 | CHAPTER VIII. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay |  |
8. CHAPTER VIII.
The boat which contained the merchant
rowed on, close under the shore,
keeping in the obscurity of its shadow
to escape the observation of any sharp
eyes on the deck of the schooner, while
the latter favored by the wind and tide,
passed rapidly by it and soon presented
to them her stern lights. She was going
about five miles an hour, while the
boat rowed four, or a little over.
“There is no doubt that this movement
of the schooner's is owing to the
brig's putting back,” said Mr. Frankland,
after sometime, watching the
vessel as it receded before him.
“I hope, your honor, they won't be
so lucky as to fall in with her and stop
her,” answered the mate, as he bent
his strong frame to the light oar.—
“Row hard, Pompey! Get the oil in
your elbows warm, and loosen your
stiff joints. Throw your head and
shoulders forward, and spring to it.”
“Me do 'em bess, massa Finch. Me
breakee him oar, me pull harder,” responded
the negro.
“Let 'em break. You have only to
'bey orders if you break owners, to say
nothin' of oars.”
“Yiss, massa,” responded the sable
oarsman, as he threw his weight upon
the oar, and nearly bent it into a bow,
with renewed muscular exertion.
“Your eyes are more used to seeing
Finch,” observed Mr. Frankland.
“Yes, I dare say, your honor. I can
see at night without spectacles.”
“Look over your shoulder occasionally
and scan the water below us, for
we may be able to make out the brig.—
It is now an hour and a half since the
sun went down, and if she put back at
dark she ought to be pretty well up the
bay by this time.”
“Yes, your honor. When she tacked
she was about five miles out. She
probably ran out about five miles more,
before she put about to run in again;
that would give her, at this six knot
breeze runnin' before it, about an hour
and a half, to get in as far as Indian
Rock.”
“In that case we ought to see her
very soon, for the Rock is not more
than half a mile below us. I fear some
difficulty will occur if the schooner falls
in with her. Yet I do not see how she
can help it. The channel is so narrow
and the stars give light enough for one
vessel to see another a mile off. The
Gaspee must be full half a mile ahead of
us, and yet we can still see her very
distinctly.”
“Is that the Gaspee schooner, sir?”
asked the mate, quickly.
“Yes, so I learned just before I left
the town.”
“Then her captain is wide awake.—
She is a regular hard 'un to cruise.—
Her leftenant is a lord's son, and dressed
as rich as if he was just going to a
tea-party, but he's a real fighter.—
There's no back out to him and no
flinch. His men, as was with him off
Halifax, says he's a hard hand with his
crew; and what's more, they say he
hates the colonists as bad as he does
the French, which, your honor knows,
every Englishman is bound to hate.”
But the merchant did not heed his
words, his attention being closely fixed
upon some object down the bay. He
took off his chapeau and bent his head
down over the gunwale, within a few
inches of the surface of the water, and
examined the horizon with the minutest
inspection.
“What does your honor see?”
“I thought I saw the vessel just in
range with the Indian Rock; but I
must have been deceived.”
“It might have been the Gaspy,” answered
the mate, looking round.
“No, I see the Gaspee to the right,
standing down as before. The brig I
thought that I discovered, close in with
the Head; but I see nothing now.”
“Perhaps, your honor, she has seen
the schooner and has run in under the
rock to anchor; for it was where you
telegraphed her to wait for you to
board her.”
“But if she has discovered the Gaspee,
the latter ought to have seen her
also.”
“Pr'aps they wasn't expecting to fall
in with her so near port, seeing her
stand out to sea afore dark, and so they
han't been on the watch for her.”
“Look! There is a flash! She has
fired!” cried Mr. Frankland, as the
sharp report of a twelve-pounder reached
his ears from the Gaspee, which at
the same moment was displayed in the
light of day by the illumination. The
light of the gun also showed the merchant
the Indian Head Rock, with the
mast and mainsail of a vessel just disappearing
behind it. All was the next
moment dark.
“They have seen the brig, your honor!”
“Yes. I saw her just passing the
Head, and I was not deceived at first.
The schooner has fired to bring her to.
standing up in his boat, much excited.
“And well she might fire to make
her come to, your honor for the Gaspy
has kept so far to the westward that she
has placed the channel shoal between
her and the brig; and though it a'nt
more nor a mile across, she'll have to
run down three miles or come back two
before she can get round it to reach
her. This shows why she fited as soon
as she saw her standing up to'ards the
Head; and it shows also they didn't
expect to fall in with the brig till they
got at least as far down as where the
channel shoal ends.”
“You are right, Finch. You must
be right.”
“I knows I am, your honor. I
know every fathom of the channel as
well as I know the way to my own locker.
The Gaspee's takin' the west
channel down, has saved the brig, if
that was the brig we saw.”
“I am sure it was, though I could
see only her main-mast as she went in
under the curve of the shore below the
Rock. I trust, if it is as you say, that
the schooner can't get at her without
going down the bay a league, and then
coming up this side of the shoal, that
the Free-Trader won't heed a few shots,
but stand on.”
“Cap'n Benbow is not a man to fear
on, your honor.”
“I know his courage well. He must
be aware from my telegraphic communication,
ordering him off till night,
that something is in the wind, as you
would say, Finch. But he will be surprised
at being fired into by a strange
vessel in this way. Pull on fast. Let
us lose no time, and once on board the
brig I shall know how to proceed.—
Give way, strong.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the mate,
and the two oarsmen sent the little boat
along at a rate that ploughed up the
foam ahead of her and tossed the spray
over the merchant. But he heeded it
not, nor cared for the wetting of his
powdered curls; but standing up in the
boat with his eyes keenly watching the
schooner, which it was evident had
hove to, he urged them to their task.
“There again,” he suddenly cried,
as the Gaspee's bow-port once more
shot out a column of flame that illumined
the horizon for a mile around her,
showing the dark line of the shore, and
the bold bluff of Indian Rock in dark
relief. The next instant all was pitchy
darkness from the contrast with the previous
brilliancy.
“The brig was not visible, Finch,”
said the merchant, with animation.
“She was hid by the rock, your honor;
no doubt she is coming round in the
curve where the channel runs, and will
soon show her nose coming out beyond
the head; for you know the channel
takes a bend in there for half a mile-curve,
so that from where we are a vessel
would be invisible till she came out
again.”
“She won't come out; but anchor
there as I telegraphed her to do; yet
this firing may either drive her back to
sea, or lead Captain Benbo to try to
run up to Newport without heeding my
signal.”
“There is one thing sartain, your
honor, and that is that the Gaspy had
her fore-topsail a-back when she fired
that last gun. That means something.”
“That she intends to fire upon the
brig, and cripple her till she will come
to.”
“It may be so; but I'm rather thinking,
sir, she has laid to to send her
boats out to board the brig. For as
she can't get across the shore to her,
and as she'd have to go too far round to
across and take possession of her.”
“If that is her purpose, she shall be
defeated if human power can do it,”
exclaimed the merchant. A rocket
was now sent up by the schooner which
showed her boats just putting off.—
“Lose not a foot's way, but row for
life and death. Pompey, a sovereign
shall be your reward if we reach the
brig before the Gaspee's boat. Master
Finch, all depends now upon your exertions.
Put me on board the Free-Trader
and an ounce of gold shall be
yours.”
Mr. Frankland had caught a glimpse
by the light of the rocket, as it expanded
high in the air, of the brig just emerging
from the headland, behind which
she had been hidden by the curve in
the shore, for the last ten minutes. He
saw that she was crowding on all sail,
and evidently resolved to reach her port
in spite of the firing directed upon her.
The merchant was calm and self-possessed,
but his sparkling glance showed
the stern resolution of his spirit. The
distance of the boat from the brig was
less than that of the schooner, and he
felt that he should reach it first, especially
as the Free-Trader was each moment
coming nearer and lessening the
space that the mate and Pompey had to
row over.
“We are like to have a warm affair,
your honor,” quietly remarked Finch,
as he dipped his oar deeply and strong.
“I trust not. They have no right to
fire into a colonial vessel; and less to
board her. Their boats shall be resisted!”
“And that will not be done without
some fighting, your honor; and that's
what I love. I ha'n't had a hand in
any affair this four years, since we beat
off them Spanish pirates in the Indies,
where I got that bullet in my leg, that
never'll let me stand watch in bad weather,
without giving me the rheumatis';
otherwise, you wouldn't see me doing
so much shore duty.”
“Look along the water! Do you
see the boats?” asked the merchant.
“I see something beaming this way,
about three points off my starboard rolock.”
“That is what I see. It must be the
boats; if so, we shall keep the lead of
them. The brig is coming nearer and
nearer. I can already distinguish her
head sails.”
“She an't more nor a quarter of a
mile, your honor. Captain Benbow is
determined to run in. We'll soon be
aboard on her, your honor.”
Captain Benbow, so frequently mentioned,
was standing on the deck of his
brig, with a spy-glass in his hand, with
which he was intently watching the
schooner.
“I should like to know what the fellow
means?” he said, in a tone of anger
and obstinacy. “If it is a king's
vessel, why don't he show his signal,
and not fire into me in this fashion;
and now sending his boats to board me,
as if I was a pirate, or he was one. Can
you understand this, Mr. Coffin?” he
asked of his mate, who had just reported
that he had obeyed his last order, and
set the fore-topmast studding-sail.
“I can't tell, sir; unless it is that the
revenue laws that was talked so much
about three months ago, are now the
law o' the land, and this a king's revenue
cruiser, wanting to overhaul us to
see what we've got aboard as pays duties.”
“That is what struck me when I
saw the telegraph signal, ordering me
out till night-fall, and then to run in
and anchor on Indian Head here. But
for while I command this brig, no man
shall bring me to, without showing better
reason than iron balls! Keep a
sharp look-out for the boats, and have
the pistols and boarding-pikes all ready;
for, by the beard of the Pope, I will not
let any man come on board till he shows
his authority, and—I approve of it!”
“He seems to have done firing, sir,”
remarked the mate. “That second gun
like to have done us a mischief.”
“If it is a king's schooner, all the
mischief they had done should have been
paid back to the owners from the king's
coffers, or there would have been a fuss
among the colonies! Is all her canvass
on that will draw, Mr. Coffin?”
“Yes, sir. She is going full six knots
by the log! Do you see the schooner's
boats?”
“No, hardly. I wish they'd be kind
enough to send up another rocket, and
let me have a glimpse at them and their
numbers. In my opinion, it is a regular
revenue cruiser, and the law is down
upon all owners ashore; and I have no
right to let 'em take possession of the
brig, without Mr. Frankland's leave.—
He gave me command of her, and I'll
keep her and her cargo for him, or die
on her deck! There is my mind, Mr.
Coffin!”
“And I and the men will stand up to
you, sir!”
“I know they would!—”
“Boat dead ahead, sir!” called the
look-out on the bows.
“How many?” cried the captain, as
the mate sprang forward.
“But one, sir!”
“Brig, ahoy”' came loudly on the
water in the stern tones of Mate Finch's
boatswain-like voice.
“Ahoy!” responded the mate, ri
valing his hail in the deep base of its
note.
“Is that the Free-Trader?”
“Aye, aye!”
“Fling us a rope. Here is Mr.
Frankland, the owner, wants to board
ye!” responded the mate, as the boat
shot past the brig's bows.
| CHAPTER VIII. The free-trader, or, The cruiser of Narragansett Bay | |