 | CHAPTER V.
THE SCHOONER OF THE MIST. The cruiser of the mist |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
THE SCHOONER OF THE MIST.
For several minutes the gun-brig stood
on the same steady course running by the
bearings of the compass towards the spot
where the schooner had last been seen,
Not a syllable was spoken on her decks,
that the least noise from the schooner
might be caught by them. Ten minutes
—twenty minutes! the brig stood on, and
yet nothing was seen or heard of the
stranger. All around them in a dense
mass hung the fog, and in height overtopping
the top-gallant yard so that the lookouts
aloft were unable to make out anything
in the dense vapor in which the brig
was enshrounded.
“That fellow must have brought this
fog about us for his own benefit,” exclaimed
the captain of the brig with an air of
supreme vexation. We have been running
twenty minutes by the watch dead for
him, and as we go four knots and he was
not half a mile distant when last seen, we
have shot past him, and, no doubt, left him
a mile astern! Ready about! we will try
him on the other tack, and if we don't fall
foul of him, we shall, at least, make our
way out of this infernal fog bank!”
The brig was put about and lay her
course S. S. E., making from three to
four knots. In less than ten minutes she
emerged from the mist into the clear sky
and bright sunshine, with the blue sea
visible southward to the horizon, and
Block Island crouched in sullen majesty
a league to windward off the starboard
quarter.
Every eye was rapidly surveying the
sea around in expectation of discovering
the schooner. Nothing like a sail was
visible, but the minute bark of the fisherman
they had spoken two hours before
rocking lightly on the undulating waves,
and the three shallops which lay moored
under the head of the island. The fog
bank still hung in a cloud low upon its
crest.
“Mr. Waters,” said the captain of the
gun-brig as soon as he satisfied himself
that the schooner was not in sight, “this
fellow has fairly given us the go-by! He
is hiding still in the fog bank, and laughs
at us. But the game won't be long in his
four or five miles. The fog is steadily
advancing towards it. The schooner will
probably keep under it as long as he can
run safely, but the land will bring him up
in less than two hours; for the fog moves
from two to three miles an hour and will
in that time leave the sea clear and rise
over the land. The schooner will then
have to show herself, and the game will
then be up! My plan is to tack again and
stand in after the fog and be ready to attack
the schooner as soon as she gets from
under cover.”
“It will be an odd chase, sir!” answered
the lieutenant, laughing.
“Yes, to chase a fog bank! but we
must do it. It isn't half so bad as chasing
the Flying Dutchman. Can you judge
about where the schooner is likely to be
under that confounded mist?”
“I should think, sir, she ought to bear
about north by west.”
“So I was thinking. We will tack and
steer that course. Ready about!”
Once more the gun-brig tacked and
stood in towards the retreating line of fog,
which rose boldly like a wall of white vapor
eighty feet above the sea and extending
for miles east and west, parallel with
the Connecticut shore, and wholly concealing
it. It was slowly but steadily
moving landward before the wind.
Under shortened sail so as not to run
into the mist, the brig now stood on towards
it, keeping about a cable's length in
the clear atmosphere outside of it. A man
was placed in the fore-chains with the lead,
to report the depth of water as they advanced
shoreward, and a light messenger
boy was sent to the main truck to keep a
look out for the topmasts of the schooner,
while men were stationed upon the fore
and main-topgallant yards. Another man,
swung by a rope over the side, kept his
head close to the surface of the water to
report the least lifting of the fog. Every
means that skill and a determination to
come up with the enemy could devise was
resorted to, and all on board felt sanguine
of success.
The watch at length told the captain
that they had been running after the fog
forty-five minutes, and the log informed
him that the distance run was three miles.
The lead also gave only twelve fathoms of
depth of water.
“Twelve fathoms makes us within a
mile of the shore, sir,” said the lieutenant
looking at the chart.
“Yes, and I hear the boom of the breakers.
If that fellow is in that fog bank he
goes ashore, as true as fate. I will stand
on a few minutes longer.
“Quar—ter—less—sev—en!” sung the
leadsman in a clear tone. The brig had,
by degrees, forged ahead and got almost
within the fog. The captain quickly gave
orders to shorten sail.
“Breakers ahead!” cried at the same
moment the look-out from the bows.
“Helm-a-lee! jam her down hard!”
shouted the captain, springing himself to
the aid of the helmsman.
The brig came promptly up to the wind,
and just in time to leave under her lee counter
a large rock which formed the spur of
a ledge, over which the billows were breaking
with a combing spray.
“It takes a good pilot to follow a fog in
a stern chase ashore,” said the young commander
of the gun-brig as he looked over
the side and saw the perils he had escaped,
and which he was rapidly leaving astern.
“This is a hair's-breadth luck for us. The
schooner can't have kept on—if she has
she is a phantom. Heave her to!”
The officer of the deck promptly obeyed
the order, and the gun-brig having got an
offing, with her main-topsail aback, remained
stationary. They now watched
the fog which, slowly creeping to the land,
lifted as it reached it, and began to sail
over the rocks and trees skyward. The
whole line of beach with its ledges in front,
and the base of its banks and headlands,
lay outstretched before them in the cheerful
sunbeams. The commander of the
and with chargin east and west along
the now clearly visible main. The schooner
was nowhere visible.
“The fellow must have been sunk by
our broadside,” cried the former with an
oath of the most positive tone. “Aloft
there! do you see anything of this jack-o-lanthern?”
“Sail ho!” cried the shrill voice of the
little messenger boy, who was perched
like a monkey upon the main truck.
“Where away, my ltttle manikin?”
“Over the top o'the island, sir. I can
just see her main-topmast!”
“Bravo, my lad! you shall have a
middy's warrant if we catch her.”
The brig was now got under sail again,
and the wind being free abeam, she lay
her course for the northern point of Fisher's
Island, which was west of them about
two and a half miles.
“I see how it is, Mr. Waters: the
fellow, all the time when we thought he
was running in with the fog, was cutting
through it westward athwart hause; and
so under cover of it, has given us the slip.
Ho, fore-top-gallant yard there! do you
discover her sticks yet?”
“Not yet, sir!” called back the middy
stationed there.
“I see 'em still, sir,” answered the messenger
boy: “she is at anchor, I guess.”
“He is cool enough to come to anchor,
knowing our presence,” said Mr. Waters,
taking a survey of the profile of the head
of the island, to see if he could discern the
masts over-topping them. “We are too
low to see them from the deck. In half an
hour we shall double the head-land and
pounce upon her, and all I ask then is fair
play.”
In about twenty minutes the masts of
the vessel were made out from the deck,
not a mile distant over the island. Each
instant the gun-brig opened upon her position,
and her top-sail yards soon became
visible. The captain with his glass was
standing upon the heel of the brig's bow-sprit,
closely watching her as she began
to show herself. All at once he dashed
his hand against the spy-glass and uttered
a strong expression of intense disappointment.
“It is a fool's chase, gentlemen,” he
cried to his officers as he walked aft.
“This is an ordinary coasting schooner,
and is no more like our cruiser in the mist
than a Dutch milk-maid is like a belle!”
The gun-brig rapidly turned the north
end of the island, and what they had been
so sanguine was the chase, showed herself
to be a large topsail schooner with a
poop-deck, anchored near the land, and
loaded with crates of hay. The brig bore
down towards her to hail her.
“Ho, the schooner!”
“Aye, aye, captain!” responded the skipper,
jumping upon his traffrail.
“How long have you been laying here?”
“Since last night. My vessel started a
plank, and I put in here to ground her at
high-water, and repair it!”
“Have you seen anything of an armed
schooner?”
“No, I reckon not!”
“Have you seen any schooner in these
waters this morning?”
“No, only mine!”
“Very well,” returned the vexed captain,
as the brig passed on her course.
“Now, gentlemen,” he added, turning to
his officers, “can you tell me what can
have become of the chase? I must acknowledge
I am fairly done up!”
“It is possible, she may have been sunk
by our broad-side,” observed the first officer.
“Hardly probable. We should have
heard her men's cries, or seen spars afloat!
I don't know what to make of her. If I
hadn't heard her guns, and the whiz of her
shot over our heads, I should be inclined
to believe that my eyes had deceived me,
and I was cheated by an illusion!”
“It is a very strange affair, sir!”
“It is possible, sir,” said the junior lieutenant,
“she may have steered east instead
of west, and so kept in the fog till she got
too far for us to see her!”
“That is what I think, gentlemen. But
as I know of no break in the coast eastward,
into which she could have run after
the fog left her, and as she could not have
got more than four or five miles distant, I
am surprised we did not see her!”
“There is an inlet, sir, about five miles
east of where we like to have struck,” said
the boatswain, who was aft performing
some duty of his station, touching his hat
as he spoke.
“Ah, do you know this?”
“Yes, sir. I was born not ten miles from
where we are now, sir, and know all the
coast as well as I do the seams in my
hand!”
“Look to the chart, Mr. Waters!”
The chart was examined, and a narrow
inlet discovered laid down upon it, running
two or three miles into the land.
“Is this deep enough, boatswain, for a
vessel of the schooner's size?”
“Yes, sir, if she don't draw more than
seven feet!”
“How far up is there this depth of
water?”
“About a mile and a quarter, sir, at flood
tide.”
“Then there we shall find the schooner,”
said the captain with joy. “Ready
about! If we tack this way much longer,
the brig will learn to waltz without a
French master!”
The gun-brig once more steered eastwardly.
The wind was baffling and veering
from the south to S. S. W.; but gave
the brig about four and a half knots progress.
Every thing was prepared for a
conflict, and all was unusual excitement
on board, from the gallant commander
down to the lob-lolly boy; for the peculiar
circumstances of the chase had wetted
curiosity, and inspired one and all with a
desire to fall in with and capture the trickish
schooner.
The brig, after an hour's sailing along
the coast, and within a mile of it, opened
the mouth of the inlet which the boatswain
pointed out. As the tide was ebbing, the
captain felt very anxious to reach the inlet
while there was water enough; for he
naturally supposed the schooner, if she
had taken shelter there, had run up some
distance, to be out of reach of his guns.
His vexation, therefore, was very great
when he found on arriving off the mouth
of the passage, that the tide was too low
to admit his vessel.
“We will lay off here, however, and
send a boat up to look for the schooner,”
he said, giving orders to man the first
cutter.
The inlet was a creek about a third of a
mile wide at the mouth, and fenced nearly
across with fishing barriers of stakes interwoven,
so that there was a very narrow
passage left for a vessel. Through this
the boat pulled up the stream. It contained
the commander of the gun-brig, a midshipman,
and eight oarsmen only. They
pulled up about half a mile, when turning
a sharp point, they discovered the schooner
quietly moored across the stream. She
was a very long and beautiful vessel, with
an air singularly bold and warlike. She
was in all points, in perfect order, and
the very model of a clipper man-of-war-schooner.
The captain of the brig, concealed
by the thick foliage that overhung
his boat, surveyed her for a few moments
with a seaman's eye, and with increased
admiration.
“She is a perfect beauty,” he at length
exclaimed, “and I will have her before
night, or she shall have me!”
He then noiselessly retraced his course
down the creek, and after two hour's absence,
once more reached his own deek.
It was now past two o'clock. The tide
was still ebbing, and it would be near ten
at night before the flood would enable the
brig to go up the creek. This time was
passed in sounding the channel, and making
preparations for the attack. In the
meanwhile there were apparent no signs
that the schooner was aware of the brig's
vicinity; although she could be plainly
seen from the heights that overhung the
creek, by any one who should ascend
them.
About an hour before sun-set, a sail
was discovered from the mast-head, in the
western board. As she approached, she
was made out to be a large ship. She
even came near enough for the captain of
the gun-brig to see that she was a sloop--of-war,
with the American colors flying.
A closer scrutiny enabled him to make
her out as the “Franklin,” which had
been stationed in the port of New York.
“The schooner is now fairly trapped,”
he said, as he made this discovery. “Foster,
of the Franklin, has got news of the
plunder of the barque as well as ourselves,
and has run down through the Sound in
search of her. I had quite as lief that I
had the taking of the bueanier alone; but
let Foster have a share in the affair. Between
us this fog-ship shan't escape us!”
“We are likely to have a fog to-night,
sir, by the thick haze to the east,” said Mr.
Waters.
“Yes, no doubt, for they prevail at this
season, and it would be rare to have a
night without one. But we have the fellow
blockaded so snugly that a fog can't
help him now. Get up the signals, sir.
Let us tell our friend what game we have
here!”
The brig set her signals, which were
answered by the sloop of war, which was
now within three and a half miles. The
brig then telegraphed the intelligence of
“the enemy in shore,” when the corvette,
which heretofore was steering south east,
altered her course, and bore away for the
gun-brig. The sun was just sinking
under the horizon, in a skyey sea of gold,
when the ship came within speaking distance,
under the stern of the brig of war.
“Have you seen this pirating privateer?”
hailed her commander through his trumpet.
“Aye, aye; and have him fairly caught.
I had news of his being in these waters
three days since, and immediately put to
sea after him. I fell in with him this
morning, but he escaped me in a fog, and
run into this creek, where he is moored
half a mile up it. Are you cruising after
him also?”
“Yes. News of his boarding and plundering
a barque reached me from Newport
day before yesterday, and I immediately
slipped cable and run down the
Sound. I am glad you have got him
where he can be taken care of. But
come aboard, and let us talk over the
matter.”
The captain of the brig pulled alongside
of the ship, and being warmly met by
his friend, they returned to his cabin,
where over certain choice wines the former
related the particulars of the chase.
It was finally decided, as soon as the
tide served, that the brig, seconded by the
sloop's boats, should sail up the creek, lay
along side of the schooner, and either capture
her or sink her.
The sun had not been half an hour set,
leaving a sparkling sky without a cloud
when the wind chopped round to the east
and brought rapidly in from the sea a
dense column of fog which had been long
gathering there. The land, the stars, the
water were enveloped. The two vessels
became invisible to one another. The
mist seemed each moment to grow heavier,
and fell like tropical dews upon the deck,
wetting them as if a fine rain was falling.
The two captains fearing that the schooner
would avail herself of this her favorite
covert to get to sea, resolved not to wait
for the tide, but take the sloop in close to
the mouth of the creek so as to guard it,
and ascend the inlet in both vessels boats.
This was done, and the boats, seven in
all, containing one hundred and thirty
men, pulled to the point where the schooner
was seen moored. They passed the
place, rowed a mile beyond till the water
shoaled to a fathom, and after a close
search of the mid-channel and both banks,
returned to their vessels, as satisfied as
they were vexed and confounded, that the
schooner had in some way managed completely
to effect her escape out of the river
under the cover of the mist!
| CHAPTER V.
THE SCHOONER OF THE MIST. The cruiser of the mist | |