[Illustration: “Mark you, if you miss the craft, you shall receive
forty blows.”
(p. 214)]
IN SHIP and PRISON
A Story of Five Years in the Continental
Navy with Captain
Samuel Tucker
[Illustration]
By WILLIAM PENDLETON CHIPMAN
Drawings by ARTHUR DE BEBIAN
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.
NEW YORK AKRON, OHIO CHICAGO
COPYRIGHT, 1908
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.
MADE BY
THE WERNER COMPANY
AKRON, OHIO
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I I Go In Search of Captain Tucker 9
II In Which I Defy the Captain 22
III Left on the Brig 38
IV A Dastardly Trick 51
V An Unfortunate Remark 67
VI In Which I Have My First Taste of a British Prison 84
VII I Meet a New Friend 99
VIII Our First Prize 113
IX An Astonishing Offer 127
X We Capture a Frigate 146
XI A Distinguished Passenger on Board 166
XII To Halifax Prison 180
XIII On Board a British Frigate 194
XIV I Rejoin the _Boston_ 208
XV In Which We Capture the _Pole_ 223
XVI To the Defense of Charleston 237
XVII Taken Into the British Camp 251
XVIII The Beacon House Light Expedition 266
XIX We Board a Cartel Ship 283
XX Charleston is Taken 299
XXI “The Cruise of the Nine” 313
XXII Captured by the _Hind_ 327
XXIII The Escape 345
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
“Mark you, if you miss the craft, you shall
receive forty blows” _Frontispiece_
“What I want is a second mate” 82
“Master Dunn, you are my prisoner” 158
He soon came upon the shore, where a boat and
four men were evidently awaiting him 270
AUTHOR’S NOTE
“Of those heroic men who were distinguished in the American Revolution
on land or sea, the far greater part have been depictured by able pens.
Monuments have been erected, biographies have been written, and the
elegant historian has adorned their memory with unfading wreaths. * * *
But there is one man of no mean rank in the day of struggle--a pioneer
of our infant navy--who took more prizes, fought more sea fights, and
gained more victories than, with a very few exceptions, any naval hero
of the age.”--From Shepard’s _Life of Captain Samuel Tucker_.
“He did his part, and did it nobly, while our navy was in an embryo
state, and only consisted of a few armed sloops and schooners, and yet
performed such essential service in supplying the destitute army of
Washington.”--From _American Almanac_, 1835.
“It is well enough to bring the body of Paul Jones across the ocean
and bury it in American soil with appropriate honors. But the nation
should not forget that another man--Captain Samuel Tucker--lies in a
neglected grave today; yet no man captured more prize ships, or did
more to feed and clothe the army of Washington than he.”--From _The
Herald_, editorial, 1905.
The incidents of this book are taken largely from the log-book of
Captain Tucker, and are intended to picture the stirring times in which
he lived, and the thrilling adventures in which he engaged. Midshipman
Arthur Dunn, one of Captain Tucker’s officers, is the narrator, and his
story covers the five years during which his commander played no small
part in naval affairs. It is hoped the narrative will arouse in the
heart of every reader an admiration for the brave Captain, and rescue
from oblivion the name of another of our Continental heroes--the man
who did so much to keep the land forces of our Revolutionary struggle
supplied with ammunition and stores at the expense of the enemy.
WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN.
IN SHIP AND PRISON
CHAPTER I
I GO IN SEARCH OF CAPTAIN TUCKER
I cannot remember the time when I did not love the sea, nor is that
strange. I was born in sight of the ocean. My father, and, as for that
matter, his father before him, was a sailor. My first recollections
are of boats and oars, of vessels and ropes and sails. At fourteen I
had made a trip to the Great Banks on a fishing smack and at sixteen
my knowledge of the Atlantic coast reached from Newfoundland to
Charleston. Tall for my age, strong and hardy from constant toil and
exposure, and familiar with all sorts of sailing craft from a shallop
to a ship, I counted myself an able-bodied seaman. I now had one
ambition--to voyage to foreign ports.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the single cable which bound me to the homeland
was severed. My mother--the only parent I can remember, for my father
was lost at sea while I was still a babe--died. I left her in usual
health for a voyage to Norfolk. On my return I found her dead and
buried. In caring for a neighbor, who was sick with typhus fever,
she fell a victim to the disease. A small cottage with its scanty
furniture, a few dollars in the care of Squire Sabins, the village
lawyer, and her dying message--these were my legacy. It was the message
which changed the course of my life, and sent me away from my native
town for years. It read:
“My dear Boy:--
But for you I should rejoice over what the doctor just told me--that
I have but a few hours to live--for it means a reunion with your
dear father, though a separation from you. It is but a change from
the presence of one loved one to the presence of the other. Sixteen
years I have been with you, fifteen years away from him. Now I go to
be with him, and leave you to the care of Him who has promised to be
with the fatherless. He will keep you in all your ways.
Doubtless you know that there is no tie to keep you near home, and
will carry out your long cherished wish of visiting other lands. You
have my free consent. I was a sailor’s daughter and a sailor’s wife.
I believe ‘it is as near to heaven by sea as by land,’ and have no
objection, as you long have known, to a sailor son. I only suggest
that you go to Marblehead and find Captain Samuel Tucker. He was a
friend of your father, and will be your friend and adviser. Possibly
he may be willing to give you a berth in his own ship; if not, he may
be able to secure a place for you with some other captain as good and
trustworthy as himself. This much I am sure he will be willing to do
for you for your father’s sake. Never forget the great truths you
have learned at my knee, and, living by them, you shall some day join
your father and me in heaven. With my best love and a kiss,
Your dying mother,
ELIZABETH DUNN.”
Squire Sabins, who had been appointed my guardian, though himself
averse to the sea, offered no opposition to my plans, and a week later,
with a new sailor’s kit and as fine an outfit as a lad of my age ever
had, I left for Marblehead to look up Captain Tucker--a man whom I had
never seen, but about whom I had heard from childhood, for, as the
sole survivor of my father’s wreck on the coast of France, he had been
the one to bring the tidings of that unfortunate event to my mother.
I arrived at the village in the evening, and was left by the stage at
Mason’s Inn, where I passed the night. Early the next morning, while I
waited for the breakfast hour, I went out on the street for a stroll.
Of almost the first person I met, an old fisherman on the way to his
nets, I inquired for the residence of the man I was seeking.
“Capt’n Samuel, I ’spose you mean, seein’ how thar ain’t but one Capt’n
Tucker here,” he responded. “That big, gabled house, standin’ thar all
by itself on Rowland Hill, not far from the bay shore, is whar he lives
when to home. But he hain’t thar now. He sailed yisterday from Salem
for Lisbon.”
“You are sure of that, sir?” I asked with much chagrin at the thought
that I had lost by a single day the man I was anxious to see.
“I orter be,” he answered good-naturedly, “seein’ how my Bill went with
him, rated as an able seaman for the fust time, an’ I was over thar to
see them off. Bill will make a capt’n yit, ye see if he don’t, for he’s
with the smartest skipper that sails from these parts, who’s promised
to do the square thing by the lad.”
I was in no state of mind to dispute his assertion, or to listen
further to a recital of his family affairs, which he seemed disposed
to make. Thanking him for his information, though it had not been to
my liking, I turned abruptly and went back to the tavern, where the
disagreeable news I had received was confirmed by the inn-keeper while
I was at breakfast.
I arose from the table out of sorts with myself and uncertain what
course I had better follow. I knew I could go back to my native town
and reclaim the place I had given up on the coasting schooner. But
I did not want to do that, now that I had bidden farewell to all my
friends there with the expectation that I should not see them again
for months, perhaps not for years. I could not afford to wait, without
employment, until Captain Tucker returned. Could I find some other ship
in the harbor, or over at Salem, on which I might secure a berth?
Debating this question with myself, I tramped about the town for
several hours, visiting the cliffs, the beach, the wharves, the old
powder house and Sewall fort. Occasionally I made inquiries about the
seventy vessels of various kinds which I could count in the harbor, but
while I found several opportunities to ship on a fisher or coaster,
I did not find a single vacancy on a vessel bound across the ocean.
Towards noon I reached Red Stone Cove, where there lay, stranded
and broken in two, a long boat, perhaps once belonging to an East
India-man. On the stern part of this disabled craft I at length sat
down and soliloquized:
“Evidently there’s no chance for me here, and after dinner I’ll hire a
boat and row across to Salem, and try my luck there. Perhaps I shall
be more fortunate. If not, I can come back here, and take a berth on a
fisher until Captain Tucker comes home.”
Little thinking the latter was the wiser course for me to follow by all
odds, I arose to retrace my steps to the inn. As I did so I noticed
that a yawl had rounded the opposite point, and was coming into the
cove, apparently crossing over from Salem. It occurred to me that here
might be a chance for me to secure a passage over to that town in the
afternoon, so I waited the arrival of the boat. Soon it was near enough
for me to see that it was pulled by two men in sailor garb, while
a third, whose dress and appearance suggested he might be a ship’s
officer, sat in the stern. In another moment the light craft touched
the beach, and the last-named gentleman stepped ashore. As I went
forward to accost him, I heard him say to his companions:
“Remain here, lads, until I return. I shall not keep you waiting long
if I have good luck in finding the man I am after.”
“Aye! Aye! Capt’n,” they replied. “You’ll find us here when you get
back.”
Those words gave directions to the form of my salutation, as I reached
his side. Touching my hat, I said:
“I beg your pardon, Captain, but are you just over from Salem?”
“Yes,” he answered, a little gruffly, I thought, “but what is that to
you?”
“Do you know of any vessel over there that will soon sail for Portugal?”
I added that last word to my query, for it had suddenly occurred to me
that, if I could reach that country, I might join Captain Tucker over
there as well as on this side of the ocean.
“I do,” he admitted, “but why do you ask?” and for the first time he
looked me carefully over.
“I’d like to ship on her,” I cried joyfully. “Will you kindly tell me
her name, and where I can find her captain?”
“I happen to be her master,” he responded affably. “Ebenezer Weston,
of the brig _Young Phoenix_, bound from Salem to Oporto within a few
hours,” he added with growing politeness. “Now tell me who you are and
why you wish to go to Portugal.”
I promptly did so, without a single interruption or word of comment
from him until my story was finished. Then he remarked:
“Arthur Dunn, son of Captain Thomas Dunn, and seeking for a place with
Captain Samuel Tucker. That’s all in your favor, young man. Now tell me
what experience you have had as a sailor--what do you know of a brig
and the handling of her?”
Modestly I told him, saying I hoped to be rated as an able seaman on
the vessel which shipped me.
We had been walking up the beach as we talked, and were now out of the
hearing of the sailors who remained by the yawl, a fact Captain Weston
was careful to note before he spoke again.
“I can do better than that for you, Arthur Dunn,” he then said, “if
you think you can fill the place. What I want is a second mate. I came
over here to look for a young fellow whom I know slightly and whom I
believed would answer for the berth. He may be here, and he may not.
He might be willing to ship with me and he might not. What is more
important, you are here, and are ready to go. Now why can’t we strike a
bargain?”
“I would do my very best, sir,” I stammered, hardly believing it
possible the man could be in earnest in his proposal.
“You are rather young for the position, I admit,” he said more to
himself than to me, “but you have had more experience at sea than the
man I was after, and the stock you came from, as I happen to know, is
excellent. Your father and grandfather were born sailors, and I believe
it will prove so in your case. Anyway, I’m willing to take the risk,
and will tell you what I’ll do. If you will sign for the voyage over
and back, and not join Captain Tucker until he’s home again, which will
be about the same time we heave into port, I’ll rate you at forty-eight
shillings as a starter. How will that do?”
“I certainly shall accept the offer, and thank you for it, too,” I
answered heartily. “When and where shall I report to you?”
He thought a moment; then replied: “There’s hardly room in the yawl
for you and your traps, and it would be something of a job to tote
the latter down here. So you’d better go back to the tavern, get your
dinner, and take the afternoon stage over to Salem. Let the driver
leave you at Long Wharf. I’ll have a boat there for you. This completes
my crew, and we’ll sail on the morning tide.”
“I’ll be on hand, sir,” I promised, and turned towards the village.
Before I reached the bank above the beach, however, he called out:
“Hey there, Master Dunn, I’m usually pretty close mouthed about my
affairs, especially here in this town, so you needn’t say anything to
anyone about whom you have shipped with. Just get your luggage and come
over to the brig.”
“Very well, sir,” I answered, thinking little then about the
strangeness of this request.
A rapid walk of ten minutes took me back to the tavern, where I got
dinner, settled my bill and clambered onto the top of the huge coach
that soon rattled up to the door.
“When shall we see you again?” asked the courteous inn-keeper,
following me out to the stage, with an evident desire to learn more of
me and my visit to the town than he had yet been able to ascertain.
“When I come back with Captain Tucker,” I retorted, little knowing how
true were my words. “I’ve decided to go over the ocean after him.”
“Your business with him must be important, then,” he muttered as the
great vehicle drove away.
Something more than an hour later I was on Long Wharf where I found
Captain Weston had been as good as his word. The two men who had been
with him at Marblehead were waiting for me with the yawl, and, loading
in my kit, they took me swiftly out to as trim a brig as I had ever
seen. Mounting to her deck I was warmly greeted by the man whom I, at
that moment, counted my best friend, but who was to prove my greatest
enemy before that voyage was over.