“We have taken one prisoner, perhaps we may make some more and gain some little credit when we present ourselves with them in camp, so I vote that we go on,” said I; and my proposal was agreed to.
As we supposed that we might be in the face of an enemy we kept closer together than before, and moved on more cautiously. After advancing some way we heard voices in an orchard on the skirts of the wood, and, supposing the sounds to proceed from a party of the rebels, we presented our muskets and advanced towards the gate of the orchard, fully expecting to make more prisoners. Just, however, as we began to move on up started before us a body of two or three hundred Hessians, with glittering brass helmets on their heads, who, with fixed bayonets and loud cries, charged furiously at us. Had we attempted to move they would have shot us, so we stood our ground and sung out most lustily that we were friends. They did not understand us, and, charging on, would, I fully, expected, have bayoneted us on the spot. “Friends—friends! English—British officers!” I sung out at the top of my voice.
“Rebels, rebels!” was the only answer we got; and in another moment we were knocked over with the butt-ends of their muskets. We picked ourselves up as well as we could, and I pointed to my own and Simeon’s white cuffs and lapels, and told them that we belonged to the British fleet, but to no purpose; and what was my dismay when they showed us at a little distance an unfortunate rebel officer who lay on the ground with his leg shot off, and who was dressed in the same uniform which we wore. He told them as well as he could that he knew nothing of us, but they would not believe him, and, having talked together in their hideous lingo, once more knocked us over and began belabouring us with their muskets. I never met such savages, and I am not surprised that they were hated by the poor colonists. I am sure we bore them no love, especially just then. We sung out lustily for mercy, for to our horror we saw that they were about to finish us off by plunging their bayonets into us, when our cries brought up an officer on horseback, in whom, to my great satisfaction, I recognised General Pigot, the commander of the division to which they belonged. He knew me on board the Chatham, and was thus able to assure the Hessians who I was. They made all sorts of apologies, which afforded us a very small amount of satisfaction.
Thanking General Pigot for his timely rescue, we set off to return to our ships, heartily sick of our day’s adventures—hungry and battered, indeed, very much in need both of cook and doctor.
The next day we weighed and, parting from the Phoenix and the other ships with which we had been in company, ran up between Blackwell’s Island and the main. As we were running at the rate of some four or five knots an hour a shock was felt which made the ship shiver throughout her whole frame. The pilot turned pale, as if he expected to be shot on the spot. He had put us on a rock. Captain Hudson, cool as usual, issued his orders as if nothing particular was the matter, and we quickly swung off again and proceeded on our way till we brought up snugly in Turtle Cove. While the ship lay there I was sent, on the 25th, with dispatches to Lord Howe, then residing on Staten Island. My boat’s crew on this occasion consisted either of pressed men or of fellows whom I knew to be among the greatest blackguards in the ship. On the way down they showed signs of an unruly disposition by pulling slowly and not putting out their strength when I ordered them. Their conduct, however, did not trouble me, and I forgot all about it as I walked up to present my dispatches to his lordship. I have always entertained the greatest respect for Lord Howe. He was a good seaman—of bravery undoubted—cool and thoughtful in danger—generous and kind, and considerate for those under his command and careful for their interests. He was much abused by the royalists in America, as well as by many in the army and fleet, as also at home, because he did not seem anxious to push matters to extremes at once with the rebels and allow fire and sword to be carried throughout their territories. But he looked upon them as fellow-beings and fellow-subjects, and though misguided, he considered that they had too much reason for their rebellion to be treated with the severity others proposed. I have heard that after an action he would go below and visit each wounded man as he lay in his hammock, and stop and talk to him, and would send wine and poultry from his own stock to those whom the surgeon thought required it. Such are the deeds by which an officer can easily win the hearts of seamen. I had not to wait long before I was told to walk into his room, and I found myself in the presence of a dark and somewhat hard-featured man—with a figure, however, tall, well-proportioned, and dignified. Had I not known him by repute I should have been somewhat awe-struck, but as he spoke his countenance brightened up, and his kind look dissipated all feeling of fear.
“Sit down, youngster,” said he, “and let me hear your account of the action of the 23rd. As your ship was at hand I conclude you saw it.”
I gave him the best description in my power of what I had seen, taking care to make no reflections on the events of the day. He seemed much interested, and hastily writing a letter, as soon as it was copied, told me to return with it to Captain Hudson.
When I got back to my boat I had no little difficulty in collecting my men, and soon after I shoved off I found that they were one and all drunk. As long as they pulled on I said nothing, but in a short time they began to grumble at having come away without more liquor.
“What’s the odds?” said one. “The shortest way is to go back and get it.”
“My idea, Sam!” cried another. “If we once get aboard our chance is over.”