THE ESCAPE
I struggled with my captors for a while, not so much because I
expected to escape from them, but in hopes that I would thereby aid my
companions in their flight. For I could neither see nor hear anything
of them, and believed I was the only one who had been seized by the
British guards. At length I ceased my efforts, and, yielding to the
inevitable, let them lead me away. They conducted me around the prison
to its front entrance and took me into the superintendent’s office,
where to my amazement I beheld all my comrades, each like myself in the
grasp of two soldiers.
There was a broad grin on the face of the prison overseer as he gazed
at us, and then addressing himself to Captain Tucker, he said:
“It was a neat little game, Captain, I admit that, and with some it
might have succeeded, but not with me. Why, sir, let me show you that I
have known of your scheme from the beginning. See here--” and turning
to the partition back of his chair, he pushed aside an old garment
that was hanging there, disclosing a small aperture, about the size of
a walnut on that side of the wall, but tapering down to a small point
on the side of our room. “With the coat hanging there to shut out the
light,” he continued, “you did not notice the tiny opening, and did not
suspect that many times each day I either had my eye upon you, or my
ear was where I could hear all you were saying,” and he glanced at his
prisoner with a complacent air which said: “I was more than a match for
you.”
Then he went on:
“Oh! I knew you were a shrewd fellow, Captain Tucker, and had
outwitted more than one of our officers before now, but I was
determined you should not outwit me. So I put you and your subalterns
in there where I could literally keep you under my eye. I saw you the
night you cut out the boards of your berth, and immediately suspected
your plan, but purposely allowed you to go on to the end. I was outside
the prison watching when your hand first broke through the surface.
Then I called my men, for I had arranged a little plan, too, and
captured each one of you as you came out of the tunnel, and marched you
in here. I assure you the joke is on you,” and he threw back his head
and laughed immoderately.
It was no laughing matter for us, however, and we were a crest-fallen
group as we stood there looking first at our captors and then at each
other, and realizing that our weeks of hard toil had availed us nothing.
But the worst was yet to come.
“Do you know what I am going to do with you?” the jailer asked when
his laughter was over. “Of course you don’t, so I will tell you.
I am going to put you right back into that room tonight, and leave
the passage open, and you are at liberty to go out if you wish. Only
remember twelve good men are to be stationed outside with orders to
pick you off as you come out of your hole like so many woodchucks,” and
again he laughed as though he had perpetrated another good joke.
Nor was he yet done.
“Tomorrow,” he added, “I shall have you fill up the hole you have taken
such pains to dig. It will be quite a job to put all that dirt back,
but since you thrived while digging it out, you doubtless will enjoy
putting it back. The additional exercise will be good for you,” and for
the third time he laughed heartily.
This is where the worst came in. He kept his word to the letter. Back
into the room we were marched and left to ourselves. There the opening
stared silently at us. We knew it led out into the open air, but not
one of us cared to make use of it; and the next morning under a guard
of soldiers we were forced to fill up the tunnel we had been so long in
digging.
The day after this enforced task was completed the overseer came to our
room. He looked us over quizzically, and then remarked:
“You look tired, gentlemen, and hardly as though you were in a good
condition for a long journey, and yet I am compelled to ask you to take
one. The governor seems to think you are going to be more of a burden
here than he cares to have on his hands, so he has decided to send you
down to Halifax. At sunrise tomorrow you will start, and I wish you a
pleasant journey, a safe arrival, and a long stay in the stoutest jail
we have in all the colonies,” and with mock politeness he bowed himself
out of our presence.
The sun was just peeping above the horizon the next morning when we
were taken down to the river and put on board an open boat, already
manned with an officer and ten men. The jailer himself had accompanied
us, and his directions to the lieutenant in whose care he placed us
were brief but to the point:
“Here are the prisoners, sir; and the governor says you are to deliver
them alive or dead to the governor at Halifax, and take a receipt for
them. It matters little the condition they are in--the point is to
deliver them, so you will know what to do if they attempt to make you
any trouble,” and the grin we had so often seen was again upon his face.
Then the ropes were cast off, the sail was hoisted, and the voyage
begun--a voyage destined to have an outcome very different from what
anyone in the boat, or even the watching official on the shore,
expected.
The wind was from the north, and we soon ran out of Hillsborough bay
into Northumberland Strait, which we crossed to Cape St. George, where
we went on shore for dinner.
The officer in charge of us did not mean to give us any opportunity
either to run away from him or to overpower himself and men, for the
moment the boat touched the shore he marched us up to a large tree not
far from the beach. There he made us sit down, and placed six men
with loaded guns around us with orders to shoot us down if we even
attempted to rise, a thing we should have been glad to do as the long
hours in the boat had cramped our limbs and rendered them stiff and
uncomfortable.
Under his direction, the other four men built a fire, cooked the
dinner, and with himself partook of it. The four fed soldiers then
changed places with four of our guards, who had their rations. The
remaining two were then relieved for their repast. When they were done
a small amount of food was brought to us, but there was no time during
our halt when we were not under the guard of at least six men, who had
their muskets ready for instant use.
During the afternoon we rounded the Cape, and going down St. George’s
Bay, passed through the gut of Canso to Chedabucto Bay, where we ran in
to the Isle of Madame for the night. Within the walls of the garrison
and under a strong guard furnished by the commander, we were kept
securely until the morning, when our journey was resumed.
So far there had been no opportunity for us to have a single word of
private conversation with one another, and if the same vigilance was
maintained by our guards, we certainly should not have one. No plan for
any concerted action towards our freedom could therefore be arranged by
us. Yet we all knew by the looks the Captain occasionally gave us that
he was watching for the moment when we might make such an effort with
some hope of success, and we were all on the alert to assist him when
such a move was made.
During the night the wind had whipped around, and now blew mildly from
the south. It took us some time, therefore, to beat out around Cape
Canso to the ocean, and when there what breeze there was left us. For a
long time we lay there, gently tossing on the ground swell with the hot
sun beating down upon our heads. The natural effect was for us to grow
drowsy, and after a while even the men holding the guns were nodding
sleepily.
When the lieutenant joined us in the morning he had the appearance
of a man who had been up a good part of the night at his cups, and it
now began to tell upon him. For a while he struggled to keep awake,
and then, handing over the tiller to one of his men whom he sternly
cautioned to keep a sharp lookout, he put himself in as comfortable a
position as possible, with his head on the gunwale for a nap.
The heat had a similar effect on us Yankees, but we had an inducement
to keep awake the red-coats did not have. By a glance at us Captain
Tucker gave us to understand that the favorable moment for our action
was close at hand, and with the prospect of our liberty before us we
had no difficulty in keeping our eyes open.
Soon after the English officer dropped asleep, Captain Tucker changed
his own position in the boat to one near the sleeping man. Here he
assumed an easy posture as though he too would take a nap, yet we knew
he was awake and was preparing to act.
That move came, however, sooner than we looked for it and in a way we
had not expected. Catching the lieutenant suddenly by the feet, he
tumbled him overboard, and so adroitly was it done that to all of his
nodding men it had the appearance of an accidental fall into the sea.
Captain Tucker’s next move also seemed to confirm this view. Springing
to his feet as though aroused by the splash, he called out excitedly:
“Quick, men! Put out your sweeps! You must save him! I’ll steer!”
He took the tiller from the bewildered soldier, and again cried out for
the men to get out their oars.
In the excitement that followed--an excitement increased by the
unfortunate officer’s calls for help, for his sword and pistols were
weighing him down--the red-coats dropped their guns and put out the
oars. They were awkward about it, however, and the Captain so managed
the tiller that we were a few minutes in coming up with the struggling
man. Those few minutes were enough for us, his comrades, to seize the
discarded weapons. Dropping overboard all but five, we so placed
ourselves that, when the British officer was drawn into the boat again,
we were in command of it.
Under the stern orders of Captain Tucker, enforced by our loaded
muskets, the discomfited soldiers pulled to the shore where they were
disembarked.
“It cannot be far across the point to Canso, where you will find
friends,” the Captain announced when they were on the beach. “Your boat
and your provisions we shall need. Good-by,” and with a bow as polite
as that the British jailer had given us a day or two before, he waved
his hand for us to pull the craft out to sea.
Early in the afternoon the breeze sprang up again, and we headed the
sloop down the coast, homeward bound, for after some discussion we
decided to run the risk of a voyage in the open boat to Boston.
In the month of August the sea is usually light and the weather serene
from Nova Scotia to Massachusetts Bay. We found it so now, and on the
seventeenth arrived in port without mishap.
Bidding good-bye to our comrades, the Captain and I repaired to
Marblehead, where we awaited the further orders of the Naval Committee.
But two months later Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, and the war
for the independence of the Colonies was over.
The navy, therefore, no longer needed us, and we resigned our
commissions to go back to the foreign trade. For several years the
Captain ran a large ship to French and Spanish ports, on which I served
as first mate. Then I was given command of a brig in the East India
trade and the Captain and I did not see each other for some years.
The War of 1812 sent us back to the navy in which he rose to the rank
of a Commodore, while I won a Captain’s commission. At its close he
retired to a farm he had purchased in Bristol, Maine, while I again
sailed for foreign ports.
It was never my good fortune to visit him in his new home but once;
but I have many times since stood by his grave and read the few lines
written on his tombstone, a just tribute to the man and his service:
IN MEMORY OF
COMMODORE SAMUEL TUCKER
WHO DIED
MARCH 10, 1833
A PATRIOT OF THE REVOLUTION
To this I would personally add:
“And the truest friend I ever knew.”
THE END.
_FICTION FOR BOYS_
LITTLE RHODY
_By_ JEAN K. BAIRD
_Illustrated by_ R. G. VOSBURGH.
At The Hall, a boys’ school, there is a set of boys known as the
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Rush Petriken, a hunchback boy, comes to The Hall, and rooms with
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CLOTH, 12 mo, illustrated,--$1.50
BIGELOW BOYS
_By_ MRS. A. F. RANSOM
_Illustrated by_ HENRY MILLER
Four boys, all bubbling over with energy and love of good times, and
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Mrs. Ransom is widely known by her patriotic work among the boys in
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CLOTH, 12 mo, illustrated,--$1.50
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_THE BRADEN BOOKS_
FAR PAST THE FRONTIER.
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The sub-title “Two Boy Pioneers” indicates the nature of this
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CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
The author once more sends his heroes toward the setting sun. “In all
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THE TRAIL _of_ THE SENECA
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
In which we follow the romantic careers of John Jerome and Return
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These two self-reliant boys are living peaceably in their cabin on the
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CAPTIVES THREE
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
A tale of frontier life, and how three children--two boys and a
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These two books of adventure for boys, by the popular author of the
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CASTLEMON SERIES:
A STRUGGLE FOR A FORTUNE
WINGED ARROW’S MEDICINE
THE FIRST CAPTURE
HARRY CASTLEMON ranks among the best of the writers of juvenile
fiction. His various books are in constant and large demand by the boys
who have learned to look for his name as author as a guaranty of a good
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BONEHILL SERIES:
THE BOY LAND BOOMER
THREE YOUNG RANCHMEN
Stories of western life that are full of adventure, which read as if
they happened day before yesterday.
RATHBORNE SERIES:
DOWN THE AMAZON
ADRIFT ON A JUNK
YOUNG VOYAGERS OF THE NILE
YOUNG CASTAWAYS
For boys who have had their fill of adventures on land, the RATHBORNE
books are ever welcome. They make one feel the salt breeze, and hear
the shouts of the sailor boys.
OTIS SERIES:
TEDDY
TELEGRAPH TOM
MESSENGER No. 48
DOWN THE SLOPE
JAMES OTIS writes for wide-awake American boys, and his audience read
his tales with keen appreciation.
Each of the above books bound in Cloth,
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AKRON, OHIO
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.