“No; what was it? I didn’t know he ever was captain.”
“Well, he never was, only in this way. Their captain was killed in action with an armed merchantman; Ben, being lieutenant, took charge, and acted as captain the rest of the cruise. You see, they were cruising off the coast, to try and cut off some of the English supply vessels, that were bringing provisions and ammunition to their armies, for our folks were mighty short of powder, and everything else, for the matter of that. They were lying by in a thick fog—not a breath of wind—couldn’t see your hand before you; and when the fog lifted at sunrise, they were right under the guns of a fifty-gun ship, that was off there looking out for the expected transports. No squeak for them. What does Ben do but strip off his clothes, get into his berth, and make the doctor bind his right leg and arm all up with splinters and bandages, as though they were broken, then bleed him, and put the blood over the wound, as though it had been done by a shot! John Strout was second mate; so he became first mate, or first lieutenant, when Ben took charge; you know he and Ben are like knife and fork—always together. The man-of-war put a prize captain and crew on board, and put Ben’s crew in irons, and ordered her into New York. They took him out of his berth, and put him between decks with his men, which was just what he wanted, though he groaned and took on terribly when they were moving him, it hurt him so; and the doctor said ’twas real barbarity to move a patient in his condition.
“The English in time of war were always short of seamen,—more so now than ever,—as they were fighting with us and France both; they had but few men to spare for a prize crew; they took out part of Ben’s crew, and put the rest in irons; made a captain of an old quartermaster, with two midshipmen for lieutenants; gave them about a dozen seamen, and three or four petty officers, thinking, as ’twas so short a run into port, there was no great risk of their meeting any Yankee cruiser. Ben knew very well there was no time to lose, and laid his plans with the doctor for re-taking the vessel that very night. They apprehended but little trouble from the seamen, who were most of them pressed men; but there were three marines to be got rid of,—one on the forecastle, and one at each gangway, and armed to the teeth. The doctor secured the key of the arm-chest as soon after twelve o’clock as the watch, who came below, were well asleep. Ben took off the splints and bandages, and crawling out of his hammock, wrenched the handcuffs from the wrists of eight of his men.”
“Who did he let loose?” said Uncle Isaac; “anybody I know?”
“Yes; John Strout, and black Cæsar, who was the strongest man in the vessel, except Ben.”
“I knew him; he was a slave to Seth Valentine, and he gave him his liberty when the war broke out.”
“And Calvin Merrithew, who was almost as stout; and Ed Griffin, brother to Joe, who was killed afterwards, with Jack Manley, in the Lee privateer. The rest of ’em didn’t belong round here.”
“I heard something about it at the time, but never heard the particulars. But were not these sailors armed?”
“No; they don’t allow sailors arms when about their duty; the marines do all the guard duty; the sailors are only armed in time of action. The doctor had a dog, who got the end of his tail jammed off a day or two before, under the truck of a gun carriage. The men, for deviltry, would touch it, to make him sing out; he got so at last, that if anybody pointed at it he would howl. They resolved to make the howl of the dog, which was too common to attract attention, a signal for action. They dressed themselves in the hats and coats of the watch who had turned in, that they might be taken in the dark for men-o’-war’s-men. Cæsar went up the main hatch, passed the sentry on the forecastle, and went into the head. As ’twas nothing uncommon for men to come up in the night, the marine took no notice of ’em. Merrithew, Ed Griffin, and another, lay at the steps of the main hatch, watching the marine there; Ben, John Strout, and the others at the after hatch. The doctor, who went and came without question, pinched the dog’s tail, who instantly began to howl. Cæsar felled the marine with a blow of his fist, and flung him overboard; Merrithew, rushing upon the marine at the hatchway, whose attention was occupied with the noise on the forecastle, flung him head foremost into the hold, while the others put on the hatches and barred them down. In the mean time Ben, rushing upon the sentry in the gangway, flung him against the lieutenant, who was pacing the deck, with such force as to fell him senseless on the planks, while the doctor locked the cabin doors, and the rest barred down the after hatches, then, seizing the boarding-pikes that were lashed to the main boom, joined their comrades. The seamen made little or no resistance. A terrible noise and swearing were now heard aft; the prize captain, having got up on the cabin table, with his head out of the skylight, was screaming to know why the doors were fastened, and what was the matter.
“‘Come out here and see, my little man,’ said Ben, reaching down, and taking him by both ears, he pulled him through the skylight, and set him astride a gun.