After this the discussion became general. It was felt that in the absence of definite information from the “Spencer” about Captain Raggett’s terms there was no use in formulating plans to aid the captives. A false move might have the effect of further complicating the situation. It was evident that no help could be obtained from the distressed people of Provincetown. That unfortunate town had been the greatest sufferer from the depredations of the British during the Revolutionary struggle, when the majority of the inhabitants, finding the conditions intolerable, fled from the place and sought refuge further inland. At the conclusion of hostilities they returned to their ruined homes and valiantly set to work to regain their former prosperity. In this they succeeded. The straggling town near the tip-end of the Cape was once more a hive of industry, notable for its hardy and venturesome seamen, when the proclamation of the embargo by President Jefferson again set back the hands of the clock. From that time until the peace of 1815, it was the old story of ruined trade and constant suffering, their very lives dependent on the caprice of the haughty foe whose splendidly equipped warships lay within a few hundred yards of the town, and whose guns were ever ready to reduce the settlement to ruins on the slightest pretext. Still, the people hated to leave and they bravely bore their misfortunes, hoping and praying for the day when the God of battles should once again decide the contest in favor of their beloved country.
All this was well known to the gathering in the town house. In the midst of their own troubles, the people of Eastham deeply sympathized with their less fortunate compatriots of Provincetown.
As the discussion continued, various schemes for getting into communication with the prisoners were proposed and rejected. Some were for boldly going to the “Spencer” and having the matter out with Raggett. The wiser heads opposed this. What was the use of running the risk of being added to the list of prisoners? There was nothing to prevent Raggett from holding the envoys and demanding ransom for their release.
“I think that’s a sensible view to take of it, Mr. Chairman,” said Peter Walker. “For my part, I’m very sure that Hoppy Mayo’s brain is hard at work trying to devise means to outwit the British. You surely don’t imagine that Hoppy’s nimble wit has failed him all of a sudden? Any man who succeeded in disposing of a spavined mare as a sound horse, and that to a minister of the Gospel, sleeps with one eye open when he’s in the hands of the enemy!”
The Rev. Philander Shaw, minister of the Congregational church, had, a few minutes previously, joined the meeting, and as he was the victim of Hoppy’s horse-trade, there was loud laughter at Peter’s remark. The genial minister joined in the merriment and when it subsided, remarked goodhumoredly:
“I’m afraid, Mr. Chairman, Master Walker thinks as little of my judgment of horseflesh as he does of my preaching.”
This was a gentle thrust at Peter’s irregular attendance at church. Indeed, it was general knowledge that Master Walker had written some verses sarcastically insinuating that the ministers of the period were in no way the equals of the great men whose cure of souls had been the glory of ancient Eastham.
There was renewed laughter, this time at the expense of the redoubtable Peter.
“Master Walker will have his joke, reverend sir,” said Squire Harding Knowles with mock severity, “but we sadly want someone to enliven us at present.”
“No offence, Squire Knowles,” replied the minister heartily; “no offence at all. With all his joking, it seems to me that Master Walker has given us a hint of great value in our present dilemma. Until we devise some means of communicating with our imprisoned neighbors, I think we may assume that they are not idle on their own behalf. Perhaps we had better wait yet awhile for tidings.”