lasted all day and into the next; and just as it cleared off
she fell in with a twelve-gun brig, that she captured. Then she ran
into the jaws of two British men-of-war. They supposed she would
steer so as to avoid both of them at the same time, and under that
supposition they separated. The Saratoga watched her chance, suddenly
going about, and steering straight between them. They could not turn as
quickly as she could, and before they went about she was practically
out of danger; the shot flew thick about her, but did no serious damage.
In June of that year (1814) I sailed on what I intended should be
my last cruise; and it proved to be the last, though it ended quite
differently from what I had planned. Robert Burns tells us in his ode
"To a Mouse," that
"The best laid schemes o' mice and men,
Gang aft a-gley."
And so it was with my last cruise in the Marguerite, in what proved to
be the closing year of the war.
The privateers had committed so much havoc among British merchantmen,
that few vessels ventured on the ocean without convoy. Occasionally
a privateer would succeed in cutting out one of the convoyed craft,
but the chance did not come often enough to make the business
encouraging. Sometimes it happened that a ship-of-war was disguised
as a merchantman; and when a privateer drew up alongside in full
confidence of having taken a rich prize, ports opened in the side of
the apparently peaceful craft, guns were run out, and the privateer
was quickly brought to grief by twice or three times the weight of her
metal; or if she managed to escape, it was only after severe suffering.
On this cruise I sailed away to the eastward, avoiding the big
men-of-war and the convoys, in the hope of falling upon an unprotected
merchant-ship.
Nothing was seen that appeared judicious for the Marguerite to attack,
until we were more than half-way across the Atlantic. One afternoon we
made out a sail to the eastward, and I cracked on in her direction in
order to get near enough to make her out, and decide whether to close
or give her a wide berth. We overhauled her rapidly, and while the sun
was yet well in the sky. I was satisfied that, though much larger
than the Marguerite, she was not sufficiently strong to cope with us
successfully. So I kept on while she was trying to escape us, and in
due time I fired a gun as a signal for her to heave-to.
She paid no attention to it; and then I fired another gun, following it
by a third, which sent a ball through her mainsail. Upon this she took
the hint, and hauled aback to wait for us to come up.
The Marguerite ranged alongside the stranger, and not more than two
hundred yards away. Just as we were fairly abreast of her, and I was
putting the trumpet to my lips to order her captain to send a boat on
board, there was a transformation which would have done credit to a
well-managed theater!
Seven holes opened in the side of the strange craft, seven ports
dropped, and seven guns were run out. The instant they had been run out
they were aimed and fired, so that the whole operation was performed
in less time than it takes me to tell it. The shot came crashing into
the schooner; and they were so well aimed that I believe every one of
them hulled her. We returned fire very promptly, as every man had been
standing to his post, and all was in readiness; but, of course, the
stranger had the advantage of first fire, and at short range too.
We had but three guns in our broadside to oppose to seven; and,
furthermore, the guns of the stranger were much heavier than ours.
Instantly I saw that to lie where we were would be certain destruction,
and my best course was to try to carry the enemy by boarding, or else
run away, if running were possible.
I gave the order to lay the ship aboard; but when we tried the
maneuver it was found that the schooner would not answer the helm,
her rudder having been shot away close to the head. A few minutes
later the carpenter reported that the schooner was badly hit below the
water-line, and was leaking fast.
At the third broadside our foremast was shot through about twenty feet
above the deck. It was not cut short off, but so weakened that as soon
as a strain was put upon it, it broke and fell. In its fall it killed
one man and injured another, and it buried one of the guns beneath the
folds of the foresail.
Not many minutes after announcing the leak caused by the enemy's shot,
the carpenter reported eight inches of water in the hold, and the
opening of additional leaks by the guns of our antagonist. With rudder
and foremast gone, the Marguerite was totally unmanageable. She was
leaking so badly that she would sink in a few hours; and though we had
inflicted considerable damage upon the enemy, he was far less disabled
than we were.
My list of killed and wounded was not small; and though my men were
ready to keep up the struggle as long as any of them were able to
stand, I saw that further fighting was useless. It was with a heavy
heart that I gave the order to cease firing and haul down the flag.
The crew was wild with excitement, and I never saw them make so near an
approach to mutiny as at that time. Had they received any encouragement
from the mates, I am quite confident they would have refused to lower
the ensign when I gave the order to do so, but would have fought on
till the deck settled beneath them into the waters of the Atlantic, or
the last man dropped from wounds or exhaustion.
Instantly the enemy ceased firing. I got out the only boat that had
not been smashed by the enemy's shot. While the men were getting it
into the water I hailed our captor, and announced that we were sinking.
Soon as I could get there I went on board the victor to make formal
surrender of the Marguerite; and while on the way we were met by two
boats that had come to remove our men ere the schooner went down.
I carried with me all my official and private papers, together
with such other things as I could hastily gather, since there was
considerable doubt about my being able to return to save anything from
the fast sinking vessel. Haines said he would lookout for the rest
of my effects, or as much of them as he would be able to save; and I
told him to tell the crew to get their dunnage bags ready for immediate
transfer to the vessel that had made prize of us.
When I came into the presence of the captain to whom I was now a
prisoner, I saw a face and heard a voice that seemed familiar to me.
For a moment I could not identify their owner, but very quickly I made
out who he was, though I gave no sign of recognition.
"I am Captain Crane of the American privateer, Marguerite," said I. "I
surrender my vessel and crew to you!"
"Your schooner is sinking," was the reply; "how long can she keep
afloat?"
"Perhaps for two or three hours," I answered. "Your guns were well
served, and have done you credit."
Then he told his first officer to bring the crew of the Marguerite on
board as soon as possible, save all the property that could be saved
from the wreck, and then let her sink. Turning to me, he said,--
"Captain Crane, will you come below?"
Of course I accepted the invitation, and followed him to his cabin. As
we took seats at the table he announced that I had surrendered to the
British privateer, Reindeer, Captain Woods; and then he shook my hand
heartily.
"It's a long time since we met after the loss of the Evelyn," said
he, "and for your sake I'm sorry for the circumstance of our meeting
to-day. I've heard of the Marguerite and the mischief she has been
doing, but had no suspicion that her captain and I were acquainted."
He told me that he had been in command of the Reindeer for more than a
year, and had taken several American prizes, and sunk two privateers by
the same ruse he practised on me.
"With your crew we shall have all the prisoners we can care for; and
I shall now steer for England. If I fall in with a vessel which I can
convert into a cartel I will stay on the seas a while longer; but if
not, I shall hope to land you in Plymouth in a week or ten days."
Then we had a general conversation on various topics, the steward
serving us with refreshments while our talk was going on. Altogether, I
was made to forget, in some degree, the misfortune that had overtaken
me; and I certainly congratulated myself that, if fate had decreed that
I was to be captured, she had allowed me to fall into the hands where I
found myself.
I gave my parole that I would make no attempt to escape, or
countenance any insurrection on the part of the prisoners; and after
remaining below for half an hour or so, went on deck with Captain Woods.
We were lying not more than a hundred yards from the Marguerite, and
tears came into my eyes as I saw what a hopeless wreck had been made of
her, and how the water had risen so far up her sides that her sinking
would not be long delayed. Haines was still on board with ten or twelve
men of our crew, and they were helping the British sailors to remove
barrels and boxes of provisions, and casks of water, from the schooner
to the barque. I should have stated that our captor was a barque,
mounting fourteen guns, and having a crew proportionately large. She
was disguised as a merchantman, and no one looking at her would suspect
that she was as dangerous as she proved to be on close acquaintance.
"All's fair in love and war," says the old adage; and I have no reason
to complain of the deception that was practised upon me. Tricks of this
sort are heard of in all wars; and I bear in mind that I had not been
averse to deceptions in several instances, and successful ones too.
Two hours from the time we struck our flag, the decks of the Marguerite
were almost awash, and the danger was imminent that the schooner would
go down and carry with her some of the men who were still on board.
So the order was given to abandon the vessel, and very quickly it was
obeyed. Five minutes after the last of the boats left her side, she
disappeared below the waves, and went to rest in the bosom of the
Atlantic.
It was a sad sight for me and my men to gaze upon; but, after all, I
had much rather have it so than see the Marguerite brought as a prize
into a British port. I know that the same feelings animated my men; and
so the cloud that settled upon us was not altogether without its silver
lining.
When the privateer was gone from view, the Reindeer filled away in the
direction of England. At a suggestion from Captain Woods, I called my
men together and told them that by giving their honorable promise not
to enter into any conspiracy against their captors, they could have
certain privileges not usually accorded to prisoners on shipboard. They
would be divided into watches, and each watch would have the privilege
of the deck alternately for four hours every day, under the supervision
of their first and second mates. The sailors readily entered into the
agreement, and promised to keep to it faithfully. Most of them got
on good terms with the British sailors, while some remained sullen,
and refused to be friendly with those who had captured them. Some of
the victors were inclined to bully the captives; but the bullying was
stopped by the orders of Captain Woods, though not until one of the
offenders had been triced up and flogged, by way of a hint to the rest
as well as to himself.
Eleven days after our capture we passed Land's End, the most southerly
point of England, and on the next day we reached Plymouth Sound, where
we cast anchor.
Plymouth is an important port and naval station of England; it has
been fortified since the fourteenth century, and has an interesting
connection with many events of the world's history. It was from
Plymouth that Hawkins, Cook, Drake, and other famous navigators sailed
on many of their expeditions; it was from here that the fleet of Lord
Howard of Effingham went out to meet the Spanish Armada, in 1588, and
it was from the same port that the Pilgrim Fathers of New England
sailed in the Mayflower, in 1620, to establish on the other side of the
Atlantic a town of the same name.
Captain Woods called my attention to the Hoe, which is a high promenade
overlooking the town and the Sound, and is said to be the spot where
Sir Francis Drake was interrupted at a game of bowls by the news that
the Spanish Armada was near the coast. The others wanted to hurry on
board ship at once; but Drake said, "We've time to play the game out
and beat the Spaniards too." They finished the game, and the Spanish
Armada was destroyed in due time.
The prisoners on the Reindeer were turned over to the authorities. We
felt very grateful to Captain Woods for his kindness to us; and when we
came to anchor I drew up a paper setting forth his courtesies to us,
and asking that, if he should ever become a prisoner in American hands,
he should be treated as kindly as he had treated the officers and crew
of the Marguerite. This was signed by myself and my first and second
mates, and by all of my men who were asked to sign it.
Before we left the Reindeer Captain Woods called me into his cabin and
told me what I knew very well without his saying so; that my promises
relative to attempts to escape ended when we passed out of his hands.
"And I wish to say further," said he, "that if you should find yourself
wandering about the streets of Plymouth, you will do well to go to The
Blue Anchor boarding-house, in the Barbican, facing Sutton Pool, and
ask for Joe Waghorn, who keeps it. Say the same to Haines, your second
mate."
With that he clasped my hand warmly, and we returned to the deck. In
half an hour the boats had landed us, and we were marched off to the
Citadel, where we were placed under guard for the night. What was to be
our fate or destination, none of us could tell.
I revolved in mind constantly the parting words of Captain Woods, and
determined to find The Blue Anchor as soon as possible. So did Haines,
to whom I confided the secret, with the injunction to learn from the
guards the way to the Barbican and Sutton Pool, but not to mention the
boarding-house or the name of its proprietor.
Officers and crew were separated in the quarters where we were placed
for the night, partly in order to preserve the distinction between
them, and partly in consequence of the greater security the plan
afforded. The chances of a conspiracy would have been much greater if
officers and men were together, as the former could furnish the brains
for a plot, while the latter could supply the muscle. Sailors have the
courage for executing a scheme which may demand all the aggressive
qualities of human nature, but they have not usually the skill for
devising the scheme itself.
Haines ascertained from one of the guards the location of the Barbican
quarter of Plymouth, and we racked our brains to invent a way for
eluding the vigilance of our keepers, but all to no purpose. We
learned that there had been so many escapes that the officers and men
of the garrison were unusually watchful; the authorities had decreed
that an escape, no matter under what circumstances, would be followed
by severe punishment of those in charge at the time. I heard of a case
in which a prisoner got away by creeping behind his guard, knocking
him down with a stone, and escaping while the soldier lay senseless.
The soldier was so severely wounded that he was sent to the hospital.
When he recovered and came out, he was punished for his negligence in
permitting the prisoner to regain his liberty.
In the quarters where we were placed we found several other prisoners
of our own nationality; and under the circumstances it did not take
long for us to get acquainted. We were kept at Plymouth for two days.
On the afternoon of the second day several new prisoners arrived, and
the guard told us we were to set out early in the morning for Dartmoor
Prison.
CHAPTER XX.
PRISON LIFE AT DARTMOOR.--REMINISCENCES OF
PRIVATEERING.--ACHIEVEMENTS OF THE ROSSIE, HIGHFLIER, GOVERNOR
TOMPKINS, AND OTHERS.--I AM SUMMONED TO THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE.
Hardly were the birds out of their nests or down from their roosts in
the morning, before we were roused and served with a scanty breakfast
of tea, mush, and bread, with a piece of meat that was anything but
tender or savory. Then we were drawn up in line, the officers I
mean, and offered the choice of giving our paroles not to escape and
marching under a light guard, or being placed under a strong guard and
handcuffed if we declined the paroles.
"I'll take my chances of getting away," said Haines, "and won't give
the beggars any promise."
I had the same impulse; but a brief reflection showed me that in irons
and strongly guarded, there would be practically no chance at all of
escaping. So I decided to give my parole; and before the time was up
for a decision Haines followed my example, as did the other officers.
No such choice was given to the men. They were handcuffed together two
and two, and the soldiers in charge of them carried loaded muskets with
fixed bayonets; and to make the men understand that the powder and
ball were ready for service, the guns were loaded in the presence of
the column of prisoners as it stood on parade. There were about twenty
officers and two hundred men comprising the prison convoy, and the
guards were certainly not fewer than sixty. The guards marched with the
prisoners, and there was a wagon following the convoy to pick up those
who gave out from illness or any other cause.
The squad of officers got away half an hour in advance of the others,
and as each man was under parole very little attention was paid to us
by the guards. A dozen times during the day's walk I could have got
away with the greatest ease; but, of course, I was hindered by the fact
that I had given my word of honor not to escape; and had I violated it,
and been re-captured, the punishment would have been--death.
It is a good day's walk from Plymouth to Princetown. The distance is
certainly not less than fifteen miles, and it may be twenty, and the
road is up-hill a good part of the way. Princetown is at the gates
of Dartmoor prison; in fact, it has grown up since the prison was
established, and is occupied almost entirely by people connected with
the place in some way. The families of officers and guards live there,
and so do the various contractors who supply food to the unfortunate
inmates of the walled inclosure.
We were tired and foot-sore when we got to the prison and entered
the fortress-like walls through a massive gateway. We were carefully
searched to make sure that we had no weapons concealed about us, and
any money found upon our persons was taken to the prison authorities
and placed to our credit on the keeper's books. It was deemed unwise to
allow money to remain in the hands of the prisoners, lest it might be
used in bribing the guards. The precaution was a good one, as I know
that if I had been in possession of money I should have tried to bribe
my way out of Dartmoor before I had been there twenty-four hours.
Dartmoor Prison was built specially for the confinement of prisoners
of war, of whom England had great numbers during her troubles with
France, growing out of the French Revolution and the career of Napoleon
Bonaparte. It was finished in 1806, and at one time contained no fewer
than eleven thousand French prisoners. It is about one thousand five
hundred feet above the level of the sea at Plymouth, and that is why
the road from Plymouth to Princetown is so much up-hill. An average of
one hundred feet to the mile or thereabouts is a pretty steep ascent.
The prison covers about thirty acres of ground, inclosed between double
walls. In the inclosure are quarters for the guards and officers, and
there are seven large prison houses for the captives. It was located in
the midst of a desolate moor, and at this distance from the sea-coast
in order to increase the difficulties of escape.
It is safe to say that every man who is brought here has a plan in his
mind by which he hopes to escape; and some men have perhaps a dozen
schemes they will try in succession as fast as one fails. It was so
in my case; but I soon made up my mind that the construction of the
prison, combined with the vigilance of the guards, would be likely to
baffle any attempts I should make. So I resigned myself to my fate, and
also to something else that I expected daily.
I had not forgotten the message left me by Captain Graham when he
sailed from New York. Before coming ashore from the Reindeer I wrote
a letter to the captain, telling him that Haines and I were prisoners
of war, briefly detailing the circumstances of our capture, and adding
that I knew nothing of our destination save that we were to be landed
at Plymouth. This letter I left with Captain Woods, who promised to
post it as soon as he went ashore.
Day after day passed and I received no reply to my letter, nor did
I hear from it in any way. A week, two weeks, three weeks, and the
situation was the same. I began to despair, not that I doubted the
fidelity of Captain Graham to his promise, but because I feared my
letter had gone astray and failed to reach its destination. I asked
for the privilege of writing another letter, but was told that such
indulgence was not permitted to the prisoners, except by permission of
some high official in London, whom it was impossible for me to reach.
It was against the rules for me to write a letter without the consent
of some one outside the prison, and I was not permitted to send to him
for that consent.
Time hung heavy on my hands. During the day we had the privileges
of the prison yard; at night we were locked up in our quarters, and
sentries, with loaded muskets, were at the doors to prevent our going
outside the building. We had only the floor to sleep upon, unless we
were ill enough to be sent to the hospital, where the beds consisted of
the rudest kind of cots, with bags of straw for mattresses. Our food
was barely enough to support life, and of the most common description.
For those in the hospital it was a little better; but even there it was
not such as would tempt the appetite.
Some of the prisoners had been there for several years, having been
sent to Dartmoor long before the breaking out of the war in 1812.
They were Americans who had been impressed into the British service,
and refused to serve against their country. They had undergone severe
punishment, some having been flogged repeatedly in the hope of
subduing them, and as a last resort they had been sent to Dartmoor for
incarceration.
Altogether, there were more than two thousand of this class of
prisoners, and some had been ten years in captivity; then there were
about four thousand who had been captured on naval vessels, privateers,
and merchantmen, during the war; so that the total of the American
population of the prison was little, if any, short of six thousand.
We had the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that there was a
considerable number of British subjects confined in American prisons;
but, after all, there was very little comfort to be derived from this
knowledge. We would have gladly consented to the liberation of every
Briton then in American hands, provided, of course, we could have
gained our freedom at the same time.
We whiled away the time by various games, by reading the few books that
were allowed to us, and by telling each other of our experiences. Some
of the stories were exciting in the extreme, and served to enlighten
many hours that otherwise would have been very dull. Let me give some
of them by way of samples.
One of my prison mates was Captain Percival, who had served with
Commodore Lewis in the gunboat Flotilla at New York during the year
1813. "One day," said he, "the commodore ordered me to go out and
capture the sloop Eagle, which was serving as tender to the British
man-of-war Poictiers, seventy-four guns, that was cruising in those
waters, and trying to blockade the port.
"I told the commodore that I would want a seventy-four gun ship at
least to do it with, unless I could get the Eagle away from her big
consort.
"He said that I could only have a little fishing-smack; and then I saw
what he was driving at. He explained his scheme, and I proceeded to
carry it out.
"I took the fishing-smack, and had thirty-five armed men concealed
in her hold; then I had a calf, a sheep, and four or five geese on
deck, and three men who were in fishermen's clothes. We stood out past
Sandy Hook as though we were going to the fishing-banks. The Eagle
gave chase, and we tried to escape; but she overhauled us easily, as
we knew she would. When we got alongside of the Eagle the captain saw
the live-stock we had on board, and ordered us to go to the Poictiers,
which was then several miles away to the eastward. I parleyed with the
captain till the smack touched the sides of the Eagle, and then one of
my men on deck gave the watchword, 'Lawrence!'
"Instantly the hatches were thrown off, and the men swarmed up from
below! As they came up they fired at every man they saw on the Eagle,
killing the captain and two others, and astonishing the rest of the
crew so that they ran below. Then I ordered the firing to cease; and
as soon as I had done so, one of the Eagle's crew came up and lowered
her colors. At the same time my men swarmed into the sloop; and in
five minutes we had her headed to New York, where we arrived with our
prisoners, and were received with great enthusiasm.
"This happened on the Fourth of July, so that our performance was
celebrated along with the Declaration of Independence. So sudden was
our onslaught upon the Eagle that she did not fire her heavy brass
howitzer, which had a double charge of canister-shot, all ready to
repel an attack of this sort. We drew the charge of shot, and fired the
howitzer after we got to New York, as a part of the celebration."
Another of my prison companions was Mr. Johnson, who was second mate of
the clipper-built schooner Rossie, that sailed from Baltimore about the
middle of July, in the first year of the war. She carried fourteen guns
and a hundred and twenty men, and was commanded by Commodore Barney.
He cruised along the eastern coast of the United States for forty-five
days without entering a port; and Johnson said there was hardly a day
without an adventure of some sort. The Rossie was either chasing or
being chased, capturing English ships, and informing all American ships
that she met of the outbreak of the war.
"One day," said Johnson, "we were chased by a British frigate that got
within range of us, so that she hurled twenty-five or thirty shot in
our direction. All of them fell short, but some only just a little. We
outsailed the frigate and got away. A few days afterward we were chased
by another frigate, and we outsailed her just as we did the first one.
"The next day we captured and burned the ship Princess Royal; and the
day following we captured the ship Kitty, put a prize-crew on board,
and sent her into port. On the second of August we captured and burned
two brigs and a schooner, and also captured a brig on which we put
sixty of our prisoners, and sent her as a cartel to St. John, New
Brunswick, to make exchange for American prisoners. Four vessels in one
day was pretty good work, wasn't it?"
We all agreed that it was.
"Well," continued Johnson, "we did just as well the day after that
when we captured and sunk the brig Henry, and the schooners Race-horse
and Halifax; captured and manned the brig William, and added forty
prisoners to the sixty we'd already put on board the cartel. Those
two were our best days. Altogether, during our cruise of forty-five
days, we seized and captured fourteen vessels. We destroyed nine, and
sent five into port; and the estimated value of our prizes was over a
million and a quarter dollars!"
[Illustration: "ARE YOU JOHN CRANE, CAPTAIN OF THE LATE PRIVATEER,
MARGUERITE?" Page 294.]
"We didn't go back to Baltimore," said Johnson, "but put into Newport
when the forty-five days were up. We stayed there about ten days,
refitting and recruiting our crew, and then started out again. Two
days out from Newport we were chased by three British men-of-war all
at once; but our sailing qualities came into play and we got away from
all of them. A day or two later we were chased by an English frigate
for six hours, but left her behind us at last. We captured a British
armed packet, the Princess Amelia, and had a very savage fight with
her for almost an hour at pistol-shot distance all the time. Mr. Long,
our first lieutenant, was severely wounded, and six of the crew were
injured, but not very badly. The Princess Amelia lost her captain,
sailing-master, and one sailor, killed, and the master's mate and six
seamen were wounded.
"Commodore Barney had just secured this prize and started her for port,
when we fell in, on the same day, with three ships and an armed brig.
The brig was convoying the ships; and we had a little brush with her,
in which she gave us an eighteen-pound shot through our quarter. We
stuck to those vessels for four days, in hopes of their separating
so that we could jump on one of them and capture it; but they hung
together, and we gave up the game. The next day we fell in with the
privateer Globe, and the two of us started off together to hunt for
the three ships, but couldn't find them. Then we separated, and within
a week after we did so the Rossie captured two fine prizes, sent them
into port, and followed them. Altogether, on those two cruises, we
captured thirty-seven hundred tons of shipping, valued at a million and
a half of dollars, and two hundred and seventeen prisoners.
"Another very successful privateer that went from Baltimore," continued
Johnson, "was the Highflyer, commanded by Captain Gavit. She was armed
with eight guns and carried about one hundred men. Her first prize
was a British schooner in ballast, but with eight thousand dollars in
specie.
"The Highflyer's next encounter was with a fleet of Jamaica merchantmen
convoyed by a British frigate. The frigate chased the Highflyer, but
was outsailed. The chase caused the convoy to be somewhat scattered.
Captain Gavit watched his chance, and cut out the Diana, one of the
fleet, which had a valuable cargo of rum, sugar, and coffee. Gavit took
out her crew and sent her as a prize to the United States.
"The next day the Highflyer fell in with and engaged two British
vessels at half gun-shot distance, one of them the Jamaica, seven
guns and twenty-one men, and the other the Mary Ann, twelve guns and
eighteen men. There was too much wind blowing to make it safe to
attempt boarding, and so the Highflyer hauled off and waited till the
wind moderated. The next day she jumped at them again, and, after a
sharp fight with cannon and musket, boarded the Jamaica and captured
her, and then went for the Mary Ann, which lowered her flag without any
further fighting. Both of them had rich cargoes, and were first-class
prizes. They were sent into port, where they arrived safely."
When Johnson paused in his story of the performance of the Highflyer,
Captain Percival said that one of the most successful privateers in the
early part of the war was the John, of Salem, which captured eleven
vessels in a cruise of three weeks; and another was the Paul Jones,
which captured in a month's time near the island of Porto Rico fourteen
vessels, some of them of considerable value. The best of all of them
was the British ship Hassan, fourteen guns and twenty men, sailing
from Gibraltar to Havana, with wines and dry goods, valued at two
hundred thousand pounds.
Mr. Johnson asked if any of us had ever known Captain Shaler, of the
schooner Governor Tompkins, of New York.
Two or three of us had met him, but none could claim acquaintance. I
remembered having been introduced to him one day, and he impressed me
as one of the most dashing, brave fellows that ever trod a ship's deck.
"The Tompkins was built especially for the business," said Johnson;
"she had fourteen carronades and one Long Tom, and carried a crew
of about one hundred and fifty men. One of Captain Shaler's first
experiences in the Tompkins was to find three British vessels together,
all looking like merchantmen. One was larger than the rest, and Shaler
supposed she was a transport until he got within a quarter of a mile of
her; then he found that she was a frigate that had been got up so as
to deceive the closest observer. He opened fire on her, and then her
ports flew open, and he received a response that nearly took his breath
away. His only hope was to get away, and he left the spot as rapidly as
he could. His schooner was a splendid sailer, and so he managed to get
out of his trouble. He got out all his sweeps, threw overboard all the
lumber on his decks and about two thousand pounds of shot, and in this
way managed to escape.
"The Tompkins lost two men killed and six wounded," continued the
narrator. "One of those killed was a black man, named Johnson. Captain
Shaler said, in his report to his owners, 'Johnson ought to be
registered on the book of fame, and remembered with reverence as long
as bravery is considered a virtue. A twenty-four pound shot struck him
in the hip, and took away all the lower part of his body. In this state
the poor, brave fellow lay on the deck, and several times exclaimed to
his shipmates, 'Fire away, boys; neber haul de color down!' Several
times he requested to be thrown overboard, saying he was only in the
way of the others. While America has such sailors she has little to
fear from the tyrants of the ocean.'"
One day, while I was listening to an account of the exploits of the
privateer Chasseur, which captured eighty vessels altogether, of which
thirty-two were of equal force to herself and eighteen superior, an
orderly came along and called out in a loud voice,--"John Crane is
wanted at Captain Shortland's office!"
Captain Shortland was the commandant of the prison. I made my toilet by
running my fingers through my hair, and then followed the orderly.
CHAPTER XXI.
RELEASED ON PAROLE.--GO TO PORTSMOUTH.--OLD FRIENDS.--DECLARATION
OF PEACE.--RETURN TO AMERICA.--WEDDING BELLS.--THE END.
It required the unlocking and opening of several doors to reach the
office of the commandant; and at each door the orderly was obliged
to exhibit a permit from the commandant for me to accompany him, or
rather, for him to be accompanied by "one prisoner." At the last of the
gates the permit was retained by the keeper; there was another gate to
be passed to get outside the prison, consequently it would have been
impossible for the orderly to set me free had he been inclined to do so.
Captain Shortland did not waste time or words in the interview between
us.
"Are you John Crane, captain of the late privateer Marguerite?" he
asked, as soon as I was brought into his presence.
"I am," I answered.
"You are to be released on parole, according to orders from London.
William Haines, your second mate, goes with you."
Then he turned instantly to another orderly, and told him to go for
William Haines. A secretary made out the necessary permit, and the
orderly departed. I waited for him to say something further to me, but
speedily found from his manner that he had nothing to say.
Watching till he paused in giving instructions to those about him, I
asked if I was to go immediately. Without looking up from his desk he
said,--
"You will leave here very soon."
"In that case I would like to go back to my quarters for a few minutes."
"What do you want to go back for?" he asked, in a tone almost of
vexation.
"I want to pack my trunks and store my furniture," I said; "and also
want to say good-by to my comrades."
The absurdity of the first half of my reason for returning seemed to
amuse him, for he smiled visibly, in spite of the austerity of his
manner. He knew that I had nothing but the clothes I stood in, and
therefore my trunk-packing and storage of furniture were flights of
fancy. He nodded assent, and told his secretary to fill out a permit.
I went back with the orderly, bade farewell to my companions in
misfortune, promised to do all I could for them, and then returned
to the commandant's office. I was not permitted to speak to any one
but those in my immediate mess, and then only in the presence of the
orderly. On reaching the office I was carefully searched to make
sure that I had no letters concealed about me. When the search was
concluded I was told to stand aside and wait orders. Haines came while
I was waiting; he asked permission to go back to say good-by to his
companions, but was abruptly refused.
We waited ten or fifteen minutes, and then were required to sign
certain papers which set forth the conditions of our parole. These were
made out in triplicate, and one copy was given to me and one to Haines,
to remind us of our promise in case we might be tempted to forget it,
and also to prove to any officer of his Majesty's service or anybody
else who had a right to know, who and what we were.
Then we received the money that was taken from us on our arrival. Ten
minutes later we were escorted out of the office and beyond the prison
gates, where a wagon was waiting. In this wagon we took seats, and
immediately set off for Plymouth, rattling along the descending road in
fine style. How different the journey was compared with our toilsome
ascent on foot!
We were taken to the office of the commandant of the Citadel, where our
papers were examined, and a letter was placed in my hand. It was from
Captain Graham, explaining the delay that had occurred in consequence
of his absence in Germany at the time my letter was posted to him. He
had obtained our release on parole, and arranged for our passage to
Portsmouth, where he was stationed. He gave me directions for finding
the office at which our passage had been secured, and told us where we
could find him when we reached Portsmouth.
We went to the office and ascertained that the packet, a schooner,
would leave the next morning for Portsmouth, and we must be on board
not later than six bells. From the office we went straight to The
Blue Anchor, and made ourselves known to Joe Waghorn, its proprietor,
telling him we had been released on parole.
"All right, mates," said he; "and where's yer papers?"
We showed him our paroles; and as soon as he had read them he said he
had something he'd been keeping for us.
The "something" was a box containing my private effects, which had been
taken from the Marguerite to the Reindeer at the time of the former's
capture, and left in the hands of her commander. Captain Woods had
taken good care of them, and so had Waghorn, as I found everything safe
and secure.
What Haines had saved from the wreck was in a canvas sack, and Waghorn
told me that the dunnage-bags of the Marguerite's men were stored in
a warehouse close by, and could be had whenever the prisoners were
liberated. The Reindeer only remained a few days in port, and had gone
to sea again in the hope of using up more American privateers.
In good time the next morning we were on board the Portsmouth packet,
which left very promptly with a favoring wind. What a delight it was
to be on the sea again, and how we enjoyed every whiff of the fresh
breeze that was blowing! It seemed to me that years had elapsed since I
last sailed the ocean; years of suffering and sorrow; but I was rapidly
forgetting them all in the delight of my newly regained liberty.
All day I remained on deck. When night came and we retired to the cabin
I was unable to sleep, so great was the ecstasy of being again afloat
and free! Haines had the same experience. He explained to me in the
morning that he found it so jolly sleeping on board ship again that he
had to lie awake to enjoy it.
We sailed up the Solent, which separates the Isle of Wight from the
mainland, and entered the roadstead of Spithead, passing the spot where
the Royal George went down in 1782. She was a man-of-war, and had been
heeled over while undergoing repairs. While in this position a gust
of wind struck her, carrying her so far over that the water rushed in
through the port-holes of the depressed side, and filled her rapidly,
so that she sank in a few minutes. Eleven hundred persons were aboard
at the time, including the admiral, all the officers and crew, and
three hundred women and children. Two hundred were saved, and all the
rest were drowned, including the admiral and nearly all the women and
children. Many of her guns have been fished up, but all attempts to
raise the hull have failed.
As we passed the spot where the wreck lies, I thought of the lines of
the poet Cowper, which were written shortly after the occurrence:--
"Toll for the brave,
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore!"
Portsmouth is an important naval and military station of England, and
has a splendid harbor, four miles long by three in width, opening upon
the magnificent roadstead of Spithead, where a thousand ships of the
line could ride at anchor, and find plenty of room. The dockyards are
very extensive; at least, that is what I was told, as we were not
permitted to visit them, nor to go about the fortifications, which were
jealously guarded against inspection by foreigners.
As soon as we had landed I wrote to the address which Captain Graham
had given me, telling of our arrival, and naming the hotel where we
were staying, which was one that had been suggested by our friend
Waghorn, of The Blue Anchor, at Plymouth. I sent the letter by a boy
who was attached to the hotel; and, two or three hours later, a note
came from the captain, telling me he had spoken for lodgings for us at
a house in Southsea, the southern suburb of Portsmouth, and advising me
to go there at once.
With the aid of the boy we moved to the lodgings, and found them very
comfortable, as well as reasonable in price. Captain Graham was living
in Southsea with his family, and the lodgings he had secured for us
were less than ten minutes' walk from his house. He invited me to
call there in the evening, and bring Haines with me. It was with much
difficulty that I persuaded the honest fellow to accompany me, as he
dreaded the tortures of sitting at table along with what he called
"fashionable folks," and even shrank from an hour upon a chair in a
parlor!
We went, and were most cordially received. On my comrade's account
I had agreed that the call should be a short one, and I took the
opportunity to whisper as much to the captain, while Haines was engaged
in conversation with Mrs. Graham and her daughters. Before we left the
house the captain asked if we were in need of anything which he could
supply. Happily I had all the money required for our present wants,
and so told him; whereupon he said he wished me to inform him promptly
whenever he could be of any service. Of course I promised to do so, and
then the subject was dropped.
I asked his advice as to our movements and conduct, now that we were
out on parole.
"I would advise" said he, "that you live here as quietly as you can, at
least for the present. The indications are that the war will not last
much longer; our government and people are getting tired of it, thanks
to the depredations of your privateers upon our commerce. We have
learned that American sailors can fight just as well as British ones;
and no man of sense in England disparages your navy at the present
time, as he was likely to do before the war broke out. The British loss
of merchantmen, of all classes, is fully twenty-three hundred, while
the American loss does not exceed five hundred. Fifty-six British war
vessels have been captured, with eight hundred and eighty cannon;
while twenty-five American war vessels with three hundred and fifty
guns have been taken by us. The game is a losing one to the British
side, and negotiations for peace are now going on!"
"And the sooner we have it the better for all concerned," I replied.
"No one will hail it more warmly than I shall."
"For one, I shall be very glad of it," said Mrs. Graham, "as I don't
like to be obliged to regard you and Mr. Haines as enemies."
"Nor we ain't no enemies, neither, Mrs. Graham," replied Haines, with
more self-possession than I had seen him display during the entire
evening; "if our countries are clawin' at each other 'tain't no reason
why we should fight!"
A few minutes later we took our leave. Next day we visited a tailor,
and procured clothing that was not likely to be remarked as foreign
garb, and from that time on we lived very quietly. I was a frequent,
almost a daily, visitor at the house of the Grahams; dined and took
tea with them quite often; walked out occasionally with the two girls;
and spent many an hour in their charming little parlor. Mrs. Graham
suggested that I ought to write the story of my adventures to pass away
the time; and it was by her prompting that I devoted my forenoons to
putting on paper the narrative which is rapidly coming to an end.
Haines amused himself by taking short strolls around Portsmouth and
its suburbs of Southsea and Portsea; but he was very cautious about
his movements, lest he might be impressed, and taken to serve on one
of his Majesty's ships. On his account I ransacked an old book-store,
and bought a supply of sea stories and other reading matter, with which
he whiled away a good many hours. He never ventured out at night, but
haunted the smoking-room of our lodging-house, where he was a general
favorite on account of his facility at spinning yarns, of which the
majority were of other material than the pure, unadulterated wool of
truth.
One morning he went out for his usual promenade, leaving me busy in my
room with my writing. He came back fully an hour before his accustomed
time, rushing into my room, very red in the face, and puffing
considerably from having walked with much more than ordinary rapidity.
He dropped into a chair, ejaculating as he did so,--
"Shiver my timbers, Captain, but there's big news!"
"What is it?" I asked, as I ceased writing and placed my pen on the
table.
"What is it! Well, the news is the two countries have made peace; and
you and me won't be the enemies of the Grahams no more."
"The captain was correct in his predictions," I replied, "when he said
the war would not last much longer. We'll have a chance to go home now;
and the first thing to look after is the liberation of the crew of the
Marguerite. I'll go at once to the Grahams' and ascertain if the news
is well founded, or only a rumor."
"Seems to me it has a good foundation," said Haines, "as they've got
a big placard up in front of the post-office, saying there's peace
between Great Britain and the United States! I heard a feller say it
came down by semaphore from London. The semaphore was a-workin' at a
lively rate; but, of course, I don't know nothin' more about it than a
cat does about boxin' the compass!"
* * * * *
The lines above these stars were the last that I wrote in my lodgings
at Southsea. It was really true that terms of peace had been agreed
upon between the two countries and the war was at an end. Great
Britain made overtures for peace as early as December, 1813, the
British government sending them to the government of the United States
by a schooner, the Bramble, bearing a flag of truce. She arrived
at Annapolis, Maryland, Jan. 1, 1814; and as soon as the President
received the communication he informed Congress, which immediately
took action.
The United States met the overtures in a spirit of conciliation, and
each of the two powers appointed three commissioners to negotiate a
treaty. When the American commissioners reached England they remained
unnoticed for some months, and then the ministry endeavored to avoid
the question by proposing several places of meeting, one after the
other, and so consumed more time. In this way half a year was used up,
and the commissioners of the two governments did not come together
until August, 1814, their meeting-place being at Ghent, in Belgium.
Four months later the treaty was signed, and it was speedily ratified
by both governments. It stipulated for the mutual restoration of
all places taken during the war, or which might be taken after the
signing of the treaty, declared that all captures made at sea, on both
sides, should be given up if made after the signing of the treaty, and
required each party to put a stop to Indian hostilities and endeavor
to suppress the slave-trade. It provided for the settlement of all
disputes about boundaries; but it left untouched the question of
impressment of seamen, which was the principal cause of the war.
But it is my opinion, in which Captain Graham agrees with me, and so
does everybody else whose views are worth considering, that Great
Britain has learned a lesson which will make her regard the rights
of Americans in future, as she has not regarded them in the past.
I venture to predict that never again will an American sailor be
impressed into the British navy, and we shall not hear again of British
officers exercising the "right of search" on the high seas. It is now
more than a year since the war ended, and there has been no report of a
single instance of search or impressment.
A few days after the arrival of the news of the treaty of peace I bade
farewell to my friends at Portsmouth and went to Plymouth, in the hope
of doing something towards the release of the crew of the Marguerite.
But all my efforts, even when backed by the influence of Captain Graham
and other officials, were of no avail. I was not allowed to see the
prisoners, or even to communicate with them, and they did not know of
the end of the war until fully three months after the signing of the
treaty of peace. Even then the inmates of Dartmoor prison obtained the
intelligence surreptitiously, and not officially, and from that time on
they were in daily expectation of release.
The delay of the authorities in making arrangements for sending them
home caused much impatience among the prisoners, and they became
mutinous. On the 4th of April, 1815, they declined to receive the hard
biscuit that was served to them, and demanded bread. Two days later
many of them refused to retire to their quarters when ordered to do so;
and they displayed such a spirit of rebellion that Captain Shortland
ordered the soldiers to fire upon them. Five prisoners were killed, and
thirty wounded. The Americans regarded the affair as a wanton massacre,
while the British claim that it was justifiable under the circumstances.
Finding that we could accomplish nothing, and that the interests of the
prisoners, when released, would be looked after by the American consul
at Plymouth, Haines and I, having been liberated from our paroles,
embraced the opportunity of coming home on a brig that was leaving
Plymouth for New York. Before leaving, we told the consul where the
dunnage-bags of the Marguerite's crew could be found, and put him into
communication with Joe Waghorn, of The Blue Anchor. The day before
we sailed we had the good fortune to meet our old friend and captor,
Captain Woods, who had been appointed into the Royal Navy; and, if I
may use Haines's expression, "had brass enough about his uniform to
make a cannon of!"
When we reached New York, the first man I asked for was David Taylor,
my old schoolmate, friend, and shipmate.
"He was luckier than you were," said the head clerk of the owners of
the Marguerite and Hyacinth, "as he came into port all right and safe,
though he was badly cut up and didn't believe he could have kept afloat
three days longer. He had thrown overboard all his guns and shot in
order to lighten his schooner while being chased by two men-of-war, so
that he required a new armament. By the time the Hyacinth was ready
for sea again the probabilities of peace became so great that the
owners decided not to send her out. Taylor went to his old home in New
Hampshire, and he's there yet; but I believe he'll be back soon to take
command of a vessel that is to sail for the West Indies. Oh! here's a
letter for you that came several days ago."
I saw that the letter was from David, and so I stepped aside and opened
it. It contained good news from all the members of both our families,
and the announcement that, after another year or so of sea-life, he
would abandon the career of a sailor and settle down on shore. His
share of the proceeds of the captures by the Hyacinth was sufficient
to make him and family comfortable; but he said he did not propose to
live a life of idleness. He had not fully made up his mind what to do,
but thought he would buy a farm a few miles from New York, and devote a
large share of his time to its management.
Haines and Herne decided that they were getting too old for sea-life;
their prize money, in addition to previous savings, was sufficient for
all their wants; and after many consultations they decided to become
farmers. They went into partnership and bought a small farm on Long
Island, about seven miles back of Brooklyn, and with it an assortment
of live-stock, including horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and chickens.
They have two horses and a pair of oxen. The horses have been named
Foremast and Mizzen, and the oxen bear the nautical appellations of
Starboard and Larboard, their position when under the yoke being
indicated by their names. Their three cows are Washington, Hyacinth,
and Marguerite, and the greediest of the pigs is designated by the
name of one of the sailors of the old Washington who was famed for his
abilities in the eating line. Haines told me, when I visited them, that
the horses and oxen were bothered a good deal at first by the nautical
expressions of their masters instead of "gee!" and "haw!" to which they
had been accustomed, but a few weeks set them all right.
"Them oxen knows what 'Belay!' means just as well as I do," said
Haines; "and you ought to see old Foremast and Mizzen heel over to
leeward and lay to their work when I calls out 'Give way, boys!' They
make me proud that I'm a farmer."
While Herne was feeding the pigs and chickens, Haines and I took a
stroll over the farm in the direction of its western boundary. I
remarked that their neighbor had a good house; whereupon Haines became
visibly embarrassed, and with some hesitation told me that the house
was the property of a nice widow, and her farm was quite as large and
good as the one possessed by the two sailors.
"Are you acquainted with the widow?" I asked.
"Yes,--that is, Herne's acquainted with her, and I know her somewhat.
Fact is, Herne's engaged to her, and I'm engaged to her sister, who
lives with her, and we're to have a double wedding here about a month
from now. Herne's going to live on the widder's farm; I'll buy him out
in this; and we'll hope to be neighbors and friends a good many years.
Won't you come out to the weddin', Cap'n, if you're not away at sea
when it comes off?"
I promised the good fellow I would do so, and I did; and one of the
members of the firm went along with me. We had an enjoyable time, and
an opportunity for seeing many of the inhabitants of that region who
had been invited to the affair. Most of them were of Dutch descent;
and the two sisters who respectively became Mrs. Haines and Mrs. Herne
showed in their substantial figures and ruddy faces that they were
descended from the people who emigrated from the dykes and marshes
of Holland to live under the rule of Peter Stuyvesant and Wouter Van
Twiller.
As for myself, I've abandoned the sea, and hope to spend the rest of
my days on solid ground. The owners for whom I have sailed have made
me some excellent offers, and if I needed the money you may be sure I
should be off very soon on another voyage. I think I shall buy a farm
near New York, marry, and settle down; and if time hangs heavy on my
hands I can lighten it by running over in memory my experiences as a
sailor in peace and war.
THE END.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Captain John Crane, 1800-1815" ***
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