The pilot a tale of the sea |
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| 7. | CHAPTER VII. |
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 | CHAPTER VII. The pilot |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
“Sempronius, speak.”
Cato.
The arrangements for the consultation were
brief and simple. The veteran commander of
the frigate received his officers with punctilious
respect, and pointing to the chairs that were
placed around the table, which was a fixture in the
centre of his cabin, he silently seated himself, and
his example was followed by all, without further
ceremony. In taking their stations, however, a
quiet, but rigid observance was paid to the rights
of seniority and rank. On the right of the captain
was placed Griffith, as next in authority;
and opposite to him, was seated the commander
of the schooner. The officer of marines,
who was included in the number, held the next
situation in point of precedence, the same order
being observed to the bottom of the table, which
was occupied by a hard-featured, square-built,
athletic man, who held the office of sailing-master.
When order was restored, after the short interruption
of taking their places, the officer who had
required the advice of his inferiors, opened the
business on which he demanded their opinions.
“My instructions direct me, gentlemen,” he
said, “after making the coast of England, to run
the land down—”
The hand of Griffith was elevated respectfully
for silence, and the veteran paused, with a look
that inquired the reason of his interruption.
“We are not alone,” said the lieutenant, glancing
his eye towards the part of the cabin where
the pilot stood, leaning on one of the guns, in an
attitude of easy indulgence.
The stranger moved not at this direct hint;
neither did his eye change from its close survey of
a chart that lay near him on the deck. The captain
dropped his voice to tones of cautious respect,
as he replied—
“'Tis only Mr. Gray. His services will be
necessary on the occasion, and, therefore, nothing
need be concealed from him.”
Glances of surprise were exchanged among the
young men, but Griffith bowing his silent acquiescence
in the decision of his superior, the latter
proceeded—
“I was ordered to watch for certain signals
from the headlands that we made, and was furnished
with the best of charts, and such directions
as enabled us to stand into the bay we entered
last night. We have now obtained a pilot, and
one who has proved himself a skilful man; such
a one, gentlemen, as no officer need hesitate to
rely on, in any emergency, either on account of
his integrity or his knowledge.”
The veteran paused, and turned his looks on
the countenances of the listeners, as if to collect
their sentiments on this important point. Receiving
no other reply than the one conveyed
by the silent inclinations of the heads of his
hearers, the commander resumed his explanations,
referring to an open paper in his hand—
“It is known to you all, gentlemen, that the
unfortunate question of retaliation has been much
agitated between the two governments, our own
certain political purposes, it has become an object
of solicitude with our commissioners in Paris,
to obtain a few individuals of character from the
enemy, who may be held as a check on their proceedings,
at the same time it brings the evils of
war, from our own shores, home to those who have
caused it. An opportunity now offers to put this
plan in execution, and I have collected you, in
order to consult on the means.”
A profound silence succeeded this unexpected
communication of the object of their cruise.
After a short pause, their captain added, addressing
himself to the sailing-master—
“What course would you advise me to pursue,
Mr. Boltrope?”
The weather-beaten seaman who was thus
called on to break through the difficulties of a
knotty point, with his opinion, laid one of his
short, bony hands on the table, and began to
twirl an inkstand with great industry, while with
the other he conveyed a pen to his mouth, which
was apparently masticated with all the relish that
he could possibly have felt had it been a leaf from
the famous Virginian weed. But perceiving that
he was expected to answer, after looking first to
his right hand, and then to his left, he spoke as
follows, in a hoarse, thick voice, in which the fogs
of the ocean seemed to have united with sea-damps
and colds, to destroy every thing like
melody—
“If this matter is ordered, it is to be done, I
suppose,” he said; “for the old rule runs, `obey
orders, if you break owners;' though the
maxim, which says, `one hand for the owner, and
t'other for yourself,' is quite as good, and has
saved many a hearty fellow from a fall that
would have balanced the purser's books. Not
any other man's books, but that when a man is
dead, his account must be closed, or there will be
a false muster. Well, if the thing is to be done,
the next question is, how is it to be done? There
is many a man that knows there is too much canvass
on a ship, who can't tell how to shorten sail.
Well, then, if the thing is really to be done, we must
either land a gang to seize them, or we must show
false lights, and sham colours, to lead them off to
the ship. As for landing, Captain Munson, I can
only speak for one man, and that is myself, which
is to say, that if you run the ship with her jibboom
into the king of England's parlour windows,
why, I'm consenting, nor do I care how
much of his crockery is cracked in so doing;
but as to putting the print of my foot on one of
his sandy beaches, if I do, that is always speaking
for only one man, and saving your presence,
may I hope to be d—d.”
The young men smiled as the tough old seaman
uttered his sentiments so frankly, rising with
his subject, to that which with him was the
climax of all discussion; but his commander,
who was but a more improved scholar from the
same rough school, appeared to understand his
arguments entirely, and without altering a muscle
of his rigid countenance, he required the opinion
of the junior lieutenant.
The young man spoke firmly, but modestly,
though the amount of what he said was not much
more distinct than that uttered by the master, and
was very much to the same purpose, with the exception,
that he appeared to entertain no personal
reluctance to trusting himself on dry ground.
The opinions of the others grew gradually
more explicit and clear, as they ascended in the
scale of rank, until it came to the turn of the
exhibition of professional pride about the
soldier, in delivering his sentiments on a subject
that embraced a good deal more of his peculiar
sort of duty than ordinarily occurred in the usual
operations of the frigate.
“It appears to me, sir, that the success of this
expedition depends altogether upon the manner
in which it is conducted.” After this lucid
opening, the soldier hesitated a moment, as if to
collect his ideas for a charge that should look
down all opposition, and proceeded. “The
landing, of course, will be effected on a fair
beach, under cover of the frigate's guns, and
could it be possibly done, the schooner should
be anchored in such a manner as to throw
in a flanking fire on the point of debarkation.
The arrangements for the order of march
must a good deal depend on the distance to
go over; though I should think, sir, an advanced
party of seamen, to act as pioneers for
the column of marines, should be pushed a short
distance in front, while the baggage and baggageguard
might rest upon the frigate, until the enemy
was driven into the interior, when it could advance
without danger. There should be flankguards,
under the orders of two of the oldest midshipmen;
and a light corps might be formed of
the top-men, to co-operate with the marines. Of
course, sir, Mr. Griffith will lead, in person, the
musket-men and boarders, armed with their long
pikes, whom I presume he will hold in reserve, as
I trust my military claims and experience entitle
me to the command of the main body.”
“Well done, field marshal!” cried Barnstable,
with a glee that seldom regarded time or place;
“you should never let salt-water mould your buttons,
but in Washington's camp, ay! and in
in future. Why, sir, do you think we are
about to invade England?”
“I know that every military movement should
be executed with precision, Captain Barnstable,”
returned the marine. “I am too much accustomed
to hear the sneers of the sea-officers, to
regard what I know proceeds from ignorance.
If Captain Munson is disposed to employ me and
my command in this expedition, I trust he will
discover that marines are good for something
more than to mount guard or pay salutes.”
Then, turning haughtily from his antagonist, he
continued to address himself to their common superior,
as if disdaining further intercourse with
one who, from the nature of the case, must be
unable to comprehend the force of what he said.
“It will be prudent, Captain Munson, to send
out a party to reconnoitre, before we march; and
as it may be necessary to defend ourselves, in case
of a repulse, I would beg leave to recommend
that a corps be provided with entrenching tools,
to accompany the expedition. They would be
extremely useful, sir, in assisting to throw up
field-works; though, I doubt not, tools might be
found in abundance in this country, and labourers
impressed for the service, on an emergency.—”
This was too much for the risibility of Barnstable,
who broke forth in a burst of scornful
laughter, which no one saw proper to interrupt;
though Griffith, on turning his head, to conceal
the smile that was gathering on his own face,
perceived the fierce glance which the pilot threw
at the merry seaman, and wondered at its significance
and impatience. When Captain Munson
thought that the mirth of the lieutenant was concluded,
he mildly desired his reasons for amusing
marine.
“'Tis a chart for a campaign!” cried Barnstable,
“and should be sent off express to Congress,
before the Frenchmen are brought into the field!”
“Have you any better plan to propose, Mr.
Barnstable?” inquired the patient commander.
“Better! ay, one that will take no time, and
cause no trouble, to execute it,” cried the other;
“'tis a seaman's job, sir, and must be done with
a seaman's means.”
“Pardon me, Captain Barnstable,” interrupted
the marine, whose jocular vein was entirely absorbed
in his military pride; “if there be service
to be done on shore, I claim it as my right
to be employed.”
“Claim what you will, soldier, but how will
you carry on the war, with a parcel of fellows
who don't know one end of a boat from the
other,” returned the reckless sailor. “Do you
think, that a barge or a cutter is to be beached
in the same manner you ground firelock, by word
of command? No, no, Captain Manual—I honour
your courage, for I have seen it tried, but
d—e if—”
“You forget we wait for your project, Mr.
Barnstable,” said the veteran.
“I crave your patience, sir; but no project is
necessary. Point out the bearings and distance
of the place where the men you want are to be
found, and I will take the heel of the gale, and
run into the land, always speaking for good
water and no rocks. Mr. Pilot, you will accompany
me, for you carry as true a map of
the bottom of these seas, in your head, as ever
was made of dry ground. I will look out for
good anchorage, or, if the wind should blow off
shore, let the schooner stand off and on, till we
would land, out of my whale-boat, with long Tom
and a boat's crew, and finding out the place you
will describe, we shall go up, and take the men
you want, and bring them aboard. It's all plain-sailing;
though, as it is a well-peopled country,
it may be necessary to do our shore work in the
dark.”
“Mr. Griffith, we only wait for your sentiments,”
proceeded the captain, “when, by comparing
opinions, we may decide on the most
prudent course.”
The first lieutenant had been much absorbed
in thought, during the discussion of the subject,
and might have been, on that account, better prepared
to give his opinion with effect. Pointing
to the man who yet stood behind him, leaning on
a gun, he commenced by asking—
“Is it your intention that man shall accompany
the party?”
“It is.”
“And from him you expect the necessary information,
sir, to guide our movements?”
“You are altogether right.”
“If, sir, he has but a moiety of the skill on the
land that he possesses on the water, I will answer
for his success,” returned the lieutenant, bowing
slightly to the stranger, who recived the compliment
by a cold inclination of his head. “I must
desire the indulgence of both Mr. Barnstable and
Captain Manual,” he continued, “and claim the
command as of right belonging to my rank.”
“It belongs naturally to the schooner,” exclaimed
the impatient Barnstable.
“There may be enough for us all to do,” said
Griffith, elevating a finger to the other, in a manner,
and with an impressive look, that was instantly
comprehended. “I neither agree wholly
'Tis said, that since our appearance on the coast,
the dwellings of many of the gentry are guarded
by small detachments of soldiers from the neighbouring
towns.”
“Who says it?” asked the pilot, advancing
among them, with a suddenness that caused a
general silence.
“I say it, sir,” returned the lieutenant, when
the momentary surprise had passed away.
“Can you vouch for it?”
“I can.”
“Name a house, or an individual, that is thus
protected.”
Griffith gazed at the man who thus forgot himself
in the midst of a consultation like the present,
and yielding to his native pride, hesitated to
reply. But mindful of the declarations of his
captain, and the recent services of the pilot, he
at length said, with a little embarrassment of
manner—
“I know it to be the fact, in the dwelling of a
Colonel Howard, who resides but a few leagues
to the north of us.”
The stranger started at the name, and then
raising his eye keenly to the face of the young
man, appeared to study his thoughts in his varying
countenance. But the action, and the pause
that followed, were of short continuance. His
lip slightly curled, whether in scorn or with a
concealed smile, would have been difficult to say,
so closely did it resemble both, and as he
dropped quietly back to his place at the gun, he
said—
“'Tis more than probable you are right, sir;
and if I might presume to advise Captain Munson,
it would be to lay great weight on your
opinion.”
Griffith turned, to see if he could comprehend
more meaning in the manner of the stranger than
his words expressed, but his face was again shaded
by his hand, and his eyes were once more
fixed on the chart with the same vacant abstraction
as before.
“I have said, sir, that I agree wholly neither
with Mr. Barnstable nor Captain Manual,” continued
the lieutenant, after a short pause. “The
command of this party is mine, as the senior officer,
and I must beg leave to claim it. I certainly
do not think the preparation that Captain Manual
advises necessary; neither would I undertake
the duty with as little caution as Mr. Barnstable
proposes. If there are soldiers to be encountered,
we should have soldiers to oppose to them;
but as it must be sudden boat-work, and regular
evolutions must give place to a seaman's bustle,
a sea-officer should command. Is my request
granted, Captain Munson?”
The veteran replied, without hesitation—
“It is, sir; it was my intention to offer you
the service, and I rejoice to see you accept it so
cheerfully.”
Griffith with difficulty concealed the satisfaction
with which he listened to his commander, and
a radiant smile illumined his pale features, when
he observed—
“With me, then, sir, let the responsibility rest.
I request that Captain Manual, with twenty men,
may be put under my orders, if that gentleman
does not dislike the duty.” The marine
bowed, and cast a glance of triumph at Barnstable.
“I will take my own cutter, with her
tried crew, go on board the schooner, and when
the wind lulls, we will run in to the land, and
then be governed by circumstances.”
The commander of the schooner threw back
in his joyous manner—
“'Tis a good plan, and done like a seaman,
Mr. Griffith. Ay, ay, let the schooner be employed,
and if it be necessary, you shall see her
anchored in one of their duck-ponds, with her
broadside to bear on the parlour-windows of the
best house in the island! But twenty marines!
they will cause a jam in my little craft.”
“Not a man less than twenty would be prudent,”
returned Griffith. “More service may
offer than that we seek.”
Barnstable well understood his allusion, but
still he replied—
“Make it seamen, and I will give you room
for thirty. But these soldiers never know how to
stow away their arms and legs, unless at a drill.
One will take the room of two sailors; they
swing their hammocks athwart-ships, heads to
leeward, and then turn-out wrong end uppermost
at the call. Why, damn it, sir, the chalk and
rotten-stone of twenty soldiers will chock my
hatches!”
“Give me the launch, Captain Munson!” exclaimed
the indignant marine, “and we will follow
Mr. Griffith in an open boat, rather than put
Captain Barnstable to so much inconvenience.”
“No, no, Manual,” cried the other, extending
his muscular arm across the table, with an open
palm, to the soldier; “you would all become so
many Jonahs in uniform, and I doubt whether
the fish could digest your cartridge-boxes and
bayonet-belts. You shall go with me, and learn,
with your own eyes, whether we keep the cat's-watch
aboard the Ariel, that you joke about.”
The laugh was general, at the expense of the
soldier, if we except the pilot and the commander
of the frigate. The former was a silent, and apparently
interested listener to the discourse; and there
were moments when he bent his looks on the
speakers, as if he sought more in their characters
than was exhibited by the gay trifling of the
moment. Captain Munson seldom allowed a
muscle of his wrinkled features to disturb their
repose; and if he had not the real dignity to repress
the untimely mirth of his officers, he had
too much good nature to wish to disturb their
harmless enjoyments. He expressed himself satisfied
with the proposed arrangements, and
beckoned to his steward, to place before them the
usual beverage, with which all their consultations
concluded.
The sailing-master appeared to think that the
same order was to be observed in their potations
as in council, and helping himself to an allowance
which retained its hue even in its diluted
state, he first raised it to the light, and then observed—
“This ship's-water is nearly the colour of rum
of itself; if it only had its flavour, what a set of
hearty dogs we should be. Mr. Griffith, I find
you are willing to haul your land-tacks aboard.
Well, it's natural for youth to love the earth; but
there is one man, and he is sailing-master of this
ship, who saw land enough, last night, to last
him a twelve-month. But if you will go, here's
a good land-fall and a better offing to you.
Captain Munson, my respects to you. I say, sir,
if we should keep the ship more to the south'ard,
it's my opinion, and that's but one man's, we
should fall in with some of the enemy's homewardbound
West-Indiamen, and find wherewithal to
keep the life in us when we see fit to go ashore
ourselves.”
As the tough old sailor made frequent applications
and kept a firm hold of the decanter with the
other, during this speech, his companions were
compelled to listen to his eloquence, or depart
with their thirst unassuaged. Barnstable, however,
quite coolly dispossessed the tar of the bottle,
and mixing for himself a more equal potation,
observed, in the act—
“That is the most remarkable glass of grog
you have, Boltrope, that I ever sailed with; it
draws as little water as the Ariel, and is as hard
to find the bottom. If your spirit-room enjoys
the same sort of engine to replenish it, when you
pump out your rum, Congress will sail this frigate
cheaply.”
The other officers helped themselves with still
greater moderation, Griffith barely moistening
his lips, and the pilot rejecting the offered glass
altogether. Captain Munson continued standing,
and his officers, perceiving that their presence
was no longer necessary, bowed, and took their
leave. As Griffith was retiring last, he felt a
hand laid lightly on his shoulder, and turning,
perceived that he was detained by the pilot.
“Mr. Griffith,” he said, when they were quite
alone with the commander of the frigate, “the
occurrences of the last night should teach us
confidence in each other; without it, we go on a
dangerous and fruitless errand.”
“Is the hazard equal?” returned the youth.
“I am known to all to be the man I seem—am
in the service of my country—belong to a family,
and enjoy a name, that is a pledge for my loyalty
to the cause of America—and yet I trust myself
on hostile ground, in the midst of enemies, with a
weak arm, and under circumstances where
treachery would prove my ruin. Who and what
is the man who thus enjoys your confidence, Captain
than for the gallant men who will fearlessly follow
wherever I lead.”
A shade of dark displeasure crossed the features
of the stranger, at one part of this speech,
and at its close he sunk into deep thought. The
commander, however, replied—
“There is a show of reason in your question,
Mr. Griffith—and yet you are not the man to be
told that implicit obedience is what I have a right
to expect. I have not your pretensions, sir, by
birth or education, and yet Congress have not
seen proper to overlook my years and services.
I command this frigate—”
“Say no more,” interrupted the pilot. “There
is reason in his doubts, and they shall be appeased.
I like the proud and fearless eye of the
young man, and while he fears a gibbet from
my hands, I will show him how to repose a noble
confidence. Read this, sir, and tell me if you
distrust me now?”
While the stranger spoke, he thrust his hand into
the bosom of his dress, and drew forth a parchment,
decorated with ribbands and bearing a massive
seal, which he opened, and laid on the table
before the youth. As he pointed with his finger,
impressively, to different parts of the writing, his
eye kindled with a look of unusual fire, and there
was a faint tinge discernible on his pallid features,
when he spoke.
“See!” he said. “Royalty itself does not
hesitate to bear witness in my favour, and that is
not a name to occasion dread to an American.”
Griffith gazed with wonder at the fair signature
of the unfortunate Louis, which graced the bottom
of the parchment; but when his eye obeyed
the signal of the stranger, and rested on the body
of the instrument, he started back from the table,
while a glow of fiery courage flitted across his
countenance—
“Lead on! I'll follow you to death!”
A smile of gratified exultation struggled around
the lips of the stranger, who took the arm of the
young man, and led him into a state-room, leaving
the commander of the frigate, standing in his
unmoved and quiet manner, a spectator of, but
hardly an actor in the scene.
| CHAPTER VII. The pilot | |