CHAPTER XXI
_The Boatswain Tells the Story_
One or two other men were writing at a table, and another stalwartofficer of rank was sitting by the fire reading. None of the four mencoming into the room had seen the general before, except Talbot. Asthe door opened, his excellency glanced up inquiringly, and,recognizing the first figure, stepped forward quickly, extending hishand, all the other officers rising and drawing near at the same time.
"What, Talbot! I trust you bring good news, sir?"
"I do, sir," said the young officer, saluting.
"The transport?" said the general, in great anxiety.
"Captured, sir."
"Her lading?"
"Two thousand muskets, twenty field-pieces, powder, shot, intrenchingtools, other munitions of war; ten thousand suits of winter clothes,blankets, and shoes; and four officers and fifty soldiers; all boundfor Quebec, where the British army is assembling."
"Now Almighty God be praised!" exclaimed the general, with deepfeeling. "From whence do you come now?"
"From Philadelphia, sir."
"Ah! You thought best to take your prize there instead of Boston. Itwas a risk, was it not? But now that you are there, it is better forus here. Who are your companions, sir? Pray present them to me."
"Lieutenant Seymour, sir, of the navy, who brought in the prize."
"Sir, I congratulate you. I am glad to see you."
"And this is Philip Wilton, a midshipman. I think you know him,general."
"Certainly I do; the son of my old friend the commissioner, ColonelWilton of Virginia, now unhappily a prisoner. You are very welcome, myboy. And who is this other man, Talbot?"
"William Bentley, sir, bosun of the Ranger, at your honor's service,"answered the seaman himself.
"Well, my man," said the general, smiling, "if the Ranger has many likeyou in her crew, she must show a formidable lot of men. I am glad tosee you all. These are my staff, gentlemen, the members of my family,to whom I present you. General Greene, General Knox; and these twoboys here are Captain Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de La Fayette,a volunteer from France, who comes to serve our country without moneyor without price, for love of liberty. This is Major Harrison, thisCaptain Laurens, this Captain Morris of the Philadelphia troop, ouronly cavalry; they serve like the marquis, for love of liberty. I knownot how I could dispense with them." The gentlemen mentioned bowedceremoniously, and some of them shook hands with the new-comers.
"Billy," continued Washington, turning to his black servant, "I wishyou to get something to eat for these gentlemen. It's only bread andmeat that we can offer you, I am sorry to say; we are not living in avery luxurious style at present,--on rather short rations, on thecontrary. But meanwhile you will take a glass of this excellent punchwith us, and we will drink to a merry Christmas. Fill your glasses,gentlemen all. Your news is the first good news we have had for solong that we have almost forgot what good news is. It is certainlyvery pleasant for us, eh, gentlemen? Now give us some of the detailsof the capture of the transport. How was it? You, Mr. Seymour, arethe sailor of the party; do you tell us about it."
Then, in that rude farmhouse among the hills on that bitter winter day,Seymour told the story of the sighting of the convoy, and the ruse bywhich the capture of the two ships had been effected, at which GeneralWashington laughed heartily. Then he described in a graphic seamanlikeway the wonderful night action; the capture of the Juno by the heroiccaptain of the Ranger, the successful escape of that ship from thefrigate, and the sinking of the Juno. He was interrupted from time totime by exclamations and deep gasps of excitement from the officerscrowding about him; even Billy bringing the dinner put it downunheeded, and listened with his eyes glistening. And then Seymourdelivered Jones's message to General Washington.
"Wonderful man! wonderful man!" he said. "We shall hear of him, Ithink, in the English Channel; and the English also, which is more tothe point. But your own ship--had you an eventless passage, Mr.Seymour? And, gentlemen, you look as solemn as if you were the bearersof bad news instead of good tidings, or had been retreating with us forthe past six months. Thank goodness, that's about over tonight. Fillyour glasses, gentlemen. 'T is Christmas day. Now for your own story.Did you meet an enemy's ship?"
"We did, sir.--Talbot, you tell the story."
"No, no, I cannot; 't is your part, Seymour."
Here, in the presence of friends, and friends who knew and lovedColonel Wilton and his daughter, neither of the young men felt equal tothe tale. Each day brought home to them their bitter sorrow morepowerfully than before, and each hour but deepened the anguish in theirhearts.
"Why, what is this? What has happened? The transport is safe, yousaid," continued the general, in some anxiety. "What is it?"
"I can tell, if your honor pleases, sir," said the deep voice ofBentley.
"Speak, man, speak."
"It happened this way, sir: we were off Cape Cod, heading northwest bywest for Boston, about a week ago, close hauled on the starboard tackin a half gale of wind. Your honor knows what the starboard tack is?"
"Yes, yes, certainly; go on."
"When about three bells in the afternoon watch,--your honor knows whatthree bells--Ay, ay, sir," continued the seaman, noting the general'simpatient nod. "Well, sir, we spied a large sail coming down on usfast; we ran off free, she following. Pretty soon we made her out afrigate, a heavy frigate of thirty-six guns, and a fast one too, forshe rapidly overhauled us. We cracked on sail, even setting thetopmast stunsail, till it blew away. Then we cut away bulwarks andrails, flattened the sails by jiggers on the sheets and halliards untilthey set like boards, pumped her out, cast adrift the boats, cut awayanchors, but it was n't any use; she kept a-gaining on us. By and bywe came to George's Shoal extending about three leagues across ourcourse to the southeast of Cape Cod. There is a pass through theshoal; Lieutenant Seymour knows it, we surveyed it this last summer.We brought the ship to on the wind on the same tack again, near theshoal, and ran for the mouth of the pass. The frigate edged off to runus down. Lieutenant Talbot broke out a field-piece from the hold andmounted it as a stern-chaser, and used it too--"
"Good! well done!" said the general, nodding approvingly. "Go on."
"We came to the mouth of the pass. The frigate fired a broadside. Oneshot carried away the mizzen topgallant mast; another sent a shower ofsplinters inboard, killing the man at the wheel. The ship falls offand enters the pass. I seize the helm. Mr. Seymour conned us through.The frigate chased madly after us. She sees the breakers; she can'tfollow us, draws too much water; she makes an effort to back off. Itis too late; she strikes. The wind rises to a heavy gale. We see hergo to pieces, and never a soul left to tell the story, never a plank ofher that hangs together. She's gone, and we go free. That's all, yourhonor, and may God have mercy on their souls, say I," added the solemnvoice of the boatswain in the silence.
"A frightful catastrophe, indeed, and a terrible one! I do not wonderat your sadness. But, young gentlemen, do not take it so to heart. Itis the fate of war, and war is always frightful."
"Did you find out the name of the ship, boatswain?" asked GeneralGreene.
"Yes, your honor; the Radnor, thirty-six."
"Could no one have been saved?" queried General Knox.
"No one, sir. No boat could have lived in that sea a moment. We couldn't put back, could do no good if we had, and so we came on toPhiladelphia, and that's all."
"No, general," cried Seymour; "it's not all. We will tell the generalthe whole story, Talbot. You remember, sir, the raid on the Wiltonplace and the capture of the colonel and his daughter?" The generalnodded. "Well, sir, before the Ranger sailed, I received a note fromMiss Wilton saying they were to be sent to England in the Radnor."
"You received the note? I thought she was Mr. Talbot's betrothed, Mr.Seymour!"
"I thought so too, general; but it seems that we are both wrong.Lieutenant Seymour captured her duri
ng his visit there with ColonelWilton," said Talbot, with a faint smile.
"I am very sorry for you, Talbot, and you are a fortunate man, Mr.Seymour. But go on; we are all friends here. Did you say they were togo on the Radnor?"
"Yes, sir. The pursuing frigate was recognized by one of my men whohad been pressed and flogged while on her, as the Radnor, the ship onwhich they were. I heard the man say so just as we neared the reef.To go through the pass was to lead the English ship to destruction andcause the death of those we--of the colonel, sir," continued Seymour,in some confusion. "To refrain from attempting the pass was to losethe ship and all it meant for our cause. I could not decide. I sayfrankly I could not condemn those I--our friends to death, and I couldnot lose the ship either. This old man knew it all. He has known mefrom a child. He spoke out boldly, and laid my duty before me, andpleaded with me--"
"He did not need it, your honor. No, sir; he would have done itanyway," interrupted Bentley.
The general took the hand of the embarrassed old boatswain and shook itwarmly; then, fixing his glowing eyes upon the two young men, said,--
"Continue, Mr. Seymour."
"I know not what I might have done, but the old seaman's appeal to myhonor decided me. I went aft with horror in my heart, but resolved todo my duty. On my way there I took out of my pocket the little notereceived from Miss Wilton; a gust of wind blew it to the hand of Mr.Talbot. It was only a line. As he picked it up, he read itinvoluntarily. We had some words. I drew on him, sir. It was myfault."
"No, no, general, the fault was mine!" interrupted Talbot. "I said itwas my letter, refused to give it up, insulted him. He would havearrested me. Bentley and Philip interfered. I taunted him, advancedto strike him. He had to draw or be dishonored."
"Nay, general, but the fault was mine. I was the captain of the ship;the safety of the ship depended on me."
"Go on, go on, Mr. Seymour," said the general; "this dispute does honorto you both."
"The rest happened as has been told you. One of the splinters struckMr. Talbot's sword and swept it into the sea; the note went with it,and then the frigate was wrecked, and Colonel Wilton and his daughter,with all the rest, lost."
It was very still in the room.
"My poor friend, my poor friend," murmured the general, "and thatcharming girl. Without a moment's warning! Young gentlemen," takingeach of the young men by the hand, "I honor you. You have deservedwell of our country,--for the frankness with which one of you admitshis fault, for it was a fault, and takes the blame upon himself, andfor the heroic resolution by which the other sacrifices his love forhis duty. Laurens, make out a captain's commission for Mr. Talbot.Hamilton, I wish you would write out a general order declaring thecapture of the transport and her lading, and the sinking of the Junoand the wreck of the English frigate; it will hearten the men for ourenterprise to-night. As for you, Mr. Seymour, I shall use what littleinfluence I may be able to exert to get you a ship at once; meantime,as we contemplate attacking the enemy at last, I shall be glad to offeryou a position as volunteer on my staff for a few days, if your dutieswill permit. And to you, Philip, let me be a father indeed--my poorboy! As for you, boatswain, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing, your honor, nothing, sir. You have shaken me by the hand,and that's enough." The old man hesitated, and then, seeing onlykindness in the general's face, for the old sailor attracted andpleased him, he went on softly: "Ay, love's a mighty thing, your honor;we knows it, we old men. And love of woman's strong, they say, butthese boys have shown us that something else is stronger."
"And what is that, pray, my friend?"
"Love of country, sir," said Bentley, in the silence.
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