AN ASTONISHING OFFER
Our first voyage had been of three days duration, and we had captured
two prizes of considerable value. Standing near Lieutenant Salter, as
we left the harbor for our second cruise, I remarked:
“A short and successful trip was ours before, Lieutenant Salter. What
think you our fortune will be this time, sir?”
He smiled. “Who can tell, Master Dunn? This search for prizes is much
like a lottery. We may quickly make a fine draw, as we did before, or
we may get a blank. It’s even possible that we may cruise around for
weeks, yes, this entire voyage, and yet return to port empty-handed.”
“It’s not Captain Tucker’s luck to do that,” I protested stoutly.
“He’s always made successful voyages, and I believe this will be
no exception. We shall not go many days before we capture a craft.
Remember what I tell you.”
“I presume you would like to see them coming so fast the Captain would
find it hard work to make up prize crews for them,” he responded
banteringly. Then he continued more earnestly: “I agree with you. I
believe Captain Tucker sails under a lucky star, and have no idea our
trip is to be a fruitless one.”
He proved a true prophet. The very next day we took a prize--a sloop
from Halifax, laden with dried fish, and bound for Boston. Though not
of great value, it was in no sense to be despised, and to my own mind
it was not unimportant. It meant so much less food for the enemy, and
so much more for our brave troops. With this thought predominant I
raised a cheer as Boatswain Lewis, with a crew of four men, started for
port in charge of her--a cheer which our entire ship’s company joined
in heartily.
Then the prizes followed in rapid succession until we had nine to our
credit, and our number had been reduced three score to furnish crews
for them. Among these were several of great value.
It was just two weeks since we left port when we captured our tenth
vessel, the brig _White Swan_, from the Western Islands for Boston,
with a cargo of fruit and wine. I speak more particularly of this, for
my own personal fortunes were more intimately connected with it.
We sighted the craft at early dawn, and immediately gave chase--and it
was a long one. Heavy laden as she was, and with less than two-thirds
of our spread of canvas, yet she was well nigh a match for us in
sailing. We overtook her by inches. The sun was about to set when we
sent a shot across her bow, and it had gone down when I returned from
boarding her and reported her sailing port, her destination, her cargo,
and the additional facts that she had a crew of twelve, and carried one
passenger--a Master George Rollins.
Captain Tucker kept her by the frigate all night. At daylight he
transferred to her a score of prisoners that we had taken from other
vessels, and, placing me in command with a crew of ten, he directed me
to take her into Lynn. Master Rollins at his own request remained upon
her, and with her captain shared the cabin with myself and Midshipman
Thomas Blinn, who was my executive officer.
We cleared from the _Franklin_ about nine o’clock and started on our
voyage of two hundred miles with high hopes. The brig was a staunch
one, and, as I have already intimated, a fast sailer. Her cargo was
valuable, and I felt what perhaps may be termed a natural elation to be
given the task of taking her into port. It is true I had a large number
of prisoners between the decks, and two men under parole in the cabin,
but I anticipated no trouble from them, and felt myself competent to
fulfill the task assigned me faithfully.
The day was clear and cold. The wind was a favorable one, and we went
ahead at a pace which would have delighted any sailor’s heart. In ten
hours I estimated that we had covered nearly one-half the distance to
port. Let the breeze only keep up and we should reach our haven before
noon on the morrow. With much satisfaction I turned the watch over to
Midshipman Blinn and went below.
Inadvertently the room I occupied was between that of Captain
Williamson and Master Rollins, while Midshipman Blinn had one on
the other side of the cabin. I had fallen asleep, but was awakened
by someone trying to open my door. Fortunately, as it proved, I had
fastened it on entering, and discovering this fact the intruder passed
on and gave a light tap at the door of Master Rollins. The next
instant, as though the newcomer was expected, the door opened gently,
and the man quietly entered.
I suddenly remembered that when I stored my kit under my berth I had
noticed a crack in the partition between the staterooms, and stepping
noiselessly out upon the floor I stooped down, pushed my bag to one
side, and crawled in beside it. Placing my ear to the crack I was able
to distinguish much that passed between Master Rollins and his visitor,
though they conversed in whispers.
He was Captain Williamson, as I had suspected, and had evidently
announced his failure to enter my room, for his companion was saying:
“It is too bad, Captain; so the first part of your plan fails.”
“Yes, and now I’ll try the second,” was the response.
“You’ll need to proceed with great caution, for if discovered they’ll
be likely to put you down with the other prisoners,” Master Rollins now
warned him.
“Yes,” the captain admitted, “but it’s worth the risk. If I can only
crawl along to the hatch and open it, the vessel is ours again.
What we lack in weapons we shall make up in numbers, and can easily
overpower the half dozen men on deck. Then Master Dunn down here and
the men in the forecastle can be taken care of at our leisure.”
“I shall stand by my agreement if you succeed, Captain Williamson, and
add a hundred pounds to the one I am to give you when you land me on
the cape.”
“I have no fear about that, Master Rollins. You have done always just
as you promised, but I think this time I shall have earned it,” the
officer commented, and turned to go.
I waited until I had heard him pass my door, and ascend the ladder to
the deck; then I slipped out of my room and hurried after him. But the
moment my head was above the hatchway I knew that his second plan had
failed, for Midshipman Blinn had been on the alert, and detected his
presence on deck.
“What does this mean, Captain Williamson?” he was demanding. “You know
as well as I do that you were not to come on deck during the night
hours. I must insist that you return to the cabin immediately, or I
shall have to put you in the brig with your men.”
For answer the captain did the most foolish thing he could have done
under the circumstances. He sprang upon the speaker, doubtless with
the intention of throwing him down, and passing over him to the middle
hatch. Perhaps he thought that with a quick rush he could reach it and
let out the prisoners before the watch could prevent him.
But he had underestimated the quickness and strength of Master Blinn.
Leaping to one side, the Midshipman avoided his antagonist, and himself
became the attacker instead of the attacked. Grappling the Englishman
by the waist, he called loudly for his men to come to his aid. I sprang
forward to assist him, but two of the watch were before me, and when I
reached his side, the burly Captain was subdued. Two minutes later he
was in the hold with the other prisoners.
I quickly acquainted my executive officer with what I had seen and
heard in the cabin, and so explained how I came to be on the deck so
promptly. Then I said warmly--forgetting all titles in my appreciation
of Master Blinn’s good work:
“But I hardly was needed here, Tom. You were too alert for the Captain.
No one could have done better. I shall make a full report of your part
in this affair to Captain Tucker.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” he replied heartily, dropping into the same
familiar strain. “But shall I go down after Master Rollins and put him
in the brig?”
“No, I think not, at least at present,” I replied. “I judge he is one
who leaves the risky part of his schemes for someone else to do, and so
we have nothing to fear in that direction. Still, we’ll keep a sharp
eye on him, and put him under arrest the moment we see any reason for
doing so. Now I’ll go back to my room and finish out my watch below.”
I lay awake some time after reaching my berth, and heard our passenger
moving uneasily about his room. Once he cautiously opened his door, and
looked out into the cabin, but he made no other attempt to investigate
into the captain’s whereabouts, so I went to sleep.
At breakfast, however, he ventured to inquire if Captain Williamson was
sick.
“No,” I answered, “he was foolish enough last night to try to liberate
the prisoners, but Midshipman Blinn was on the alert, and put him into
the hold with them.”
He ate uneasily after that, and soon after, excusing himself, went back
to his stateroom. Two hours later he sent for me, and, wondering what
this move on his part meant, I slipped a pistol into my pocket, and
went down to see him.
He closed the door of his room as soon as I was in it, and pushing a
stool towards me, remarked politely:
“Sit down, Captain Dunn, I wish to have a little talk with you.”
“Very well,” I responded shortly.
“I have a proposal to make,” he went on blandly, “one that will be of
great advantage to you personally.”
I bowed, and waited for him to go on.
“I have reasons,” he continued smoothly, “for not wishing to land in
any New England port. So I had arranged with Captain Williamson to
put me ashore in some retired spot on Cape Cod. I was to give him one
hundred pounds in gold for doing this. The capture of the brig by
your frigate has of course made it impossible for him to fulfill his
contract. But if you will render me the same favor, I shall be glad to
give you the same compensation.”
I thought a moment. There certainly was something strange in the
man’s statement. It was clear he did not care to face the Continental
authorities, and I could easily understand how there might be good
reasons for that. But why he was equally anxious to avoid a port like
Boston where the British were in control, for which the brig was making
before her capture, I could not understand. Puzzle as I would over it
I could not explain that. Hoping to draw him out, however, I now said:
“Why not offer me the other hundred pounds you were going to give
Captain Williamson if he recaptured the vessel?”
He stared at me in sheer amazement. Evidently how I came to know of
this fact perplexed him. But he finally replied:
“Well, I will do it. Land me in a retired spot anywhere below Boston,
and you shall have the two hundred pounds.”
I laughed. “I couldn’t think of it for that amount,” I declared.
“Captain Williamson could do it, and it was none of his crew’s business
why he put you ashore in one place rather than in another. But here
with me is another officer and ten seamen, any one of whom could report
my act to Captain Tucker. I must have enough to buy their silence.”
I said this to ascertain to what extent he was willing to go in order
to secure his release, though I had no idea of accepting any terms he
might propose.
“True,” he responded hopefully. “I never thought of that. Well, you
shall have one thousand pounds in gold for setting me ashore, and you
may divide it up with your men as you please.”
I was absolutely startled at this offer. Evidently the whole matter was
a more serious one than I had imagined. Whoever Master Rollins was, he
was too important a personage to be allowed to go. But to keep up the
farce a little longer I managed to query:
“But how do I know you have got so much money at your command? That is
a big sum, Master Rollins.”
His face flushed--in anger, I thought, at my insinuation that he might
not be able to pay me the sum named. If so, he conquered himself, for
in an instant he said haughtily:
“I forget that you do not know me, Captain Dunn. But you shall see for
yourself,” and pulling out two small leather cases from under his berth
he threw them open, removed a few garments, and then exclaimed:
“Look!”
I did look with bulging eyes. In one were coins of gold--guineas,
nobles, sovereigns--hundreds of them; in the other there were coins of
silver--crowns, half-crowns, and farthings even more numerous.
“I have five thousand pounds there,” he declared, and I did not doubt
him.
But who was this strange man? An army paymaster? No, or he would have
been glad to have gone into Boston--_unless he was absconding with
the money which was to pay the wages of the British soldiers_. Like a
flash the thought came to me. The usual place for a paymaster was on a
frigate, surrounded by a force that could convey him to his destination
beyond all question. But if he was trying to make off with the money,
what was more natural than for him to take passage from England to the
Azores, and from there to America where he would wish to avoid both
British and Continental authorities. In fact, the more quietly he could
slip into the country, the better. I was sure I had found the true
explanation why he made his strange proposal--his tremendous offer. But
that was a matter the Continental authorities could settle. My duty
was clear. It was to guard the man and his money every moment until we
reached port and I had turned him over to the proper tribunal. This
decision reached, I said quietly:
“I am satisfied, Master Rollins. Close up your boxes, and put them back
under the berth.”
He did so, and then remarked: “You see I can pay you the amount
promised, Captain Dunn, large as it is.”
“Certainly, sir,” I admitted, “but come now with me.”
Without hesitation he followed me into the cabin.
“Close and lock your door,” I now directed, and he complied, but in a
way that showed he was a little puzzled by my commands.
“Now come in here,” I continued, throwing open the door of what had
been Captain Williamson’s room, and stepping back to allow him to
enter first. He did so reluctantly, and no sooner was he well within
the room than he turned upon me asking:
“What does this mean, Captain Dunn?”
“This,” I explained, drawing my pistol from my pocket and holding it
so it was ready for instant use. “You are evidently too important A
personage to be allowed to escape in any way, Master Rollins. I shall
keep you in here under guard until we are safe in port, and you have
been turned over to the Continental authorities. They shall decide who
you are, and to whom your gold and silver rightly belongs. Meantime
you have the satisfaction of knowing it is locked up and the key is in
your pocket. It shall not be touched until you yourself open the door
for the men to whom I am responsible.” And with these words I stepped
back into the cabin, and closing the door locked him in. Five minutes
thereafter an armed sailor stood before the door, nor was it without a
guard for a single moment until we reached Lynn.
With strict instructions to Midshipman Blinn to take good care of
Master Rollins until I returned, I hurried on shore and visited the
Continental agent. Reporting the prize, I then acquainted him with
the astonishing discovery I had made, and my own surmise about the
mysterious passenger.
“We will soon know,” he declared after hearing my story, “and let me
add, too, Midshipman Dunn, you have handled this whole matter with much
discretion and have proved that your love of country is superior to
British gold,” and he shook my hand warmly.
He returned with me to the brig. First, he had an interview with Master
Rollins, who soon broke down under his sharp questioning, and made a
full confession.
He was Major Ralph Walker, and a paymaster in the British army.
Entrusted with the five thousand pounds to pay off the soldiers in
Boston, he had run away with the money and sailed for the Azores. There
he had secured passage on the brig, and made his arrangements with
her captain to slip quietly into the colonies, where he hoped under an
assumed name to enjoy his ill-gotten wealth.
His confession finished, he willingly opened the door of his stateroom,
and delivered all his personal effects to the Continental official.
Among his baggage were found papers fully substantiating the story he
had told.
The decision of the agent was quickly given. The circumstances under
which the man had been apprehended made no difference. He was a British
officer, and therefore a legitimate prisoner of war; the money he
carried was British property, and therefore a legitimate prize; an
opinion sustained by the entire naval committee a few weeks later. So
the five thousand pounds sterling, added to the value of the brig and
her cargo, made her capture the most valuable prize our frigate had yet
taken.
I never saw Master Rollins, or Major Walker, as I should call him,
again. But I heard some months later that he had been liberated on
parole, and had disappeared. Probably he went to some part of the
colonies where he was unknown, and there began life anew, though in
poverty instead of in wealth as he had planned.