A BOY OF 1775.
BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.
Can you not see the boy of 1775 now—his sturdy legs encased in stout black stockings, german-silver buckles to his knee-breeches, his hair plaited and tied with a smart black ribbon, and all this magnificence topped by three real silver buttons with which his hat is rakishly cocked? But the boy himself is better worth looking at than all his finery—so thought Captain Moore, of his Majesty's ship Margaretta, lying at anchor in the harbor of Machias. Jack Leverett was the boy's name—a handsome stripling of sixteen, with a quiet manner but a fearless eye.
The two were sitting opposite each other at the cabin table, and through the open port they could see the village and the harbor, bathed in the bright white light of a day in May. The Captain was conscious that this young guest was decidedly in a hurry to leave. A whole hour had they sat at the dinner table, Captain Moore, with the utmost art, trying to find out Jack's errand to Machias—for those were the stirring days when every American had to take his stand for or against King George—and Captain Moore particularly desired to know how Squire Leverett, Jack's father, stood toward the King. But Jack, with native mother-wit, had managed to baffle the Captain. He had readily admitted that he was the bearer of a letter from his father to Jerry O'Brien, master of Squire Leverett's sloop Priscilla, in regard to heaving down the sloop. But the Captain, with a seaman's eye, had noted that the Priscilla was in perfect order and did not need to be hove down, and he more than suspected that Jack was the bearer of other and more important news. Through the cabin windows they could see the sloop, a beautiful craft, being warped into her dock, while across the blue water was wafted sweetly the voices of the men, led by the shanty man,[1] singing the old shanty song:
"Haul the bowline, our jolly ship's a-rolling,
Haul the bowline, the bowline haul!
Haul the bowline, our jolly mate's a-growling,
Haul the bowline, the bowline haul!"
As soon as Jack decently could, he started to rise from the table. Captain Moore had observed that the glass of wine at Jack's plate remained untasted, and it suggested a means of finding out whether the Leveretts meant to go with the King or not.
"Do not go," he said, "until you have joined me in drinking the health of his Majesty King George."
Jack had no notion whatever of drinking the King's health, but he was at his wits' end how to avoid it. Just then, though, the Captain turned to speak to his orderly, and Jack took the opportunity of gulping down his wine with more haste than elegance. Captain Moore, seeing it, was surprised and disgusted at the boy's apparent greediness for wine, but raising his glass, said, "To the King."
"Excuse me, sir," answered Jack, coolly, "but my father never allows me to drink but one glass of wine, and that I have already had."
"Then I will drink the toast alone," said Captain Moore, with a stern look at the boy. "Here is to his Majesty King George. Health and long life to him! God save the King!"
As Captain Moore uttered this sentiment Jack rose and promptly put on his hat. The Captain was quite sure that the boy's action, like his gulping down the wine, meant a distaste for the King, and not a want of breeding. But he thought it best not to notice the incident, and said, civilly, to his young guest:
"Present my compliments to your honored father, and tell him that his Majesty's officers have the kindest feelings toward these misguided people; and while if attacked we will certainly defend ourselves, we have strict orders to avoid a conflict if possible, and not to fire until fired upon."
"I will remember your message, sir," was Jack's answer; and the Captain, having no further excuse for detaining his young guest, allowed him to depart.
He was soon alongside of the Priscilla, and there, standing at the gangway, was the sloop's master, Jerry O'Brien. Jerry, by an accident of fate, had inherited an Irish name, but he was as arrant a Yankee as ever stepped. He was a handsome fellow withal, and in his natty blue suit much more resembled the Captain of an armed cruiser than the master of a smart merchant vessel. The Priscilla, too, was a wonderful contrast to the slovenly merchantmen around her. She was as clean as hands could make her, and her beautiful lines were brought out by the shining coat of black paint upon her hull. Her men were smart and seamanlike. Jerry O'Brien was the most exacting ship-master on that coast, but he never had any trouble in shipping men, for, while making them do their work with the quickness and steadiness of man-o'-war's men, he used neither blows nor curses. A natural leader of men, he made himself respected first, and after that it is always easy to command obedience.
As soon as Jack Leverett came over the side Jerry took him to the cabin. Jack produced a letter, and by the heat from a ship's lantern some writing in lemon juice was deciphered. It contained a full account of the affairs at Lexington and Concord, of which only vague rumors had reached Machias. At every sentence descriptive of American valor Jerry would give a half-suppressed whoop, and at the end he could not forbear letting out a huzza that made the little cabin ring.
"Suppose," said Jack, who had hard work to keep from hurrahing wildly, "instead of making a noise, we should invent a scheme to capture the Margaretta. If the farmers around Boston could, with hay-forks and blunderbusses, beat off the British regulars, the sailors and fishermen about here ought to be able to get alongside the Margaretta and take her."
Jerry's mouth was large, and it came open like a rat-trap at this bold proposition. After a pause he spoke. "Boy," said he, "the enterprise shall be tried; and if we succeed, you shall be prize-master of the Margaretta."
Jack's heart leaped at these words. He was an admirable sailor, like most of the hardy youngsters on the coast, and had more than once taken the Priscilla on short trips. But his mother and the Squire meant him to be something else than a merchant Captain, and kept him under a tutor when he would much rather have been sailing blue water. For hours Jack and Jerry sat in the cabin talking over their scheme. Jerry knew that the people of Machias were heart and soul with the cause of freedom, and could be depended upon in any desperate adventure. The Margaretta carried four brass guns and a number of swivels; but, as Jerry shrewdly said, if once the Priscilla could grapple with her, it would be a battle of men and musketry, not of guns. At nightfall Jack and Jerry went ashore. A great vivid moon hung in the sky, and they could see the Margaretta almost as well as in daylight. She was a handsome vessel, schooner rigged, and in a state of preparation that showed Captain Moore did not mean to be caught napping. All her boats were hoisted in, her anchors had springs on them, and her sails were merely clewed up, instead of being furled.
"There you are, my beauty," said Jerry. "It's a shame, so it is, that King George's ensign should fly from your peak. You deserve an American flag, and we'll try and give it you."
All that night they spent going from house to house of the men who had the patriotism to enlist with them, and by daylight they had the promise of twenty-five resolute men who, at a signal of three cheers given from the Priscilla, would at once board her and put themselves under Jerry O'Brien's command.
All this commotion on shore had not escaped Captain Moore's lookouts during the night, and although the Captain would much have preferred staying and fighting it out, his orders compelled him to cut and run if signs of an outbreak were visible. The British government then earnestly wished to conciliate the colonists, and by no means to come to blows.
The next morning was Sunday, and as beautifully clear and bright as the day before. In order to avoid the appearance of fear, Captain Moore determined, with his officers, to go to church as usual. As the Captain's gig landed the officers, Jerry O'Brien and Jack Leverett, with the six men who composed the Priscilla's crew, were all on deck, keeping a sharp eye on the Margaretta and her boat.
"What say you, men," suddenly asked Jerry, "to bagging those officers in church?"
"We say yes," answered every man at once. In a few minutes, with Jerry and Jack in the lead, and all well armed, they took the road toward the church. As they neared it they heard the faint sweet echo of a hymn that floated out on the spring air—the only sound that broke the heavenly stillness.
Jerry silently posted his men at the entrance, and then opening the door softly, raised his horse-pistol and levelled it straight at Captain Moore, who sat in the last pew.
The British Captain happened to turn his head at that instant. The congregation was too absorbed in the singing to notice what was going on. Jerry nodded at the Captain, as much as to say, "You are my prisoner." The Captain coolly shook his head, as if to answer, "Not quite, my fine fellow," and the next moment he made a sudden dash for the open window, followed by all of his officers, and before Jerry could realize that the birds had flown, they had run half-way to the shore. In vain Jerry and Jack and their followers pursued. The officers had too long a lead, and by the time the Americans reached the shore the Captain's gig was being pulled rapidly to the ship. As soon as the boat reached it the anchors were picked up, every sail that would draw was shaken out, and the cruiser made for the offing. As soon as she was well under way she sent a shot of defiance screaming over the town, and was answered by three thundering American cheers from the Priscilla. As if by magic the sloop's deck was alive with armed men, and with a quickness equal to the cruiser's, her mainsail was up, and she was winging her way in pursuit of her enemy.
Well had the Priscilla been called the fastest sloop in all that region. The wind was dead ahead, and both vessels had to get out of the river on "a long leg and a short one." The Margaretta was handled in a seamanlike manner, but on every tack the Priscilla gained, and showed that she was a better sailer both on and off the wind. In an hour they were within hailing distance, and the men on the Margaretta were called to quarters by the tap of the drum. Her guns were run out, their tompions withdrawn, and the cruiser showed herself to be an ugly customer to tackle. But this did not intimidate the Americans, who were closing on her fast.
A hail came from the Margaretta, "What are you following us for?"
"To learn how to tack ship!" responded Jerry O'Brien, who had taken the wheel himself. This reply caused a roar of laughter from the Americans, as the Priscilla could come about in half the time of the Margaretta.
"Keep off or I'll fire!" was the next hail.
"Fire away, gentlemen," bawled Jerry, "and light your matches with your orders not to fire first!"
At this the gallant British tars groaned loudly, and Captain Moore, drawing his sword and shaking it at the rapidly advancing sloop, shouted:
"Orders or no orders, I will fire one round if I lose my commission for it. Blow your matches, boys!"
The guns were already manned, and at the word there was a flash of light, a puff of smoke, and a round shot came hissing and shrieking across the water and struck the Priscilla's mainmast fairly in the middle, splintering it. The sloop staggered under the blow, and in a minute or two the mast went by the board with a crash.
A great cheer broke from the Margaretta's men at that.
"Never mind," cried Jerry. "This is not the first mast that was ever carried away, and we have spare spars and carpenters too. Wait for us in Holmes Bay, and we will fight it out yard-arm to yard-arm before sundown."
The Margaretta, with her men cheering and jeering, sailed away toward the open sea. The Priscilla being the best-found sloop in New England, in a little while the stump of the mast was cleared away, a lighter spar, but still good enough, was fitted, and she made sail on it.
As she neared the ocean the wind freshened every moment, and although the sun shone brilliantly, a heavy sea was kicked up. Soon they sighted the Margaretta, with her topsail backed, and gallantly waiting for her enemy.
In all this time Jack Leverett showed a steadiness and coolness beyond his years. Once Jerry O'Brien said to him,
"Youngster, if you flinch, depend upon it, your father shall know it."
"All right," answered Jack; "and if I don't flinch I want my mother to know it."
The two vessels now neared each other on opposite tacks. Captain Moore manœuvred to get into a raking position before delivering his fire, but the Priscilla, by skilful yawing and by the roughness of the sea, proved to be as difficult to hit as if she had been a cork bobbing up and down. In vain they played their two starboard guns and all their swivels on her; their shot rarely struck, and when it struck, did small damage.
Not so with the Americans. Without a single cannon, they poured forth a musketry fire at close quarters that did fearful work and made hot the Margaretta's decks. The brave British sailors stood manfully to their guns, but the Americans were gradually edging up, and their fire grew more deadly every moment. The Margaretta tried to sheer off, but the Priscilla, closing up, got her jibboom entangled in her adversary's main rigging, and a dozen Americans sprang forward to make the two ships fast.
As the vessels came grinding together Jerry O'Brien, leaping on the taffrail, shouted, "I will be the first man to board—and follow me!"
But Jerry was mistaken. He was suddenly seized by the coat tails, jerked backwards, and fell sprawling upon the deck, and the next instant Jack Leverett sprang over him, and was first upon the Margaretta's deck.
"Drat the boy!" was Jerry's involuntary exclamation as he scrambled to his feet.
The Americans poured over the side, and met with a warm reception. Captain Moore, surrounded by his officers, retreated to the fo'c's'le, fighting every step of the way. At last Jerry O'Brien came face to face with him. The Captain defended himself with his sword, but it was knocked out of his hand by Jerry with a pistol butt. They clinched and fell to the deck fighting. The struggle was sharp but short, and in fifteen minutes from the time the Americans had lashed the ships together the Captain was overpowered, nearly every officer had been cut down, and the cruiser was in the hands of the Americans. There had been much cheering on the Priscilla that day, but when the British ensign was hauled down, and Jerry, in default of a national flag, hoisted his own jacket at the mast-head, there were three cheers given that could almost be heard at Machias.
The prisoners were quickly transferred to the Priscilla, and as Jerry O'Brien required all of his best men on board, he could only spare a few landsmen for a prize crew on the Margaretta.
"But I will give her a prize master who, although not very old, can sail a schooner or any other craft—John Leverett, there," said Jerry. "And he will take her in, you may be sure."
Oh, how Jack's heart beat with delight at these words!
Soon they were heading up the river, and when, under a fair wind, they made a quick run to Machias, the May moon made the heavens glorious. Jack Leverett thought the happiest moment of his life had come when they cast anchor amid the thunder of cheers from the people assembled along the shores.
But there was a happier moment yet in store for him. A week afterward Jack and Jerry O'Brien entered Squire Leverett's study, where sat the Squire and Madam Leverett. The mother uttered a cry of joy and clasped her boy in her arms. Then Jerry O'Brien, taking him by the hand, led him to the Squire.
"Sir," he said, "here is your brave boy. You have reason to be proud of him. I have been promised two things when the navy of the Colonies is formed. One is a Captain's commission for myself, and the other is a midshipman's commission for this lad. He is born for the sea, and to make a landsman of him would be like putting a mackerel in a barnyard to scratch for his living."
The Squire, too moved to speak, silently took one of Jack's hands in both of his, and Madam Leverett, falling on her boy's neck, cried, "How happy am I to have such a boy to give to my country!"