In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

At the beginning of the log-book of that voyage, which now lies before me, are the words written in Captain Tucker’s own hand: “Pray God conduct me safe to France, and send me a prosperous voyage.” This brief but all inclusive prayer was granted, but not without some mishaps, and some occasions for doubt and fear.

Our departure at nightfall had been purposely arranged to slip by the watching frigates at the mouth of the bay under the cover of the darkness. Without a light we moved swiftly down the harbor, and when below Long Island were able to make out the lights of the three English vessels, a mile or two apart, and sailing to and fro in a way to intercept any craft that might attempt to leave the haven by the usual routes.

The seventy-four was farthest north, and her great draught prevented her from running within two miles of the shore. Captain Tucker, who stood near the helm, was quick to notice this fact, and gave orders to sail the Boston between the great frigate and the land. Possibly the Britisher was not expecting a vessel so large as the Boston to take this course, and so kept no special lookout in that direction; or it may be that the absence of lights rendered our ship invisible at that distance in the darkness. For some reason we made the passage in safety, and in an hour were well out to sea.

In some way, however, the enemy must have learned of our departure for on the 19th at six P. M., we saw three large ships to the east of us, bearing the British flag and concluded that they were the ones watching especially for us. Captain Tucker at once gave orders for our frigate to haul away to the south-west, and so far as we were able to detect in the darkness we were not pursued. Early the next morning the captain called all of his commissioned officers into consultation, and, as the enemy were nowhere in sight, it was decided to return to our original course. We had run but an hour to the northward, however, when we caught sight of two of the pursuing frigates—one of twenty guns, the other, like ourselves, of twenty-four guns. But almost immediately the man at the masthead called out:

“Ship of war on our weather quarter, sir!”

In a short time we were confident it was the English seventy-four. This settled the fact that our enemies were both persistent and vigilant, and would intercept us if they could.

Another consultation was therefore held to which Master Adams was invited, and our situation was freely discussed. Not knowing how fast the Boston would sail, it was concluded to stand away again for the south-west, and at ten A. M., we wore ship and proceeded in that direction. The three Britishers promptly changed their courses, and pursued us.

At noon we had lost sight of the smaller vessel; at two o’clock we set our fore and maintop mast steering sail, and soon found we were leaving the other vessels behind. At six we had lost sight of them in the darkness.

An anxious night followed. We were running at the rate of seven knots an hour, and we had reason to believe that the other vessels were making as good a pace. Would they continue on their present course throughout the night? If so, could we not by dropping off a point or two throw them off our track? These and similar questions arose in the mind not only of our commander, but also in the minds of all of our officers.

Double watches were kept on the deck. Captain Tucker never left it. For three hours we held to the course we had been following before nightfall. Then we fell off a little, though it reduced our speed to six knots. We ran on the new course for another three hours, and then to our chagrin our lookout reported the lights of a large ship almost directly ahead of us. It was evident that while we had shaken off the smaller frigate, the seventy-four was still on our trail.