THE MEN BEHIND THE TIMES
Out of the north they came in their grimy, bluff-bowed ships—the men behind the times! Three years away from home; three years outside the movement of human government, of family life, ignorant of the news of the world.
The years 1811 and 1812 were remarkable ones in the annals of the whaling industry; vessels that had been cruising for months unrewarded managed to fill their holds, and now, deep laden, they were returning from the whaling grounds, singly or often in companies of a half-score or more. They were ugly vessels, broad and clumsy, with heavy spars and great wooden davits. They stenched of blubber and whale oil, and they oozed in the warm sun as they labored southward, out of the realms of ice and night into the rolling waters of the Pacific. They buffeted the tempestuous weather of the Horn and climbed slowly northward along the coasts of the Western hemisphere.
Sailing together homeward bound for New England in the fall of the year was a fleet of these Arctic whalers—no matter their exact number or their destinations. For the beginning, let it suffice that the vessel farthest to the west was the good shipBlazing Starof New Bedford.
Captain Ezra Steele, her skipper, had made a mental calculation, and he knew exactly the profits that would accrue to him from the sale of the barrels of sperm oil that now filled the deep hold of his ship. It was his custom in fine weather to count these barrels and to go over all these calculations again and again. He was a part owner of theBlazing Star, and he had made up his mind exactly what he was going to do with the proceeds of this cruise. He knew that just about this time of the year, his wife and many other wives, and some who hoped to be, would be watching for the sight of welcome sails. The Captain wondered if his daughter Jennie would accept young Amos Jordan's offer of marriage. He and Amos had talked it over. Amos was his first mate now, and the Captain had been thinking of staying at home and sending the young man out in command of theBlazing Star'snext cruise; but perhaps Jennie, who had a will of her own, had married; or who knows what might have occurred? It is now late October of the year 1812, and a great deal can happen in three years, be it recorded.
Captain Ezra had all the sail that she could carry crowded on the stiff, stubby yards of his vessel. He was anxious to get home again, but the wind had been baffling for some days, hauling about first one way, then another. Now, however, they were getting well to the north, and the continued mildness of the air showed that probably they had entered the waters of the Gulf Stream. The Captain was dressed in a long-tailed coat and yellow cloth breeches thrust into heavy cowhide boots that had become almost pulpy from constant soaking in the sperm oil. He noiselessly paced the deck, now and then looking over the side to see how she was going.
The oldBlazing Starcreaked ahead with about the same motion and general noise of it that an oxcart makes when swaying down a hill. From the quarter-deck eight or ten other vessels, every one lumbering along under a press of stained and much-patched canvas, could be seen, and a few were almost within hailing distance. All were deep laden; every one had been successful.
"Waal," said the Captain to himself, "if this wind holds as 'tis, we'll make Bedford light together in about three weeks."
The nearest vessel to theBlazing Starwas the oldElijah Mason. She had made so many last voyages, and had been condemned so many times, and then tinkered up and sent out again, that it always was a matter of surprise to the worthy gentlemen who owned her when she came halting along with her younger sisters at the end of a successful cruise. Her present captain, Samuel Tobin Dewey, who had sailed a letter of marque during the Revolution, was a bosom friend of Captain Steele. Many visits had they exchanged, and many a bottle of rare old Medford rum had they broached together. As Captain Ezra turned the side, he saw that they were lowering a boat from theElijah Mason, and that a thick, short figure was clambering down to it. So he stepped to the skylight, and leaning over, shouted into the cabin.
"Hey, Amos!" he called, "Captain Dewey's comin' over to take dinner with us. Tell that lazy Portugee to make some puddin' and tell him to get some bread scouse ready for the crew. We'll keep 'em here for comp'ny for our lads."
In a few minutes he had welcomed Captain Dewey, who, although almost old enough to remember when his ship had made her maiden voyage, was ruddy and stout in his timbers and keen of voice and eye. But by the time that a man has been three years cooped up in one vessel, his conversational powers are about at their lowest ebb; every one knows all of the other's favorite yarns by heart, and so the greeting was short and the conversation in the cabin of theBlazing Starwas limited. It was with a feeling of relief that the captains heard the news brought to them by a red-headed, unshaven boy of seventeen, that there was a strange sail in sight to the northwest. The two skippers came on deck at once. About four miles away they could make out a vessel heaving up and down, her sails flapping and idle. For, a common occurrence at sea, she lay within a streak of calm. Her presence had probably been kept from being known before by the slight mist that hung over the sea to the west and north. The long, easy swells were ruffled by the slight wind that filled the sails of the whaling fleet, and were dimpled to a darker color. But where the stranger lay there was a smooth even path of oily calm. Beyond her some miles the wind was blowing in an opposite direction. She lay between the breezes, not a breath touching her.
"What d'ye make her out to be, Ezra?" asked Captain Dewey, his fingers twitching anxiously in his eagerness to take hold of the glass through which Captain Steele was squinting.
"Man-o'-war, brig," responded the taller man. "Sure's you're born, sir."
"You're jest right," responded Dewey, after he had taken aim with the telescope. "I'll bet her captain's mad, seein' us carryin' this breeze, an' she in the doldrums. We'll pass by her within three mile, I reckon. She may hang on thar all day long an' never git this slant of wind at all. Wonder what she's doin aout here, anyhow?"
In about ten minutes Captain Ezra picked up the glass again. "Hello!" he said. "By Dondy! they've lowered away a boat, an' they are rowin' off as if to meet us. Wonder what's the row?" A tiny speck could be seen with the naked eye, making out from the stretch of quiet water. The crew of theBlazing Starhad sighted her also, and at the prospect of something unusual to break the monotony, had lined the bulwarks. Suddenly as the boat lifted into the sunlight on the top of a wave, there came a flash and a glint of some bright metal. In a few minutes it showed again. Captain Ezra picked up the glass.
"By gum!" he exclaimed; "that boat's chuck full of men all armed. What in the name of Tophet can it mean?"
"Dunno—I'd keep off a little," suggested Captain Dewey.
The helmsman gave the old creaking wheel a spoke or two in response to the Captain's order.
"She's baound to meet us anyhow," put in the lanky skipper. "What had we better dew?"
"Got any arms on board?" inquired Dewey. "Look suspicshus. Think I's better be gettin' back to my old hooker," he added half to himself.
Amos Jordan, the first mate, was standing close by. "I reckon we've got some few," he said.
"Git 'em aout," ordered the Captain, laconically; "and, Cap'n Sam, you stay here with us, won't ye?"
Amos started forward. In a few minutes he had produced four old muskets, and a half-dozen rusty cutlasses. But there were deadlier weapons yet on board, of which there were a plenty. Keen-pointed lances, that had done to death many a great whale; and harpoons, with slender shanks and heads sharp as razors. And there were strong arms which knew well how to use them. The Captain went into the cabin and came back with three great, clumsy pistols. One he slipped under his long-tailed coat, and the two others he gave to Captain Dewey and Amos Jordan. There were twenty men in theBlazing Star'sown crew. The visitors from the old whaler added five more, and with the three mates and the two captains, five more again. In all there were thirty men prepared to receive the mysterious rowboat, and receive her warmly should anything be belligerent in her mission.
"I dunno what they want," said Captain Ezra; "but to my mind it don't look right."
"Jesso, jesso," assented Captain Samuel.
A plan was agreed upon; a very simple one. The men were to keep well hid behind the bulwarks, and if the small boat proved unfriendly, she was to be warned off the side, and if she persisted in trying to board, then they were to give her a proper reception. The suspense would not be long. The boat was now so close that the number of men in her could be counted distinctly. There were eighteen in all, for the stern sheets were seen to be crowded. The brig at this moment lay in her own little calm, about two miles directly off the starboard beam. The rest of the whaling fleet had noticed her, and had sighted the approach of the armed cutter also. They were edging off to the eastward, evidently hailing one another and huddling close together. But theBlazing Star, with just enough wind to move her, held her course.
All was suppressed excitement, for the armed small craft was now within a half a cable's length. "Ship ahoy!" hailed an officer in a short, round jacket, standing up. "Heave to there; I want to board you!"
"Waal," drawled Captain Ezra, through his nose, "I dunno as I shall. What d'ye want?"
There was no response to this; the officer merely turned to his crew: "Give way!" he ordered, and in half a dozen strokes the cutter had slid under theBlazing Star'squarter. The man in the bow turned and made fast to the main chains with a boat-hook. Captain Steele was smoking an old corncob pipe. He looked to be the most peaceful soul in the world as he stepped to the gangway, but under his long coat-tails his hand grasped the old horse-pistol. Several heads now showed above the bulwarks. The strange officer, who had evidently not expected to see so many, hesitated. Captain Ezra blew a vicious puff of smoke from between his firm lips.
"Better keep off the side," he said; "we don't want ye on board; who be ye, anyhow?"
"Damn your insolence, I'll show you!" cursed the stranger. "On board here, all you men!" He sprang forward. Captain Ezra did not pull his pistol. He stepped back half a pace and his eye gleamed wickedly. The unknown had almost come on board when he was met full in the chest by the heel of Captain Ezra's cowhide boot. Now the Captain's legs were very long and strong, and aided by the firm grasp he had on both sides of the gangway, the gentleman in the round, brass-buttoned jacket flew through the air over the heads of his crew in the boat below and plumped into the water on the other side. One of the men in the boat instantly drew a pistol and fired straight at the Captain's head—the ball whistled through his old straw hat! But that shot decided matters. It was answered by the four old rusty muskets, the last one hanging fire so long that there was a perceptible time between the flash in the pan, and the report. Two men fell over on the thwarts of the small boat. The man who had fired the pistol sank back, pierced through and through by the slender shank of a harpoon. But the crowning effect of this attempt to repel boarders occurred just at this minute. A spare anchor, that had been on deck close to the bulwarks, caught the eye of Amos Jordan. "Here, bear a hand!" he cried, and with the help of three others he hove the heavy iron over the bulwarks. It struck full on the cutter's bows, and crushed them as a hammer would an eggshell. The shock threw most of the occupants from off the thwarts; the boat filled so quickly that in an instant they were struggling in the water—one man gained the deck, but a blow on the head from the butt of Captain Dewey's pistol laid him out senseless. One of theMason'screw hurled a lance at one of the helpless figures in the water. It missed him by a hair's-breath.
"Avast that!" roared Captain Ezra. "We don't want to do more murder!"
The officer who had been projected into the deep by the Captain's well-timed kick had grasped the gunwales of the sunken boat. His face was deathly white; thirteen of his crew had managed to save themselves by laying hold with him. One of them was roaring lustily for some one to heave a rope to him. To save his life, Captain Ezra could not help grinning.
"Waal," he said, "this is a pretty howdy do. Ye kin come on board naow, if ye want tew, only leave them arms whar they be." As if in obedience to this order, a sailor in a blue jacket with a white stripe down each arm and trimming the collar, unbuckled his heavy belt with his free hand and cast his cutlass far from him. Two others followed suit.
"Naow," said Captain Ezra, "one at a time come on board, an' we'll find aout what ye mean by attackin' a peaceable whaler with dangerous weapons, who's homeward baound an' hain't offended ye."
The first man up the side was a red-cheeked, black-whiskered individual, who mumbled, as he sheepishly gazed about him: "Douse my glims but this is a bloody rum go."
"Tie 'im up," ordered Captain Ezra. The man submitted to having his hands made fast behind his back.
"Now for the next one," said Captain Ezra, blowing a calm puff of smoke up in the air, and watching it float away into the hollow of the mainsail. In turn the thirteen discomfited sailors were ranged along the bulwarks, and no one was left but the white-faced officer, clinging to the wreckage of the boat that was now towing alongside, for one of the crew had heaved a blubber-hook into her, at the end of a bit of ratline.
"Spunky feller, ain't he?" suggested Captain Ezra, turning to Captain Dewey, who, in the excitement had taken two big chews of tobacco, one after another, and was working both sides of his jaws at once. "The last t' leave his sinkin' ship. That's well an' proper."
The young man—for he was scarcely more than thirty—needed some assistance up the side, for Captain Ezra's boot-heel had come nigh to staving in his chest.
"Naow, foller me, young man," Captain Ezra continued, walking toward the quarter-deck. He ascended the ladder to the poop, and the dripping figure, a little weak in the knees, guarded by a boat-steerer armed with a harpoon, obeyed and followed. As the Captain turned to meet him he noticed that the man in uniform still had his side-arms.
"I'll trouble you for that thar fancy blubber-knife, young man," he said, "an' then I'll talk t' ye." The officer detached his sword from his belt and handed it over. He had not offered yet to say a word.
"Naow," said Captain Ezra, holding the sword behind his back, "who be ye, an' what d' yer want? as I observed before."
"I'm Lieutenant Levison of His Majesty's brigBadger."
"Waal, ye ought to be ashamed of yourself," broke in Captain Ezra.
What d'ye mean by attackin' a peaceful whaler?
"'What d'ye mean by attackin' a peaceful whaler?'"
"I am," responded the young man. "You may believe that, truly."
"Waal, what d'ye mean by attackin' a peaceful whaler?"
"Why, don't you know?" replied the officer, with an expression of astonishment.
"Know what?"
"That there's a war between England and America?"
"Dew tell!" ejaculated Captain Steele, huskily, almost dropping his pipe. He stepped forward to the break of the poop.
"Captain Dewey," he shouted, "this here feller says thar's a war."
"So these folks have been tellin'," answered the Captain of theElijah Mason; "but I don't believe it. They're pirates; that's what they be."
"Gosh, I guess that's so," said Captain Ezra. "I reckon you're pirates," turning to the officer. "I hain't heard tell of no war."
"We are not pirates," hotly returned the young man. "Damn your insolence, I'm an officer of His Britannic Majesty, King George!"
"Tush, tush! no swearin' aboard this ship. What was you goin' to do, rowin' off to us?"
The officer remained silent, fuming in his anger. "I was going to make a prize of you; and if I had you on board ship, I'd——"
"Belay that!" ordered Captain Ezra, calmly. "Ye didn't make a prize of me, an' you're aboard my ship. Don't forgit it."
"Well," broke in the young man, angrily, "what are you going to do with me?" Captain Dewey had by this time come up on the quarter-deck, followed by the mates.
"I presume likely," said the skipper of theBlazing Star, rather thoughtfully, "I presume likely we'll hang ye."
The Englishman—for all doubts as to his nationality were set at rest by his appearance and manner of speech—drew back a step. His face, that had grown red in his anger, turned white again, and he gave a glance over his shoulder. The brig, hopelessly becalmed, lay way off against the horizon.
As he looked, a puff of smoke broke from her bows. It was the signal for recall. He winced, and his eye followed the glance of the stalwart figure with the harpoon that stood behind him.
"For God's sake, don't do that!" he said hastily. "I tell you, sir, that there is a war. There has been war for almost four months now. Upon my word of honor."
The two captains exchanged looks of incredulity. Suddenly the prisoner's face lit up. "I can prove it to you," he said excitedly. "Here is a Yankee newspaper we took from a schooner we captured off the Capes five days ago."
"The New Bedford Chronicle, by gosh!" exclaimed Captain Ezra, in astonishment, taking the soaked brown package. He spread it out on the rail.
"It's true, Cap'n Sammy, it's true," he continued excitedly. "Thar's a war; listen to this," and he read in his halting, sailor manner, the startling headlines: "The FrigateConstitutionCaptures the British FrigateGuerrière. Hurrah for Hull and his Gallant Seamen! Again the Eagle Screams with Victory."
There was much more to it, and Captain Ezra read every word. "Young man," he said at last, "I owe ye an apology. If ye'll come daown into our cabin, I kin mix ye a toddy of fine old Medford rum. Between lawful an' honest enemies there should be no hard feelin's, when the fate of war delivers one into the hands of 'tother. Cap'n Sammy," he observed as he reached the cabin, "if we had really knowed thar was a war, we'd a gone back and took that thar brig."
"Yaas," returned Captain Dewey, "we be summat behind the times."
His eyes twinkled as he glanced out of the cabin window. Still becalmed and almost hull down, H.M.S.Badgerwas but a speck against the horizon.
The Englishman drew a long deep breath.
"Come, sir," spoke up Captain Ezra. "Don't get down hearted. 'Live an learn,' that's my motto. We're drinkin' your good health, sir, join right in."
When theBlazing Stararrived in port, she turned over to the United States authorities an officer and twelve men, prisoners of war.
THE COWARD
He said that he had been impressed into the English service from the brigSusan Butler, of New York. But what grounds the boarding officer had taken in supposing him to be a British subject would puzzle most. The cocked-hats generally left a merchant vessel's side with the pick of the unfortunate crew. The qualifications necessary for a peaceable Yankee merchant sailor to change his vocation and become a servant of King George were plain and simple in 1810: ruddy cheeks—crisp curling hair—youth, health, and strength, why! of English birth and parentage most certainly! What use the papers stating that his name was Esek Cobb, or Hezekiah Brown? His home port or natal town Portsmouth, N.H., Bath, Me., or Baltimore? He spoke the mother tongue; he was an A.B. His services were needed to fight old England's enemies, and away he would go in the stern sheets of the press boat, bitter curses on his lips and irons on his wrists.
But this straight-haired, Indian-featured, narrow-shouldered half-man who stood there on theConstitution'sdeck, with his soaked, scanty clothes, clinging to his thin, big-jointed limbs, why in the name of the Lion or the Unicorn, or the Saint or the Dragon, for that matter, had they chosen him? He told his tale in a low, whimpering voice, with his eyes shifting from one deck-seam to another—Five years in the Royal British Navy!—Five years of glorious service of the one who rules the common heritage of all the peopled earth—Five years of spirit-murdering slavery.
Not six cable-lengths away, a dark shape against the lights of the town, lay the great ship from whose side he had lowered himself in the darkness to swim to the shelter of the smart, tall-sparred frigate, over whose taffrail he had watched his country's flag swinging in the sunlight, tempting him all the day. He had fought against the swiftly running tide until at last—just as his strength had left him—he had been hauled on board by the anchor watch, and now his one prayer was that they would not give him up. The men who stood about looked pityingly at his shivering figure. A middy, attracted by the commotion, had hastened aft to find the officer of the deck. The forecastle people murmured among themselves.
"Captain Hull won't give you up, lad," said one, laying his hand on the poor fellow's shoulder.
"This ship is not theChesapeake," said another; "don't ye fear, man."
"Here's the Leftenant," put in another—"'tention!"
"What's going on here?" asked a low voice.
The sailor who had last spoken touched his cap.
"I was down making the running-boat fast to the boom, sir, when I hears a faint cry, and I sees a man in the water just alongside, sir. I lays hold of him, and thinkin' it's one of our crew, sir, we gets him quietly at the forechains; then we sees as how he ain't one of us, sir,—he says."
"That'll do; let him speak for himself. Where did you come from, my man?"
"From thePoictiers, yonder, sir. For the sake of mercy don't give me up!"
"Are you an American?"
"Yes, sir; God's truth, I am."
"Your name?"
"McGovern, sir."
"Where were you born, McGovern?"
The stern, matter-of-fact inquiry could scarce conceal the pity in the tone; but it was the officer-voice speaking.
"In Water Street, New York, sir, not far from the big church—Oh, for the love of——"
"You speak like an Irishman."
"My parents were Irish, your honor, but I was born in the little house fourth from the corner. You won't let them—— Oh, God help me!"
The sturdy rocking beat of oars near to hand off the port quarter caused an interruption. The fugitive gave a quick glance full of terror in the direction of the sound; then he dropped forward upon his knees; his whimpering changed to a hoarse weeping whisper.
"Don't give me up; I'd rather die—save me—save me," he croaked.
One of the watch came hurrying aft. "There's a cutter here at the gangway," he said in a low voice, saluting the Lieutenant.
"Very good, my lad," responded the latter. "Take this man below, give him dry clothes and a place to sleep."
Two men helped the abject creature to his feet and led him sobbing to the forward hatchway. The Lieutenant stepped to the side.
"On board the cutter there," he called, "what do you want at this hour of night?" Well he knew, and he spoke as if the answer had been given.
"On board the frigate," was the reply. "We're looking for a deserter; he started to swim off to you; has he reached here?"
The Lieutenant disdained deception. "We fished a half drowning man out of the water a few minutes since," he replied quietly, leaning over the gangway railing.
"He's a deserter from my ship; I'll be obliged if you will hand him over.—This is Lieutenant Colson, of thePoictiers."
"Sorry not to grant Lieutenant Colson's request; the man claims protection as an American. Captain Hull will have to look into the matter.—This is Lieutenant Morris, of theConstitution."
"I should like to see Captain Hull at once. In bow there, make fast to the gangway."
"Hold hard, sir. The Captain is asleep; I cannot waken him."
"I demand you do—you are in one of His Majesty's ports."
"I know that well enough—keep off the side, sir." There was a moment's silence, and then the same level tone was heard addressing some one on the deck. "Call the guard; let no one come on board the ship to-night."
There was the sound of some movement on theConstitution'sdeck; the fast ebb tide clopped and gurgled about the vessel's counter mirthfully. The Englishman, standing erect in the stern sheets of the little cutter bobbing against the frigate's side, hesitated.
"On board the frigate, there!"
"Well, sir, in the cutter!"
"Heark'ee! You'll repent this rashness, I can warrant you that, my friend; you will pay high for your damned Yankee insolence, mark my words. Shove off there forward" (this to the bowman)—"shove off there, you clumsy fool! Let fall!"
There had been no reply from the bulwarks to the Englishman's burst of temper; but Lieutenant Morris stood there drumming with his fingers on the hilt of his sword, and looking out into the darkness. Then an odd smile that was near to being scornful crossed his face, and he turned quietly and began the slow swinging pace up and down the quarter-deck. That Captain Hull would sanction and approve his conduct, he did not have the least suspicion of a doubt; if not on general principles, on account of a certain specific reason—to be told in a few short words:—
It had happened that three days previous to the very evening, a steward, who had been accused of robbing the ward-room mess of liquor, and incidentally of drunkenness arising from the theft, was up for punishment—somehow he had managed to take French leave by jumping out of a lower port. He had been picked up by the running-boat of the flagship. At once he had claimed to be a subject of King George, and, needless to record, the statement was accepted without question—whether he was or not bore little weight, and cuts no figure in this tale. Suffice it: Captain Hull's polite request for the man's return was laughed at, very openly laughed at, and the Admiral's reply was a thinly veneered sneer—why, the very idea of such a thing!
Now here was a chance for that soul-satisfying game of turn and turn about. Lieutenant Morris, as he paced the broad quarter-deck, felt sure he had voiced Captain Hull's feelings, and then he began a little mental calculation, and as he did so, slightly quickened his stride, and came a few paces further forward until he was opposite the port gangway. There he stopped and looked out at the swinging anchor lights. Six hundred odd guns against forty-four! And then there were the land batteries and the channel squadron probably outside. But actually, what mattered the odds? On the morrow there was going to be something to talk about, that was fact, and Lieutenant Morris smiled as brave men do when they look forward to contest, and know they have right with them. The poor, whimpering dog who had claimed protection was probably not worth his salt, and was certainly not needed; but rather than give him up, Isaac Hull would go to the bottom (in his very best, brand-new uniform, Morris knew that well enough), and with him would go four hundred sturdy lads by the right of their own manly choice.
"And egad they'd have company," Morris reasoned out loud, with that strange smile of his.
Captain Hull heard the news and all about it at breakfast, and the only sign that it interested him in the least was the fact that he rubbed his heavy legs in their silk stockings (he generally wore silk in port) contentedly together beneath the table, and disguised a wide smile with a large piece of toast.
"Have the man given a number and assigned to a watch, Mr. Morris," was his only comment to the Lieutenant's story.
That was simple enough. But the heavy, red-faced Commodore, although prone to extravagant indulgence in expansive shirt frills, jewelry, and gold lace, usually went at matters in the simplest manner and after the most direct fashion. There did not appear to be any question on this present occasion; he to all appearances dismissed the subject from his mind; but Morris knew better—"Wait," said he to himself, "and we will see what we will see." And although this is the tritest remark in the world, it was more or less fitting, as will be shortly proved.
At nine o'clock a letter arrived from the English Admiral. It was couched in the usual form, it was full of "best compliments," and bristled with references to "courtesy and distinguished conduct in the past," and it was signed "Obd't servant." But it said and meant plainly enough: "Just take our advice and hand this fellow over, Captain Hull,—right away please, no delay; don't stop for anything. He deserves to be abolished for presuming that he has a country that will protect him."
The word had flown about the decks that the English cutter was alongside with a message from the flagship. The crew had all tumbled up from below, and a hum of voices arose from the forecastle.
"Bill Roberts, here, he was on watch when they hauled 'im on board, warent ye, Bill?—I seed him when they brought 'im below—he had the shakes bad, didn't he, Bill?" The speaker was a short, thickset man, who had a way of turning his head quickly from side to side as he spoke. His long, well-wrapped queue that hung down his back would whip across from one shoulder to the other.
"We thought it was one of yesterday's liberty party trying to get back to the ship," responded the man addressed as Bill. "But when we got him on deck we seed as how he warent one of us, as I told the First Luf. Did you see his back, Tom, when we peeled his shirt off?"
"God a' mercy! I seed it."
Well those marks were known. Deep red scars, crisscrossed with heavy, unhealed, blue-rimmed cuts, feverish and noisome.
"He was whipped through the fleet ten days ago. So he says. I don't know what for, exactly; says he found a midshipman's handkerchief on deck, and not knowin' whose 'was, put it into his ditty box—some such yarn.—Jack here, he tells of somethin' like that, when he was impressed out of theAriadneinto the oldSouthampton, don't ye, Jack?"
"Yes, but damn the yarn—this fellow—where is he now?" asked a tall, light-haired foretopman, around whose muscular throat was tattooed a chain and locket, the latter with a very red-cheeked and exceedingly blue-eyed young person smiling out through the opening in his shirt.
"He's hidin' somewhere down in the hold, I reckon," answered a little, nervous man; "nobody could find him this morning; guess he's had all the spunk licked out of him."
"I've heard tell of that before," remarked the tall foretopman. "His spirit's broke."
Just at this moment the English Lieutenant who had borne the message from the Admiral hurried up from the cabin where he had been in consultation with Captain Hull. His face was very red, and he gave a hasty glance at the crowded forecastle, as if trying to enumerate the men and their quality. Then he hastened down the side, and when he had rowed off some dozen strokes he gave the order to cease rowing. Then standing up he looked back at the frigate he had left, taking in all her points, the number of her guns, and marking her heavy scantling with a critic's eye. Then he seated himself again, and pulled away for the flagship.
His departure had been watched by four hundred pairs of eyes, and this last act of his had not been passed by unnoticed.
"Takin' our measure," observed Bill Roberts, cockswain of the Captain's gig, turning to Tom Grattan, the thickset, black-headed captain of the maintop. The latter grinned up at him.
"There'll be the Divil among the tailors," he said.
The tall foretopman, who was standing near by, folded his heavy arms across his chest.
"We'll have some lively tumbling here in about a minute, take my word for that, mates," he chuckled, "or my name's not Jack Lange"; and as he spoke, Captain Hull, followed by all of his lieutenants, came up on deck. The Captain turned and spoke a few words to Mr. Cunningham, the ship's master. The latter, followed by three or four midshipmen, hurried forward. Some of the men advanced to meet him.
"All of you to your stations," he ordered quietly. "Gunners, prepare to cast loose and provide port and starboard main-deck guns. The rest stand by ready to make sail if we get a wind off shore."
He gave the orders for the capstan bars to be fitted, and turning to the ship armorer he told him to provide cutlasses and small-arms for the crew.
Quietly boarding-nettings were made ready to be spread, the magazines were opened, even buckets of sand were brought and placed about; sand to be used in case the decks became too slippery from the blood. Down in the cockpit the doctor had laid out his knives and saws on the table. In five minutes theConstitutionhad been prepared for action. And all this had been accomplished without a sound, without a shouted order or the shrilling of a pipe!
Captain Hull inspected ship. Silent, deep-breathing men watched him as he passed along. At every division he stopped and said a few words. "Lads, we are not going to give this man up upon demand. Remember theChesapeake. We are going to defend ourselves if necessary, and be ready for it." He made the same speech in about the same words at least half a dozen times. Then he went into his cabin and donned his best new uniform, with a shining pair of bullion epaulets. This done, he gave a touch to his shirt frills before the glass and went on deck.
Signals were flying in the British fleet, and now the forts were displaying little lines of striped bunting. There was scarce breeze enough to toss them in the air. The sleepy old town of Portsmouth looked out upon the harbor. Soon it might be watching a sight that it never would forget. Perhaps history would be made here in the next few minutes, and all this time the fugitive lay cowering among the water-butts in the mid-hold.
A breeze sprang up by noon, and the two nearest vessels of the fleet, a thirty-eight-gun frigate, and a razee of fifty, slipped their moorings and came down before it. A hum of excitement ran through the Yankee ship. There was not sufficient wind to move her through the water; but the capstan was set agoing, and slowly she moved up to her anchor. As the smaller English vessel drifted down, it was seen that her men were at quarters. It was the same with the razee. But without a hail they dropped their anchors, one on each side of theConstitution'sbows, at about the distance of a cable's length. There they waited, in grim silence. The men made faces at one another, and grimaced and gestured through the open ports. The officers, gathered in groups aft, paid no attention to their neighbors.
There followed more signalling. A twelve-oared barge left the flagship for the admiralty pier. From the direction of the town came the sounds of a bugle and the steady thrumming of drums. A long red line trailed by one of the street corners. Already crowds began to gather on the housetops and the water-front. Some clouds formed in the west that looked as if a breeze might be forthcoming. Hull watched the sky anxiously.
The midday meal was served with the men still at their posts. There was no movement made on either side. Toward evening the wind came. No sooner had it ruffled the surface of the water than theConstitution, whose cable had been up and down all the day, lifted her anchor from the bottom, and with her main topsail against the mast, she backed away from her close proximity to her neighbors. Then, turning on her heel, she pointed her bow for the harbor mouth. It was necessary for her to sail past every vessel in the fleet. Drums rolled as she approached. Men could be seen scurrying to and fro, and as she passed by the flagship, a brand-new seventy-four, her three tiers of guns frowned evilly down, and a half-port dropped with a clatter. A sigh of relief went up as theConstitutionpassed by unchallenged.
There were but three vessels now to pass,—a sloop of war, a large brig, and a forty-four-gun frigate that lay well to the mouth of the harbor. The latter, apparently in obedience to signals, was getting in her anchor and preparing to get under way; but before theConstitutionhad reached her the breeze died down, and before twilight was over it was dead calm. Hull dropped his anchor, and close beside him, the Englishman dropped his. He was at least two minutes longer taking in his topsails. It continued calm throughout the early watches of the night. At three o'clock in the morning there was a sound of many oars. The officers were on the alert. "They are coming down to attack us in small boats," suggested one of the junior lieutenants. But soon it was perceived that such was not the intention, for in the dim light the big brig could be seen approaching, towed by a dozen boat's crews working at the oars. There was no reason for longer maintaining any secrecy, and Hull called his crew to quarters in the usual fashion. The sounds might have been heard on shore; but the brig, when she had once reached a berth on the American's quarter, dropped her anchor quietly.
With the gray of morning came a new wind from the westward, and with it theConstitutionslipped out of port, the two vessels that had menaced her all night long not making a movement to prevent her going. Once well out in the channel, the feeling of suspense was succeeded by one of relief and joy. The fugitive, soaked with bilge water, shivering and hungry, emerged from his hiding-place as he felt the movement of the vessel's sailing.
"How is that man McGovern doing?" asked Captain Hull of Lieutenant Morris, who was dining with him in the cabin. "He ought to be of some use after the trouble and worry he has caused us."
"I'm sorry to say he isn't," responded Morris, shrugging his shoulders. "He isn't worth powder. Why, even the forecastle boys cuff him about and bully him! He not only lacks spirit, but he is one of those men, I think, who are somehow born cowards. But he has been a sailor at some time or other, I take it, although he told me that he was only cook's helper in the galley on board thePoictiers. That's his billet now on board of us, by the way."
It was true: McGovern not only bore the name of a coward, but he looked it, every inch of him. His shifty eyes would lift up for an instant, and then slide away. His elbow was always raised as if to ward off a blow. He acted as if he expected to have things thrown at him. He invited ill treatment by his every look, and he received many blows, and many things were thrown at him. And the unthinking made fun of all this, and used him for their dirty work, and he did not resent it. He took orders from the powder-monkeys, and cringed to the steerage steward. As to the officers and midshipmen, he trembled when they approached him, and after they had passed he would spring forward and hide somewhere, panting, as if he had escaped some danger. The sight of the boatswain deprived him of the power of speech. He acted like a cur that had been whipped, and in fact he lived a dog's life. And yet for this man, those who despised him would have gone to the bottom. Aye, and cheerfully, for behind him lay the question soon to be cause enough for the shedding of much blood.
When theConstitutionreached New York, McGovern disappeared.
It was early in the month of June, 1812. There was evidence of a feeling of great uneasiness that prevailed throughout the length and breadth of the country. In the coffee-houses and taverns, at the corners of the streets, in the gatherings in drawing-room or kitchen, there was but one subject talked about—the approaching war with England. It was inevitable, naught could prevent it, was the opinion of some; while others, more cautious, saw nothing in the approaching strife but the dimming of the American star of commerce which had arisen, and death to progress in arts and manufactures. Their flag would be swept from off the sea; the little navy of a handful of ships would have to be dragged up into the shallows, and there dismantled and perhaps never be set afloat again. Little did they know of the glorious epoch awaiting. The makers of it were the sailormen in whose cause the country was soon to rise.
Jack Lange was hurrying along Front Street; he had been transferred from theConstitutionto theWasp. It was but a moment before that he had landed. He had the tall water-roll in his gait. He was very jaunty in appearance, with his clean, white breeches very much belled at the bottom, his short blue jacket and glazed cap, and from the smile on his face one could see that he was very well pleased with himself. The half-fathom of ribbon that hung over his left ear would occasionally trail out behind like a homing pennant. He was bound for Brownjohn's wharf, where he knew he might fall in with some of his old messmates and gather up the news. As he luffed sharp about a corner he passed some one hurrying in the opposite direction. It was a man of about thirty years of age. His arms were held stiff at his side, and his face was twitching nervously. His eyes were rolling in excitement. Jack Lange turned, and lifting one hand to the side of his mouth, he shouted: "Ship ahoy, there!" The other man whirled quickly, and the two stood looking at one another for an instant before either spoke. Then the big sailor advanced.
"What's the hurry, messmate?" he said. "This is McGovern, isn't it? Don't you remember me?"
"Sure I remember you," returned the other in a voice with a touch of a rich brogue. "Have you heard the news?" he added suddenly, his hand trembling as he touched Lange on the arm.
"What is it—about war?" asked Jack, eagerly.
"Aye, the war, d'ye mind that? There'll be great doings before long!"
"I suppose they'll lay the navy up in ordinary, and we poor fellows will join the sorefoots with a musket over our shoulders."
"Not a bit of it; they're going to outfit and sail to meet 'em," responded McGovern. "I'm off to tell my folks."
The news was all about the town. People were running hither and thither, clapping on their hats, women called to one another from the windows of the houses, crowds commenced to gather. Suddenly Jack hesitated. Surely it was a cheer, a rousing, sailors' cheer, off to the left down the alley! He listened again, and giving a hitch to his breeches, he started in a lumbering, clumsy gait, swinging his cap about his head. "Hurray!" he bellowed at top lung as he saw in a crowd gathered before one of the little taverns the uniforms of some of theConstitution'smen, and recognized also Bill Roberts, and his old messmate Grattan.
When theWaspsailed again, she carried between her decks as fine a crew as ever hauled a rope or manned a yard. Some of the men who had served on board theConstitutionnow swung their hammocks in the crowded forecastle of the little sloop.
Grattan and Roberts were in the same watch, the port, which was in charge of young Lieutenant James Biddle. Jack Lange was in the other watch, and with him were two of theConstitution'smen,—the little, black-eyed gunner, and a heavy, thickset man, who at first glance appeared to be too fat and clumsy ever to be a topman; yet he was, and one of the best.
Lange was stowing away his hammock but a few hours after theWasphad gotten under way, when the short, thickset man approached him.
"D'ye see who is on board with us?" he asked. He pointed forward.
There, sitting with his back against the bulwarks was the Coward, his eyes staring straight before him, and his fingers and toes—for he was bare-footed—working nervously. Soon there came an order to shorten sail. There was a scramble to the shrouds, and among the first to reach them was McGovern. Close beside him was the fat topman.
"Out of the way, you swab!" he cursed, striking out with his elbow. "This is man's work," he added. "Out of the way, can't you!"
The hot blood rushed to McGovern's face. He hesitated. At that moment some one pushed him from behind, and before he knew it he had been hustled off the bulwarks to the deck. Without a glance behind him he slunk down the hatchway. And so he went back to rinsing the dishes in the galley.
Inside of three months theWaspwas back in port again. Once more McGovern disappeared. No one missed him, and no one thought about it.
On the 13th of October Captain Jacob Jones set sail again in his trim vessel, but just before theWasphad left her moorings a boat rowed with quick, nervous strokes put out from shore. The man at the oars was doing his best to catch the sloop of war before she should gain headway. In the stern sheets sat an old woman. Now and then she would encourage the man pulling at the oars. There was a short, choppy sea, and both figures in the little boat were soaked with spray.
Suddenly the topsails filled, the headsails blew out with a vicious snap, and just as the sloop lurched forward, the little boat was abreast the forechains. The man dropped the oars, and, springing outboard, managed to catch the lower shroud; with agility he hauled himself up arm's length and sprawled over the bulwarks, down on deck. It was McGovern, and his strange coming on board had been observed by many. He arose quickly and gaining the shrouds once more, he waved his hand. "Good-by, mither!" he cried, and then he turned back to greet a burst of laughter. But all hands were too busy with the getting under way to pay much attention to him, and he disappeared below.
The next morning it blew a heavy gale, and for four days the wind lasted, and even after the danger had passed the day broke with a heavy swell on the sea and the weather yet boisterous. TheWasp'sprevious cruise had been uneventful. She had failed to fall in with the enemy, and now this continued stress of weather made the sailors, ever prone to find reasons in their superstitions, to think that they must have aboard with them a Jonah; some one who brought ill luck, and why they should have settled upon poor McGovern it would be hard to tell. Perhaps he was ignorant of the reason for the new meaning of the looks of dislike and suspicion that were cast at him, or perhaps he failed to notice them. At any rate he made no comment.
Surely it was not his fault if the second day out, during the height of the storm, the jibboom had carried away, and two of the starboard watch went with it and were lost.
There was a great deal of excitement attending this particular daybreak, the morning of the 18th, for the night before, after the clouds had cleared away and the stars had shone brightly forth, several large sails had been reported to the eastward. Captain Jones had laid his course to get to windward of them, so as to have the weather-gage when day came. The vessels had disappeared as the weather had thickened a little, and now all hands had gathered on deck, and the sloop was romping along through the slight drizzle, almost dipping her yard arms at times in the heavy seas that raced past.
"There they are.—Sails off the lee bow, two points away!" shouted a lookout from the forecastle. It had cleared a trifle, and there they were, sure enough, seven vessels, and nearer to, was a trim man-of-war brig. She was edging up slowly, taking in sail as she did so, and theWaspswung off to meet her.
"English, begad!" exclaimed Captain Jones. "Have the drummer beat to quarters, Mr. Biddle, as soon as you get down the topgallant yard and shorten sail."
"Very good, sir.—Hello, she shows the Spanish flag."
"Never mind that; she's English, I'll bet a thousand."
Biddle bawled out the orders, and the usual helter-skelter rush, from which emerges such careful work and such wonderful precision, followed. But the first man to gain the weather shrouds this time was McGovern. Since the news that the enemy had been sighted had been passed below, he had been very much in evidence. Instead of his greasy scullion's rags, he wore a clean suit of canvas. His white shirt was trimmed with blue silk, and his long hair, that usually straggled down his cheeks, was twisted into a neat queue down his back. He paid no attention to the questions addressed to him, took no heed of the merriment (for men will jest on strange occasions); but kept his eyes shifting from the group of officers on the quarter-deck, to the oncoming vessel that was plunging heavily in the great seas. When he had seen the Spanish flag, his face had fallen; but Bill Roberts was standing close beside him.
"Never mind that, my lads!" he roared to those about him. "No one but a John Bull or a Yankee would bring his ship along like that; take my word for it, my hearties!" and then had come the order to shorten sail.
McGovern was across the deck like a shot, at least three feet in advance of the next man, who, as luck would have it, was the short, fat topman before referred to. Whatever he may have thought was McGovern's proper sphere and natural instincts, it required but a glance to show that he knew what he was about as he started clearing away the parel lashings and then unreeving the running-gear. It requires but two men at the masthead to make fast the downhauls and look out for the lifts, and on this occasion there were two pairs of skilful hands at work. The older seamen looked into McGovern's face wonderingly; but the latter was going silently about his work, occasionally looking out across the rolling white of the sea at the little brig that would soon be within gunshot. He could plainly make out the red coats of the marines grouped along the rail. "Sway away!" and the topgallant yards came safely down to the deck. The men were at quarters now, and the matches were lighted.
"Well done, McGovern!" exclaimed the fat sailor, with a shamefaced smile. "Well done, McGovern!" called one of the midshipmen, grasping him by the arm. "Here, take No. 2 at this twelve-pounder. Do you know the orders, lad?"
"Yes, sir, yes," answered the Coward, excitedly. "I was captain of a gun once, o' truth I was."
But a pistol shot's distance now separated the two vessels. Captain Jones hailed through his trumpet. Down came the Spanish flag, and there was the red cross of England! The brig let go a broadside; but just before she did so, the sound of a cheer had come down on the wind.
There is no time to describe the details of the action. But few of theWasp'screw had been in actual combat before. Soon there were deep red spots on the deck; there were groans and curses, and much sulphur smoke. Occasionally the muzzles of the guns would dip deep into the water as theWasphove down into the hollow of the surge. A sharp crack aloft, and down came the main topmast, and with it fell the topsail yard. It tangled in the braces, and rendered the headsails useless. The Englishman was playing havoc with the rigging, braces, and running-gear of theWasp. Grape and round shot were mangling everything aloft.
There had been a few men in the foretop when the action had commenced. One of them was Roberts. Suddenly glancing up from his gun, McGovern saw a sight that made him start and cry out, pointing. There was Bill trying weakly to haul himself over the edge of the top. Blood was running from a wound in his forehead, and his left arm hung useless; his leg was hurt also. But he was still alive and dimly conscious. At a sudden lurch of the vessel, he almost pitched forward down to the deck. Then as McGovern watched him, he appeared to give up hope, and, twisting his hand into the bight of a rope, he lay there without moving. But no man could live there long! Splinters were flying from the masts; blocks were swinging free and dashing to and fro; new holes were being torn every second in the roaring, flapping sails. It may have been that no one else had time to think about it; but McGovern did not hesitate. He threw down the sponge and jumped into the slackened shrouds.