THE DEPARTURE.
Out in the bay the American fleet was preparing to depart.
Commodore Rodgers had just heard of the declaration of war, and he was
afraid that the order to detain him in the harbor would be signed and
delivered to him before he could start.
He called Captains Bainbridge and Stewart and Porter to the flagship
and asked abruptly:
"How long before you can sail?"
"Ready now, sir," was Stewart's answer.
Rodgers was blunt and always spared himself words.
"Do you want to fight on the high seas or skulk like old hulks in the
harbor?" he asked, and added quickly: "You need not answer. I know
you well. Go back, get ready; we will start within an hour, and once
outside the Narrows, no President's order can reach us."
The captains swung themselves over the side and were rowed back to
their vessels.
It was a pretty sight. Those "wooden walls" of Columbia, in all the
bravery of trimly taut rigging, yards crossed in mathematically precise
order, hulls newly painted, ports open to reveal the lines of frowning
guns, presented a sight which was enough to rouse the enthusiasm of
every patriot on land.
The fleet under the command of Commodore Rodgers consisted of
the flagship _President_, carrying forty-four guns; the _Essex_,
thirty-two, and the _Hornet_, eighteen.
These three vessels were anchored off the Battery, but they did not
comprise the entire fleet, for over against what is now Liberty Island
were three more, the _United States_, mounting forty-four guns, a
sister-ship to the _President_; the _Congress_, thirty-eight, and the
_Argus_, sixteen.
Fifty minutes only elapsed after the conference on the flagship before
the entire fleet was under sail.
"Come, my boys," said Captain Vernon, "we have to overtake the _Lively
Bee_ before she reaches the Narrows, and it is a long pull."
Vernon took the helm, young Tempest the bow oar, and a tough old salt
the oar next him.
It was not until they were seated that Tempest saw the face of the
sailor next him, and at once took a fancy to him.
Captain Vernon gave the command in a loud, ringing voice:
"Oars down! Give way!"
The oars fell into the water with splendid precision, and the boat made
a spurt forward.
"You will find, Mr. Tempest, that on board the _Lively Bee_ we have
such discipline that we move like machines."
All the rowers bent to their work, and the captain cheered them with
words of praise.
At times he would pretend to be angry.
"You lazy lubbers, are you asleep? Come, rouse up, or we'll never reach
the _Lively Bee_."
The men did pull with more spirit after every outburst of grumbling or
reprimand.
Governor's Island was passed, the little boat was saluted by the
captain of the _Essex_, and Vernon felt proud.
"Tom Mullen, start us a good rousing chorus--that one you sang when we
chased the French."
Tempest was surprised, for he had not known that the new sailor was
known to the captain, or had sailed with him against the French.
The rough old salt, in a voice which had more of the nature of a fog
horn than a human being, started singing:
"Americans, then fly to arms,
And learn the way to use 'em;
If each man fights to 'fend his rights,
The English can't abuse 'em.
Yankee Doodle--mind the tune--
Yankee Doodle Dandy;
For Britons there's trouble brewin'--
We'll spank 'em, hard and handy."
All joined in the chorus, and Tempest looked surprised, for he had all
the prejudices of the navy against the lax discipline of a privateer or
merchantman.
"I changed my gaff a little, cap'n, for we ain't a-fightin' Johnny
Crapaud any more, but the redcoats," said Mullen, well pleased with
himself for having inserted the word English for French in the doggerel.
"You did right, Tom, and if we all fight as well as you sing we'll come
back with our pockets full of chinks and a lot of British prizes in
tow."
The _Lively Bee_ was still a long way ahead, and Captain Vernon shouted
to the rowers:
"Now my hearties, don't get stiff-backed. Crack the oars! Now, then,
bend away!"
The day was hot. Those on shore were bathed in perspiration.
Had thermometers been so plentiful in the streets then as they are now
they would have told the sweating crowd that ninety degrees in the
shade had been reached.
But if standing still, watching the great war vessels sail lazily out
of the harbor, was hot work, what must those sailors in the captain's
boat have experienced as they rowed through the waters of the bay at
racing speed.
"You lazy lubbers, I guess you think you're in church with your wives,
and can go to sleep. Rouse up, will you, and land me on the _Lively
Bee_."
Tempest thought he had never been so hot before. He was not afraid of
work, he expected it.
He had entered as a man before the mast, and he knew a dog's life was
one to be envied when compared with that of a common seaman.
The most barbarous cruelties were practiced on sailors; they were
not treated to any consideration, and therefore John Tempest was not
surprised at the hard work he had to endure.
He was ready to drop with the heat and fatigue, but he would not allow
the captain to see he was tired.
The Narrows were reached before the boat overtook the _Lively Bee_, and
the waters of the Lower Bay were entered before the captain and his men
stood on the deck of the famous schooner.
The crew saluted the captain, who responded warmly, and then bade
Tempest follow him to the cabin.