_The Port of Philadelphia_
The day before Christmas, the warden of the port of Philadelphia,
standing glass in hand on one of the wharves, noticed a strange vessel
slowly coming up the bay. This in itself was not an unusual sight.
Many vessels during the course of a year arrived at, or departed from,
the chief city of the American continent. Not so many small traders or
coasting-vessels or ponderous East Indiamen, perhaps, as in the busy
times of peace before the war began; but their place was taken by
privateers and their prizes, or a ship from France, bringing large
consignments of war material from the famous house of Rodrigo Hortalez
& Co., of which the versatile and ingenuous [Transcriber's note:
ingenious?] M. de Beaumarchais was the _deus ex machina_; and once in a
while one of the few ships of war of the Continental navy, or some of
the galleys or gunboats of Commodore Hazelwood's Pennsylvania State
defence fleet. But the approaching ship was evidently neither a
privateer nor a vessel of war, neither did she present the appearance
of a peaceful merchantman. There was something curious and noteworthy
in her aspect which excited the attention of the port warden, and then
of the loungers along Front Street and the wharves, and speedily
communicated itself to the citizens of the town, so that they began to
hasten down to the river, in the cold of the late afternoon. Finally,
no less a person than the military commander of the city himself
appeared, followed by one or two aids, and attended by various bewigged
and beruffled gentlemen of condition and substance; among whose finery
the black coat of a clergyman and the sober attire of many of the
thrifty Quakers were conspicuous. Here and there the crowd was
lightened by the uniform of a militiaman or home guard, or the faded
buff and blue of some invalid or wounded Continental. In the doorways
of some of the spacious residences facing the river, many of the fair
dames for which Philadelphia was justly famous noted eagerly the
approaching ship. As she came slowly up against the ebb tide, it was
seen that her bulwarks had been cut away, all her boats but one
appeared to be lost, her mizzen topgallant mast was gone, several great
patches in her sails also attracted attention; there too was a
field-piece mounted and lashed on the quarter-deck as a stern-chaser.
The fore royal was furled, and two flags were hanging limply from the
masthead; the light breeze from time to time fluttering them a little,
but not sufficiently to disclose what they were, until just opposite
High Street, where she dropped her only remaining anchor, when a sudden
gust of wind lifted the two flags before the anxious spectators, who
saw that one was a British and the other their own ensign. As soon as
the eager watchers grasped the fact that the red cross of St. George
was beneath the stars and stripes, they broke into spontaneous cheers
of rejoicing. Immediately after, the field-gun on the quarterdeck was
fired, and the report reverberated over the water and across the island
on the one side, and through the streets of the town on the other, with
sufficient volume to call every belated and idle citizen to the
river-front at once.
Immediately after, a small boat was dropped into the water and manned
by four stout seamen, into which two officers rapidly descended,--one
in the uniform of a soldier, and the other in naval attire. When they
reached the wharf at the foot of High Street, they found themselves
confronted by an excited, shouting mass of anxious men, eager to hear
the news they were without doubt bringing.
"It's Lieutenant Seymour!" cried one.
"Yes, he went off in the Ranger about two weeks ago," answered another.
"So he did. I wonder where the Ranger is now?"
"Who is the one next to him?" said a third.
"That's the young Continental from General Washington's staff, who went
with them," answered a fourth voice.
"Back, gentlemen, back!"
"Way for the general commanding the town!"
"Here, men, don't crowd this way on the honorable committee of
Congress!" cried one and another, as a stout, burly, red-faced, honest,
genial-looking man, whose uniform of a general officer could not
disguise his plain farmer-like appearance, attended by two or three
staff-officers and followed by several white-wigged gentlemen of great
dignity, the rich attire and the evident respect in which they were
held proclaiming them the committee of Congress, slowly forced their
way through the crowd.
"Now, sir," cried the general officer to the two men who had stepped
out on the wharf, "what ship is that? We are prepared for good news,
seeing those two flags, and the Lord knows we need it."
"That is the transport Mellish, sir; a prize of the American
Continental ship Ranger, Captain John Paul Jones."
"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried the crowd, which had eagerly pressed near to
hear the news.
"Good, good!" replied the general. "I congratulate you. How is the
Ranger?"
"We left her about one hundred leagues off Cape Sable about a week ago;
she had just sunk the British sloop of war Juno, twenty-two guns, after
a night action of about forty minutes. We left the Ranger bound for
France, and apparently not much injured."
"What! what! God bless me, young men, you don't mean it! Sunk her,
did you say, and in forty minutes! Gentlemen, gentlemen, do you hear
that? Three cheers for Captain John Paul Jones!"
Just then one of the committee of Congress, and evidently its
chairman,--a man whose probity and honor shone out from his open
pleasant face,--interrupted,--
"But tell me, young sir,--Lieutenant Seymour of the navy, is it not?
Ah, I thought so. What is her lading? Is it the transport we have
hoped for?"
"Yes, sir. Lieutenant Talbot here has her bills of lading and her
manifest also."
"Where is it, Mr. Talbot?" interrupted the officer; "let me see it,
sir. I am General Putnam, in command of the city."
The general took the paper in his eagerness, but as he had neglected to
bring his glasses with him, he was unable to read it.
"Here, here," he cried impatiently, handing it back, "read it yourself,
or, better, tell us quickly what it is."
"Two thousand stand of arms, twenty field-pieces, powder, shot, and
other munitions of war, ten thousand suits of winter clothes, blankets,
shoes, Colonel Seaton and three officers and fifty men of the Seaforth
Highlanders and their baggage, all _en route_ for Quebec," said Talbot,
promptly.
The crowd was one seething mass of excitement. Robert Morris turned
about, and lifting his hat from his head waved it high in the air amid
frantic cheers. Putnam and his officers and the other gentlemen of the
committee of Congress seized the hands of the two young officers in
hearty congratulation.
"But there is something still more to tell," cried Mr. Morris; "your
ship, her battered and dismantled condition, the rents in the
sails--you were chased?"
"Yes, sir," replied Seymour, "and nearly recaptured. We escaped,
however, through a narrow channel extending across George's Shoal off
Cape Cod, with which I was familiar; and the English ship, pursuing
recklessly, ran upon the shoal in a gale of wind and was wrecked, lost
with all on board."
"Is it possible, sir, is it possible? Did you find out the name of the
ship?"
"Yes, sir; one of our seamen who had served aboard her recognized her.
She was the Radnor, thirty-six guns."
"That's the ship that Lord Dunmore is reported to have returned to
Europe in," said Mr. Clymer, another member of the committee. A
shudder passed over the two young men at this confirmation of their
misfortunes. Seymour continued with great gravity,--
"We have reason to believe that some one else in whom you have deeper
interest than in Lord Dunmore was on board of her,--Colonel Wilton, one
of our commissioners to France, and his daughter also. They must have
perished with the rest."
There was a moment of silence, as the full extent of this calamity was
made known to the multitude, and then a clergyman was seen pushing his
way nearer to them.
"What! Mr. Seymour! How do you do, sir? Did I understand you to say
that all the company of that English ship perished?"
"Yes, Dr. White."
"And Colonel Wilton and his daughter also?"
"Alas, yes, sir."
"I fear that it is as our young friend says," added Robert Morris,
gloomily. "I remember they were to go with Dunmore."
"Oh, Mr. Morris, our poor friends! Shocking, shocking, dreadful!"
ejaculated the saintly-looking man; "these are the horrors of war;" and
then turning to the multitude, he said: "Gentlemen, people, and
friends, it is Christmas eve. We have our usual services at Christ
Church in a short time. Shall we not then return thanks to the Giver
of all victory for this signal manifestation of His Providence at this
dark hour, and at the same time pray for our bereaved friends, and also
for the widows and orphans of those of our enemies who have been so
suddenly brought before their Maker? I do earnestly invite you all to
God's house in His name."
The chime of old Christ Church ringing from the steeple near by seemed
to second, in musical tones, the good man's invitation, as he turned
and walked away, followed by a number of the citizens of the town.
General Putnam, however, engaged Talbot in conversation about the
disposition of the stores, while Robert Morris continued his inquiries
as to the details of the cruise with Seymour. The perilous situation
of the shattered American army was outlined to both of them, and Talbot
received orders, or permission rather, to report the capture of the
transport to General Washington the next day. Seymour asked permission
to accompany him, which was readily granted.
"If you do not get a captain's commission for this, Mr. Talbot,"
continued Putnam, as they bade him good-night, "I shall be much
disappointed."
"And if you do not find a captain's commission also waiting for you on
your return here, Lieutenant Seymour, I shall also be much surprised,"
added Robert Morris.
"Give my regards to his excellency, and wish him a merry Christmas from
me, and tell him that he has our best hopes for success in his new
enterprise. I will detach six hundred men from Philadelphia,
to-morrow, to make a diversion in his behalf," said the general.
"Yes," continued Robert Morris, "and I shall be obliged, Lieutenant
Seymour, if you will call at my house before you start, and get a small
bag of money which I shall give you to hand to General Washington, with
my compliments. Tell him it is all I can raise at present, and that I
am ashamed to send him so pitiable a sum; but if he will call upon me
again, I shall, I trust, do better next time."
Bidding each other adieu, the four gentlemen separated, General Putnam
to arrange for the distribution and forwarding of the supplies to the
troops at once; Robert Morris to send a report to the Congress, which
had retreated to Baltimore upon the approach of Howe and Cornwallis
through the Jerseys; and Seymour and Talbot back to the ship to make
necessary arrangements for their departure.
Seymour shortly afterward turned the command of the Mellish over to the
officer Mr. Morris designated as his successor; and Talbot delivered
his schedule to the officer appointed by General Putnam to receive it.
Refusing the many pressing invitations to stay and dine, or partake of
the other bounteous hospitality of the townspeople, the young men
passed the night quietly with Seymour's aunt, his only relative, and at
four o'clock on Christmas morning, accompanied by Bentley and Talbot,
they set forth upon their long cold ride to Washington's camp,--a ride
which was to extend very much farther, however, and be fraught with
greater consequences than any of them dreamed of, as they set forth
with sad hearts upon their journey.