CHAPTER I.
THE OVEN.
In courtesy to those who have not read the preceding volume of thisseries, it is proper to observe that Arthur Brown, the principalcharacter of it, is a young man, twenty-one years of age, rescued,in circumstances of peculiar peril, by Captain Rhines, who (in thedischarge of obligations incurred to the young man's father), togetherwith others, puts him in command of the brigantine "Arthur Brown,"named for the young man's father, who perished at sea.
The vessel, built by Charlie Bell at Pleasant Cove, modelled for speed,with a numerous crew of able seamen, having already made a successfulvoyage to Marseilles, a blockaded port, is now ready to sail again.Walter Griffin is a Pleasant Cove boy,--belonging to a very athletic,resolute family,--who began active life in a store, but, finding thatmode of life ill adapted to his inclinations and capacities, became asailor, shipped in the brigantine before the mast, and is now firstmate.
Ned Gates is a Salem boy, in his nineteenth year, rather small of hisage, was rescued at the same time with Arthur Brown by Captain Rhines(the details of which occurrence will be found in the previous volume),being a townie and at school with Arthur, was an excellent boy, andmuch beloved by him.
On the former voyage, Walter and Ned were before the mast together, inthe same watch, and slept in the same berth, till, on the home passage,Walter was promoted; their friendship still continues, although withfewer opportunities of intercourse.
Jacques Bernoux is a Frenchman, native of Marseilles, fisherman byoccupation, and thoroughly acquainted with the coast.
James Peterson is a negro, born of slave parents in Martinique, butsold in boyhood to an American captain, residing near Pleasant Cove,and obtained freedom when slavery was abolished in New England.Although ignorant and much addicted to intemperance at particulartimes, he was very much liked (especially by two families, CaptainRhines's and Edmund Griffin's), and by all the boys, because of othersterling qualities. He was possessed of great personal strength, anexcellent seaman and pilot, first-rate calker, perfectly honest, andof a most affectionate disposition. The boys idolized him, becausehe taught them to wrestle, tie sailor knots, and, when at leisure,was ever ready to make playthings for them. On stormy days, when itwas known he could not work, his house would be thronged with boys,coaxing him to make one thing or another. Luce, his wife, was asplendid cook, and nothing suited them better than to be asked to stopto dinner; victuals tasted a great deal better there than at home.Ben, his oldest son, was as great a favorite with the young fry as hisfather,--excelling in all sports that required strength and agility,always good-natured, never presuming, and full of queer, witty sayings.Ben Peterson was (in boy language and estimation) a bully fellow.
Thus it fell out that the cross-path which led to his house was deeplyworn by young feet. Going to Peterson's, and having a good time, wereconvertible terms.
By the efforts of his young friends, he was persuaded to abandon hiscups, and taught to read and write; the result of which was, that heimmediately began to acquire property, became a freeholder, and wasuniversally respected and beloved.
Captain Murch, of the mast ship Casco, coming home sick, a new captain,of the name of Aldrich, was put in to go the voyage. It was verydifficult to get a crew for her, as he was generally disliked. CaptainRhines, anxious to get the ship away, persuaded Peterson and anotherby the name of Danforth Eaton to ship first, in consequence of which acrew was obtained.
One evening, while the ship was lying in Martinique, Peterson (thenacting as cook, the cook having gone to the hospital, sick) was sentashore by the captain with letters. In the morning he was missing.Search being made, it was evident that he returned on board, as a firewas burning and breakfast partly prepared; at length his kerchiefwas discovered on the fender, and the dock was dragged, but withoutfinding the body. The captain concluded that he had met with some oldshipmates the evening before, and was prevailed upon to take a friendlyglass, which waked up the old appetite, and the next morning he hadturned out early, obtained more liquor, fallen from the gangway plank,and the tide had swept the body to sea. The crew, on the contrary,refused to believe he drank, but thought he went ashore to getsomething to season his stew, made, in his haste, a misstep, and felloverboard.
Captain Rhines and the community at large inclined to the opinion ofthe crew. His death was universally lamented; the boys sadly missedtheir colored friend, and the grass grows over the well-worn path thatleads to his dwelling.
Captain Murch resuming the command, Aldrich went to England. Percival,the mate, becoming intemperate, was reduced to the position of lumperaround the wharves in Boston.
There was, however, something quite mysterious about the disappearanceof Peterson: his family refused to believe he was dead, and opinionswere divided. It long formed a topic of dispute and discussion at thewinter firesides; some contending that a man so athletic and agile asPeterson would have caught hold of something, and never would have beendrowned between the vessel and the wharf; at least, he would have madean outcry; to which it was replied, that he might have struck his headon the wharf or fender, and stunned himself. In reply to this, it wasurged that a negro's head is too thick to be affected in that manner.After a while, other topics of interest came up, and the vexed subjectwas gradually dropped. Before the arrival of the Casco, bringing thatsad news, the brigantine had sailed for Marseilles. Thus Walter and Nedwent away ignorant of the whole matter.
Walter and Ned had made their preparations for this voyage toMarseilles with feelings quite different from that blithesome, buoyantmood in which they weighed anchor before.
The death of Uncle Isaac, as he was fondly called by the young people,had blighted anticipations of pleasure to be derived from going intothe woods during the holidays; and the loss of one who united in hissingle person the characters of parent, counsellor, and most genialcompanion, weighed heavily upon their hearts. Having been called to hisbedside, his last words of affectionate counsel to them were fresh intheir remembrance.
Ned Gates--Little Ned, as he was called at sea to distinguish himfrom a man by the name of Edward--had grown remarkably, in both sizeand strength, since his recovery from wounds received in running thebroadside of an English ship on the last voyage, and no longer meritedthat appellation.
It is customary on shipboard for the boys and ordinary seamen to furlthe light sails. The royal, therefore, on board the Arthur Brown,during the last voyage, pertained to Ned; but, in a vessel that spreadso much canvas as the brigantine, it was by no means a small sail. Whenthe wind blew fresh, and especially if the canvas was wet, all the wayhe could manage it was to furl the yard-arms first, which, however,was not seaman-like. In very bad weather he could not furl it at all,although he sometimes exerted himself till his finger nails were tornto the quick, and the blood spun from his nostrils.
It was a great mortification to him when a man was sent aloft tohelp him. He would look as meeching as a dog caught in the act ofsheep-killing, and not get over it for a week.
After Walter, on the homeward voyage, was promoted to a chief mate'sberth, he, in order to save Ned's feelings, and enable him to handleit, had a royal buntline rove, the legs of which, led through thimbleson each leech, which spilled the sail, that is, threw the wind out ofit, gathered it up, and enabled him to handle it in all weathers.
Even this chafed the proud-spirited boy, because he thought everybodyknew what it was done for, and felt that it was a tacit acknowledgmentof incompetence.
Walter and Ned went on board the vessel in Boston some days before thecrew came up from Pleasant Cove. Ned goes aloft in the night, unreevesthe royal buntline, takes the thimbles from the sail, the block fromthe eyes of the rigging, and the thimbles from the tie, and stows themall away.
"Ned," said Walter, the next day, as he was looking over therunning-rigging, preparatory to bending sails, "where is the royalbuntline?"
"I thought, sir, it wouldn't be needed," replied Ned, slightlycoloring; "so I unrove and stowed it away."
/> "All right. I missed it, and thought some dock thief had stolen it."
The shrewd course of Captain Brown, in making Jacques Bernoux ahandsome present for his past services, and thus attaching him tohis interests, was now evident. Jacques was not merely a fisherman,but also a pilot, and thoroughly acquainted with the coast all alongthe shores of the Gulf of Lyons, and especially between Toulon andMarseilles. Along some portions of the gulf the land is low, and thereare many lagoons, separated by narrow portions of land, into which thesea is forced by storms; but towards Toulon the shores are bolder, andthe land broken into many rocky heights and promontories, intersectedby creeks and coves. With every one of these Jacques was thoroughlyacquainted, as he had been a smuggler before his marriage.
All the passage Captain Brown was studying the charts of the Frenchcoast, and obtaining information from Jacques in respect to it.
Arthur Brown had no ordinary foes to deal with. Lord Hood was incommand of the Mediterranean fleet, with orders to take all vessels, ofwhatever nation, attempting to enter Marseilles or Toulon, and underhim was Nelson, in the Agamemnon, sixty-four guns--a very fast ship,that is, for an English ship. It was merely a question of shrewdnessand seamanship, as the Arthur Brown was unarmed, and could not resist.
In order to pass the time at sea, Jacques frequently told storiesin relation to his expeditions with the smugglers, and, among otherthings, described a cove where he had often aided to land cargoes ofsmuggled goods, and which was singularly adapted for concealment.
The captain listened attentively, but, at the conclusion of the story,merely remarked that it must be a curious place.
It was the middle of an afternoon, and the vessel well in with theland, when they made a sail, which Jacques, after looking at it a longtime with the glass, declared to be Nelson's ship.
"I don't care who she is," said the captain; "she's dead to leeward.She can't catch us, and we can dodge her in the night."
The wind was blowing a wholesale breeze, and fair.
"Jacques," said the captain, laying his hand on the pilot's shoulder,"do you remember that singular cove you were telling about a fortnightago?"
"The oven, sir?"
"That's it. Could you take a vessel in there in the night?"
"Yes, captain, night or day. I know it as well as I know the way to myberth."
"It is bright starlight; the wind is fair, and plenty of it. Put thisvessel in there before daylight, and I'll make it the best night's workyou ever did in your life."
"I can take you in, captain; but remember it is an oven. If any of thefleet see you, you are gone."
"I'll take the risk."
With a spanking breeze, and every inch of canvas spread that woulddraw, the swift vessel sped on her way, and long before daybreak wasunder the shadow of the land, with her studding-sails and all hersquare-sails taken in.
The entrance was so narrow that two vessels could not have gone inabreast, while high bluffs and overhanging foliage made it as black asa wolf's mouth. The ship's company held their breath. The vessel seemedrushing on to certain destruction; but, as she rounded a high bluff,the wind was left behind, and, after running twice her length into acalm basin, Jacques ordered the anchor let go, and she was brought up.
"There, captain," said Jacques, "I've put you into a harbor where nowind can touch you, and about half way between Marseilles and Toulon.The rest is your affair."
"How much of this vessel, lying here, could be seen from a passingship?"
"A vessel of this size, nothing below the top-mast-head. Besides,men-of-war don't care to come in here. There are batteries on the shorea mile from this, each way. If they thought of looking, they couldn'tsee so small a spar as this vessel's topgallant-mast without a glass."
The morning light revealed a most singular place. On the starboardhand, a rugged promontory, covered with a thick growth of pine andfir, mixed with oak and ash, rose perpendicularly from the sea. Theother, and port side of the entrance, was formed by a small island,its extremity, like that of the other point, terminating in a long,rocky, and wooded bluff, but of less height. (Perhaps some of our youngreaders may have noticed, and thought strange, that seamen never say,"Put the helm to larboard," or speak of the larboard side of a vessel,but say, "Port the helm," "Hard a-port," or, "Hard down." _Port_ is amilitary term borrowed from the French, an abbreviation of "_Porta latimone_," meaning, "Carry the helm to the left," because soldiers,when they port arms, carry the pieces to the left.)
The inner extremity of this island, where it approached the main land,"locked by" (as the seamen say) another wooded point of the main shore,affording between them only a shallow and tortuous passage for smallboats. The position of these two points completely intercepted the viewof the harbor from the sea. It was only from the main shore that it waspossible to look into it through the passage between the points.
It must be evident to our young readers that the captain of thebrigantine could only hope to escape capture, or at least the lossof vessel and cargo, by concealment. In entering this oven, he hadcompletely cut himself off from all chance of flight, since, should theenemy discover him, a man-o'-war's crew might easily enter, and tow thevessel out or set her on fire.
On the other hand, if undiscovered, he was in a safe harbor; the cargo,in case of necessity, could be landed, and transported to Marseilles orToulon by land; and it was sufficiently valuable to leave a handsomeprofit, even if the vessel was lost.
"It is best," said the captain, "to be on the safe side, especially ifyou have to do with English sailors, commanded by Nelson, who hates aYankee as much as he does a Frenchman. If we had to do with Frenchmenand Spaniards, it would be another matter."
He instantly set the crew at work to send down the foretopgallant-mastand maintop-mast, with the yards. He then run a hawser to a tree, and,paying out on the cable, hauled the vessel in close under the highcliffs on the starboard hand, and, not satisfied even with this, cutbranches from the trees, and lashed them to the head of the mainmastand also of the foretop-mast. It was now impossible to see the vesselfrom sea; and even a boat pulling along shore could not perceive herwithout actually entering the mouth of the oven. This was next toimpossible, as man-o'-war boats, liable to be fired upon with smallarms and field-pieces, were not inclined to venture near the shorewithout some special object, or information of some valuable prize,which might repay them for the risk. Jacques, having received a veryhandsome reward from the captain, went to Marseilles to see his family,and bore a message from the captain to merchants there, to whom he soldhis former cargo.
The Young Deliverers of Pleasant Cove Page 2