On Board the Schooner.
Fotheringay, in his kindly way, conveyed the captain’s orders to Hoppy
and strongly advised the Cape Codder to make the best of a difficult
situation.
“I feel sure, Captain Mayo, that your patriotism urges you to refuse
Captain Raggett’s ultimatum; but, after all, you are not asked to take
arms against your compatriots. My interpretation of your orders is that
your duty will be to assist Dunton in keeping the schooner clear of the
shoals during the surveying cruise.”
“I’m not any too well read in the law, lieutenant, but I can plainly
see that my assistance to the enemy in war time looks pretty much like
treason to my country. I have heard Uncle Jabez Rich tell the story of
Benedict Arnold too often not to know something of a traitor’s fate.
All the same, lieutenant, ’tis very kind of you to try and make it easy
for me.”
“Captain Raggett is determined to have his way in this matter, Captain
Mayo, and it pains me to think of your position should you refuse
to carry out his orders. I have heard some stories of the fearful
punishments suffered by recalcitrant American prisoners and I know
Barclay of the ‘Grampus’ does not mince matters when dealing with such
unfortunates.”
“Aye,” said Hoppy, “I know the poor devils are badly treated. Dunton
seems to know that we are to be shipmates; he passed me a short time
ago and there was a triumphant leer on his countenance. I shouldn’t
call him a handsome man at the best of times, but the look he favored
me with would become the devil himself!”
“Yes, Captain Mayo, Dunton has got orders to be ready for the cruise. I
regret that you should be under his command, but I trust you will see
the uselessness of running foul of him.”
“Oh, you can trust me for that, lieutenant. I shall make it a point to
steer clear of him as much as I can. Anyway, as the schooner will have
a crew of twenty it looks like a poor chance for me in case of trouble!”
“The crew will treat you all right. They are all good men and
especially detailed for this business on account of their good
characters. Like all man-o’-war’s men they like their frolic and their
grog, but Dunton is not very popular and he is sure to limit the strong
waters.”
“Then his popularity won’t increase, Mr. Fotheringay. When do we start?”
“The frigate sails tomorrow for a practice cruise in Massachusetts bay
and it is probable that the schooner will leave at the same time.”
“All right, Mr. Fotheringay; you can tell Captain Raggett that I shall
do my best to help Dunton in the survey. Between us we should be able
to find out the dangerous places, and they are many. I wonder what Win
Knowles thinks of all this!”
“Captain Knowles will be very busy getting that ransom money,” replied
the lieutenant smilingly.
“He’ll be in a devil of a state of mind when he finds that he can’t get
back to the frigate! However, I gave him a broad hint that his journey
would do me no good, but Win was always one of those fellows that you
can’t convince when he’s made up his mind that his own ideas are the
best.”
Fotheringay reported Hoppy’s decision to the commander and the latter
expressed his satisfaction at the Cape Codder’s acquiescence in the
project. Next morning, the frigate passed out of Provincetown harbor
and headed for the northwest. Soon after, the schooner’s anchor was
weighed and the memorable cruise began.
It was a lovely morning. Before the gentle breeze the schooner
took her leisurely way across Cape Cod bay and in the direction
of Barnstable. As he stood on her deck, Hoppy Mayo was a prey to
conflicting thoughts. He little dreamed that at the finish of the
adventure in which he was an unwilling participant he should occupy a
niche in the temple of fame, or that his name should be handed down
through the years as that of a man who had not hesitated in the face of
fearful odds to match his strategy against the foes of his country and
win undying renown by an act of individual daring which has rarely been
equaled in our naval annals. No such thought crossed his mind; but, on
the contrary, he felt already the opprobrium which would be his lot
when history should record the fact that he had aided the enemies of
the fatherland. True, he had not abandoned all hope; his keen mind had
been at work and he had reasoned it out that there was still a chance
left. This chance was a remote one, but stranger things had occurred
and fortune might yet favor him.
As the schooner crept across the bay, Hoppy’s gaze ranged along the
low-lying shores of old Cape Cod. The long stretches of white strand
glistened in the sunlight and the tiny hillocks, known as the dunes,
seemed to be engaged in a brave effort to raise themselves above the
tops of the sea pines and the stunted oaks of the neighboring groves.
Billingsgate Point broke the sameness of the coastline and guarded the
harbor of Wellfleet, the only important haven south of Provincetown,
the other landing-places being small creeks and inlets. The high
tide concealed the treacherous flats so much dreaded by the British
commander, and the placid surface of the sea revealed no evidence of
the dangerous sandbars on which many a heedless mariner had come to
grief. Within the encircling arm of the Cape, almost at the point where
it abruptly turns northward, the pilot could see his native village
of Eastham, and the sight added to his bitterness of soul. Cape Cod
towns were then, and, indeed, are at the present day, straggling
places altogether different from the old-world idea of a town. They are
properly townships, each about six miles in length and, on the lower
Cape, from Brewster to Provincetown, the width of each township varies
with the Cape itself, being bounded on either side by the ocean and the
bay, narrowing from about three miles at Orleans to a good deal less
at Truro and Provincetown. There is no crowding of habitations in the
villages. Land is cheap and the people believe in plenty of elbow room.
For the first time since the outbreak of hostilities, Hoppy felt
inclined to coincide with the views of Jared Higgins, Winslow Knowles
and other leaders of the anti-war party. It was easy enough to join in
the patriotic indignation aroused by the acts of the British, but it
was one thing to wax eloquent on the question at Crosby’s and another
to be helpless in the hands of the enemy, forced to obey the orders of
a bully like Dunton and obliged to play a part, the very thought of
which brought the blush of shame to his cheek. There, a few miles away,
were “his young barbarians all at play.” There were his neighbors, the
playmates of his childhood and the companions of his youth and manhood.
Peace, for the moment, hovered over the scene and in the absence of
the warships there appeared nothing likely to disturb the seeming
tranquility of the smiling land. But what of the morrow? The thunder of
the enemy’s guns would bring terror to helpless women and children and
many a happy home might suffer the loss of its brave defenders. Ruined
rooftree and bloody corpse would testify to Britannia’s might, and all
because the cradle-land of his race with cruel arrogance refused to the
youthful and still weak American nation the rights which every free
people must maintain or perish. So absorbed was the captive in these
reflections that he did not notice the approach of Dunton until the
latter’s voice brought him to with a start.
“Taking in the scenery, Mayo? One would think you had never seen it
before by the attention you seem to be giving it.”
Hoppy took no notice of the sneering tone in which this was said. He
had made up his mind to stand a lot from Dunton, but every insult would
be stored in his memory and when the proper time arrived the Englishman
would be amply repaid in a manner thoroughly satisfactory to the
American.
“It looks kind of pretty at this distance, Mr. Dunton.”
“Seems to me you have a queer idea of prettiness, Mayo. A few heaps of
sand and a few miserable patches of trees don’t make a pretty scene, to
my mind. How sensible people can be content to live on such a sandbar
is more than I can understand.”
“Yet, Mr. Dunton, the men who first settled here were Englishmen and
their descendants are still the owners of the land.”
“That may be so, Mayo, but I have heard the first English in these
parts were a set of cranks who left England because they could not get
along with their own people.”
“Then there must be quite a lot of that crankiness left in the blood,”
answered Hoppy slyly. “The present inhabitants have no great welcome
for their friends from the other side.”
“Any Englishman who would leave his own country for this savage place
must have something wrong with him. You have no aristocracy here,
Mayo, and any country without an aristocracy can never rank as a great
nation. What would England be without her aristocracy?”
Hoppy was surprised to find Dunton in such a conversational mood and
gave him every encouragement to talk.
“What good does an aristocracy do for England, Mr. Dunton?”
“Of course you Yankees can’t be expected to understand the matter,
Mayo; but, for one thing, will you tell me how England could officer
her army and navy unless she had an aristocracy to furnish the men for
the positions?”
“I certainly can’t answer that question, Mr. Dunton, knowing so very
little about your ways over there, but I have heard Uncle Jabez Rich
say that a title does not make a man an aristocrat.”
“Whoever this Rich is, he’s a fool, Mayo. What’s a title for unless it
be for the purpose of placing a man in the aristocratic class?”
“Then you wouldn’t consider such a man as George Washington an
aristocrat?”
Dunton laughed heartily at this question. “No, Mayo, indeed I wouldn’t,
although I have heard that your great man was a cut above the common
people. He would probably rank as a small squire with us, or as a
gentleman farmer. Lafayette was an aristocrat, though only a French
one.”
“By George, Mr. Dunton, I see my education has been sadly neglected!
All I can say is that Washington fought pretty well considering he
wasn’t an aristocrat!”
“He couldn’t have won without Lafayette’s help, and that proves that
an aristocrat makes the best commanding officer. Then he had Baron
Steuben, another aristocrat, to drill his men.”
“You will excuse my ignorance, Mr. Dunton, but wasn’t Lord Cornwallis
an aristocrat and wasn’t the British army crowded with aristocratic
officers?”
“Yes, that’s true, but the men they commanded were only a meazly set of
Hessian mercenaries.”
“Oh, I see,” said Hoppy as if he were convinced.
The schooner was now within a few miles of Nobscusset Point. Soundings
were taken frequently but the results showed no immediate danger.
Dunton, however, decided to cast anchor and he informed Hoppy that
if the wind were favorable later he should survey to the eastward
and anchor for the night off Brewster. But the wind became easterly,
continuing so all day, and as evening approached, Dunton gave orders to
make all snug for the night. So ended the first day of the cruise and
Hoppy was thankful that his commanding officer had conducted himself
fairly well so far.