The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

A wonderful thing is a curtain of sea fog. Sometimes it may be beautiful, but it is never at all under human control. The Noank was running swiftly along and the very breeze which made her do so was getting its grip upon the banks of vapor. It tore one of these in the middle, suddenly. A great rift was opened, and clear water showed across one short half-mile of the tossing sea.

"There she blows!" sang out an old harpooner of the Noank's crew, as if the Boxer had been a whale.

"Luff! Luff!" shouted the British commander. "Bring your guns to bear! We have her! Hurrah!"

"Whoo-oop! Up-na-tan!" came fiercely from behind the breech of the Noank's long eighteen, and the Manhattan's warwhoop was closely followed by the roar of his gun.

"Hard a-lee!" called out Captain Avery. "Sam! Run her into the fog. All hands, to go about. We must get under cover ag'in."

Short range and a good aim, with the Boxer's masts nearly in line, had been bad for the Englishman's triumph. Down came his foretopmast, splintered at the cap, dragging with it enough of spars and hamper to assure that anything like racing condition had been knocked out of the brig. She obeyed her helm, at first. She swung around and her port broadside was delivered; but it was a mere waste of powder and round iron. Not a shot touched the saucy Noank, speeding away through a fog bank.

Loud, indeed, was the startled exclamation of the astonished British commander as he surveyed his unexpected damages.

"'Pon my soul!" he said. "That pirate is going to get away from us. This is too bad, altogether!"

His sailors sprang to do what they might for the wreck, but the appearance of things was unpromising.

"Good for you, Up-na-tan!" said Captain Avery. "That shot tells for old practice. I guess I'd better make you captain of that gun."

"Ole chief keep gun," replied the Indian. "Find gun shoot straight. Good!"

"I'm mighty glad o' that," said the captain. "I mean to train every hand on board, though. We may get stuck where we can't afford to miss a shot. Straight shootin' is better than the heaviest kind o' shootin' that doesn't hit."

The breeze was increasing finely, and away went the swift privateer. She had escaped from her first pursuer, and not far ahead of her, now, were pretty surely her next batch of perils.

CHAPTER VI

THE BRITISH FLEET

The easterly end of Long Island is exceedingly ragged in its contour. It is made up of straggling promontories, bays, inlets, and the adjacent waters contain many islands, large and small, with outlying rocky ledges. The opposite shore, the mainland of New England, is of a similar character. Between them, the eastern sound and the neck of water by which it is to be entered, provide a great deal of pretty circumspect navigation.

It is said, although no one now living was there at the time to collect testimony, that once the mainland and the island were connected by a rugged isthmus, now sunken or washed away. If it were ever there, enough of it is left to require good piloting.

A fleet of war-ships proposing to blockade or supervise the port of Boston, may at the same time extend its operations so as to cork up the Sound. This process, if made sufficiently thorough, may include in the blockade such ports as New London, Providence, New Haven, and their smaller neighbors. All of these, during the Revolutionary War, were not only developing rapidly their regular commercial relations but were nests of privateering enterprises.

The British naval authorities were often unable to detail for this part of their general blockade of America a sufficient number of ships, and it was a service much disliked by their captains and crews, especially in winter.

The area of ocean to be patrolled was wide, and in spite of all watching the Yankee ships ran in and out. Boston, especially, was building up again, after its long period of military occupation, siege, and desolation, much to the disgust of its many enemies.

During some hours after the escape of the Noank from the Boxer, Up-na-tan was down in the hold, and Guert Ten Eyck was with him. The old Manhattan was no builder of ships, whatever he might be able to do for a canoe, but he had seen a great many, here and there. He seemed now to be carrying on a kind of critical investigation of the naval architecture of the schooner.

"What is it?" asked Guert, as his red friend placed a hand curiously upon one of the ribs of the vessel and glanced from that to other timbers.

"Ugh!" said Up-na-tan. "Good stick. Like lobster war-ship. All make schooner strong. Carry long gun!"

"Captain Avery wishes she could," said Guert. "The mate thinks she can't."

"No gun anyhow, now," said the chief, shaking his head. "Wait!"

The subject of the Manhattan's inquiry belonged to a controversy then going forward among the royal naval constructors and sea-captains. The reason why England's third and fourth rate cruisers carried only light guns, and many of them, was simply their frail timbering. Too heavy artillery might rack them dangerously. It would call for precisely the strength of frame provided by American shipyards for craft which might bump an ice-floe.

Up-na-tan was still further informing himself concerning the skeleton of the Noank, when a shout from above summoned them both.

"Guert," called down Captain Avery, "you and he come to the cabin. Now all's clear, you must learn something."

On the deck all things were quiet. Not a sail was in sight that indicated a craft as large as their own. The schooner was spinning along, with all sails set and a fair wind in them. Everything about her, from deck to topmast, wore a clean, orderly, service look, that spoke volumes for the high character of her crew. She was all ready to do her best at any moment, and she was sure of being well handled. Perhaps a seaman would have critically remarked upon the fact that with such a wind she was not taking a course directly out into the Atlantic.

The captain's cabin, well aft below deck, was a small affair. It seemed almost crowded when only half a dozen persons were in it.

"Now, Guert," said Captain Avery, "if I don't make the chief understand, you must explain it to him. Talk Dutch, or any other lingo. He's the sharpest lookout there is on board, and he's a prime steersman. He must know what some things mean."

"What things?" asked Guert.

Two rugged old sailors who had entered the cabin with Sam Prentice, also looked on inquiringly, while the captain went to a locker and took out of it a leather case.

"Guert," he said, "it's the first duty of the commander of a ship that's being taken by an enemy to put his private signal-book overboard. It's kept weighted all the while, so it will sink. Now, Luke Watts did his duty in that particular. His mate and his crew looked on and saw him do it. So did I. They saw him drown something like this."

The case was open, now, and out of it was drawn what appeared to be several sheets of parchments, wired together, so that they might be rolled up like a pamphlet.

"Ugh!" said Up-na-tan. "Chief know 'em. Ship talk with lantern. Talk to other ship with flag. Captain got plenty lantern? Plenty flag? Tell Up-na-tan how."

A deep cupboard under the captain's bunk was at once thrown open, and its contents were interesting. Red, green, blue, yellow, white, large lanterns and small. Beside them lay a collection of sheafs of rockets, each of which carried a written parchment tab to tell its nature. Signal flags were there, also, in tightly tied-up rolls, and Up-na-tan loudly grunted his approval of them.

"First, now, for the book," said the captain. "Every man on board can be trusted to know signals. There isn't one traitor in the Noank, nor a fool, either. Sam and I must go on deck. You and the men and the redskin stay here and study those things. Git 'em all into your head, if you can. We may have a lot o' sharp dodgin' to do, this cruise."

Out he went, taking Sam with him, and then it at once appeared that Guert had become a remarkable kind of schoolmaster, trying to explain to others what he did not know himself. The two sailors were not altogether unlettered men, but lack of practice had left them slow at deciphering handwriting, and Guert seemed to have a knack of it. As for the Indian, he did not know one letter from another, but he could handle flags and lanterns as if they were hunting signs or the totems of clans and tribes. Signal after signal was picked out and its working practically illustrated in questions or answers.

"'Top!" exclaimed Up-na-tan, at last. "Head full! See more by and by." So said the sailors, and Guert himself felt as if he had been going through a hard time at a new school.

"But wasn't that a cute thing of Luke Watts!" he thought, as he came on deck. "I'd like to try some o' those signals on a British ship. I don't know how far we've run. The captain says our tightest squeeze isn't far ahead of us, now."

The schooner, oddly enough, was actually running within sight of Block Island. Some, at least, of her perils must be behind her. Perhaps more would have been if a sailing vessel could go straight ahead, in any direction, like a steamer. That, however, is one of several things that she cannot do. Many an hour of swift sailing, tacking back and forth, must often be extended in gaining only a few miles of her true course.

The crew of the Noank were not at all puzzled by the peculiar manner in which she was handled, and some of their faces betrayed anxiety.

"Guess ole Avery wish dark come," remarked Coco to his friends as they stood together at the foremast. "Lobster out yonder, somewhere."

It was only about the middle of the afternoon, and the captain's telescope was busy every few minutes.

"Ugh!" said Up-na-tan. "'Tack to Montauk. No go out yet. Captain head good. Want fog. Want night."

There was a laugh behind them, and Guert swung around to ask of Sam Prentice: —

"Can you tell me how it is, sir?"

"I guess I can," said the mate. "We know a good deal more'n we did. While you were all below, we spoke a Providence man. Cod-fisher. My boy, there's a whole fleet of Britishers out there, somewhere, spread all along. Merchantmen, troop-ships, cruisers. Some of 'em heavy fellers. We must keep well in, for a while."

"Ugh!" said the red man. "Mate let ole chief take glass. Want look."

Prentice had with him his marine telescope, an unusually good one, and he at once handed it to the Manhattan.

"Your eyes are 'most as good as glasses," he said. "Let's see what you can make out with that. I saw a sail, myself. Pretty well down, easterly."

There is a great deal of difference in eyes, even in good ones, and the American red men possess peculiar faculties for sign reading.

"Ugh!" said the Indian, after slowly and carefully sweeping the sea and the horizon with the glass. "Bad! Noank 'tay in. One war-ship. One, two, three, four other ship."

"Men-of-war and the convoy!" exclaimed Prentice. "Lyme Avery! Here they are! Come this way! If the redskin hasn't sighted 'em!"

"Ship o' line," now remarked Up-na-tan. "Frigate. Little gun ship."

"Let me take the glass," said the captain, as he came; "it's a good deal more'n we had reason to expect. Makes things look kind o' cloudy."

"Well," said Sam, "it's about what the Boston pilot told that Providence feller. If we'd ha' gone on in too much of a hurry, we'd ha' run right in among 'em."

"They're north o' their best course for New York," remarked the captain. "I wonder if any of 'em are from Halifax. It may mean more army to fight General Washington."

"Mebbe," said Sam. "It's likely some of 'em are the reg'lar coast cruisers. As for the convoy, they're slow and heavy. It's about the course I'd expect them to run."

"We'll take in sail and heave to," said the captain. "Our safest hidin'd be under Martha's Vineyard."

They were not a very long reach from that island now. There were several fishing smacks in sight, and none of them were taking in sail. It looked, rather, as if they were all heading homeward. Perhaps they, too, had been warned of a British fleet, and every man on board of them was in danger of pitiless impressment, if his boat were to come within range of the guns of a king's ship.

In came the sails of the Noank, and then came a time of watching, waiting, and anxiety.

"Nine sail in sight," remarked Captain Avery, at last, "and there's more'n that to come. British flag on every one of 'em. Of course, they've sighted us, long before this."

"One comin' for us, I guess," said Coco.

"Headin' this way, sure!"

"I guess so," said the captain, quietly. "It's gettin' dusk, though. Her glasses won't do any good, much longer. – Men! All sail! Jump, now! Our time's come!"

His manner had undergone a sudden change, and there was a red flush on his face. The men heard him say to his son: —

"No, Vine, I won't be taken. I'll fight that nighest feller, if I've got to. He isn't a heavy one."

His orders went out fast, and the schooner was quickly under a cloud of canvas. She had indeed been noticed by the British commanders, and arrangements had been made to overhaul her, as a matter of course.

Her flight, or at least her escape, from such a fleet as she was now facing, was an absurdity not to be thought of. Whatever sort of American craft she might be, she was soon to have an officer and a boat's crew on board of her, ascertaining how many of her sailors it was best to take into the service of the king.

"Father," suggested Vine, "they won't send a boat till they're nearer than this, a good deal. The sea's getting a bit rough, too, and the wind's fresh'ning."

"I don't care how many boats they send," replied the captain. "I can sink 'em as they come. We'll run farther in behind Nantucket, but we won't go too far. The redskin says he saw a topsail off the channel that's cut too square to suit us."

"Reg'lar cruiser's tops'l," put in Sam Prentice. "How she came to be there, I don't know. Are they layin' a trap for us? Lyme, this 'ere's goin' to be touch and go."

"It'll be go, then," said the captain.

"Maybe we won't touch, either. It's promisin' the darkest kind o' night. They won't dream o' what our next long tack'll be. – Men! All hands! Hark a moment, now!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" came back from all sides, and as many as could came crowding around him.

"There may be more'n twenty sail, of all sorts, yonder, for all we know," he said. "We make it out it's the British army supply fleet, with troop-ships full of redcoats and Hessians. Likely, too, there are reg'lar merchantmen for New York. They've a strong convoy, j'ined, jest now, by the blockade ships, big and little. I calc'late, the more of 'em there is, the better for us. I'm goin' to run the Noank right through 'em. Sam Prentice, take some men and fetch up the lanterns and rockets. Now, boys, I ain't sure but we'll have a little fun, but there mustn't be a loud word spoke on board this schooner."

With subdued laughter and chuckles of appreciation, the men scattered to their duties. There was not a sign of fear among them and hardly an expression of doubt as to the result.

The schooner herself seemed to go into the daring undertaking before her, with all her heart as well as with all sails set. She swung around upon her seaward tack and went with a speed that did her credit.

It was dark, and the darkness was deepening. Far away as yet, and in all directions, the lights that were hung out by the British ships, both of war and peace, were glimmering and twinkling as they rose and fell with the surges that bore them. It was shortly evident that some of these were signals that were exchanging, in accordance with the directions of the secret signal code, and Captain Avery began to assort and arrange his lanterns.

"Sam," he said, "I guess I'll answer that call to close up with the flag-ship. All the rest of our fleet are answerin' it."

"Lyme," responded Prentice, "I'm in for fun, if there is any. Why couldn't we mix 'em up?"

"We'll try, anyhow," said the captain.

"Cap'n," put in Up-na-tan, almost respectfully, so strong was getting to be his warrior admiration for the cunning and courage of his commander, "s'pose we tell lobster ship, rebel enemy come. Rebel right here. Make 'em feel good. Fire gun!"

"I guess that's about as sharp a thing as we could do," replied the captain. "Guert, pick out those white rockets. Hand 'em over."

Guert was having the fireworks under his especial charge, for he was found able to read the somewhat roughly written tabs.

"Here they are, sir," he said in half a minute. "There's plenty more of that kind."

Vine Avery had the lanterns, and he had already made use of them in mocking replies to more than one swinging, dancing signal.

Now, as the captain lighted the rockets, up into the gloom went fizzing and flashing the prescribed announcement of danger. Each rocket let out, as it exploded, a pretty large ball of red flame, as if to emphasize its message. War-ship after war-ship told her character by responding with a similar rocket, the merchantmen keeping quiet, and then from the flag-ship of the fleet came the boom of a heavy gun.

"Heavens!" suddenly exclaimed Captain Avery, as he watched for those responses. "One o' their cruisers is nigher'n I'd counted on! Starboard your helm, Sanders! All ready to go about!"

"Ship ahoy!" came out of the gloom beyond them. "Amphitrite! What ship's that? Where are the enemy? What is she?"

"Kr-g-h-um-n, of Liverpool," sang out Captain Avery huskily, indistinctly, through his trumpet.

"They won't make much out of that," Guert was thinking, but the British officer angrily shouted back: —

"Kraken, of Liverpool? You blockhead! What do I care for that? Where away's the Yankee?"

"Armed schooner, sir! Pirate! Passed close by, westerly. Say 'bout two p'ints south."

"Where away, now, stupid?"

"On the lee bow, sir," trumpeted the captain. "Runnin' free. We was nigh 'nough to see her guns."

"Blockhead!" came back. "Why didn't you signal sooner? You deserve a good rope's ending! Close up with the admiral!"

"Ay, ay, sir! There she goes! They're gettin' hold of her," responded Captain Avery.

For at that moment another gun from another man-of-war sounded well to leeward. It was accompanied by more rocket signals that went up to be read by all the fleet.

"Captain," sang out Guert, as he tried to read them, "green rocket bursting into red. It means 'Pirate in chase of merchantman.'"

"All right," said the captain, "it's some other feller. We're not in chase of anybody. Up-na-tan! Vine! swing out that biggest blue lantern. I'll send up a blue rocket burstin' yeller and green. Then douse the lanterns."

"What does that mean, father?" inquired Vine, raising the blue lights.

"Mean?" uproariously responded the captain. "Why! it means 'Mutiny on board ship. Send help to quell mutiny.'"

The British admiral saw that rare and exceedingly annoying signal with intense indignation.

"That's it!" he stormed, "another 'cursed mutiny! That comes of crowding the king's ships with the off-scourings of the merchant service, and jail-birds, and slaves, and picaroons, and 'pressed Yankee rebels. Not one of 'em's fit to be trusted. The king'll lose ships by it! They'd better be all hung!"

Meantime, under an almost perilous press of sail for such a wind and so rough a sea, the stanch, swift Noank was dashing along her course. Every minute carried her oceanward, but not all her dangers were behind her.

Rapid signalling went on between the British war-ships and their now frightened convoy. The unarmed vessels were hurrying toward their protectors like so many chickens toward a clucking hen. No other incident or accident of any importance occurred to any of them. As hour after hour went by in the darkness of the night, and then in the very chilly morning that followed, an eager, angry, discomforting process of inquiry went forward from ship to ship. Upon which of them had been the mutiny? Had it succeeded? Had it been put down? Did the mutineers take the boats and get away?

"Not on this ship, sir," was the altogether uniform response, and all the vessels known to be in company had been accounted for.

Not only was it that not one solitary mutineer could be discovered: it also appeared that no such ship as the Kraken, of Liverpool, had at any time joined herself to that convoy.

"'Pon my soul!" exclaimed the astonished admiral, at last, "this is great! Ponsonby, my dear fellow, the chap that hailed you in the dark must have been the Yankee pirate himself. What do you think?"

"I think he got away, sir," calmly replied Captain Ponsonby, of the Amphitrite, forty-four. "The rebel rascal has slipped through our fingers in the most audacious manner. Showed pluck, too."

"He did!" groaned the admiral.

CHAPTER VII

HUNTING THE NOANK

An army in garrison will surely spend money, officers and men. So will a fleet in port. The British camps, upon and near Manhattan Island contained thousands of soldiers, and the warships on the station, or arriving and departing, were numerous. There was sure to be, upon almost any day, enough of "shore leave" or camp leave given, and the streets of New York City were often even brilliant with uniforms. The burnt district could already show many new buildings, mostly shops and warehouses, and the streets were clear of rubbish. The merchants and shopkeepers were said to be doing very well; some of them were making fortunes out of the needs of the king's forces. In the social life of the town there had been a notable change. Rich loyalists from the interior had fled to New York for safety. All the old houses were occupied, in one way and another. Some new ones were built or building. There was a great deal of dinner giving and the like. On the whole, therefore, the ruined city was beginning a new and very peculiar era of prosperity. This was to continue, during the years of the war, to such a degree that upon the return of peace all things would be in readiness for rapid commercial development.

The harbor, with so many ships in it that were all at anchor, wore a frosty, sleepy look, one winter morning. Boats were pulling here and there, from ship to ship, or between the ships and the shore. The morning gun had long since sounded, and the reveilles at the forts and camps. All the flags and pennants were drooping upon their staffs in the still, cold air, and nowhere did any sails appear to be spreading.

Upon the after deck of one elderly looking three-master stood a man who was evidently taking a thoughtful survey of her.

"Levtenant," he said, to a British naval officer standing near him, "this 'ere craft is ready for sea."

"I've brought your sailing orders, then," said the officer. "The sooner you're off, the better."

"Jest so!" said Captain Luke Watts. "They all tell me she isn't a bad one to go. I'm goin' to give her all the chances that are in her. I ain't in any hurry for a return cargo, though. I've had one lesson."

"Pretty narrow escape, they say," said the lieutenant. "It wasn't your fault, though. You'll be taking return cargoes from New York to Liverpool, before long. This war's nearly over."

"Guess it is," said Watts, "but it'll be spring before anything more can be done with Mr. Washington."

"Cornwallis'll catch him, then," was the confident rejoinder. "The old Virginia fox can hole away among his Jersey hills for a few weeks longer. Then Cornwallis promises to dig him out."

"Oh, he'll do that, fast enough," said Watts. "I s'pose, if I ever git back, I may find him a prisoner in New York. My first business, though, is to git this craft across the Atlantic. I'm to have a thin crew and no guns, and I've to depend on my sails altogether. There are risks."

"Can't help it," said the lieutenant, "and you mustn't lose her."

"You may tell the admiral," answered Watts, a little sharply, "that if I don't, he may have me shot."

"I'll tell him so."

"It's Liverpool or my neck!" said Watts, emphatically. "Tell him I'll take the northerly course, weather or no weather, out o' the way o' pirates, and he needn't be uneasy."

The carrying of that report to the captain of the port yet more firmly established the confidence which was reposed in the loyalty of Captain Watts. He was to be allowed to use his own judgment very freely, and he was likely to have continuous employment as a Tory commander of British ships.