On our passage to New York we met with no remarkable occurrence, and
saw not a cruiser of any nation. On reaching the city, we found that an
extraordinary excitement prevailed. War had been declared against Great
Britain; an American fleet under Commodore Rodgers had sailed the day
before on a cruise. The frigate Essex was at Brooklyn with a complete
and gallant crew, and her commander, Captain Porter, was making
preparations for an immediate departure. This brave officer made no
secret of his intention to bring the enemy to close quarters whenever a
chance offered, and proclaimed throughout the frigate that any man who
repented having shipped might receive his discharge.
One man only of the hundreds composing the crew availed himself of
the captain's proclamation, under the plausible pretext that he was
an Englishman. But it having been ascertained that so far from being a
loyal subject of the king of Great Britain, he was a native-born Yankee
with a cowardly spirit, his shipmates were so indignant that they tarred
and feathered him, carried him over to New York, placed a placard on his
breast, formed a procession, and paraded him through the streets.
There was a great bustle about the wharves in New York, although of
a different kind from that which prevailed two months previous in
consequence of the embargo. Clippers of all kinds and sizes were bought
up at enormous prices, and rapidly transformed into privateers and
letters of marque. Heavy guns, instead of bales of goods, were dragged
through the streets by dray horses, and muskets, cutlasses, and boarding
pikes met the eye at every turn. Fierce-looking men with juvenile
mustachios jostled each other in the streets, and even the dapper clerks
and peaceable artisans swore deeper oaths and assumed more swaggering
airs. News of naval battles was anxiously looked for, startling rumors
of all kinds were afloat, and every vessel which arrived was supposed
to be fraught with momentous intelligence respecting the cruisers on the
coast. I noted these proceedings, caught the spirit of enthusiasm, and
sympathized in the excitement which so universally prevailed. I told
Captain Thompson I had made up my mind to join a privateer. To this
remark the worthy skipper made no reply but by a smile, which I
interpreted as an approval of my determination.
One of my first acts, however, was to call on Hansen, the keeper of the
boarding house where I had formerly resided, and discharge my debt.
I resumed possession of my chest and books, which I regarded as my
greatest treasure. I had recovered from my lameness. I was strong and
active, and although poorly off for clothing or worldly goods, was free
from debt, and had a couple of dollars which I could call my own. My
condition had decidedly improved; the prospect ahead began to brighten,
and I felt able and anxious to perform a manly part in any noble
enterprise.
I took an early opportunity to look around the wharves, and examine the
privateers that were getting ready for a cruise. Two of these vessels
particularly commanded my admiration, the Teaser and the Paul Jones.
The Teaser was a New York pilot boat of ninety tons burden, a rakish,
wicked-looking clipper enough. Her armament consisted chiefly of one
long eighteen-pounder amidships. The Paul Jones was a large schooner
of two hundred and twenty tons, heavily rigged, with immense spars, a
spacious deck, and of a genuine buccaneer model. The armament of this
privateer consisted of one long twenty-four-pounder and twelve heavy
carronades.
After the deliberation I fixed upon the Paul Jones as the more desirable
vessel. The warlike preparations and rakish appearance of this schooner
looked like BUSINESS, and I had seen the insolence of John Bull so often
exhibited on the broad highway of nations, and had so often listened to
his taunts and sneers in ridicule of the prowess of the Yankees, that
I longed for an opportunity to lend a hand to give him a drubbing. I
stepped on board and inquired of an officer who seemed busy in giving
directions, if I could have a chance in the privateer. He asked me a few
questions, to which I gave satisfactory answers. He said there were many
applications of a similar character, but he thought he could insure me a
situation; told me to call next day at two o'clock, when the agent would
be on board, and the matter could be arranged.
The important part which the American privateers bore in the last war
with Great Britain is well known. They were fitted out in every
port, manned by brave and active men, and heavily armed. Managed with
seaman-like dexterity, and superior in sailing capacity to vessels
belonging to any other nation, they could not be easily captured. The
injury inflicted on the commerce of Great Britain by these privateers
is incalculable. They carried terror among our enemies in the remotest
parts of the ocean, and the desire of the British government to put an
end to the war may, in part, be attributed to the activity, courage,
and enterprise of our privateers. The principle has been adopted in
all ages, that private property, captured on the high seas, is a lawful
prize to the captors; also, that the destruction of private property
belonging to an enemy is a justifiable act. To a well-constituted mind
it must appear, on investigation, that such principles are unjust,
belong to a barbarous age, and cannot be advocated on any platform of
ethics recognized among civilized nations in modern times.
An attempt was made within a few years on the part of Great Britain,
which also met the approval of the French government, TO ABOLISH THE
PRIVATEER SYSTEM, on the ground that this mode of warfare is wrong
in principle, irregular subject to abuses, and to a certain extent
irresponsible. A proposition was made to our government to be a party to
an agreement to abolish the system forever. Under the cloak of Christian
philanthropy this was a master stroke or policy on the part of the
British and French governments. Should the privateer system be abolished
and a war unhappily take place between this country and France or
Great Britain, either of those nations, with myriads of heavily armed
men-of-war, could overrun the ocean, and every American merchantman
venturing to sea would be captured or burned; our own commerce would
be annihilated, while OUR FEW NATIONAL SHIPS, scattered over a large
surface, could offer but little check to the commercial pursuits of an
enemy.
Our government met the proposition in a manly manner, and while it
declined entering into any agreement which had for its exclusive object
the abolition of the privateer system, a measure which would inure
chiefly to the advantage of Great Britain or France, it went further,
and declared itself ready to accede to any arrangement by which, during
a war, private property of every character should be exempted from
capture, not only by privateers but NATIONAL VESSELS. This noble
suggestion, worthy a great nation in an enlightened age, did not
meet the views of our friends across the water. This broad Christian
principle, if carried out, would deprive them of many advantages they
might reasonably expect to derive from their numerous ships of war.
It must be evident that in case of a war between this country and a
mighty naval power, which we trust will never occur, the many large
"clipper ships," which compose a large portion of our commercial marine,
will be provided with screw propellers, and transformed into privateers.
Armed with guns of the heaviest metal, unequalled in speed, and able to
select their distance and position, they will prove a formidable means
of defence and aggression; and will do much towards protecting our own
commerce while they will destroy that of the enemy.
With a buoyant heart I left the proud and warlike looking privateer,
Paul Jones, and proceeded to the slip where the schooner Mary lay. For
this vessel, looking so demure and Quaker-like, I very ungratefully
began to entertain feelings akin to contempt. She was now taking in
cargo and was expected to sail in a few days on her return to Newbern.
When Captain Thompson came on board, I told him I had engaged to join
the privateer Paul Jones, which vessel was about to sail on a cruise.
He seemed greatly astonished, and abruptly asked me what I meant by such
conduct. I explained my intentions more at length, and referred to the
notice I had given of my wish to join a privateer.
"I had no idea you were serious," said the captain. "I thought you
intended it as a joke. I didn't suppose you were such a confounded fool
as to think seriously of joining a privateer."
"Why, sir, what can I do better? Our merchant ships will be laid up or
captured on the high seas. Even the coasting trade will be destroyed
by British cruisers stationed along the whole extent of our coast. If
I return to Newbern, I shall probably be thrown out of employment;
a stranger in a small place, and almost as destitute as when I first
shipped on board the Mary. I have pondered on the subject, and am
convinced that my best course is to go a privateering."
"Go to Beelzebub, you mean!" exclaimed the captain, in a rage. "I have
no patience with you. You talk nonsense. The schooner will not be
laid up on her return to Newbern. And, furthermore, you have signed a
contract to perform a voyage from Newbern to New York AND BACK! And I
shall hold you to your agreement. Go a privateering! Pah!"
We had some further discussion, in the midst of which Mr. Jarvis, the
owner of the schooner, who had arrived in New York a day or two before
from North Carolina, came on board. He was a dignified-looking
man, greatly respected and esteemed in Newbern. He espoused captain
Thompson's side of the argument, assured me it was unlikely his vessels
would be laid up on account of the war, and would promise me that in any
event I should not be thrown out of employment. If his vessels remained
idle at the wharves, he would find business for me in his counting room
until more propitious times.
The united remonstrances of the captain and the owner of the Mary came
with a force I was unable to resist; with a strong effort I gulped down
my disappointment, and gave up my darling project of making a cruise in
the Paul Jones. Our fortunes in this life our destinies seem sometimes
balanced on a pivot which a breath will turn. Had I accomplished my
intention and embarked on a cruise, how different my fate, in all
likelihood, would have been!
We left New York about the 2d of July. After having reached the offing,
while pursuing our course with diligence towards Cape Hatteras, we were
overhauled by a New York pilot boat of the smallest size, apparently
bound in the same direction. This little schooner was in ballast, and
skimmed over the seas like a Mother Carey's chicken; ranged up on our
weather quarter and hailed us. It proved to be the Young Pilot, Captain
Moncrieff, bound to Savannah. The mate, whose name was Campbell, was
known to Captain Thompson. They had been boarders in the same house.
After an interchange of salutations and hearty wishes for a pleasant
voyage, the little schooner rapidly drew ahead and passed on her way.
There was nothing remarkable in this incident. I little thought at
the time that this egg-shell of a vessel was destined to exercise an
important influence on the future events of my life.
On the morning of the Fourth of July we were off the Chesapeake Bay,
some twelve or fifteen miles from Cape Henry. Captain Thompson was a
sterling patriot. He dearly loved his country, and gladly caught at
every chance to display the broad flag of the Union. Accordingly, on
this memorable day the gorgeous ensign was hoisted at the peak, the
American jack waved at the fore-topmast head, and a long pennant fell in
wavy folds from the main truck.
"If I had a big gun," exclaimed the worthy skipper, in a paroxysm
of patriotism "a thirty-two-pound carronade, I would fire a genuine
republican salute, and make such a thundering noise, not only in the air
above but in the depths below, as to wake up the lazy inhabitants of
the deep, and make them peep out of their caves to ask the cause of
the terrible rumpus over their heads." At this very moment a
suspicious-looking, double-headed cloud was slowly rising in the west,
and ere long spread over a large space in the heavens. As it rolled
onward, flashes of lightning were seen and a distant rumbling was heard
a thunder squall was at hand. The lightning became more vivid, and the
thunder more frequent and deafening. Every sail was lowered to the deck,
the helm was put hard a-port, and the gust came upon us with terrible
fury. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning kept the atmosphere in
a constant state of illumination, and the peals of thunder were truly
appalling! A grander salute, or a more brilliant and effective display
of fireworks on the Fourth of July, could hardly have been wished by
the most enthusiastic patriot. Even Captain Thompson's longings for "a
thundering noise" were more than realized. He stood firmly on the break
of the quarter-deck, surrounded by most of the crew, who seemed
to gather near him for protection, astonished and terrified at the
sublimity of the scene.
I was standing on the main deck, not far from the rest of the crew at
the time, and noticed that when the storm struck the schooner, some
ropes that had not been hitched to a belaying pin were flying loose and
might become unrove. I stepped forward, and standing on tiptoe was
in the act of stretching up my right arm to grasp the end of the
peak-halliards, when there came a flash of white lightning which almost
blinded every man on deck, accompanied by a peal of thunder that seemed
loud enough to shake the world to its centre. We all believed the
schooner had been struck by lightning. This was not the case. It was,
nevertheless, a narrow escape. I received on my hand and arm an electric
shock, which tingled through every nerve and nearly felled me to the
deck, and rendered my arm powerless for an hour afterwards.
The captain now seemed really alarmed. He ordered me in a loud voice to
come aft, and told the crew to follow him into the cabin, leaving the
schooner to manage matters with the thunder storm and take care of
herself. He produced a bottle of "old Madeira" from a locker, and filled
several glasses; and while the short-lived storm raged fearfully above
our heads, he insisted on every man drinking a toast in honor of the
Fourth of July, and set the example himself by tossing off a tumbler
filled to the brim.
We rounded Cape Hatteras early one delightful morning, and with a
pleasant breeze from the northward shaped our course for Ocracoke Inlet.
Several coasters were in company, and a small schooner was seen standing
towards us from the Gulf Stream. This vessel was soon recognized as the
Young Pilot, bound to Savannah, which we had spoken off Sandy Hook. The
captain of the little schooner appeared to recognize the Mary, hoisted
his colors, and steered directly towards us.
"What can that fellow want?" muttered Captain Thompson. "He should have
been in Savannah before this? What has he been doing away there in the
Gulf Stream? There is roguery somewhere?"
The Young Pilot soon came within hail, when Captain Moncrieff requested
Captain Thompson to heave to, as he wanted to come on board. The boat
was launched from the deck of the pilot boat, and, manned by four
athletic seamen, brought Captain Moncrieff alongside in handsome style.
He jumped on deck, grasped the hand of Captain Thompson, and requested
to have some conversation with him in the cabin. They were absent
communing together for several minutes, when Captain Thompson thrust
his head out of the companion-way, and looking round, caught my eye. He
beckoned me to enter the cabin.
"What's in the wind now?" thought I to myself. "What part am I to
play in this mysterious drama? Something better than reading doomsday
pamphlets, I hope."
I went down into the cabin. "Here," said Captain Thompson to Captain
Moncrieff, pointing to me, "is the only person on board my vessel who
would think of accompanying you on your voyage. I would gladly assist
you in your unpleasant dilemma, but I cannot advise him to go with you.
Nevertheless, if he is willing I shall make no objection."
Captain Moncrieff gazed upon me with a look of deep interest. "Young
man," said he, "you are aware I sailed from New York the same day with
the Mary. My vessel was cleared at the custom house for Savannah; this
was necessary in consequence of the embargo; but I was in reality bound
for LaGuayra, on the Spanish Main, being the bearer of despatches
of importance to a ship belonging to New York. On egging off to the
eastward, to cross the Gulf Stream, my crew, convinced that Savannah
was not my destined port, began to murmur. And when I acknowledged I was
bound to the Spanish Main, they, one and all, refused to proceed further
on the voyage, and insisted on my running into some port on the coast.
I have told Captain Thompson that if I can procure ONE MAN from his
schooner, I will leave these mutinous fellows with him and proceed on
my voyage. Say, then, my good fellow, that you will go with me. I will
allow you twenty dollars a month, and a month's pay in advance more if
you wish it. You shall receive good treatment, and will always find a
friend in Archibald Moncrieff."
When the captain of the pilot-boat, who seemed much excited, finished
his narrative, I quietly answered without hesitation, "I WILL GO WITH
YOU."
He grasped my hand, gave it a hearty shake, and said, "I thank you. You
shall have no cause to regret your decision. Pack up your things, my
lad, and be ready to go on board when I return."
He entered his yawl, and was soon on the deck of the pilot-boat. It took
me but a few minutes to get ready for my departure. Captain Thompson
said not a word, but looked thoughtful and dejected. He appeared
already to regret having been so easily persuaded to accommodate
Captain Moncrieff, by granting me permission to embark on this uncertain
expedition.
It was not long before the yawl returned from the little schooner, laden
with chests, bags, and bundles, and having on board the captain, four
seamen, and the cook. The luggage was tumbled out of the boat in short
order; my chest was deposited in the stern seats. I shook hands with my
old shipmates, took an affectionate leave of Captain Thompson, who had
always treated me with the kindness of a father, and entered the boat.
Captain Moncrieff took one oar, I took another, and in a few minutes
I stood on the deck of the Young Pilot. A tackle was hooked on to the
yawl, which was, which was hoisted in and snugly stowed on deck; the
helm was put up, the fore-sheet hauled to leeward, and, before I had
time to realize this change in my situation, I found myself in a strange
vessel, with strange companions, bound on a strange voyage to the
Spanish Main.