Chapter XX. DECLARATION OF WAR
On our passage to New York we met with no remarkable occurrence, and saw not a cruiser of any nation. On reaching the city, we found that an extraordinary excitement prevailed. War had been declared against Great Britain; an American fleet under Commodore Rodgers had sailed the day before on a cruise. The frigate Essex was at Brooklyn with a complete and gallant crew, and her commander, Captain Porter, was making preparations for an immediate departure. This brave officer made no secret of his intention to bring the enemy to close quarters whenever a chance offered, and proclaimed throughout the frigate that any man who repented having shipped might receive his discharge.
One man only of the hundreds composing the crew availed himself of the captain's proclamation, under the plausible pretext that he was an Englishman. But it having been ascertained that so far from being a loyal subject of the king of Great Britain, he was a native-born Yankee with a cowardly spirit, his shipmates were so indignant that they tarred and feathered him, carried him over to New York, placed a placard on his breast, formed a procession, and paraded him through the streets.
There was a great bustle about the wharves in New York, although of a different kind from that which prevailed two months previous in consequence of the embargo. Clippers of all kinds and sizes were bought up at enormous prices, and rapidly transformed into privateers and letters of marque. Heavy guns, instead of bales of goods, were dragged through the streets by dray horses, and muskets, cutlasses, and boarding pikes met the eye at every turn. Fierce-looking men with juvenile mustachios jostled each other in the streets, and even the dapper clerks and peaceable artisans swore deeper oaths and assumed more swaggering airs. News of naval battles was anxiously looked for, startling rumors of all kinds were afloat, and every vessel which arrived was supposed to be fraught with momentous intelligence respecting the cruisers on the coast. I noted these proceedings, caught the spirit of enthusiasm, and sympathized in the excitement which so universally prevailed. I told Captain Thompson I had made up my mind to join a privateer. To this remark the worthy skipper made no reply but by a smile, which I interpreted as an approval of my determination.
One of my first acts, however, was to call on Hansen, the keeper of the boarding house where I had formerly resided, and discharge my debt. I resumed possession of my chest and books, which I regarded as my greatest treasure. I had recovered from my lameness. I was strong and active, and although poorly off for clothing or worldly goods, was free from debt, and had a couple of dollars which I could call my own. My condition had decidedly improved; the prospect ahead began to brighten, and I felt able and anxious to perform a manly part in any noble enterprise.
I took an early opportunity to look around the wharves, and examine the privateers that were getting ready for a cruise. Two of these vessels particularly commanded my admiration, the Teaser and the Paul Jones. The Teaser was a New York pilot boat of ninety tons burden, a rakish, wicked-looking clipper enough. Her armament consisted chiefly of one long eighteen-pounder amidships. The Paul Jones was a large schooner of two hundred and twenty tons, heavily rigged, with immense spars, a spacious deck, and of a genuine buccaneer model. The armament of this privateer consisted of one long twenty-four-pounder and twelve heavy carronades.
After the deliberation I fixed upon the Paul Jones as the more desirable vessel. The warlike preparations and rakish appearance of this schooner looked like BUSINESS, and I had seen the insolence of John Bull so often exhibited on the broad highway of nations, and had so often listened to his taunts and sneers in ridicule of the prowess of the Yankees, that I longed for an opportunity to lend a hand to give him a drubbing. I stepped on board and inquired of an officer who seemed busy in giving directions, if I could have a chance in the privateer. He asked me a few questions, to which I gave satisfactory answers. He said there were many applications of a similar character, but he thought he could insure me a situation; told me to call next day at two o'clock, when the agent would be on board, and the matter could be arranged.
The important part which the American privateers bore in the last war with Great Britain is well known. They were fitted out in every port, manned by brave and active men, and heavily armed. Managed with seaman-like dexterity, and superior in sailing capacity to vessels belonging to any other nation, they could not be easily captured. The injury inflicted on the commerce of Great Britain by these privateers is incalculable. They carried terror among our enemies in the remotest parts of the ocean, and the desire of the British government to put an end to the war may, in part, be attributed to the activity, courage, and enterprise of our privateers. The principle has been adopted in all ages, that private property, captured on the high seas, is a lawful prize to the captors; also, that the destruction of private property belonging to an enemy is a justifiable act. To a well-constituted mind it must appear, on investigation, that such principles are unjust, belong to a barbarous age, and cannot be advocated on any platform of ethics recognized among civilized nations in modern times.
An attempt was made within a few years on the part of Great Britain, which also met the approval of the French government, TO ABOLISH THE PRIVATEER SYSTEM, on the ground that this mode of warfare is wrong in principle, irregular subject to abuses, and to a certain extent irresponsible. A proposition was made to our government to be a party to an agreement to abolish the system forever. Under the cloak of Christian philanthropy this was a master stroke or policy on the part of the British and French governments. Should the privateer system be abolished and a war unhappily take place between this country and France or Great Britain, either of those nations, with myriads of heavily armed men-of-war, could overrun the ocean, and every American merchantman venturing to sea would be captured or burned; our own commerce would be annihilated, while OUR FEW NATIONAL SHIPS, scattered over a large surface, could offer but little check to the commercial pursuits of an enemy.
Our government met the proposition in a manly manner, and while it declined entering into any agreement which had for its exclusive object the abolition of the privateer system, a measure which would inure chiefly to the advantage of Great Britain or France, it went further, and declared itself ready to accede to any arrangement by which, during a war, private property of every character should be exempted from capture, not only by privateers but NATIONAL VESSELS. This noble suggestion, worthy a great nation in an enlightened age, did not meet the views of our friends across the water. This broad Christian principle, if carried out, would deprive them of many advantages they might reasonably expect to derive from their numerous ships of war.
It must be evident that in case of a war between this country and a mighty naval power, which we trust will never occur, the many large "clipper ships," which compose a large portion of our commercial marine, will be provided with screw propellers, and transformed into privateers. Armed with guns of the heaviest metal, unequalled in speed, and able to select their distance and position, they will prove a formidable means of defence and aggression; and will do much towards protecting our own commerce while they will destroy that of the enemy.
With a buoyant heart I left the proud and warlike looking privateer, Paul Jones, and proceeded to the slip where the schooner Mary lay. For this vessel, looking so demure and Quaker-like, I very ungratefully began to entertain feelings akin to contempt. She was now taking in cargo and was expected to sail in a few days on her return to Newbern. When Captain Thompson came on board, I told him I had engaged to join the privateer Paul Jones, which vessel was about to sail on a cruise. He seemed greatly astonished, and abruptly asked me what I meant by such conduct. I explained my intentions more at length, and referred to the notice I had given of my wish to join a privateer.
"I had no idea you were serious," said the captain. "I thought you intended it as a joke. I didn't suppose you were such a confounded fool as to think seriously of joining a privateer."
"Why, sir, what can I do better? Our merchant ships will be laid up or captured on the high seas. Even the coasting trade will be destroyed by British cruisers stationed along the whole extent of our coast. If I return to Newbern, I shall probably be thrown out of employment; a stranger in a small place, and almost as destitute as when I first shipped on board the Mary. I have pondered on the subject, and am convinced that my best course is to go a privateering."
"Go to Beelzebub, you mean!" exclaimed the captain, in a rage. "I have no patience with you. You talk nonsense. The schooner will not be laid up on her return to Newbern. And, furthermore, you have signed a contract to perform a voyage from Newbern to New York AND BACK! And I shall hold you to your agreement. Go a privateering! Pah!"
We had some further discussion, in the midst of which Mr. Jarvis, the owner of the schooner, who had arrived in New York a day or two before from North Carolina, came on board. He was a dignified-looking man, greatly respected and esteemed in Newbern. He espoused captain Thompson's side of the argument, assured me it was unlikely his vessels would be laid up on account of the war, and would promise me that in any event I should not be thrown out of employment. If his vessels remained idle at the wharves, he would find business for me in his counting room until more propitious times.
The united remonstrances of the captain and the owner of the Mary came with a force I was unable to resist; with a strong effort I gulped down my disappointment, and gave up my darling project of making a cruise in the Paul Jones. Our fortunes in this life our destinies seem sometimes balanced on a pivot which a breath will turn. Had I accomplished my intention and embarked on a cruise, how different my fate, in all likelihood, would have been!
We left New York about the 2d of July. After having reached the offing, while pursuing our course with diligence towards Cape Hatteras, we were overhauled by a New York pilot boat of the smallest size, apparently bound in the same direction. This little schooner was in ballast, and skimmed over the seas like a Mother Carey's chicken; ranged up on our weather quarter and hailed us. It proved to be the Young Pilot, Captain Moncrieff, bound to Savannah. The mate, whose name was Campbell, was known to Captain Thompson. They had been boarders in the same house. After an interchange of salutations and hearty wishes for a pleasant voyage, the little schooner rapidly drew ahead and passed on her way. There was nothing remarkable in this incident. I little thought at the time that this egg-shell of a vessel was destined to exercise an important influence on the future events of my life.
On the morning of the Fourth of July we were off the Chesapeake Bay, some twelve or fifteen miles from Cape Henry. Captain Thompson was a sterling patriot. He dearly loved his country, and gladly caught at every chance to display the broad flag of the Union. Accordingly, on this memorable day the gorgeous ensign was hoisted at the peak, the American jack waved at the fore-topmast head, and a long pennant fell in wavy folds from the main truck.
"If I had a big gun," exclaimed the worthy skipper, in a paroxysm of patriotism "a thirty-two-pound carronade, I would fire a genuine republican salute, and make such a thundering noise, not only in the air above but in the depths below, as to wake up the lazy inhabitants of the deep, and make them peep out of their caves to ask the cause of the terrible rumpus over their heads." At this very moment a suspicious-looking, double-headed cloud was slowly rising in the west, and ere long spread over a large space in the heavens. As it rolled onward, flashes of lightning were seen and a distant rumbling was heard a thunder squall was at hand. The lightning became more vivid, and the thunder more frequent and deafening. Every sail was lowered to the deck, the helm was put hard a-port, and the gust came upon us with terrible fury. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning kept the atmosphere in a constant state of illumination, and the peals of thunder were truly appalling! A grander salute, or a more brilliant and effective display of fireworks on the Fourth of July, could hardly have been wished by the most enthusiastic patriot. Even Captain Thompson's longings for "a thundering noise" were more than realized. He stood firmly on the break of the quarter-deck, surrounded by most of the crew, who seemed to gather near him for protection, astonished and terrified at the sublimity of the scene.
I was standing on the main deck, not far from the rest of the crew at the time, and noticed that when the storm struck the schooner, some ropes that had not been hitched to a belaying pin were flying loose and might become unrove. I stepped forward, and standing on tiptoe was in the act of stretching up my right arm to grasp the end of the peak-halliards, when there came a flash of white lightning which almost blinded every man on deck, accompanied by a peal of thunder that seemed loud enough to shake the world to its centre. We all believed the schooner had been struck by lightning. This was not the case. It was, nevertheless, a narrow escape. I received on my hand and arm an electric shock, which tingled through every nerve and nearly felled me to the deck, and rendered my arm powerless for an hour afterwards.
The captain now seemed really alarmed. He ordered me in a loud voice to come aft, and told the crew to follow him into the cabin, leaving the schooner to manage matters with the thunder storm and take care of herself. He produced a bottle of "old Madeira" from a locker, and filled several glasses; and while the short-lived storm raged fearfully above our heads, he insisted on every man drinking a toast in honor of the Fourth of July, and set the example himself by tossing off a tumbler filled to the brim.
We rounded Cape Hatteras early one delightful morning, and with a pleasant breeze from the northward shaped our course for Ocracoke Inlet. Several coasters were in company, and a small schooner was seen standing towards us from the Gulf Stream. This vessel was soon recognized as the Young Pilot, bound to Savannah, which we had spoken off Sandy Hook. The captain of the little schooner appeared to recognize the Mary, hoisted his colors, and steered directly towards us.
"What can that fellow want?" muttered Captain Thompson. "He should have been in Savannah before this? What has he been doing away there in the Gulf Stream? There is roguery somewhere?"
The Young Pilot soon came within hail, when Captain Moncrieff requested Captain Thompson to heave to, as he wanted to come on board. The boat was launched from the deck of the pilot boat, and, manned by four athletic seamen, brought Captain Moncrieff alongside in handsome style. He jumped on deck, grasped the hand of Captain Thompson, and requested to have some conversation with him in the cabin. They were absent communing together for several minutes, when Captain Thompson thrust his head out of the companion-way, and looking round, caught my eye. He beckoned me to enter the cabin.
"What's in the wind now?" thought I to myself. "What part am I to play in this mysterious drama? Something better than reading doomsday pamphlets, I hope."
I went down into the cabin. "Here," said Captain Thompson to Captain Moncrieff, pointing to me, "is the only person on board my vessel who would think of accompanying you on your voyage. I would gladly assist you in your unpleasant dilemma, but I cannot advise him to go with you. Nevertheless, if he is willing I shall make no objection."
Captain Moncrieff gazed upon me with a look of deep interest. "Young man," said he, "you are aware I sailed from New York the same day with the Mary. My vessel was cleared at the custom house for Savannah; this was necessary in consequence of the embargo; but I was in reality bound for LaGuayra, on the Spanish Main, being the bearer of despatches of importance to a ship belonging to New York. On egging off to the eastward, to cross the Gulf Stream, my crew, convinced that Savannah was not my destined port, began to murmur. And when I acknowledged I was bound to the Spanish Main, they, one and all, refused to proceed further on the voyage, and insisted on my running into some port on the coast. I have told Captain Thompson that if I can procure ONE MAN from his schooner, I will leave these mutinous fellows with him and proceed on my voyage. Say, then, my good fellow, that you will go with me. I will allow you twenty dollars a month, and a month's pay in advance more if you wish it. You shall receive good treatment, and will always find a friend in Archibald Moncrieff."
When the captain of the pilot-boat, who seemed much excited, finished his narrative, I quietly answered without hesitation, "I WILL GO WITH YOU."
He grasped my hand, gave it a hearty shake, and said, "I thank you. You shall have no cause to regret your decision. Pack up your things, my lad, and be ready to go on board when I return."
He entered his yawl, and was soon on the deck of the pilot-boat. It took me but a few minutes to get ready for my departure. Captain Thompson said not a word, but looked thoughtful and dejected. He appeared already to regret having been so easily persuaded to accommodate Captain Moncrieff, by granting me permission to embark on this uncertain expedition.
It was not long before the yawl returned from the little schooner, laden with chests, bags, and bundles, and having on board the captain, four seamen, and the cook. The luggage was tumbled out of the boat in short order; my chest was deposited in the stern seats. I shook hands with my old shipmates, took an affectionate leave of Captain Thompson, who had always treated me with the kindness of a father, and entered the boat. Captain Moncrieff took one oar, I took another, and in a few minutes I stood on the deck of the Young Pilot. A tackle was hooked on to the yawl, which was, which was hoisted in and snugly stowed on deck; the helm was put up, the fore-sheet hauled to leeward, and, before I had time to realize this change in my situation, I found myself in a strange vessel, with strange companions, bound on a strange voyage to the Spanish Main.