Quits!
There was no rest that night for the men on board the schooner. The
gale continued with unabated fury, momentarily threatening destruction
to the vessel, and Dunton knew that if the cable broke all hands would
be required at once to try and work her off the Wellfleet shore, which
was under their lee. The darkness and the absence of guiding lights on
the land made him uncertain of his position, though a cast of the lead
showed a safe depth of water.
To add to his discomfort, Dunton was aware that, through an oversight,
the schooner had only one large anchor to depend on. It may be said
that Hoppy Mayo also knew that there was but one anchor fit for the
occasion, but, for reasons of his own, he suffered no anxiety on that
point.
The pilot felt that the supreme hour of his life was at hand. He had
faith in himself and in the justness of his cause. He refused to
entertain the thought that the Arbiter of all things would decide
against him in his struggle with his foes; but, whatever the outcome,
he was determined to meet the end undauntedly as became a true American
sailor.
Dunton shouted through the storm:
“It will be high water at two o’clock, Mayo; there may be a change of
weather on the ebb?”
“I hope so, Mr. Dunton, and I believe there will be some abatement of
the wind at half tide. This storm seems to be a double-decker; that
last crash of thunder shows there’s more behind it.”
Then a big wave struck the vessel and she shivered at the blow. Some
of the hands were thrown on the deck and narrowly escaped being washed
overboard.
“By George, Mr. Dunton!” cried Hoppy, “that was a bad one! It’s a
wonder to me how that cable stands the strain. Shouldn’t be surprised
if it went under another blow like that last one!”
The same thought was in Dunton’s mind and he could not conceal his
anxiety.
“I suppose you know, Mayo, that we haven’t another anchor fit to hold
her in this weather?”
“By the Lord! you don’t say so? Then it’s a mighty poor show if we lose
this one.”
“Is there no creek or small harbor on this cursed coast where we could
take refuge?”
Hoppy expected the question and he was prepared with an answer. After a
pause he said:
“Well, Mr. Dunton, there’s nothing to leeward that you could call a
harbor, but there’s a small inlet to the south of us and if the cable
snaps our only chance will be to run for it.”
“But how are you to find it in this darkness?”
“It will soon be dawn, Mr. Dunton; in about an hour’s time, I should
say. If we’re lucky enough to hold on till then we may make it. Once
over the outer bar we shall be safe.”
Dunton had to be satisfied with this, though the prospect was a poor
one. He asked Hoppy how they were to moor the schooner in case they
lost the heavy anchor? The pilot told him that there would be smooth
water inside the outer bar and that a light anchor would do.
Sea after sea kept pounding the vessel. As the time was near for
decisive action, Hoppy suggested to Dunton that it would be well to pay
out a few more fathoms of cable.
“It will ease her a bit, Mr. Dunton; I’ll make my way forward and see
that it runs out all right.”
Dunton agreed. Hoppy groped his way to the bow where he crouched
unobserved in the gloom. Dunton gave the order to pay out, but just
then a curious thing happened. Hoppy drew his keen knife from its
sheath and slashed the stout rope in such a manner that he knew it
would soon part. On his way aft he managed to have a few words with
Jackson.
The night was drawing to a close. The first faint streaks of dawn were
appearing and the pilot drew Dunton’s attention to them:
“Day is coming, Mr. Dunton; I think there’s a slight break in the gale.”
And so it seemed. There was a perceptible lessening of the schooner’s
motion and Dunton felt relieved.
Suddenly a shout that the cable had parted arose and for some time the
utmost confusion prevailed. The vessel fell off before the wind which
had shifted a point to the north.
“Our only chance is to run for it, Mr. Dunton,” cried Hoppy. “I think
we had better make for the inlet, though it must be shallow water on
the outer bar now!”
The storm jib was set and the schooner plunged forward, Hoppy at the
wheel. It was now sufficiently clear to distinguish the shore. The
appearance of the sky denoted a change near though the gale was still
strong.
Hoppy held her head in the direction of what he called the inlet. It
could not be much of an inlet, was Dunton’s thought, for as far as
the eye could range along shore there was nothing but a stretch of
surf-beaten beach.
“Not much of a harbor, Mayo?”
“You will see it better in a short time, Mr. Dunton.”
Onward raced the schooner and the sea was surely getting smoother as
she approached the land. When about half a mile from it, Hoppy ran her
right into the wind’s eye and with a shock the little craft stood still.
“What’s that for, Mayo?” demanded Dunton suspiciously.
“It means, Mr. Dunton,” replied Hoppy coolly, “that we are aground on
the outer bar.”
“Then what are we going to do now?”
“We were a bit too late to catch enough water for crossing. We must now
wait for the next tide to enable us to get off.”
“But what’s going to happen meanwhile?”
“The schooner will be all right where she is,” replied the pilot.
“However, I should advise you to send your men below, Mr. Dunton, so
that the people on shore may not get suspicious at seeing such a large
crew.”
As the vessel was stuck fast in the sand there seemed no alternative
but to follow Hoppy’s advice; so, reluctantly, Dunton ordered the men
below. Hoppy caught Jackson’s eye and that worthy winked significantly.
The convivial tar waved his hand in salute as he followed his mates
below. Dunton and his two subordinate officers remained on deck with
the pilot.
The storm was almost over and the British commander cursed his bad luck
in not having been able to hold on to his anchor. Here, he was in a bad
predicament, held fast on the treacherous flats and obliged to wait
for hours until the flood tide floated the schooner. The hated Yankees
ashore would soon discover his plight and, perhaps, muster sufficient
force to seize his vessel, making prisoners of all on board. The gloomy
prospect affected Dunton’s nerves and he longed to vent his spleen on
the pilot, but he had no evidence whatever that the latter had not
acted in good faith.
As the daylight got stronger a few men were observed on the beach.
Hoppy knew that they were the forerunners of the crowd which would soon
be on the scene.
The tide was ebbing fast and the schooner would soon be high and dry
on the flats. Then the pilot must strike the final blow on which he
depended for victory. He was not afraid of the result. There had been
no setback to his plans up to the present and he felt confident that
within the hour Dunton and his men would be prisoners of war.
The schooner, feeling the want of the supporting tide, heeled over.
Dunton on the quarterdeck was dividing his attention between the
increasing crowd on the beach and the movements of the pilot. The
latter seemed to be examining the brass four pounder with great
curiosity. To Dunton it looked as if Hoppy had it in his mind to train
the piece on the beach, but that idea vanished quickly when he saw the
bold Cape Codder deliberately spike the gun!
“Treason, by G----!” he shouted as he made a rush forward. Hoppy gave
the spike a clinching blow and turned on the officer.
“Stand back there, Dunton!” he cried fiercely. “Stand back there! and
keep a civil tongue in your mouth, you d--d swab!”
Hoppy had snatched a boarding pike from the rack and Dunton paused
irresolutely before the weapon.
“Halt!” cried the American.
Dunton faced him. The officer was no coward, but the suddenness of the
whole thing was disconcerting and he was puzzled how to proceed.
“This vessel is American property, Dunton; she now reverts to her
rightful owners!”
Dunton did not reply. He looked at Jenkins and the latter disappeared
into the cabin. Hoppy laughed mockingly as the junior reappeared
looking decidedly crestfallen.
“Your pistols are not in your writing case, sir.”
This was too much for Dunton. His features were distorted with passion
and he hurled a volley of vile language at the American.
“Avast there, you swab!” roared Hoppy; “another man so near death as
you are would be saying his prayers instead of using filthy talk!”
“All hands, ahoy!” screamed Dunton.
“Aye, you may call them, my bold fellow, but they couldn’t hear even
Gabriel’s trumpet now!”
And so it was. Hoppy had told Jackson where to find the cask of rum in
the hold and that gallant seaman had tapped it with a gimlet, inviting
his messmates to partake, which they did with gusto. They were worn
out from the long vigil through the night and copious libations of the
fiery liquor soon stupefied them. They lay like dead men in the hold.
The baffled officer turned on his subordinates, “Where are your
pistols?” he demanded.
“They can’t be found, sir,” answered Jenkins.
Then Hoppy enlightened him. “You need not worry about your pistols,
Dunton; they are in safe keeping. And now, I’m going to be busy for a
few minutes and I want you to be a good boy until I have time to attend
to your troubles.”
Near the mainmast there was a large chest containing arms. It was
locked, but Hoppy smashed it open with an axe and started to throw
the muskets and cutlasses overboard. This made Dunton almost insanely
furious. Calling on his officers to help he rushed at Hoppy who whipped
out a pistol which he leveled at the advancing Englishman.
“Another step and you are a dead man!” he thundered. “And you, Jenkins
and Thomson, stand back! You are decent fellows and I don’t want to
kill you, but, by the Almighty, if you don’t stay quiet, I’ll have you
all three buried in Yankee soil tomorrow!”
The assailants drew back. Hoppy opened his jacket and displayed an
array of pistols stuck in his belt.
“These are your pistols,” said he, “and I may tell you later how I got
them; but, for the present, you must be satisfied to know that they are
all loaded and that makes more than a bullet apiece for you. If you
don’t believe me, watch this!”
He fired and the bullet struck the deck at Dunton’s feet.
“I can afford to waste one shot,” he continued, “but it is the only one
that will be wasted if you don’t keep quiet!”
He then finished the work of throwing the arms into the sea.
“That’s a good job satisfactorily done. Now I have a few words to say,
Dunton, and when you hear them you will know how we stand. You and your
men are my prisoners. The schooner is my prize. I have no desire to
treat you harshly, though you must feel that I owe you nothing in the
way of civility. My people, as you can see, are now in force on the
beach, and when the flats are dry, as they will be in a short time,
I shall deliver you to the proper authorities in Eastham. However, I
want you to know that I have had no help from any of your men in this
business. They obliged me by getting drunk, and you have yourself to
blame for that. If you hadn’t defrauded them of their proper allowance
of grog they might be sober now! Captain Raggett treated me decently
and for his sake I shall see that you have nothing to complain of
ashore. Now you understand?”
“You’re a d----d traitor and you’ll suffer for this when the frigate
returns!” cried Dunton venomously.
“That reminds me, Dunton, of what you said when we had that little
conversation at Provincetown. ‘No back talk from prisoners,’ I think
you remarked? As to being a traitor,” here the American’s eyes flashed
and his tone became hard, “well, that’s according to the way you look
at it. A traitor to what? Why, man, you show your stupidity by saying
so! You thought because I made no fuss about becoming your pilot that
you had me on your side! When I consented, Dunton, it was with the firm
intention that this schooner and all on board should find a resting
place at the bottom of Cape Cod bay if I found no other way out. You
should thank God for the storm; it surely saved your lives! It was a
case of one man against twenty-three and the one man had only his wits
to depend on--but he won! One Yankee licked twenty-three Britishers!
How will that news be received on the ‘Spencer,’ Dunton? There, I
have said enough for the present and I’m not going to gloat over your
defeat.”
There was no answer from the beaten and humiliated Dunton.