THE NEUTRAL PORT.
A remarkable place, in the summer of the year 1777, was the old French
harbor of Brest. A not altogether pleasant fame had gathered upon it,
like drifted seaweed, from historically ancient days. It was said to
have been a rendezvous for the old-time vikings of the northern seas,
as it was at this day for the smugglers. All of the town that could be
seen from the harbor wore a shambling, dingy, antiquated appearance.
Its ill-paved, steep, and dirty streets swarmed with an exceedingly
varied and not at all admirable population, although the better classes
were represented.
Vessels of all sorts were there, as usual, one pleasant afternoon,
going out, coming in, at anchor, or moored to the more or less
tumbledown wharves and piers. The arrival or departure of one ship
more was not an affair to attract especial attention.
One important feature of the character of the ancient port was that
whatever might be the existing treaties between the kings of France and
Great Britain, Brest was always more or less at war with England.
English sailors were welcome enough, of course, particularly if they
were willing to desert, or had recently been paid off, or were supposed
to be engaged in smuggling.
Among the vessels at anchor were three French war-ships, one Dutch
cruiser, undergoing repairs, and a smart-looking British corvette that
was lying well out from shore. All of these were under treaty bonds to
keep the peace with each other and with the world in general, but Brest
was also distinguished as a port into which all navies at peace with
France might bring their prizes for condemnation and sale, according to
existing maritime law.
A little after the noon, the loungers on the piers might have taken
notice, if they would, of a large schooner that was slipping in through
the strongly fortified entrance channel under little more than her
foresail. She either had a French pilot on board or was steered by a
man who knew the harbor, for she went at once to the right spot to drop
her anchor, and a boat shortly put out from her toward the shore.
"There's a French flag on a Yankee-built schooner," remarked an officer
of the British corvette. "That's because we are here. I'd like to cut
her out, but it wouldn't do. Our war with France hasn't quite begun.
I'm going to see, though, if we can't manage to get some men out of
her."
He was a burly, bulldog-looking person, and he made other remarks not
at all complimentary to Americans in general, and to one Mr. George
Washington in particular.
"According to the latest advices," he asserted, "Howe and Cornwallis
are crushing out the Virginia fox's ragamuffins. Burgoyne will take
possession of northern New York and all the New England colonies. Then
the king will have his own again, and we shall see some rebels hung."
There was, indeed, an increasingly bitter feeling among loyal
Englishmen, caused by what they deemed the needless prolongation of the
war. According to their way of thinking, the rebels were unreasonable
and should long since have given up their useless attempt to escape
from under the rightful rule of the mother country.
On the deck of the schooner, whether she were French or American, only
a few men were making their appearance, and she seemed to have a great
deal of deck-cargo. It was concerning that, perhaps, that conversation
was going on below, and here, at least, the population was even
excessive.
"Their glasses'd tell 'em just what we are, Captain Avery," said one
before the boat left, "if we swarmed up."
"They'll find out, anyhow," said the captain. "Our deck-load must get
ashore at once, before they know too much. It's in the way, too."
From other remarks that were made, it appeared that the cargo to be
disposed of had been taken from no less than four unfortunate British
merchantmen, and that the schooner had been a long time in gathering
it. Good reasons were also given why the ships themselves had not been
seized as well as the goods.
The captain was now in the boat, and his face wore a very thoughtful
expression.
"Groot," he said, "you talk French better'n I do. Keep close and
watch."
"All the lingoes you ever heard of are talked in Brest," said the
Dutchman. "I've been here for months at a time. You'll have a visitor
from that British corvette, first thing. They won't mind sea law much,
either. They never do, and the French never try to follow 'em up
sharp."
"Now they've let us run in, I don't care," said the captain. "We've
had pretty narrow escapes gettin' here. It was touch and go, along the
coast."
Absolute disguise or secrecy was out of the question, perhaps, but when
a boat from the _Syren_ shortly afterward pulled to the side of the
_Noank_ there was no invitation given to come on board.
"What schooner's this?" roughly demanded the officer of the boat.
"_Noank_, New London," responded Vine Avery, at the rail. "Assorted
cargo. We ran right in through a fleet of your sleepyheads. Do you
belong to that clumsy corvette, yonder?"
"Shut your mouth!" snapped the officer. "We'll come for you, yet."
"Hurrah for the Continental Congress!" said Vine, maliciously. "If
this 'ere wasn't a neutral port we'd board that tub o' yours and take
her home with us. We want some more guns and powder anyhow!"
"You're a pirate!" roared the officer. "We've a right to take you out
under the French law. You've no protection."
"Keep your distance," said Vine. "We'll be ready for you when you
come."
Angry faces were beginning to show behind Vine. The British officer
saw steel points like pikeheads, and he heard threatening exclamations,
only half suppressed. As the representative of a man-of-war, he had an
undoubted right to question the character of any merchant vessel
whatever, and to make her commander exhibit his papers, if the meeting
took place at sea. In harbor, however, under the guns of neutral
forts, the case was different.
The Englishman had really obtained the information he came after, and
he had no orders to go any further. He knew exactly the character of
this schooner. Even the pike-heads could be read like good
handwriting. He replied to Vine with hardly more than an angry growl
and went back to report to his commander.
"Privateer, is she?" remarked that gentleman, after hearing him. "I
supposed so. I'd lay the _Syren_ alongside of her, if it wasn't for
getting into hot water with the French and with the admiral. We'll try
for some of her men, on board or on shore, and I'll have that schooner!"
The younger officer grumbled his readiness to cut out the rebel pirate
that very night, but his wiser superior only laughed at him.
"There she is," he said, "with her head in the lion's mouth. We
needn't shut our jaws on her till the right minute. Then it will be
one good bite and we'll have her, men, cargo, and all."
The boat from the _Noank_ reached a wharf, and it had not come there
upon any mere pleasure trip.
"Short work, now, Groot," said the captain. "If you can't find your
men right away, I'll take a look after mine."
Away they went, along the water front, until they were halted by Groot
in front of an immense, dingy old warehouse.
"Opdyke Freres," he read the faded sign over the entrance of it. "They
are here, yet. Brest and Amsterdam. What goods they can't handle in
France, they can in Holland. They'll do the fair thing by us,--so
we'll be sure to come to them again."
"That's our grip on their honesty, this time," said Captain Avery.
In two minutes more, the entire boat's crew of the _Noank_ was gathered
in a counting-room in the rear of the warehouse. It looked as if a
hundred generations of spiders had made their webs in its corners,
undisturbed.
A short, fat man turned upon a high stool at a desk to inquire, in
Dutch:--
"Oh! Mynheer Groot! Not hung yet? Is it some new business?"
Part of Groot's reply was a rapid introduction of his friends, while he
stated their errand. There could be nothing but utter mutual
confidence in such a case, and the head of the house of Opdyke Brothers
was exceedingly outspoken.
"We take the deck-cargo to-night," he said. "Our lighters will come as
soon as it is dark. You will pay the custom-house men ten thousand
francs down, so they will not know anything about it. I will be there
and one of my brothers. We will take off as much more as we can
to-morrow night. You will go to Amsterdam with your next cargo or
prizes. The British are increasing their guard. Ha, ha! It is war
with them, too, and they take some prizes. We buy of them every now
and then."
Guert was listening eagerly to all that was said. He was obtaining new
ideas and information as to the manner in which plunder taken at sea by
all sorts of war-ships may be marketed.
"It's the war law of buccaneering," he thought. "If England and
America were at peace, then our business would be piracy."
It was not easy to make it seem right, and he gave that up, trying to
settle his conscience with the assertion that it was one of those
things which cannot be helped.
"It ought to be helped," he thought. "Ships of war ought to do the
fighting and let the unarmed ships go free. I don't like it! But I'm
a privateersman myself, just now."
Back went the boat to the _Noank_ and Mynheer Opdyke kept his word. It
was a misty night, and before morning there was nothing worth noticing
upon the deck, unless it might be something amidships that was covered
by a tarpaulin. That, however, had been read and understood by the
lookouts in the tops of the British corvette.
"The privateer carries a pivot-gun," her captain had said. "Three guns
each broadside? Remarkably full crew? All right. She's a dangerous
customer to leave afloat. We must make an end of her."
That next day was spent on shore by most of the _Noank's_ crew. Not
one of them was willing to remain in Brest, however. The best chance
that the rescued prisoners, for instance, seemed to have for ever
getting home was in the _Noank_.
"Besides," they said to each other, "some of us may get out in prizes,
before long. We may win prize-money, too."
One day more went by, and it was near evening when Captain Avery said
to Guert Ten Eyck:--
"No, my boy, you won't go ashore again. Our water-casks and the
provisions are coming aboard. The Opdykes have done wonderfully well
by us. I never saw better lighter work. I can't say at what hour we
may be ready to put to sea."
The British watchers saw all the lighters coming and going. Their
patrol boats now and then pulled very near the schooner, but they had
no right to board her. No doubt they had further plans of their own,
but they were a little slow with them. The truth was, that the Opdykes
deserved the praise given them by Captain Avery. Nobody would have
expected such a rapid discharge of a cargo as they effected. That is,
nobody without visiting the schooner that night and seeing how a
hundred strong men could handle goods.
"Captain," said Mynheer Opdyke, at last, "you have no time to lose.
The ship for Belfast goes out with the morning tide, and her cargo is a
good one. We put on part of it ourselves, but we insured it pretty
well. I think the corvette is going to pretend to change her
anchorage, and she will slip alongside of you while she's moving."
"That's what I'm ready for," replied the captain, laughing. "She may
anchor on this very spot as soon as she pleases after this lighter
goes."
He took a small bag of money that was handed him by the merchant, and
the latter went over the side.
"Ho, ho!" he chuckled, as he did so. "I make one hundred per cent.
Now I go and report to my British friends that they must take the
American pirate within three days, or she will get away from them. Our
house is on good terms with them."
That might be, but if it were expected that he would give up profitable
business for friendship's sake, that was expecting altogether too much.
Very still lay the _Noank_ during the hour that followed. Carefully
muffled were the oars of a small boat that came back to her from a
swiftly rowed scouting expedition. Then it seemed as if her anchor
came up without a sound, and the booms swung away without creaking. No
voices were heard from stem to stern, and a swarm of dark figures
flitted around her deck as if they wore moccasons.
"Belfast ship gone out," Up-na-tan had reported to Captain Avery.
"Lobster corvette ready to lift anchor. Four lobster boat in water,
now. British think they come and take _Noank_ while all crew ashore.
Think schooner go sleep."
"Pretty good!" said the captain. "They'd run out to sea with us, then,
and the French'd never do a thing about it. America isn't a power yet,
and England is. Never mind, we're goin' to spile their luck this time."
The schooner slipped away as if the water had been oiled for her.
There was wind enough and not a great deal more. Every sail she could
spread was in its place, and her breathless crew watched their canvas
feverishly as she sped toward the channel at the harbor mouth.
Not a great deal of noise had been made on board the _Syren_, as she
lifted her anchor to change her ground. She had a right to do so and
to get a little more out of the way of other ships. She was sending up
only a few sails, however, only just enough to carry her slowly along.
It was as if she moved across the water cautiously, not caring for the
time expended.
Her commander was justifiably certain of the success of his plans. He
stood upon the quarter-deck, trumpet in hand. His gallant tars, with
pikes and cutlasses ready, but no firearms, the report of which might
be heard by the French on shore, were drawn up in line, waiting for the
order, so soon to come, to board the _Noank_. Splendid men they were,
and the sleeping Americans were to be overcome in the twinkling of an
eye. Four boats were at the sides of the corvette, and into these went
down the expectant boarders, for the crisis was at hand. No orders
were required and the oars dipped rapidly, in perfect unison. The
affair would soon be over. The commander on the corvette's deck was
listening for the shout of onset and of sudden victory.
"Hullo!" suddenly exclaimed the lieutenant in the bow of the foremost
boat. "Here we are! Where's that schooner?"
"She's gone, sir!" came loudly from one of the sailors. "Gone
entirely!"
All the silence was gone also, as the boats dashed on to row uselessly
over the patch of water where the _Noank_ had been seen at sunset.
Orders and exclamations might be uttered noisily now.
The _Syren's_ captain could hear, and he could understand, but for some
reason he did not seem inclined to make remarks. Most likely he was
thinking, for the first words from his lips were:--
"Lieutenant, recall the boats. All hands make sail! We must follow
that privateer. I'm afraid he has two hours the start of us."
"I'm afraid he's away," growled the lieutenant. "I'd like to know who
gave him his warning."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the captain. "He's after that Belfast liner. We
must follow in her wake, or she'll go to America instead of to Ireland."
An old, experienced sea-campaigner can sometimes make shrewd
calculations. Not a great while after that and just as the day was
dawning, a bulky three-master, running along in a steady, businesslike
manner, appeared to be almost in danger of being run into by a much
smaller craft which had been following her. The pursuer's flag was
English, and she showed no guns.
"Schooner ahoy, there!" shouted a voice on the three-master. "Sheer
away, there, or you'll strike us. Port your helm! Port, I say!"
No direct answer came back, but he heard a hoarse-toned shout of:--
"All hands shorten sail! Throw that grappling! Throw the other! Haul
in! Haul taut! Bring us alongside! Hurrah! We have her! Board!"
So skilfully was it done that there was no great or damaging shock when
the two vessels came together. The grapplings held, the American
sailors pulled mightily, and before the liner's crew who were below
could tumble up to join their comrades on deck there were fifty pikemen
swarming over her bulwarks.
"We surrender!" was almost the first loud exclamation of the British
skipper. "You're that rebel pirate! Why didn't the _Syren_ catch you!"
"We weren't there to be caught," called back Captain Avery. "The
_Killarney_ is ours, Captain Syme!"
"We can't help ourselves! It's the hard fortune of war!" groaned the
astounded Briton. "Do your worst!"
"No harm to any of you," replied his captor. "We'll put you and your
crew and passengers ashore on the first land we come to. This 'ere
ship, though, is bound for New London."
It was a time for little talk and for the swiftest kind of action,
while the Belfast liner was made ready for her trip across the Atlantic.
"I'm glad you find she has water and provisions enough, Vine," said his
father, a little later. "You may have twenty-five of the rescued men.
They are prime fellows. I'd go under easy sail most o' the time. We
won't take out a pound o' the cargo here. Make quick work of gettin'
away, now! We're pretty nigh ready to cast loose."
Vine and his exceedingly well-pleased two dozen or more of escaped
prisoners of war took possession of the _Killarney_, and about all the
risk before them was that of getting under the guns of some British
cruiser.
Captain Syme and his crew and passengers, transferred to the _Noank_
with their baggage, were a very disconsolate company, even when they
were promised a quick trip to the Irish coast, as near Belfast as might
be.
"Hard luck for us," remarked Syme. "It's that sleepy corvette that's
to blame. I believed I was getting away in good season."
"So you were," replied Captain Avery. "You couldn't ha' suited us
better. I like the _Syren_, too. She's gone over to our old anchorage
by this time."
He was mistaken there. The angry, disappointed British commander was
putting on all sail, and his cruiser was bowling along the sea-road
toward Belfast. No sail was in sight ahead of her, and he was fretted
sadly by a suspicion of the truth, that the _Killarney_, with a prize
crew on board, was already headed westward, while the dashing privateer
he had missed was taking a northerly course, favored much by the fine
topsail breeze that was blowing.