The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

It was not easy to make it seem right, and he gave that up, trying to settle his conscience with the assertion that it was one of those things which cannot be helped.

"It ought to be helped," he thought. "Ships of war ought to do the fighting and let the unarmed ships go free. I don't like it! But I'm a privateersman myself, just now."

Back went the boat to the Noank and Mynheer Opdyke kept his word. It was a misty night, and before morning there was nothing worth noticing upon the deck, unless it might be something amidships that was covered by a tarpaulin. That, however, had been read and understood by the lookouts in the tops of the British corvette.

"The privateer carries a pivot-gun," her captain had said. "Three guns each broadside? Remarkably full crew? All right. She's a dangerous customer to leave afloat. We must make an end of her."

That next day was spent on shore by most of the Noank's crew. Not one of them was willing to remain in Brest, however. The best chance that the rescued prisoners, for instance, seemed to have for ever getting home was in the Noank.

"Besides," they said to each other, "some of us may get out in prizes, before long. We may win prize-money, too."

One day more went by, and it was near evening when Captain Avery said to Guert Ten Eyck: —

"No, my boy, you won't go ashore again. Our water-casks and the provisions are coming aboard. The Opdykes have done wonderfully well by us. I never saw better lighter work. I can't say at what hour we may be ready to put to sea."

The British watchers saw all the lighters coming and going. Their patrol boats now and then pulled very near the schooner, but they had no right to board her. No doubt they had further plans of their own, but they were a little slow with them. The truth was, that the Opdykes deserved the praise given them by Captain Avery. Nobody would have expected such a rapid discharge of a cargo as they effected. That is, nobody without visiting the schooner that night and seeing how a hundred strong men could handle goods.

"Captain," said Mynheer Opdyke, at last, "you have no time to lose. The ship for Belfast goes out with the morning tide, and her cargo is a good one. We put on part of it ourselves, but we insured it pretty well. I think the corvette is going to pretend to change her anchorage, and she will slip alongside of you while she's moving."

"That's what I'm ready for," replied the captain, laughing. "She may anchor on this very spot as soon as she pleases after this lighter goes."

He took a small bag of money that was handed him by the merchant, and the latter went over the side.

"Ho, ho!" he chuckled, as he did so. "I make one hundred per cent. Now I go and report to my British friends that they must take the American pirate within three days, or she will get away from them. Our house is on good terms with them."

That might be, but if it were expected that he would give up profitable business for friendship's sake, that was expecting altogether too much.

Very still lay the Noank during the hour that followed. Carefully muffled were the oars of a small boat that came back to her from a swiftly rowed scouting expedition. Then it seemed as if her anchor came up without a sound, and the booms swung away without creaking. No voices were heard from stem to stern, and a swarm of dark figures flitted around her deck as if they wore moccasons.

"Belfast ship gone out," Up-na-tan had reported to Captain Avery. "Lobster corvette ready to lift anchor. Four lobster boat in water, now. British think they come and take Noank while all crew ashore. Think schooner go sleep."

"Pretty good!" said the captain. "They'd run out to sea with us, then, and the French'd never do a thing about it. America isn't a power yet, and England is. Never mind, we're goin' to spile their luck this time."

The schooner slipped away as if the water had been oiled for her. There was wind enough and not a great deal more. Every sail she could spread was in its place, and her breathless crew watched their canvas feverishly as she sped toward the channel at the harbor mouth.

Not a great deal of noise had been made on board the Syren, as she lifted her anchor to change her ground. She had a right to do so and to get a little more out of the way of other ships. She was sending up only a few sails, however, only just enough to carry her slowly along. It was as if she moved across the water cautiously, not caring for the time expended.

Her commander was justifiably certain of the success of his plans. He stood upon the quarter-deck, trumpet in hand. His gallant tars, with pikes and cutlasses ready, but no firearms, the report of which might be heard by the French on shore, were drawn up in line, waiting for the order, so soon to come, to board the Noank. Splendid men they were, and the sleeping Americans were to be overcome in the twinkling of an eye. Four boats were at the sides of the corvette, and into these went down the expectant boarders, for the crisis was at hand. No orders were required and the oars dipped rapidly, in perfect unison. The affair would soon be over. The commander on the corvette's deck was listening for the shout of onset and of sudden victory.

"Hullo!" suddenly exclaimed the lieutenant in the bow of the foremost boat. "Here we are! Where's that schooner?"

"She's gone, sir!" came loudly from one of the sailors. "Gone entirely!"

All the silence was gone also, as the boats dashed on to row uselessly over the patch of water where the Noank had been seen at sunset. Orders and exclamations might be uttered noisily now.

The Syren's captain could hear, and he could understand, but for some reason he did not seem inclined to make remarks. Most likely he was thinking, for the first words from his lips were: —

"Lieutenant, recall the boats. All hands make sail! We must follow that privateer. I'm afraid he has two hours the start of us."

"I'm afraid he's away," growled the lieutenant. "I'd like to know who gave him his warning."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the captain. "He's after that Belfast liner. We must follow in her wake, or she'll go to America instead of to Ireland."

An old, experienced sea-campaigner can sometimes make shrewd calculations. Not a great while after that and just as the day was dawning, a bulky three-master, running along in a steady, businesslike manner, appeared to be almost in danger of being run into by a much smaller craft which had been following her. The pursuer's flag was English, and she showed no guns.

"Schooner ahoy, there!" shouted a voice on the three-master. "Sheer away, there, or you'll strike us. Port your helm! Port, I say!"

No direct answer came back, but he heard a hoarse-toned shout of: —

"All hands shorten sail! Throw that grappling! Throw the other! Haul in! Haul taut! Bring us alongside! Hurrah! We have her! Board!"

So skilfully was it done that there was no great or damaging shock when the two vessels came together. The grapplings held, the American sailors pulled mightily, and before the liner's crew who were below could tumble up to join their comrades on deck there were fifty pikemen swarming over her bulwarks.

"We surrender!" was almost the first loud exclamation of the British skipper. "You're that rebel pirate! Why didn't the Syren catch you!"

"We weren't there to be caught," called back Captain Avery. "The Killarney is ours, Captain Syme!"

"We can't help ourselves! It's the hard fortune of war!" groaned the astounded Briton. "Do your worst!"

"No harm to any of you," replied his captor. "We'll put you and your crew and passengers ashore on the first land we come to. This 'ere ship, though, is bound for New London."

It was a time for little talk and for the swiftest kind of action, while the Belfast liner was made ready for her trip across the Atlantic.

"I'm glad you find she has water and provisions enough, Vine," said his father, a little later. "You may have twenty-five of the rescued men. They are prime fellows. I'd go under easy sail most o' the time. We won't take out a pound o' the cargo here. Make quick work of gettin' away, now! We're pretty nigh ready to cast loose."

Vine and his exceedingly well-pleased two dozen or more of escaped prisoners of war took possession of the Killarney, and about all the risk before them was that of getting under the guns of some British cruiser.

Captain Syme and his crew and passengers, transferred to the Noank with their baggage, were a very disconsolate company, even when they were promised a quick trip to the Irish coast, as near Belfast as might be.

"Hard luck for us," remarked Syme. "It's that sleepy corvette that's to blame. I believed I was getting away in good season."

"So you were," replied Captain Avery. "You couldn't ha' suited us better. I like the Syren, too. She's gone over to our old anchorage by this time."

He was mistaken there. The angry, disappointed British commander was putting on all sail, and his cruiser was bowling along the sea-road toward Belfast. No sail was in sight ahead of her, and he was fretted sadly by a suspicion of the truth, that the Killarney, with a prize crew on board, was already headed westward, while the dashing privateer he had missed was taking a northerly course, favored much by the fine topsail breeze that was blowing.

CHAPTER XV

A COMING STORM

There had been a morning, not many days after the Noank sailed away from Porto Rico, when the gunners of the seaward battery of Fort Griswold, New London, ran hastily to their cannon. They put in powder only, and quickly they were firing a salute of welcome, in response to the arrival guns of a handsome bark that was entering the harbor mouth. She was under full sail, she carried the American flag, and with it she also floated the well-known private signal of Captain Avery and the Noank.

"Lyme's taken a big prize!" shouted voice after voice in the fort, while all the people within hearing of the guns understood that they were roaring good news only. Men in shops dropped their tools. Teamsters unhitched their horses from loaded sleighs, to mount and hurry into town. Fishermen pulled in their lines. Women put away their knitting or left their carding and their looms. Such a rousing announcement of stirring news from the sea could not be disregarded, and the excitement grew apace.

An hour or so later Captain Sam Prentice and some of his men were on the central wharf, shaking hands with old neighbors until their own were lame, and telling the story of the old whaling schooner among the West Indies.

"Samuel," remarked Rachel Tarns, "thy story promiseth to be a long one. Thee had better hold thy tongue a moment, and turn thy gray head to see what cometh behind thee."

"Sam! Sam! I'm here!"

"There!" said the old Quakeress, dryly. "It was on my mind that his wife could stop his talking. So she squeezeth him not to death, he may then hug his daughters."

"Glory to God!" shouted good Mrs. Ten Eyck. "My son is safe! Not one of our men has been killed."

"Anneke," suggested Rachel Tarns, "thee may also thank Him that they do not seem to have been led to the killing of other people."

"That isn't jest so," said Sam; "we saved a ship-load of Spaniards from some pirates, and we had to kill a good many of the pirates. We didn't really hurt anybody else."

"I trust thy God will forgive thee concerning those wicked men," said Rachel. "He slayeth the wicked in their wickedness. Thee did no wrong. I think it was a friendly and righteous thing for thee to do. I once had many that were dear to me murdered at sea by those devilish destroyers."

"No mercy for pirates!" shouted more voices than one.

"We didn't have to show any," said Sam. "I can't tell it, jest now."

"The ship thou hast taken seemeth a fine one," said Rachel. "How did thee manage to escape the war vessels of thy good king?"

"Oh! 'Bout that?" he replied. "We had the best kind of luck. There wasn't a cruiser off Nantucket. We came along as safe as a mackerel smack. It was a kind of wonder, though, that we didn't sight a solitary's king's flag hereaway."

"That's explained," he was told by a white-headed fisherman. "The British are goin' after the Continentals down Philadelfy way, and all their cruisers are called off to Delaware Bay and the Chesapeake. Some of 'em's ferryin' troops, ye know. We can't say, yit, as to whether or not Washington has licked 'em. Anyhow, things ain't as bad as they was."

Endless news telling was to come, evidently, concerning events on shore as well as on the sea, and there could be no long lingering at the wharf. Every sailor that could be spared from the ship had somebody eagerly waiting for him, and there were many gladdened households that day.

"This is getting to be a thieves' harbor," remarked Rachel Tarns to a group of which she was the centre. "The wicked rebels against our good king are stealing much. This is the nineteenth British vessel that hath been brought in hither. I trust that all ships designing to enter this port under the American flag will arrive safely. It would be a pity if any of them should be wrecked or otherwise prevented."

She had other things as kindly to say and sincere wishes to express concerning whatever shipping might here and there be under the flag of England. Neither did she forget to extend her benevolence to the tents in all the camps of George the Third.

Those who listened to her were plainly in sympathy with all her friendly or Quakerish aspirations, and it appeared as if she were even a favorite.

After that, indeed, as week after week went by, her hopes and wishes were remarkably fulfilled, for there were other Yankee privateers as capable and as busy as the Noank. Some of them were also much larger craft with heavier armaments. Prize after prize came in, and there were New London merchants whose trade promised to rival that of the ancient house of Opdyke Brothers, of the port of Brest.

Throughout all New England, throughout the greater part of New York, there was undisturbed security. The war was touching the northerly edge of Pennsylvania, and there were savage raids into some districts of that colony. Large areas of New Jersey were desolated, and so were parts of South Carolina and Georgia where the Tory element was strong. The western frontier of New York was severely harried by the Iroquois. The counties of that state nearest the city of New York were entirely ruined.

The farmers of the Mohawk Valley gathered their summer crops safely, but toward them and toward the rebel stronghold at Albany, where the legislature was sitting, there was an avalanche of danger coming down from the north. It was well understood that even the forces under the British generals in the Middle States were not considered so effective, so well furnished, so sure of winning speedy victories, as were the chosen regiments to be led by General Burgoyne for a crushing blow at the heart of the rebellion. He was to be reënforced by the entire power of the Six Nations and the Hurons. If he should succeed, as he and his admirers believed he would, his army would obtain complete possession of New York and New England. All the other colonies would then give up in despair, and the Continental army would disband or surrender.

The British campaign and its intended consequences were thoroughly discussed by the New England people, and a considerable number of them very promptly determined to visit their friends in Albany or in Vermont.

The shore people were deeply interested, for, in addition to all other considerations, their entire sea-going fleet was at stake. No more British prizes would then be brought, for instance, to Boston or New London, and all the privateers at sea would be hopelessly forfeited to the crown. All their prizes in European ports would share the same fate. One, however, was now on its homeward way in charge of Vine Avery, promoted from third mate to skipper. He was handling his ship very well, but he as yet knew very little about her cargo. His orders were to let the taking account of that wait until he should be safe in port.

"The main thing," he had been told by his father, "is to git there. You've a gantlet to run that's thousands o' miles long, and your chances are only jest about even."

"I'll make 'em a good deal more'n even!" Vine had replied, and he had sailed away full confidently.

Three days after the Noank and the Killarney parted company, there was a great stir in a fishing village on the Irish coast. A strange schooner was tacking into the cove in front of the village, and such a thing as that did not happen every day. All the cabins were emptied at once. Even the babies, of which there seemed to be a large number, were carried to the shore by their mothers that they might not lose this chance to see something.

The schooner furled her sails, and dropped her anchor, while her probable or improbable character was undergoing vigorous discussion all along the beach. Not a soul on board the Noank, among her crew, at least, could have understood the primitive Erse dialect in which the fisher people told their opinions of her and the boat-loads of men and women that were quickly put out from her toward the shore. More and more extraordinary became the clatter after the passengers were landed and the boats pulled away for their next cargoes. Trip after trip was made, and all the while there was a vast amount of kindly pity expressed, most of it in Erse, but much in Irish-English, for Captain Syme and all his miscellaneous ship's company. Quite an erroneous opinion appeared to prevail that the American pirates had murdered all their captives entirely before landing them.

Here they were, now, however, not a hair of their heads injured, and Captain Syme even thanked Captain Avery, the privateersman, for having treated him and his so very well.

"We shall find our way to Belfast, sir," he said. "Just how we are to transport them all, I don't know, but the neighboring authorities will take care of that. I shall have them notified at once. You'd better look out for yourself."

"All right," laughed Captain Avery, "but I'm less afraid of a constable than I would be of a three-master with two tiers of guns. Not many o' them in shore, I guess."

Captain Syme had his hands full, he said, and away he went without uttering aloud the reply that was so near his lips: "Three-master? Yes, you rebel pirate! A seventy-four and you and your schooner within point-blank range!"

CHAPTER XVI

IRISH LOYALTY

Captain Avery's boat pulled away toward the Noank, and he remarked as he took hold of the tiller ropes: —

"I'm glad to be rid of all that crowd. Now there'll be more room for the rest of us. We can't afford to take prisoners."

"They'll report us, sir," said one of the sailors.

"They may say we mean to sack Liverpool, for all I care," growled the captain. "I wish we had a supply of fresh provisions, though. We had no time to take in any at Brest."

The whole boat's crew agreed with him, for they had been living on salt rations during many a long week.

The skipper of the Killarney and his friends of all sorts, with their personal baggage, were scattered high and low along the beach. The hospitable commiseration they were receiving was even excessive, and there appeared to be but one opinion among the population of that edge of Ireland concerning the general wickedness of privateering. At the side of the schooner, however, as if waiting for the captain's return, was a stout yawl-boat. It had four rowers and in the stern-sheets sat a large, florid, handsome man, very well dressed.

"It's the captain of this American pirate?" he loudly inquired. "Glad to see you, sir. I'm The McGahan and my place is inshore, yonder. Have ye ony good tobacco aboord, or a drop o' claret, or an anker of old Hollands?"

"Well," said Captain Avery, staring into the broadly smiling face of the handsome Irishman, "we've no liquid, but we've loads o' prime Cuba leaf, plug, and cigars. How are you off for beef and mutton, or, it might be, a little fresh pork?"

"No pork handy, the day," responded The McGahan. "Twinty head o' bafe, though, and all the mutton ye want. It's me sorrow that I couldn't lawfully sell ye huf or horn. The customs patrol is oll along the coast, looking after smoogglers and the like, and it's loyal to the king we are. God bless him!"

"I'm glad you're law abidin'," replied the captain. "I wouldn't ask you to sell me a pound! Guert Ten Eyck, you and the men have up that choice lot from the after cabin lockers. Mr. McGahan; come aboard and make your own selections. I'm not the kind of man to evade the customs. You'd better rob me of a lot of tobacco and whatever else there is. I couldn't help myself, you know."

"That's what I'll do," said McGahan, with a comical twist of his face. "I'd like to ploonder a privateer. Hurrah for King Garge! Doon wid all rebels! – exceptin' it may be Oirish rebels, and I'm wan o' thim. Ye may sind over a party wid goons and cutlashes to rob me o' the bafe and mutton. I'm thinking there's a good catch o' fish, along shore, but the fisher folk'd niver evade the coostoms to get a little 'baccy."

His boatmen had been listening, and he had not been whispering. One of them now sang out: —

"Your Worship! Plaze tell the bloody pirates to fetch along their plug, and sthale the fish! We're oll a wake sort o' people, riddy to be ploondhered."

It was a bargain! Boats came and went, after that, and when Captain Syme himself expressed his curiosity concerning them, he was sadly informed that the American freebooters had demanded supplies.

Captain Avery did not waste any time in carrying out his part of the contract. He led an overpowering party of well-armed men to the elegant country-seat of The McGahan, two miles away. A cart which was driven along with him contained a number of small boxes and bales.

"Some of McGahan's neighbors," he explained to Guert, "are as ready to be robbed as he is. I'll not have to pay a dollar of cash. The balance o' this trade'll come the other way. If we dared stay, we could sell out our whole cargo."

Guert was getting hold of several new ideas. One was, that a great many Irishmen were about as devoted to the British government as were the people of America. Another was, that war expenses were large and that British taxes were heavy. A great part of the revenue collected came from duties upon imported goods, and these imposts were such as to practically offer bribes to all smugglers.

"I see," he said to the captain. "It was the duty on imported tea that set our war for independence a-going."

"No!" replied Captain Avery. "That was only one p'int in the 'count. We had enough else to fight for. I can tell you one thing, though. All the Irish people'd be up in arms, to-day, if they had any George Washington to lead them. They are treated badly; worse, in some things, than we were."

Neither going nor coming did Guert hear any blessings uttered upon England. The fat oxen and the sheep were hurriedly driven to the shore. Some butchering was done at once, and some salting, but the sailors managed to convey to the schooner more live stock than there was room for. One large sheep-pen was constructed amidships, below deck, that there might be fresh mutton as long as possible. Near it were cattle-stalls, and these would soon be empty, with so large a crew of hungry eaters ready for roast beef and boiled. As for the fish they came along in abundance, and casks of sea-water were provided for their keeping. With them came fishermen and women and dozen of boys and girls, all wild with curiosity concerning the "bloody privateer."

One day more did the Noank linger at her pleasant anchorage. Thus, just as the sun was nearing the western horizon, Up-na-tan, at the beach in the small boat, with its regular crew, raised his hand.

"Whoo-oop!" sounded his war-cry of warning.

"Hark!" said Guert. "That's a bugle! British troops coming! Off we go!"

A gun from the Noank told that the lookout on board had been as alert as was the red man himself.

"Aff wid yez!" yelled a fisherwoman, running frantically toward them. "It's the Donegal Rigimint o' cavalry! They'd cut yez all down! Be aff!"