Harper's Round Table, January 5, 1897

by Various

But the wind was against us, and with a good light to observe our progress I noticed that we were making slow headway. The long-boat was intended to be rowed by six oars of a side. Now, owing to the extra men that we carried, there was only room for ten men to do the pulling; and by some mistake the oars that we were wielding were not all of the same length, some of the cutter's having been put in by mistake. The weight of the swivel caused us to be well down by the head, moreover, and the cockswain had to mind his eye to keep headed straight. All idea, of course, of our getting back to the brig that day at least was done for, and to save ourselves we were making for the shore of Long Island, distant about three miles. But we were not out of range of the guns on the frigate, and consequently we were yet in danger.

"Come aft here, you men in the bow!" ordered Mr. Spencer. "She'll row better. Here, stir a foot!"

He looked back, and just as he did so there came another puff of smoke. I saw the ball smash into the top of a wave, strike the water again, and then, slightly deflected, it came right for us. I saw this first, and backed water, giving a shout of fear. The men in the bow gave a leap forward and tumbled in among us, sprawling over our heads and shoulders, and bruising shins and elbows.

If the shot had struck four inches lower we would have been sunk then and there. It caught the gunwale forward, just abreast of the grating on which the swivel was lashed. The poor fellow pulling the bow oar on that side gave a shriek and dropped his oar, clasping both hands about his head. I looked back and saw the blood trickling over his shoulders and through his fingers. A splinter had almost scalped him. We yawed about and shipped the top of a sea, and it looked like the end of matters, for we were out away to within eight inches of the water, and the bow badly stove and broken.

"Cast loose that gun and heave it overboard, two of you," roared Mr. Spencer. "The rest all aft. No! Steady! Debrin, you and Jones keep your place, and pull, do ye hear, pull."

I laid back with all my might, and so did the man next to me. The brave lad in the bow had recovered from the shock of his flesh-wound, and with another fellow cast off the lashings of the swivel and dumped it over the side. I can never forget the sight of that gory man working there with his broad naked back red from his head to his waist. As soon as it was finished he tumbled weakly across the thwart. The men in the stern-sheets were baling with their hands, and one was using Mr. Spencer's cocked hat with great effect, while Jones and I were giving way at top strength and keeping with a great effort the seas from broaching us. As the weight was now in the stern, we could ride, bar accidents, in half safety. And the oars were taken up again. The bowman bent over and tied up his wounded comrade's head with his neckerchief, and for this the other thanked him as he might for some slight courtesy. But a new terror threatened us.

Two successive shots that had been fired at us during the confusion went wide, but now we saw that they were lowering away a great barge over the Englishman's side, and that the men were sliding down into her.

"Heigh! Look there! The Young Eagle's coming down to pick us up, lads," cried Mr. Spencer, turning about in response to a touch on his elbow from the cockswain. "Pull now, and get down to it!"

He headed the long-boat more to the westward, and we could see that the Young Eagle had repaired some of her damage, and had tacked in the direction we were going. She would have passed almost within range of the frigate, but all at once the latter vessel gained sternway (her top-sails had been aback for some few minutes), and she worked off the bar. Our hopes of rescue fell. Turning on her heel, she made out to meet our brig. Now we perceived that the frigate's sides were gashed, and two or three of her ports astern had been knocked into one big opening. But the barge was after us! Every man rowing in our boat could count her strokes. There was no use of making light of it! She was gaining at every jump, lifting high above the top of a sea, and now and again almost disappearing.

There were twelve good men behind those long white sweeps, and they rowed a light boat with speed in her. We were making for the shore now, and grunting with the weight we put into every backward swing. Mr. Spencer was talking to us after the fashion of a cockswain to a racing crew, calling out continually: