CRUISING.
It lacked half an hour of midnight when I saw dimly in the gloom the
outlines of a man in a boat on the port side of the brig, and knew that
old Silas had fulfilled his promise.
Alec and I had moved restlessly to and fro during the evening,
sometimes walking together, and again separating for a time, as if
courting loneliness; but without having arrived at any decision
regarding a method by which the traitor could be secretly released.
We had formed plans in plenty; but on discussing them some fatal defect
was presented, and midnight was like to find us still undecided as to
how the work might be performed.
“We will trust to chances,” Alec said finally, after old Silas had
made his boat fast and clambered up on the brig’s rail, where he
seated himself. “It is not possible to figure out every detail beyond
liability of failure, and we can only hold ourselves in readiness for
whatever may happen.”
This was not an unwise speech in view of the fact that we had racked
our brains in vain during four hours or more, and it was with a most
profound sense of relief that I gave over the mental effort.
“Is it all arranged?” the old gunner asked in a hoarse whisper, when I
passed near where he was sitting.
“We have agreed upon nothing,” I replied. “At the last moment matters
may turn in our favor.”
“Does the traitor know what we are figuring on?”
“I suppose Alec’s brother has given him a hint of how matters stand.”
“Why not lounge around below, and see how the land lays?”
“Look here, Master Boyd,” I said, seized by a sudden idea, “why should
you not take this matter in hand? You can make a success where we would
meet only with failure.”
“I’m not minded to dirty my hands more than is necessary,” the old man
replied emphatically. “If traitors are to be turned loose instead of
hanged, let some one else work the traverse.”
There was little thought in my mind that I might be able to convince
Silas Boyd it was his duty to help us yet further than had been
promised; but, having nothing better to do, I set about the task,
and by virtue of soft words, mingled with much flattery, I finally
succeeded so far that he said, as if angry because of having yielded:--
“I’ll make a try for it, lad, though it’s hard lines when a man at my
time of life sets about lendin’ traitors a helpin’ hand. Get into the
boat, an’ see that Alec is with you, for if it so be I succeed, we’ll
need to get away in a hurry.”
Then the old gunner went below, and I walked aft where my comrade was
standing near the head of the companionway, hoping, most likely, that
his brother might come on deck to offer some suggestion.
An exclamation of relief and joy burst from his lips when I repeated
what had passed between Master Boyd and myself, and it can readily
be fancied that we lost no time in taking our places in the little
craft, which had been borrowed from one of the gunboats, as I afterward
learned.
During fully an hour we remained silent and motionless, alternately
hoping old Silas would succeed, and fearing lest he had been
discovered, and then two dark forms appeared on the rail above us.
I would have called aloud in order to make certain who they were, but
that Alec prevented any such indiscretion by placing his hand firmly
over my mouth, and while I was thus powerless to speak the gunner and
the traitor descended.
Old Silas cast off the painter, giving the light skiff a vigorous
push which sent her far away from the brig’s side, and when we were
swallowed up by the gloom Alec and I plied the oars.
“Where shall we land?” my comrade asked, when we were midway between
the brig and the shore.
“It makes little difference,” Master Boyd replied sulkily, as if angry
with himself because of having taken part in such business. “So that we
gain the mainland, one place is as good as another.”
No other word was spoken until the skiff’s bow grated upon the sand,
and our prisoner arose to his feet. Then he said in a low tone, his
voice trembling with suppressed emotion:--
“I shall never forget what has been done this night. The word of
one like me is not counted for much by those who hold true to their
country, yet I ask you to believe it. I have come to realize fully
the enormity of my crime, although until taken prisoner I believed
myself justified in the course pursued. From this moment it shall be my
earnest endeavor to repair the wrongs committed against my countrymen.”
Having said this he stepped ashore, and an instant later was lost to
view in the gloom.
[Illustration: “HE STEPPED ASHORE, AND AN INSTANT LATER WAS LOST TO
VIEW.”]
“Perhaps it is best he should go free,” Alec said with a long-drawn
sigh of relief, and old Silas replied in an angry tone:--
“We have made ourselves akin to him by this night’s work, and I shall
never have the same respect for myself that I had four-and-twenty hours
ago.”
Then he took up the oars, pulling vigorously toward the brig, and after
a brief interval I made bold to ask:--
“How did you succeed in getting him off?”
“It was a simple matter. The sentry went forward to light his pipe;
and, with the key you gave me, the door was soon opened. Hubbard must
have been warned of what would happen, for he came forward immediately,
and I had but to lead the way after having locked the cabin as before.
We met no one while coming aft, and soon it was so dark that those on
deck might have rubbed elbows with us and not known who walked by my
side.”
“It is well over, and I feel as if a great load had been lifted from my
shoulders,” Alec exclaimed.
“With me it is as if a heavy burden had been put on my back,” old Silas
added. “The business is done, so far as concerns settin’ the traitor
free; but now we stand a chance of this night’s work bein’ known to our
messmates, in which case not one of ’em would so much as look at us
again. There’ll be a hue an’ cry when it’s known he’s no longer aboard,
an’ there’s a good show of our bein’ suspected.”
This last possibility did not trouble either Alec or I as it did
the old man, and we went on board the brig with the belief that the
disagreeable matter was finally ended.
We turned in quietly, as may well be imagined, but I had not gained any
great amount of sleep when I was awakened by a tumult on deck.
“Hubbard’s escape has been discovered,” Alec whispered when I sprang
up, so bewildered for the instant that I failed to understand the
meaning of the noise. “Our best plan is to remain here as if yet
asleep.”
As he suggested, so we did, and after a short time the confusion
subsided; when, despite the gravity of the situation, slumber again
closed my eyelids.
It was broad day when I awakened; Alec was standing by the side of my
hammock, and the report he made was most assuring.
“I have just been on deck. Matters there are in our favor; it is
believed that the key was left in Hubbard’s door by the marine who
served him with supper--”
“That can easily be disproven by finding the key.”
“It has been kept in the mess-room, in charge of the third officer, who
now reports it missing. In my opinion, old Silas got hold of it after
coming aboard last night. At all events, there appears to be little
fear of our being suspected, more particularly since we shall put to
sea again as soon as a fresh supply of water can be taken aboard.”
Although the escape of a prisoner through what appeared to be
carelessness on the part of his keepers was a serious matter, it
sank into insignificance when a sail was sighted three miles off the
entrance of the harbor, and signals were set for the _Scorpion_ to put
off in pursuit.
The schooner was quickly gotten under way, and while this was being
done orders were given for the entire fleet to follow.
In less than ten minutes after the lookout had reported the stranger,
our squadron was carrying full sail, the _Scorpion_ leading by half a
mile or more, and every man laboring under the greatest excitement, for
it surely appeared as if we were in a fair way to make a prize.
The escape of the traitor was entirely forgotten, for the time being,
and we lads knew full well that the commodore would not press the
matter unless it should seem necessary in order to avoid suspicion.
Most exciting was this chase after we made out beyond doubt that the
strange sail was a British vessel heavily armed.
Every stitch of canvas was spread, and the question as to which craft
in the fleet was the best sailer bid fair to be settled before we were
come up with the chase.
The Britisher was a clipper, and soon gave evidence that she could
hold her own against our swiftest vessel; but where there were so many
against one it seemed almost certain we might succeed in cornering her.
I venture to say that every man aboard the _Lawrence_, including the
commodore himself, remained on deck during the entire day, watching the
chase eagerly.
Now and then it would seem as if the _Scorpion_, which craft was by
long odds the swiftest of the fleet, gained on the stranger, and our
hopes rose accordingly; but only to be dashed a short time later when
the Britisher recovered her lost ground, darting ahead at such a pace
as threatened to give her an advantage that could not be overcome.
The chase headed for the Canadian shore on first discovering our
squadron; but, fearing most likely that we might cut her off on the
west and east, she soon hauled around on a course directly up the lake.
Then, when our vessels were strung out in a line, she came about,
actually doubling on us until headed for the North Foreland.
Signals were set for the fleet to make for the Canadian shore, and we
were no more than on a new course when the stranger hauled around once
more, this time making directly for Put-in-Bay.
“She counts on givin’ us the slip among the islands,” old Silas said
late in the day, when it was certain the Britisher could not safely
make another turn, because orders had been given for our vessels to
take such a course as would cut her off from any more twisting and
turning.
“She’s lost, once she gets inshore,” Alec replied gleefully. “We should
be able to hem her in with but little trouble, and I warrant that
Oliver isn’t losing the sight of such a possibility.”
“He may have such a plan in mind, but I misdoubt his being able to
carry it out,” the gunner said, as he scanned the horizon. “Unless this
is the time when all signs fail, we’ll soon have so much wind that it
will be a question of shortening canvas, and the commodore won’t be so
venturesome as to fool around among these islands, takin’ the chances
of losin’ one or more of the fleet.”
Until this moment I had failed to note the unpleasant fact that the
wind was rising rapidly.
Low-hanging clouds in the east told of a storm, accompanied by more of
a breeze than would be comfortable or pleasant, and, in addition, night
was close at hand.
“The Britisher is in as much danger of coming to grief as we are,” Alec
said at length, after observing the signs of which I have spoken. “Our
pilot should know the channels as well as theirs, and--”
An exclamation of dismay from Master Boyd’s lips checked his speech,
and, following the direction of the gunner’s outstretched hand, we saw
the gallant little _Scorpion_ come to a sudden stop, roll to and fro
for an instant, after which she settled down in such manner as told us
she had taken ground.
An instant later her canvas was furled, and we knew that, so far as she
was concerned, the chase had come to an end.
The Britisher had disappeared behind Put-in-Bay island, and she was no
more than shut out from our view when the squall burst upon us with a
fury such as I have seldom seen equalled.
It surely seemed as if the elements conspired to aid our enemies, and
at that moment I lost hope.
Commodore Perry was a man who appeared to gain courage when the outlook
was most gloomy, and now he gave new proof of his ability to command.
Signals were set for the fleet to heave to, and when this had been
done, the first officer was sent to each vessel with instructions as to
where they should anchor.
The night had fully come before these orders could be obeyed, and then,
from the location of the riding-lights, we could see that each craft
had been stationed where she might best guard the outlet from the
islands.
Unless the Britisher had put to sea during the first outburst of the
tempest, she was held prisoner, and we might make her our prize when
the day dawned.
Master Champlin had already sent word that his schooner was resting
easily on the sands, and could readily be hauled off when the wind
abated, therefore we no longer had any anxiety concerning the
_Scorpion_.
As may be supposed, every vessel in the squadron was snugged down in
proper shape to ride out the gale, which promised to be as short-lived
as it was fierce, and but for the fact that we had lost our prize there
would have been nothing to disturb us.
The stars were shining brightly at midnight; the wind was no heavier
than a gentle breeze, and every man in the fleet remained on the
lookout for the Britisher.
Before morning the _Scorpion_ was floated, and her captain reported
that she had sustained no injury.
When the day broke every craft was under sail, and within an hour we
discovered that the enemy had given us the slip.
He must have gone out from behind the island in the teeth of the wind,
while we were occupied with the _Scorpion_, and the first opportunity
was lost.
“It’s a bad sign,” old Silas said, with an ominous shake of the head,
when we had discovered that the Britisher was not within our grasp.
“It’s a bad sign, an’ I’d be willin’ to give up all the wages comin’ to
me on this cruise if it hadn’t happened.”
“Don’t croak, Master Boyd,” Alec shouted, with a hearty laugh that went
far toward driving the sense of disappointment from my heart; “signs
don’t count except among old women, and because we failed to capture
one small Britisher, there’s no reason to believe we shan’t bag plenty
of them before this voyage has come to an end.”
The gunner refused to be cheered, and as our fleet stood out from the
harbor, heading for Sandusky bay, where General Harrison was encamped,
Silas went below, as if there was no longer any necessity for him to
perform a seaman’s duty.
I am overly long in coming to that portion of my story which is of
importance, and therefore must put an end to the words lest it become
necessary to cut short the account of that day when Oliver Perry made
his name famous, at the same time giving every man of us an opportunity
to distinguish himself.
We arrived off the point of the peninsula at the entrance of Sandusky
bay on the morning of August 18th, and there signal guns were fired
that General Harrison might have knowledge of our position.
Then we waited for some word from the troops until evening, when
Colonel Gaines, with several officers and a guard of Indians, came on
board.
Camp Seneca was only twenty-seven miles away, so the colonel informed
our commodore, and boats were sent at once to bring the general out to
the _Lawrence_.
Four-and-twenty hours later Harrison came on board with a large
following of Americans and Indians, and for a time the deck of the
_Lawrence_ was much like a fair-ground.
From this time until a full week had passed, it seemed as if Silas Boyd
was in the right when he declared that our failure to capture the first
of the enemy’s vessels sighted was proof that ill-luck would attend the
cruise.
Immediately after General Harrison came on board plans for the campaign
were laid, and we spent much time sailing to and fro to find a suitable
place for a rendezvous.
Then my father was sent in the _Ohio_ to procure additional stores
from Presque Isle, and also to make certain that matters there were
as they should be. At the same time the fleet sailed toward Malden
on a reconnoissance, but was met by heavy weather which rendered it
impossible to accomplish anything of importance.
While off the mouth of the Detroit river, Commodore Perry, Dr. Parsons,
Alec, myself, and fully forty others, were attacked by what was
called “bilious fever,” and so many were on sick leave that it became
necessary to make some port.
On the 27th of August the squadron came to anchor in Put-in-Bay harbor,
and instead of being war vessels, it was much as if ours was a fleet of
floating hospitals.
Alec and I were quartered aft, greatly to old Silas’s displeasure, for
he held that we should have remained with our messmates; and a most
dismal time we had of it.
The doctor was so ill that it was necessary he should be carried from
one bedside to another, else had we received no medical attendance, and
we were forced to get along without nursing, waiting upon ourselves as
best we might.
Four days after coming to anchor, General Harrison sent thirty-six men
to act as marines, and take the places of those sailors who were too
feeble to even stand watch.
With a view to giving the invalids a needed tonic, Commodore Perry
ordered the squadron under way, and we cruised to and fro, where I know
not, for at the time I was so ill as to give no heed whatsoever to
anything around me.
It was the 5th day of September when I had recovered sufficiently
to go on deck,--Alec left his bunk four-and-twenty hours before
it was possible for me to move about,--and then many of the crew
were convinced that within a few days at the most we would have an
opportunity to engage the enemy.
I believe of a verity that such intelligence did more toward reviving
the invalids than any of the nauseous potions Dr. Parsons forced them
to swallow, for within twenty hours every man had shown himself on
deck, eager to learn what might be the prospects for a fight.
Old Silas was the one to whom we lads applied for information, as may
readily be guessed, and that which he told us was in the highest degree
cheering.
Our scouts had ventured into Malden, and there learned beyond question
that the enemy were on the point of making a move in some direction.
It was said that General Proctor’s army had but a scanty store of
provisions, and it had been decided Commodore Barclay should at all
hazards open communication with Long Point, where were gathered the
British supplies.
Our commodore believed this information to be true, as could be
understood by the precautions he was taking to prevent the enemy from
slipping past him.
Lookouts were stationed on Gibraltar island; every vessel was kept
in readiness for a quick start; anchors were hove short, sails only
loosely stowed, and no man, save those who acted as watchmen, was
allowed ashore.
We could be in sailing trim within five minutes after the Britishers
hove in sight, and, weak though the majority of the men were from the
recent attack of fever, we knew full well all hands would give the
redcoats a good sample of how Yankees could fight.
Each hour brought us nearer the battle in which we believed we should
win some honor for ourselves, and inflict considerable injury upon the
foe, and it was said by his messmates that old Silas slept with one eye
open, lest by closing both at the same moment he might lose time in
opening them.
It is impossible for me to give even a faint idea of the suppressed
excitement under which we labored during these long, weary days of
waiting!
Fancy what a strain it must be on the nerves to know for five days
and nights on a stretch that at any moment one might be summoned to
do desperate battle for his country--that he might meet his death
during the engagement, or at the best come out maimed for life, and
some slight idea can be had of our mental condition from the hour
of learning that it had become absolutely necessary for the British
commodore to leave his hiding-place.
On the evening of September 9th, all the officers of the fleet were
on board the _Lawrence_, having been summoned by the commander to a
consultation for the purpose of deciding whether it might not be wise
to attack the enemy’s squadron even while it was under the guns of the
fortifications at Malden.
The gentlemen were on the quarterdeck, and amidships the crew had
gathered, hoping to catch a word now and then which would give them an
idea of what might be expected.
Then it was that our commodore did that which would have endeared
himself to every man in his command, even had he been unfriendly with
them up to that time.
Alec and I were sitting cross-legged on the deck by Master Boyd’s side,
and, thanks to the light of the full moon, could see everything that
took place aft.
The officers had been excitedly discussing the question of attacking
Commodore Barclay while his vessels remained at anchor, when Alec’s
brother suddenly unrolled a square, blue banner, on which in letters
formed of white cotton, were the words uttered by the gallant commander
of the _Chesapeake_:--
“DON’T GIVE UP THE SHIP.”
“There, gentlemen,” he said, holding the bunting high in the air that
all might see it, “there is the flag under which we will go into
action, whether on the open lake, or in the harbor of Malden. When this
flag is hoisted at the mainroyal masthead, it shall be your signal
for opening the engagement. We will meet Commodore Barclay inside of
four-and-twenty hours, and when that long-hoped-for moment comes,
remember the instructions Nelson gave: ‘If you can lay your enemy close
alongside, you cannot be out of your place.’”
When he ceased speaking every man of us leaped to his feet as if moved
by a spring, and what a round of cheers rent the air!
It was a timely vent for the excitement which had kept us in a fever
so long, and we yelled until those on the other vessels hailed to know
what had set us going.
If I could have been in Commodore Perry’s stead, and heard an hundred
men or more cheering me in that fashion, it would have been glory
enough for one lifetime.