Within the Capes

Captain Knight was standing in front of the fire, talking with Mr. Lovejoy, when Tom came into the office. He shook hands very heartily when Mr. Lovejoy made them acquainted, and said some kind things to Tom – that he had no doubt but that their intercourse would be pleasant; at least, he hoped so (smiling), for, from that which he had heard of Tom, he felt that it would be his own fault if it were not. He said that he was sorry that he had not been on hand to oversee matters, as he should have done, although he knew that these things could be in no better hands; that his mother had been so sick that she had not been expected to live, and that it had not been possible for him to come on from Connecticut sooner.

Tom felt relieved to find that Captain Knight had such a good reason for not having been on hand to see to the proper lading of his vessel. He also gathered from this speech that the captain was a Yankee, which he had not known before. Jack Baldwin told him afterward that he hailed from New London, and had the name of being a very good sailor and a great fighter.

He was quite a young man, a little older than Tom, perhaps, but hardly as old as Jack Baldwin. He was a fine gentlemanly fellow, and looked not unlike a picture of Commodore Decatur that Tom had seen in the window of a print shop in Walnut street, though Knight was the younger man.

After a short time Jack Baldwin came into the office; Captain Knight and he spoke to one another, for they had met before.

Presently, as they all stood talking together, Mr. Lovejoy asked of a sudden whether it would be possible, at a pinch, to weigh anchor the next day.

Tom was struck all aback at this, and could hardly believe that he heard aright.

“I should think,” said Captain Knight, “that it might be done;” and, from the way in which he spoke, Tom could see that he and Mr. Lovejoy had already talked the matter over and had pretty well settled it between themselves.

“What do you think, Mr. Baldwin,” said old Mr. Lovejoy, and all looked at Jack for an answer.

“I think, sir,” said Jack, in his rough way, “I think, sir, as Captain Knight says, that it might be done. A man might cruise from here to Cochin China, in a dory, provided that he had enough hard-tack and water aboard. If he met a gale, though, he would be pretty sure to go to the bottom, – and so should we.”

Tom could easily see that Captain Knight was touched at the way in which Jack had spoken, as well he might be. It was, however, Jack’s usual way of speaking, and it is not likely that he meant anything by it.

“What do you think, Mr. Granger?” said Captain Knight, turning quickly to Tom, with a little red spot burning in each cheek.

Tom was sorry that he was brought into the matter, for he saw, as has been said, that Captain Knight was touched, and he did not want to say anything to gall him further. However, he answered, as he was asked: “I am afraid, sir,” said he, smiling, “that it may perhaps be a little risky to weigh anchor just yet.” Of course, he could not explain when it was not asked of him to do so, but he knew that it would take fully ten days, if not two weeks, to get the Nancy Hazlewood into anything like fit sailing trim. Not only were the decks hampered up with a mass of stores of all kinds (for it had been necessary to crowd them aboard in a great hurry), but no start had been made at drawing out watch, quarter and station bills. Tom could not help thinking that if Captain Knight had been on hand during the past week, he never would have given it as his opinion that the vessel was fit to sail, – even on a pinch.

When Tom gave his answer, Captain Knight turned hastily away to the fire-place, and began in a nervous sort of a way to finger a letter-stamp that lay on the mantle-shelf. Any one could see that he was very much irritated; but in a few moments he turned around again, and seemed quiet enough, only that the red still burned in his cheeks. Mr. Lovejoy tried to throw oil on the troubled water.

“Mr. Granger,” said he, resting his hand ever so lightly on Tom’s arm for a moment, “Mr. Granger has had a great deal to do this past week, and maybe (smiling) the overpress of work makes him think that there is more yet to be done than there really is. I wouldn’t,” said he, taking up a letter from his desk, “I wouldn’t think for a moment, and neither would Captain Knight, of letting the Hazlewood leave her anchorage just now, if it were not for this packet, which was sent to me this morning, about half-past ten o’clock.”

Here he handed the packet to Jack Baldwin, who read it, and then passed it to Tom without a word. It was the news that Beresford had lifted the blockade of the Delaware.

“You see,” said Mr. Lovejoy, “here is a good chance of getting away. There is no knowing how soon John Bull will shut the door again, and then, here we’ll be penned up for six months, or more, perhaps.”

Then Captain Knight spoke again. He said that while the ship might not be in fit trim for sailing in an ordinary case, some risks must be run with her, for risks, greater or less, must always be taken in this sort of service. He said that he proposed to run for the Capes, and put into Lewes Harbor if the weather seemed likely to be heavy. They could get in proper trim there just as easily as they could in Philadelphia. He also said that, being just inside of the Capes, they would not only have good harborage, but could either slip out to sea or run up the bay, in case that any of the enemy’s cruisers should appear in the offing. Another great advantage was that they would be this much further on their cruise, and, if the weather turned out well, could take their chances and run for Key West, even if the ship were not in the best of order.

“I know,” said he, “that both Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Granger have been bred to caution in the merchant service, where cargoes and storage are almost the first things to consider, but” (here he looked straight at Jack), “one must have some courage in the sort of service that we are about to enter upon, for a lack of that is almost as great a fault as poor seamanship.”

There was a great deal of reason in the first part of this speech, and Tom could not help seeing it, though for all that he was troubled at the step which they seemed about to take. As for what was last said, he felt that it was most uncalled for, for he knew that Jack Baldwin was as brave as any man living; nor was he, I think, a coward.

Jack was very angry. He said that if any occasion should arise, he hoped to show Captain Knight that he would dare to do as much as any man that ever walked a deck-plank, no matter whom he might be; that he would say no more about lying in port, and was now willing to sail at any time – the sooner the better.

Poor old Mr. Lovejoy was very much troubled at the ill feeling between the two men. He talked to both very kindly until, after a while, the trouble seemed to clear away somewhat, and things went more smoothly.

At last it was settled that if the wind held to the northward (it had been blowing from that quarter for the last two days) they should weigh anchor at three o’clock in the afternoon, so as to take advantage of the ebb tide, and run down as far as Lewestown harbor at least.

“What do you say to all this, Tom?” said Jack, as the two walked down to the dock together.

“I say nothing, Jack.”

“It seems to me that you never do say anything,” said Jack, “but I say something; I say that we are all a pack of lubberly fools, and that the worst one amongst us is that walking sea dandy, for he ought to know better.”

Tom could not but agree with a part of this speech, but he made no answer, for it could do no good.

The anchor was weighed at three o’clock the next day as had been fixed upon, and they ran down the river with the wind E. N. E. and an ebb tide to help them along; and so began the cruise of the Nancy Hazlewood.

All this may seem to be spun out somewhat over long, but I tell it to you that you may see just why the Nancy Hazlewood sailed when she did, which was ten days before she should have done. The day of sailing was Friday, the 20th of April, 1813.

Tom wrote a letter to Patty Penrose on the evening before he sailed. It was a long letter and he told her many things, but he did not tell her that the vessel in which he had sailed as second mate was a privateersman.

It may be well that the Nancy Hazlewood should be described, that you may have a notion of the craft in which Tom Granger went upon his first and last privateering cruise. She was a full-rigged ship of five hundred and fifty tons, and, though so small, had a poop and a top-gallant forecastle.

Tom had rarely seen a vessel with handsomer lines.

She was evidently intended for great speed, though, in his judgment, she was rather heavily sparred for a vessel of her size. It afterward proved that she was so. She carried eight thirty-two pound carronades on the main deck, and two long twelves, one on the forecastle and one on the poop; and about one hundred men. Altogether, though not so heavily armed as the Dolphin or Comet of Baltimore, she was one of the most substantial as well as one of the swiftest privateersmen that ever left any port of the country during the war.

As a rule, privateersmen were swift-sailing brigs or schooners, heavily armed and manned, and depending largely upon their prizes for provisions; but the Nancy Hazlewood was fitted out almost as completely as though she were in the regular service.

All that night and during Saturday the 21st it blew heavily from the N. E. On Saturday evening, however, the weather broke and there seemed a prospect of its being clear the next day. On Sunday forenoon at two bells the Nancy Hazlewood was nearly abreast of Lewestown harbor. Captain Knight was on the poop at the time, and he gave orders to Tom, who was the officer of the deck, that a craft should be signaled to take off the pilot.

Tom was struck all aback at this; it was the first hint that he had had that Captain Knight did not intend to put into Lewestown harbor after all. It was in rather an uncomfortable state of mind that he gave the needful orders, had the jack run up at the fore and the vessel hove to.

Captain Knight stood beside Tom, his hands clasped behind him, watching the pilot boat as it presently hoisted sail and bore down under the lee quarter. What his feelings were cannot be told; Tom’s were uncomfortable enough, as has been said. He knew that Captain Knight must have had good and sufficient reason for that which he was about to do; nevertheless, his heart sank as he cast his eyes around and saw the confusion everywhere; the deck littered with all sort of gear and hamper. There is an old saying that a vessel is never ready for sea until a week after leaving port. Tom thought that the Nancy Hazlewood was at least three weeks behind time.

Presently Jack Baldwin came up from below. He cast his eyes quickly aloft, and then he looked at the pilot boat, which was now close under the lee quarter.

Tom could see that he took it all in in a moment.

He came straight across the deck to where Captain Knight and Tom Granger were standing, and touched his hat to the captain.

“Captain Knight,” said he.

“Sir?” said the captain, turning quickly upon him.

“The understanding was that we were to put into Lewes Harbor, for a time; at least, so I understood it. May I ask if you intend to put to sea, after all?”

Tom stood aghast. He had never heard an officer speak to his captain in such a way in all his life before. There was no better seaman afloat than Jack Baldwin, and it must have been a serious case, in his opinion, that would excuse him in so addressing his commanding officer.

As for Captain Knight, he grew white to the lips.

He spoke in a low tone, and very slowly, but his voice trembled with the weight of his anger. “Mr. Baldwin,” said he, “I don’t know where you have sailed, or what discipline you have seen, that has taught you to allow yourself to question your captain’s intentions to your captain’s self. Understand me, sir, once and for all: I am the chief officer of this ship, and I will not have you, nor any man aboard, question me. You hear me? That will do, sir; go to your room.”

The two men looked at one another for a moment. Tom held his breath, expecting to hear Jack blaze out with something that would get him into more trouble than ever. However, he said nothing, but swung on his heel and went below.

Captain Knight stood beside Tom, in silence, his breath coming and going quickly; suddenly, he too turned and walked hastily to the cabin, banging the door behind him.

Tom leaned on the rail, sick at heart; he felt miserable about the whole matter. Here he was, embarked on a cruise for which he had no liking, in the stormy season of the year, in a ship which he believed to be unfit for sailing, with a crew that had no discipline, and the captain and the first mate at loggerheads before they were out of harbor. He would have given an eye to be safe ashore again.

And yet, that Sunday morning was not a day to breed troubled thoughts. Tom had rarely seen a lovelier one; the air seemed more like June than April. The last few days of rain had washed the air until it was as clear as crystal. One could see every window pane in the little town of Lewes. There was a sentry walking up and down on the newly-made earthworks in front of the town, and at every turn that he took at the end of his beat, his bayonet flashed like a star. The ship rose and fell lazily on the heaving of the ground swell that rolled in around the Capes. Down to the southward the white sands stretched away into the looming of the distance, rimmed with a whiter line of foam until all was lost in the misty haze cast up by the tumbling surf.

The pilot boat had now run up near to them, and was launching a dory from her deck. Tom stood leaning on the rail, looking at her, and presently the pilot came and stood beside him. He was a short, powerful man, bull-necked and long-armed. A shock of hair and a grizzled beard seemed to make a sort of frame around his face. Even he felt uncomfortable at that which had just passed.