HAULING DOWN THE FLAG OF ENGLAND.
"Ah! you have come with an old flint-lock, have you?" said the
sharpshooter as Enoch knelt beside him. "Do you think you can hit one of
those Britishers working about that gun? Now look here: Sight your gun
right there," he continued, making a mark with his thumb nail across the
barrel. "Of course if they were in any reasonable distance that would
throw the ball away over their heads; but we don't want to kill them so
much as we want to scare them. Now try it at that."
Enoch drew up his flint-lock and one to have seen him would have thought
that he meant to shoot at the cross-trees. Just then a Britisher ran
forward with a cartridge in his hand to insert in the gun, but Enoch was
waiting for him. The flint-lock roared, and the man stopped, dropped his
cartridge to the deck and hurried aft holding his right hand as if he
were very tender of it. The old sailor had made his sights just right.
"That's the way to do it," he exclaimed, stopping in his progress of
driving a ball home long enough to pat Enoch on the head. "Throw the
balls about their ears. That will frighten them even if it does not hurt
them, and what we want is to keep them from firing that gun. Now let me
see if I will have as good luck as I did before."
"That is to pay him for capturing Caleb," said Enoch. "I wish I knew
where he is now. I don't want to send my bullets into the hull for fear
that I will hit him."
The sailor tried it again and with just as good fortune as he had the
previous time. Another Britisher caught up the cartridge and was going
to put it into the gun, but he also dropped it and lay on the deck where
he had stood. By this time all the sloop's men who had guns were
congregated in the bow, and before they had all fired one round the gun
was deserted.
"I knew we would put a stop to that," said the man who had fired the
first shot. "Hold her to it, Zeke. We are gaining on her."
But Captain Moore was not yet whipped. He had three guns on a broadside
which had not yet come into play, and all of a sudden his sails were let
out and the schooner veered around to bring them into action. Before he
had got fairly into position three flint-locks roared and two men
dropped, one dead and the other seriously wounded. But the captain took
up the position he wanted all the same, and the order to fire came
distinctly to Enoch's ears. He thought he had never heard such a roar
before as those little guns made when they were turned loose on the
sloop. He thought his time had come, and held his breath expecting every
instant to be his last. But the shells all flew wild. Not one of them
came near the sloop. The provincials straightened up and fired three
more bullets at the men who worked the guns, but the schooner was so
obscured by the smoke of her cannons that they could not see what havoc
they had made.
During this maneuver on the part of the pursued, the sloop had gained
amazingly, and now they were within earshot of the Britishers. Thinking
to avoid the further effusion of blood by prolonging the fighting
Captain O'Brien called out--
"Do you surrender?"
"No!" returned Captain Moore's voice. "We will surrender when the last
plank goes down."
And Captain Moore showed that he was in earnest. Almost with the words
he lighted a hand-grenade which he carried in his arms, and threw it
toward O'Brien. It did not come half way to the sloop but it exploded
with stunning force and gave the provincials some idea of what was in
store for them.
"Bring us alongside, Zeke," exclaimed Captain O'Brien, so impatient that
he could not stand still. "If you can not manage her let somebody else
go to the wheel."
"Bussin' on it, captain, I am doing the best I can," replied Zeke,
working the wheel back and forth as if he hoped in that way to get some
more speed out of her. "She will be alongside in five minutes."
But those five minutes were a long time to wait. The flint-locks were in
close range now, and every time one of them spoke some body on the
Britisher's side went down. It did not seem as though they had men
enough to stand such a fusilade. Captain O'Brien was standing there with
a rope in his hand, and when he had got it all coiled up he stepped over
and took his place among the men who had flint-locks in their hands.
"Now, boys, protect me," said he. "Whenever our boat comes near enough I
am going to catch the schooner and lash them fast. Enoch, go back and
pick off the man at the wheel."
The boy started at once and without making any reply. He kept along
close under the rail to be out of range of any one who was watching him
from the schooner's deck, and when he came within sight of Zeke he was
horrified to find him with his face all covered with blood.
"Oh Zeke, they have hit you," exclaimed Enoch.
"Don't I know that?" replied the wheelman, who stuck to his work as
though there was nothing the matter with him. "But as long as they do
not get me down I am going to stand up. Do you see that man alongside
the schooner's wheel? Well he is the one that shot me."
Enoch took just one glance at the schooner and saw that the man referred
to had just loaded his pistol and was now engaged in priming it. He cast
frequent glances toward Zeke and grinned at him the while as if to tell
him that his second shot would go to the mark; but he did not take
notice of Enoch who, kneeling down behind the rail, brought his gun to
bear on him. It spoke almost immediately, and the man dropped his
pistol, turned part way around and sank down lifeless where he stood.
"There!" exclaimed Zeke. "That was a good shot. Now see if you can get
that man at the wheel. That will leave her without any guiding hand, and
before she can bring another man to helm I may be able to come up with
her."
"I was sent here for that purpose," said Enoch, rolling over on his back
and reaching for his powder-horn. "I am going to pick off every man they
send there."
In a few minutes the gun was ready, after trying in vain to retain his
hold of the spokes, the steersman went down in a heap. Of course the
schooner came into the wind, and Zeke uttered a yell as she veered round
broadside to the sloop; and in a moment more there was a rush of men
from the deck and Enoch and Zeke were standing alone.
"Boarders away!" shouted Captain O'Brien, as he made the two vessels
fast together. "Now, boys, show what you're are made of."
Zeke released his hold of the wheel, and caught up his club which stood
beside him where he could get his hands upon it at a moment's warning;
he cleared the rails of the vessels without using his hands, and Enoch
lost sight of him in the fracas. Somehow, Enoch could not have told how
it happened, he was close at his heels when he reached the schooner's
deck, and between using his gun as a club to fell a man to the deck and
making use of it as a parry to ward off a blow that somebody aimed at
his head, he did not know anything more until he heard a voice exclaim
in piteous accents:
"I surrender! I surrender!"
"Who is that?" shouted Captain O'Brien. "Do you all surrender? If you
do, throw down your weapons."
[Illustration: The Capture of the Schooner.]
There was a sound of dropping hand-spikes and cutlasses, and in an
instant there was silence on the deck. The smoke of the hand-grenades
with which the boarders had been greeted floated away after a while, and
then the provincials were able to see what they had done and how great
was the number of men that they had to mourn. Enoch was astounded. It
did not seem possible for him to step in any direction without treading
upon the body of friend or foe. The two bodies of men opposed to each
other were about thirty on a side, and at least half that number were
lying on the deck dead, or wounded so badly that they could not get up.
He looked everywhere for Captain Moore, and finally found him with a
saber-cut in his side. His first action had proved his death.
"Now the next thing is Caleb," said Enoch, starting toward the gangway
to go below. "I hope that nothing has happened to him."
Enoch did not want to go on talking to himself in this way, for
something told him that he might find his friend Caleb cold in death.
He knew where the brig was and hurried down to it, and on the way he
found half a dozen men who were wounded and the doctor and his assistant
attending to their wants. It was a horrible sight, and Enoch turned away
his head that he might not see it. A few steps brought him to the brig,
and there was a hand stuck out to grasp his own. It was Caleb sure
enough, and no signs of a wound on him. He was as jolly and full of fun
as ever.
"Enoch, old boy, I knew you would not rest easy until you had got me,"
said Caleb. "Put it there."
"Are you not hurt a bit?" asked Enoch. He almost dreaded to ask the
question for some how he seemed to think that no living boy could come
out of that fight without being desperately wounded. Enoch did not stop
to think of himself. He appeared to know that he was going to come out
all right.
"Open the door and let me out," repeated Caleb, taking hold of the
grating in front of him and shaking it with all his strength. "I have
been in here long enough."
"Who has got the key?" asked Enoch. "If I can't find the key I shall
have to chop the grating down."
"Do you know the boatswain?"
Enoch shook his head.
"Well, he is the one that has the key, and you will have to find him in
order to get it. Say!" said Caleb, seizing his friend by the arm and
pulling him up close to him. "I ought to 'start' that fellow. He was
going to be awful mean to me if we had started for New York. Why don't
you go and get the key?"
Enoch went but he did not know where he was going to find the boatswain.
At the head of the gangway he met a Britisher coming down with his arm
in a sling, and he asked him if he could show the man to him.
"Yes, I can," said the sailor. "He has gone to Davy's locker sure. I'll
bet he won't start me any more. Come on and I will show him to you."
Enoch followed him to the deck and there, where the British had gathered
to meet the boarders from the sloop and but a little way from his
captain, lay the boatswain with an ugly thrust from a cutlass near his
heart. By feeling of his pockets on the outside Enoch soon discovered
his bunch of keys, and he soon had possession of them.
"You will not get a chance at that boatswain on this trip," said Enoch,
as he proceeded to open the door. "He has gone where he can't hurt you
nor anybody else by 'starting' him. He is killed."
He opened the door and Caleb fairly jumped into his arms. After they had
embraced each other for a minute or two Caleb asked after his mother.
"Of course she felt very bad to know that you had been taken prisoner,
but she did not cry," said Enoch. "I told her that when I came back
to-night I should fetch you with me, and I am going to keep my promise."
"Let us go on deck and see how things look up there," said Caleb. "You
had a lively time taking this boat. I never heard such a roar as these
guns made."
If Caleb, when he was down below, thought things were lively, what must
he have thought when he came out of the gangway and saw the number of
men that had been killed and wounded during the fight! Almost the first
man he saw was Captain Moore.
"How many men did you have on each side?" he asked in astonishment. "Did
you shoot that old flint-lock of yours?"
"I did, but I shot to maim, not to kill. I couldn't do it. No doubt they
would have used me worse than we will them, but you see they did not get
the chance. There's Wheaton pulling down the flag. Let us go up and hear
what he has to say."
The flag was already down and Wheaton was folding it up tenderly to
carry it under his arm. Probably if it had been an American flag and the
victory had been the other way, there would not have been so much
attention shown it by the Britishers who pulled it down. Wheaton shook
Caleb by the hand, asked him how he had fared as a prisoner in the power
of the enemies of his country and said as he gathered up the flag--
"Captain O'Brien says that this is the first time this flag has ever
been hauled down by a foe to England. She has made everybody strike to
her, but _she_ has struck to nobody. It would not have been pulled down
now if she had treated us right. She will find before she gets through
with it that a little flock of Yankees, to which her troops came so near
to surrendering at Lexington, are as good as they make them. We have met
them, man for man, and whipped them all."