“Sometimes one has to be battered at as well as to batter, as in the present instance,” I answered. “But depend on it, we shall be allowed to take our revenge before long.”
“Oh, I wish those dreadful cannon-balls would not come so close to one,” sung out poor Harry, half playfully, half in earnest, as a round shot came crashing through the bulwark close to where we lay, throwing the splinters about us, ploughing up the deck, and passing out at a port on the other side.
“I thought you were not going to be frightened, Harry, my boy,” said I.
“Nor should I, I tell you, if I could but be firing in return,” he answered. “Besides, it is the first time I was ever in action, and I have heard that the bravest men are apt to bob their heads on such occasions. Perhaps when I get accustomed to it I shall care as little as anyone for it.”
“I have no doubt you will, Harry,” I replied; and most truly the noble little fellow did not disappoint my expectations. With proud defiance the squadron continued its onward course, still desisting from firing, as if invulnerable to the showers of round shot and bullets which came whistling about them. The enemy were in general firing too high to do much injury except to our rigging; the splinters which flew from our topmasts and yards and came showering down every now and then on deck, and the strange festoons our rigging began to form, the ends of ropes hanging here and there, and the numerous holes exhibited in our sails showed the effect their unremitting fire had caused. Sometimes the wind was so light that we had little more than steerage way, when instantly guns were brought round to attack us. Still we had not performed half our distance. I must own that never, when in chase of an enemy, or when attacked by gun-boats, or when finding my ship set on shore by a strong current, have I more earnestly prayed than now for a breeze to carry us onward. Nothing so much damps the ardour of men as having to sit quiet and be fired at without having the power of returning the compliment. Few can stand it except Turks and Englishmen; Turks because they fancy it is their fate, Englishmen because they know it is their duty. As the shot came crashing among us and the blocks and splinters from the spars and other parts of the rigging came tumbling down on our heads, a growl might every now and then be heard from some of the seamen very like that given by a savage dog chained up as a stranger approaches his kennel and he finds after repeated trials that he has come to the length of his tether. I really felt it a relief when I had to move about the decks on any duty, as was the case occasionally when a slight shift of wind or an alteration in our course made it necessary to trim sails, though I was thus exposed to a much greater risk of losing the number of my mess. Not a man could show his head above the hammock nettings but he was sure to become the mark of a hundred riflemen who were poking out their weapons from the windows of the houses which looked so peaceably at us. As I went about the decks I amused myself by remarking the different expressions worn by the countenances of the men. With respect to the greater number it was that of calm indifference, as if not aware that they were running any unusual risk of their lives. Some seemed to see the danger, but to brave it; many were laughing and joking among themselves, while a few, and only a few, were evidently in no small terror of being hit. I passed near Tom Rockets. His countenance told me that I need have no fear of his doing me discredit. Old Grampus was near him, looking as calm as if he was sitting down to his dinner.
“I have been telling the youngster, sir,” said he, “that one of the first things a seaman has to learn is how to bear the hardships it may please Providence to send him, whether he has to be shot at, as he has now, or to suffer famine on a raft or desert island, or to have the sea breaking over him on a wreck or on the cold, slippery rocks. Maybe he’ll have to try them all before he settles down with a wooden leg, ashore in his own cottage, or bears up for Greenwich, as I hopes to do one day.”
Tom listened to this very gravely, but I suspect old Nol had been amusing himself somewhat at his expense. Hour after hour passed by, and the ship proudly held on her course round Manhattan Island till we reached the eastern side beyond the city, where, at a spot called Kip’s Bay, about two miles from it, the squadron at length, at about seven o’clock, dropped anchor in front of a long line of entrenchments which the enemy had thrown up.
Captain Hudson, having to communicate with Captain Hamond, sent me on board the Roebuck. Having delivered my message, I inquired for my friend Hitchcock.
“He is here,” said Collins, a midshipman I had addressed, lifting up an ensign which was spread near the mainmast.
There lay the poor fellow who was to have dined with me that day, so lately full of life and spirits, now stiff and stark. A rifle-bullet had passed through his heart. Several other men had been killed and wounded on board. Such is one of the chances of war. I returned sadly on board my own ship. In those days such an occurrence had but a very transitory effect.