The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

"I'll send word to Colonel Ledyard," said Captain Havens. "Hadden, you and four men come with me. I must go out and meet 'em with a boat. Lieutenant Brandagee, you may tell the colonel I will anchor the ships in the harbor mouth, so that their guns may support our batteries, if the British try to run in to-morrow."

Every gun would count in such a case, it was true, but half an hour later, on the deck of the Noank, he was told by Captain Morgan: —

"No, sir! Their boats would be too much for us, so far out as that. We'll run farther in and lie still till morning. After daylight our guns'll be good for something, I can tell you. Ledyard'll say I'm right."

"Take your own course," said the captain, "only be ready if they come. Now, that's settled. – Morgan! This is bad news about Lyme Avery. I don't want to be the man to tell his wife."

"No more do I," said Morgan. "Taber says he'd a'most as soon be shot. Don't I wish, though, that Lyme was alive, to hear of the surrender of Burgoyne's army. It makes me feel better'n I did. We hardly felt safe 'bout comin' in at all. For all we knew, we might be sailin' into a British port and under the king's guns."

"It hasn't quite come to that yet," said Captain Havens. "I can tell you, though, the country's wider awake than it ever was before. Have you heard about Sam Prentice and Vine Avery? They got in long ago. So did your other prizes. What did you say this one with you is?"

"It's a long story," said Morgan. "Joe Taber's captain of her. He knows more 'bout her than I do. She was a British privateer. Lyme Avery was killed when we took her. Now! – My head's in a kind of whirl. Havens, I'm thinkin' of Lyme one minute, and the next I'm thinkin' of Burgoyne and the way he was defeated. Jest you hold on with any more questions till some time to-morrow. The first thing for Taber and me is to get farther in."

There might be little time to spare, indeed, if a British line-of-battle ship and three frigates were in the offing, drawing on toward cannon range of them. Therefore the Noank and the Lynx stood slowly in, feeling their way, and as yet their presence was known only to a few boatmen and the garrison of Fort Griswold. Colonel Ledyard himself had settled one question.

"No," he said, "we will wait. The good news and the bad news will keep till morning. Let Mrs. Avery sleep – don't wake her. It'll be hard enough for her. – I thought a great deal of Lyme Avery!"

So the little that was left of the night waned away, and all New London remained in ignorance of any important arrival. As the sun arose, however, a gun rang out from Fort Griswold, and all who were awake sprang up to listen.

A minute passed, while hundreds were hastily dressing, and then another gun sounded. One full minute more, for there were those who counted, and the third gun began to make the firing understood.

"Minute-guns! The British are coming!" shouted more than one hasty listener. "Every man to the forts! Our time's come!"

Many were the conjectures and exclamations, but the first men to reach the water front sent back word that not a British sail was in sight. More than that was sent, however, for a hasty messenger ran on to the Avery house and knocked at the door. It was opened instantly by Vine Avery himself.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The Noank!" was half whispered. "A large prize ship is with her. Don't say a word about it to your mother."

"Why not?" said Vine.

"Well!" replied the messenger. "It's this way. There are minute-guns at the fort and both of the flags of those ships are at half mast. There are boats pulling from 'em to the shore now. Come on!"

Vine stood still for a moment, hesitating. Then he turned and shouted back into the house: —

"Mother! The Noank! I'll go on down to the wharf. I'll let you know."

"Lyme! Lyme is home again!" she said. "Vine – "

She was darting forward without waiting for hood or wrap, but other ears besides Vine's had heard the messenger, and a firm hand was laid quietly upon Mrs. Avery's shoulder.

"My beloved friend," said Rachel Tarns, "hold thee still for a moment. I have a word for thee."

"What is it, Rachel?"

"Rachel Tarns," broke in the excited voice of Mrs. Ten Eyck, "did he say the Noank is here?"

"Yea," replied Rachel, "and I say to both of you women that she hath her flag at half mast, and that from her deck hath some one gone home indeed. It may be that many of those who sailed away in her are not here to be welcomed. Be you both strong and very courageous, therefore, for whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth. I will go along with you, and so will He. Be ye brave this day!"

So the strong, good, loving Quaker woman helped her friends, but hardly another word was spoken as they walked hurriedly along down the road toward the wharves.

"I do not see him!" murmured Mrs. Avery. "He would surely be coming to meet me."

"Anneke Ten Eyck," said Rachel, "be thou a glad woman! Look! Yonder comes thy son!"

"And not Lyme?" gasped Mrs. Avery.

"On crutches!" exclaimed Mrs. Ten Eyck, as she sprang forward. "I don't care! O Guert! Guert! Thank God!"

If anything else, any other word than "Mother!" was uttered during the next few moments, nobody heard it.

Mrs. Avery was trying to speak and could not, and it was Rachel Tarns who came to her assistance.

"Guert," she said, "thee brave boy! Thee is wounded? It is well. We are glad thou art here. Tell Mary Avery of her husband – at once! Is he with thee and her, or is he with his Father in Heaven?"

"Mother," whispered Guert, "I can't! You tell her. He was killed when we boarded the British privateer. I did all I could to save him. That's where I was cut down – "

Low as had been his whispering, there was no need for his mother to tell Mrs. Avery.

"Don't speak!" she said. "I'm going back to the house! He fell in battle!"

Around she turned, catching her breath in a great sob, and Rachel and Vine turned to go with her, putting their arms around her. Guert and his mother lingered as if it were needful for them to stand still and look into each other's faces. She glanced down, too, at his crutches, and he answered her silent question smilingly with: —

"That's getting well, mother."

"O Guert!"

"Ugh!" exclaimed a deep voice close behind them. "Up-na-tan say ole woman go home. Take boy. Ole chief mighty glad to bring boy back. – Whoo-oop!"

It was, after all, the triumphant warwhoop of the old red man that closed the record of the long cruise of the Noank.