When the hour came I was in the ship’s cutter with my men awaiting the signal from the Providence. My oars were muffled, and a dark lantern was so arranged as to throw light only on the compass by which I was to steer. Almost immediately the signal came—a light flashed three times over the schooner’s rail. I knew that at that instant the lieutenant left her side, but I could not make out his boat. It mattered little, however; for by pre-arrangement, we were to run through the British fleet in different courses, and, if the passage was successful, were to meet at a little cove just north of the Light. If one boat failed, the other was to carry out the assigned task. So I gave the command to my crew:
“Pull away, lads!”
The next minute we dashed away through the rain and against the wind and tide upon our perilous passage.
CHAPTER XIX
WE BOARD A CARTEL SHIP
In a short time I became convinced of two things. First, that we would have no difficulty in running through the British fleet unnoticed. The storm was so severe every patrol boat had been withdrawn; the darkness was so heavy we could not be seen ten feet away; the wind and sea made so much noise that whatever sounds came from us would pass unheard. I dismissed therefore all apprehension on this point immediately. The other matter was more serious, and soon became a struggle for life. It was the battle with the storm. To pull against it took all the strength of my men; to keep the yawl true to her course was an impossibility; to prevent our craft from filling and sinking took the united efforts of four of the crew.
We gained our way slowly. The lights of the British vessels showed that. At length we were among the upper craft, and guided by them, I strove to swing back to the course from which I had seriously deviated. The combined strength of Boatswain Lewis and myself could not hold our helm to its place. Twice we swung dangerously near the enemy’s ships. Once we passed directly under the stern of a frigate but we were unseen and unheard. At length we were clear of the fleet, and now the Beacon House Light itself became our guide.
Two hours had been allowed in the arranging of our plans for us to reach the little cove where we were to make our rendezvous; four had elapsed before we reached there, only to find ourselves alone.
The agreement between Lieutenant Haines and myself was that whoever arrived there first was to wait one hour for the coming of the other party. But that had been on the supposition that two hours were ample to make the passage to the cove even against the storm.
It was now midnight, an hour later than I would have waited had I reached the rendezvous on time. Had Lieutenant Haines arrived there, and, after waiting the allotted time, gone on to the light house? I looked long and earnestly towards the beacon, but there was nothing in the shadows behind, or the rays in front, to give me a definite answer. I confess I was puzzled. I did not know whether to wait my hour there, or to go on immediately to the tower. I finally decided on the former course. I would obey my directions to the letter.
Slowly the minutes passed—so slowly that again and again I put my watch to my ears to make sure it had not stopped. A half-hour; another quarter had come and gone, and I was overhauling the materials I had brought for the destruction of the Light in case the sole responsibility devolved upon me, when my ear caught the faint sound of oars. I listened, and the sound was more distinct, then the lieutenant’s yawl came out of the gloom and touched the shore at my feet.