 | CHAPTER VII. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
The conversation which had been
carried on between the young officer
and the chained seaman, had been broken
off by the approach of one of the
lieutenants, who was showing the ship
to the commissioner, and also the men
at their suppers. The two young men
had not been overheard, and the obscurity
of the hour, and the part of the
deck, where Martin was chained to a
gun-carriage, shielded them from observation
as they talked; but when the
lieutenant appeared, preceded by a
messenger-boy bearing a lantern, the
youthful midshipman who interested
himself so deeply in favor of the young
colonist left him, adding to his last
words, and speaking in a stern tone,
“You will not escape so easily the
next time, my lad! If I had been
captain, I would have given you thirty-nine
with the boatswain's cat.”
“Ah, Althorp, who is it you are verating
in that style, hey?” asked the
lieutenant, coming up.
“The coxswain of the captain's gig,
sir, who wanted to escape ashore and is
now doing penance in irons.”
“Who is he? What is he?” asked
the commissioner who, having rarely
visited a ship-of-war, was full of curiosity
to see and know everything that
was going on; and for this purpose had
asked to be shown about the decks.
“A young colonist seaman, sir,” answered
the lieutenant, in an indifferent
tone; “it seems he wanted his liberty
before we chose to give it to him, and
he is now ironed by way of contrast.”
“Why, he seems to bear himself
bravely,” remarked the commissioner,
looking closely through his glasses at
the young man, as he stood folding his
chains up in his arms and silently and
scornfully regarding him, for he felt indignant
at being gazed upon, as if he
had been a wild beast.
“Yes, these colonists are the most
intractable of all our sailors. It is as
difficult to tame them into submission
as one of their own Indian chiefs.—
They are good sailors, and as brave as
lions in battle; but there is no doing
anything with them without the severest
discipline.”
“They have some of the spirit of the
people ashore,” answered the commissioner.
“He is a fine looking young
man; and it is a pity,” he added, addressing
the chained sailor, “that you
cannot serve your king and country
more submissively.”
“My country is served best by my
resistance,” answered Martin, proudly.
“I am a free-born American, and no
British slave to kiss the hand that smites
me. Yet they would have made me a
slave, and stole me from my childhood's
home! And dost thou, grey haired
old man, dost thou ask me to be more
submissive?”
“Bless me! what a spirit!” exclaimed
the commissioner; “let us pass on,
sir, for there is mischief in his eye.—
He might make a spring upon one and
do damage with those heavy chains.”
“Go, old man, I will not harm thee,
though thou hast cause for fear; for if
I guess rightly, thou art a sycophant to
the crown and a traitor to thy country.”
“Silence!” cried the lieutenant,
sternly. “Thou givest too much license
to thy speech. I will teach thee
that the tongue may be chained as well
as the limbs. “He is an extraordinary
young man,” added the officer, as he
continued on with Mr. Riverton; “he
is intelligent, well-read, skilful in all
his duties beyond other seamen, and
full of courage. Every man likes him,
save some few who envy him. It is a
pity to have to put him in irons. But
he is the coxswain of the captain's gig,
and it was his intention to have escaped
when she reached the town; but his
purpose was discovered in time; when
he sprang overboard and would have
swam ashore. He was picked up,
brought on board and ironed here as
you have just seen him. As soon as
we leave the port we shall let him have
his liberty again; but it would be unsafe
while in this anchorage, for I learn
that he was impressed from this town
some years ago in the Thetis frigate.”
“Ah, I remember when she was
here; I had the honor of dining on
board of her; and also of attending a
brilliant ball given by Captain Montague.
She pressed several of the
some of the poor towns-folk's younger
ones. The king is very fortunate in
having such extensive colonies to supply
his navy from.”
“Yes; they are the best sailors, as I
have said, that we have, after we get
them broke in.”
“Sir, the lieutenant of the Gaspee is
just come on board,” said the captain's
liveried servant to Mr. Riverton, “and
Captain Petty would be happy to see
you in his cabin.”
“True, I will go to him at once.—
Brave doings we shall have to-night,
Mister Lieutenant,” said the commissioner,
rubbing his hands together as he
always did when very much pleased
with matters and things.
“The Gaspee I hear is going down
after a brig that put back after coming
nearly up to town.”
“Yes, and we shall seize her—not
the least doubt of it. I shall feel myself
honored in being so lucky as to
make the first seizure under the law.”
“Is there any probability, sir?” asked
the lieutenant, as they mounted the
steps to the upper-deck and walked aft
along the gun deck. “Is there the
least probability that the citizens will
assist the merchants in opposing the duties?”
“The towns' people are very much
excited at the sight of the sloop-of-war
here, but its presence will keep down
their courage. But I should really
have trembled for the consequences to
myself if I had gone on board a vessel
to levy the duties, without such support
as I now have in the presence of an
armed vessel.”
“Well, we shall be ready for any opposition
they may choose to show,” answered
the officer, as they reached the
door which led into the captain's cab
in, where he bowed and took his leave.
The commissioner was ushered in by
the footman, where he found in conversation
with Captain Petty, Lieutenant
Arling of the Gaspee.
This gentleman was an exceedingly
handsome and accomplished young English
officer, richly dressed, and evidently
displaying the man of fashion so
far as it could be done in the uniform of
the navy. He was tall and nobly formed,
with a fine, piercing eye of dark
grey, the expression of which indicated
a fiery and daring spirit. His mouth,
which was remarkably well shaped,
would have been the best feature in a
face where all was symmetry and manly
beauty, but for a slight muscular
curve at the corners, in which was
stamped as plainly as if written, the
evil passions of cruelty and sensuality
The commissioner did not at all like his
looks, although he was struck with the
elegance of his person and not a little
abashed by his fashionable and somewhat
haughty demeanor; for the commander
of the Gaspee was the younger
son of a nobleman.
“Here is the Newport commissioner,
Mr. Riverton,” said Captain Petty, who,
be it said in passing, was a baronet,
with the title of Sir William, as the
citizen entered the cabin. “This is
the commander of the Gaspee, Lieutenant
Arling.”
“Ah, Mr. Commissioner, I am glad
to meet you,” said the lieutenant, looking
at him over his shoulder, but without
rising or extending his hand; for in the
opinions of all true-blooded Englishmen
colonists, although they might be tories
and staunch king's men, and ministry
men, were plebeians. I hear from Captain
Petty, that you suspect the brig
that was a couple of leagues astern of
me, belongs to a Newport merchant,
dutiable freight by night.”
“Yes, sir, that is my conviction.”
“And you desire to go in the Gasper
I believe, for Sir William Petty has ordered
me to look after the brig.”
“I think my office requires my presence,
sir, and should prefer being on
the spot.”
“Very well, Mr. Rivers—”
“Riverton, sir,” corrected the commissioner,
who less and less liked the
young commander of the Gaspee.
“Beg pardon, Mr. Rivington”—
“Riv—”
“Are you ready to go on board?”
“Yes, sir,” responded the commissioner,
contrasting the well-bred courtesy
of Sir William, with the rude hauteur
of the honorable lieutenant. “Do
you think you will be able to get back
to-morrow?”
“Yes, if we get through our affair
and the wind favors,” answered the lieutenant,
rising. “Well, Sir William, I
will go on board; and if the brig runs
you, give me permission to fire into her
and treat her as an enemy?”
“Yes, but let the two first guns be
blank and five minutes between each.”
“I obey, sir; but you give too much
grace to these Yankee colonists.”
“We must recollect that they are
the king's subjects as well as we, and
are not therefore to be treated as enemies
that we are at war with.”
“If there are not some examples
made of these stubborn people, they will
get so ere long as to declare war against
the crown,” answered the lieutenant, as
he went out with the captain to the
quarter-deck.
His boat was already under the entering-post,
and after receiving one or
two words of caution from the captain
as to his management of the enterprise,
the lieutenant went over the side
and got into his boat, followed by
the commissioner; who, although he
did not well like the distance at which
Mr. Arling kept himself, was still so
earnest in the desire to be wanting in
nothing as a commissioner of revenues,
that he resolved still to accompany
him down the bay in pursuit of the
brig.
“Let fall,” cried the coxswain as his
officer seated himself. “Give way,”
was the next brief command, and the
boat left the ship's side and in five
minutes more was along side the
schooner.
By this time it was deep twilight,
the stars struggling with the glowing
west to rule the night. Mr. Arling, upon
reaching his deck, gave orders to
weigh the anchor, and loose the topsail,
jib and mainsail.
“Let there be no noise of singing
out about it, Mr. Carroll,” he said, to
the passed midshipman, who was first
officer. “I wish to slide away from
the anchorage quietly. The brig which
came up astern of us is supposed to be
inclined to drop her cargo on the
coast; for she turned back as soon as
she saw the sloop-of-war.”
“She was telegraphed, sir! Telegraphed
and warned by her owners, I
saw it done,” chimed in the commissioner,
very earnestly; for he wished to
have all the merit of the affair that was
on the carpet, that he could safely lay
claim to; for next to his gratification
at having been honored with a commission
from the crown, was his determination
that the king should see that he
was worthy of the trust reposed in him.
He seemed instinctively to appreciate
his unfitness, by talents or information
for the office, and, therefore, felt proportionably
grateful for an appointment
which he never dreamed of receiving,
and for which he had no other recommendation
toryism. His desire, therefore to make
himself acceptable to the high powers
in his new position, led him to volunteer
to go in the schooner, and to overcome
his nervous antipathy to guns and
gun-powder. His zeal, in one word,
over-topped his cowardice.
The schooner was in a few minutes
under her canvass, and with the wind
as it was, able to lay her course, close
hauled down the bay.
Just as she began to move away
from her anchorage, a small boat pulled
out of a little cove not far below the
hut of mad Margaret, and hugging the
shore, moved rapidly down with the
ebb tide. It contained three persons,
two of whom rowed while the third sat
in the stern and steered her with a
third oar. This was the resolute merchant,
Paul Frankland. One of the
oarsman was mate Finch, and the other
a negro servant belonging to the merchant.
“We shall have to pull for an hour
before we shall begin to think of seeing
the brig,” said Mr. Frankland, as he
glanced along the surface of the water
with his head bent low, and his eyes
brought nearly to a level with it.—
“Pull strong and steadily and not lose
breath by too rapid work. We have a
hard night before us.”
“The brig, your honor, ought to be
coming back towards the harbor by this
time,” remarked the mate, looking up
at the stars and then round upon the
dark shores, past which they were gliding.
“The sun has been gone down
full half an hour. But what is that
moving a-beam? Upon my soul, your
honor, there is the schooner that got in
to-day, standing out again under all
sail.”
“Are you sure it is the same?” asked
the merchant, quickly.
“Sure?” answered Finch, very positively.
“I can see between her masts,
and know her rake. This means som'at,
your honor.”
“Yes, and means that she is after
the Free-Trader,” responded the merchant,
fixing his eyes steadily upon the
indistinct form of the armed schooner
as it passed down the bay, about a
quarter of a mile distant.
| CHAPTER VII. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay | |