In ship and prison

by William P. Chipman

While my men were completing these arrangements, I walked over and stood under a huge tree, whose limbs overhung the beach. Ostensibly I was overseeing the work that was going on in camp, but in reality I was straining my ears to catch every sound which came from the woods behind me. It was just there I believed I had caught the sound of footsteps, and, if I was not mistaken, the intruder was still lying within a few feet of me. My plan was to detect if possible his attempt to depart, and then follow him.

I did not have so long to wait as I expected. Before the meal was ready I heard the concealed man arise to his feet, and move softly back into the woods. Quickly stepping over to where Boatswain Lewis was busy directing the men, I explained to him in a whisper why I left the camp, and then glided in among the trees in pursuit of the Britisher.

I had no difficulty in locating him. As soon as he had gone a few rods away from the shore, he seemed to think he was beyond the reach of our ears, and now moved on regardless of the noise he was making. Moreover, instead of going across the island, he had turned and taken a short cut for its west end. These circumstances enabled me to overtake him rapidly, and I was soon dodging along from tree to tree close behind him.

He soon came out upon the shore, opposite the British camp, where a boat and four men were evidently awaiting him. To them he said in tones loud enough for me to hear:

“I have found the rebels’ nest, my lads. But one boat with its crew has escaped us, having gone back up the coast, to report the landing of the troops, I presume. The other is there, and intends to stay until morning to keep watch of Sir Henry’s movements. They are, however, too many for us, and we’ll, have to cross over to the camp for help. Later we’ll return and capture the whole bunch. Pull away.”

While he was talking his comrades had been getting the skiff ready for their departure, and his last words were uttered as he took his seat in the craft. Slowly it glided away towards the mainland, and, baffled in my attempt to obtain a prisoner, yet thankful I had discovered his design upon myself and men, I turned to retrace my steps to camp.

It was easy for me to conjecture the character of the departing men. They were Tories who had probably seen our boats go down the coast, and, suspecting our purpose, had followed. They would report our presence to the British commander, and he would send over a force before morning sufficient to capture us. It was clear that we must change our camp immediately.

I therefore quickened my pace, and soon rejoined my men, to whom I made known my discovery. Finding they had put off partaking of their supper until my return, I now gave orders for the meal to be eaten. Then we tore down our temporary structure, launched the boat, and proceeded with muffled oars up the shore to the northwestern corner of the island. Here we again landed, and simply carrying the boat up a few feet above tide water, turned it over, raised one side a few inches, and crawled under, making ourselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.

I chose this place for our second camp for two reasons. It was but a short distance above the spot where the force sent to capture us would be likely to land, and I argued that it was, therefore, the last place where the enemy would expect to find us; then, as it was on a narrow point, curving to the west and south, it would enable us not only to overlook the British encampment on the main shore, but to see the crossing and landing of the red-coats when they came in search of us. My choice, however, proved to be a disastrous one, at least for me.

It must have been near the midnight hour before we saw any movement which indicated the enemy were coming our way. All my men, with my permission, had gone to sleep except Boatswain Lewis, and it was he who at length called my attention to a few lights moving slowly down the edge of the narrow strait which separated us from the British encampment. We watched them, and in the flicker of their lanterns counted at least three score men as they embarked in four boats, and put out from the shore.