THE ESSEX.
"Ship ahoy!" shouted Midshipman David Farragut.
The answer was given by Captain Vernon.
"What ship?" asked Farragut.
"The _Lively Bee_ of Boston."
"Captain Harry Vernon?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
The boat was too far away as yet for the men to be recognized by the
eye, unaided by a glass, and the questions were given in a loud voice
through the speaking horn.
Soon the boat was alongside, and young Farragut swung himself up the
chains to the deck.
David Farragut--the naval hero of the century--was at that time a
bright lad eleven years old.
But, boy as he was, he ordered the old tars about, and was efficient as
an officer.
"We feared it might be a British vessel which sighted us," said Captain
Vernon.
But Farragut did not notice, his eyes were fixed forward where Tempest
was standing.
"Blow me! but isn't that young man Ensign Tempest?" he asked.
"It is Lieutenant John Tempest," answered Vernon.
"Blow me! but it seems promotion is rapid on a privateer. Tempest!"
As Farragut shouted the name, the young man turned, his face crimson,
for he remembered that the last time he had met the midshipman both
were officers of the same ship.
"Mr. Farragut."
"Hoity-toity! How long have I been mister? Am I not still David to you?"
"I hope so?"
"Zounds, man! But your new dignity has made you proud. Don't you ever
think of the capers we used to cut up on the _Essex_? But that was
before I was a midshipman."
"Yes, I remember. Those were happy days. I fear me, though, I am a
Jonah."
Farragut laughed and gave Tempest a hearty smack on the back, making
him wince.
"How did you weather the storm?" asked Vernon.
"We were on the fringe of it. Quite local, you know, so we did not
suffer much."
"Did you fall in with the enemy?"
"Not yet, but we are ready;" and young Farragut had started on a theme
of which he never grew tired.
"Every day," he said, "the crew exercise at the great guns, small
arms, and single stick. Then, they have been so thoroughly trained as
boarders that every man is prepared for such an emergency, with his
cutlass as sharp as a razor, his dirk made out of a file, and a good
pistol. Zounds, Tempest, and you, too, captain, but I hope we shall
whet our blades soon."
Vernon sighed.
"What do you want us to do? Is the _Lively Bee_ a castaway?"
"No, sir. If we can get to port, a week will make her as good as ever."
"Then you want to be towed back?"
"Anywhere will do."
"Captain, come back with me to the _Essex_, and Captain Porter will
arrange with you."
In less than two hours the _Lively Bee_ was being towed by the _Essex_.
Captain Vernon looked to his guns and ammunition, and to his great
satisfaction found that everything was safe and his powder dry.
He rigged up a mast, and before the end of the next day told Captain
Porter he was in no particular hurry about making port, that a few days
would make but little difference.
"I am glad to hear you say that, Vernon, for I believe we shall have a
chance to smell powder within the next forty-eight hours."
"Then I would not think of taking you out of your way."
The _Essex_ was intended for a victor.
Its commander was a fighter, and as good a tactician as ever walked the
deck of a man-of-war.
During the calm he ordered the _Essex_ to be disguised.
The top-gallant masts were housed, the ports of the gun deck closed in,
and her usually trim cordage and nicely-squared yards were set in a way
that only the most shiftless of merchant skippers would tolerate.
Captain Vernon paced the deck of the _Lively Bee_ impatiently.
He did not understand Porter's tactics, and there was nothing jarred
more upon his seaman instincts than a slovenly-set ship.
"Wait a bit," said Tempest. "Porter has set a trap for the British, and
we shall have some hard fighting before long."
And the young officer was right.
Porter sent for Vernon.
"Can you stand alone for a few days?"
"Yes, if need be."
"It will be better. Have your guns ready, but concealed; we will play
the part of merchantmen and give the enemy fits."
"Sail ho!" exclaimed the _Bee's_ lookout.
"Where away?"
"To windward."
The news was signaled to the _Essex_, and it was soon known that a
British war ship was bearing down on the _Essex_.
Commander Porter carried his acting still further.
Instead of the crowd of agile sailors that spring into the rigging of a
man-of-war at the order to make sail, only a mere handful were ordered
by the captain to set with the greatest awkwardness all the sail the
_Essex_ could carry.
Then two long heavy cables were quietly lowered over the stern, and
dragging through the water, retarded the ship's progress.
The Britisher thought he had fallen in with a heavy merchantman which
was making frantic efforts to escape.
When the man-of-war was near enough to perceive the signals, the
_Essex_ warned the _Lively Bee_ to fly before the wind out of the way
of the enemy.
Vernon entered into the spirit of the thing, and instead of escaping,
caused the schooner to drag along as though heavily freighted.
On the deck of the _Essex_ the few sailors seemed excited and flurried,
and the Britisher did not know that every action was assumed.
Had the commander of the English ship been gifted with second sight he
would have seen behind those closed ports a roomy gun deck glistening
with that whiteness seen only on the decks of a well-ordered war ship.
Down either side of the deck stretched a row of heavy carronades, each
with its crew of gunners grouped about the breach, and each shotted
and primed ready for the opening volley.
On a man-of-war in time of action no one can be idle.
Hence on this occasion, from the magazine amidships to the gun deck,
there reached a line of stewards, cooks, waiters and extra deck hands,
ready to pass up cartridges.
Bare-footed boys, stripped naked to the waist, were skurrying about the
deck.
These were the "powder-monkeys," whose duty it would be, when the
firing began, to take the cartridges from the line of powder passers
and carry them to the guns.
On the spar deck only a few sailors and officers were visible to the
enemy.
But under the taffrail lay crouched scores of jackies, wearing blue
uniforms, and smooth-faced middies and veteran lieutenants, ready at
the word of command to spring into the rigging, or to swarm over the
side and board the enemy should the gunwales of the vessels touch.
The English man-of-war knew nothing of all this preparation.
The British captain was exultant and hoisted a flag bearing a large
figure "7," meaning that his ship had captured that number of American
merchantmen.
In a few minutes the signal, "Haul too," was raised, but perhaps the
Americans did not understand it, so the Britisher fired a gun.
Still no notice was taken, but the _Essex_ gave the appearance of
renewed exertion to escape, while the _Lively Bee_ kept signaling
for assistance. The two vessels were near enough for the most minute
signals to be understood, and the Britisher declared that he would add
two more prizes to his conquests before the day was out, meaning the
_Essex_ and the _Bee_.
Three ringing cheers were given by the British crew, and the Union Jack
was run up the mast.
At the same time a broadside was fired at the _Essex_.
In an instant the ports of the sham merchantman were knocked out; and,
with warlike thunder, the heavy carronades hurled their ponderous shots
against the side of the war ship. Before the Britisher could reply the
_Lively Bee_ had sent a shot careening over the enemy's deck, killing
the first lieutenant and two of the men. The English ship replied but
feebly. The men of the _Essex_ and _Lively Bee_ fired too quickly and
too accurately for much resistance, and in less than eight minutes
after the engagement opened the British hauled down their flag.
The captured ship proved to be the sloop-of-war _Alert_, mounting
twenty eighteen-pound carronades.
The boarding officer found her badly cut up, and seven feet of water in
the hold. The officers were sent on board the _Essex_, and the _Alert_
taken in tow.
The victory was complete, but hardly one to be exultant over, as
the _Essex_ was superior both in size and armaments to the _Alert_.
However, the _Essex_ has the honor of having the first British war
ship.