The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

"Short work, now, Groot," said the captain. "If you can't find your men right away, I'll take a look after mine."

Away they went, along the water front, until they were halted by Groot in front of an immense, dingy old warehouse.

"Opdyke Freres," he read the faded sign over the entrance of it. "They are here, yet. Brest and Amsterdam. What goods they can't handle in France, they can in Holland. They'll do the fair thing by us, – so we'll be sure to come to them again."

"That's our grip on their honesty, this time," said Captain Avery.

In two minutes more, the entire boat's crew of the Noank was gathered in a counting-room in the rear of the warehouse. It looked as if a hundred generations of spiders had made their webs in its corners, undisturbed.

A short, fat man turned upon a high stool at a desk to inquire, in Dutch: —

"Oh! Mynheer Groot! Not hung yet? Is it some new business?"

Part of Groot's reply was a rapid introduction of his friends, while he stated their errand. There could be nothing but utter mutual confidence in such a case, and the head of the house of Opdyke Brothers was exceedingly outspoken.

"We take the deck-cargo to-night," he said. "Our lighters will come as soon as it is dark. You will pay the custom-house men ten thousand francs down, so they will not know anything about it. I will be there and one of my brothers. We will take off as much more as we can to-morrow night. You will go to Amsterdam with your next cargo or prizes. The British are increasing their guard. Ha, ha! It is war with them, too, and they take some prizes. We buy of them every now and then."

Guert was listening eagerly to all that was said. He was obtaining new ideas and information as to the manner in which plunder taken at sea by all sorts of war-ships may be marketed.

"It's the war law of buccaneering," he thought. "If England and America were at peace, then our business would be piracy."

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.