Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the Mast

by James Fenimore Cooper

When we succeeded in persuading the lady to quit her husband's body, we shaped our course for the light-house. Glad were we three tars to see the mast-heads of the shipping in the river, as we came near the banks of the Niagara. The house at the light was empty; but, on my hailing, a woman's voice answered from the cellar. It was an old woman who had taken shelter from shot down in the hold, the rest of the family having slipped and run. We now got some milk for the lady, who continued in tears most of the time. Sometimes she would knock off crying for a bit, when she seemed to have some distrust of us; but, on the whole, we made very good weather in company. After staying about half an hour at the light-house, we left it for the town, my advice to the lady being to put herself under the protection of some of our officers. I told her if the news of what had happened reached the commodore, she might depend on her husband's being buried with the honours of war, and said such other things to comfort her as came to the mind of a man who had been sailing so near the wind.

I forgot to relate one part of the adventure. Before we had got fairly clear of the woods, we fell in with four of Forsyth's men, notoriously the wickedest corps in the army. These fellows began to crack their jokes at the expense of the two females, and we came near having a brush with them. When we spoke of our pistols, and of our determination to use them, before we would let our convoy come to harm, these chaps laughed at our pop-guns, and told us they had such things as 'rifles.' This was true enough, and had we come to broadsides, I make no doubt they would have knocked us over like so many snipes. I began to reason with them, on the impropriety of offending respectable females; and one of the fellows, who was a kind of corporal, or something of that sort, shook my hand, said I was right, and offered to be friends. So we spliced the main-brace, and parted. Glad enough was the lady to be rid of them so easily. In these squalls she would bring up in her tears, and then when all went smooth again, she would break out afresh.

After quitting the light, we made the best of our way for the town. Just as we reached it, we fell in with a party of soldier-officers, and we turned the lady and her woman over to their care. These gentlemen said a good word in our favour, and here we parted company with our convoy, never hearing, or seeing, anything of either afterwards.

By this time it was near dark, and Bill Southard and I began to look out for the Scourge. She was anchored in the river, with the rest of the fleet, and we went down upon a wharf to make a signal for a boat. On the way we saw a woman crying before a watch-maker's shop, and a party of Forsyth's close by. On enquiry, we learned these fellows had threatened to rob her shop. We had been such defenders of the sex, that we could not think of deserting this woman, and we swore we would stand by her, too. We should have had a skirmish here, I do believe, had not one or two rifle officers hove in sight, when the whole party made sail from us. We turned the woman over to these gentlemen, who said, "ay, there are some of our vagabonds, again." One of them said it would be better to call in their parties, and before we reached the water we heard the bugle sounding the recall.

They had given us up on board the schooner. A report of some Indians being out had reached her, and we three were set down as scalped. Thank God, I've got all the hair on my head yet, and battered as my old hulk has got to be, and shattered as are my timbers, it is as black as a raven's wing at this moment. This, my old shipmate, who is logging this yarn, says he thinks is a proof my mother was a French Canadian, though such is not the fact, as it has been told to me.

Those riflemen were regular scamps. Just before we went down to the wharf, we saw one walking sentinel before the door of a sort of barracks. On drawing near and asking what was going on inside, we were told we had nothing to do with their fun ashore, that we might look in at a window, however, but should not go in. We took him at his word; a merry scene it was inside. The English officers' dunnage had been broken into, and there was a party of the corps strutting about in uniform coats and feathers. We thought it best to give these dare-devils a berth, and so we left them. One was never safe with them on the field of battle, friend or enemy.

We met a large party of marines on the wharf, marching up under Major Smith. They were going to protect the people of the town from further mischief. Mr. Osgood was glad enough to see us, and we got plenty of praise for what we had done with the women. As for the canteens, we had to empty them, after treating the crew of the boat that was sent to take us off. I did not enter the town after that night.

We lay some time in the Niagara, the commodore going to the harbour to get the Pike ready. Captain Crane took the rest of us off Kingston, where we were joined by the commodore, and made sail again for the Niagara. Here Colonel Scott embarked with a body of troops, and we went to Burlington Bay to carry the heights. They were found to be too strong; and the men, after landing, returned to the vessels. We then went to York, again, and took possession of the place a second time. Here we destroyed several boats, and stores, set fire to the barracks, and did the enemy a good deal of damage otherwise; after which we left the place. Two or three days later we crossed the lake and landed the soldiers, again, at Fort Niagara.

Early in August, while we were still in the river, Sir James Yeo hove in sight with two ships, two brigs, and two schooners. We had thirteen sail in all, such as they were, and immediately got under way, and manoeuvred for the weather-gauge. All the enemy's vessels had regular quarters, and the ships were stout craft. Our squadron sailed very unequally, some being pretty fast, and others as dull as droggers. Nor were we more than half fitted out. On board the Scourge the only square-sail we had, was made out of an English marquée we had laid our hands on at York, the first time we were there. I ought to say, too, that we got two small brass guns at York, four-pounders, I believe, which Mr. Osgood clapped into our two spare ports forward. This gave us ten guns in all, sixes and fours. I remember that Jack Mallet laughed at us heartily for the fuss we made with our pop-guns, as he called them, while we were working upon the English batteries, saying we might just as well have spared our powder, as for any good we did. He belonged to the Julia, which had a long thirty-two, forward, which they called the "Old Sow," and one smart eighteen aft. She had two sixes in her waist, also; but they disdained to use them.

While we were up at the harbour, the last time, Mr. Mix who had married a sister of Mr. Osgood, took a party of us in a boat, and we went up Black River, shooting. The two gentlemen landed, and as we were coming down the river, we saw something swimming, which proved to be a bear. We had no arms, but we pulled over the beast, and had a regular squaw-fight with him. We were an hour at work with this animal, the fellow coming very near mastering us. I struck at his nose with an iron tiller fifty times, but he warded the blow like a boxer. He broke our boat-hook, and once or twice, he came near boarding us. At length a wood-boat gave us an axe, and with this we killed him. Mr. Osgood had this bear skinned, and said he should send the skin to his family, If he did, it must have been one of the last memorials it ever got from him.