THE HARWICH PACKET
The next day proved clear and fine, and also the following day, but
no sail of importance, so far as small craft were concerned, was
discovered. Such vessels as were passed that flew the English ensign
were too big to be reckoned with or too near armed escort; but on the
morning of the 4th of the month, off the coast of Holland, a little
single-sticker, a cutter, was discovered bowling merrily along from the
westward, and from what the Surprise’s French pilot said it was plain
that she was the very one for which Captain Conyngham was watching--the
Harwich packet, that bore the mails for the north of Europe, usually
carrying, besides crown moneys, a small but rich cargo.
The rules of the road at sea have been from time immemorial practically
the same for sailing ships, and a vessel close hauled has the right of
way of one going free on the wind. When the packet was first sighted
she was running with the wind almost astern and making good time, as
she tossed the white foam before her. Now, the Surprise was close
hauled on the starboard tack, and it would have required but a little
careful sailing to bring her across the packet’s bows. The latter had
flown a large English ensign, but Conyngham had shown no flag at all,
although the big red and white striped ensign with the rattlesnake
across the field lay on the deck ready to be hoisted to the peak.
Nearer and nearer the two vessels came. The helmsman on the packet was
evidently perplexed as to the intentions of the approaching lugger,
for he had swung his vessel off in order to give the latter room to
cross his forefoot. But every time he did so the Surprise would luff
a little, for it was Conyngham’s intention to get close under the
packet’s stern and board her if possible without firing a shot.
The trick worked like magic. In a few minutes the Englishman was so
close that the features of the helmsman could be seen distinctly.
He was not in the least suspicious, for he gazed in silence at the
approaching lugger, contemptuously smiling at her apparently clumsy
sailing.
A man who had been walking up and down the deck came to the rail as if
he supposed that the Surprise was about to hail him, and making ready
to answer.
Conyngham had kept his men below well out of sight, though they were
all armed with pistols and cutlasses ready to rush on deck at a given
signal. Just before he came under the Englishman’s stern, he let go
his sheets and swinging off suddenly, his bowsprit swept over the
stranger’s taffrail, beneath which appeared the words “Prince of
Orange” in big red letters. The cutter, whose sails, now deprived of
the wind, flapped uselessly, lost headway. Another second, and the
Surprise struck so gently that it hardly started the paint on her
cutwater, a grapple was thrown on board, and from the forward hatch a
score of men poured over the bows upon the other’s deck.
Captain Baxter, the English skipper, was in the cabin at breakfast
with five passengers, four of them merchants and one a young secretary
bearing dispatches to the Dutch Government, when the mate shouted
through the transom that a strange vessel had run afoul of them, and
that they were being boarded by pirates!
“Great heavens!” exclaimed one of the merchants in consternation.
“Pirates in the English Channel! Bless my soul, never!”
Before Captain Baxter could gain the foot of the companion-ladder a
figure stepped into the cabin.
“Who are you, and what are you doing aboard my vessel?” roared the
captain, reaching for a cutlass that hung from one of the berths that
lined the sides.
“Hold! not so fast, my friend,” was the quiet answer. “Sure, it’s much
better to take no unnecessary trouble. And my advice to you is to be as
quiet as a mouse.”
As he spoke, Conyngham shifted his hand to the butt of a pistol that
protruded from under his long blue coat.
Though his words were lightly spoken, the Englishman saw a dangerous
gleam in the captain’s dark eyes, and stood still, muttering.
“Are you a pirate?” he demanded, hoarsely, at last.
“Far from that,” answered Conyngham, smiling and advancing farther
into the little space. “If the gentlemen will seat themselves, I shall
be glad to inform you of the circumstances. You are prisoners of the
American cruiser Surprise, that I have the honor to command. But you
need fear nothing, I assure you.”
[Illustration: A score of men poured over the bows.]
“What is your name and under whose authority are you acting?” demanded
the young under-secretary, who had now found his tongue.
“My name is Conyngham,” was the reply, “and I am acting under authority
of the president of the American Congress.”
“You will hang for it,” interposed one of the merchants. “I shall
complain to the Government--such an outrage, and in the English
Channel, too!”
Conyngham smiled.
“You can write a letter to the Times if you see fit, my good sir,” he
replied, “but at present there is no use of being bad-natured. Don’t
allow me to disturb you in your meal, as I see you’ve just begun.”
At this moment a slight scuffle and some loud words came from the deck
above. The captain again started to his feet.
“They’re securing the crew,” Conyngham said in explanation. “There is
no use in making a fuss over the matter; we’re in complete possession.
Be easy now.”
Just as he spoke the lank figure of the Yankee second mate appeared at
the foot of the ladder. He saluted Conyngham, and grinned at the others
as if enjoying their discomfiture.
“I have to report, sir, that all’s well, and await your orders. There
is one man we had to put into irons; the rest submitted quietly.”
“You see how matters stand, gentlemen,” Conyngham went on, “and before
we cast off our lashings I shall have to ask you to accompany me to my
vessel.”
“A most high-handed proceeding,” muttered the English merchant.
But his protestations were interrupted by the young secretary at this
point.
“It’s always best,” said he, “to accept a bad position gracefully, and
I am sure if this gentleman,” he waved his hand toward Conyngham, “will
allow us to remain on board here we shall much appreciate the favor. As
for myself,” he added, “I will promise not to endeavor to escape. I am
a bad swimmer at the best, and if our gallant friend, who, I perceive,
at some time or other has been a subject of his Majesty, will permit
it, we should like to remain.”
“You certainly can do so, sir,” was the quiet reply, “and need not fear
that I will disturb you; but as you seem to have lost your appetites,
I shall first ask that you all come on deck.” With a polite bow he
ushered the party to the companionway.
Perhaps he had divined the young Englishman’s purpose. At all events,
the suspicion had crossed his mind that the latter only wished
to obtain time to secrete or destroy some of the papers in the
dispatch-box that showed beneath a locker on one side of the cabin.
With some show of discontent, the party followed his suggestions,
however, and went up on deck. Once there they could not conceal their
surprise at the state of affairs. There was the strange vessel, that
was but slightly larger than their own, still made fast to them, and
rippling almost overhead was the big rattlesnake flag. Perhaps, despite
Conyngham’s assurance, they had expected to see the Jolly Roger with
the skull and cross-bones, and they were to all appearances relieved.
The English crew were all under hatches forward, and no one was in
sight but five or six of the Surprise’s crew, who, to tell the truth,
were piratical enough in appearance to belie even the striped flag.
Leaving a guard over his guests, Conyngham went below with the first
mate and began a search of the cabin. When he came on deck again he
plainly perceived the importance of his prize. But a complication had
arisen that made him form his plans quickly. It would never do to delay
the mails or interfere with the diplomatic correspondence intended
for a friendly power, and there were letters for Prussia and Holland,
besides those addressed to the British ambassador at Paris. The private
property of the merchants was unmolested, but a report showed that the
contents of the hold was of no little value, and under the usages of
war it would be fair booty. So Conyngham ordered that Captain Baxter
should accompany him on board the Surprise, and with ill grace the
latter did so. After giving orders to the first mate, whom he left in
command of the Prince of Orange, Conyngham ordered the two vessels to
be cast loose from each other, and the course was laid southeast by
east for Dunkirk once again. He realized that there would be a great
row made upon his landing, but in view of the connivance of the French
Government at the sale of the prizes brought in by Captain Wickes,
that were allowed to be disposed of just outside the harbor limits of
Nantes, he thought that with the aid of Franklin’s growing importance
at the French court the Government would be more than lenient with him.
He supposed at least they would allow him an opportunity to dispose of
the vessel and its contents for what the commissioners in Paris most
needed, namely, gold; and, thinking that he would place himself in a
good position to ask any favors by his conduct in connection with
the foreign mails, he held no anxiety concerning himself or his crew.
Besides all this, he knew that in the commission that he held from
Franklin he possessed a talisman that would save him from personal
danger.
It had been his hope that he might fall in with one of the transports
then engaged in carrying Hessian troops to America, and in the latter
case he had decided upon two alternatives: one to make a prize of their
vessel, even at the risk of recapture, and endeavor to get her into
some American port, or to land them disarmed on the coast of France
or Holland. But even the prospect of making another rich haul did not
tempt him to remain longer on the cruising grounds. So, under all the
sail he could carry, he laid his course for Dunkirk, the Prince of
Orange staggering along in his wake.
That night it came on to blow, and in the darkness the two vessels were
separated, so that at daylight of the next day nothing could be seen of
the prize. The Channel was a gray, seething mass of flattened foam-tops.
At about noon a little brig was discovered laboring along making to the
westward. The Surprise altered her course, and early in the afternoon
had ranged alongside.
The wind was too high and the cross seas too boisterous to admit
of lowering a boat, and the hails that were shouted through the
speaking-trumpet could not be heard, so a shot was fired across the
brig’s bow in order to make her show her flag. It was English! As soon
as this was ascertained to be a fact, Captain Conyngham sailed boldly
in under her lee, and once more the rattlesnake and the red and white
stripes were tossed to the wind.
Another hail, accompanied by a second shot across the brig’s bows, and
she hove to, lurching and plunging. By working his vessel in still
closer, even at the danger of colliding, Conyngham at last made himself
understood, and on the threat of blowing the brig out of the water her
captain obeyed the order to put her about and lay the course he was
instructed to. At the same time he was told to hang a lantern over
the stern and keep it lit all night. Then, like a constable following
an unwilling prisoner, the Surprise trailed along, shortening sail
in order to keep her position, and the brig, yawing and swinging
uncomfortably as if loath to be on the move, preceded her. Before dark
the wind had gone down and the sea abated enough for Conyngham to lower
a boat and board his prize. She proved to be the Joseph, the property
of English merchants, laden with silks and wine and bound for London.
Placing a prize crew on board of her, this time the Surprise took the
lead, and sailing noticeably better, the brig followed her. When day
broke they were but a few leagues off the coast to the northward of
Dunkirk, and to Conyngham’s delight he perceived a small vessel just to
the south of him, and through the glass he could make her out to be the
captured packet!
So good fortune had attended his first cruise, and with a hopeful and
cheerful heart he sailed into the harbor. With his prizes close on
either hand, he dropped anchor near to shore. Little did he know what
a storm was to arise or what was to happen during the next few days.
Perhaps if he had known, he would not have thought so much about the
European mails.