The Tory Lover 31

The Tory Lover 31

The officers were silent, wrapped in their heavy boat-cloaks, and the

men rowed with all the force that was in them. The captain had the

surgeon with him in one boat, and some midshipmen, and the other boat

was in charge of Lieutenant Wallingford, with Dickson and Hall.

 

There were thirty picked seamen, more or less, in the party; the boats

were crowded and loaded to the gunwale, and they parted company like

thieves in the night to work their daring purposes. The old town of

Whitehaven lay quiet; there was already a faint light of coming dawn

above the Cumberland Hills when they came to the outer pier; there was a

dim gleam of snow on the heights under the bright stars, and the air was

bitter cold. An old sea was running high after the late storms, and the

boats dragged slowly on their errand. The captain grew fierce and

restless, and cursed the rowers for their slowness; and the old town of

Whitehaven and all her shipping lay sound asleep.

 

The captain’s boat came in first; he gave his orders with sure

acquaintance, and looked about him eagerly, smiling at some

ancient-looking vessels as if they were old friends, and calling them by

name. What with the stormy weather of the past week, and an alarm about

some Yankee pirates that might be coming on the coast, they had all

flocked in like sheep, and lay stranded now as the tide left them.

There was a loud barking of dogs from deck to deck, but it soon ceased.

Both the boats had brought what freight they could stow of pitch and

kindlings, and they followed their orders; the captain’s boat going to

the south side, and Wallingford’s to the north, to set fires among the

shipping. There was not a moment to be lost.

 

On the south side of the harbor, where the captain went, were the larger

ships, many of them merchantmen of three or four hundred tons burthen;

on the north side were smaller craft of every sort, Dutch doggers and

the humble coast-wise crafts that made the living of a family,—each poor

fish boat furnishing the tool for a hard and meagre existence. On few

of these was there any riding light or watch; there was mutual

protection in such a company, and the harbor was like a gateless

poultry-yard, into which the captain of the Ranger came boldly like a

fox.

 

He ran his boat ashore below the fort, and sent most of her crew to set

fires among the vessels, while he mounted the walls with a few

followers, and found the sentinels nothing to be feared: they were all

asleep in the guardhouse, such was the peace and prosperity of their

lives. It was easy enough to stop them from giving alarm, and leave

them fast-bound and gagged, to find the last half of the night longer

than the first of it. A few ancient cannon were easily spiked, and the

captain ran like a boy at Saturday-afternoon bird-nesting to the fort

beyond to put some other guns out of commission; they might make

mischief for him, should the town awake.

 

"Come after me!" he called. "I am at home here!" And the men at his

heels marveled at him more than ever, now that they were hand to hand

with such an instant piece of business. It took a man that was half

devil to do what the captain was doing, and they followed as if they

loved him. He stopped now in a frenzy of sudden rage. "They have had

time enough already to start the burning; what keeps them? There should

be a dozen fires lit now!" he cried, as he ran back to the waterside.

The rest of the boat’s crew were standing where he had left them, and

met his reproaches with scared faces: they had their pitch and tar with

them, and had boarded a vessel, but the candles in their dark lanterns,

which were to start the blaze, had flickered and gone out. Somebody had

cut them short: it was a dirty trick, and was done on purpose. They

told in loud, indignant whispers that they had chosen an old deserted

ship that would have kindled everything near her, but they had no light

left. And the sky was fast brightening.

 

The captain’s face was awful to look at, as he stood aghast. There was

no sight of fire across the harbor, either, and no quick snake of flame

could be seen running up the masts. He stood for one terrible moment in

silence and despair. "And no flint and steel among us, on such an

errand!" he gasped. "Come with me, Green!" he commanded, and set forth

again, running like a deer back into the town.

 

It took but a minute to pass, by a narrow way, among some poor stone

houses and out across a bit of open ground, to a cottage poorer and

lower than any, and here Paul Jones lifted the clumsy latch. It was a

cottage of a single room, and his companion followed hastily, and stood

waiting close behind oil the threshold.

 

"Nancy, Nancy, my dear!" said the captain, in a gentle voice, but

thrusting back a warning hand to keep the surgeon out. "Nancy, ye ’ll

not be frightened; ’t is no thief, but your poor laddie, John Paul, that

you wintered long ago with a hurt leg, an’ he having none other that

would friend him. I ’ve come now but to friend you and to beg a light."

 

There was a cry of joy and a sound of some one rising in the bed, and

the surgeon heard the captain’s hasty steps as he crossed the room in

the dark and kissed the old creature, who began to chatter in her feeble

voice.

 

"Yes, here’s your old tinder box in its place on the chimney," said the

captain hastily. "I’m only distressed for a light, Mother Nancy, and my

boat just landing. Here ’s for ye till I get ashore again from my

ship," and there was a sound of a heavy handful of money falling on the

bed.

 

"Tak’ the best candle, child," she cried, "an’ promise me ye ’ll be

ashore again the morn’s morn an’ let me see your bonny eyes by day! I

said ye’d come,—I always said ye’d come!" But the two men were past

hearing any more, as they ran away with their treasure.

 

"Why in God’s name did you leave the door wide open?" said the surgeon.

"She ’ll die of a pleurisy, and your gold will only serve to bury her!"

 

There was no time for dallying. The heap of combustibles on one old

vessel’s deck was quick set afire now and flung down the hatches, and a

barrel of tar was poured into the thick-mounting flames; this old brig

was well careened against another, and their yards were fouled. There

was no time to do more; the two would easily scatter fire to all their

neighborhood when the morning wind sprung up to help them, and the

captain and his men must put off to sea. There were still no signs of

life on the shore or the fort above.

 

They all gathered to the boat; the oarsmen were getting their places,

when all at once there was a cry among the lanes close by, and a crowd

of men were upon them. The alarm had been given, and the Ranger’s men

were pressed hard in a desperate, close fight. The captain stood on the

end of the little pier with his pistol, and held back some of the

attacking party for one terrible minute, till all his men were in. "Lay

out, lay out, my boys!" he cried then from his own place in the stern.

There were bullets raining about them, but they were quick out of harm’s

way on the water. There was not a man of that boat’s company could

forget the captain’s calmness and daring, as they saw him stand against

the angry crowd.

 

The flames were leaping up the rigging of the burning ship; the shore

was alive with men; there were crowds of people swarming away up among

the hills beyond the houses. There had been a cannon overlooked, or

some old ship’s gun lay upon the beach, which presently spoke with

futile bravado, bellowing its hasty charge when the captain’s boat was

well out upon the bay. The hills were black with frightened folk, as if

Whitehaven were a ruined ant-hill; the poor town was in a terror. On

the other side of the harbor there was no blaze even yet, and the

captain stood in his boat, swaying to its quick movement, with anxious

eyes set to looking for the other men. There were people running along

the harbor side, and excited shapes on the decks of the merchantmen;

suddenly, to his relief of mind, he saw the other boat coming out from

behind a Dutch brig.

 

Lieutenant Hall was in command of her now, and he stood up and saluted

when he came near enough to speak.

 

"Our lights failed us, sir," he said, looking very grave; "somebody had

tampered with all our candles before we left the ship. An alarm was

given almost at once, and our landing party was attacked. Mr. Dickson

was set upon and injured, but escaped. Mr. Wallingford is left ashore."

 

"The alarm was given just after we separated," said Dickson, lifting

himself from the bottom of the boat. "I heard loud cries for the guard,

and a man set upon me, so that I am near murdered. They could not have

watched us coming. You see there has been treachery; our fine

lieutenant has stayed ashore from choice."

 

"That will do, sir!" blazed the captain. "I must hear what you have

done with Wallingford. Let us get back to our ship!" And the two boats

sped away with what swiftness they could across the great stretch of

rough water. Some of the men were regretful, but some wore a hard and

surly look as they bent to their heavy oars.

 

 

 

 

*XXV*

 

*A MAN’S CHARACTER*

 

"Yet have they still such eyes to wait on them

As are too piercing; that they can behold

And penetrate the Inwards of the Heart."

 

 

The men left on board the Ranger, with Lieutenant Simpson in command,

who had been watching all these long hours, now saw clouds of smoke

rising from among the shipping, but none from the other side of the

town, where they knew the captain had ordered many fires to be set among

the warehouses. The two boats were at last seen returning in company,

and the Ranger, which had drifted seaward, made shift with the morning

breeze to wear a little nearer and pick them up. There was a great smoke

in the harbor, but the town itself stood safe.

 

The captain looked back eagerly from the height of the deck after he

came aboard; then his face fell. "I have been balked of my purpose!" he

cried. "Curse such treachery among ye! Thank God, I ’ve frightened

them, and shown what a Yankee captain may dare to do! If I had been an

hour earlier, and no sneaking cur had tampered with our lights"—

 

He was pale with excitement, and stood there at first triumphant, and

next instant cursing his hard luck. The smoke among the shipping was

already less; the Ranger was running seaward, as if the mountains had

waked all their sleepy winds and sent them out to hurry her.

 

There was a crowd on deck about the men who had returned, and the

sailors on the yards were calling down to their fellows to ask

questions. The captain had so far taken no notice of any one, or even

of this great confusion.

 

"Who’s your gentleman now?" Dickson’s voice suddenly rang triumphant,

like a cracked trumpet, above the sounds of bragging narrative that were

punctuated by oaths to both heaven and the underworld. "Who ’s a traitor

and a damned white-livered dog of a Tory now? Who dropped our spare

candles overboard, and dirtied his pretty fingers to spoil the rest? Who

gave alarm quick ’s he got his boat ashore, and might have had us all

strung up on their English gallows before sunset?"