In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

We could not weather her on our present course, so we hove in stays and stood to the westward. She followed us. For an hour or two we held to the new direction, then we suddenly hove in stays again, and passed her to the windward, and about four miles off.

But she detected the movement, and changing her own course, continued to chase us. Again tacking ship, we soon had the satisfaction of knowing we had at last struck a course in which the Boston was distancing her enemy, and when morning dawned she was out of sight, and we saw no further trace of her.

But barely had we escaped one danger when we ran in with another. A north-east gale swept down upon us, and for nine days we battled with wind and rain and sleet and snow, and were compelled at times to heave to, and at other times to sheer around and run before the storm. I do not think we gained a hundred miles on our way during the tempest.

Then came gentle breezes from the south, the temperature moderated, the snow and ice that had encased us disappeared, and we made fair progress towards our destination.

One day during this spring-like weather, we sighted a vessel to the south-east, which was standing to the west. We changed our course to intercept her, and in a short time were able to make out that she was a large merchantman, carrying twelve guns.

There was no question but that she also saw us; and seeing us, she must have known that we were larger than she, and mounted two guns to her one. Yet she made no attempt to escape us, or, for that matter, to come up with us. She simply kept on her way. When a little nearer, however, we noticed that her plucky commander was preparing himself for an attack. All hands had been piped to their stations. His guns were being shotted, and made ready for firing. His attitude said as plainly as words: “Let me alone, and I’ll let you alone. But if you attack me, you’ll find me ready. I shall defend myself to the best of my ability.” Though we had not yet spoken a word with him, he inspired us with a feeling of profoundest respect.

Had we been without our distinguished passenger, we should have hastened to the attack. But our first duty was to care for his safety, though there had been nothing in Captain Tucker’s orders to prevent him from taking a prize if she fell in his way. Confident that the ship ahead of him must contain a valuable cargo, or she would not be so heavily armed, our commander felt it would be a grave mistake to allow her to pass unmolested. Yet he would not assume the responsibility of attempting her capture alone. He therefore called Master Adams and his officers into council, frankly stating his wish to seize the magnificent ship now in sight.

Master Adams was the first to speak when he had stated the case:

“If I were not here, Captain Tucker,” he said, “you would not hesitate at all in making the attack, would you?”

“Not an instant,” acknowledged the captain.