Peter Parley's Own Story / From the Personal Narrative of the Late Samuel G. Goodrich, ("Peter Parley")

by Samuel G. Goodrich

I remember that on one occasion H. A——, my special companion, and myself, were sent with a letter to an officer who commanded a small picket on the eastern shore, near the mouth of the river; that is, at Point Groton. It was a distance of some three miles. The weather was pleasant, and our route lay along the shore of the stream, which opens into a wide bay as it meets the Sound. As we approached the southern point of the shore we found ourselves quite near to the British squadron. One of the vessels, which we knew as the "Acasta"—for we had learned all their names—was under full sail in a light wind, and coming up toward the shore. She was already so near that we could see the men, and note every movement on the deck. While we were admiring the beautiful appearance of the ship, we suddenly saw several white puffs issue from her sides and uncoil themselves into volumes of smoke. Then came a deafening roar; a moment after, and in the very midst of it, there were wild howls in the air above our heads. At a little distance beyond the ground was ploughed up, scattering the soil around, and the top of one of the forest trees, of which a few were scattered here and there, was cut asunder and fell almost at our feet.

We understood the joke in an instant, and so did the lieutenant who commanded the picket. He was the object of the attack, and the broadside of the "Acasta," sending its shot over our heads, had hurled one or two balls crashing through the roof of the little fish-hut which he and his men occupied. In less than five minutes they were seen trotting off at a round pace, with their cannon jerking right and left over the rough ground behind them. Several other shots were fired, but the party escaped in safety. My companion and myself ensconced ourselves behind the rocks, and though it was grave sport we enjoyed it exceedingly. We could trace the cannon-balls as they flew by, looking like globes of mist twinkling through the air. Several of them passed close over our heads, and grooved the earth in long trenches at our sides. The noise they made as they rose high in the air was a strange mixture, between a howl and a scream. After having thus showed her teeth and made a great noise the frigate returned to her anchorage, and all was quiet. I hope I shall not degrade myself as a soldier in your eyes by confessing that this was the only battle in which I was engaged during this glorious war!

I must, however, mention one circumstance which tried the souls of our company. On a certain Saturday a large accession to the British force arrived in the bay, the whole number of vessels of all kinds amounted to fourteen. This looked very much like an attack, and accordingly there was a feverish anxiety among the inhabitants of New London and the vicinity, and a general bustle in the army from Groton Point to Allyn's Mountain. A large body of militia was set to work upon Fort Griswold. Our company was drilled in the little redoubt which we were to defend, and every preparation was made to give the enemy a warm reception. The general idea was, that a landing of British troops would be made on the eastern side, and that we should take the brunt of the first attack.

The sun set in clouds, and as the evening advanced bursts of thunder, attended by flashes of lightning, muttered along the distant horizon. Our company was admonished to sleep on their arms. Everything wore a rather ominous appearance. There were no signs of cowardice in the men, but they looked thoughtful; and when the wit of the company let off some of his best jokes—which would ordinarily have set the whole corps in a roar—he was answered by a dead silence. It chanced that I was that night on guard. My turn came at ten o'clock. Taking my gun, I paced the bank of the river in front of our barracks. I had received orders to let nothing pass by land or water. It was intensely dark, but at frequent intervals thin flashes of lightning sprang up against the distant sky behind dark rolling masses of clouds.

Gradually the lights in the streets and windows of New London, stretching in a long line on the opposite side of the river, were extinguished one by one; a few remaining, however, as sentinels, indicating anxiety and watchfulness. The sounds on all sides were at last hushed, "and left the world to darkness and to me." More than half of my two-hours' watch had passed when I heard the dip of oars and the flapping of waves against the prow of a boat. I looked in the direction of the sounds, and at last descried the dusky outline of a small craft stealing down the river. I cried out,—"Boat ahoy! who goes there?" My voice echoed portentously in the silence, but no answer was given, and the low, black, raking apparition glided on its way. Again I challenged, but there was still no reply. On went the ghost! I cocked my gun. The click sounded ominously on the still night air. I began to consider the horror of shooting some fellow-being in the dark. I called a third time, and not without avail. The rudder was turned, the boat whirled on her heel, and a man came ashore. According to my orders I marshalled him to the guard-room, and gave notice of what had happened to the captain. The man was only a fisherman going home, but he was detained till morning. So, you see, I can boast that I made one prisoner. My watch was soon over, and returning to my station I laid down to sleep.

All was soon quiet, and I was buried in profound repose, when suddenly there was a cry in the main barrack-room overhead,—"Alarm! alarm!"

"Alarm! alarm!" was echoed by twenty voices, attended by quick, shuffling sounds, and followed by a hurried rush of men down the staircase. A moment after the guard in front discharged his musket, and was answered by a long line of reports up and down the river, from the various sentinels, extending for half-a-dozen miles. Then came the roll of drums and the mustering of the men. Several of our company had been out to see what was going on: they came back saying that the enemy was approaching! J. M—— distinctly heard the roar of cannon, and positively saw the flash of muskets. B. W—— found out that the attack had already begun upon our southern pickets. Nobody doubted that our time had come!

In a very few minutes our company was drawn up in line, and the roll was called. It was still dark, but the faint flash gave us now and then a glimpse of each other's faces. I think we were a ghostly-looking set, but it was, perhaps, owing to the blueish complexion of the light. J. S——, of West Hartford, who marched at my left shoulder—usually the lightest-hearted fellow in the company—whispered to me,—"Goodrich, I'd give fifty dollars to be at West Division!" For myself, I felt rather serious, and asked a certain anxious feeling in my stomach,—"What's to be done?" Johnson, our captain, was a man of nerve and ready speech. When the roll was finished, he said in a clear, hearty tone,—"All right, my good fellows! Every man at his post!" These few words—which were, however, more politic than true, for one fellow was taken with sudden colic, and could not be got out—were electrical. We were ready to take our places in the redoubt.

Messengers were now sent to the two neighboring posts to inquire into the state of facts. Word was brought that the first alarm came from our barracks! The matter was inquired into, and it turned out that the whole affair was originated by a corporal of ours, who, in a fit of nightmare, jumped up and cried,—"Alarm! alarm!"

Our martial ardor soon reconciled itself to this rather ludicrous denouement, though several persons, who had been somewhat chapfallen, became suddenly inflated with courage, which signalized itself with outbursts of "Hang the British!" "They're a pack of sneaking cowards, after all!" and the like. The next morning was fresh and fair. The skirmishing thunder-gusts of the night had cleared the air, and even distant objects seemed near at hand. Before us lay the whole British fleet, still and harmless, in the glassy bay. My lefthand chum, J. S——, who, in the dark hour, would have given fifty dollars to be at West Division, was now himself again. "Come on here, you black old Ramilies!" said he, dashing the doubled fist of his right hand into the palm of his left: "Come on here, you black-hearted British bull-dogs, and we'll do your business for you!"