A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
BY JAMES BARNES.
CHAPTER XXI.
TAKING A PRIZE.
had found a little box, that had just room enough for a bunk and a narrow cupboard, at the foot of the forecastle ladder, and this I took possession of, as, of course, it would not do for me to mess or bunk in with the crew. There was a fine ten-knot breeze blowing when I was awakened the next morning, and the little cutter was dipping into the waves gracefully like a Mother Cary's chicken. Every one was in high spirits. All idea of my being a Jonah had faded from the minds of the crew. Yet I was filled with a huge disappointment. A bitter, miserable sensation had firm hold of me. I saw what an injudicious and, mayhap, an unkind thing I had done, and regretted that I had not been more strenuous in my efforts to keep Mr. Middleton from carrying out his intentions of leaving the Cæsar; but I believe that if I should have urged strongly against it, the cruise of the Bat would have ended there and then.
At eight bells in the morning watch I saw Mr. Middleton come on deck. I noted that he held his wig on with one hand as he approached. I lifted my hat and bowed politely.
"A word with you," began the old gentleman. "It is evident that you never had any intention of touching at Dublin."
"That, sir," I returned, "is the truth; I never had. Would you suppose it possible for an American crew to sail into a hostile harbor in a captured vessel and get out again?"
"You played the joke well on the Englishmen," he said.
"Yes; but they were Englishmen," I answered. "The Irish might be quicker-witted."
I knew that he was an Irishman, for he had a genteel touch of the brogue.
"Look here, my young sir," he rejoined; "I am a wealthy man, and my word is as good as a written and sworn-to bond. If you will land me on the coast of Ireland, anywhere, I will give you a thousand pounds."
"No money could tempt me," I replied, "to place the freedom of my crew in jeopardy; but this I have determined; if I meet a vessel bound for Europe, and can do so without risk, I intend to place you and your granddaughter Mistress Tanner on board of her. More than this it is beyond my power to do."
"You just spoke Miss Tanner's name," said the old man, looking at me fiercely; "and when we came on board, your forwardness in speaking was most noticeable. I pray you, do you claim acquaintance?"
"Sir," I returned, "it is as the lady says."
"She says you are a stranger to her," answered the old man, grimly.
"So be it," I replied, and turned upon my heel.
I did not see anything of Mary that day, but late in the evening she and her grandfather came on deck, and, arm in arm, walked up and down the weather side of the quarter-deck, I giving over to them, and pacing up and down the opposite side of the mainsail; but my heart was big to bursting, and I was tempted again and again to step around the mast, and standing there face to face with the girl that had given me the rose, demand an explanation. Oh, woman! who can account for your strange actions or analyze the motives of your inconsistencies?
As they went below, I happened to be standing so close that my presence could not be ignored, nor could I, without seeming rudeness, avoid speaking.
"I hope you and the young lady are quite comfortable, Mr. Middleton," I said, bowing. "If there is anything in my power I can do to add to your comfort, I pray you to command me."
Purposely I avoided looking at Mary as I spoke, and yet I was conscious that her eyes were full upon my face. She stood a little apart from her grandfather, and her little foot was tapping the deck impatiently. Mr. Middleton acknowledged my salutation, and replied with a certain peevishness that is shared by the very old or the very young.
"The only thing that you can do is to redeem your promise, and set us on some vessel bound for Great Britain," he returned.
"I shall endeavor thus to redeem myself," I said. And then the two went below, leaving me leaning back against the boom with a leaden heart.
We were carrying a great square topsail, and kicking up a great smother forward that showed that we were travelling well. The man at the tiller was humming softly to himself, the crew were lolling forward, when I saw my First Lieutenant approach. I noticed from his expression that he wished to speak to me.
"Well, Mr. Chips," said I, "and what is it?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," he returned, "but hadn't you better take a squint at the sun and see where we are? It's near high noon."
I was in a quandary, for, as I have stated previously, I knew nothing of navigation—that is, the science of it.
"Well, Mr. Chips," I said, "do you suppose I don't know where I am?"
"The sextant is in the cabin, sir. But there is another thing," he added, touching his cap. "Would you mind calling me by my real name?"
"Why, isn't it Chips?" I exclaimed in surprise, not knowing that this was the nickname applied to every carpenter afloat.
"My name is Philemon Cutterwaite," he answered, quietly.
As of course I had no intention to hurt his feelings, I repressed a smile, merely saying, "Very good, Mr. Cutterwaite; I shall endeavor to remember it."
"Thank you, sir," was the reply. "Shall I get the instruments and take the time?"
As he spoke he stepped to the head of the companion-ladder and knocked. I could think of no excuse for the moment for detaining him, and taking my silence for consent, he obeyed the answer from below to enter, and disappeared. But in an instant he came on deck.
"Captain Hurdiss," he said, "the chronometer has stopped. We must have forgotten to wind it, sir—bad fortune!"
"Then there is no sight for to-day," I said, much relieved.
"I suppose not," was the grumbling answer. And then the good fellow went below.
I messed alone, either on deck or in my box of a cabin; and I had just finished my evening meal when one of the crew who had been aloft came down to the forecastle and reported that there was a sail in sight to the westward. When I came on deck I could just make out a faint spot against the sunset sky, but what course the vessel was holding I could not make out even with the aid of a glass. It was dead calm, and the Bat rolled lazily about, fetching up with a jerk of her heavy boom that would send an echolike sound rolling up the great mainsail.
In my absence Mr. Cutterwaite, as I shall call him hereafter, had given some orders, and I saw that some of the crew were making ready to get rolling tackle on her, as a preventive of the danger of carrying anything away by the slapping and romping of the vessel. The sea that was running must have been the aftermath, so to speak, of a heavy blow, for it rolled from the southward, smooth and round, with not a ripple on the crest or a dimple to be seen on the sides of the waves.
The sun was going down behind a streaky line of clouds that crossed the western sky in such a peculiar manner that, as they caught the red sunset color, the whole west resembled nothing so much as a great American flag. Even the stars were there, shining in the blue field. I was standing looking at it in admiration, when I turned suddenly and saw that Mary Tanner had come on deck, and was regarding the sight with wide-open eyes. Probably she had not seen me, but I determined to speak to her, and so came closer.
"It is our flag yonder," I said, pointing.
She gave a little frown, as if I had interrupted some pleasant thought.
"I see it," she answered, turning her head half away; and with this she descended to the cabin again.
Such a starlit night as this was I can never recollect seeing. The calm continued, and as it was warm I brought up a blanket to lie on, and determined to pass the night on deck. As I lay there watching the topmast sway to and fro against the besprinkled heavens, I fell into wondering what was going to become of me—what should I do when I returned to America. I could not imagine; and it seemed to me that it was impossible that Mary Tanner, whom I had grown to think of as the one person in the world who might be interested in my life (ah, the beloved picture of her waiting for me!) was here within sound of my voice; here in my keeping, as it were; and yet affairs were sadly different from what I had hoped or supposed they would be.
I was lying with my head almost on the edge of the hatch combing, when I thought I heard the sound of something like a sigh or a long-drawn breath. I raised myself on my elbow, and there she was standing not three feet from me. I could have placed my hand over hers if I had so chosen.
"Mary," I said, softly. She gave a little gasp and turned.
"Pray do not go until you have heard a few words that I wish to say," I went on, leaning forward. "If my speaking to you is disagreeable, I shall not repeat the offence a second time. Listen! I had not thought to carry you away, but I had hoped some day to find you. In prison I thought of this, and as a free man the hope has been before my eyes. Now there is nothing left. I have naught to offer you, but some day there may come a time when I can do so." I was urged to speak thus by I know not what. "You think that I am but a common sailor. I am—"
"Oh, pray do not explain further, Monsieur le Marquis," she interrupted. "I suppose that you were going on to speak of your estates and titles."
I started.
"What do you mean?" I said. "What do you know, anyhow?"
"Only what Gaston informed every one in Stonington," she said. "Poor loon! they would have put him in the mad-house. But you were going on to say, you are—"
"A plain American seaman," I returned, "who would give his life to serve you."
I had risen to my feet and stood there looking at her. I thought for a moment that her look had softened as I spoke, but just then Mr. Middleton's voice interrupted us from the cabin.
"Mary, child," he called, "where are you?"
"I am here," she answered, and she jumped below, almost into the frightened old man's arms. I clinched my teeth, and there was no sleep for me that night.
In the early morning hours it clouded a little, and an intermittent breeze blew up from the south. At daybreak we discovered the sail that had been sighted the evening before, about three miles distant, bearing a few points off our weather bow. She was a small ship, and at the first glance at her Mr. Cutterwaite pronounced her English. We changed our course, and at the same moment the vessel did hers also, and when about a mile distant she broke out her flag.
"A Portuguese, by David!" exclaimed Dugan.
"We'd better try the British Jack, sir," suggested the carpenter.
I acquiesced, and soon the Bat's natural colors were flying over us. Instantly down went the Portuguese emblem, and up went that of England. The ship had come up into the wind, and was waiting for us with her maintop-sail aback and her foresheets fluttering. Suddenly I noticed that she had dropped four ports, and through the glass I noticed one of the guns run in and the toss of a sponge handle. Instantly the risk we were running crossed my mind.
"Stand by to cast loose and provide those guns," I said, holding the Bat up a few points so as to lessen our speed. "Arm all hands," I added.
We were a fair bit less than one-third the size of the vessel we were nearing, and I saw that the men cast rather furtive glances at her as they set about obeying orders.
"Men," I said, "we do not intend to fight that vessel. I just wish to speak to her; but be ready."
"If fight we must, why, fight we will," said Dugan, with a grin.
I called down into the cabin.
"Mr. Middleton," I said, "you can get your baggage, sir. I judge we will soon part company."
In ten minutes we were almost within hailing distance, and the old gentleman came on deck, followed immediately by Mary. Her eyes were red, as if she had been weeping. It required all the strength of will I had to keep my lip from quivering as I raised my hat and wished her a polite good-morning. There was a strange wistful glance that I could not fathom that she threw at me, and then she turned her head aside. I had donned the uniform of my unknown namesake, and leaning against the lee shrouds, I raised my voice and hallooed,
"What ship is that?"
"The Lord Lennox, from Quebec to Liverpool. What cutter is that?"
"His Majesty's sloop Bat, from Dublin to Quebec," I answered.
"What do you want of us?" was the inquiry of a short thick-set man in a beaver hat, who had mounted the rail.
"Can you take two passengers back with you to England?" I replied.
The man on the rail turned as if he were speaking to some one behind him, and giving no answer to this, jumped down out of sight.
"Look out for treachery," cried the carpenter, suddenly. And no sooner had he spoken than the forward gun, an 18-pound carronade, roared out, and the shot plumped through our mainsail.
"Below with you," I cried, dodging under the boom, and hastening Mr. Middleton toward the cabin with a push. "Below for your dear life," I cried to Mary as she followed him.
Without orders one of my men had fired the forward 6-pounder into the hull of the ship, and seeing that our only hope was to get so close that they could not depress their guns enough to hit us, I jammed down the tiller, and we shot up close under the vessel's side. Her three other guns were discharged over our heads, and away went our topmast, and the tip of our gaff with the colors on it. So close were we that a burning wad fell on our deck. The other 6-pounder was discharged, and ripped a great hole in the ship but a few feet above the water-line. And now we were in for it! With a slight jar we grazed along the ship's side, and the wounded gaff tangled, in her fore-shrouds.
"There's nothing for it but to board," I cried.
"Boarders away for the spar-deck!" roared Dugan, as he sprang for the chains, followed by all hands in a wild scramble.
Perhaps the cheer that we gave sounded as if there were many more of us. I saw Dugan's pistol flash as he threw his leg over the bulwark overhead. It was answered by a volley, and the poor fellow with a cry fell back into the arms of the next man below him. By almost pushing those ahead of me out of the way, I had managed to be among the foremost. Somebody gave me a leg up from behind, and I shot over the ship's rail on to the forecastle. But I was not alone. To a man the crew of the Bat were with me, and there before us, gathered in the waist, were a score or more of seamen who were scrambling forward to meet our onslaught. They outnumbered us, but we were better armed, and (if I say it, who should not) we were better fighters. I had felt a sharp twinge of pain go through my left shoulder when I had fallen forward, but, getting to my feet, I was soon in the midst of the cutting, shouting, and firing.
Before me stood a thick-set middle-aged man, who hurled a smoking pistol full at me. It grazed my head as I dodged, and my cutlass rang against the weapon he carried in his right hand, an old Scottish claymore with a basket hilt, and a blade some three inches longer than my own. With an oath he made a slash at me that would have brought me to my knees had I not turned it. At the same time, with a sidewise stroke I reached him beneath the armpit, and almost lifted the limb from his body. He fell backward with a howl. I had but noticed this when from the side some one caught me a clip over the head that severed my cocked hat like a pumpkin and sent my senses flying. I stumbled, for I could not for the life of me keep my feet, and down I went.
When I came to I was first conscious of a tremendous throbbing in my temples, and opening my eyes I saw that I was below in the little cabin with the miniatures on the bulkheads. It was but a glimpse of consciousness I had, but in that glimpse I felt a soothing touch laid on my brow. Raising my eyes my heart leaped, for it was Mary bathing my head with a cold wet cloth. The joy of it may have sent me off again, for I remembered no more until I was awakened by the sound of whispering. Looking up, I saw that Cutterwaite and Mr. Middleton were standing alongside.
"Well," I said, faintly, "how fares it?"
"Another prize, Captain Hurdiss, and a good one," said Chips, bending over me. "We took the ship, sir and she's in our wake. We're not five hundred miles off Cape Cod. The wind's fair, and all's a-taunt-o."
Oh, I could have cried for the joy of it, but at this instant the curtain that had partitioned off the cabin was drawn aside, and I heard a soft voice ask,
"Is he speaking?"
"Mary!" I said, tremulously.
Mr. Middleton and the carpenter stepped to the other side of the curtain, and the one whom I had always dreamed of as waiting for me came near.
There was no pride or anger in her face, and her voice shook as she said, softly,
"Sh-h-h—you must not speak!"
I PUT OUT MY HAND AND SHE TOOK IT.
I put out my hand. She took it and sank down at the side of the bunk.
"John dear, forgive me," was all she said; and then—and then— Well, what is the use of telling more? Women are strange creatures. But suffice it. I had, of a truth, taken the fairest prize in all the world. How she had won the old gentleman to her way of thinking I do not pretend to tell. I have never asked, nor did he inform me. But some women have a way with them against which there is no gainsaying. Mr. Middleton is a wise man, and this may account for it. But I was not the only one under Mary's care. Dugan and three others were wounded lying in the forecastle; but I am glad to here record, so far as I know, they are at this moment well and hearty. On the fourth day I was on deck when land was sighted. It was my own country that lay off to the westward. I, the happiest man in all the world, was home again.
Thus ended my adventures. Since then I have made many cruises in my own vessels, always knowing that there was waiting for me when I returned the dearest little woman in the world, and were I a nobleman with vast estates I could be no wit happier, nor could I be so happy as I am at this very moment. Of that I am sure.
There is just a half-page left of this old ledger. As my story is done, I can but go over it again; and in looking back, what a strange record I have made here, for I began as a child without a name and without a country, who chose both for himself. I had been a mysterious waif in a Connecticut village, an instructor in small-arms on board a privateer, an English prisoner of war, a French nobleman among the refugees in England, a lieutenant of a fine schooner, and the commander of two vessels, all inside of a week; yes, and had I not been a robber also? For I robbed an English officer and a scare-crow of their clothes, and an old man of his granddaughter. (Of the last I am prouder than I can tell in calm words.) And now I am a prosperous ship-owner, with nothing in this wide world to wish for, except that I were a better scribe. Oh, I might set down that I learned, of course, of the death of my uncle, and found out that Gaston had disappeared with the belongings of Belair; no one knew whither. I was sorry for this, for there was much that I would like to have possessed. As for any other title than that of an American citizen, I care not so much as the snap of my finger; nor would my sons, I am sure, even if they had but to extend their hands to grasp it. They may read in this a great deal that their father has not told them, but it could make no difference, I am sure, in our relations toward one another.
One thing more—I returned all the personal effects found in the Bat's cabin to my namesake who lives in Sussex, England.