“Your motive was all right, Master Dunn,” he admitted, “and your plunge overboard to save one of your men was a grand exhibition of courage. But what if you had lost your life, or your boat had failed to return to the brig? She would have been left in a crippled condition, and might not have survived the storm. Do always all that you can to save a man who falls overboard without endangering your ship, but remember that the ship and her cargo are solemn trusts, and the lives of many are to be considered rather than the lives of the few.”
But if he did not appreciate the deed, there was one who did. When Master Jones came on deck, he walked directly to me, and touching his cap, said:
“I owe you my life, sir, an’ it’s yours. I not only thank ye for what ye did for me, but I’ll do my best to make it good some day, sir,” a promise he faithfully kept.
We reached Boston October fifteenth, and while the frigate was being overhauled, the captain and I got a chance to run down to Marblehead for a brief stay. Our coming created something of a sensation this time, as it had on the occasion of our previous visit, though for different reasons. The captain’s prowess had preceded him and his fellow townsmen were proud to have him with them again; for myself, they had heard I had died of the smallpox in the Halifax prison, and were filled with curiosity to know how I came to be alive and well and in my old place on the ship.
Before the month was over, however, we were off to sea again, and during the next six months made such havoc among the enemy’s shipping that a price was put on Captain Tucker’s head. If I recollect rightly, we took a score of merchantmen with large and valuable cargoes, and two frigates, the Glencairn of twenty guns and the Thorn of eighteen.
Early in June, 1779, we went on a cruise to the West Indies which lasted until the following September. During this trip our prizes were so numerous, the British admiral at New York selected the frigate Pole, carrying thirty-two guns, and over three hundred men, and sent her out for the special purpose of finding and destroying the Boston, or as her Captain expressed it: “Of giving that rebel Tucker a sound drubbing.”
We learned of this fact through the captain of the packet Sandwich, which was captured off the Bermudas. Chagrined at the loss of his own vessel, the moment he mounted to our deck, the officer exclaimed:
“Well, sir, you have taken my vessel, but let me tell you it will not be many days before you yourself are captured.”
“Is that so?” Captain Tucker questioned with a smile. “Pray tell me who is going to do it?”
“The frigate Pole,” he returned boastingly. “She has been fitted up and sent out on purpose to look you up and give you a sound drubbing. I heard her captain say he’d do it. She left New York four days ago, and must be down in this region by this time. Your cable is pretty nearly paid out.”