When the Holker made the inlet at Little Egg Harbor, she came to an
anchorage behind one of the low-lying islands. Her only chances for an
escape were a high tide and darkness, or a fog that would let her slip
out and pass the Roebuck. If a boarding party from the English frigate
did not attack him, Captain Risk was preparing his ship for a chance
to escape. There was much to keep his crew busy, for he had rigging to
overhaul and spars to mend.
At the time Roderick Barclugh was boarding the Albatross, the Holker
was waiting to escape, and little did he think that he was to run
across the privateer. He gladly went to his bunk and indulged in much
needed rest. All he knew was that he was to be put ashore on the New
Jersey coast near Little Egg Harbor inlet, and then he must make his
way to Philadelphia as best he could.
He felt that nothing ought to worry him when his mission to New York
had been accomplished. Thus far no drawback had occurred. Arnold simply
needed close watching and a small bait of gold now and then to keep him
working. He had arranged to sell the Holker when she had delivered the
flour, so that after the captain and crew were paid the prize money,
they could find other adventures.
The Albatross was one of those small, armed cruisers used by General
Clinton to execute raiding commissions up and down the coast. She was
of light enough draft to enter small inlets, travel the sounds and
bays, and assist in the guerilla warfare. She was a sloop armed with
eight nine-pound carronades, and one twelve-pound swivel. The crew
numbered forty men. As the orders given Captain Sutherland were to
convey his passenger to a harbor on the Jersey coast, the Albatross was
under way very soon, and started tacking into the sou’east gale for the
Narrows and Sandy Hook.
The watch on deck was busy bringing the sloop into stays and the men
off watch were sleeping soundly in their hammocks below decks. Barclugh
slept well until the Narrows were passed, and the Albatross began to
pound her nose into the sea-way, then he awoke and peered out of the
cabin to see where this commotion came from.
Greatly refreshed, Barclugh’s mind was active and alert. Whether the
change from the shore to the realm of Neptune had caused an undue
influence upon his affairs, only time could tell; however, there
seems to be a weak point in the affairs of all men; as though a farmer
were to sell his land and buy a ship to go to sea; or as though each
realm of nature had deities that rebelled upon the invasion of their
particular sphere by the patrons of the others.
At all events, Barclugh felt a restlessness from the influence of the
sea as he sat in the cabin and pondered upon the working of his plot.
He now had time to think about Captain Risk and the Holker. He wondered
where she could be and what would he do with Captain Risk, who was the
sole Colonist acquainted with his dealings with Arnold. He reasoned
thus:
“Captain Risk is devoted to the fickle fortunes of privateering.” (And
so he was.) “After Risk’s present enterprise shall have been closed,
he could take another ship and probably would be captured by a British
cruiser. Thus I do not need to fear on that score.”
Neptune loves a true sailor. But when a land-lubber enters nautical
enterprises to carry out plots, the old Sea-god sets his Nereides upon
the novice to give him a taste of wind and wave. Only the true and
tried presume to propitiate the nymphs of Father Neptune. Neither gold
nor titles influences the Nereides of wind and wave. The hurricane
in its mighty wrath levels the potentate to the same sphere as the
peasant. When the ship sinks, both exclaim in anguish:
“Lord, have mercy upon us!”
The Albatross made but slow progress against the sou’east gale. The
night of the second day she was abreast of Barnegat inlet. Before
morning Little Egg Harbor inlet was reached, but since the moon did not
rise clear after midnight, Captain Sutherland stood on and off until
daylight. In the daytime he could make the channel and go over the bar.
Early that morning the lookout forward sang out:
“Sail, ho!”
“Where away?”
“Two points on the weather bow, sir.”
Captain Sutherland took his glass and made out a full-rigged frigate
bearing down upon him. He had no fears, however, for he knew that the
Roebuck was in these waters, and no cruiser of the enemy would likely
be around. As the frigate bore down alongside, within close range, a
voice from a trumpet out of the mizzen shrouds was heard to say:
“What ship is that and where away?”
Captain Sutherland trumpeted back:
“His Majesty’s sloop, the Albatross, bound for Little Egg Harbor inlet.”
“All’s well,” returned the frigate. “This is His Majesty’s man-of-war,
Roebuck. We shall send aboard important news.” The frigate came up into
the wind and lowered a boat to come aboard.
No sooner had the first trumpet-sound reached the Albatross than
Barclugh was up and on deck; if he were to be captured on board
an English armed sloop, his plans would miscarry. When he saw His
Majesty’s cruiser he was reassured. As he paced up and down the deck,
he saw the lieutenant of the frigate come aboard and go into the cabin
of the Albatross.
After customary formalities, Lieutenant Nelson of the Roebuck stated
his business:
“Captain Sutherland, we are blockading a Yankee privateer inside the
inlet; she had captured the General Monk; we have chased her into this
harbor.
“If you will attack her, we will send you a full complement of men. We
will send the boats and you can take her by boarding.
“She can not man[oe]uvre inside the harbor, and she is crippled. Her
forward battery is gone, and she is short of crew.”
“It’s well, Lieutenant Nelson, I shall obey Captain Atherton’s orders,”
replied Captain Sutherland, and then he remarked quizzically: “Shall
we appease the sea-nymphs, Lieutenant?”
“Certainly, certainly,” returned Nelson, when he observed Captain
Sutherland go to the locker and take out a decanter of Madeira and two
long glasses.
“Got your eye?” proposed Sutherland, as the two raised their glasses,
and took a long pull at the “Milk of Venus” for the sake of good
comradeship.
During the day not a word could Barclugh ask about the business of the
two ships, for his security depended upon his own counsel being kept;
but at daylight the next morning, there was no more question in his
mind.
Lying at anchor behind the island was a crippled brig with main-topmast
gone. The frigate was lying a mile on the weather bow, and all was
activity on her decks. Three boats’ crews were boarding the small
boats; he saw them strike out for the Albatross. The wind had now
settled to a steady breeze from the south.
Lieutenant Nelson was in command of the boats’ crews from the frigate,
and as they came alongside, sixty brawny men, armed to the teeth,
mounted the deck of the sloop. With the boats in tow, the Albatross now
made over the bar toward the Holker.
When the Holker escaped the Roebuck and weathered the bar, Captain Risk
commenced at once to replace the injured topmast, and get his sails
repaired so that he could slip out in the dark of night, and show his
heels to the frigate. But when Risk saw the armed sloop make the inlet
with the three boats in tow, he knew what was ahead for his crew;
therefore, he called them all on deck and pointing to the sloop, said:
“Men, there come those lime-juicers to take this brig. They outnumber
us two to one. Shall we make them pay for their pains?”
“Ay, ay,” came from every throat, and the boatswain stepped forward and
said:
“Captain, wherever you lead us we will go.”
Captain Risk was now on his mettle. His ship was crippled; his
main-topmast was gone, he had thrown overboard his six-pounders, and he
was short his two lieutenants; his prize crew was on the General Monk,
and the killed and wounded in the engagement depleted his numbers;
however, he was determined that if he were compelled to strike to the
enemy he would make them pay two for one.
Mounting the quarter-deck, he first ordered a spring-line on his kedge
to windward, his bower anchor to leeward so that he could spring his
stern in a semicircle and bring his battery of twelve-pounders to bear,
no matter from what point the enemy approached.
Next he ordered the boarding-nets in place, loaded all the muskets
and pistols, and placed everything handy for fighting close aboard.
Cutlasses and pikes were made ready and the deck was sanded. The
battery was double-shotted with grape for close execution.
The Albatross came up with a fair breeze from the south’ard as though
they were on a pleasure excursion. When the sloop drew up into the
inlet, Barclugh got the glass from Captain Sutherland and critically
examined the lines and rig of the Holker.
He then began to think. The whole matter came before his view. The
Holker could be taken. The crew and Captain Risk could be confined
until his plot was carried through. Yet he did not wish any harm to
come to Risk during the fight.
When Barclugh returned the spying-glass to Captain Sutherland, he
remarked earnestly:
“Captain Sutherland, I see that fellow is getting ready to give us a
warm reception, and may I have the honor of leading one of your boats’
crews against him?”
“No, sir,” replied the captain imperatively. “I have strict orders to
land you safely on the Jersey shore in Little Egg River, and I can not
take any risks. You better repair at once to your cabin, and remain
there during the engagement, sir,” continued the captain, as he turned
to order his men. Barclugh could say nothing to these orders, and he
went below to mingle with the crew of the frigate.
Among the men he noticed a good-natured looking fellow; going up to
him, he said in an undertone:
“I want to speak to you, my good man. Kindly come to my cabin.”
“Certainly, sir,” replied the man-o’-war’s man, as he ambled along with
Barclugh.
When they reached his cabin, Barclugh said:
“For certain private reasons, I desire to go aboard that brig when she
is taken. Here are five guineas, my man, if you exchange your uniform
for my suit. You remain closely in my cabin and keep the door fastened
until I return. Give me your name and station and I will take your
place in the boarding party.”
“My name is William Atkinson, hand as hit’s to obleege a gentleman I’m
willin’. We ’ave more’n this business than a poor man’s pay allows. Hi
belongs to boat’s crew number one,” replied the sailor as he hitched up
his trousers and put the guineas in a bag around his neck.
When Barclugh had changed his garb, Atkinson looked at him and
remarked:
“Keep in the dark and go along with the rest. Hin the hexcitement you
will not be knownst. Howsomever, you better get a little grease to
blacken ’em hup a little.”
Barclugh took his place among the armed men below, and kept in the dark
corners until the command was passed to man cutter number one.
As the sloop boomed up with a spanking breeze, every available space
was occupied by the one hundred armed men on her decks, so that
they looked like black birds. Captain Risk did not intend to remain
idle while this array was coming on. Instead, he trained his long
eighteen-pound pivot, and opened the fracas by giving the Englishman a
good shot between wind and water.
The sloop then manned the cutters and while they were advancing on the
brig, the sloop luffed up and delivered a broadside at long range, but
most of the shot fell short.
However, four boats’ crews, three from the frigate and one from the
sloop, advanced on the Holker with loud cheers. Barclugh took his place
unnoticed; the frigate’s men thought a man from the sloop had gotten
into their crew by mistake. The spy was intent on gaining the deck of
the Holker so that he might protect Risk if possible.
As the four boats’ crews came up to the Holker’s bow within close
range, Captain Risk swung off on the kedge-spring line, and brought
his broadside up to the boats and a sheet of flame burst out of the
Holker’s side. A score of men lay prostrate on the bottom of the boats.
Barclugh escaped.
The boats opened up a hot fire and took different courses,--one to the
forward chains,--one on each quarter, and one astern.
The boat’s crew astern cut the spring-line on the kedge, but that only
let the Holker drift with the wind.
Now commenced the fight with small arms, when the cannon could not
bear. The crew of the Holker stationed themselves on the forecastle and
on the quarter-deck.
A rush was made by the attacking party at the forward chains, but every
time a head showed itself above the bulwarks, it was met with a cutlass
or marlin-spike.
Two different rushes were made by the British at the stern, but each
attack was repulsed, and after forty minutes of ineffectual work the
English boats retired amidst loud cheers from the Holker’s crew.
The English lost fifteen killed and twenty wounded. They went back to
the sloop severely crippled,--so much so, in fact, that signals were
at once made to the Roebuck, and two boat-loads of crippled and dead
sent off to the frigate.
That evening Captain Risk saw four boat-loads come back from the
frigate to the sloop. He knew that he was to have a night attack from
more men than before, and he had lost six men in the fight that day.
His force was now reduced to thirty-four men.
Risk prepared for an emergency by placing his long tom amidships so
that if the enemy gained the deck forward or aft, he could turn them a
point-blank charge of grape, and, with a rally of his men, drive them
overboard.
As Captain Risk expected, however, at midnight he could see six
boat-loads approaching in the moonlight. He stationed his men, and they
knew that before Captain Risk would strike to the enemy he would apply
a match to the magazine, so every man determined to die at his station.
As soon as the enemy’s boats were distinguishable in their dim
outlines, a rapid discharge of the twelve-pounders and the muskets
began. The English separated and dashed forward. The plan was well
executed, since almost at once the six boats came alongside at
different points.
[Illustration: Captain Risk engaged two seamen, cutlass in one hand and
pistol in the other.]
Fighting like demons, the crews of the boats were determined to avenge
the day’s repulse and gain the deck. The English were driven back
amidships and astern where Captain Risk led his men; but in the forward
chains the English were in such numbers that they clambered up so fast
that the Yankees were driven back.
When Captain Risk saw the English gathering for a rush from the
forecastle, he grabbed a match and turning the long tom forward, he
applied the fire. He then called his men to his side to drive the
English back into their boats.
But the English had too many. When the long tom dealt its carnage,
enough remained to rush upon Risk and his little band, where a
hand-to-hand encounter ensued.
Rushing at the head of his men into the fight, Captain Risk engaged
two seamen, and with cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other, he
shot one through the shoulder and sent the other reeling to the deck
with a cutlass stroke on his head. Being now pressed on all sides,
Risk rushed with a match to the companion-way to throw it into the
magazine; but he was shot in the forehead and killed before he could
accomplish his object. The Americans, now officerless, were forced upon
the quarter-deck; the crew was overpowered from all sides, and the
colors hauled down by the enemy. But the victory was dearly bought by
the English. In this last encounter twenty Englishmen were killed and
thirty-two wounded.
Among those that were wounded was Barclugh. When Captain Risk rushed
upon the two seamen that were advancing upon him, the one that he shot
in the shoulder was Barclugh. Faint with the loss of blood, and stunned
by the shock, Barclugh crawled very humbly back into his boat, and sat
there until he was carried to the sloop. He was not fatally hurt, but
his arm pained him severely.
When the sloop was reached, Barclugh got aboard without the assistance
of his mates, but, once below, he crawled to his cabin door. He found
William Atkinson soundly asleep, snoring like a porpoise blowing. When
he awoke the man-o’-war’s man, Atkinson exclaimed:
“Lor’ bless me, sir, you’re shot! I was dreamin’ how’s somethin’ was
happenin’ to you, sir. So let me ’elp you to bed and get you some water
or brandy. Here, let me get on my own clothes, as I am sure to be
blamed for these ’appenin’s.
“That’s it,--off with the blouse and trousers. I’m into them in a
jiffy. You’ll be better now, as you lie down a bit.”
“Atkinson,” requested Barclugh feebly, “you will find some brandy in
the locker there,--give me a little.”
“Ah, yes, sir. I was trying a wee bit in your absence, sir. It’s werry
good.
“Here you are,” continued the jacky. “Take that. Now lie down sir, and
I’ll go and notify the captain, sir. But before I go, sir, I wants to
leave these guineas with you. For, as you ’ad the trouble to get shot
in my place, I can’t take your money.” But when Atkinson looked at
Barclugh, he saw that he was unconscious, so, putting the money under
the pillow, he hastened on deck.
There every one was busy. Groans, curses, the dead laid out in rows
on the forecastle deck,--the wounded placed aboard the Roebuck’s
boats,--commands for cutters’ crews to man their boats, confronted
Atkinson on every hand. When his ensign ordered the crew of Atkinson’s
cutter to give way on the oars, he was at his station, and poor
Barclugh was left unattended in his cabin.
Every circumstance now turned against Barclugh and his plans.
Captain Risk was killed, but he had inflicted a serious wound in the
heat of battle, upon the plotter of the scheme. Thus the fate of a
nation was in the balance.
The representative of British gold received pay for his pains when he
was heartlessly left by the seaman in his cabin. When he aroused from
his spell of unconsciousness, in a dazed condition, he looked around
and found himself quite alone. After a short period of reflection, he
remembered the capture of the Holker, the encounter with Risk and the
death of the intrepid little captain as he attempted to blow up his
ship and all on board.
“My God!” muttered Barclugh to himself. “Ever since I came aboard this
craft, the fates seem to have worried me and to have been set against
my enterprise. Zounds! I had tried to be of some service to Risk, but
he has put me in my present predicament.
“Oh, Lord, have mercy upon me! Oh, that shoulder is done for! I cannot
raise my left arm. I better try and call for some assistance.”
When Barclugh tried to raise himself, the loss of blood made his head
light, and everything seemed to grow dark when he raised himself. He
lay back in his berth, consoling himself by exclaiming:
“I had better remain where I am, and thank God that I am not worse off!”
Barclugh lay quietly in his berth for hours,--in fact until the
morning after the fight. Captain Sutherland had thought of Barclugh
as fast asleep, little thinking that his passenger would disobey
orders. However, when Captain Sutherland had left a crew aboard the
Holker to fit her out and take her to New York, he began to look after
his passenger. Not finding him astir and nobody having seen him for
twenty-four hours, he went to Barclugh’s stateroom and rapped on the
door.
A voice within responded feebly:
“Come in.”
As the captain entered, he exclaimed:
“What’s the matter, Mr. Gustavus?”
“Well, Captain, I disobeyed your orders. I could not resist going to
that ship and fighting for the King; but here I am with my shoulder
shot to pieces.”
“I am very sorry, Mr. Gustavus,” replied Captain Sutherland. “Are you
hurt very badly? I will send the ship’s surgeon to you.”
The surgeon came and dressed the wound and set the collar-bone, that
had been broken. He put Barclugh under strict orders that he must not
move out of bed for two or three days.
These three days were like sackcloth and ashes to Barclugh. He was
feverish to get to Philadelphia, but the wound chastened his soul. He
grew sick at heart, when he lay bandaged up, and the words of Mollie
Greydon rang in his ears:
“Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal
“I serv’d my king,--”
He tossed restlessly, smarting under the pangs of a contrite heart, and
muttered to himself again and again:
“If I only had half of the simplicity and happiness of the new settler,
Benjamin Andrews, all the drafts on the Bank of Amsterdam that I have
on my person would be freely given. If my life were linked with a pure
and lofty spirit like Mollie Greydon, and living on some lovely estate
like Dorminghurst, how free from all of this turmoil and strife my
life would be! No war!! No great need of money!!! No jealousy!!!! Just
living serenely for the happiness of those around me and for the glory
of my Creator!”
If the sublime presence of a sweet and tender woman had been able to
minister to Barclugh at this crisis of his soul, the better nature
within him would have triumphed over his sordidness, and he would have
given up to the better dictates of his conscience. However, he fell
into a deep slumber, and when he awoke his body had become rested and
refreshed. Stern ambition was uppermost in his mind again, and he began
to plan to get back to Philadelphia.
The next day Barclugh commenced to recover from the shock of his wound;
he chafed under the restraint that he was in; then he sent for Captain
Sutherland. As soon as Captain Sutherland entered the cabin where the
spy was sitting in an arm-chair, having his arm in a sling, he spoke
cautiously:
“Good morning, Captain Sutherland. I am behind on my calculations two
days already, and I am very desirous of returning to Philadelphia.”
“How do you propose to return, sir?” quizzed the captain.
“I have resolved on two possible means,” answered Barclugh. “One is to
engage a passage on a fishing sloop; the other to go overland.
“I used to be acquainted with a Swedish fisherman who sold oysters in
that city. He had two sloops that plied to this inlet. If I could be
fortunate enough to find him, I could return most comfortably.
“Then I could be taken up Little Egg River as far as a small boat could
go and thereafter depend on my own wits to reach Philadelphia overland.
I prefer the water route in a sloop.
“Put me ashore at some fisherman’s hut and I will take care of myself,”
concluded Barclugh.
“Do you think that you are well enough to make the journey?” asked the
captain.
“I shall be as well off as I am waiting here,” continued Barclugh.
“If you will give me two trusty men in a boat to land me at the mouth
of Little Egg Harbor River, I shall stop with the first fisherman that
I can find. I can buy his boat, if necessary, to take me on my journey.
A few guineas will look big in his eyes,” argued Barclugh.
“Very well, Mr. Gustavus, I shall undertake to land you whenever you
are ready,” stated Captain Sutherland, as he arose to leave.
“I shall be ready at sunrise,” replied Barclugh, whereupon the captain
left the cabin for the deck.