At the moment, however, it seemed as if our good fortune had deserted us. The wind was drawing down the river with a force that shut off all hope of sending the pungy against it, and the rain came in such torrents that the deck was awash in short order.
"It's a case of stayin' where we are, or takin' the chances of runnin' down river when you couldn't see a nigger under your nose," Darius said as he and I re-entered the cabin wet to the skin, although we had not been exposed to the fury of the tempest above two minutes. "I'm willin' to run a good many risks; but puttin' this pungy under sail, with half a dozen frigates somewhere on the course, is a little too steep for me."
Captain Hanaford was exceeding anxious to be under way; but he understood that nothing could be done while the storm raged with such fury, and we sat in the darkness, discussing what might be done when the morning came.
It was finally decided that we would take all the risk of going down stream as soon as the tempest abated, for there were many creeks along the shore where we might run under cover to avoid the fleet, or, if the worst came, we could go on shore, abandoning the pungy.
In order that Captain Hanaford might be willing to take the chances of losing his vessel, I showed him the guarantee we had received from Commodore Barney, and promised that when we got the money from the government he should share equally with us.
"I'm ready to do whatsoever is agreed upon without askin' you lads to pay for my pungy in case I lose her," he said stoutly. "There ain't any certainty I'd been able to keep her if you hadn't come aboard, for if the Britishers will burn nigh on to a whole city, they won't stop at a few oyster-boats, if there's any fun to be had in settin' 'em afire. I don't jest hanker, though, to fool around with a lot of frigates, an' that's a fact."
"We won't fool with 'em," Darius said decidedly. "It stands to reason they must be below Fort Washington, else we'd heard the firin' when they tried to come past. Now 'twixt here an' there we should find a creek where a pungy like this could be hidden."
"I know of a place about eight miles from here," the captain said thoughtfully, and Bill Jepson cried cheerfully:
"Then that settles the whole business. We'll get under way when this 'ere squall is over, and before daylight be where we can keep out of sight till the fleet comes up. Once they're this side of us we shall be in clear water."
But Bill was not calculating on the force of the "squall." I have seen a good many summer storms; but never one to equal that on the night of August twenty-fifth, in the year of grace 1814.