CHAPTER VI.
THE YOUNG CAPTAIN UNDER FIRE.
THE day is breaking. A vessel of two hundred and fifty tons liescompletely enveloped in a dense, damp fog, and becalmed, off the coastof France, in the Mediterranean.
It is impossible to discern an object twice the length of the vessel.Let us go alongside, and see if we can arrive at any conclusionrespecting her character and business. She is evidently of Americanbuild, though she shows no colors; but spreading a cloud of canvas,modelled and rigged entirely with reference to speed, and thoughunarmed, with a much larger crew than would be required in the ordinarypursuits of commerce. The appearance of the crew as to dress is quitein contrast to that of a ship’s crew at the present time, for duringthe last forty years there has been a gradual change in the clothingof seafaring men, rendering it not only more comfortable, but muchlighter.
At that time, sailors wore, for head covering, tarpaulins. These weregenerally made by the men themselves at leisure moments on board ship.The process was this: as the course of trade in those days was chieflyto the West Indies, they procured the leaves of the dwarf palm, whichthey split into proper widths and platted, making the button, in themiddle of the crown, of the same material, though some, as a matterof fancy, took the lead tags that came on bolts of canvas, and somea piece of money, and punching holes in the rim, began their work onthat. After the braid was made, it was sewed together with ravellingsof duck; then, if there was a pig killed on board, or a porpoiseharpooned, they soaked the hat in the blood and let it dry, to makeit stiff (this was sailors’ paste), then covered it with canvas, thenmixed tar, grease, and salt water together, and daubed it with thecomposition to render it water-proof; but after a while they found thatblack paint was just as good, and much lighter. Then tarpaulins gaveway to peaked red caps, Scotch caps, and finally the present dress wasadopted. But the crew of the brigantine wore tarpaulins of still moreancient dates, and of enormous weight, made by covering thick wool hatswith tar and canvas. The dress of landsmen at that time was breechesand long hose, but sailors wore trousers very wide at the bottom ofthe legs, the rule for the width, being the length of the foot; ontheir feet, for dress-up to go ashore, slippers that showed the jointof the great toe. Sheath knives were not worn, except occasionally bysome Spanish sailor; they used large, square-pointed jack-knives ofEnglish manufacture, slung to the neck by a lanyard. The officers, bothcaptain and mate, wore at sea short jackets. If a mate then had worna long-tail coat, the sailors would have cut the tails off with theirjack-knives. Every one of the ship’s company wore his hair in a cue,which was wound, when at sea, with an eel-skin, but with a ribbon whengoing ashore, and hung down the back. When at work it was frequentlycoiled around the top of the head and covered with the hat. Men pridedthemselves on the length of their cue, and in their watch below,watchmates combed out and tied up each other’s cues, and the cook orsteward took care of the captain’s.
She looks, for all the world, like a slaver. The use of copper onthe bottom of vessels was scarcely known then, and as she rolls towindward, little spots of grease are seen floating on the water, and weperceive that her bottom is covered with a coat of tallow and soap, toincrease her speed to the utmost.
There is something in the appearance of the man who is climbingthe main rigging that seems familiar. Looking more closely, we aredelighted to recognize our old acquaintance Walter Griffin, now growinginto a lithe, fine-looking young man. He is acting as second mate, thatofficer being sick with a carbuncle on the back of his neck, the painof which made him nearly frantic.
Walter was remarkably keen of sight and quick of hearing, and thereforewent aloft as lookout, instead of a sailor. Although there was nopossibility of discerning anything from the deck at any considerabledistance, yet as the fog hung low, it was somewhat clearer aloft. Therewas also a probability that the fog might scale when the sun rose, or abreeze springing up sweep it away.
There is evidently great anxiety among the ship’s company to gainintelligence, for all hands are on deck, the men clustered as thick asbees on the forecastle. The mate, a stranger, paces the quarter-deck.As Walter goes aloft aft, and another man forward, he cautions them, ifthey see or hear anything, not to hail the deck, but make a signal. Areal racer, and no mistake, this craft. Lashed to the bulwarks are hugesweeps, with which the numerous crew (for they are evidently pickedmen of large proportions) can move her with considerable speed in acalm. But what is she? Some slaver from the French islands, built inBaltimore, and trying to get home? But how comes Walter Griffin there?To increase our surprise, as we look at the men grouped together onthe forecastle, we recognize, seated on the heel of the bowsprit, ourold friend Peterson, the largest man of the crew, and just behind himhis son, who is fast emulating the massive proportions of his sire;but the usually cheerful face of the black was clouded with anxiety.On the end of the windlass, with one arm flung over the bitt, sitsSydney Chase, on the shank of the best bower anchor George Warren,a brother of Seth; and leaning against the stock of the anchor, inwhispered conversation with him, is another old acquaintance, DanforthEaton, recalling Elm Island, with all its home-like associations andinterests. We almost expect to see Uncle Isaac and Captain Rhines maketheir appearance next. Between the knight-heads is Enoch Hadlock,a brother of Sally Rhines. The rest of the crew are Pettigrews,Godsoes, Merrithews, Lancasters, Warrens, Athertons, and Elwells, allbelonging to Rhinesville, Pleasant Cove, or thereabouts. While thusperplexed, we gaze, seeking for some clew to guide us and unravelthe mystery, the vessel, having no steerage-way, swings lazilyround in the tide, presenting her stern to full view, where we read“Arthur Brown, Pleasant Cove,” and recognize in the boy sitting onthe foretop-gallant-yard, little Ned, and the next moment the manly,handsome face of Arthur Brown appears in the companion way.
It is all out now. Charlie has ground his broad-axe to some purpose.This is the vessel built by the Hard-scrabble boys and CaptainRhines for Arthur Brown, the noble offering of a manly, gratefulheart, repaying to the son the debt incurred to the deceased parent,and bearing on her stern the name of him whose body sleeps beneaththe waves that wash the cliffs of Abaco. What a contrast to theHard-scrabble! what a testimony of the energy and progressive ideasof her builders! She is a model of symmetry and beauty; yet you canplainly see the lines of the West Wind, of famous memory. Charlie hasput his whole soul in her; give her wind, she has evidently little tofear from the clumping British men-of-war.
But there is not a breath of wind; she lies helpless off the port ofMarseilles, which the English are blockading, deeply laden with acargo, every article of which is contraband of war.
It is the period when, after the outbreak of the French revolution,England had declared war against France, and, supreme at sea, wascapturing the French West Indies, and blockading their home ports.The great majority of the people in this country, especially all themercantile portion of the community, sympathized with France; theycherished a feeling of gratitude to her as our ally in the war of therevolution, a bitter hatred against England, growing out of the rightof search, which she exercised in the impressment of seamen, whicheventually led to the war of 1812.
It was all the government could do, aided by the great personalinfluence of Washington, to restrain the country from entering intoalliance with France against England, and coming to open hostilities.In this state of things, sharp vessels, manned by resolute men,conducted by skilful pilots, influenced by motives of friendship andself-interest on one side, and a bitter sense of oppression on theother, broke the blockade which Great Britain (whose fleets werescattered over a vast extent of ocean) attempted to maintain in respectto the French coasts and West Indies, and supplied them with both armsand provisions.
This is the errand of the Arthur Brown to run the blockade ofMarseilles, and accounts for the feeling of anxiety evident upon thefaces of both officers and crew, since their fortunes are alike atstake, as each one, in lieu of wages, receives a share in the profitsof the voyage, and if captured breaking the bloc
kade both ship andcargo would be confiscated. There was also another and more terriblecause for anxiety—the dread of impressment. The commanders of Englishships were accustomed to take men by force from American vessels,claiming them as British, disregarding the custom-house protection,which declared them to be American citizens, sometimes even tearingthem up, and they were dragged away to spend their lives in the Britishfleets. A terrible instance is on record, illustrating the dreadwhich in the minds of seamen was connected with impressment. A fine,stalwart, young American seaman, being about to be taken by force froman American merchantman, under pretence that he was an Englishman,seeing no way of escape from a bondage worse than death, clasped theboarding officer in his arms and leaped overboard with him, when bothsank, to rise no more till the great day of account.
In the course of half an hour, in obedience to a signal from Walter, aman ascended the rigging, and, coming down, reported that Griffin wassure he heard a rooster crow, and also the sound of oars in a rowlock.
The tide, which was at the flood, had drifted the vessel to theneighborhood of a large rock, that was dimly seen through the fog. Thecaptain called Peterson aft. “What rock is that, Peterson?” The blackgave him the French name, and pointed it out to him on the chart.
“Then we are right in with the land?”
“Yes, massa cap’n; there’s another one inside this, right abreast theharbor.”
Peterson, who was getting somewhat in years, having broken off hisintemperate habits, and obtaining good and constant employment athome, had given up all thoughts of ever again going to sea; butCaptain Rhines persuaded him to go in the “Arthur Brown” as pilot andinterpreter. Peterson’s parents were Guinea negroes; but the boy wasborn in Martinique, where his parents were slaves, and was sold, whena child, to the master of a vessel that traded to Marseilles, duringwhich time he became perfectly acquainted with the harbor. The Frenchcaptain finally sold him to Captain Hadlock, the father of SallyRhines, who sold him to Peterson, with whom he remained till slaverywas abolished in New England.
Captain Rhines had frequently availed himself of his knowledge aspilot, well knew his worth and reliability, and therefore insistedupon his going with Arthur Brown. No other person on board could speaka word of French, except Walter Griffin, and he not fluently, as hehad learned it but a short time before, but was daily improving byconversation with Peterson.
There was now a signal from the foremast, Ned Gates reporting that heheard blows as of a hammer on iron; and while all hands were anxiouslylistening, the sound of a boatswain’s whistle was faintly audible.
“Man the sweeps,” cried the captain, running to the compass to note thequarter from which the sound came. Taking the helm himself, while thewhole ship’s company applied their force to the sweeps, he steered ina direction opposite to that from which the sound that had so alarmedthem proceeded. An hour thus passed without any repetition of thesounds, when the fog suddenly lifted, the sun broke out, and they foundthemselves almost within range of an English frigate on the port bow,while a sloop of war lay some miles off on the other quarter. The crewredoubled their efforts at the oars.
“It’s no use, boys,” said the mate; “you might as well put on yourjackets; the frigate is getting out her boats; they’ll be alongside ofus before we can sweep half a mile.”
“Sweep away, men,” cried the young captain, who was coolly watching theclouds; “something may yet turn up in our favor.”
The man-o’-war’s-men, well aware of the character of the chase by theefforts put forth to escape, and anticipating a rich prize, strainedevery nerve, coming down upon their helpless victim with the speed ofan arrow. The sound of the oars in the rowlocks could now be distinctlyheard as the two leading boats diverged, one making for the fore andthe other for the main chains of the “Arthur.”
An expression of bitter anguish passed over the face of Arthur, ashe felt that all his fair prospects, the hopes of Captain Rhines andothers who had so nobly stepped forth to aid and start him in life,were to be blighted in the bud.
The boats were now close aboard, and the bowmen stood up to grapple theprize.
“Pull, men, for your lives!” shouted the captain, whose eye caught thesails; “there’s a breeze coming; _her length_, only her _length_ ahead.”
They exerted themselves to the utmost, while, in pure recklessness,Peterson burst into a song used by whalemen when towing a whale.
Despite their efforts, the foremost boat gained the quarter, and flunga grappling; it caught. Just then a light air filled the loftier sails,although there was not a breath of wind on deck. Slight as it was, itwas sufficient to shoot the swift craft ahead with accelerated speed,leaving one boat far astern, towing and well nigh upsetting the other.A sharp axe in the hand of Peterson descended upon the grapplingwarp, and the boat was left astern, as the increasing breeze filled,partially, the larger sails of the “Arthur.”
A broadside burst from the side of the frigate; but the shot all fellfar short, covering the water with foam.
The breeze now sensibly increased. The direction in which it sprung upbrought the frigate dead to windward.
“Dis be a bully grappling,” said Peterson, taking up the now harmlessimplement. “Me take him home to Massa Rhines, to moor his boat with.”
The light breeze, which propelled the swift brigantine withconsiderable velocity, was scarcely felt by the frigate; but as itgradually freshened she began to move through the water, and picking upher boats, crowded all sail in pursuit. But she had, during the lightwind, lost much precious time, profiting by which the brigantine hadincreased the distance between them.
But now the situation of things was entirely reversed. The frigate,though no match for the swift, sharp-built American, close-hauled ona wind; yet dead before it, her great bulk and vast cloud of sailrendered her superior; besides, as she could carry sail much longer,and the wind was every moment increasing, she would, after a while,drown the smaller vessel out. She was too near, at the outset, for thebrigantine to haul on the wind, and endeavor to cross her bows, asalready the shots from her guns began to fall uncomfortably near. Thewind was blowing in squalls; when the squall struck, the frigate wouldgain, and almost heave her shot on board; when the wind slacked, thebrigantine would gain. Directly ahead lay a cluster of islands, reefs,and outlying rocks; one island was called Pomegues, the other Rataneau.These islands are now connected by a breakwater; then they were not.The brow of the young captain now wore an expression of great anxiety;he called the mate and Peterson to his councils.
“We are doing all we can,” said the captain to his subordinates, “andas the wind increases we bury and she gains; her shot will soon becoming aboard.”
“I see no way,” replied the mate, “but to haul our sheets aft, andendeavor to cross her bows. If we could once get him on a wind, wecould shake him off.”
“Then,” replied the captain, “she would run square down on us; itis useless to attempt that. What is your advice, pilot?” addressinghimself to the black, who was too modest to obtrude his opinion uponhis superiors.
“Massa cap’n,” said the black, “dis darky know all dese rocks jes aslittle boy know his letters in de book. Dis island on de starboardhand, he Rataneau; bold water close along shore, till get down to depint; den he shoal, many rocks, bad place. It low water now; we luffright round de pint ob de island, right in among de shoals and rocks.”
“Then we shall go ashore.”
“Nebber you fear. Dis chile carry you clear. Dis darky know frigate nodare come in. We drew leben feet ob water. ‘Spose he draw twenty-fibe;he stand off good way; his shot no reach us. Den you be on de wind,close-hauled, beat up ’twixt de islands and de main, hab smooth water;’spose frigate he try beat up too; he no do any ting; wid dis vesselon de wind, he nowhar. ’Spose he beat up toder side; den he hab _roughwater_; he do noting at all.”
There was not much time for deliberation, for, even while they werespeaking, a shot carried away the port davit, and splintered the planks
of the stern.
“If that shot had struck the main boom,” said the mate,—“and it didnot lack much of it,—all had been up with us.”
“You are right, pilot. Mr. Rogers, brace up the yards.”
While this manœuvre was being executed, a succession of terriblescreams arose from the forward part of the ship.
“Some poor fellow is struck,” cried the captain; “run forward, Mr.Rogers, and see who it is.”
The second mate was now heard singing out, “Avast hauling on thatfore-brace. Slack it off handsomely.” Four or five men were at the sametime seen running up the fore-rigging.
In those days iron trusses to lower yards by (which they swing in alldirections as easily as a door on its hinges) were not known; but theywere made of rope, covered with leather, and very stiff. A man must besent up to overhaul them when the yards were swung.
Danforth Eaton went up to overhaul the weather-truss. The wind blewthe end of his cue—he had the longest cue on board—into the hole ofthe cleat; it jammed fast, and the men bracing the yard hauled it in,pulling out the hair by the roots, starting the skin from the flesh,and well nigh breaking his neck.
“Cut the blasted thing off,” cried the sufferer (his eyes bloodshot,and the tears streaming down his cheeks) to Walter, who was the firstto reach him.
Eaton never wore another cue, and his example was followed by a few ofhis shipmates; and at length cues went out of fashion altogether.
The next shot fell wide; but as both vessels were now brought nearerto the wind, it was evident, by the balls falling short, that thebrigantine was increasing the distance between them, which became stillgreater as the man-of-war, afraid of the shoals, gave the island awider berth, while the brigantine, under the skilful pilotage of theblack, running as near as possible to the rocks, rounded the point ofthe island, gradually coming up more and more to the wind, till, havingpassed the last shoal, at a signal from Peterson, the yards were bracedsharp, the main sheet hauled flat aft, and she shot out into a clearchannel.
“Dere,” cried the black (who had stood on the bow, with his eyeglancing alternately from the water to the sails), as he flung histarpaulin upon the deck, and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “wheredat frigate now? Dis chile no see her,” he exclaimed, looking straightto windward. “You ole man, Peterson, you lose de eyesight.”
A merry laugh went round, as the captain exclaimed, “You are lookingthe wrong way, Peterson. Look to leeward. Well done, my old pilot;reckon on a suit of clothes for yourself, and a dress for the oldwoman. I see you are all Captain Rhines recommended you to be, and moretoo.”
“Me tank you, massa cap’n; tank you, sar. Cap’n Rhines he know dischile well as he know hisself; wind blow awful; big sea; take two menhold toder man’s hair on; ship scudding; Massa Rhines, he come on deck;‘Mr. Strout!’ ‘Ay, ay, sar.’ ‘Who got de helm?’ ‘Flour, sar.’ (Dey callme Flour den.) He say, ‘Den I go below. Gib me call, any change in deweder.’ ‘Ay, ay, sar.’”
“Here comes another,” said the mate, as a hundred gun ship, aroused bythe firing, stood out from the roadstead of Marseilles.
“Here comes Grandfather Bull,” cried the captain, proud of the sailingqualities of his craft. “On a taut bowline I wouldn’t fear their wholenavy. Come along, old gentleman.”
The fleets of Great Britain were at this time so fully occupied in allparts of the world, that but a small number of vessels could be sparedto blockade the most important of the French ports, the heavier shipslying just out of range of the forts, and patrolling the roadstead withboats, while the lighter vessels scoured the coast. In bad weather theywere obliged to ride it out in an open roadstead, or run to sea—a timealways improved by the blockade-runners who were inside to get out,and by those outside, while the fleet was scattered, to run in.
It was of the greatest importance for blockade-runners to ascertain theposition of the fleet in the daytime, and, eluding the outside vessels,run by the others in the night, taking the chance of an attack fromtheir boats, and a broadside. In making the coast in thick weather,they were always liable to find themselves, as in the present instance,in the very jaws of the enemy.
Nothing but her sweeps saved the “Arthur Brown,” by preventing theboats from boarding her, till the breeze came. The frigate, finding thechase was hopeless, tacked ship, and returned to the coast; but so farwere the crew of the brigantine from relinquishing their purpose, thatthey kept in sight, and the moment the twilight came on, stood in forthe land, guided by the frigate’s lights, while all was dark on boardthe brigantine.
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