WE CAPTURE A FRIGATE
My orders had been to remain in port with my crew until the _Franklin_
arrived, as Captain Tucker, at the time I left him, expected to bring
in his next prize. He did, but it was two weeks before he came. The
prize he brought was a good one, however, and well worth his fortnight
of waiting. It was a brig from Cork, Ireland, bound to Boston with a
cargo of beef, pork, butter and coal. There had been a little rumor
connected with her capture, which Lieutenant Fettyplace told me about
soon after his arrival.
The vessel was sighted just before she entered Massachusetts Bay,
and a chase began. But no sooner did she find our frigate was after
her than she turned and came down to meet her. When near enough she
signalled that her captain would like to come on board but had no boat,
all having been swept from the deck in a recent gale, as was afterwards
explained. So Captain Tucker sent a yawl after him.
He soon arrived, a short, fat, jolly Irishman. Bowing low before our
commander upon reaching our deck, he began:
“Faith, yer honor, I’m glad to see ye. I’ve been standin’ off an’
on here for two weeks now lookin’ for the likes of ye. I’m Jeremiah
O’Brien, Capt’n of the brig _Blackfriar_, from Cork for Boston, with
vittles for the British army. But I’ve got me pay safe in me pocket,
sir, an’ not a snap cares I if me whole cargo falls into your hands.
Nor is that jest the truth, yer honor. I do care. I’d rather ye
Yankees, as ye are called, would ate the vittles while every mother’s
son of those red-coated spalpeens in Boston go hungry. So, if ye please
to tell me where ye wish me to sail, me men and I’ll become a prize
crew an’ take the brig into port. Or if ye’re ’fraid to trust me, pint
ye own craft for the harbor, an’ we’ll follow in yer wake. What’s the
course, sir?” and with another low bow he waited for Captain Tucker to
speak.
“This is most extraordinary, sir,” our skipper said coldly. “Pray may I
ask what you expect for this betrayal of your trust?”
“There’s no betrayal of trust, yer honor,” he returned somewhat hotly.
“I told me ship-owners I wouldn’t sail the brig over to the colonies
for them without my pay straight down for the entire voyage, an’ that
I was no coward an’ shouldn’t run away from any armed vessel that gave
me chase, however big it was, but that they must run the risk of my
capture. I’m a man of my word, sir. Ye began to chase me, an’ not a bit
did I run from ye. Here I am standing boldly on your deck, though at
the risk of losin’ me brig. What’s the odds, sir? If I don’t give ye
the vessel, ye’ll take her, so she’s yours under either circumstance.
An’ do ye ask what I expect? It’s the privilege of enlistin’ in yer
navy soon as I’m in port, sir, where I can do my best to feed yer
Yankee soljers by capturin’ just such craft as that,” and he waved his
hand towards the _Blackfriar_, while our men broke into a cheer.
The outcome of this singular interview was that Captain O’Brien and his
crew actually sailed the brig into Lynn, following in the wake of the
_Franklin_; and soon after she arrived there her commander entered our
navy as a lieutenant and did loyal service for the colonies.
The frigate sailed again within a few days, but we did not go with
her. By “we” I mean Captain Tucker and myself. Two or three days
after his arrival in port the Captain was notified that he was to be
transferred to the _Hancock_. He was kind enough to request that I also
be transferred, a request that was promptly granted.
This transfer was for both of us a promotion, at least we so regarded
it; a promotion for Captain Tucker, for the _Hancock_, though schooner
rigged, was larger than the _Franklin_, and carried eight more guns and
fifty more men; a promotion for myself, for though I still held only a
midshipman’s commission, I was the senior officer in my rank, and on
the new vessel was assigned to the duties of a third lieutenant, and
received a third lieutenant’s pay. Our first officer was Lieutenant
Richard Stiles, and our second Lieutenant Nicholas Ogilby.
We left port May 9th (1776), and ran up the coast for our first cruise.
For a time the good fortune that had attended us when on the frigate
seemed to desert us. Instead of running in with a prize immediately
we sailed north as far as Cape Race without even catching sight of
one. In fact it was not until we had turned our bow homeward that we
discovered anything to chase. Then we ran in with the ship _Peggy_
which eventually became ours, and proved to be the most valuable vessel
and cargo we had taken. I say eventually became ours, for there were
circumstances connected with her capture as singular as interesting.
We sighted her in the latitude of Halifax--just after she had left port
as it afterward proved--and sailed down towards her. Soon we were near
enough to see she carried eight guns, and had a score or more of men
on her deck. While we watched a flag was run up to her peak, and under
the glass we made out that it was similar to the one flying at our
masthead--at least there was a pine tree upon it.
“She must be an American privateer,” remarked Lieutenant Stiles when
Captain Tucker announced this fact.
“Then why does she set so low in the water?” the Captain queried.
“There must be a heavy cargo between her decks for her to settle down
like that.”
“Perhaps she has taken some prize and for some reason transferred its
cargo to her own hold,” suggested Lieutenant Ogilby.
“It is possible, of course,” admitted Captain Tucker. “We will run up
and speak with her.”
She was so heavily loaded we had no difficulty in overhauling her, and
to Captain Tucker’s hail: “On board ship! Who are you?” there came
the prompt answer: “American privateer _Peggy_, from Machias, Captain
Edward Saunders. Who are you?”
“Continental schooner of war _Hancock_, Captain Samuel Tucker, on a
cruise.”
“I have heard of you, Captain Tucker, and am now glad to see you,”
shouted the skipper of the _Peggy_. “Wish I was near enough to shake
hands with you. Hope you are having your usual good luck in securing
prizes.”
“Thanks! but we have run in with nothing on this cruise,” said our
commander. “But judging by the draught of your vessel, Captain
Saunders, you have had a better fortune.”
“Yes,” was the response. “We captured a brig yesterday. But the shot we
meant to send across her bow struck her in the water line. We had only
time to transfer her cargo to our own hold, when she went down. We are
now in no condition for a chase and so are homeward bound.”
“A safe voyage home!”
“The same to you!”
And then we sheered off and ran out to sea, while the privateer kept on
down the coast. Two days later we were below the Seal Islands when our
lookout reported a sail dead ahead of us.
“What does she look like!” asked Lieutenant Stiles, who at that time
was in charge of the deck.
“Blast me, sir! She looks all the world like that ship _Peggy_,” was
the old salt’s ejaculation. “Only whoever she is, she’s flying the
British flag.”
I was sent aloft with my glass to see if I could make her out, but
could only confirm the report of the lookout.
“Keep your eye on her, Master Dunn,” the lieutenant directed. “We’ll
run down nearer to her.”
In a half-hour I called out:
“She is certainly the ship _Peggy_, but she is carrying the English
colors. No! there she runs them down, and is hoisting the Pine Tree
flag in their place. Can it be she has changed them because she has
discovered we are following her?”
“It looks that way, Midshipman Dunn,” the officer assented. “I’ll
report the matter to Captain Tucker.”
He immediately came on deck, climbed up to the cross-trees, and, taking
the glass from my hand, looked long and searchingly at the distant
sail, and then said:
“There is something strange about this, Master Dunn. She is far south
of her home port. We’ll overhaul her again, and look at her papers.”
In another hour we were in hailing distance, and Captain Tucker shouted:
“Ahoy, there, privateer _Peggy_! How comes it we find you down here?”
“We have decided to run down to Portsmouth,” the voice of Captain
Saunders answered.
“Heave to! I must have a look at your papers,” our commander then
announced.
“That’s all right. I’ll bring them over at once,” was the ready
response.
Then the _Peggy_ hove to; a boat was put out, mid Captain Saunders came
over to us. Greeting him politely, Captain Tucker led him down to the
cabin. Then his visitor handed his papers to him. The Captain passed
them on to me as his secretary, saying: “Look them over, Midshipman
Dunn;” then entered into conversation with his guest.
I went carefully through the documents. They were regularly made out,
and there was not the slightest reason for doubting the _Peggy’s_ claim
to be an American privateer.
“The papers are all right, sir,” I announced, “though I would rather
you would pass judgment upon them.”
He smiled, and taking them glanced at them. Then he said to Captain
Saunders:
“Pardon me, sir, for putting you to all this trouble. But you know the
enemy is now using all sorts of means to deceive us, and we have to
follow out our merest suspicions if we do not want to be outwitted.”
“That is so, Captain Tucker,” his visitor responded. “I know something
about that myself. You don’t feel very well to find they have made a
fool of you. But you are a sharp one, Captain. It will take a smart man
to get the best of you. No apology, however, is necessary for delaying
me. Really, I’m glad to have made you this brief visit,” and he arose
to depart.
In a few minutes the vessels for the second time parted company.
“I wonder why the Captain did not ask him about his flying the English
flag,” I remarked to Lieutenant Ogilby, to whom I had been relating
what had occurred in the cabin.
“He must have forgotten it,” that officer said.
“Oh, the papers being straight, he doubtless thought it none of his
business,” chimed in Lieutenant Stiles, who joined us at that moment.
Three days later we were off Cape Cod when our lookout again called
out:
“Ship in sight, sir, two points off our starboard quarter.”
“Not the ship _Peggy_ this time is it, Jake?” inquired Lieutenant
Stiles, for again he happened to be in charge of the deck, while the
same old salt was in the cross-trees.
“Yes, sir,” was the unexpected response. “Ship _Peggy_, that is what
she is, sir; and she has the British flag at her peak, and is sailin’
to round the cape. Guess she’s goin’ to New York this time, sir.”
Lieutenant Stiles went up the mast at a bound, and gazed at the sail
through his glass for some minutes. Then he came down as rapidly as he
had gone up, and said to me as he passed on his way to the cabin:
“It’s she, Master Dunn, and she’s changed her flag again now that she
has discovered our approach.”
He returned in a moment with Captain Tucker, who was as excited as
himself. The look on my face as I glanced at him led him to stop
abruptly and ask: “What do you think of her, Master Dunn?”
“That she is a British merchantman, bound for New York, with a cargo so
valuable she is taking extraordinary means to prevent capture. She has
double papers, sir, and has shown only the false ones to us.”
“I think you have struck the nail on the head this time,” he declared.
“But if we again overhaul her, she won’t outwit us again.”
Possibly her captain was of a similar opinion, for he did his best
to keep out of our clutches. It was clear he did not relish a third
interview with Captain Tucker.
It was, however, inevitable. Gradually we came up with the craft, and a
shot from our bow-chaser brought her to.
[Illustration: “Master Dunn, you are my prisoner.”
(p. 97)]
“Take the yawl and ten men with you, Lieutenant Stiles, and send
Captain Saunders over here, no matter how much he may protest, while
you remain there and make a thorough search of his cabin. Find
everything you can to throw light on the ship’s real character,” was
Captain Tucker’s command.
“Aye, aye, sir,” the officer responded in a tone that showed he
relished the order; and I confess I almost envied him his assignment.
In fifteen minutes Captain Saunders was on our deck, angrily declaring
that Captain Tucker’s procedure was an outrage. At that moment my arm
was pulled by Bill Nye, an old sailor.
“I ax yer pardon, sir,” he said in a loud whisper, “but that ain’t
Capt’n Saunders, it’s Captain John Linscot of Halifax. I’se sailed with
him more’n once to the West Indies.”
“Come with me, Bill!” I said, leading him aft.
Reaching the two captains I announced:
“Captain Tucker, here’s a man who wishes to throw a little light on the
question you are trying to settle.”
“What is it, Bill?” the Captain inquired, while his prisoner suddenly
stopped talking and stared at the old sailor.
“I only wishes to say, sir, that I know that man. I’se sailed more’n
once with him. He’s Capt’n John Linscot of Halifax.”
“Man, you are mistaken,” thundered the discomfited skipper.
“We shall soon know,” Captain Tucker remarked quietly. “Lieutenant
Stiles is returning.”
A minute or two later the yawl touched the schooner’s side, and the
executive officer, leaping to her deck, crossed over to where the
captain was standing. Saluting him he reported:
“I find, sir, that yonder ship is not an American privateer, but an
English merchantman from London to Halifax, where she changed captains
and then sailed for New York. She has a cargo of muskets, pistols,
ammunition, and army supplies inventoried at fifteen thousand pounds
sterling.”
As he closed his report the English captain laughed.
“I admit it, Captain Tucker. I knew you were cruising off our coast,
and prepared those privateer papers to outwit you, and succeeded
twice. I could hardly expect to do it a third time. I congratulate you,
sir, on taking the finest prize that is likely to be on these seas this
season.”
“I can afford to be as magnanimous, and confess that you are the
smartest Englishman I ever met,” our commander responded.
“I told you at our last interview that it took a smart man to outwit
you,” the Britisher retorted, “but I don’t feel as smart as I did then.”
A hearty laugh followed and the rival captains shook hands. Then a
large prize crew was put on board the _Peggy_, and, under the escort
of the _Hancock_, for she was too great a treasure to send into port
alone, she sailed for Lynn.
In a week we were at sea again, and a rich series of captures followed.
Between that time and the next spring we took forty vessels, many of
them with valuable cargoes.
Then came a prize, the thought of which makes my blood tingle even to
this day. We had been into Salem with prizes. Soon after getting out to
sea we caught sight of a distant sail. On approaching her we discovered
by her tier of guns that she was an English frigate--much larger than
the _Hancock_. Undismayed, Captain Tucker turned to his executive
officer, saying:
“Crowd on all sail, Lieutenant Stiles. The sooner we can close in with
that fellow the better.”
When this command had been obeyed, he continued:
“Have the drum beat all hands to quarters. I wish to address them.”
When we were in place, he said:
“Men of the _Hancock_! I suspect yonder frigate is the _Fox_, which for
some weeks has been scourging our shores. As you see, she is larger
than we are, and carries twelve more guns. I shall not therefore enter
into a cannon duel with her. I shall put our vessel alongside of her
and board her. The moment we touch sides I wish three different
parties to be ready to leap upon her deck--one forward, one aft, and
one amidships. Midshipman Dunn is to lead the first, Lieutenant Ogilby
the second, and Lieutenant Magee, commander of the marines, the third.”
Noticing that the latter officer seemed to hesitate, as though he would
decline the desperate office, he turned to him, saying with a smile:
“If you prefer, sir, you may take my place here, and I will lead the
boarders, for she must be taken.”
“No,” replied the gallant young officer, “I will go and do my best, and
if I fall, will you send these to my only sister?” and he handed the
captain a ring, a watch, and a miniature.
In a few minutes, by a sudden and rapid change of the helm--for in
nautical manœuvering Captain Tucker was unsurpassed by any officer in
the infant navy--he laid our vessel alongside of the frigate, gun to
gun, and before a shot could be fired, or a piece of ordnance brought
to bear upon us, he threw his grappling irons upon her gunwale, and
our boarding parties poured down upon her deck.
I can give you little idea of the terrific hand-to-hand conflict that
now took place. I was a part of the battle, not a spectator of it. But
I know that the intrepid Magee fell in the onset. Heading his band of
marines, he leaped the bulwark, but scarcely had his feet touched the
deck of the enemy before he was assailed by numbers and a sword pierced
his breast.
But his death was not unavenged. Captain Tucker, seeing him fall,
leaped like a lion into his place, and with his stalwart arm cut down
all before him. Having made an open way across the deck for his men, he
rallied them into two lines, back to back, and fought his opponents in
both directions, forward and aft.
Meantime I had reached my position with my division and we drove all on
the bow back to meet the dauntless Captain, while Lieutenant Ogilby and
his men, charging the quarter-deck, drove the enemy forward against our
commander’s second line drawn up to receive them. In this way we soon
swept the deck, and the frigate struck her colors. Three rousing cheers
from our brave men proclaimed the victory.