CHAPTER I.
ON BOARD THE DIOMEDE.
At sunset, on a wild January afternoon in 1776, the Diomede frigate passed Beaver-Tail light and entered the harbor of Newport. At that time the town was held by a large British fleet and land force.
The Diomede was a crack frigate and evidently had a crack crew from the beautiful precision with which she made a flying moor. It seemed as if in one minute her yards were squared, her sails furled, and her cable rushed out of the hawse hole in a blaze of sparks.
All this was done under the orders of the Diomede’s commander, Captain Forrester, who, being one of the best seamen in the British navy, liked to show his skill in anchoring before the assembled fleet. As soon as everything was made snug the captain went below and, seating himself at the cabin table, began to examine some papers by the light of the swinging lamp. He had a kindly, frank face, which was an index to a kindly, frank nature.
After reading and writing for a while he called to the orderly who stood at the cabin door.
“Direct the master-at-arms to bring me the man and the boy taken prisoners on the brig Betsey,” he said.
The orderly disappeared and a few minutes later the master-at-arms marched in with a remarkably handsome old sailor of about sixty and a boy of ten or twelve.
As soon as the old sailor saw the captain, he touched his glazed hat with prompt civility and in a way very suggestive of a naval man, although he wore the rough pea jacket of a merchant sailor.
Captain Forrester motioned to the master-at-arms to leave him alone with the two prisoners. As soon as the master-at-arms’ back was turned, the captain said to the old sailor: “Shut the door, Bell.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Bell in a tone and manner of deference clearly never learned in the merchant service.