The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

"She may be so," said Rachel, "but I have been at a Friends' meeting, and some of the elderly men are good accountants. They had somewhat to say concerning the matter of exhaustion."

"Oh, what did they say?" asked Mrs. Avery, at the ironing-board. "Nobody can beat a lot of old Quakers at arithmetic."

"I will tell thee," said Rachel. "This was their testimony concerning this dark and dreadful year, and concerning last year also. They computed that for every American who fell in battle or died in camp, fifteen more young men became of age, ready to take his place. The army is not dying out. For every acre of land really laid waste by the British, one hundred fresh acres of newly opened farms were put under cultivation. For every ton of American shipping captured by the British, five tons of new shipping were built in American shipyards, and ten tons of English shipping were captured or destroyed by our cruisers. Our commerce, therefore, dieth not rapidly. Thee should not forget, too, that our girls who are coming of age are worth something for the future prosperity of the country. None of them are killed in battles, and nearly all of them get married soon. The elders testified, moreover, that while we have lost the right to send all of our productions to England, we have gained the right to trade with all the rest of the world. We wax richer and more numerous, they said, and the timid and the unbelieving boweth his head, and weepeth, and declareth that this is our exhaustion."

"Hurrah for the Quakers!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery. "They are right! But, Rachel, it is getting into September, and it is ever so long since we have had any news from the Noank."

"Two more prizes came," replied Rachel, "and thy son Vine came back to thee in safety."

"Yes," said his mother, "but it was only to go out with Sam Prentice in that bark, for another privateering trip to the West Indies. I don't care: I'm almost glad Vine isn't with General Schuyler's army and just about to have a battle with Burgoyne."

"It'll be a hard one," said Mrs. Ten Eyck. "They say the British have all the Six Nations with them this time."

"Anneke," said Rachel, "does thee not know the red men? I do. They will dance and shout much, and they will take the king's presents. They will do many murders, for a time, but all the British generals can never turn Indians into soldiers. They may not be depended upon."

Poor General Burgoyne, struggling desperately among the mountains and forests and swamps, was already beginning to understand the really worthless character of his vaunted Indian allies. They were skirmishers and scouts, truly, but they were not trustworthy soldiers. At the same time, their presence in his camps did more than anything else to rally against him the full power of the New York and New England patriots. Many a man whose patriotism had been lukewarm or wavering took down his rifle from its hooks and hurried away to do his best to prevent the threatened great inroad of the Iroquois.

The ports of the Southern states as well as of the Northern were sending out both public and private armed vessels, and the infant navy of the United States was growing rapidly. It was beginning, also, to establish for itself a high character for efficiency and daring. Even when its first adventurous captains could not obtain ships that suited them, they did wonders with old hulks and half-refitted merchantmen. American shipyards were largely increasing their capacities, while American sailors were proving that seamanship and courage were of more importance than mere wood and canvas.

The autumn days that came were bright and beautiful, even along the misty coasts of the British islands. There had been, previously, a succession of severe storms and a host of craft had lingered in harbor, awaiting the arrival of this fine weather. Now it was here, the seas which bordered Britain, France, the Netherlands, and, away northward, the Danish coast, the North Sea, and the Baltic, seemed to swarm with sails. These were all too numerous for one craft more to attract especial attention.

There were war-ships of all sorts and sizes, and of several nationalities. These were all supposed by each other to be in somewhat jealous and exclusive care of the welfare and conduct of their own traders. One flag only was notably absent, as yet, and there were not many seagoing Europeans, comparatively speaking, who had even so much as seen the stars and stripes. This was the bright flag of the future, nor was anybody ready to foresee that it would thereafter become of great importance in the commerce of the world.

A schooner, apparently a merchantman, going along under easy sail, was taking a course from the northward into the British Channel. There were many two-masters in the North Sea carrying the Baltic and Scandinavian trade, and this might be one of them. A sleepy British line-of-battle ship in the distance, easterly, did not care to meddle with her, flying as she did the Norway flag. She might be a lumber-boat, with her hold full of barrel heads and staves, and her deck cluttered with spare spars for the Hull builders.

A closer look at that same deck would have dismissed the spars from the supposition, and certainly no ordinary lumber business could have called for so numerous a crew.

One of these, a short and brawny man, was all the while busy with a telescope, uttering pretty loudly his readings of all he saw. No doubt he was a sailor familiar with these seas, and had been selected as a lookout for that reason. "That line-o'-battle ship won't pay us any attention, sir," he said. "We're getting well along past her. There isn't a speck o' danger in sight but one."

"What's that, Groot?" said Captain Avery, arising from his seat upon a coil of rope. "What do you see?"

"Revenue cutter, sir," replied Groot, "or I'm mistaken. She's brig-rigged. Almost dead ahead. She'll try to overhaul us, sir."

"I a'most hope she will," said the captain, testily. "We'll keep right on. We've sailed all the way 'round Scotland, and the best fun we've had was goin' ashore for fish and to scare the people. We haven't taken in a dollar's worth."

"Some o' the custom's cutters are likely craft," remarked a grizzled seaman near him. "They're apt to be pretty well armed. It wouldn't pay very well to tackle one of 'em. She might turn and tackle us."

"Well, Taber," said the captain, "we'll sheer away from her, of course, but I won't run away very far, unless that there liner gets too nigh us."

"She won't," said Groot. "She's taking in sail now. We're too small game for her to chase after."

"We'll let out every inch of our own canvas, then," suddenly shouted the captain. "I've an idea in my head. All hands prepare for action! My notion is that that feller's right there on the lookout for us. By this time every British captain has heard that we are cruisin' 'round. 'Bout ship! Cast loose that pivot-gun. We may have to try a shot with it in less'n half an hour. Taber, go to the wheel. Men! I think we're goin' to be waked up!"

His further orders went out fast, and every man on board seemed to feel as if a kind of relief had come. Day after day, most of the time in bad weather, they had beaten along the Irish coasts, and then the Scotch. The only important ships they had seen had been French or British cruisers, or else merchantmen which were altogether too near an armed protector. For fishing boats and mere coasters they had no appetite. It had, therefore, been only dull business for overcrowded, uncomfortable men, eager for adventures and prize-money.

The sails went out, and as they caught the breeze the Noank sprang gayly forward.

"That's it, sir," said Groot, lowering his glass. "She was hove to when I first sighted her. She'll cross our course next tack, and there isn't another keel anywhere near us."

"That's our luck," said the captain. "I guess we can handle any custom-house boat. I know what their armaments are, mostly. They're all good runners, but they don't count on much resistance from smugglers, and their guns are short-nosed."

If he had been on board of the brig he was speaking of at that moment, he might have changed his opinion a little. A revenue protector she was, assuredly, and she was more than a mere cutter. She was well manned, well armed. It looked, indeed, as if what might be her ordinary ship's company had been reënforced, perhaps by a detail from a man-of-war. Her commander was a regular navy lieutenant, and he was a seamanlike old fellow. The four guns each broadside that she carried were the long six-pound chasers that were then going into the new revenue service vessels, and they were good pieces for their caliber. She was a dangerous customer for the kind of antagonist she was expected to meet.

"Mr. Tracy," said a young officer on her quarter-deck to the gray lieutenant, "what do you think of her, sir?"

"My boy," replied his commander, "she's the chap we're here for. She has just the style o' foremast and tops'l that Syme told us of. That's the Yankee. I can't believe, though, that she's all he said she was. The fellow was badly scared, you know."

"We'll knock some splinters out of her, and take her in, then," laughed the young man, jauntily. "You were right, sir, in coming this way. The others missed her."

"We won't do that," said Tracy. "All hands clear away for action! We are going to take that American privateer!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" came cheerily back, and the crew sprang away in genuine British readiness for anything like a brush with an enemy.

An ugly antagonist the Arran was likely to be, and she was sure of good handling. She was speedy, too, and the two vessels were all the while nearing each other. It was to be noted, nevertheless, as Captain Avery had said, that at the same time they were getting away out of reach of the overpowerful ship of the line.

"I'm going to strike first," he remarked, "and I mean to hit hard. Ready, Up-na-tan! Williams, pull down that Norway bunting, and run up the stars and stripes! We'll fight under our own flag to-day. I'll cripple that fellow or take him. If I don't, we're bound for a British prison, instead of Amsterdam."

"That's so, sir," said Groot. "She's a pretty big bird for us, I'm thinking."

"Big or little, we'll fight her! Three cheers for the flag!" sang out the captain.

The three cheers were rousers, and the Noank gained a point by it. Lieutenant Tracy had been using his glass just then, and he angrily roared out: —

"Fletcher, my boy! If they haven't challenged us! Give 'em a broadside! Hurrah! They mean to show fight!"

Good gunners were those mariners of the Arran. Well sent was that broadside; and in a moment more Captain Avery was leaning over his port bulwark, and was making a somewhat serious examination.

"Hurrah!" he shouted in his turn. "So much for ice-fender timbers and planking. Two shot struck fair and didn't go through. Up-na-tan, let fly! Show 'em the difference!"

The Manhattan did not obey at once. He was sighting, sighting, sighting, for almost a minute, and the men at the broadside guns were following his example.

"Fire!" shouted the captain, and even then there was an irritating pause.

"Ugh!" grunted the red man, at last. "Ole chief wait and see brig bowsprit. Send shot behind it."

The long eighteen spoke out, and was instantly followed by the three sixes on that side of the Noank. It was at the very moment when Lieutenant Tracy remarked, inquiringly: —

"What? Don't they mean to answer us? You don't say they'll surrender without firing a shot? That isn't like 'em, now – "

His next utterance was much louder.

"George!" he shouted. "There goes my bowsprit! The jolly-boat's knocked into matchwood! I declare! There's a hole in the mains'l! Is anybody hurt?"

"Not a man, sir!" shouted back Fletcher, cheerfully. "We'll give it to 'em!"

The brig had been already going about, and her other broadside was as well directed as the first. It would have been bad for the Noank but for her heavy timbers and the lightness of Tracy's metal. She was hulled in three places, and there was a ragged split in her foresail. It did not prevent her going about, however, and her next trio of iron messengers were as well aimed as were the Englishman's.

"They hulled us, sir," reported the Arran's sailing-master. "No great harm. Three men hurt by splinters. The after rigging's cut a bit. We must finish that chap, sir."