In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

The fleet made a fine spectacle, if I do say it, and there was an amount of prize money represented there to rejoice every sailor’s heart. Yet with the most of us I do not think that was the first thought. As good patriots we rejoiced that we were bearing home stores which would help to sustain and clothe an army of as true and faithful men as ever fought for home or native land.

I was put in command of the last prize, the brig Sally, bound from London to Pensacola, and having a cargo consisting of one hundred barrels of flour, two hundred bags of bread, one hundred and thirty-nine tierces of beef, three hundred barrels of pork, seventy firkins of butter and a large lot of liquors.

I am glad to be able to write that I took the craft safely into port, and had but one incident out of the usual order. We were experiencing quite a gale, and some of the sailors had been ordered aloft to reef the top-sails. One of them, Richard Jones by name, in some way lost his hold and came tumbling down head-first. As I saw him coming I was confident he would strike upon the deck and be killed. But just before he struck the brig lurched, and, clearing the larboard rail, he went overboard.

Knowing he could not swim, I ordered Quartermaster William Atkins, who was acting as my first officer, to heave to the vessel, and send out a boat. Then, throwing off my coat and boots, I plunged into the sea.

Rising to the surface I looked around for Master Jones, and caught sight of him a few fathoms away. He disappeared before I could reach him, and treading water I waited for him to re-appear. He came up for the last time, only a few feet away, and catching him by the collar I struggled to keep him above the waves until the boat could arrive.

Night was fast falling; the storm was increasing in violence; and the waves rolled so high that I was unable to see the vessel or the boat which I was sure had been lowered. Master Jones was unconscious, and hung a dead weight upon my arm. It was difficult to keep him and myself on the surface, and already I felt my own strength was fast failing. Unless the rescuers came soon we must both go down.

Then there came a faint shout across the water to cheer my heart, and to which I responded in the loudest tones I could utter. I was heard, and the yawl, which had been going in quite another direction, turned and came towards me.

I kept crying out at intervals, and the lookout in the bow of the boat answered, the double cries serving to nerve me to hold out on the one hand, and to guide the craft to me on the other. At length they were beside me, and, nearly exhausted, I was drawn on board with my unconscious burden.

Then we tried to see where the brig was, but between the great waves and the darkness she was concealed from our view. Taking the direction we felt sure she was in, the four oarsmen pulled long and lustily against wind and waves and yet she did not appear. We had about concluded that we had lost her, when her lights suddenly appeared on our starboard, and we were able to hail her. In five minutes we were under her lee, and then were quickly drawn to her deck.

Dry clothing and a warm drink soon brought me to the place where I felt as good as new; but they had to work over Master Jones for half an hour before he came to consciousness, and he could not leave the forecastle until the following day. I have related this incident here not to glorify myself, but to say that it was the only act of mine that ever received a reprimand from Captain Tucker.