Читать книгу Stories of Our Naval Heroes Every Child Can Read - Various - Страница 9

Table of Contents

HOW would any of you like to go back to the days when people had only tallow candles to light their houses, and the moon to light their streets, when they traveled on horseback or by stage, and got their news only when it happened to come? In these days of the electric light, the railroad train, and the telegraph that old way of living would not seem living at all.

Yet that was the way people lived in 1775 when the Revolution began. It took weeks for news to travel then, where it takes seconds now. Thus the fight at Lexington, which began the Revolution, took place on April 19th, but it was May 9th, more than half a month later, before the news of it reached the little town of Machias, on the coast of Maine. We should hardly call that fast time. It must have taken several naps on the way.

But when the news came, it found the people ready for it. A coasting schooner put into the port and brought the story of how the patriots had fought and bled at Lexington and Concord, and of how the British were shut up in Boston town, and the country was at war. The news was received with ringing cheers.

If any of my readers had been at Machias that day I know they would have felt like striking a blow for liberty. At any rate, that is how the people of Machias felt, and it did not take them long to show it.

They had some reason not to like the King and his men. All the tall, straight trees in their woods were kept to make masts for the King's ships, and no woodman dared set axe to one of these pine trees except at risk of going to prison. Just then there were two sloops in their harbor loading with ship-timber, and an armored schooner, the Margaretta, was there as a good looker-on.

When the men on the wharf heard the story of Lexington, their eyes fell on the Margaretta. Here was a chance to let King George know what they thought about his robbing their woods.

"Keep this a secret," they said to the sailors. "Not a word of it to Captain Moore or his men. Wait till to-morrow and you will see some sport."

That night sixty of the countrymen and townsmen met at a farmhouse nearby and laid their plans. It was Saturday. On Sunday Captain Moore and his officers would go to church. Then they could gather at the wharf and might take the schooner by surprise.

But it is often easier to make a plot than to keep it a secret, and that lesson they were to learn. The captain and his officers went to the little village church at sound of the morning bell; the Margaretta lay lazily floating near the shore; and the plotters began to gather, two or three at a time strolling down towards the shore, each of them carrying some weapon.

But in some way Captain Moore discovered their purpose. What bird in the air whispered to him the secret we do not know, but he suddenly sprang to his feet, called to his officers to follow him, and leaped like a cat through the church window, without waiting to go round by the door. We may be sure the old-fashioned preacher and the pious people in the pews looked on with wide-open eyes.

Down the street like a deer sped the captain. After him came his officers. In their rear rushed the patriots, some carrying old muskets, some with scythes and reaping-hooks.

It was a hot flight and a hot chase. Luckily for Captain Moore the guard on the schooner was wide-awake. He saw the countrymen chasing his captain, and at once loaded and fired a gun, whose ball went whistling over the head of the men of Maine. This was more than they looked for; they held back in doubt; some of them sought hiding places; before they could gain fresh courage, a boat put off from the schooner and took the captain and his officers on board.

Captain Moore did not know what was wrong, but he thought he would frighten the people, at any rate. So his cannon thundered and balls came hurtling over the town. Then he drew up his anchor and sailed several miles down the bay, letting the anchor fall again near a high bank. Some of the townsmen followed, and a man named Foster called from the bank, bidding him surrender. But the captain laughed at him, raised his anchor once more, and ran farther out into the bay.

It looked as if the whole affair was at an end and the Margaretta safe. But the men of Machias were not yet at the end of their rope. There lay the lumber sloops, and where a schooner could go a sloop could follow.

Early Monday morning four young men climbed to the deck of one of the sloops and cheered in a way that soon brought a crowd to the wharf. One of these was a bold, gallant fellow named Jeremiah O'Brien.

"What is in the wind?" he asked.

"We are going for the King's ship," said Wheaton, one of the men. "We can outsail her, and all we want is guns enough and men enough to take her."

"My boys, we can do it," cried O'Brien in lusty tones, after hearing the plan.

Everybody ran off for arms, but all they could find in the town were twenty guns, with enough powder and balls to make three shots for each. Their other weapons were thirteen pitchforks and twelve axes. Jerry O'Brien was chosen captain, thirty-five of the most athletic men were selected, and the sloop put off before a fresh breeze for the first naval battle of the Revolution.

It is likely that there were a few sailors among them, and no doubt their captain knew how to handle a sloop. But the most of them were landsmen, chiefly haymakers, for Machias lay amid grassy meadows and the making of hay was its chief business. And there were some woodsmen, who knew well how to swing an axe. They were all bold men and true, who cared more for their country than for the King.

When Captain Moore saw the sloop coming with its deck crowded with men he must have wondered what all this meant. What ailed these countrymen? Anyhow, he would not fight without knowing what he was fighting for, so he raised his anchor, set his sails, and made for the open sea. But he had hardly started when, in going about in the strong wind, the main boom swung across so sharply that it struck the backstays and broke short off.

I fancy if any of us had been close by then we would have heard ringing cheers from the Yankee crew. They felt sure now of their prize, though we cannot see why, for the Margaretta had twenty-four cannon, four throwing six-pound balls and the rest one-pound balls. Muskets and pitchforks did not seem of much use against these. It had also more men than the sloop.

We cannot see why Captain Moore showed his heels instead of his fists, for he soon proved that he was no coward. But he still seemed to want to get away, so he drew up beside a schooner that lay at anchor, robbed it of its boom, lashed it to his own mast and once more took to flight. But the sloop was now not far behind, and soon showed that it was the better sailer of the two. In the end it came so close that Captain Moore was forced to fight or yield.

One of the swivel guns was fired, and then came a whole broadside, sending its balls hurtling over the crowded deck of the sloop. One man fell dead, but no other harm was done.

Only a single shot was fired back, but this came from a heavy gun and was aimed by an old hunter. It struck the man at the helm of the schooner. He fell dead, letting the rudder swing loose.

The Margaretta, with no hand at her helm, broached to, and in a minute more the sloop came crashing against her. At once there began a fierce battle between the British tars and the haymakers of Maine, who sprang wildly and with ringing cheers for the schooner's deck. Weapons of all sorts now came into play. Cutlasses, hand-grenades, pistols and boarding pikes were used by the schooner's men; muskets, pitchforks, and axes were skilfully handled by the crew of the sloop. Men fast fell dead and wounded; the decks grew red with blood; both sides fought fiercely, the men of Machias striving like tigers to gain a footing on the schooner's deck, the British tars meeting and driving them back.

Captain Moore showed that it was not fear that made him run away. He now fought bravely at the head of his men, cheering them on and hurling hand-grenades at the foe.

But in a few minutes the end came. A bullet struck the gallant captain and he fell dead on his deck. When they saw him fall the crew lost heart and drew back. The Yankees swarmed over the bulwarks. In a minute more the Margaretta was theirs.

The battle, though short, had been desperate, for twenty men lay killed and wounded, more than a fourth of the whole number engaged.

As Bunker Hill showed British soldiers that the Yankees could fight on land, so the capture of the Margaretta, the first naval victory of the Americans, showed that they could fight at sea. The Margaretta was very much the stronger, in men, in guns, and in her trained officers and skilled crew. Yet she had been taken by a party of landsmen, with muskets against cannon and pitchforks against pistols. It was a victory of which the colonists could well be proud.

But Captain O'Brien was not yet satisfied. He had now a good sloop under his feet, a good crew at his back, and the arms and ammunition of his prize. He determined to go a-privateering on his own account.

Taking the Margaretta to the town, he handed over his prisoners and put the cannon and swivels of the schooner on his swifter sloop, together with the muskets, pistols, powder, and shot which he found on board. Then away he went, with a bold and daring crew, in search for prizes and glory.

He soon found both. When the news of what he had done reached Halifax, the British there sent out two schooners, with orders to capture the insolent Yankee and bring him to port and to prison. But Captain O'Brien showed that he knew how to handle a sloop as well as a pitchfork. He met the schooners sent to capture him, and by skilful sailing managed to separate them. Then he made a bold dash on each of them and in a little time captured them both.