Then the five sailors stood near the main gangway with arms folded, heads erect, and resigned like brave men to their fate. The frigate came bearing down upon them like a great mountain, and soon lay alongside. The captain and a score of marines all armed with muskets, came aboard.
"So ho!" cried the captain, "you have my live runaways snug enough. Seize them and carry them aboard, lieutenant."
A young officer with ten men now seized the five deserters, handcuffed them and led them to their ship which lay alongside. As they went over the rail, the brutal captain said something about swinging at the yard arm. Turning to Parson, he said:
"Captain, muster your crew and have them pass before me."
Much as the captain disliked to do so, he was in the power of the brutal Englishman and forced to do his bidding. As the sailors passed slowly before him, the Briton eyed each carefully. Suddenly he pointed to a stout young sailor named Tom, and cried:
"Stop sir, you are an Englishman!"
"I am not, capen, ye's mistaken, I was born at Plymouth, Massachusetts."
"Don't dispute my word, sir. I know you, seize him!"
Though three of Tom's messmates offered to swear that he was a native of Massachusetts, he was seized, ironed and hurried away. Two more were selected, despite the protests of Captain Parson, who was raging like a madman, and hurried aboard the frigate. The fourth man halted in the procession was Job, the colored cook.
"Stop, sir, I want you!" said the English officer.