IN PORT.
The moments passed in silence, save for the hissing of the rain-drops
as they mingled with the water of the river, and I was saying to
myself that of a verity we must have drifted safely through the fleet
without touching a ship, when that came which I had been fearing.
Suddenly I felt a shock; then a noise as of wood grinding against
wood, and I knew we had fouled the enemy!
While one might have counted five the pungy rubbed against the side of
the ship, and then came the hail:
"Ahoy there! Ahoy!"
"What are you hailing?" a strange voice cried, and he who had first
broken the silence replied:
"There's a craft of some kind alongside, sir!"
Then it was as if a swarm of bees had been let loose. The enemy's ship
was alive with moving, buzzing beings, some of whom cried out this or
that order, and others called down maledictions on the head of the man
who had needlessly aroused them.
"There's nothin' here, sir. Sam was dreamin'," I heard the voice of a
sailor cry, and almost at the same instant came the rattling of
fire-arms as they were being handled, sounding so near aboard that it
seemed as if a portion of the enemy had leaped upon our decks.
"Make ready! Fire!" sounded the command, sharp and quick.
Then came a sheet of flame which lighted up surrounding objects until
we could distinctly see the deck of the bomb-vessel, and the eager men
thronging her deck.
This illumination was but as the lightning's flash, and then we could
hear the angry hum of the bullets as they swarmed above our heads.
We had been seen, and I believed that a broadside would follow in
short order, yet at the same time I realized that our good fortune had
followed us when it sent the pungy afoul of a bomb-vessel, instead of
a craft which had her guns ready trained for service.
Now had come the time, however, when we were to remain idle no longer.
I heard Darius call Bill Jepson, and knew by the noises which followed
that the two sailors were taking to the canoe in order to tow the
pungy, and at the same time Captain Hanaford cast off the lashing of
the tiller as he ordered us to run up the canvas.
Work? I have never moved so lively before nor since, as I did then
when I felt positive that within a very few seconds our deck would be
swept by grape and cannister.
At such moments of supreme danger one's senses are unnaturally acute,
and while I gave strict attention to all that was taking place aboard
the pungy, it became possible to understand what the enemy was about.
The other vessels of the fleet were making ready to take a hand in our
destruction. From every quarter we could hear cries of command,
mingled with the noise of men running to and fro, and just when the
pungy began to feel the effect of the canvas which was clapped on her
in such a hurry, a rocket went up, illumining the scene for ten
seconds or more.
Then it was I saw that we had passed three of the ships, having come
to grief on the last in the line, and had no time to take further note
of the surroundings when the guns of all four craft belched forth with
a mighty roar that caused the pungy to tremble, but the impact of the
shot did not follow.
Thus suddenly aroused, and in the intense darkness which had been
dispelled only long enough to dazzle a fellow's eyes, the gunners had
not been able to take accurate aim, otherwise we must have gone to the
bottom like a stone.
"They won't have time to try that game more than once again before
we'll be well out of their way," I heard Darius say, and I knew we
had sufficient speed to render useless the work of towing, otherwise
the two sailors would not have come aboard.
Now three rockets were sent up in rapid succession, and while the
light lasted I knew that the British gunners were taking aim at us;
but we had slipped so far down the river by this time that there were
some few chances in our favor, however closely they might shoot.
"Down on your faces!" Darius cried, and I dropped like a stone,
understanding that such an order had been given to lessen the chances
of our being hit; but at the same time the thought came to me that it
was better to be killed by a round-shot which would cut a man's life
short instantly, than mangled by a splinter.
Then came the flash of burning powder; the mighty roar of big guns;
the hurtling shot striking the water on every side, and the pungy
reeled and quivered as if she had struck a rock.
"One ball went home that time!" Darius cried, and I knew by the sound
that he had leaped to his feet, running with all speed into the cuddy.
From below I made out the tiny gleam of the match as Darius lighted a
lantern, and did not need to be told that he was gone to learn what
injury our vessel had received.
Immediately the cannon had been discharged Captain Hanaford was on
his feet, grasping the tiller as if it was possible to steer the pungy
while the blackness continued so dense that one might fancy he could
feel it, and then came the glare of more rockets.
This aided the helmsman of ours more than it did the British gunners,
since it gave him an opportunity to see exactly where his vessel was;
but as to that I gave no heed. All my mind was centered on the
distance between us and the enemy.
I could have cried aloud with joy, and am not certain but that I did,
on seeing that we were drawing away with more speed than I had
believed was in the clumsy craft, and, what was of greater importance,
the pungy was rounding a bend which, once passed, would put us beyond
reach of the guns.
The rockets had been fired just in the nick of time, otherwise we
would have gone ashore on the western bank.
For the third time we heard the thunder of the guns; but the shot must
have passed astern of us, for I did not hear either the splashing of
water or the splintering of our wood-work to tell where they struck.
Then Darius came on deck with an announcement that relieved me of
nearly all my fears.
"The pungy has a solid shot above the water-line well forward; but
there's no need of pluggin' it, for the ball didn't get through the
timber. I reckon we've done the trick, eh, captain?"
"We're off for a fact, an' unless we strike the mud 'twixt here an'
the bay, we've seen the last of that lot of Britishers."
Now it was that all hands of us were ordered forward to act as
look-outs, and the pungy danced along in the darkness, as if rejoicing
at her escape from a peril that had well-nigh proved her ending.
It is impossible for me to set down what we said or did when it was
seen that we had really escaped from as dangerous a venture as human
beings ever embarked in. I dare say we acted like a party of simples,
and certain it is that the older members of the crew were no less
boisterous in their rejoicings than we lads.
And now there remains but little more to be said, for the homeward
voyage was short.
At midnight the rain ceased falling; the clouds were partially
dispersed, and we had sufficient light to enable us to navigate the
little vessel without difficulty.
In four and twenty hours, without having come across an enemy, or
anything to cause alarm, we were in Benedict once more, Captain
Hanaford having sailed past his own home in order to land us, and well
was it for all hands that we did not arrive the day previous, because
not until then did the fleet under Admiral Cochrane, with the land
forces under General Ross, take their final departure, leaving the
little village looking as if a herd of cattle had been pastured there.
It only remains for me to say, since this story has nothing to do with
my movements after we were returned from service under Commodore
Barney, that in due time the government honored the commodore's
guarantee, thus enabling Jerry and me to purchase a pungy much larger
and better than the Avenger, and at the same time have quite a
substantial sum of money to give our parents.
And all this I have written in the cuddy of the new boat, which we
have named the "Joshua Barney," while Jim Freeman, Dody Wardwell,
Josiah Coburn, Darius and Jerry have discussed each portion as it was
set down, for we are shipmates in the oyster business, sharing the
profits as well as the work, until a stranger would find it difficult
to say which is the captain or which the cook.
Now that my portion of the work has come to an end, I shall copy here
that which will serve to wind up the yarn in proper shape.
Referring to the close of the battle of Bladensburg, a newspaper
writer says:
"The English sharp-shooters had straggled about, and were doing much
mischief; Barney's horse fell between two of the guns, pierced by two
balls; several of his officers were killed or wounded, the ammunition
wagon had gone off in the general confusion and retreat of the army;
the enemy began to flank out to the right, under cover of a thick
wood, and had nearly surrounded the commodore. His men were nearly
exhausted, having undergone a three-days' march without a regular
supply of provisions. He had received a wound in the thigh some time
before, and was faint from loss of blood, when he ordered a retreat,
which was effected in good order by the men and such officers as could
follow. He retired a few yards with the help of three of his officers
whom he had ordered away, and fell from weakness, in which situation
he was found by the enemy.
"General Ross and Admiral Cockburn came to him and tendered every
assistance. He was carried in a litter to the village of Bladensburg,
and the next day, in the company of his wife and son, was taken home
in a carriage. A week later he was formally exchanged for two British
colonels. The ball had been probed for by the English surgeons, but
without effect, and it was not found until after his death, which is
said to have been caused by the wound."
And now regarding the fleet which we dodged, Mr. Lossing says in his
"War of 1812."
"The British squadron appeared before Fort Washington on the 27th of
August, three days after the capture of the capital. Captain Dyson
either misunderstood General Winder's order, or was influenced by
mortal fear, for he blew up and abandoned the fort without firing a
gun. No doubt the British fleet could have been kept below by the
heavy cannon of the fort. Dyson chose not to try the experiment, and
for his injurious conduct he was dismissed from the service.
"The British squadron now had nothing to fear, and without
interference the frigates sailed on, anchoring off Alexandria on the
evening of the 28th. On the morning of the 29th it assumed a hostile
attitude a hundred yards from the wharves, and was well prepared to
lay every building in the town in ashes. The citizens sent a
deputation to Captain Gordon to ask upon what terms he would consent
to spare the town. He replied that all naval stores and ordnance; all
the shipping and its furniture; merchandise of every description in
the city, or which had been carried out of it to a place of safety;
and refreshments of every kind, must be immediately given up to him.
Also that the vessels which had been scuttled to save them from
destruction must be raised, and delivered up to him. 'Do all this,' he
said, 'and the town of Alexandria, with the exception of public works,
shall be spared, and the inhabitants shall remain unmolested."
"These were harsh and humiliating terms, and the inhabitants were
allowed only one hour for consideration. They were powerless, and were
compelled to submit. The merchandise that had been carried from the
town and the sunken vessels could not be given up to the invader, so
he contented himself by burning one vessel and loading several others,
chiefly with flour, cotton and tobacco. With these in charge, the
squadron weighed anchor and sailed down the Potomac."
THE END.
Good Fiction Worth Reading.
A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the
field of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love
and diplomacy that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest.
* * * * *
=A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE.= A story of American Colonial Times, By
Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of
Revolutionary scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling
one. It causes the true American to flush with excitement, to
devour chapter after chapter, until the eyes smart, and it
fairly smokes with patriotism. The love story is a singularly
charming idyl.
=THE TOWER OF LONDON.= A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady Jane
Grey and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four
illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.
This romance of the "Tower of London" depicts the Tower as
palace, prison and fortress, with many historical associations.
The era is the middle of the sixteenth century.
The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane
Grey, and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other
notable characters of the era. Throughout the story holds the
interest of the reader in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy,
extending considerably over a half a century.
=IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING.= A Romance of the American Revolution. By
Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee
bravery, and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with
the spirit of the Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we
feel ourselves taking a part in the exciting scenes described.
His whole story is so absorbing that you will sit up far into
the night to finish it. As a love romance it is charming.
=GARTHOWEN.= A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth,
12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
"This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid
bare before us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows
us some strong points of Welsh character--the pride, the hasty
temper, the quick dying out of wrath.... We call this a
well-written story, interesting alike through its romance and
its glimpses into another life than ours. A delightful and
clever picture of Welsh village life. The result is
excellent."--Detroit Free Press.
=MIFANWY.= The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo.
with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
"This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would
care to read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the
characters, it is apparent at once, are as true to life as
though the author had known them all personally. Simple in all
its situations, the story is worked up in that touching and
quaint strain which never grows wearisome, no matter how often
the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true,
and does not tax the imagination."--Boston Herald.
* * * * *
=DARNLEY=, A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey.
By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson
Davis. Price, $1.00.
In point of publication, "Darnley" is that work by Mr. James
which follows "Richelieu," and, if rumor can be credited, it
was owing to the advice and insistence of our own Washington
Irving that we are indebted primarily for the story, the young
author questioning whether he could properly paint the
difference in the characters of the two great cardinals. And it
is not surprising that James should have hesitated; he had been
eminently successful in giving to the world the portrait of
Richelieu as a man, and by attempting a similar task with
Wolsey as the theme, was much like tempting fortune. Irving
insisted that "Darnley" came naturally in sequence, and this
opinion being supported by Sir Walter Scott, the author set
about the work.
As a historical romance "Darnley" is a book that can be taken
up pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that
subtle charm which those who are strangers to the works of G.
P. R. James have claimed was only to be imparted by Dumas.
If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial
attention, the account of the meeting of the kings on the
historic "field of the cloth of gold" would entitle the story
to the most favorable consideration of every reader.
There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the
author has taken care to imagine love passages only between
those whom history has credited with having entertained the
tender passion one for another, and he succeeds in making such
lovers as all the world must love.
=CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE.= By Lieut. Henry A. Wise,
U. S. N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of
sea yarns who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the
ocean as can come through the medium of a printed page, for
never has a story of the sea and those "who go down in ships"
been written by one more familiar with the scenes depicted.
The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered,
and which will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is
"Captain Brand," who, as the author states on his title page,
was a "pirate of eminence in the West Indies." As a sea story
pure and simple, "Captain Brand" has never been excelled, and
as a story of piratical life, told without the usual
embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no equal.
=NICK OF THE WOODS.= A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By
Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier
life in Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The
novel, long out of print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for
its realistic presentation of Indian and frontier life in the
early days of settlement in the South, narrated in the tale
with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charming love
romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition
of "Nick of the Woods" will be certain to make many new
admirers for this enchanting story from Dr. Bird's clever and
versatile pen.
* * * * *
=GUY FAWKES.= A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison
Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank.
Price, $1.00.
The "Gunpowder Plot" was a modest attempt to blow up
Parliament, the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland,
then King of England, was weak-minded and extravagant. He hit
upon the efficient scheme of extorting money from the people by
imposing taxes on the Catholics. In their natural resentment to
this extortion, a handful of bold spirits concluded to
overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested,
and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners
with royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the
entire romance.
=THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER.= A Romance of the Early Settlers in the
Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
A book rather out of the ordinary is this "Spirit of the
Border." The main thread of the story has to do with the work
of the Moravian missionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally
the reader is given details of the frontier life of those hardy
pioneers who broke the wilderness for the planting of this
great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, is
Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time
the most admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives
battling with the savage foe, that others might dwell in
comparative security.
Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian
"Village of Peace" are given at some length, and with minute
description. The efforts to Christianize the Indians are
described as they never have been before, and the author has
depicted the characters of the leaders of the several Indian
tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest to
the student.
By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid
word-pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense
paintings of the beauties of nature, as seen in the almost
unbroken forests.
It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one
can by it, perhaps, the better understand why men, and women,
too, willingly braved every privation and danger that the
westward progress of the star of empire might be the more
certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender, runs
through the book.
=RICHELIEU.= A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G.
P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis.
Price, $1.00.
In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, "Richelieu," and
was recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft.
In this book he laid the story during those later days of the
great cardinal's life, when his power was beginning to wane,
but while it was yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then
of volcanic outbursts which overwhelmed foes and carried
friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. One of the most
striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar's
conspiracy; the method of conducting criminal cases, and the
political trickery resorted to by royal favorites, affording a
better insight into the statecraft of that day than can be had
even by an exhaustive study of history. It is a powerful
romance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling and
absorbing interest has never been excelled.
* * * * *
WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII.,
Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth,
12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.
"Windsor Castle" is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and
Anne Boleyn. "Bluff King Hal," although a well-loved monarch,
was none too good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness
and unwarrantable acts, none was more discreditable than his
divorce from Catharine, and his marriage to the beautiful Anne
Boleyn. The King's love was as brief as it was vehement. Jane
Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him, and Anne
Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor.
This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers.
HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina in
1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J.
Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.
Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as
historical fiction, there are none which appeal to a larger
number of Americans than Horseshoe Robinson, and this because
it is the only story which depicts with fidelity to the facts
the heroic efforts of the colonists in South Carolina to defend
their homes against the brutal oppression of the British under
such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton.
The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the
thread of the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of
detail concerning those times. The picture of the manifold
sufferings of the people, is never overdrawn, but painted
faithfully and honestly by one who spared neither time nor
labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all
that price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as
their share in the winning of the republic.
Take it all in all, "Horseshoe Robinson" is a work which should
be found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most
entertaining story, but because of the wealth of valuable
information concerning the colonists which it contains. That it
has been brought out once more, well illustrated, is something
which will give pleasure to thousands who have long desired an
opportunity to read the story again, and to the many who have
tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they
might read it for the first time.
THE PEARL OF ORR'S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By Harriet
Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.
Written prior to 1862, the "Pearl of Orr's Island" is ever new;
a book filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array
themselves anew each time one reads them. One sees the "sea
like an unbroken mirror all around the pine-girt, lonely shores
of Orr's Island," and straightway comes "the heavy, hollow moan
of the surf on the beach, like the wild angry howl of some
savage animal."
Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara,
which came into this world under the very shadow of the Death
angel's wings, without having an intense desire to know how the
premature bud blossomed? Again and again one lingers over the
descriptions of the character of that baby boy Moses, who came
through the tempest, amid the angry billows, pillowed on his
dead mother's breast.
There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than
that which Mrs. Stowe gives in "The Pearl of Orr's Island."
* * * * *
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by
the publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St., New York.
End of Project Gutenberg's Commodore Barney's Young Spies, by James Otis