Commodore Barney's Young Spies / A Boy's Story of the Burning of the City of Washington

by James Otis

I obeyed the command, and in an instant the canoe glided into the obscurity of the shadows cast by the overhanging trees.

With the disappearance of Darius there came upon me the full sense of my responsibility, for I was the one to whom the others would look in event of trouble, and I knew full well how poorly fitted I was by experience to be in command of the pungy.

The knowledge of my own short-comings at least served one good turn, since it made me more than usually cautious, and without delay I set about preparations for obeying the command given by Darius.

All my companions were on deck, and calling them aft to the cuddy companion-way, I said in a whisper:

"You heard the words of Darius. Now I propose the work shall be done in this fashion: All hands will remain on duty, not in a group, but stationed equal distances apart at the rail, each one to watch and listen to the best of his ability. No fellow shall speak with his neighbor, nor can he move about lest the sound of footsteps on the deck give an alarm."

Then I took up my station near the stern, and in the gloom I could see the forms of my companions while they ranged themselves as I had suggested, neither of them making more noise than so many mice.

From that moment not a sound could be heard from the deck of the Avenger. That which Darius said had aroused us all to the danger, and even though we had only a crew of lads, I felt confident no blunder would be charged against us.

It was dreary work waiting there in the darkness, listening intently for the lightest unusual noise, and believing that an enemy was, or soon would be, close at hand. The gurgling of the water in an eddy; the leap of a fish, or a bit of drift-wood striking against the side of the pungy, sounded in our ears loud as thunder, and we heard the ordinary night rustlings of the forest as if it was something strange to our ears.

Then came that which caused us to bend far out over the rail, trying to pierce the gloom with our eyes, for the measured stroke of oars could be heard, and it was a positive relief to me, even though it betokened the coming of strangers.

I felt certain an enemy's boat was approaching, because had any one living on the river been coming up at that time of night, paddles would have been used instead of oars. I knew of no one nearabout Benedict who would have rowed a boat against the current when she could have been handled so much more readily the other way.