The Only Woman in the Town, and Other Tales of the American Revolution

by Sarah J. Prichard

  DAVID BUSHNELL AND HIS AMERICAN TURTLE.

  THE FIRST SUBMARINE BOAT INVENTED.

  "David!" cried a voice stern and commanding, from a house-door onemorning, as the young man who owned the name was taking a short cut"across lots" in the direction of Pautapoug.

  "Sir!" cried the youth in response to the call, and pausing as nearlyas he could, and at the same time keep his feet from sinking into themarshy soil.

  "Where are you going?" was the response.

  "To Pautapoug, to see Uriah Hayden, sir."

  "You'd better hire out at ship-building with him. Your collegelearning's of no earthly use in these days," said the father of DavidBushnell, returning from the door, and sinking slowly down into hishigh-backed chair.

  Then spoke up a sweet-voiced woman from the kitchen fire-side, whereshe had that moment been hanging an iron pot on the crane:

  "Have a little patience, father (Mrs. Bushnell always called herhusband, father), David is only looking about to see what to do. It'shardly four weeks since he was graduated."

  "True enough; but where can you find an idle man in all Saybrooktown? and you know as well as I do that it makes men despisecollege-learning to see folks idle. I'd rather, for my part, David_did_ go to work on the ship Uriah Hayden is building. I wish Iknew what he's gone over there for to-day."

  A funny smile crept into the curves of Mrs. Bushnell's lips, but herhusband did not notice it.

  Mr. Bushnell moved uneasily in his chair, as he sat leaning forward,both hands clasped about a hickory stick, and his chin resting on theknob at its top. Presently he said:

  "Anna, I fear David is getting into bad habits. He used to talk a gooddeal. Now he sits with his eyes on the floor, and his forehead inwrinkles, and I'm _sure_ I've heard him moving about more than onenight lately, after all honest folks were in bed."

  "Father, you must remember that you've been very sick, and fever givesone queer notions sometimes. I shouldn't wonder one bit if you dreamedyou heard something, when 'twas only the rats behind the wainscot."

  "Rats don't step like a grown man in his stocking-feet, nor make therafters creak, either."

  Madam Bushnell appeared to be investigating the contents of the pothanging on the crane, and perhaps the heat of the blazing wood wassufficient to account for the burning of her cheeks. She cooled thema moment later by going down cellar after cider, a mug of which sheoffered to her husband, proposing the while that he should have hischair out of doors, and sit under the sycamore tree by the river-bank.When he assented, and she had seen him safely in the chair, she madehaste to David's bed-room.

  Since Mr. Bushnell's illness began, no one had ascended to the chamberexcept herself and her son.

  On two shelves hanging against the wall were the books that he hadbrought home with him from Yale College, just four weeks ago.

  A table was drawn near to the one window in the room. On it were bitsof wood, with iron scraps, fragments of glass and copper. In fact, thesame thing to-day would suggest boat-building to the mother of any ladfinding them among her boy's playthings. To this mother they suggestednothing beyond the fact that David was engaged in something which hewished to keep a profound secret.

  He had not told her so. It had not been necessary. She had divined itand kept silence, having all a mother's confidence in, and hope of,her son's success in life.

  As she surveyed the place, she thought:

  "There is nothing here, even if he (meaning her husband) should takeit into his head to come up and look about."

  Meanwhile young David had crossed the Pochaug River, and was half theway to Pautapoug.

  All this happened more than a thousand moons ago, when all the landwas aroused and astir, and David Bushnell was not in the leastsurprised to meet, at the ship-yard of Uriah Hayden, JonathanTrumbull, Governor of Connecticut.

  This man was everywhere, seeing to everything, in that year. Whateverhis country needed, or Commander-in-chief Washington ordered from thecamp at Cambridge, was forthcoming.

  A ship had been demanded of Connecticut, and so Governor Trumbull hadcome down from Lebanon to look with his own eyes at the huge ribs ofoak, thereafter to sail the seas as "The Oliver Cromwell."

  The self-same oaken ribs had intense interest for young DavidBushnell. Uriah Hayden had promised to sell to him all the pieces ofship-timber that should be left, and while the governor and thebuilder planned, he went about gathering together fragments.

  "Better take enough to build a boat that will carry a seine. 'T won'tcost you a mite more, and might serve you a good turn to have asizable craft in a heavy sea some day," said Mr. Hayden.

  Now David Bushnell had been wishing that he had some good andsufficient reason to give Mr. Hayden for wanting the stuff at all, andhere he had given it to him.

  "That's true," spoke up David, "but how am I to get all this over toPochaug?"

  "Don't get it over at all, until it's ready to row down theConnecticut, and around the Sound. You're welcome to build your boatat the yard, and, now and then, there will be odd minutes that the mencan help you on with it."

  David thanked Mr. Hayden, grew cheerful of heart over the prospect ofowning a boat of his own, and went merrily back to the village ofPochaug.

  Two weeks later David's boat was ready for sea. It was launched intothe Connecticut from the ways on which the "Oliver Cromwell" grew, wasnamed Lady Fenwick, and, when water-tight, was rowed down the river,past Saybrook and Tomb Hill, and so into the Long Island Sound.

  When its owner and navigator went by Tomb Hill, he removed his hat,and bowed reverently. He thought with respect and admiration of theoccupant of the sandstone tomb on its height, the Lady Fenwick who hadslept there one hundred and thirty years.

  With blistered palms and burning fingers David Bushnell pushed hisboat with pride up the Pochaug River, and tied it to a stake at thebridge just beyond the sycamore tree, near his father's door.

  "I'll fetch father and mother out to see it," he thought, "when themoon gets up a little higher."

  With boyish pride he looked down at the work of his hands from theriver-bank, and went in to get his supper.

  "David!" called Mr. Bushnell, having heard his steps in theentry-way.

  "Here I am, father," returned the young man, appearing within theroom, and speaking in a cheerful tone.

  "Don't you think you have wasted about time enough?"

  The voice was high-wrought and nervous in the extreme. He, poor man,had been that afternoon thinking the matter over in a convalescent'sweak manner of looking upon the act of another man.

  David Bushnell, smiling still, and taking out a large silver watchfrom his waistcoat pocket, and looking at it, replied:

  "I haven't wasted one moment, father. The tide was against me, butI've rowed around from Pautapoug ship-yard to the sycamore tree outhere since two o'clock."

  "_You_ row a boat!" cried Mr. Bushnell, with lofty disdain.

  "Why, father, you have not a very good opinion of your son, have you?"questioned the son. "Come, though, and see what he has been doing.Come, mother," as Mrs. Bushnell entered, bearing David's supper in herhands.

  She put it down. Mr. Bushnell pulled himself upright with a groan ortwo, and suffered David to assist him by the support of his arm asthey went out.

  "Why, you tremble as though you had the palsy," said the father.

  "It's nothing. I'm not used to pulling so long at the oar," said theson.

  When they came to the bank, the full moon shone athwart the littleboat rocking on the stream.

  "What's that?" exclaimed both parents.

  "That is the Lady Fenwick. I've been building the boat myself. Youadvised me, father, to go to ship-building one morning--do youremember? I took your advice, and began at the bottom of the ladder."

  "_You_ built that boat with your own hands, you say?"

  "With my own hands, sir."

  "In two weeks' time?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And rowed it all the way down the river, a
nd up the Pochaug?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good boy! You may go in and have your supper," said Mr. Bushnell,patting him on the back, just as he had done when he returned fromcollege with his first award.

  As for Madam Bushnell, she smiled down upon Lady Fenwick and did hergreat reverence in her heart, while she said to the boat-builder:

  "David, dear, wait a few minutes, and I'll give you something niceand warm for your supper. Your father, Ezra and I had ours long ago."

  That night Mr. Bushnell did not lie awake to listen for the stealthystepping in the upper room. He slept all the sounder, because he hadat last seen one stroke of honest work, as he called it, as the resultof his endeavors to help David on in life.

  As for David himself, he went to sleep, saying in his heart: "It is agood stepping-stone at least;" which conclusion grew into form insleep, and shaped itself into a mighty monster, that bored itselfunder mountains, and, after taking a nap, roused and shook itself somightily that the mountain flew into fragments high in air.

  If you go, to-day, into the Connecticut River from Long Island Sound,you will see on its left bank the old town of Saybrook, on its rightthe slightly younger town of Lyme, and you will have passed by,without having been very much interested in it, an island lying justwithin the shelter of either bank.

  In the summer of 1774 a band of fishermen put up a reel upon theisland, on which to wind their seine. Over the reel they built a roofto protect it from the rains. With the exception of the reel, therewas no building upon the island. A large portion of the land wassubmerged at the highest tides, and in the spring freshets, and wascovered with a generous growth of salt grass, in which a small armymight readily find concealment.

  The little fishing band was now sadly broken and lessened by one ofthe Washingtonian demands upon Brother Jonathan. For reasons that hedid not choose to give, David Bushnell joined this band of fishermenin the summer of 1775. Gradually he made himself, by purchase, theowner of the larger part of the reel and seine. In a few weeks' timehe had induced his brother Ezra to become as much of a fisherman as hehimself was.

  As the days went by, the brothers fairly haunted this island. Theygave it a name for their own use, and, early in the day-dawn of many amorning, they pulled the Lady Fenwick wearily up the Pochaug, tosnatch a few winks of sleep at home, before the sun should fairly riseand call them to their daily tasks, for David assumed to help Ezra onthe farm, even as Ezra helped him on the island.

  The two brothers owned the reel and the seine before the end of themonth of August in 1775. As soon as they became the sole owners, theyprocured lumber and enclosed the reel, and very seldom took down theseine from its great round perch; they used it just often enough toallay any suspicion as to their real object in becoming owners of thefishing implements.

  About that time a story grew into general belief that the tomb of LadyFenwick was haunted. Boatmen, passing in the stillness of the solemnnight hours, asserted that they heard strange noises issuing from thehill, just where the lady slept in her lonely burial-place. The soundsseemed to emerge from the earth, and timid men passed up the riverwith every inch of sail set to catch the breeze, lest the solemn thudshould sound, that a hundred persons were willing to testify had beenheard by each and every one of them, at some hour of the night, comingfrom the tomb.

  One evening in late September, the two brothers started forth asusual, nominally to "go fishing." As they stepped down the bank, Mr.Bushnell followed them.

  "Boys," said he, "it's an uncommon fine night on the water. I believeI'll take a seat in your boat, with your permission. I used to likefishing myself when I was young and spry."

  "And leave mother alone!" objected David.

  "She's been out with me many a night on the Sound. She's brave, andwon't mind a good south-west wind, such as I dare say breaks in on theshore this minute. Go and call her."

  And so the family started forth to go fishing.

  This was a night the two brothers had been looking forward to duringweeks of earnest labor, and now--well, it could not be helped, andthere was not a moment in which to hold counsel.

  Mr. Bushnell had planned this surprise early in the day, but had nottold his wife until evening. Then he announced his determination to"learn what all these midnight and all-night absences did mean."

  As the Lady Fenwick came out from the Pochaug River into the Sound,the south-west wind brought crested waves to shore. The wind wasincreasing, and, to the great relief of David and Ezra, Mr. Bushnellgave the order to turn back into the river.

  The next day David Bushnell asked his mother whether or not she knewthe reason his father had proposed to go out with them the nightbefore.

  "Yes, David," was the reply, "I do."

  "Will you tell me?"

  "He does not believe that you and Ezra go fishing at all."

  "What do you believe about it, mother?"

  "I believe in _you_, David, and that when you have anything to tell tome, I shall be glad to listen."

  "And father does not trust me yet; I am sorry," said David, turningaway. And then, as by a sudden impulse, he returned and said:

  "If you can trust _me_ so entirely, mother, _we_ can trust _you_.To-day, two gentlemen will be here. You will please be ready to go outin the boat with us whenever they come."

  "Where to?"

  "To my fishing ground, mother."

  The strangers arrived, and were presented to Mrs. Bushnell as Dr. Galeand his friend, Mr. Franklin.

  At three of the clock the little family set off in the row-boat. Downat Pochaug harbor, there was Mr. Bushnell hallooing to them to betaken on board.

  "I saw my family starting on an unknown voyage," he remarked, as theboat approached the shore as nearly as it could, while he waded out tomeet it.

  "Ah, Friend Gale, is that you?" he said, as with dripping feet hestepped in. "And whither bound?" he added, dropping into a seat.

  "For the far and distant land of the unknown, Mr. Bushnell. Permit meto introduce you to my friend, Mr. Franklin."

  "Franklin! Franklin!" exclaimed Mr. Bushnell, eyeing the stranger alittle rudely. "_Doctor Benjamin Franklin_, _if you please_, BenjaminGale!" he corrected, to the utter amazement of the party.

  The oars missed the stroke, caught it again, and, for a minute, poorDr. Franklin was confused by the sudden announcement that he existedat all, and, in particular, in that small boat on the sea.

  "Yes, sir, even so," responded Dr. Gale, cheerfully adding, "and we'regoing down to see the new fishing tackle your son is going to catchthe enemy's ships with."

  "Fishing tackle! Enemy's ships! Why, David _is_ the laziest man in allSaybrook town. He does nothing with his first summer but fish, fishall night long! The only stroke of honest work I've _ever_ known himto do was to build this boat we're in."

  During this time the brothers were pulling with a will for theisland.

  Arrived there, the boat was drawn up on the sand, the seine-houseunlocked, and, when the light of day had been let into it, fishing-reeland seine had disappeared, and, in the language of Doctor Benjamin Gale,this is what they found therein:

  THE AMERICAN TURTLE.

  "The body, when standing upright, in the position in which it is navigated, has the nearest resemblance to the two upper shells of the tortoise, joined together. It is seven and a half feet long, and six feet high. The person who navigates it enters at the top. It has a brass top or cover which receives the person's head, as he sits on a seat, and is fastened on the inside by screws.

  "On this brass head are fixed eight glasses, viz: two before, two on each side, one behind, and one to look out upwards. On the same brass head are fixed two brass tubes to admit fresh air when requisite, and a ventilator at the side, to free the machine from the air rendered unfit for respiration.

  "On the inside is fixed a barometer, by which he can tell the depth he is under water; a compass by which he knows the course he steers. In the barometer, and on the needles of the compass, i
s fixed fox-fire--that is, wood that gives light in the dark. His ballast consists of about nine hundred-weight of lead, which he carries at the bottom and on the outside of the machine, part of which is so fixed as he can let run down to the bottom, and serves as an anchor by which he can ride _ad libitum_.

  "He has a sounding lead fixed at the bow, by which he can take the depth of water under him, and a forcing-pump by which he can free the machine at pleasure, and can rise above water, and again immerge, as occasion requires.

  "In the bow he has a pair of oars fixed like the two opposite arms of a windmill, with which he can row forward, and, turning them the opposite way, row the machine backward; another pair, fixed upon the same model, with which he can row the machine round, either to the right or left; and a third by which he can row the machine either up or down; all of which are turned by foot, like a spinning wheel. The rudder by which he steers he manages by hand, within-board.

  "All these shafts which pass through the machine are so curiously fixed as not to admit any water.

  "The magazine for the powder is carried on the hinder part of the machine, without-board, and so contrived that, when he comes under the side of a ship, he rubs down the side until he comes to the keel, and a hook so fixed as that when it touches the keel it raises a spring which frees the magazine from the machine, and fastens it to the side of the ship; at the same time it draws a pin, which sets the watch-work a-going, which, at a given time, springs the lock, and an explosion ensues."

  Thus wrote Dr. Benjamin Gale to Silas Deane, member of Congress atPhiladelphia. His letter bears the date November 9, 1775, and, afterdescribing the wonderful machine, he adds:

  "I well know the man. Lately he has conducted matters with the greatest secrecy, both for the personal safety of the navigator, and to produce the greater astonishment to those against whom it is designed; and, you may call me a visionary, an enthusiast, or what you please, I do insist upon it that I believe the inspiration of the Almighty has given him understanding for this very purpose and design."

  When the seine-house door had been fastened open, when Dr. Franklinand Dr. Gale had gone within, followed by the two brothers, Mr.Bushnell and his wife stood without looking in, and wondering intheir hearts what the sight they saw could mean; for, of theintent or purpose of the curious, oaken, iron-bound, many-paddled,brass-headed, window-lighted thing, they, it must be remembered, knewnothing. It must mean something extraordinary, of course, or DoctorFranklin would never have thought it worth his while to come out ofhis way to behold it.

  "Father," whispered Mrs. Bushnell, "it's the _fish_ David has been allsummer catching."

  "Fish!" ejaculated Mr. Bushnell, "it's more like a turtle."

  "That's good!" spoke up Dr. Gale, from within. "Turtle it shall be."

  "It is the first _submarine_ boat ever made--a grand idea, wroughtinto substance," slowly pronounced Dr. Franklin; "let us have it forthinto the river."

  "And run the risk of discovery?" suggested David, pleased that hiswork approved itself to the man of science.

  "We meant to try it last night, but failed," said Ezra Bushnell.

  "There, now, father, don't you wish we had staid at home?" whisperedMrs. Bushnell.

  "No!" growled the father. "They would have killed themselves gettingit down alone."

  He stepped within and laid his hand on the machine, saying:

  "Anna, you keep watch, and, if any boat heaves in sight, let us know.Does the Turtle snap, David?" he questioned, putting forth his handand laying it cautiously upon the animal.

  "Never, until the word is given," replied the son, and then ten stronghands applied the strength within them to lift the curious piece ofmechanism and carry it without.

  The seine-house was close to the river-bank, and in a half-hour's timethe American Turtle was in its native element.

  Madam Anna Bushnell kept strict watch over the shores and the river,but not a sail slid into sight, not an oar troubled the waters of thetide, as it tossed back the tumble of the down-flowing river.

  It was a hard duty for the mother to perform; for, at a glance towardthe bank, she saw David step into the machine, and the brass coverclose down over his head. She felt suffocating fears for him, as, atlast, the thing began to move into the stream. She saw it go out, shesaw it slowly sinking, going down out of sight, until even the brasshead was submerged.

  Then she forsook her post, and hastened to the bank to keep watch withthe rest.

  One, two, three minutes went by. The men looked at the surface of thewaters, at each other, grew thoughtful, pale; the mother gasped anddropped on the salt grass, fainting; the brother gave to Lady Fenwicka running push, bounded on board, and clutched the oars to row swiftlyto the spot where David went down.

  Mr. Bushnell filled his hat with water, and sprinkled the pale face inthe sedge.

  "_There! there!_" cried Dr. Franklin, with distended eyes and eageroutlook.

  "_Where? where?_" ejaculated Dr. Gale, striving to take into visionthe whole surface of the river, at a glance.

  "It's all right! He's coming up _plump_!" shouted Ezra, from his boat,as he rowed with speed for the spot where a brass tube was rising,sun-burnished, from the Connecticut.

  Presently the brass head, with its very small windows, emerged, eventhe oaken sides were rising,--and Mr. Bushnell was greeting thereturning consciousness of his wife with the words:

  "It's all right, mother. David is safe."

  "Don't let him know," were the first words she spoke, "that his ownmother was so faithless as to doubt!"

  And now, paddle, paddle, toward the river-bank came the Turtle, DavidBushnell's head rising out of its shell, proud confidence shiningforth from his eyes, as feet and hands busied themselves in navigatingthe boat that had lived for months in his brain, and now was living,in very substance, under his control.

  As he neared the bank a shout of acclamation greeted him.

  He reached the island, was fairly dragged forth from his seat, andcarried up to the spot where his mother sat, trying to overcome everytrace of past doubt and fear.

  "Now," said Dr. Gale, "let us give thanks unto Him who hath giventhis youth understanding to do this great work."

  With bared heads and devout hearts the thanksgiving went upward, andthereafter a perfect shower of questions pelted David Bushnellconcerning his device to blow up ships: _how_ he came to think of itat all--_where_ he got this idea and that as to its construction--toall of which he simply said:

  "_You'll find your answer in the prayer you've just offered!_"

  "But," said practical Mr. Bushnell, "the Lord did not send you moneyto buy oak and iron and brass, did he?"

  "Yes," returned David, "by the hand of my good friend, Dr. Gale. Tohim belongs half the victory."

  "Pshaw! pshaw!" impatiently uttered the doctor. "I tell you it is _nosuch thing_! I only advanced My Lady here," turning to Madam Bushnell,"a little money, on her promise to pay me at some future time. I'mmightily ashamed _now_ that I took the promise at all. Madam Bushnell,I'll never take a penny of it back again, _never_, as long as I live.I _will_ have a little of the credit of this achievement, and no oneshall hinder me."

  "How is that, mother?" questioned Mr. Bushnell. "_You_ borrow moneyand not tell me!" and David and Ezra looked at her.

  "I--I--" stammered forth the woman, "I only _guessed_ that David wasdoing something that he wanted money for, and told Dr. Gale if hegave it to him I would repay it. Do you _care_, father?"

  Before he had a chance to get an answer in, David Bushnell steppedforward, and, taking the little figure of his mother in his arms,kissed her sharply, and walked away, to give some imaginary attentionto the Turtle at the bank.

  "It is a fair land to work for!" spoke up Doctor Franklin, lookingabout upon river and earth and sea; "worthy it is of our highestefforts; of our lives, even, if need be. God give us strength as ourneed _shall_ be."

  With many a tug and pull and hearty heave-ho, the Tu
rtle was hoistedup the bank and safely drawn into the seine-house. The door waslocked, and Lady Fenwick's tomb gave forth no sound that night.

  Doctor Franklin went his way to Boston. Doctor Gale returned toKillingworth and his waiting patients, and the Bushnells, father,mother and sons, having put the two gentlemen on the Saybrook shore,went down the river into the Sound, along its edge, and up the smallPochaug to their own home by the sycamore tree.

  Mr. Bushnell and Ezra did the rowing that night. David's white handshad, somehow, a new radiance in them for his father's eyes, and didnot seem exactly fitted for rowing just a common boat and every-dayoars.

  The young man sat in the stern, beside his mother, one arm around herwaist, and the other clasped closely between her little palms, while,now and then, her finding eyes would penetrate his consciousness witha glance that seemed to say, "I always believed in you, David."

  * * * * *

  If you go to-day and stand upon the site of the old fort, built at themouth of the Connecticut River, in the year 1635, by Lion Gardiner,once engineer in the service of the Prince of Orange, and search thewaters up and down for the island on which David Bushnell built theAmerican Turtle in 1775, you will not find it.

  If you seek the oldest inhabitant of Saybrook, and ask him to pointout its locality, he will say, with boyhood's fondness for oldenplay-grounds in his tone:

  "Ah, yes! It is _Poverty_ Island that you mean. It used to be there,but spring freshets and beating storms have washed it away."

  The unexpected visit of Dr. Benjamin Franklin, to see the machineDavid Bushnell was building, gave new force to that young gentleman'sconfidence in his own powers of invention.

  He worked with increased energy and hope to perfect boat and magazine,that he might do good service with them before winter should fall onthe waters of the Massachusetts Bay, where the hostile ships werelying.

  At last came the day wherein the final trial-trip should be made. Thepumps built by Mr. Doolittle, but not according to order, had failedonce, but new ones had been supplied, and everything seemedpropitious. David and Ezra, with their mother in the boat, rowed oncemore to Poverty Island. "On the morrow the great venture shouldbegin," they said.

  The time was mid-October. The forests had wrapped the cooling coast inwarmth of coloring that was soft and many-hued as the shawls ofCashmere, while the sun-made fringe of goldenrod fell along the shoresof river and island and sea.

  Mrs. Bushnell's heart beat proudly above the fond affection that couldnot suppress a shiver, as the Turtle was pushed into the stream. Shecould not help seeing that David made a line fast from the seine-houseto his boat ere he went down. They watched many minutes to see himrise to the surface, but he did not.

  "Mother," said Ezra, "the pump for forcing water out when he wants torise don't work, and we must pull him in. He feared it."

  As he spoke the words he laid hold on the line, and began gently todraw on it.

  "Hurry! hurry! _do!_" cried Mrs. Bushnell, seizing the same line closeto the water's edge, and drawing on it with all her strength. She wasvexed that Ezra had not told her the danger in the beginning, and she"knew _very_ well that SHE would not have stood there and let Daviddie of suffocation, in that horrid, brass-topped coffin!"

  "Hold, mother!" cried Ezra; "pull gently, or the line may part on somebarnacled rock if it gets caught."

  Nevertheless, Mrs. Bushnell pulled in as fast as she could.

  The tide was sweeping up the river, and a shark, in hard chase after aschool of menhaden, swam steadily up, with fin out of water.

  Just as the shark reached the place, he made a dive, and the ropeparted!

  Mrs. Bushnell screamed a word or two of the terror that had seizedher. Ezra looked up, amazed to find the rope coming in so readily,hand over hand. He cast it down, sprang to the boat, and pushed off tothe possible rescue, only to find that the Turtle was making for theriver-bank instead of the island.

  He rowed to the spot. His brother, for the first time in his life, wasovercome with disappointment and disinclined to talk.

  "I--I," said David, wiping his forehead. "I grew tired, and made forshore. The tide was taking me up fast."

  "Did you let go the line?" questioned Ezra.

  "Yes."

  "The pump works all right, then?"

  "Yes."

  "You've frightened mother terribly."

  "Have I? I never thought. I _forgot_ she was here. Let us get back,then;" and the two brothers, without speaking a word, rowed downagainst the sweep of tide, the great Turtle in tow.

  The three went home, still keeping a silence broken only by briefestpossible question and answer.

  The golden October night fell upon the old town. Pochaug River, itslone line of silver gathered in many a stretch of interval into whichthe moon looked calmly down, lay on the land for many a mile.

  Again and again, during the evening, David Bushnell went out from thehouse and stood silently on the rough bridge that crossed the river bythe door.

  "Let David alone, mother," urged Ezra, as she was about to follow himon one occasion. "He is thinking out something, and is better alone."

  That which the young man was thinking at the moment was, that hewished the moon would hurry and go down. He longed for darkness.

  The night was growing cold. Frost was in the air.

  As he stood on the rough logs, a post-rider, hurrying by with letters,came up.

  "Holloa there!" he called aloud, not liking the looks of the man onthe bridge.

  "It's I,--David Bushnell, Joe Downs! You can ride by in safety," heresponded, ringing out one of his merriest chimes of laughter at thevery idea of being taken for a highwayman.

  "I've news," said Joe; "want it?"

  "Yes."

  Joe Downs opened his pocket, and, by the light of the moon, found theletter he had referred to.

  "Dr. Gale told me not to fail to put this into your hands as I cameby. I should kind o' judge, by the way he _spoke_, that the continentcouldn't get along very well _'thout you_, if I hadn't known a thingor two. Howsomever, here's the letter, and I've to jog on to Guilfordafore the moon goes down. So good-night."

  "Good night, Joe. Thank you for stopping," said David, going into thehouse.

  "Were you expecting that letter, David?" questioned Mr. Bushnell, whenit had been read.

  "No, sir. It is from Dr. Gale. He asks me to hasten matters as far aspossible, but a new contrivance will have to go in before I amready."

  "There! _That's_ what troubles him," thought both Mrs. Bushnell andEzra, and they exchanged glances of sympathy and satisfaction--and thelittle household went to sleep, quite care-free that night.

  At two of the clock, with nearly noiseless tread, David Bushnell leftthe house.

  As the door closed his mother moved uneasily in her sleep, and awokewith the sudden consciousness that something uncanny had happened. Shelooked from a window and saw, by the light of a low-lying moon, thatDavid had gone out.

  Without awakening her husband she protected herself with needfulclothing, and, wrapped about in one of the curious plaid blankets ofmingled blue and white, adorned with white fringe, that are yet to befound in the land, she followed into the night.

  Save for the sleepy tinkle of the water over the stones in the PochaugRiver, and an occasional cry of a night-bird still lingering by thesea, the air was very still.

  With light tread across the bridge she ran a little way, and thenventured a timid cry of her own into the night:

  "David! David!"

  Now David Bushnell hoped to escape without awakening his mother. Hewas lingering near, to learn whether his going had disturbed anyone,and he was quite prepared for the call.

  Turning back to meet her he thought: "_What_ a mother _mine_ is." Andhe said, "Well, mother, what is it? I was afraid I might disturbyou."

  "O David!" was all that she could utter in response.

  "And so _you_ are troubled about me, are you? I'm only going to chasethe wi
ll-o'-the-wisp a little while, and I could not do it, you know,until moon-down."

  "_O_ David!" and this time with emphatic pressure on his arm, "David,come home. _I_ can't let you go off alone."

  "Come with me, then. You're well blanketed, I see. I'd much ratherhave some one with me, only Ezra was tired and sleepy."

  He said this with so much of his accustomed manner that Mrs. Bushnellput her hand within his arm and went on, quite content now, andwilling that he should speak when it pleased him to do so, and itpleased him very soon.

  "Little mother," he said, "I am afraid you are losing faith in me."

  "Never! David; only--I _was_ a little afraid that you were losing yourown head, or faith in yourself."

  "No; but I _am_ afraid I've lost my faith in something else. I showedyou the two bits of fox-fire that were crossed on one end of theneedle in the compass, and the one bit made fast to the other? Well,to-day, when I went to the bottom of the river, the fox-fire gave nolight, and the compass was useless. Can you understand how bad thatwould be under an enemy's ship, not to know in which direction tonavigate?"

  "You must have fresh fire, then."

  "_That_ is just what I am out for to-night. I had to wait till themoon was gone."

  "Oh! is _that_ all? How foolish I have been! but you ought to tell mesome things, sometimes, David."

  "And so I will. I tell you now that it will be well for you to go homeand go to sleep. I may have to go deep into the woods to find the fireI want."

  But his mother only walked by his side a little faster than before,and on they went to a place where a bit of woodland had grown up abovefallen trees.

  They searched in places wherein both had seen the fire of decayingwood a hundred times, but not one gleam of phosphorescence could befound anywhere. At last they turned to go homeward.

  "What will you do, David? Go and search in the Killingworth woodsto-morrow night?" she asked, as they drew near home.

  "It is of no use," he said, with a sigh. "It _must_ be that the frostdestroys the fox-fire. Unless Dr. Franklin knows of a light that willnot eat up the air, everything must be put off until spring."

  The next day David Bushnell went to Killingworth, to tell the story toDr. Gale, and Dr. Gale wrote to Silas Deane (Conn. Historical Col.,Vol. 2), begging him to inquire of Dr. Franklin concerning thepossibility of using the Philosopher's Lantern, but no light wasfound, and the poor Turtle was housed in the seine-house on PovertyIsland during the long winter, which proved to be one of greatmildness from late December to mid-February.

  In February we find David Bushnell before Governor Jonathan Trumbulland his Council at Lebanon, to tell about and illustrate the marvelsof his wonderful machine.

  During this time the whole affair had been kept a profound secretfrom all but the faithful few surrounding the inventor. And now, ifever, the time was drawing near wherein the labor and outlay musteither repay laborer and lender, or give to both great trouble anddistress.

  I cannot tell you with what trepidation the young man walked into theWar Office at Lebanon, with a very small Turtle under his arm.

  You will please remember the situation of the colonists at thatmoment. On the land they feared not to contend with Englishmen. Loveof liberty in the Provincials was strong enough, when united with atrusty musket and a fair supply of powder, to encounter red-coatedregulars of the British army; but on the ocean, and in every bay,harbor and river, they were powerless. The enemy's ships had keptBoston in siege for nearly two years, the Americans having no opposingforce to contend with them.

  Could this little Turtle, which David Bushnell carried under his arm,do the work he wished it to, why, every ship of the line could beblown into the air!

  The inventor had faith in his invention, but he feared, when he lookedinto the faces of the grave Governor and his Council of War, that hecould _never_ impart his own belief to them.

  I cannot tell you with what trust of heart and faith of soul Mrs.Bushnell kept the February day in the house by the bridge at Pochaug.Even the strong-minded, sturdy-nerved Mr. Bushnell looked often upthe road by which David and Ezra would approach from Lebanon, with akeen interest in his eyes; but he would not let any word escape him,until darkness had fallen and they were not come.

  "He said he would be here at eight, at the very latest," said themother at length, and she went to the fire and placed before theburning coals two chickens to broil.

  "I'm afraid David won't have much appetite, unless his model _should_be approved, and money is too precious to spend on _experiments_,"said Mr. Bushnell, as she returned to his side.

  "Do you mean to tell me you _doubt_?"

  "Of course I doubt. Jonathan Trumbull is a man not at all likely togive his consent to anything that does not commend itself to commonsense."

  Mr. Bushnell was saved the pain of saying his thought, that he wasafraid, if David's plan was a good one, _somebody_ would have thoughtof it long ago, for vigorous knuckles were at work upon thewinter-door.

  As soon as it was opened the genial form of good Dr. Gale stoodrevealed.

  "Are the boys back yet?" he asked, stepping within.

  "No, but we expect them every minute," said Mr. Bushnell.

  "Well, friends, I had a patient within three miles of you to visit,and I thought I'd come on and hear the news."

  Ere he was fully made welcome to hearth and home, in walked David,with the little Turtle under his arm. Without ado he went up to hismother and said:

  "Madam, I present this to you, with Governor Trumbull's compliments.He has ordered your boy money, men, metals and powder without stint towork with. _Wish me joy, won't you?_"

  I do not anywhere find a record of the words in which the joy waswished, on that 2nd of February, a hundred years ago, but it is easyto imagine the very tones in which the good, God-loving Dr. Gale gavethanks for the new blessing that had that day fallen on his friend'shouse.

  It is impossible to follow David Bushnell in his many journeys to theiron furnaces of Salisbury, in the spring and early summer of 1776,during which time the entire country was aroused and astir from theremoval of the American army from Boston to New York; and our friendsat Saybrook were busy as bees from morning till night, in gettingready perfect machines for duty.

  David Bushnell's strength proved insufficient to navigate one of hisTurtles in the tidal waters of the Sound, and his brother Ezra learnedto do it most perfectly.

  In the latter end of June, the British fleet, which had sailed out ofBoston harbor so ingloriously on the 17th of March, for Halifax, thereto await re-inforcements, appeared in waters adjacent to New York.

  The signal of their approach was gladly hailed by the inventor and bythe navigator of the American Turtle.

  A whale-boat from New London, her seamen sworn to inviolable secrecy,was ordered to be in the river at a given point, on a given night, fora service of which the men were utterly ignorant.

  On the evening previous, Ezra Bushnell, overworn by many attempts atnavigating the machine, was taken seriously ill. At midnight he wasdelirious--at day-dawn Dr. Gale was sent for.

  When night fell he was in a raging fever, with no prospect of rapidrecovery.

  David set off alone, and with a heavy heart, to meet the boatmen. Inthe seine-house on Poverty Island the brothers had stored provisionsfor a cruise of several days. To this spot David Bushnell went alone,and with a saddened heart, for he knew that it must be many days erehe could learn of his brother's condition.

  The New London boatmen were promptly at the appointed place ofmeeting.

  When they saw the curious thing they were told to take in tow, theircuriosity knew no bounds; and it was only when assured that it wasdangerous to examine it, that they desisted from their determinationto know all about it, and consented to obey orders.

  When, at last, a departure was made, the hour was midnight, the tideserved, and no ill-timed discovery was made of the deed.

  The strong-armed boatmen rowed well and long, and, as daylight dawned,they
were directed to keep a look-out for Faulkner's Island, a smallbit of land in the Sound, nearly five miles from the Connecticutshore.

  The flashing light that illumines the waters at night for us, did notgleam on them, but nevertheless, the high brown bank and the littleslope of land looked inviting to weary men, as they cautiously rowednear to it, not knowing whom they might meet there.

  They landed, made a fire, cooked their food, ate of it, and lay downto sleep until night should come again.

  They set out early in the ensuing twilight, and rowed westward allnight, in the face of a gentle wind.

  "If there were only another Faulkner's Island to flee to," said Mr.Bushnell, as morning drew near. "Do you know (to one of the men) asafe place to hide in on this coast?"

  They were then off Merwin's Point, and between West Haven andMilford.

  "There's Poquahaug," was the reply, with a momentary catch of the oar,and incline of the head toward the south-west.

  "_What_ is Poquahaug?"

  "A little island, pretty well in, close to shore, as it were, and,maybe, deserted."

  After deliberate council had been held it was resolved to examine thelocality.

  A few years after New Haven and Milford churches were formed under theoak-tree at New Haven, this little island, to which they were fleeingto hide the Turtle from daylight, was "granted to Charles Deal for atobacco plantation, provided that he would not trade with the Dutch orIndians;" but now Indians, Dutch and Charles Deal alike had left it,the latter with a rude, sheltering building in place of Ansantawae'sbig summer wigwam that used to adorn its crest.

  To this spot, bright with grass, and green with full-foliaged trees ofoak on its eastern shore, the weary boatmen, who had had a long, hardpull of twenty miles to make, came, just as the longest day's sun wasat its rising.

  They were so glad and relieved _and_ satisfied to find no one on it.

  The Turtle was left at anchor near the shore; the whale-boat gave upof its provisions, and presently the little camp was in the enjoymentof a long day of rest and refreshment.

  Should anyone approach from the seaward or from the mainland, it wasdetermined that the party should resolve itself into a band offishermen, fishing for striped bass, for which the locality was wellknown.

  As the day wore on, and the falling tide revealed a line of stonesthat gradually increased, as the water fell, to a bar a hundred feetwide, stretching from the island to the sands of the Connecticutshore, David Bushnell perceived that the locality was just the properplace in which to learn and teach the art of navigating the Turtle. Heexamined the region well, and then called the men together.

  They were staunch, good-hearted fellows, accustomed to long pulls innorthern seas after whales, and that they were patriotic he fullybelieved. The Turtle was drawn up under the grassy bank, where thelong sedge half hid, and bushels of rock-weed and sea-drift whollyconcealed it, and then, in a few carefully-chosen words, DavidBushnell entrusted it to the watch and care of the boatmen.

  "I am going to leave it here, and you with it, until I return," hesaid. "Guard it with your lives if need be. If you handle it, it willbe at the risk of life. If you keep it _well_, Congress will rewardyou."

  The mystery of the whole affair enchanted the men. They made faithfulpromises, and, in the glorious twilight of the evening, rowed DavidBushnell across the beautiful stretch of Sound that to-day separatesCharles Island from the comely old town of Milford.

  As the whale-boat went up the harbor, a sailing vessel was gettingready to depart.

  Finding that it was bound to New York, David Bushnell took passage init the same night.

  Two days later, with a letter from Governor Trumbull to GeneralWashington as his introduction, the young man, by command of thelatter, sought out General Parsons, and "requested him to furnish himwith two or three men to learn the navigation of his new machine.General Parsons immediately sent for Ezra Lee, then a sergeant, andtwo others, who had _offered_ their services to go on board afireship; and, on Bushnell's request being made known to them, theyenlisted themselves under him for this novel piece of service."

  Returning to Poquahaug (the Indian name of Charles Island), theAmerican Turtle was found safe and sound. Here the little party spentmany days in experimenting with it in the waters about the island; andin the Housatonic River.

  During this time the enemy had got possession of a portion of LongIsland, and of Governor's Island in the harbor--thus preventing theapproach to New York by the East River.

  When the appalling news of the battle of Long Island reached DavidBushnell, he resolved, cost what it might of danger to himself, orhazard to the Turtle, to get it to New York with all speed.

  To that end he had it conveyed by water to New Rochelle, there landedand carried across the country to the Hudson River, and presently wehear of it as being on a certain night, late in August, ready to starton its perilous enterprise.

  If you will go to-day and stand where the Turtle floated that night(for the land has since that time grown outward into the sea), on yourright hand across the Hudson River, you will see New Jersey. At yourleft, across the East River, Long Island begins, with the beautifulGovernor's Island in the bay just before you, and, looking to thesouthward, in the distance, you will discern Staten Island.

  Let us go back to that day and hour.

  The precise date of the Turtle's voyage down the bay is not given, butthe time must have been on the night of either the thirtieth orthirty-first of August. We will choose the thirtieth, and imagineourselves standing in the crowd by the side of Generals Washington andPutnam, to see the machine start.

  Remember, now, where we stand. It is only _last_ night that _our_army, defeated, dispirited, exhausted by battle, lay across the riveron Brooklyn Heights. Behind it, busy with pickaxe and shovel, thevictorious troops of Mother England were making ready to "finish" theAmericans on the morrow.

  There were supposed to be twenty-four thousand of the enemy, only ninethousand Continentals; and, just ready to enter East River and cutthem off from New York, lay the British fleet to the north of StatenIsland.

  As happened at Boston in March, so happened it last night in New York,a friendly fog held the heights of Brooklyn in its grasp, while at NewYork all was clear.

  Under cover of this fog General Washington withdrew across the river,a mile or more in width, _nine thousand men_, with all their"baggage, stores, provisions, horses, and munitions of war," and not aman of the enemy knew that they were gone until the fog lifted.

  Now, as we stand, Long Island, Governor's Island, Staten Island, oneand all are under the control of Britons.

  David Bushnell is in a whale-boat, down close to the Turtle, givingsome last important words of direction to brave Ezra Lee, who hasstepped within it. David Bushnell could not help wishing, as he didso, that he could take his place and guide the spirit of the child ofhis own creation, in its first great encounter with the world.

  The word is given. The brass top of the Turtle is shut down. Watchfuleyes and swift rowers belonging to the enemy are keeping guard onGovernor's Island, by which Ezra Lee must row, and it is safer to gounder water. How crowded this little pier would be, did theinhabitants but know what is going on!

  The whale-boats start out, David Bushnell in one of them. They mean totake the Turtle in tow the minute it is safe to do so and save EzraLee the labor of rowing it until the last minute.

  It is eleven o'clock. All silently they dip the oars, and hear thesentinels cry from camp and shore.

  Past the island, in safety, at last. They look for the Turtle. Up itcomes, a distant watch-light gleaming across its brass head disclosingits presence. Once more it is in tow, and Lee is in the whale-boat.

  Down the bay they go, until the lights from the fleet grow dangerouslynear.

  On the wide, wind-stirred waters of New York Bay, Ezra Lee gets intothe Turtle, and is cast off, and left alone, for the whale-boatsreturn to New York.

  With the rudder in his hand, and his _feet_ upon
the oars, he pursueshis way. The strong ebb tide flows fast, and, before he is aware ofit, it has drifted him down past the men-of-war.

  However, he immediately _gets the machine about_, and, "by hard laborat the crank for the space of five glasses by the ships' bells, or twoand a half hours, he arrives under the stern of one of the ships atabout slack water."

  Day is now beginning to dawn. He can see the people on board, and hearthem talk.

  The moment has come for diving. He closes up quickly overhead, lets inthe water, and goes down under the ship's bottom.

  He now applies the screw and does all in his power to make it enter,but in vain; it will not pierce the ship's copper. Undaunted, hepaddles along to a different part, hoping to find a softer place; but,in doing this, in his hurry and excitement, he manages the mechanismso that the Turtle instantly arises to the surface on the east side ofthe ship, and is at once exposed to the piercing light of day.

  Again he goes under, hoping that he has not been seen.

  This time his courage fails. It is getting to be day. If the ship'sboats are sent after him his escape will be very difficult, well-nighimpossible, and, if he saves himself at all, it must be by rowing morethan four miles.

  He gives up the enterprise with reluctance, and starts for New York.

  Governor's Island _must_ be passed by. He draws near to it, as near ashe can venture, and then submerges the Turtle. Alas! something hasbefallen the compass. It will not guide the rowing under the sea.

  Every few minutes he is compelled to rise to the surface to look outfrom the top of the machine to guide his course, and his track growsvery zig-zag through the waters.

  Ah! the soldiers at Governor's Island see the Turtle! Hundreds aregathering upon the parapet to watch its motions, such a curious boatas it is, with turret of brass bobbing up and down, sinking,disappearing--coming to the surface again in a manner _wholly_unaccountable.

  Brave Lee knows his danger, and paddles away for dear life and love offamily up in Lyme, eating breakfast quietly now he remembers, notknowing his peril.

  Once more he goes up to take a lookout, to see where White-hall sliplies.

  A glance at Governor's Island, and he sees a barge shove off ladenwith his enemies.

  Down again, and up, and he sees it making for him. _There is noescape!_ What _can_ he do!

  "If I must die," he thinks, "they shall die with me!" and he lets gothe magazine.

  Nearer and nearer--the barge is _very_ close. "If they pick me up theywill pick that up," thinks Lee, "and we shall all be blown to atomstogether!"

  They are now within a hundred and fifty feet of the Turtle and theysee the magazine that he has detached.

  "Some horrible Yankee trick!" cries a British soldier. "_Beware!_" Andthey do beware by turning and rowing with all speed for the islandwhence they came.

  Poor Lee looks out with amazement to see them go. He is well-nighexhausted, _and the magazine, with its dreadful clock-work going onwithin it, and its hundred and fifty pounds of powder, ready to go offat a given moment_, is floating on behind him, borne by the tide.

  He strains every muscle to near New York. He signals the shore.

  Since daylight Putnam has been there keeping watch. David Bushnell haspaced up and down all night, in keen anxiety.

  The friendly whale-boats put out to meet him.

  Meanwhile, slowly borne by the coming tide, the magazine floats intothe East River.

  "It will blow up in five minutes now," says Bushnell, looking at hiswatch, and he goes to welcome Ezra Lee.

  The five minutes go by.

  Suddenly, with tremendous voice, and awful uproar of the sea, themagazine explodes.

  Columns of water toss high in air, mingled with the oaken ribs thatheld the powder but a minute ago.

  Consternation seizes British troops on Long Island. The brave soldierson the parapet at Governor's Island quake with fear. All New Yorkrushes to the river-side to find out what it can mean. Nothing, on allthe face of the earth, _ever_ happened like it before, one and alldeclare.

  Opinion varies concerning it, from bomb to earthquake, from meteor towater-spout, and settles down on neither.

  Poor Ezra Lee feels that he _meant_ well, but did not act wisely.David Bushnell praises the sergeant, and takes all the want of successto himself, in not going to do his own work.

  Meanwhile, with astonishment, Generals Washington and Putnam and DavidBushnell himself behold, as did the Provincials, _after_ the battle of_Bunker-Breed's_ Hill, _victory in defeat_, for lo! no British shipsails up the East River, or appears to bombard New York.

  Silently they weigh anchor and drop down the bay. The little AmericanTurtle gained a bloodless victory that day.

  NOTE.--The writer has carefully followed, in the account of the Turtle's attempt upon the Eagle, the statement of Ezra Lee, made to Mr. Charles Griswold of Lyme, more than forty years after the occurrence, and by him communicated to the _American Journal of Science and Arts_ in 1820. For the description of the wonderful mechanism of the machine, the account given _at the time_ by Dr. Gale in his letters to Silas Deane has been chosen, as probably more accurate than one made from memory after forty years had passed.

  * * * * *

  David Bushnell was appointed from civil life Captain-Lieutenant of aCorps of Sappers and Miners--recommended for the position by GovernorTrumbull, General Parsons and others. June 8, 1781, he was promotedfull Captain. He was present at the siege of Yorktown and commandedthe Corps in 1783.

  He was also a member of the Society of the Cincinnati.