One summer day in this troublous year, a large whaleboat emerged from Boston harbor and bore away for Eastham, Cape Cod. The crew consisted of two men, Winslow L. Knowles and Matthew H. Mayo. They were both in the prime of life, typical Cape Codders, and had been masters of fine vessels before the war destroyed the trade. Their whaleboat was a tiny craft in comparison with the stately merchantmen in which they had sailed the seven seas, and the skippers keenly felt their fallen fortunes. They were now at the very nadir of the profession, forced to sneak from port to port in a vessel not much larger than one of the ships’ boats of their former commands.
But what was the use of complaining? That villainous British fleet with its barges and light cruisers was never far away. A round shot across their path might at any moment bring them to, and then the Eastham folks would have to go without the goodly supply of food and drink with which the boat was laden.
As they crept across the bay before a light wind the skippers exchanged reminiscences of their long voyages and found satisfaction in relating stirring episodes of their experiences. Meantime, a good lookout was kept for the enemy, but the coast seemed clear with the exception of a small schooner dead ahead. They took her to be a Duxbury fisherman.
“It seems to me, Win, that the ‘Spencer’ must be in Provincetown. There hasn’t been much for her to fuss about lately.”
Captain Mayo was somewhat older than his companion. He was generally known as “Hoppy” Mayo, the sobriquet being derived from his middle name “Hophney.”
“Yes, it looks that way, Hoppy; but you can never tell anything about that frigate. Old Raggett has got a fine ship and he likes to show her off. Shouldn’t be surprised to see her at any moment.”
“Raggett is a fair enough chap,” said Hoppy. “Of course, he has to obey orders, and he’s got to do the dirty work planned for him in London; but he’s not looking for trouble and if he doesn’t catch you in the act he lets a good many things pass.”
“Damn this war, anyhow,” said Captain Knowles bitterly.
“Yes, Win, damn the war if you like, but it had to come. Why, that last voyage Zeke Bangs made didn’t a British man-o’-war take four men out of his ship and he dare not kick! These Britishers think they own the world, land and water alike, and ’twas about time to let them know some other people had a few rights.”
“Yes, but we weren’t prepared for war,” retorted Captain Knowles.