MORE POWDER.
"Captain Watts, I must say it. I don't a bit like this tryin' to run
in without a convoy."
"Nor I either, mate," said the captain, with an upward glance at the
rigging and a side squint across the sea. "'Tisn't any fault o' mine.
I protested."
"I heard ye," replied the mate. "They only laughed at us. They said
the king's cruisers'd swep' these waters as clean as the Channel. Glad
ye know 'em."
"Know 'em?" laughed Captain Watts. "I'm a Massachusetts man. I know
'em like a book. Don't need any pilot."
"How 'bout Hell Gate, when we get there? We've lost a ship or two--"
"Brackett, man," interrupted the skipper, more seriously, "that's a
long reach ahead, yet. I know Hell Gate channel when we get there.
Our risks'll be in the sound. The rebels haven't any reg'lar cruisers.
What we've to look out for is the Long Island whaleboat men. Tough
customers. They say nigh half on 'em are redskins,--Indian scalpers."
"Well! As to them," said the mate, "we can beat 'em off. Our
four-pounder popguns'd be good against whaleboats but not for anything
bigger."
"Six on 'em," said Captain Watts. "We can handle 'em, too."
"I'd rather 'twas a frigate," said the mate. "Our crew's none too
strong, and half of 'em are 'pressed men. No fight in 'em."
"Oh, yes, they'll have to fight," was responded. "Fight or hang,
perhaps. I hate a 'pressed man. Anyhow, it'll take a better wind than
this to show us Hell Gate channel before day after to-morrow. We'll be
tackin' about in the sound, to-night."
"It's a'most a calm! Bitter cold, too."
He was a very intelligent looking British sailor, that first mate of
the _Windsor_. She was a bark-rigged vessel of possibly six hundred
tons, and she was freighted heavily with military and other supplies
for the king's forces at New York.
Somehow or other, the discontented mate could not say why or how, the
_Windsor_ had become separated from her convoy and consorts. These
were seeking their harbor by way of Sandy Hook, while she had been sent
through Long Island Sound. She was hardly in it yet, although it may
be a wide water question as to precisely at what line the sound begins.
Not a sail of any kind larger than a fisherman's shallop was in sight.
There was solid comfort to be had in the knowledge that the Americans
had no navy, and that all these waters were regularly patrolled by
English armed vessels. It looked as if there could be no good cause
for anxiety, and Mate Brackett was compelled to accept the situation.
He turned away, and the captain himself went below, hopefully
remarking:--
"Cold weather's nothin'. There'll be more wind, by and by. We'll be
ready to take it when it comes."
"He's a prime seaman. No doubt o' that," said the mate, looking after
him. "He's pilot enough, too, and our bein' here's no fault o' his.
We'll be ready for any rebel boats, though. I'll cast loose the guns,
such as they are, and I'll get up powder and ball. Grapeshot'd be the
thing for boats. Sweep 'em at short range. This 'ere craft's goin' to
reach port, if we fight our way in!"
He was showing pretty good judgment and plenty of courage. His six
guns, three on a side, looked serviceable. The crew appeared to be
numerous enough to handle so few pieces as that, whatever their other
deficiencies might be. Part of them, indeed were first-rate British
tars, the best fighters in the world. As for Captain Watts, he was
understood to be an American Tory of the strongest kind, to be depended
upon even more than if he had been a Hull man or a Londoner. No set of
men, anywhere, ever showed more self-sacrificing devotion to their
political principles than did the loyalists, or royalists, of America
in their long, fruitless struggle with what they deemed treason and
rebellion.
It is possible that Mate Brackett might have studied his cannon and
their capacities even more carefully than he did, if at that morning
hour he could have been for a few minutes one of a little group upon
the deck of a craft that was at anchor in New London harbor.
The tonnage of this vessel was much less than that of the _Windsor_,
but she was sharper in the nose, cleaner in the run, trimmer,
handsomer. She was schooner-rigged, with tall, tapering, raking masts
that promised for her an ample spread of canvas. She was, in short,
one of the new type of vessels for which the American shipyards were
already becoming distinguished. She had been built for the
whale-fishery, and that meant, to the understanding of Yankee sailors,
that she was to have speed enough to race a school of runaway whales,
strength to stand the squeeze of an icefloe, the bump of an iceberg, or
the blast and billows of a hurricane. She must also have fair stowage
room between decks and in her hold for many casks of oil.
"Up-na-tan like long guns," said one of the voices on the deck of the
_Noank_. "Now! Coco swing him. No man help. One man swing. All
'tan back. Brack man try."
He was asking a practical question as an experienced gunner. It was
necessary to know whether or not the pivoting of that long, brass
eighteen-pounder had been perfectly done for freedom of movement. In
action there would be men enough to handle it, but even the work of
many hands should not be impeded by overtight fittings and needless
frictions.
"Ugh! Good!" he exclaimed, as his black comrade turned the gun back
and forth, and then he tried it himself.
"Captain Avery, that's so, he can do it," remarked Guert Ten Eyck,
thoughtfully, "but those two are made of iron and hickory. It isn't
every fellow can do what they can."
"No, I guess not," laughed Captain Avery.
"I'm glad the old Buccaneers are pleased, though. There goes the
redskin to the other guns. He can't find any fault with 'em. Not one
of 'em's a short nose."
Three on a side, polished to glittering, the long brass sixes slept
upon their perfectly fitted carriages. Every one of them bore the mark
of the _fleur de lis_, for they were of a pattern which the French
royal foundries were turning out for the light cruisers of King Louis.
Such of them as were already mounted in that manner were lazily waiting
for a formal declaration of war with England. These here, however, and
others like them, were already carrying on that very war. Before a
great while, the entire French navy was to become auxiliary to that of
the United States, and considerable French land forces were to march to
victory shoulder to shoulder with the Continentals under General
Washington.
The sailor comrades of Up-na-tan and Coco were evidently well aware
that the savage-looking couple had seen much sea service upon armed
vessels. The less said about it the better, perhaps, but some of it
had been upon British cruisers, in whatever manner it had been escaped
from. Some of it had been, it was said, under a very different
fighting flag. Their inspection of the broadside guns was therefore
watched with interest.
"Long!" said Up-na-tan. "Good. Shoot bullet far. Not big enough.
Want nine-pounder. Old chief like big gun. Knock hole in ship. Sink
her quick."
"Take out cargo first," muttered Coco.
"Then sink ship. Not lose cargo."
"Jest so!" exclaimed Captain Avery. "That's what we'll do! Chief, I
believe the frame of the _Noank_ is strong enough to carry a long
thirty-two and six eighteens."
"No!" replied the Indian, firmly. "Too much big gun 'poil schooner.
No run fast any more."
According to the red man's judgment, therefore, the Yankee skipper's
enthusiasm might lead him to overload his swift vessel or make her
topheavy in a sea. It was likely that things were just as well as they
were. At all events, her brilliant armament and her disciplined
ordering gave her an exceedingly efficient and warlike air as she rode
there waiting her sailing orders.
"Sam Prentice's boat!" suddenly called out a voice, aft. "Father, he's
headed for us. Here he comes, rowing hard!"
"_Noank_ ahoy!" came across the water, from as far away as a pair of
strong lungs could send it. "I say! Is Lyme Avery aboard?"
"Every man's aboard! All ready! What news?" went back through the
speaking trumpet in the hands of Vine Avery, at the stern.
"Tell him to h'ist anchor! British ship sighted away east'ard! Not a
man-o'-war. 'Rouse him!"
"All hands up anchor!" roared Captain Avery. "Run in the guns! Close
the ports! Gear that pivot-gun fast! Up-na-tan, that's your work."
"Ugh!" said the Indian. "Shoot pretty soon."
Vine and Sam Prentice were exchanging messages rapidly as the rowboat
came nearer. All on board could hear, and now the trumpeter turned to
note the eager, fierce activity of the old Manhattan.
"It does you good, doesn't it," he said. "You're dyin' for a chance to
try your Frenchers."
"Ugh!" grunted the chief, patting the pivot-gun affectionately. "Sink
ship for ole King George. Kill plenty lobster! Kill all captain!
Whoo-oo-oop!"
His hand was at his mouth, and the screech he sent forth was the
warwhoop of his vanished tribe,--if any ears of white men can
distinguish between one warwhoop and another. That he had been a
sailor, however, was not at all remarkable. All of the New England
coast Indians and the many small clans of Long Island had been from
time immemorial termed "fish Indians" by their inland red cousins. The
island clans were also known as "little bush" Indians. All that now
remained of them took to the sea as their natural inheritance, and
their best men were in good demand for their exceptional skill as
harpooners.
The anchor of the _Noank_ was beginning to come up when the boat of Sam
Prentice reached the side.
"Did you sight her yourself, Sam?" asked Captain Avery.
"Well, I did," said Sam. "I was out more scoutin' than fishin', and I
had a good glass. She's a bark, heavy laden. It's a light wind for
anything o' her rig. She can't git away from our nippers. I didn't
lose time gettin' any nigher. I came right in."
"On board with you," said the captain. "It's 'bout time the _Noank_
took somethin'. We've been cooped up in New London harbor long enough."
"That's so!" said Sam Prentice, as he scrambled over the bulwark. "I'm
hungry for a fight myself."
He was a wiry, sailorlike man, of middle age, with merry, black eyes
which yet had a steely flash in them. Up came the anchor. Out swung
the booms. The light wind was just the thing for the _Noank's_ rig,
and every sail she could spread went swiftly to its place. She was a
beauty when all her canvas was showing. A numerous and growing crowd
was gathered at the piers and wharves, for Sam Prentice's news had
reached the shore also. Cheer after cheer went up as the sails began
to fill.
"Anneke Ten Eyck!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery. "I'm so glad Lyme was all
ready. He didn't have to wait a minute after Sam got there."
"I'm glad Guert's with him," said Mrs. Ten Eyck. "If he wants to be a
sea-captain, I won't hinder him."
"God be with them all!" was the loud and earnest response of Rachel
Tarns. "I trust that they may do their whole duty by the ships of the
man George, who calleth himself our king."
"Lyme Avery's jest the man to 'tend to that," called out a deep, hoarse
voice, farther along the pier. "He was 'pressed, once, by George's
men, and he means to make 'em pay for his lost time."
"So was my son, Vine," said Mrs. Avery. "He has something more'n lost
time to make 'em account for."
"Nearly forty New London boys were 'pressed, first and last," said a
sad-faced old woman. "One of mine fell at Brooklyn and one's in the
Jersey prison-ship. It's the king's work."
"We're sorry for you, Mrs. Williams," said another woman. "I don't
know where mine are. We can't get any word from our 'pressed boys.
God pity 'em!--God in heaven send success to the _Noank_ and Lyme
Avery! To our sailors on the sea and our soldiers on the land!"
"Amen!" went up from several earnest voices, and then there was another
round of hearty cheers.
Away down the broad harbor the gallant schooner was speeding, with
Guert Ten Eyck astride of her bowsprit. Up-na-tan and Coco were
crouching like a pair of tigers at the side of the pivot guns. The
crew was both numerous and well selected, for it consisted of the pick
of the New London whaling veterans. The majority of them, of course,
were middle aged or even elderly, so many of the younger men had
marched away with Putnam or were at this time garrisoning the forts of
the harbor.
There was to be no long and tiresome waiting. Hardly was the _Noank_
well out beyond the point at the harbor mouth before Sam Prentice, from
his perch aloft, called down to his friends on the deck:--
"I've sighted her! She's made too long a tack this way for her good.
We'll git out well to wind'ard of her. She's sure game!"
Every seaman on board understood just what that meant, and he was
answered by a storm of cheers. Nevertheless, the face of Captain Avery
was serious, for he had no means of knowing what might really be the
strength and armament of the stranger.
As for her, she had all sail set, and her skipper was at the helm,
while Mate Brackett was in the maintop taking anxious observations.
"Sail to wind'ard," he said to himself. "Hope there's no mischief in
her. Anyhow, I'll go down and have Captain Watts send the men to
quarters."
Down he went and reported, and Captain Watts responded vigorously.
"Most likely a coaster," he said, "but we won't take any chances. Call
the men. Any but a pretty strong rebel 'll sheer away if she finds
we're ready for her. We'll shoot first, Brackett. I'm a fightin'
man--I am!"
"All right, sir," said Brackett, more cheerily. "I've served on a
cruiser. Men! All hands clear away for action! Cast loose the guns!"
He was in right good earnest, like the brave British seaman that he
was, and the supply ship, in spite of having too much deck cargo, soon
began to take on a decidedly warlike appearance. There was no audible
grumbling among her crew as they went to their posts of duty, but a
sharp observer might have noted that several of them, from time to
time, cast wistful glances landward and then looked gloomily into each
others' faces.
"No hope!" muttered one of them.
"They are hanging deserters," hissed another. "I saw one run up."
"I saw one flogged to death," came savagely from a third, "but I'll
take my chance if I git one."
Mate Brackett was now busy with his glass, and he was telling himself
how much he longed for a stronger breeze, coming from some other point
of the compass.
"Hurrah!" he suddenly sang out. "Captain Watts, we're all right, now!
British flag!"
"Keep to your guns!" roared back the captain. "I'll stand away from
her, just the same. If you throw away the _Windsor_ I'll have you
hung!"
More fiercely vehement than ever became now his apparent readiness for
fighting. He called another man to the wheel and went out among the
guns. He ordered up more muskets, pistols, pikes, cutlasses, and armed
himself to the teeth, as if to repel boarders.
"They'd call me a Tory," he said to the mate. "They shoot Tories. I'm
fighting for my life, if that there sail is a Yankee. Her flag's as
like as not a trick to keep us from getting ready."
"We'll be ready," replied the mate; but all the men had heard the
remark of Captain Watts concerning his chances.
Nearer and nearer, before the somewhat freshening breeze, came the
strange schooner, with the merchant flag of Great Britain fluttering
out to declare how peaceable and friendly was her character. Mate
Brackett's glass could as yet discover no sign of evil, unless' it
might be that a widespread old sail which he saw on the deck amidships
had been put there to cover up the wrong kind of deck cargo.
"She hasn't any business that I know of to head for us," he said to his
commander, suspiciously. "We must be ready to give her a broadside."
"Luff!" instantly sang out Captain Watts to the man at the helm. "They
can't fool me! Brackett, no nonsense, now! Bring the larboard guns to
bear! I'll hail her! Ship ahoy! What schooner's that?"
His hail was given through his trumpet, and no answer came during a
full half minute, while the schooner sped nearer. Then suddenly a
storm of exclamations arose from the men, and Brackett groaned aloud.
"Just what old Watts was afraid of!" he exclaimed. "He's a gone man!
So are all of us! The rebel flag! Guns!"
The _Noank_ was indeed flying the stars and stripes now, instead of the
red-cross flag of England. The old sail amidships had been jerked
away, and there stood Up-na-tan, with one hand upon the breech of his
long eighteen and the other holding a lighted lanyard ready to touch
her off. Open at the same moment went the three starboard ports, and
out ran the noses of the dangerous six-pounders.
"Heave to, or I'll sink ye!" came fiercely down the wind. "Surrender,
or I'll send ye to the bottom!"
"It's no use, Captain Watts," said Brackett, dolefully; "she carries
too many guns for us. We may as well give up."
"Men!" shouted the captain, "what do you say? Are you with me? Shall
we fight it out? I'm ready!"
"Not a man of us, captain," sturdily responded one of the crew. "This
'ere isn't nothin' but a supply ship. We ain't bound as if 'twas a
man-o'-war. No use, either."
"Brackett," said Watts, "you may haul down the flag, then. I won't. I
call you all to witness that I've done my duty! Mate, the rebels won't
shoot you. Report me dead to Captain Milliard of the _Cleopatra_. He
ordered me to run in through the sound against my will."
"I'll give a good report of you," hurriedly responded the mate, while
other and not unwilling hands hauled down the flag; "but that long
eighteen alone would be too much for our popguns."
The two ships were now near enough for grappling, and in a few minutes
more they were side by side upon the quiet sea.
"I surrender to you, sir," said Captain Watts to Captain Avery, as the
latter sprang on board, followed by a swarm of brawny whalemen. "I
claim good treatment for my men, whatever you may do to me."
"I know you, sir," said Avery, sternly. "You are Watts, the Marblehead
Tory. Step aft with me. There's an account to settle with you. Sam
Prentice, look out for the prisoners. Vine, get ready to cast off and
head for New London. Send 'em all below--"
"All but some of 'em," said Sam, with a broad grin. "Men! Every
'pressed American step out!"
No less than nine of the _Windsor's_ crew obeyed that order, while all
the rest sullenly surrendered their useless weapons to Coco and Guert
Ten Eyck and a couple of sailors who were ordered to receive them.
Not on deck, fore or aft, but down in the cabin did the skipper of the
captured supply ship give his account of himself and his cargo. Hardly
was the cabin door shut behind them before Captain Avery laughed aloud,
inquiring:--
"Now, Luke Watts, how did ye make it out! They'll hang ye, yet."
[Illustration: THE MARBLEHEAD TORY. "'Now, Luke Watts! they'll hang ye
yet,' said Captain Avery."]
"No, they won't," said Watts. "I've taken across ship after ship for
'em. I'm a known Tory, ye know. Worst kind. I promised jest sech
another good Tory, in London, though, that I'd try and deliver this
cargo to the blasted rebels. It's mostly guns, and ammunition, and
clothing. I managed to git written orders from Captain Milliard,
commandin' our convoy, to run through the Sound, contrary to my advice.
You see, he's an opinionated man. I got him swearin' mad, and I had to
obey, ye know. It has turned out jest as I warned him it would, and he
can't say a word."
"You're a razor!" laughed Avery. "Then you tacked right over within
easy reach of us, all reg'lar. Now! What are we to do with the crew?
We don't want 'em on shore."
"Well!" said Watts. "The 'pressed men'll jine ye, all of 'em. They
hate me like p'ison, for I da'sn't let 'em have a smell of how it
really is. Take good care of Brackett, anyhow. He's a prime seaman.
He saved one of our fellows from a floggin', once. All the rest o' the
crew deserve somethin' better'n prison."
"Prison?" said Avery. "They're not prisoners of war. I don't want
'em, even if they are. I wouldn't hurt a hair o' their heads. I'm no
butcher."
"Come on deck, then," said Watts, "and be kerful how you talk anythin'
but rough to me."
Up they went, to find both vessels sailing steadily away toward the
mouth of the harbor. Already they were so near that a booming cannon
from Fort Griswold informed that the _Noank's_ success was joyfully
understood on shore.
The crew of the _Windsor_ were now summoned up from their temporary
confinement in the hold, and were ordered to get out their own longboat
ready for launching. They were told that all British tars were to go
free and to make the best of their way to New York or to the first
British ship they might meet. The impressed Americans listened in
silence, for every man of them knew that in case of his escape, even in
this manner, there would be thenceforth a possible rope around his
neck. Whether impressed or not, he was considered bound to stick to
the British flag, come what might.
"Captain Watts," said the commander of the _Noank_, "do you demand
these men? They are Americans."
"I do demand them," replied Watts. "You have no right to keep them,
and they'll all be hung as deserters."
"They can't help themselves," said Captain Avery, furiously. "Sam
Prentice, iron every one o' those 'pressed men and put 'em all down in
the hold. If they try to git away, shoot 'em. I'll put 'em ashore or
kill 'em. You can't have 'em, Watts."
"That saves 'em," whispered Watts to himself. "He's another razor. I
can report jist how they were took."
At all events, not one of the nine Americans made any resistance which
called for shooting him.
"Now, Luke Watts," said the angry American privateer captain, "it's
your turn. You are taken in arms against your country. Sam Prentice,
Levi Hotchkiss, Vine Avery, speak out! Shall we hang Luke Watts? Or
shall we shoot him? Or shall we let him go?"
"We can't safely let him go," began Sam. "He's a dangerous traitor."
"I protest!" interrupted Mate Brackett, courageously. "He has only
done his duty to his king. He wasn't even serving on a ship of war.
You haven't any right to hang him."
"You're an Englishman," said Avery. "I didn't ask you. Shut your
mouth!"
"I won't!" said Brackett; "not if you shoot me. If you hang Captain
Watts, we'll hang a dozen Yankees. We've plenty of 'em, too. It'll be
blood for blood!"
"Father," said Vine, "let him go. All the men'd say so."
Behind him at that moment stood Up-na-tan, grinning ferociously, with
his glittering long knife out.
"So! So! Up-na-tan!" he snarled. "Take 'calp! No let him go. Knife
good! Kill!"
None of the others were doing anything theatrical except the two
captains, and all the while the longboat was hurriedly made ready for
the short and entirely safe, but probably cold, uncomfortable voyage
before them.
"Captain Luke Watts," said his captor, sternly, "I suppose I must let
you go. Don't let me ever ketch ye again, though. It's time for us to
hang Tories. Brackett, you and your men lower that boat and git into
her, short order. Luke Watts can pilot you in. Start along, now.
Every man may take his own kit."
"Come on, Captain Watts," said the hearty British sailor. "Your
shave's been a narrer one. I thought you was bound for the yardarm,
this time."
"I owe you something," replied Watts. "I'll stand by ye, any day."
The queer piece of very good unprofessional acting was played to its
ending. The longboat was lowered, the men got into her, with
provisions for two days, and away she went, her own sail careening her
as if it were in haste to get from under the brazen muzzles of the
_Noank's_ French guns.
"It's awful to be a traitor," remarked Sam Prentice, gravely. "Who'd
ha' thought it of a Marblehead man!"
"Sam!" said Lyme Avery, and the rest of his remark consisted of his
right eye tightly shut and his left eye very wide open.
"Ugh! Good!" chuckled Up-na-tan, and Guert Ten Eyck laughed aloud.
Not for one moment had the subtle, keen-eyed red man been deceived, and
Guert had caught the truth of it all from him.
"Not a word, Guert," said Captain Avery. "He may be able to do it
again."
"Didn't fool ole brack man," said Coco. "S'pose he 'tone bline? Wen
King George 'ply ship tack right for New London, then it's 'cause he
was 'tendin' to go right there."
"No talk," said Up-na-tan. "Ole chief like Watt. He bring plenty
powder for _Noank_ gun. Fort gun, too. Now schooner go to sea. Good!"
The impressed men were freed of their manacles as soon as the longboat
was well away. They could be cheerful enough now, for the prudent
management of Lyme Avery had made their necks safe, unless they should
be taken by the British from an American armed ship.
Up the broad, beautiful harbor the _Noank_ and her prize sailed
merrily, while guns from the fort batteries saluted her and crowds of
patriotic New Londoners swarmed upon the piers and wharves to do full
honor to so really important a success. At one pier head were gathered
all the members ashore of the Avery household.
"There he comes!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery; "Lyme's in that boat; Guert and
Vine are with him. Neither of them were hurt."
"I hope there wasn't much fighting," said Guert's mother. "I do so
hate to have men killed."
"Anneke Ten Eyck," said Rachel Tarns, "thy wicked son hath once more
aided the rebels in stealing a ship from thy good king. Thee has not
brought him up well. He needeth instruction or he will become as bad
as is the man George Washington himself, God bless him!"