“Why, I guess I sold all my cargo, and, what’s more, I’ve sold my masts.”
“Sold your masts! whom did you sell them to?”
“To an almighty pretty French privateer lying in St. Pierre’s, which had lost her spars when she was chased by one of your brass-bottomed sarpents; and I’ve a notion they paid pretty handsomely too.”
“But how do you mean to get home again?”
“I calculate to get into the stream, and then I’ll do very well. If I meet a nor-wester, why then I’ll make a signal of distress, and some one will tow me in, I guess.”
“Well,” replied O’Brien, “but step down into the cabin, and take something, captain.”
“With particular pleasure,” replied this strange mortal; and down they went.
In about half-an-hour, they returned on deck, and the boat took the American on board. Soon afterwards, O’Brien desired Osbaldistone and myself to step down into the cabin. The chart of the harbour of St. Pierre’s lay on the table, and O’Brien said, “I have had a long conversation with the American, and he states that the privateer is at anchor in this spot” (pointing to a pencil-mark on the chart). “If so, she is well out; and I see no difficulty in capturing her. You see that she lies in four fathoms water, and so close under the outer battery, that the guns could not be pointed down upon the boats. I have also inquired if they keep a good look-out, and the American says that they feel so secure, that they keep no look-out at all; that the captain and officers belonging to her are on shore all night, drinking, smoking, and boasting of what they will do. Now the question is, whether this report be correct. The American has been well-treated by us, and I see no reason to doubt him; indeed he gave the information voluntarily, as if he wished to serve us.”
I allowed Osbaldistone to speak first; he coincided with O’Brien, I did not: the very circumstance of her requiring new masts made me doubt the truth of his assertion, as to where she lay; and if one part of his story were false, why not the whole? O’Brien appeared struck with my argument, and it was agreed that if the boats did go away, it should be for a reconnaissance, and that the attempt should only be made, provided it was found that the privateer lay in the same spot pointed out by the American master. It was, however, decided that the reconnaissance should take place that very night, as allowing the privateer to be anchored on the spot supposed, there was every probability that she would not remain there, but haul further in, to take in her new masts. The news that an expedition was at hand was soon circulated through the ship, and all the men had taken their cutlasses from the capstan to get them ready for action. The fighting boats’ crews, without orders, were busy with their boats, some cutting up old blankets to muffle the oars, others making new grummets. The ship’s company were as busy as bees, bustling and buzzing about the decks, and reminding you of the agitation which takes place in a hive previous to a swarm. At last Osbaldistone came on deck, and ordered the boats’ crews to be piped away, and prepare for service. I was to have the command of the expedition in the launch—I had charge of the first cutter—O’Farrel of the second, and Swinburne had the charge of the jolly-boat. At dusk, the head of the brig was again turned towards St. Pierre’s, and we ran slowly in. At ten we hove-to, and about eleven the boats were ordered to haul up, O’Brien repeating his orders to Mr Osbaldistone, not to make the attempt if the privateer were found to be anchored close to the town. The men were all mustered on the quarter-deck, to ascertain if they had the distinguishing mark on their jackets, that is, square patches of canvas sewed on the left arm, so that we might recognise friend from foe—a very necessary precaution in a night expedition; and then they were manned, and ordered to shove off. The oars were dropped in the water, throwing out a phosphorescent light, so common in that climate, and away we went. After an hour’s pulling, Osbaldistone lay on his oars in the launch, and we closed with him.
“We are now at the mouth of the harbour,” said he, “and the most perfect silence must be observed.”