University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.

After Margaret had left our youthful
hero in his concealment, the continued
and increased shouting which reached
his ears from the town excited his anxiety.
Finding that his mother's absence
was prolonged, and impatient at his confinement,

and being of a spirit too brave
and daring to submit long to such a
mode of concealment to escape his foes,
he resolved to free himself from his hiding
place. After some difficulty, he
succeeded in removing one of the panels
and emerging into the cottage. Listening
and finding all about it still, though
he saw the lights and heard the hurrahs
in the town, he resolved to hasten thither.
For this purpose he threw on an
old cloak of his mother's, and a straw hat
that she had worn in her fortune-telling
wanderings, though he was not aware of
it. To avoid a meeting with her and
thus be stopped on his way, he followed
the steep hill-path, and coming round in
the rear of Mr. Manning's gardens, he
at length reached the streets of the town.
He walked on with a familiar step, and
soon came upon some people who were
talking together with much excitement.
From their conversation he learned the
cause of the agitation in the town, and
of the hurrahs, and of the crowd upon
the pier.

His heart bounded with joy, that there
was found one American merchant who
dared to set at defiance the unjust laws
of the crown; and he rejoiced that his
townsmen had patriotism enough in
their bosoms to aid him.

“I, too, will aid in unloading the
brig,” he said, as he left the group and
hastened to the wharf.

When he reached it, he could hardly
make his way to the vessel for the multitude.
Finding, from their exclamations
and questions as he passed, that
he was taken for his mother in her deranged
state, he took an opportunity to
throw aside the cloak and hat, saying,

“I need not fear arrest among so
many good patriots, even should the
Bexley's whole crew come on shore for
me!”

The next moment, bare-headed and
with his flowing locks scarcely dry
from the salt water in which they with
his dress had been saturated, he appeared
among the people, who, by the
light of a score of lanterns, placed in
the windows and doors of the store-house,
and held by men in the rigging
of the Free-Trader, were at work unlading
her. There were at least forty
men at work in their shirt-sleeves, some
in the hold breaking up the cargo, some
hooking it on to be hoisted others at the
fall, others rolling it across the deck to
men in the store-house. Such a scene
of excitement he had never before witnessed;
and burning with the wrongs he
had received from the English, his
heart was with them. He at once leaped
on board and took hold with them.

A sailor himself, he soon made himself
conspicuous among the townsmen
by his skill and adroitness.

“Who is that young man?” asked
Mr. Frankland. “He has given them
all new life by his example and words.
Who is he?”

No one could tell him. No one recognized
him. Yet he had not been
twenty minutes at work with them before
all yielded to him the direction of
the discharging.

The cargo had now nearly been hoisted
out when there was a cry.

“The sloop-of-war's boats are coming
full of men!”

At this, the timid and cautious fled,
and left only the bold.

“I want no blood shed, my friends,”
said Mr. Frankland. “There are only
two or three more pipes of wine left.—
Let them be; and all of you who have
done me and your country such good
service to-night, hasten to leave her,
that you may not be marked as being
engaged in the work! They may take
my vessel if they will!”

“We will have the three pipes up-first,
my friends,” cried Martin. “We
will not leave them a single glass of
wine!”

The men sprang to the work, and
while they were hoisting, Mr. Frankland
was hailed from the leading boat;
for as soon as the sloop's boats reached
the ship from down the bay, Sir William
had arrived and sent them to the
town to cut out the brig; the unloading
of which by the town's-people he had
heard of in the beginning by one of the
crown's men who had gone off in a skiff
to report. Arling, instead of going
with the boats direct to the Bexley, turned
aside, as we have seen, to pull to the
brig, which he was desirous of being the
first to board; but which, after stopping
to arrest the deserter, he was willing to
forego for the greater gratification of

conveying Barbara Frankland to his
vessel.

“Brig ahoy!” hailed the leading
boat.

“Well, the boats! What do you
wish?” returned the merchant, firmly.

“Is that the Free-Trader?”

“Yes.”

“Then I demand you to surrender
her to me in the King's name!”

“She makes no resistance to the
king, neither do I. Come on board
when you please, sir. But you will
take possession of her at the peril of
being answerable for all damages to my
property!”

“I'll take that look-out,” answered
the officer. “Pull away, men.”

Still the officer approached cautiously;
for there were visible, standing
quietly upon the wharf and shore, a
large number of people; and he did not
know but that he might yet get a hostile
reception. In the meanwhile the last
pipe had been hoisted and rolled across
the deck.

“My friends, a thousand thanks, and
you, young man, in particular,” said
the merchant. “Now lea ve quickly
and mingle with the crowd looking on.
Do not be seen on board. I will take
care of my own vessel!”

“If you wish to defend her, sir,” said
Martin, we will keep them off.”

“It would be useless, and cause bloodshed,
my brave young friend. They
will only put a guard on board, and let
her remain at the wharf. They have
no idea the dutiable goods are all on
shore, and will only board the brig to
keep them from being landed. You
have my thanks for what you have done.
Hasten on shore!”

“You must go also, Mr. Frankland,”
said Martin, with firmness, feeling
solicitous for the safety of the father of
Barbara. “The officers are irritative,
and will do violence to you. Come with
us, sir, and we will go. Your presence
alone on board will do no good! You
have others who are deeply interested
in your safety, sir.”

“True! I will go! I can do no good
by remaining. I have done my duty
thus far in resisting the unjust revenue
law! I will leave with you.”
Thus speaking, the merchant went to
the stern, from which the leading boa
was not three fathoms distant, and said,

“Mr. officer, I cannot defend my
brig, or I would do so. I leave her to
you and make you answerable. You
will find the commissioner of the crown
a prisoner in the cabin, and will do him
a favor to release him as early as convenient.
You will also find the tide-waiter
there!”

Mr. Frankland then crossed his brig's
deck and stepped on shore, followed by
Martin and two or three others who had
lingered behind. The next moment the
officer had boarded, sword in hand, as if
he expected resistance. But he found
the deck vacant. Ordering his men to
different points of the vessel to hold its
possession, he descended into the cabin,
and in a few minutes returned with the
commissioner who was eloquently re
counting his wrongs, to which the lieutenant
listened with much excitement-especially
when he heard of the Gas,
pee's boats.

“The vessel shall be taken from the
town and anchored under the Gaspee's
guns,” he exclaimed, fiercely.—
“She is a fair prize to the crown.—
To-morrow we will look up these rebels
who have now fled to the shore and
mixed with the crowd. Cast off the
hawsers fore and aft, and away aloft
there, some of you and loose the top
sails!” he shouted.

In a few minutes the brig was freed
from her fastenings to the pier, and under
her jib, topsail and tri-sail, slowly
moved away from the crowded wharf
and steered for the Bexley. All this
while the multitude looked on, but made
no effort to resist this movement, being
restrained by Mr. Frankland, who bade
them let the brig go; “for,” said he,
“they dare not keep her! The whole
province would be on fire! The king
would lose his colonies by such an act
of aggression; my conduct for this
night will be hailed with acclamation
throughout the land! Let the brig
go!”

The multitude, nevertheless, gave
vent to their feelings in groans and
jeers, and occasional shouts of derision
and defiance.'

Mr. Frankland, surrounded by his
more immediate friends, stood on the

pier and watched the receding brig
till it could be only indistinctly seen in
the distance.

“She has come to anchor, sir,” said
Martin, who stood close at his side, feeling,
for Barbara's sake, a regard for him
that partook of affection.

“You have good eyes, young man.”

“I can see that she has clued up her
topsails and swung round to the current.”

“Yes, that is true. I can make out
that. The brig is fairly in their power.
I may lose her, and her cargo, but, I
am willing to do so. I am able to bear
the loss, and am ready to bear it, for the
sake of showing my countrymen how
far the English will go in oppression;
and to show the English how far we
will go in resisting it.”

“But, sir, if you will give your consent,
the brig will not be long in their
hands,” said Martin. “We can rescue
her.”

“Who are you, brave young man?”
demanded the merchant, with surprise.

“I am but a poor Newport boy, sir,
was impressed five years ago by our tyrants.
This night I made my escape
from the Bexley by swimming on shore,
and I am thankful that it has been my
good fortune to be here at this time to
show my defiance of our oppressors.”
There was a loud shout of applause at
his words.

“What is his name? Who is it?”
demanded a score of voices.

“Yes, thy name, young gentleman,”
said the merchant, taking him by the
hand and looking him steadily in the
face.

Martin had not time to reply; for at
the same instant Margaret came foreing
her way and crying,

“The British have landed in a boat
and carried off thy daughter, Mr. Frankland.”

At this announcement there was a
general outcry of surprise and indignation.
Margaret briefly explained the
facts and made known to them that it
was the captain of the Gaspee, who had
gone down to his schooner, as she had
watched and seen, with his captive.

“Mother, tell me if this is true indeed?”
cried Martin, clasping her hands
in his, almost before she recognized him.

“Heaven be thanked! Here is my
son! Safe! Thou art safe.”

“Who knows where the Gaspee
lies?” cried Martin, in a voice that betrayed
the depth of his emotion.

“I do, Martin Manwaring,” answered
Mate Finch, “My friends, this
brave young sailor turns out to be Margaret's
son. Welcome him back.”

“Hurrah for Martin Manwaring.—
Long life to the brave Newport boy.”

“Who will volunteer to go with me
to the rescue of Mr. Frankland's daughter?”
he cried.

“I! I! I! I!” cried one after another,
till it seemed a hundred men responded
in the affirmative.

“My child! my poor child!” cried
the merchant, for the first time able to
speak, so overwhelmed had he been by
the intelligence; for he thought at once
that they had taken her as a hostage.

“Sir,” said Martin; “I am going to
receive her. She shall be restored to
your arms ere the sun again rise.”

“Heaven bless you and prosper you.”

“My friends, let as many boats as can
be got together in ten minutes be filled
with armed men and brought round to
the pier. We will first take the brig
from under the very guns of the Bexley,
and in her bear down upon the Gaspee,
which lays aground. This will be the
most sure and expeditious way; for they
will not be prepared to defend the brig.
If we fail in taking her as we pass, we
will row on and attack the Gaspee with
the boats. Let me know how many men
will go. As I count, respond.”

He counted up to one hundred and
seventy with a hearty-response at each
number.

“It is enough! Now to your boats.”

Those were soon obtained, for nearly
every citizen who dwelt near the shore
owned one or more. Within half an
hour, thirty boats, with full two hundred
men armed as they could be at such
short notice, gathered about the pierhead.
Into one of them Martin, Mr.
Frankland, who insisted upon going,
Mate Finch and ten othors, well armed,
embarked. To Martin, every man
with one consent, yielded the direction
of the enterprise.

In less than four minutes after she
was boarded, the Free-Trader was taken,
put under sail, and standing down the
bay, under a heavy fire from the sloop,
which, on discovering the movement,
opened her batteries; ihe brig having
been anchored forward of her beam,
she could only bring three or four of
her forward guns to bear upon her
without working round, and before she
effected the manæuvre, the brig was
beyond reach of her shot; nevertheless
she was hulled twice by the first fire,
and her main-topsail was shot from the
slings. Still Martin stood on; and
Mate Finch, keeping a sharp look-out
for the Gaspee, reported a boat coming
up, which as it came nearer and saw
the flotilla of boats about the brig, for
every boat of the thirty was alongside
with two or three men in it, put about,
Chase was given, but by superior
rowing and fleetness, it escaped to the
shore; and from the land, Arling, for
it was he, on his way up to the town,
beheld, by the light of her own guns,
the Gaspee attacked, boarded, and
captured; for the brig bore directly
down upon her, and laid her along-side,
and indifferent to her fire, poured
her two hundred men along her deck.
Martin found Barbara in the cabin, and
taking her hand, he led her to her
father, who embraced her with tears of
joy.

“Thank not me, my child, but this
noble and brave young man!” said her
father. “He has conducted this enterprise
and rescued you.”

“Father, I know not how to thank
him! If he will accept my poor hand,
it is his! Do not start, sir! We
have known each other and met before.
Our hearts have long been bound together.
We only ask your consent
that our hands man be united also.”

“You have it! I could give you
to no one more worthy of you. But I
am amazed! But you shall explain
all by and by. Mr. Manwaring, here
is my child. You have won her! She
says you love each other! Take her;
and my blessing with her!”

We will not dwell upon the happiness
and gratitude of the lovers.—
piness was soon called to the stern
duties of a conqueror and captor, and
gave orders to set the Gaspee on fire.
Mate Finch was the last to leave her,
lighting the train with his own hand
From the boats and the brig, which,
drawing two feet less water than the
schooner, safely floated, and was steered
away from the prize, with the
British crew prisoners on board, they
beheld the blaze seize upon the vessel,
and entwine like serpents about the
masts and cordage. After the masts
fell, she blew up with an explosion that
was heard, and a light that was seen for
thirty miles around.

Mate Finch now selected, at Mr.
Frankland's suggestion, a crew of ten
men from those on board and in the
boats; and made sail for some distant
port known only to himself and the
merchant: thus effectually putting the
brig beyond the reach of the British.—
The rest, with Martin, Mr. Frankland,
and Barbara, pulled for shore, and keeping
close in with it, in an hour reached
Newport, passing on their way, but too
far to be seen by her, the sloop-of-war
under full sail down the bay in chase of
the brig.

The marriage of Barbara Frankland
with the youthful hero of our story, took
placo four months after the events just
related, when the safety of the merchant
and of all concerned in the affair of the
Free-Trader was secured by a pardon
from the crown, and a modification of
the unjust revenue laws: for the ministry
saw in the resistance made in
Newport, and in the feeling of patriotic
sympathy which it awakened throughout
the provinces, that it would not be safe
to press free men too free; and that the
men of America were made of different
material than the willing serfs of Europe.
Nevertheless, the crown, soon
forgetting their lesson, began to enact
other oppressive laws, which, ere four
years expired, caused the thirteen colonies
to revolt and pronounce to the world
their independence to the mother country!

“Is it not thy dream all realized,
daughter?” said Margaret Manwaring,
as she smiled upon her blushing daughter-in-law
on the evening of her bridal.