University of Virginia Library

30. CHAPTER XXX.
Robin Day distinguishes himself at the attack on Havre-de-Grace,
and meets with a misfortune.

I was roused from my sleep at last by my new
acquaintance and late captain, Tom Gunner, who
undoubtedly held some petty office on board the
ship, but what it was I never knew; and, indeed I
am equally unaware what was the true rank and
title of my friend the lieutenant, though I suspect
he was nothing more than a midshipman. And
here I may as well confess a greater ignorance of
all naval and nautical matters than would seem becoming
in one who drew his first breath on the sea,
spent his childhood in an oyster-boat, fought—or
served—six weeks as a volunteer in the British
Navy, and smelt powder in—but I must not anticipate
my story. The truth is, as I suspect, my early
experience gave me a disgust to the sea and its affairs;
and, although I have since tried to dive a
little into their mysteries, it was all labour lost, and
I find myself still as ignorant as ever. This will
explain, and, I hope, excuse, the errors into which
I may fall, in treating of these passages and branches
of my existence.

I was waked by Tom Gunner, who told me to
“get up and be d—d,” and intimated we were going
to attack a town (it was the town of Havre de Grace,

at the head of the Chesapeake,) and that I was to
have the honour of fighting in a barge under the
command of my lieutenant. I got up, accordingly,
and going upon deck, which was already swarming
with men, was struck with the novelty of the spectacle
that awaited me. It was not yet day, although
the dawn was not far off, so that objects were but
dimly discernible. I perceived, first, that we were
under sail, but making way very slowly, there being
scarcely any wind; and, next, that we had, during
the time I was asleep, exchanged a river of half a
mile wide for one of at least ten times the magnitude,
with bold shores looming duskily up in the
distance; and, finally, that our fleet had grown to
thrice the number of vessels, some of which, following
at a distance behind, were large ships.

As we proceeded onwards, the day began to
break, and I saw, some miles off, the indications of
a town or village; which having approached within
a mile or two, the fleet came to anchor, and orders
were given to man the boats. I descended, with a
heart beating betwixt fear and hope, into the barge
that already lay beside the Jumping Jenny, and
which now received the same crew of heroes, with
whom I had so unluckily distinguished myself the
preceding day.

Our commander having also entered the boat, we
lay upon our oars for a few moments waiting the
signal to proceed. It was given at last by a sudden
discharge of great guns from the ships of war,
the thunder of which, with the patterings of the iron
balls about their ears, were, I believe, the first intimation
the sleeping villagers had of the presence of
the enemy. The horrible uproar of so many cannons
shot off nigh at hand, and the dreadful sheets
of flame bursting from the black sides of the ships,

threw me into a great panic, which was not much
diminished when our commander gave the word to
proceed against the village;—“Give way, my hearties,”
he cried; “we shall have something better to
pick, in yon doghole, than ducks and chickens!”

The men responded with loud cheers, which were
now heard proceeding from all quarters; for a great
many barges like our own were on the water; and
the rowers addressing themselves to their oars, we
were soon rapidly approaching the devoted town.

But as we drew nigh, we noticed certain appearances,
which convinced us that the villagers, however
astounded at the salute we had given them,
were not inclined to receive their visitors, without
returning the compliments of the morning. And,
first, we perceived a great body of them running
hastily down to the beach before the town, where
stood three or four strange looking objects; which,
at that distance and in the uncertain light of the
morning, I could not make out: nor, I presume
should I have had the least idea of their character, had
not Tom Gunner suddenly ripped out an oath, and
declared “the bloody villains,” (meaning the towns-people,)
“had cannon, and were going to give us a
salvo.”

And, true enough, the words were scarce out of
his mouth, when bang went a piece, and a cannon
ball striking the river hard by our boat, which was
one of the headmost, dashed a shower of water in
my face, by which I was greatly frightened, thinking
at first it was my life's blood all let loose. This
salute, as it did, I believe, no damage to any in the
fleet of boats, only served the purpose of inflaming
the martial ardour of all. The officers d—d their
souls, the men cheered, and rowed onwards with
redoubled vigour; so that, in a few moments, we

reached the water's edge and sprang ashore. Previous
to this, however, we received several other
discharges; the wonder of which was that they were
all fired by a single man; who, suddenly deserted
by his townsman, that had been scared off by the
noise of their own gun, stuck valiantly to the pieces,
fired them off at us, one after the other, and was
even seen, without any assistance, to recharge and
refire them; until our sudden jumping ashore, and a
volley of small arms let fly at him, compelled him to
beat a retreat.

But even then, his flight was conducted in most
heroic order, facing his enemies all the while, with
a musket, which he fired; then loaded, as he retreated,
and fired again. “Charge upon the rascal—run
him down,” quoth the lieutenant; who, having had
the honour first to reach the shore, paused a moment
to form his men, which he found no easy task in the
face of so determined a foe. At that moment, I—
still in mortal affright, yet thinking of nothing but
escape—took to my heels, and ran up the street, along
which the intrepid defender of the town was backing
at his leisure, having no desire so great as to reach
him and put his heroic defence betwixt me and the
invaders. As I had had a musket put into my hands,
which I still carried, holding on to it rather from instinct
than inclination, and unfortunately forgot in
my hurry to inform him of my peaceable intentions,
it is not extraordinary, when I approached him,
which, running at a great rate, I soon did, that his
reception of me proved any thing but friendly. In
fact, I had no sooner come within reach of his arm,
than, clubbing his musket, and exclaiming, with a
strongly Irish accent, “Surrender, ye villian;” which
I should have been very happy to do, had he let me,
he fetched me a terrible blow over the head, by

which I was felled to the ground, and left insensible.

And so ended, for that day, my hopes of flight,
as well as my share in the martial events that followed;
of which I have no further knowledge (and that
acquired afterwards from others,) than that the town
was taken, plundered, set in flames, and then, in due
course of time abandoned by the magnanimous victors.