Читать книгу Hurricane Hurry - William Henry Giles Kingston - Страница 6

The harbour of Halifax is a very fine one. A thousand ships may anchor there in safety. It is our chief naval station in North America. The town, which is a handsome one, stands on a peninsula, and rises gradually from the water’s edge, where there are numerous wharves, alongside which ships can lie to discharge their cargoes. We found in the harbour the Cerberus frigate, Captain Symonds, (see Note 1), hove down alongside the wharf, as also the Savage sloop of war, wearing Commodore Arbuthnot’s broad pennant.

The inhabitants cordially welcomed our arrival, as they were in hourly expectation of an attack from a body of rebels who were said to be marching on the town, while the organised force existing for its defence was very small. At length an express arrived from the interior, stating that the enemy were at the distance of about twenty miles, at a small village of which they had taken possession. We were instantly ordered under arms to protect the dockyard, and fully expected to have warm work. The people who formed the rebel bands had been instigated to revolt by the revolutionists of the southern colonies, who had formed a plan at this time to invade Canada, which happily proved abortive. They themselves, as far as I could learn, had no real cause of complaint.

After we had waited for some time in expectation of an attack, notice was brought us that the rebels had plundered and burned the village where they had quartered themselves, and then retired. We were therefore able to employ all hands in refitting the ship, a work to us of the greatest importance. The cold, however, was so great that we suffered no little inconvenience from exposure to it. All the meat, I remember, which came on board, was frozen so hard that we were invariably obliged to cut it up into pieces with a cross-saw, to serve it out to the messes. Quantities of fish also of a peculiarly fine flavour were to be picked up daily, frozen to death, on the surface of the ice, thrown up by the united action of the tide and sea. As there were no masts and spars in the dockyard, we found that we should be obliged to send a party into the woods, fully ten miles from the town, to cut down trees suitable for the purpose. I was ordered to accompany the party appointed for this object. My friend Delisle was with me, and Tom Rockets went as my servant.

Having provided ourselves with blankets, provisions, cooking utensils, and other means of making ourselves comfortable, away we trudged over the snow, following our guide, John Nobs by name, who was to show us where we might find the sort of timber we required. It was the first time I had ever been in an American forest. The deep silence which reigned around, and the perfect solitude were very impressive. The tall leafless trees, springing up out of the sheet of snow which covered the whole face of nature, were the only objects to be seen.

We were merry enough as we tramped away in the keen, pure air over the crisp snow. As some thirty pair of feet, stepping out together, went crunch—crunch—crunch—the noise was so loud, that we were obliged to raise our voices to make ourselves heard. Delisle and I marched directly after our leader old Nobs, our men following, laughing, talking, and singing, as the mood seized them.

At length, having gone some way through the forest, Nobs began to look about him attentively. He was not a man of many words.

“That’s ’um,” said he, pointing with his chin to some tall, straight fir-trees, up to which he had led us. We saw also that a considerable number of the same description grew in the neighbourhood.

“I suppose, then, we may call a halt?” said I.

Nobs nodded. We had been told that he would show us how to build some huts for sheltering our party.

“Some on you with axes come along,” said he, turning to the men, and away he trudged till we reached a clump of graceful, white-stemmed birch-trees. Scoring down the stems, he quickly ripped off huge sheets of bark, some five and six feet long, and two and three broad. The men followed his example, and we soon had as much as the whole party could carry.

“Stay, that won’t do alone,” observed Nobs; and he commenced cutting some thin poles, seven or eight feet long, from saplings growing in the neighbourhood. With these we returned to the spot we had fixed on for an encampment. Scarcely uttering a word, having got some men to assist him, he erected a framework of a cone-shape, with about eight of the poles, fastening the upper ends together with a piece of rope. He then covered the framework with sheets of bark, leaving a doorway and a small space open at the top.

“There you have an Indian wigwam,” said he.

From the pattern he had thus formed, the men very soon erected wigwams enough to shelter the whole party. He then collected some dried wood, of which there was an abundance about, and lighted a fire in the middle of his hut. The hole left at the top of it allowed the smoke to escape. The snow, which had first been cleared away in the interior, was piled-up round the hut outside, and the ground was then beaten hard. He showed us how to make our couches of dried leaves; and at night, wrapped in our blankets lying round the fire, we found that we could sleep most luxuriously.

Having thus speedily made all these necessary arrangements, we set to work to select the trees fit for our purpose. As soon as we had fixed on them, Nobs threw off all his outer clothing, and with his gleaming axe began chopping away like a true backwoodsman at one of the largest of the trees. The carpenter’s crew followed his example. The air was so calm that while the men were actively employed they felt not the slightest sensation of cold. The moment they ceased, however we made them put on their clothing.

Nobs was thoroughly versed in all the customs of backwoodsmen, so he was able to show us how to make ourselves comfortable, and I learned many lessons from him which I, on many subsequent occasions, found very useful. Among other things he showed us how to roast our meat by spitting bits of it on a long thin stick, which rested on two forked sticks stuck in the ground. Indeed, we enjoyed ourselves far more than we expected.

Tom Rockets and another lad slept in our wigwam, to assist in keeping up the fire. I lay awake for a short time, when my ears were saluted with the sound of a long, low howl. I presently heard Tom stir himself.

“Oh, Jim, sure them be the ghostesses we heard tell of,” said he. “I hope they won’t be coming this way now.”

“I hopes not,” replied his companion. “Them be dreadful things I do think, by the noise they makes.”

Just then there was a louder howl than before.

“Oh, they be coming!” cried Tom. “I’ll rouse up Mr. Hurry. Maybe he’ll know how to tackle ’em.”

Highly diverted with the opinion my followers had formed of my prowess against not only mortal but spiritual enemies, I lay still, wishing to hear what he would next say. The hideous howl approached still nearer.

“I can’t stand it!” he exclaimed. “Muster Hurry! Muster Hurry! there be ghostesses, or devils, or some such things abroad, a-playing of their pranks, and they be coming to eat us up, Muster Hurry, I be sure!”

I burst into a fit of laughter, so loud that it woke Delisle. It was responded to, it seemed, by so unearthly a cry from the depths of the forest, that even he for a moment was startled. Then there was the report of firearms, and looking out of our wigwam, I saw old Nobs standing in front of his, with a musket in his hand.

“I’ve druve the varmints away,” he said, in his usual laconic style. “You may turn in, mister.”

I took his advice, for it was very cold outside.

“The wolves will not probably disturb us again,” said I, as I lay down.

“Wolves! be them wolves?” I heard Tom remark; but as I soon fell asleep, I do not know what more he said.

Towards the morning I was again awoke by loud shouts, and growls, and cries, and the sound of a tremendous tussle.

“I’ve caught ye, my bo!” I heard Tom exclaim. “If ye be a ghost or a devil, ye shall just show yourself to Muster Hurry, before I let ye go.”

Starting up, I found the two lads struggling with some beast or other at the entrance to the wigwam. I soon discovered that they had got hold of a black bear, who had doubtless been attracted to our wigwam by a pot of sugar which had been left at the entrance, into which he was putting his paw when Rockets discovered him. The noise brought a number of the other men from the huts. They thought we were attacked by Indians or the rebels, I believe. The poor beast made a good fight of it; but before I could come to his rescue, he had been somewhat severely handled. We, however, easily secured him, and kept him prisoner till we settled what should be done with him. He was, we learned from old Nobs, of a species not at all ferocious, and very easily tamed. We therefore determined, instead of killing him in order to turn him into ham, to carry him on board as a pet. He very soon became reconciled to his lot, and at once ate willingly from our hands any mess we offered, particularly if sweetened with sugar. Rockets considered him as his own prize, and took him under his especial care. The men gave him the name of Sugar-lips, and as Tom stood his sponsor he was known on board as Tommy Sugar-lips.

However, I must not spend more time on my shore adventures, as I have matter of so much greater interest to describe. In about five days we had cut down and trimmed a sufficient number of trees for our purpose. The greatest labour was to drag them over the snow to the harbour; but at length that was accomplished, and we returned once more on board.

Shortly after this the frost set in harder than ever, but in consequence of the rapidity of the tides the ice, though fully four feet thick, did not form a consistent body in the harbour. In some places it was hard, but the chief quantity round the ship was like a mass of wet snow, too soft and too rotten to walk on, and yet too thick to allow a boat of any size to be impelled through it. Thus all communication with the town was suddenly cut off. At this time we had a gang of men on the opposite shore, fitting the rigging at a spot where they could procure no provisions. They were getting very hard up for food, when Captain Hudson sent for me.

“Mr. Hurry,” said he, “I wish to send some provisions to the people on shore. It will be a service of difficulty, and perhaps danger, but I can entrust it confidently to you; you must take a couple of hands and a light boat, and you may be able to force her either over or through the ice.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered; “I’ll do it if it is to be done.” And away I went to make my preparations without loss of time. I always felt an inclination to volunteer for any work to be done, and never thought of throwing difficulties in the way of the performance of any thing that was proposed. I chose Nol Grampus, the old quarter-master, and Tom Rockets as my companions in the enterprise. The dinghy, a small boat we carried astern, was the best suited to my purpose. Having laden her with provisions, we shoved off from the ship among the floating ice. Our progress was very slow, sometimes we worked our way among the sheet ice, then we came to a hard slab on to which we jumped and hauled the boat over it. “Take care, sir,” said Grampus, as we were crossing a slab, “this is treacherous stuff we are on.” Just as he spoke I felt my feet sinking into the slush, and had I not had firm hold of the gunwale, I might have gone through altogether. As I sprang into the boat I could not help shuddering at the thought of sinking into the cold deadly mass which surrounded us without the possibility of making an effort for life; too dense to enable one to swim, and yet too liquid to bear the weight of a person, it was as sure to destroy one as the treacherous quicksand or the furious maelstrom. Near us was another boat with an old man and a boy, likewise endeavouring to cross the harbour. We saw that they were exerting all their energies, but were not making better progress than we were. After some time the tide made down stronger, and on taking our bearings I found that the ice was setting us fast down the harbour and out to sea. My men needed no encouragement to exert themselves to the utmost, for the peril we were in was very apparent. Captain Hudson observed it also, and made the signal for us to return to the ship, but it was even more difficult to go back than to go forward. In attempting to obey the order I found that we were carried more into the strength of the current. I therefore kept on towards the wharf, where some hundreds of people were collected, rather anxious spectators of our adventure. Captain Symonds, of the Cerberus, and the master-attendant of the dockyard were looking on, and they also hailed to me to return to the ship. Sometimes we appeared to be making no progress whatever, and I felt the probability of our being carried out to sea—then again we advanced, though slowly, towards the shore. The old man and his boy were less able to contend with the difficulties which surrounded them. The old man had hurt himself, I fancy, and by degrees relaxed in his efforts—the poor little fellow was still putting forth all his strength to urge their boat forward, but it was too evidently likely to prove unavailing.

At last they slowly drifted past us, and though at so short a distance that I could clearly see the expression of their countenances we could render them no possible assistance. I shall not quickly forget the poor old man’s look of despair and grief—more perhaps for the coming fate of his boy than for himself. The poor lad had not yet given up all hopes of escape. Now he would sit down and wring his hands, and then he would start up, and, seizing an oar, try once more to shove the boat ahead. We had little time, however, for contemplating their fate, for there was still a great probability that we might have to share it. We were yet drifting seaward, and for hours together our utmost exertions only enabled us to hold our own. I can easily fancy the interest we excited on shore, yet nothing could be thought of to help us. We could hear the cry of horror and commiseration which rose from the crowd as the boat with our companions in misfortune drifted past the spot whence there was any hope of escape, and the old man and lad sat down and gave themselves up to despair. The intense cold would, I guessed, soon deprive them of all sensation and further power of exertion. Night was coming on, and we lost sight of them in the gloom. We had now been six hours in our perilous position, without time even to take a particle of nourishment. We were making for the Cerberus as the nearest point where we could receive assistance.

“We shall reach her, sir!” exclaimed Grampus at length, with a cheerful tone. “See, they are ready to heave us a line if we could but get a few fathoms nearer.” Encouraged by this, we exerted ourselves still more than ever, and at length a man from the jibboom end of the Cerberus hove a lead which happily reached our boat. We seized it eagerly, and making the line fast, we were hauled alongside the wharf. As soon as we landed and had received the congratulations of the spectators of our adventure, we were carried off, half-starved and frozen, by the master-attendant, Mr. Prowse, to his house; where we were most hospitably entertained. I found in him an old shipmate, as he had been master of the Torbay when I belonged to her. I spent upwards of two days at his house, and received the greatest of kindness from him. While on shore I met another old friend, Captain Lee, of the Harriet Packet, with whom I almost lived during his stay at Halifax. As may be supposed, I found his comfortable cabin a far more agreeable place of abode than a midshipman’s berth with the rough and scanty fare with which we were provided. I was anxious to ascertain the fate of the old man and his son whom we had seen carried out to sea by the ice. Sad to relate, they had been picked up two days afterwards at the mouth of the harbour, frozen to death. They must have died, I suspect, soon after we lost sight of them, for the cold was so intense that it could not long have been resisted. We had, indeed, cause to be thankful to providence that their fate was not ours. It is but one of the many instances in which I have been mercifully preserved, while those by my side have been cut off. For what end has this been done? I wish that I could say that I have properly employed the longer term of life thus vouchsafed to me. There had been at Halifax all the winter a very limited supply of provisions. At length a fleet appeared off the harbour’s mouth, which proved to be that under the command of Admiral Lord Shouldham, with the army of General Howe on board, (see Note 2), who had been compelled by the American revolutionists, under General Washington, to evacuate Boston, after having been besieged in it for fully ten months. It will be remembered that we parted from the Chatham, Admiral Shouldham’s flag-ship, in a gale in the early part of our voyage. She went through as much bad weather, and experienced almost as many disasters as we had suffered, though at length she reached Boston, where Lord Shouldham succeeded Admiral Graves as Commander-in-Chief. Our disasters throughout the whole of that sad contest with the American States arose from the foolish contempt with which the British generals and their officers treated the provincial troops. While General Howe was waiting for reinforcements from England, General Washington was collecting an army and disciplining his troops. Before, therefore, the expected reinforcements could arrive, General Howe, to his great surprise, found himself outnumbered, and the city commanded from some hills which overlook it, called Dorchester Heights. He found that he must either dislodge the enemy from these heights or evacuate Boston. A heavy gale of wind prevented the adoption of the former alternative till the rebels were too strongly entrenched to allow the attempt to be made with any prospect of success. A hurried retreat was therefore resolved on, and not only the troops, but those of the inhabitants who had sided with the British, were compelled to embark on board the men-of-war and transports, vast quantities of military stores and property of all sorts being either destroyed or left behind, to fall into the hands of the enemy. This fleet had arrived ill provided with provisions to feed so many mouths, and from there being, as I have said, but a scanty supply of food in Halifax already, it was considered necessary to put the army and navy on half allowance—an arrangement to which, though very disagreeable, we were compelled to submit with the best grace we could muster. From the time of our arrival till the 4th of May we were busily occupied in fitting the ship for sea, and not an hour was lost after that was accomplished, in getting under weigh, when we stood to the southward. We were not sorry to have the chance of seeing some active service. On the 8th we spoke HMS Merlin, with two transports bound for Halifax, on the 12th the Milford and Lively, on a cruise. On the same day we anchored in Nantucket Roads, Boston, where we found lying the Renown, wearing the broad pennant of Commodore Banks, which we saluted with thirteen guns. A constant cannonade was kept up on the squadron by the rebels who now held Boston and the surrounding heights, but without doing us much mischief. We returned the fire occasionally with probably about the same result. After their late successes the American patriots had become very bold, and no longer held the British in any respect. Some parts of the coast of the harbour were left unprotected by the enemy. One night I was sent on shore in command of a watering-party, with strict orders to keep a watchful guard against surprise. To do this I considered it necessary to take possession of a house near the spot where we were filling the casks. As the house was deserted I carried off a table and six chairs which I found in it, with which to furnish the midshipman’s berth—ours having been knocked to pieces on the voyage to Halifax.

By the rules of war I had a right to take the property, I believe, but it seems hard that the owners, who were probably not belligerents, should be deprived of it. On the following day, the 15th, we sailed on a cruise in search of any of the enemy’s merchantmen or privateers, of which they had begun to fit out a good many. The crews ran a great risk of being treated as pirates, but as the rebels had already threatened to retaliate, should the usual customs of regular warfare be departed from, it was judged prudent to behave towards those who fell into our hands as if they were regular prisoners of war.

We had begun to grumble much at our ill-luck in not falling in with prize. “Ye’ll na take anything which will put siller into any of our pockets this cruise, ma laddies,” said Andrew Macallan, the Scotch surgeon’s mate, who was much addicted to the prophesying of ill-luck.

We Orlopians were collected in the midshipman’s berth towards the termination of a not over-luxurious dinner. “I should think not,” responded Kennedy. “What can we expect to get out of these beggarly provincials? It’s not likely they’ll have any craft afloat which will be worth capture.”

“How do you know that?” exclaimed Frank Mercer, one of our mates, with a deep crimson flush on his brow. “Now, from what I have heard, I believe the patriots have a number of fine merchantmen sailing out of their ports, and have already fitted out several privateers.”

“From which of your friends on shore did you hear that?” asked Kennedy, with a look of contempt.

“From common report,” replied Mercer. He was known to have several relations and friends in America who had sided with the rebels, and though this made him look on them with a favourable eye, he had too loyal a spirit to allow him to contemplate for a moment the desertion of his colours. Still his heart often yearned towards those engaged in what then appeared so unequal a struggle on shore, and he could scarcely help expressing satisfaction at any success they met with. Poor Mercer had to endure a great deal of irony and abuse on the subject, but while he defended the rebels, and asserted their right to take up arms in the defence of their liberties, he acknowledged that his own duty was to remain loyal to his sovereign. The dispute was waxing warm, when little Harry Sumner, who had been on deck, came below, and announced that there was a suspicious sail away to the north-east, and that we were in chase of her. I was on deck in a minute, and found everything being set alow and aloft in chase of the stranger. After watching her for some time from aloft, where I had gone with my spy-glass, I saw that we were gaining on her rapidly, though she had also made all sail. This convinced us that she was a craft belonging to the enemy. She was sloop-rigged, but seemed to be a vessel of some size. After a chase of four hours we got her within range of our guns, when a shot from one of our bow-chasers, falling close alongside, convinced her that she had no chance of escape, and that her wisest policy was to heave-to without more ado. This she at once did, and I was sent on board to take possession. She proved to be the Ranger, from Nantucket harbour, bound on a whaling voyage, her crew consisting of a master, mate, boy, and ten men. Her master, Mr. Jotham Scuttle, was very indignant at being captured, and good reason he had to be so, for half the vessel was his own, and thus in a moment he was deprived of all his worldly wealth. He was as unlike a seaman in appearance as could well be imagined; with his broad-brimmed hat, knee-breeches, buckles to his high shoes, and long waistcoat, but he was not the less active for all that. Leaving Grampus, who had accompanied me, with two hands in charge of the sloop, I returned with the prisoners to the frigate. The mate and men were instantly pressed, without the question being asked whether they would wish to join, and Captain Hudson ordered me to go back to the sloop, giving me leave to carry Tom Rockets, in addition to the men already on board, and to make the best of my way to Halifax. “Stay,” said he, “take the master and boy with you, Mr. Hurry; we shall not know what to do with them on board—and see that he plays you no trick.” I laughed at the idea of having anything to dread from the demure Mr. Scuttle, and, putting up a few necessaries, I tumbled into the boat which was to take me on board my new command. I thought I caught a twinkle in friend Jotham’s eyes when he found that he was to be sent back to his own vessel—but this was probably fancy. He sat looking very sad and downcast as we pulled on board the sloop. The crew of the boat which had brought me gave me three cheers, and Delisle, who had come in her, wished me a prosperous voyage to Halifax, from which I was about two hundred leagues distant. The frigate then hauled her wind, and I made sail to the northward. Of course I felt very grand in my new command, like Sancho Panza in his island, though it was not to last very long at the utmost; and it was not impossible that I might be summarily dispossessed of it at any moment; however, I did not trouble myself about such thoughts just then. Having taken possession of the master’s cabin, and allowed him to occupy his mate’s, I called my ship’s company together, and, having divided them into two watches, told them I expected they would do their duty and behave themselves. Nol Grampus had charge of one watch with one of the seamen and Mr. Scuttle under him, and I took the other with the other seaman, Tom Rockets and the boy. Tom had not got over his innocent country look, though he was sharp enough in reality, and did his duty as a seaman very fairly. Old Grampus, who had taken a fancy to him, was always teaching him something or other likely to prove useful. “Now, Tom, you may be no wiser nor a young gull as has never learned to fly,” I heard the old man say; “but listen, my boy, if you follows my advice you’ll soon be able to spread your wings and skim over the water just for all the world like one on them big albatrosses one meets with off the Cape of Good Hope, you’ve heard speak of.” Tom had not heard of such a place, so Grampus told him all about it, and a great deal more besides. In that way my young follower picked up his sea lore. The contrast between the two was perfect. Tom’s young, smooth, innocent face, and round boyish figure, and the thorough old sea-dog look of Grampus, with his grizzly bushy hair and whiskers, his long cue, his deeply-furrowed, or I may say rather bumped and knobbed and bronzed countenance, and his spare, sinewy form, having not a particle of flesh with which he could dispense.

As Mr. Jotham Scuttle’s eye fell on Tom he took him at once for a simple lad, who could readily believe anything he had to say, and he formed his plans accordingly. I got on very well with my scanty crew, for as there were winches and tackles of all sorts on board, I managed to work the vessel easily enough. We had an abundance of provisions, so that, contrasted especially with the fare to which I had for many months past been accustomed, we lived luxuriously.

The second day I invited Mr. Scuttle to dine with me. The commencement of the entertainment was not very lively, for though he did not play a bad knife and fork, he uttered no sound except an occasional deep sigh from beneath the very lowest button of his waistcoat. At last, after leaning his head on his hand for some time, he looked up.

“It is very hard to be borne, mister,” he exclaimed with vehemence. “Here was I, with a fine craft I could almost call my own, and with every chance of providing for my family, and now I’m worse than a beggar—a prisoner, and forced to go I don’t know where.”

“You shouldn’t have broken the blockade, and your friends shouldn’t have rebelled and broken the laws,” said I.

“Laws!” he exclaimed with disdain, “they were bad laws, and it went against the grain of every honest man to observe them.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I replied; “in my profession all we have to do is to obey without asking questions, and I just fancy that your people will very soon have to do the same, whether they like it or not.”

“Will they, forsooth?” he exclaimed, striking his fist on the table. “The time has passed for that. I’ll tell you what, sir, they’ll fight it out till every drop of honest blood is spilt in the country. It was the supercilious, boasting airs of your lords and aristocrats who came out among the military looking down upon all the first gentlemen in the land as provincials and colonists, as they called them in contempt, which was the real cause of the revolt. They made enemies wherever they went, with their follies and pride and haughty words. They and their government at home seemed to forget that we were Britons like themselves, with British hearts, ay, and with truer loyalty than they had for the king and the old country. What would you say, sir, if you were insulted as we have been?”

“I certainly do not like being bullied by anyone,” said I.

“No more do we colonists, sir,” answered the poor skipper. “My father, sir, came over from the old country; misfortunes compelled him to quit it, but he loved it as much as ever, and brought up me, his son, to love it also; and so I should to this day, had I, and those who had made America their own, been fairly treated—not looked upon as children to be played with, or slaves to be bullied and despised. Now, sir,” he continued, standing up and placing one hand on the table, while he extended the other, “I tell you that there are not bitterer enemies to the old country than your government have made me and many like me.”

“I am very sorry for you,” I said, seeing the justice of his remarks, “but you see I cannot help it, so just sit down and mix yourself another tumbler of grog; we can but make the best of circumstances.”

“I don’t want your pity, or that of any of the enemies of America,” he answered proudly. Then he seemed to soften, and he continued in a more subdued tone, “But you, young gentleman, seem inclined to treat me as a man should a man, and not as some of your officers have treated us provincials, so I am thankful, and if the day should come when I can return your kindness I shall be glad to do so.”

“I only hope that I may not be in your place as a prisoner,” said I.

“To be honest with you,” he replied, “if I only had the chance of taking the sloop from you, I should be right not to let it pass by, though I have no great hope that it will be offered me.”

“No, I should think not,” I answered, laughing. I have often since thought of the foolish, domineering way in which England and Englishmen treat their brethren who turn colonists, and shall not be surprised if she loses one colony after another as she was now doing her American settlements. The skipper was soon pacified, and we became very good friends. We were still talking away over our glass of grog, when Nol Grampus put his head in at the cabin-door.

“I don’t quite like the look of the weather, Mr. Hurry,” said he. “I think it’s going to breeze up a bit, and the sooner we shorten sail the better.”

I jumped up and went on deck, when I saw that he was right. We accordingly at once made all snug. Thick clouds were banking up from the westward and southward, which soon rushing on like a vast army sweeping over a devoted country, deluged us with rain, bringing a heavy breeze, which kicked up no small amount of sea. The wind keeping to the southward of west we could lay our course, so on we went pitching and tumbling before it in no very pleasant manner for several days.

Fortunately the Ranger was well found in every respect, and, proving a very good sea-boat, showed that the men of Nantucket knew what was the best economy in the end. She was newly painted, and had sixteen ports, so that at a distance she had a somewhat formidable appearance; but as they had no guns to them, though she could grin, she could not even bark, much less bite. If, therefore, we fell in with an enemy I saw that, should we not be able to escape by flight, we should in all probability be captured. I had observed that my friend the skipper had been in better spirits than at first. He spoke frankly to me, as he did to the crew, and seemed to be on good terms with everybody. He was evidently a clever man—full of resources of all sorts—above his station I should say. He had been brought up as a farmer, and had never been afloat till within the last six or seven years. He was now no contemptible sailor. His next move would probably be to some totally different sphere, where he would take a step higher in the social scale. Such is the career of many a New Englander.

I had turned into my berth, after keeping the morning watch some days after this, when, as I awoke, I saw Tom Rockets moving about in the cabin.

“What do you want, Tom?” I asked.

“Hist, sir,” he whispered, “I’ve just a word to speak to you.”

“Out with it then, my man,” I said.

“It’s just about that strange skipper, sir.”

“Well, go on.”

“He’s been talking to me, and asking if I wouldn’t like to go and settle in a land of liberty, and make my fortune, and no longer be subject to be starved and flogged and ill-treated on board of a man-of-war?”

“And what did you say, Tom?” I asked.

“I told him just simply like that I belonged to you, that I would follow wheresoever you went, and that if you thought fit to go and settle in his country, I’d have no objection to go too.”

“That was right, Tom. If he speaks to you again, give him the same sort of answer. Don’t let him suppose you are offended. Has he spoken with either of the other men?”

“With all except Grampus; but I don’t think he has made much way with them. The old man, I fancy, sir, guesses what he’s after, and has his eye on him,” answered Tom.

“All right, then, my lad. Keep your eyes about you, and let me know any thing you observe, but don’t allow the skipper to find out that we suspect him.”

Tom promised to follow my directions, and I sent him on deck while I turned out and dressed. I treated Mr. Scuttle just as if he were not plotting against me, for forewarned, I felt myself fore-armed, and had no fear that he could do me any harm.

That day the wind fell considerably and we again had fair weather. The next morning, while I was at breakfast, old Nol hailed down the sky-light—

“Would you just come on deck for a moment, sir?” said he.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There’s a sail away to the south-west, and I don’t quite like the looks of her,” answered the old man.

I jumped on deck in a moment. I was not long in making out a brig under all sail holding the same course we were on. As I took the glass from my eye I found Scuttle standing by my side.

“What do you think of her?” I asked.

“Maybe she’s a whaler, or maybe a sealer, or a merchantman from one of the provincial ports, or maybe a transport with British red-coats aboard; but, Mr. Hurry, it requires a man with a longer sight than I’ve got to tell just now what she is,” said the skipper, in the long drawling tone of a New Englander.

I thought that there was something ironical in his tone as he spoke, and that he more than probably knew perfectly well all about the stranger.

“Whatever she may be,” I answered, “I’ll show her my heels. Make all sail, Grampus.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” he replied; and in a short time, the skipper pulling and hauling with as good a will as the rest, we had every stitch of canvas packed on the sloop which she could carry. I fancied, however, that the skipper gave a knowing look at me as he went forward, as much as to say, “You may make all the sail you like, but it won’t do.” At all events, I soon found that the Ranger, though a very good sea boat, was a tub in regard to sailing, under-rigged especially, as she was, for greater convenience in handling.

The stranger was walking up to us fast. As the morning sun fell on her sails they appeared to me very white, and to have a wide spread, and I began to hope that she might prove an English man-of-war brig. Another two hours, however, banished any such hopes, and I was convinced, on looking at Jotham Scuttle’s countenance, that she was likely to prove his friend, but my enemy.

“What do you think of her now, Mr. Scuttle?” I asked.

“She’s a brig,” he answered innocently.

“Anyone can see that with half an eye,” said I; “but what is she? Where does she hail from?”

“Well, then, maybe she hails from a provincial port,” he answered slowly. “I should not be very much surprised, too, if she carries guns.”

“A rebel privateer or pirate, in fact,” said I.

“An American privateer, if you please, sir, I have no doubt she is,” he replied; “in two or three hours, I guess, you will find it safer to call her so, at all events.”

“Well, well, we will see about that,” I remarked, laughing at his coolness, though I began to entertain no slight apprehension that I was about to lose my prize and to become a prisoner into the bargain.

“They’ve got their new-fangled flag a-flying from their peak, sir,” said Grampus, stepping up.

On looking through my glass I made out the star-and-stripe covered ensign, just then begun to be carried by provincial vessels, flying out proudly from her gaff end; while several ports at her side left me no longer in doubt that she was an enemy most devoutly to be wished away. Do everything I could, however, to increase the speed of the Ranger, she rapidly came up with us. Still it was not in my nature to give in while a chance remained of escape. Some man-of-war might heave in sight, or some other craft the privateer might think more worthy of chasing; or we might keep ahead till darkness came to my help. The chances were, however, very small in my favour, and Mr. Scuttle could not help showing his satisfaction at the prospect of the probable change in our fortunes. I went aloft and swept the horizon with my glass in every direction, but not a sail appeared in sight. The breeze held steady, and indeed seemed rather inclined to increase than fall. My heart sank lower than it had ever done before. In another hour my people and I would be prisoners, and Mr. Jotham Scuttle would be offering me his commiseration. He was speaking to my two men; doubtless telling them they had nothing to fear. I felt a very strong inclination at the moment to pitch him overboard; I wanted some one on whom to vent my vexation. Poor man! however, there was in reality much to admire in him. In another half hour the game would be up. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to me. I had often seen a poor silly creature followed by a troop of urchins hallooing at his heels and mocking him with their thoughtless jests, when he would turn round with clenched fists and grinning lips, and they would take to an ignominious flight. I would try the effect of a similar trick. Descending on deck, I ordered Grampus to get lines fastened to all the ports, so that they might be lifted at once. As soon as the arrangement was made I put the sloop about, and at the same moment, suddenly lifting all our ports—of which, as I have said, we had eight on a side—under all sail, I stood boldly down towards the enemy. Still she stood on, and my heart began to quake for the success of my manoeuvre.

“It can’t be helped, sir, I fear,” said Grampus. “We are in for it.”

“No, no,” I exclaimed, with a shout of joy. “It’s all right. Hurrah, my lads!” The brig had taken in her studden-sails and was standing away from us, close-hauled on a wind. I was so eagerly watching her that I did not see what had become of friend Scuttle. I was aroused by a cry from Tom Rockets.

“Just you come down, master!” he exclaimed.

I looked up and caught sight of the skipper and his boy going aloft with knives in their hands. Their intention was obvious. It was to cut the halliards, and by letting the sails come down by the run, call the attention of the brig to our true condition, and thus bring her back to our capture. Tom had got hold of the boy’s leg, and I thought would have jerked him overboard. Grampus in a moment was after the master, and before he had reached the cross-trees had hold of him, and, wrenching the knife from his hand, had hove it overboard. Whatever were the thoughts and intentions of my two other men, they did not show any inclination to side with the skipper. He began to show fight and to kick and struggle not a little, but Grampus had held on with his teeth in too many a gale while close-reefing top-sails, not to be able to gain the mastery. With threats and very significant signs that he would heave him overboard, he at length forced him down on deck.

“Now,” said I, “Mr. Scuttle, I should be justified in pistolling you on the spot for the pretty trick you purposed playing me. But I will not injure you. You gave me warning, I remember, what you would do, so, as I believe you to be a man of honour, pass me your word that you will attempt no further treachery and I will not injure you. Otherwise, for my own safety, I must clap you in limbo, and shoot you the moment I find you again at any such game.”

“It’s very, very hard,” he answered, folding his arms on his bosom and looking wistfully at the brig, which still held her course away from us, “to have thought that I should get back my vessel and see my family again in a few days perhaps, and now to have all my hopes rudely swept away from me! It’s hard—very, very hard!”

I really pitied the poor man and would on no account have injured him, could I have avoided it.

“Well, Mr. Hurry, luck’s against me,” he said at length. “In all things regarding the navigation of the vessel, I’ll obey you faithfully till we reach Halifax. Then you have nothing more to fear from me.”

I was sure that I could trust him. “Then,” said I, “go about your duty, and I will take no notice of what has passed.”

Grampus, Tom, and I cheered lustily as we saw the brig continuing to stand away from us, and the men joined us, though I suspect the fellows did not care much about the matter. It was getting towards evening. I longed for darkness, for I never felt so anxious in my life. I was afraid every moment that the people of the brig might gain courage and turn round upon us. If so, we should be worse off than ever, as we should not have a chance of escaping. Friend Scuttle eyed the brig as anxiously as I did, though with very different wishes. Still we held on, looking, I doubt not, very fierce, and the privateer’s men must have been no less anxious to get away from us than we were from them. At length evening approached, and never did I see the sun set with so much satisfaction. Gradually the shades of night crept over the ocean, and I drew a long breath as the brig was lost to our sight in the thickening gloom. As soon as I was certain that we could not possibly be seen, I ordered the sloop to be kept away, and once more made all sail to the northward, altering my course a few points from that I had been steering when first seen by the brig, lest she should by any chance be looking after us in the morning. Probably the privateer’s men were congratulating themselves at thus easily escaping from us. As I gave vent to my feelings in a hearty cheer the poor skipper exhibited his in a deep groan, and then, having assisted in making sail, turned in to try and forget his sorrows in sleep. The weather continued fine till the 7th of the month, when I made the land about five leagues to the westward of Halifax harbour. Soon after this the wind fell and we had a stark calm. By Mr. Scuttle’s advice I fitted a couple of fishing-lines, and in the course of an hour, with those two lines alone, caught one hundred and twenty-four very fine cod. They proved a welcome addition to our usual salt-meat fare. Those we could not eat fresh we split open and dried in the sun, and they thus served us for food for several days.

“What do you think of the weather now, Grampus?” said I, after we had been fishing for some time.

“I don’t like its looks at all, sir,” he replied. “This is a ticklish coast at all times, and one never knows what’s coming.”

“If you had asked me, I could have told you that we are going to have wind, and fully enough of it,” observed Mr. Scuttle.

He had got into a mighty free-and-easy style of talking of late. He was perfectly right, though in addition to the wind, which sprung up immediately afterwards, we got a thick fog, which totally obscured the land. I steered a course, however, which I hoped would carry us to the harbour’s mouth. We ran on for some time and then hove-to, that we might sound. We had still plenty of water, so I stood on again. At last the fog lifted a little, when to my very great disgust I found that we had run three leagues past the mouth of the harbour. We endeavoured to tack back, but before morning a heavy gale of wind sprung up directly off shore. It was impossible to beat up against it, so I stood to the eastward all that day and night, under a try-sail and storm-jib. During this time the gale showed no signs of abating. It was a good trial to our tempers, at all events. Grampus vowed that there was some old witch in Halifax who must have taken a spite to us and was resolved to keep us out of the harbour as long as she could. He was devising all sorts of plans for exorcising her, but none seemed likely to prove satisfactory. In the morning, the weather moderating a little, I stood to the westward under close-reefed mainsail and double-reefed foresail, and by the evening reached at length the mouth of the harbour. “There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip.” We were congratulating ourselves on getting all snug at night, when once more the wind breezed up with a thickish fog, and as we were then in only forty fathoms of water I was obliged again to run to sea. The bad weather kept me, as well as all the people, on deck, for not knowing what might occur no one could venture to go below. Some time before daylight I once more hauled my wind and beat up towards the land. By the evening of the 10th we were again in with Jabucta Head. We then got soundings on a reef of rocks in eight fathoms water, but so worn out was I and everybody on board that I ordered the anchor to be let go, that we might turn in and get some rest. I fully expected to lose my anchor and cable, but when I came to weigh at daylight the next morning I was fortunate enough to save them both. I now fully expected to get safe into harbour, but as I was standing up Major’s Reach I saw a Falmouth packet coming down. The temptation of speaking her and sending a message home was too great to be resisted, so I stood over towards her. As the sloop was going about she missed stays near a dangerous reef, and to prevent her driving on the rocks it was necessary to be quick in wearing. In doing this the boom came over with the whole main-sheet eased off, and carried it away in six different places. This accident compelled me to run from the narrow channel and lost me the opportunity of speaking the packet. Once more making sail, and the wind favouring me, I got as high as George’s Island, when a sudden squall split my mainsail. This compelled me to bring up. Manning a boat, I pulled up to Halifax to look out for the prize agent, into whose hands I was to deliver the sloop.

I parted on the best of terms with Mr. Jotham Scuttle. He hoped to find some friends in Halifax who would advance him money to enable him to buy back the Ranger.

“If ever you come to Nantucket,” said he, “ask for me, and if I’m on shore there’s no one will give you a more hearty welcome.”

I promised that I would not forget his kind invitation, and, after a hearty shaking of hands, I saw no more of him.

I found the whole town in a state of great commotion, as the immense fleet there collected, of men-of-war and transports, with a large army on board, were on the point of sailing, it was said, on an expedition which would effectually crush the rebels and bring the American provinces once more into complete subjection. That I might not be left behind I immediately reported myself to my Lord Shouldham. His lordship ordered me at once to come on board the Chatham, with my people. I very speedily returned to the Ranger and again got back to the Chatham. I was, however, rather ashamed of my outfit, as it was not very appropriate to the atmosphere of a flag-ship, consisting, as it did, of one old uniform suit, four shirts, and a very few etceteras.

The fleet, I found, was bound for the projected attack on New York. It consisted of his Majesty’s ships Chatham, Rear-Admiral Shouldham, of the White—she had on board General Lord Percy, General Pigot, and other officers of rank—the Centurion, the Greyhound, which had on board General Sir William Howe, the Commander-in-Chief, and brother to Admiral Lord Howe, the Rose, Senegal, and Merlin, sloops of war, and nearly two hundred sail of transports.

Two hours after I got on board the whole fleet of men-of-war and transports made sail for their destination. It was understood that we were to be joined at New York by Admiral Lord Howe, who was on his way out from England. He was to take command of the fleet, while his brother, the general, had command of the army. The two together were to act as commissioners to treat with the rebels, and, by showing them the overpowering force marshalled against them, to endeavour to bring them to terms. Although the rebels had been for so long able successfully to set the king’s forces at defiance, there were a considerable number of people throughout the country who still remained loyal to their sovereign, known generally under the designation of Tories, and it was supposed that they would materially aid both in putting down the rebellion and in winning back the inhabitants to their allegiance. The rebel army, under the immediate command of General Washington, held New York and Long Island opposite to it, as well as the adjacent country. I believe I knew the particulars I speak of at the time: if not I learnt them soon afterwards.

Note 1. Father of the late Admiral Sir William Symonds, and of the late Admiral Thomas Symonds.

Note 2. General Howe was the brother of Admiral Lord Howe.