"Present my compliments to your honored father, and tell him that his Majesty's officers have the kindest feelings toward these misguided people; and while if attacked we will certainly defend ourselves, we have strict orders to avoid a conflict if possible, and not to fire until fired upon."
"I will remember your message, sir," was Jack's answer; and the Captain, having no further excuse for detaining his young guest, allowed him to depart.
He was soon alongside of the Priscilla, and there, standing at the gangway, was the sloop's master, Jerry O'Brien. Jerry, by an accident of fate, had inherited an Irish name, but he was as arrant a Yankee as ever stepped. He was a handsome fellow withal, and in his natty blue suit much more resembled the Captain of an armed cruiser than the master of a smart merchant vessel. The Priscilla, too, was a wonderful contrast to the slovenly merchantmen around her. She was as clean as hands could make her, and her beautiful lines were brought out by the shining coat of black paint upon her hull. Her men were smart and seamanlike. Jerry O'Brien was the most exacting ship-master on that coast, but he never had any trouble in shipping men, for, while making them do their work with the quickness and steadiness of man-o'-war's men, he used neither blows nor curses. A natural leader of men, he made himself respected first, and after that it is always easy to command obedience.
As soon as Jack Leverett came over the side Jerry took him to the cabin. Jack produced a letter, and by the heat from a ship's lantern some writing in lemon juice was deciphered. It contained a full account of the affairs at Lexington and Concord, of which only vague rumors had reached Machias. At every sentence descriptive of American valor Jerry would give a half-suppressed whoop, and at the end he could not forbear letting out a huzza that made the little cabin ring.
"Suppose," said Jack, who had hard work to keep from hurrahing wildly, "instead of making a noise, we should invent a scheme to capture the Margaretta. If the farmers around Boston could, with hay-forks and blunderbusses, beat off the British regulars, the sailors and fishermen about here ought to be able to get alongside the Margaretta and take her."
Jerry's mouth was large, and it came open like a rat-trap at this bold proposition. After a pause he spoke. "Boy," said he, "the enterprise shall be tried; and if we succeed, you shall be prize-master of the Margaretta."
Jack's heart leaped at these words. He was an admirable sailor, like most of the hardy youngsters on the coast, and had more than once taken the Priscilla on short trips. But his mother and the Squire meant him to be something else than a merchant Captain, and kept him under a tutor when he would much rather have been sailing blue water. For hours Jack and Jerry sat in the cabin talking over their scheme. Jerry knew that the people of Machias were heart and soul with the cause of freedom, and could be depended upon in any desperate adventure. The Margaretta carried four brass guns and a number of swivels; but, as Jerry shrewdly said, if once the Priscilla could grapple with her, it would be a battle of men and musketry, not of guns. At nightfall Jack and Jerry went ashore. A great vivid moon hung in the sky, and they could see the Margaretta almost as well as in daylight. She was a handsome vessel, schooner rigged, and in a state of preparation that showed Captain Moore did not mean to be caught napping. All her boats were hoisted in, her anchors had springs on them, and her sails were merely clewed up, instead of being furled.
"There you are, my beauty," said Jerry. "It's a shame, so it is, that King George's ensign should fly from your peak. You deserve an American flag, and we'll try and give it you."
All that night they spent going from house to house of the men who had the patriotism to enlist with them, and by daylight they had the promise of twenty-five resolute men who, at a signal of three cheers given from the Priscilla, would at once board her and put themselves under Jerry O'Brien's command.
All this commotion on shore had not escaped Captain Moore's lookouts during the night, and although the Captain would much have preferred staying and fighting it out, his orders compelled him to cut and run if signs of an outbreak were visible. The British government then earnestly wished to conciliate the colonists, and by no means to come to blows.