THE NEWS FROM TRENTON.
"What is it, Sam?"
"I guess, Lyme, we'd better hold on a bit. The fort lookout sends word
that a British cruiser's in sight, off the harbor."
Sam Prentice was in a rowboat, just reaching the side of the _Noank_,
and his commander was leaning over the rail.
"I'd like to send a shot at her," he said. "None o' those ten-gun
brigs, if it's one o' them, carry long guns or heavy ones."
"Can't say," replied Sam. "Maybe it's a bigger feller. He won't dare
to run in under the battery guns, anyhow. He can't look into the
harbor."
"I wish he would," laughed the captain. "If he's goin' to try a game
of tackin' off and on, and watchin', though, we must make out to run
past him in the night."
"We mustn't be stuck any longer here," said Sam. "Are all the crew
aboard?"
"All but you," was the reply. "Send your boat ashore. We'll find out
what she is. I won't let any single cruiser keep me cooped up in port,
now my powder and shot's found for me. We'll up anchor, Sam."
The first mate of the _Noank_, for such he was to be, came over the
rail, and his boat was pulled shoreward.
"Isn't she fine!" he said, as he glanced admiringly around him. "We're
in good fightin' order, Lyme."
"Sam," said the captain, "just study those timbers, will ye. Only
heavy shot'd do any great harm to our bulwarks. I had her built the
very strongest kind. Now! Some o' the new British craft are said to
be light timbered, even for rough weather. Their own sailors hate 'em,
and we can take their judgment of 'em."
"It's likely to be good," said Sam. "What a British able seaman
doesn't know 'bout his own ship, isn't worth knowin'."
Further talk indicated that they both held high opinions of the
mariners of England. Against them, as individuals, the war had not
aroused any ill feeling. There was, indeed, among intelligent
Americans, a very general perception that King George's war against his
transatlantic subjects was anything but popular with the great mass of
the overtaxed English people. It was a pity, a great pity, that
stupid, bad management and recklessly tyrannical statesmanship, in a
sort of combination with needless military severities, had done so much
to foster hatred and provoke revenge. It was true, too, although all
Americans did not know or did not appreciate it, that their side of the
controversy had been ably set forth in the Parliament of Great Britain
by prominent and patriotic Englishmen, such as Chatham and Colonel
Barre.
The old whaler _Noank_, of New London, however, had now become an
American war vessel. Her crew and her commander were compelled,
henceforth, to regard as enemies the captains and the crews of all
vessels, armed or unarmed, carrying the red-cross flag instead of the
stars and stripes.
"I tell you what, Sam," remarked Captain Avery, at last, "I wish we had
news from New York and from Washington's army. The latest we heard of
him and the boys made things look awfully dark."
"Don't let yourself git too down in the mouth!" replied Sam. "I guess
the sun'll shine ag'in, Sunday. It's a long lane that has no turnin'.
Washington's an old Indian fighter. He's likely to turn on 'em, sudden
and unexpected, like a redskin on a trail that's been followed too
closely."
"It won't do to go after a Mohawk too far into the woods, sometimes,"
growled Avery. "Not onless you're willin' to risk a shot from a bush.
Now, do you know, I wish I knew, too, what's been the dealin' of the
British admirals with Luke Watts, for losin' the _Windsor_. We owe
that man a good deal,--we do!"
"They won't hurt him," said Sam. "It wasn't any fault o' his'n."
In some such manner, all over the country, men and women were
comforting themselves, under the shadow of death which seemed to have
settled down over the cause of American independence. They knew that
the Continental army was shattered. It was destitute, freezing,
starving, and it was said to be dwindling away.
Somewhere, however, among the ragged tents and miserable huts of its
winter quarters, was a man who had shown himself so superior to other
men that in him there was still a hope. From him something unexpected
and startling might come at any hour.
As for Luke Watts, formerly the skipper of the British supply ship
_Windsor_, now a prize in New London harbor, Captain Avery and his mate
spoke again of him and of the difficulties into which he might have
fallen. Possibly it would have done them good to have been near enough
to see and hear him at that very hour of the day.
A good longboat, with a strong crew anxious to make time and get into a
warmer place, had had only a short run of it from New London to New
York. Here was Luke, therefore, in the cabin of a British
seventy-four, standing before a gloomy-faced party of naval officers.
With him were his mate, Brackett, and several of the sailors of the
_Windsor_. It was evident that her loss had been inquired into, and
that all the testimonies had been given. If this was to be considered
as a kind of naval court martial, it was as ready as it ever would be
to declare its verdict.
"Gentlemen," said the burly post-captain who appeared to be the ranking
officer, "it's a bad affair! We needed that ammunition. Even the land
forces are running so short that movements are hindered. If, however,
we are to find fault with any man, we must censure the captain of the
_Cleopatra_. This man Watts is proved to have gone into the Sound
against his will and protest. I am glad that the rebels did not hang
him. His recorded judgment of the danger to be encountered was
entirely correct. Watts, I shall want you to pilot home one of our
empty troop-ships."
"I know her, sir," replied Luke, promptly. "I beg to say no, sir. Not
unless she has twice the ballast that's in her now. I'd like
permission to say a word more, sir."
"Speak out! What is it?"
"A ten-gun brig in the Sound can't catch that New London pirate--"
"The _Boxer_ is cruising around that station," interrupted the captain.
"She's a clipper to go."
"No use," said Luke, shaking his head. "The old whaler'll get away."
"What would you do, then?" roughly demanded another officer.
"A strong corvette, or two of 'em, off Point Judith and Montauk, to
catch her as she runs out," said Luke. "She'll fight any small vessel.
She carries a splendid pivot-gun, and she has six long sixes. She will
be handled by prime seamen."
"Gentlemen," remarked the captain, "I agree with him. We have found
the advice of this man Watts to be correct in every case. I believe he
is right, now. We must do as he says or that pirate, perhaps others
with her, will escape us. I will put him in charge of the _Termagant_.
I'll feel safer about her, if she is sailed home by a man with a rebel
rope around his neck."
There was a general expression of assent, and then Watts spoke again.
"I want Brackett, if I can have him," he said. "I never had a better
mate. There's fight in him, too."
"You may have him," he was told, and several of the officers present
expressed their great regret that so many impressed American seamen had
been ironed by Captain Avery and compelled to escape from a return to
man-of-war duty. They ought never to have been detailed, it was
asserted.
"We can't hang 'em for desertion," they said, half jocularly. "All we
could do, if we caught them, would be to set them at work again."
Nevertheless, four of these escaped men were now voluntarily among the
crew of the _Noank_. The remaining five had preferred to make the best
of their ways to their several homes. Not one of them all had chosen
to seek the friendly shelter of the British navy, so near and so ready
to receive them.
Luke Watts and his friends were dismissed and went on deck. Shortly
afterward, their own longboat carried them to the _Termagant_
troop-ship, and the first words uttered by the Marblehead skipper after
reaching her, were duly reported to his superiors.
"Men!" he had exclaimed, as he glanced around him. "This thing isn't
fit to go to sea. She's been handled by lubbers. We've work before
us, if we don't want to go to the bottom or be overhauled by the
_Yankees_. Jest look at her spars and riggin'!"
All things were working together, therefore, to strengthen the
confidence reposed in him, in spite of the curious fact that he had
skilfully delivered the _Windsor_ and her cargo in New London instead
of in New York.
"We had a narrer escape not many miles beyond Hell Gate," he had
reported. "One o' those Long Island buccaneer whaleboats chased us
more 'n an hour. They gave it up then, and we got through. 'Twas a
close shave. Half on 'em are Montauk and Shinnecock redskins. Reg'lar
scalpers."
He had told the truth, as he had appeared to do at every point of the
account which he had given of himself, and now the very men who had
captured him and let him go, neglecting to hang him, were about to
learn why that Long Island whaleboat had not followed him any farther.
There had been plenty of time for such a boat to get away, a long
distance.
The lookout on the rampart of Fort Griswold, the same keen-eyed watcher
who had sent warning to the _Noank_ of the danger in the offing, was
busy with his telescope.
"The cruiser's a brig!" he sang out. "I can make her out, now. She's
one o' the new patterns. She's chasin' a whaleboat. I wish she'd
roller it onto one o' them there ledges. She's firin'. It's long
range, but it looks kind o' bad for the Long Islanders. There ain't
any of our boats out, to-day. It's from t'other shore."
He was watching, now, with intense excitement. There is hardly
anything else so interesting as a chase at sea with cannonading in it.
All this time, however, Captain Lyme Avery had been growing feverish.
He knew nothing of Luke Watts, nothing at all of the Long Island
whaleboat and her pursuer, but he shouted to the men at the capstan:--
"Heave away, boys! I'm goin' to have a look at that there Britisher.
We won't run any fool risks but we'll find out what she is, anyhow."
Hearty cheers answered him and a loud war-whoop from Up-na-tan, for
every man on board had long since become sick of harbor inactivity.
They were also all the more ready for a brush with the enemy after
having brought in so fine a prize on their first venture, and they now
had plenty of powder and shot to fire away.
Only the mainsail swung out after the anchor was raised, but a fair
wind was blowing and the _Noank_ went swiftly seaward with the tide in
her favor.
"Hark!" said Sam Prentice; "guns again! Something's up, Up-na-tan!
Oh, you and Coco are at your pivot-gun! Free her! Have her all ready.
She's the only piece on board that's likely to be of any use."
"Let 'em alone!" called out Captain Avery. "They know what they're
about. They're old gunners. I don't care so much, jest now, 'bout how
they got their trainin'. See 'em!"
They were not by any means a handsome pair at any time, and they were
several shades uglier than usual. The Ashantee was grinning
frightfully, and the teeth he showed must have been filed to obtain so
sharklike a pointing. The red man was not grinning, but all the
wrinkles in his face seemed to grow deeper and his complexion darker.
He was charging his guns with solemnly scrupulous care.
"No miss!" he said. "Up-na-tan find out what big gun good for."
His first charge was going in, therefore, for a purpose of practical
inquiry into the character of the long eighteen. The foundries of that
day could not manufacture large weapons with mathematical precision.
Hardly any two could be said to be exactly alike, except in appearance.
It followed that each gun had good or bad features of its own. From
ship to ship, throughout the royal navy, the gunners published the
qualities of their brazen or iron favorites, and there were cannon of
celebrity which old salts would go far to see.
The sound of the British firing came up somewhat dulled against the
wind. It was not until they were out of the harbor that the sailors of
the _Noank_ discovered how really near were both friends and foes. The
latter were still outside of the range of any of the fort guns. Hardly
more than a mile and a half nearer was the whaleboat from Long Island.
It could be seen that it was full of men, and they were showing
splendid pluck, for they were rowing steadily, while every now and then
a shot from the brig dropped dangerously near them. One iron bullet,
hitting fairly, might knock their frail though swift craft all to
pieces. Up went sail after sail upon the _Noank_, as she speeded
along, and an officer on the British cruiser's deck had good reason for
the astonishment with which he called out:--
"There she comes! You don't mean to say she's coming out to fight us?"
"It looks like it," responded another officer near him. "We can make
match-wood of her if we can get close enough. I wish I knew what her
armament is. These Yankees have more impudence!"
He did not have to wait many minutes before he learned something. The
_Noank_ whirled away upon the starboard tack around the point, and,
just as she steadied herself upon her new course, out roared her
pivot-gun.
Up-na-tan stood erect as soon as he touched off his piece, and he
anxiously watched for the results.
"Ugh! whoop!" he shouted triumphantly. "Gun good! Shoot straight!
Hit 'em!"
"Right!" said Captain Avery, who had been watching through a glass.
"If the old pirate didn't land that shot on her! It's pretty long
range, too."
"Load quick, now!" said the Indian. "Ole chief hit her again!"
His assistants were already feverishly busy with their loading, while
he stood and proudly patted his cannon, very much as if it deserved
praise and could appreciate his approval.
Loud were the exclamations of surprise and wrath on board the _Boxer_.
No one had been killed or wounded, but the brig's longboat had been
stove to bits, and all the pigs and chickens which had been cooped in
it for the time being, and there were many of them, were running
frantically about the main deck. That is, all but one large, fat pig,
for he had suddenly been made pork of, and he would run and squeal no
more.
The telescopes at the fort had also been taking observations, and loud
cheers from the gathered garrison honored the crack shot of Up-na-tan.
The crew of the _Noank_ cheered lustily, and so did the rowers of the
whaleboat. One of the fort batteries tried its guns a moment later,
but all its shots fell short. Nevertheless, it was only a little
short, and it warned the captain of the _Boxer_. He knew, now, about
how much nearer it would be wise for him to run. Up-na-tan's next shot
was well enough aimed, but it did no mischief. It went over the brig,
with an unpleasant suggestion of what damage that sort of thing might
do to spars and rigging.
"Luff! luff!" sang out the captain. "'Tisn't worth while to chase that
boat any farther in. Let's see if we can't draw out the schooner. I'd
like to get her away from those land batteries. They're too heavy
metal for us."
"She has the wind of us," remarked his sailing master, doubtfully.
"She can do as she pleases 'bout coming any too near."
"She's a clipper, anyhow," growled the captain. "Nothing can beat
these New Englanders in handling canvas. The king needs every man of
'em."
His own sailors were just then more than a little busied with pig and
poultry gathering, and one badly scared bird rashly flew overboard.
Captain Avery was to disappoint Up-na-tan and Coco. They were to have
no more long-range practice with the eighteen-pounder.
One more shot that they sent was an unsatisfactory miss, and then the
distance began to increase instead of diminishing, as the schooner went
about.
"Our fellows are safe now," said Sam Prentice. "Here they come. Look
at 'em! More Indians than white men."
None the less were they excellent oarsmen and daring freebooters, and
before the end of the war the "whaleboat fleet," as it came to be
called, was to earn a not altogether pleasant reputation.
Not many more minutes passed before the boat was near enough for a
hail. In it, forward, stood up a tall white man, balancing himself and
swinging his hat while he enthusiastically sent to the _Noank_:--
"Schooner ahoy! Hurrah! News from the Continental army! Gineral
Washington smashed the redcoats! Beat 'em on Christmas day at Trenton!
Then he follered 'em up and knocked Cornwallis all to flinders at
Princeton! We're a-beginnin' to flail 'em! Hurrah!"
Wild was the cheering which answered him from the schooner. Some of
the men began to dance, and Sam Prentice yelled:--
"Shake hands, Lyme Avery! I jest knew it'd come! I said so! We're
goin' to flail 'em! Our turn's got here!"
Up-na-tan expressed his feelings in whoop after whoop, and Coco's yell
was terrific.
"Won't the shore people jump?" said Guert Ten Eyck. "Oh! How I want
to get in and tell mother!"
The news-bringer had described the Trenton victory fairly, but he had
somewhat exaggerated the results of the severe fight at Princeton.
Lord Cornwallis had not reported it in precisely that manner. The boat
was now running along with the _Noank_, however, and the story of
Washington's splendid work for liberty was fired into the schooner at
short range, wadding and all. A pretty interesting conclusion for it
was the account of the manner in which the news had been obtained in
New York and carried along the Long Island shore, all the way to New
London.
"We had to hug the land close," said the narrator, "but here we are."
"Home! Home!" shouted Captain Avery. "The folks must have this to
cheer 'em up. It's the first bit of good news we've had in many a long
day. Hurrah for George Washington! God bless him!"
It was an instantly arriving vexation, then, that the brisk breeze and
the tide, so favorable for coming out, were not so much so for running
in.
The _Boxer's_ captain had also his vexations, for he shortly remarked:--
"There she goes! The boat's with her. We're not to have a chance at
her to-day. If I can get at her, I'll sink her! She'll come out
again."
That was precisely the purpose in the mind of Lyme Avery, and he did
not intend any long delay, either.