Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

by John Sherburne Sleeper

The moon had risen, and lighted up the bay, so that objects could be distinctly seen at a considerable distance. And soon after midnight, twelve boats, carrying nearly four hundred men, and armed with carronades, swivels, and blunderbusses, as well as muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, left the squadron and pulled directly for the privateer. The crisis was at hand, and although the brave commander of the privateer knew that his vessel must eventually fall into the hands of his unscrupulous enemy, he determined to defend her to the last.

A fierce and desperate engagement ensued. As soon as the boats came within range, they were greeted with the contents of "long Tom;" and the nine pounders also faithfully performed their work. The guns were served with almost incredible skill and activity, and aimed with the nicest precision. The fire was returned by the boats, although it was evident that some of them suffered severely from the effects of the first broadside. Others, however, dashed alongside, with the expectation of carrying the privateer by boarding; but here, again, they were disappointed. Pistols and muskets flashed from every porthole, and boarding-pikes and cutlasses, wielded by strong hands, presented a CHEVAUX-DE-FRISE which the enemy could not overleap. The carnage was terrible; the contest lasted over half an hour, and resulted in the total defeat of the British, who, with bull-dog ferocity and obstinacy, although foiled in their desperate effort to take the privateer, were unwilling to abandon the enterprise, and were shot and hewn down by scores. Only three of the officers escaped; several of the boats were destroyed, and two of them, after the action, were found alongside the brig, literally filled with the dead and dying!

The boats which survived the conflict, crushed and discomfited, pulled slowly back to their ships, bearing with them many of the wounded. Of the four hundred who left the ships an hour and a half before, full of health, high in spirits, and eager for the battle, hardly one hundred and fifty returned unharmed.

The attack on the boats by Captain Reid and his brave men was so sudden and overwhelming, that the enemy, notwithstanding the convulsive efforts of a few, seemed incapable of making any effective resistance. Instead of being the attacking party, their efforts were mainly confined to ineffectual attempts to defend themselves. Thus, on the part of the Americans, the loss in the two engagements was only two killed and seven wounded. One of those who fell was Mr. Williams, of New York, the second lieutenant. The first and third lieutenants were among the wounded. Thus, early in the action Captain Reid was deprived of the services of his most efficient officers, but he was equal to the emergency, and his cool and intrepid conduct secured the victory.

On the following morning, soon after daybreak, the Carnation gun-brig was hauled in within point blank gun-shot, and opened a fire on the General Armstrong; but the gallant commander of the privateer, being determined to submit to no other than a superior force, returned the fire with his long twenty-four pounder so effectually, boring the brig through and through at every shot, that she was soon glad to haul off to avoid being sunk at her anchors. Preparations were now making to bring in the frigate; and aware that to prolong the contest would be worse than useless, Captain Reid ordered the brig's masts to be cut away, a hole blown through her bottom, and with all his men, trunks, chests, and baggage, took to his boats and safely reached the shore. They had not been landed fifteen minutes when the dismasted sinking vessel was boarded by the British boats without resistance, and immediately set on fire. Such was the fate of the General Armstrong privateer!

It is perhaps not strange that, before my shipmates and myself had been a week at the boarding house, around whose attractive sign clustered such patriotic associations, Downes, the boatswain of the Casket, and Jones both became acclimated to the noxious atmosphere redolent of alcohol and other disgusting compounds, succumbed to the temptations by which they were surrounded, and drank as much grog, were as noisy and unruly, and as ready for a quarrel as any dissolute old Irishman in the whole circle of Jim Hubbards' household. Indeed the boatswain, a young fellow possessed of many excellent qualities, and who had made a resolution to reform some bad habits in which he had indulged, got drunk before he had been three days an inmate of the establishment, quarrelled with an English sailor, fought with him, was severely whipped and furnished with a couple of magnificent black eyes. So true is the sentiment, beautifully expressed in the language of the poet,

"Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
But seen too oft, familiar with the face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace."

The generality of Jim Hubbard's boarders were what may be technically termed "a hard set." Among them were many foreigners, who seemed to have been the off-scourings of their native countries, and whose manners and morals had not been improved by the peculiar discipline and lessons in ethics they had become familiar with on board English men-of-war or Patriot privateers. In truth they were a band of roistering blades, and by day and by night, when not dead drunk, were restless, noisy, vociferous, and terribly profane. Flush with their money, and acting from generous impulses, they would urge a stranger to drink with them in good fellowship, and if the invitation was declined, were equally ready to knock him down or kick him into the street, as unworthy the society of good fellows.

Whole crews came to the house, from long voyages, with pockets overflowing with cash. They were received with smiles of welcome by Hubbard, and the treasures of his bar were placed before them. At the proper time they were told by their obliging landlord that it was a praiseworthy custom among new comers to "treat all hands." Then commenced a course of unrestrained dissipation, which was not interrupted so long as their money held out. They became uproarious, and took a strange pleasure in enacting scenes, which should never be witnessed out of Bedlam. But as their money diminished their landlord gave them the cold shoulder; their love of frolic and fighting was sensibly lessened, and their spirits at last fell to zero on being told by their sympathizing host, who kept a careful watch over their finances, and kindly aided them in spending their money by making fictitious charges, and exacting double prices for what they actually had, that THEIR CASH WAS ALL GONE; that it was not his custom to give credit, and the sooner they found a ship, and cleared out, the better.

Such, I am sorry to say, was the character of most of the sailor landlords in "days lang syne." And notwithstanding the efforts which have since been made to elevate the condition of the sailor, and provide him with a comfortable house on shore, I greatly fear the race is not extinct; and that Jack, even in these days, often becomes the prey of one of these crafty, plausible, smiling, unprincipled scoundrels, who hands him a bottle of rum with one hand and picks his pocket with the other; who, under the guise of friendship, bears towards the sailor the same kind of affection he is prepared to expect from the man-eating shark which is seen prowling round a ship. If he falls into the clutches of either, he is sure to be taken in and done for.