In ship and prison

Our first voyage had been of three days duration, and we had captured two prizes of considerable value. Standing near Lieutenant Salter, as we left the harbor for our second cruise, I remarked:

“A short and successful trip was ours before, Lieutenant Salter. What think you our fortune will be this time, sir?”

He smiled. “Who can tell, Master Dunn? This search for prizes is much like a lottery. We may quickly make a fine draw, as we did before, or we may get a blank. It’s even possible that we may cruise around for weeks, yes, this entire voyage, and yet return to port empty-handed.”

“It’s not Captain Tucker’s luck to do that,” I protested stoutly. “He’s always made successful voyages, and I believe this will be no exception. We shall not go many days before we capture a craft. Remember what I tell you.”

“I presume you would like to see them coming so fast the Captain would find it hard work to make up prize crews for them,” he responded banteringly. Then he continued more earnestly: “I agree with you. I believe Captain Tucker sails under a lucky star, and have no idea our trip is to be a fruitless one.”

He proved a true prophet. The very next day we took a prize—a sloop from Halifax, laden with dried fish, and bound for Boston. Though not of great value, it was in no sense to be despised, and to my own mind it was not unimportant. It meant so much less food for the enemy, and so much more for our brave troops. With this thought predominant I raised a cheer as Boatswain Lewis, with a crew of four men, started for port in charge of her—a cheer which our entire ship’s company joined in heartily.

Then the prizes followed in rapid succession until we had nine to our credit, and our number had been reduced three score to furnish crews for them. Among these were several of great value.

It was just two weeks since we left port when we captured our tenth vessel, the brig White Swan, from the Western Islands for Boston, with a cargo of fruit and wine. I speak more particularly of this, for my own personal fortunes were more intimately connected with it.

We sighted the craft at early dawn, and immediately gave chase—and it was a long one. Heavy laden as she was, and with less than two-thirds of our spread of canvas, yet she was well nigh a match for us in sailing. We overtook her by inches. The sun was about to set when we sent a shot across her bow, and it had gone down when I returned from boarding her and reported her sailing port, her destination, her cargo, and the additional facts that she had a crew of twelve, and carried one passenger—a Master George Rollins.

Captain Tucker kept her by the frigate all night. At daylight he transferred to her a score of prisoners that we had taken from other vessels, and, placing me in command with a crew of ten, he directed me to take her into Lynn. Master Rollins at his own request remained upon her, and with her captain shared the cabin with myself and Midshipman Thomas Blinn, who was my executive officer.

We cleared from the Franklin about nine o’clock and started on our voyage of two hundred miles with high hopes. The brig was a staunch one, and, as I have already intimated, a fast sailer. Her cargo was valuable, and I felt what perhaps may be termed a natural elation to be given the task of taking her into port. It is true I had a large number of prisoners between the decks, and two men under parole in the cabin, but I anticipated no trouble from them, and felt myself competent to fulfill the task assigned me faithfully.

The day was clear and cold. The wind was a favorable one, and we went ahead at a pace which would have delighted any sailor’s heart. In ten hours I estimated that we had covered nearly one-half the distance to port. Let the breeze only keep up and we should reach our haven before noon on the morrow. With much satisfaction I turned the watch over to Midshipman Blinn and went below.

Inadvertently the room I occupied was between that of Captain Williamson and Master Rollins, while Midshipman Blinn had one on the other side of the cabin. I had fallen asleep, but was awakened by someone trying to open my door. Fortunately, as it proved, I had fastened it on entering, and discovering this fact the intruder passed on and gave a light tap at the door of Master Rollins. The next instant, as though the newcomer was expected, the door opened gently, and the man quietly entered.

I suddenly remembered that when I stored my kit under my berth I had noticed a crack in the partition between the staterooms, and stepping noiselessly out upon the floor I stooped down, pushed my bag to one side, and crawled in beside it. Placing my ear to the crack I was able to distinguish much that passed between Master Rollins and his visitor, though they conversed in whispers.

He was Captain Williamson, as I had suspected, and had evidently announced his failure to enter my room, for his companion was saying:

“It is too bad, Captain; so the first part of your plan fails.”

“Yes, and now I’ll try the second,” was the response.

“You’ll need to proceed with great caution, for if discovered they’ll be likely to put you down with the other prisoners,” Master Rollins now warned him.

“Yes,” the captain admitted, “but it’s worth the risk. If I can only crawl along to the hatch and open it, the vessel is ours again. What we lack in weapons we shall make up in numbers, and can easily overpower the half dozen men on deck. Then Master Dunn down here and the men in the forecastle can be taken care of at our leisure.”

“I shall stand by my agreement if you succeed, Captain Williamson, and add a hundred pounds to the one I am to give you when you land me on the cape.”

“I have no fear about that, Master Rollins. You have done always just as you promised, but I think this time I shall have earned it,” the officer commented, and turned to go.

I waited until I had heard him pass my door, and ascend the ladder to the deck; then I slipped out of my room and hurried after him. But the moment my head was above the hatchway I knew that his second plan had failed, for Midshipman Blinn had been on the alert, and detected his presence on deck.

“What does this mean, Captain Williamson?” he was demanding. “You know as well as I do that you were not to come on deck during the night hours. I must insist that you return to the cabin immediately, or I shall have to put you in the brig with your men.”

For answer the captain did the most foolish thing he could have done under the circumstances. He sprang upon the speaker, doubtless with the intention of throwing him down, and passing over him to the middle hatch. Perhaps he thought that with a quick rush he could reach it and let out the prisoners before the watch could prevent him.

But he had underestimated the quickness and strength of Master Blinn. Leaping to one side, the Midshipman avoided his antagonist, and himself became the attacker instead of the attacked. Grappling the Englishman by the waist, he called loudly for his men to come to his aid. I sprang forward to assist him, but two of the watch were before me, and when I reached his side, the burly Captain was subdued. Two minutes later he was in the hold with the other prisoners.

I quickly acquainted my executive officer with what I had seen and heard in the cabin, and so explained how I came to be on the deck so promptly. Then I said warmly—forgetting all titles in my appreciation of Master Blinn’s good work:

“But I hardly was needed here, Tom. You were too alert for the Captain. No one could have done better. I shall make a full report of your part in this affair to Captain Tucker.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” he replied heartily, dropping into the same familiar strain. “But shall I go down after Master Rollins and put him in the brig?”

“No, I think not, at least at present,” I replied. “I judge he is one who leaves the risky part of his schemes for someone else to do, and so we have nothing to fear in that direction. Still, we’ll keep a sharp eye on him, and put him under arrest the moment we see any reason for doing so. Now I’ll go back to my room and finish out my watch below.”

I lay awake some time after reaching my berth, and heard our passenger moving uneasily about his room. Once he cautiously opened his door, and looked out into the cabin, but he made no other attempt to investigate into the captain’s whereabouts, so I went to sleep.

At breakfast, however, he ventured to inquire if Captain Williamson was sick.

“No,” I answered, “he was foolish enough last night to try to liberate the prisoners, but Midshipman Blinn was on the alert, and put him into the hold with them.”

He ate uneasily after that, and soon after, excusing himself, went back to his stateroom. Two hours later he sent for me, and, wondering what this move on his part meant, I slipped a pistol into my pocket, and went down to see him.

He closed the door of his room as soon as I was in it, and pushing a stool towards me, remarked politely:

“Sit down, Captain Dunn, I wish to have a little talk with you.”

“Very well,” I responded shortly.

“I have a proposal to make,” he went on blandly, “one that will be of great advantage to you personally.”

I bowed, and waited for him to go on.

“I have reasons,” he continued smoothly, “for not wishing to land in any New England port. So I had arranged with Captain Williamson to put me ashore in some retired spot on Cape Cod. I was to give him one hundred pounds in gold for doing this. The capture of the brig by your frigate has of course made it impossible for him to fulfill his contract. But if you will render me the same favor, I shall be glad to give you the same compensation.”

I thought a moment. There certainly was something strange in the man’s statement. It was clear he did not care to face the Continental authorities, and I could easily understand how there might be good reasons for that. But why he was equally anxious to avoid a port like Boston where the British were in control, for which the brig was making before her capture, I could not understand. Puzzle as I would over it I could not explain that. Hoping to draw him out, however, I now said:

“Why not offer me the other hundred pounds you were going to give Captain Williamson if he recaptured the vessel?”

He stared at me in sheer amazement. Evidently how I came to know of this fact perplexed him. But he finally replied:

“Well, I will do it. Land me in a retired spot anywhere below Boston, and you shall have the two hundred pounds.”

I laughed. “I couldn’t think of it for that amount,” I declared. “Captain Williamson could do it, and it was none of his crew’s business why he put you ashore in one place rather than in another. But here with me is another officer and ten seamen, any one of whom could report my act to Captain Tucker. I must have enough to buy their silence.”

I said this to ascertain to what extent he was willing to go in order to secure his release, though I had no idea of accepting any terms he might propose.

“True,” he responded hopefully. “I never thought of that. Well, you shall have one thousand pounds in gold for setting me ashore, and you may divide it up with your men as you please.”

I was absolutely startled at this offer. Evidently the whole matter was a more serious one than I had imagined. Whoever Master Rollins was, he was too important a personage to be allowed to go. But to keep up the farce a little longer I managed to query:

“But how do I know you have got so much money at your command? That is a big sum, Master Rollins.”

His face flushed—in anger, I thought, at my insinuation that he might not be able to pay me the sum named. If so, he conquered himself, for in an instant he said haughtily:

“I forget that you do not know me, Captain Dunn. But you shall see for yourself,” and pulling out two small leather cases from under his berth he threw them open, removed a few garments, and then exclaimed:

“Look!”

I did look with bulging eyes. In one were coins of gold—guineas, nobles, sovereigns—hundreds of them; in the other there were coins of silver—crowns, half-crowns, and farthings even more numerous.

“I have five thousand pounds there,” he declared, and I did not doubt him.

But who was this strange man? An army paymaster? No, or he would have been glad to have gone into Boston—unless he was absconding with the money which was to pay the wages of the British soldiers. Like a flash the thought came to me. The usual place for a paymaster was on a frigate, surrounded by a force that could convey him to his destination beyond all question. But if he was trying to make off with the money, what was more natural than for him to take passage from England to the Azores, and from there to America where he would wish to avoid both British and Continental authorities. In fact, the more quietly he could slip into the country, the better. I was sure I had found the true explanation why he made his strange proposal—his tremendous offer. But that was a matter the Continental authorities could settle. My duty was clear. It was to guard the man and his money every moment until we reached port and I had turned him over to the proper tribunal. This decision reached, I said quietly:

“I am satisfied, Master Rollins. Close up your boxes, and put them back under the berth.”

He did so, and then remarked: “You see I can pay you the amount promised, Captain Dunn, large as it is.”

“Certainly, sir,” I admitted, “but come now with me.”

Without hesitation he followed me into the cabin.

“Close and lock your door,” I now directed, and he complied, but in a way that showed he was a little puzzled by my commands.

“Now come in here,” I continued, throwing open the door of what had been Captain Williamson’s room, and stepping back to allow him to enter first. He did so reluctantly, and no sooner was he well within the room than he turned upon me asking:

“What does this mean, Captain Dunn?”

“This,” I explained, drawing my pistol from my pocket and holding it so it was ready for instant use. “You are evidently too important A personage to be allowed to escape in any way, Master Rollins. I shall keep you in here under guard until we are safe in port, and you have been turned over to the Continental authorities. They shall decide who you are, and to whom your gold and silver rightly belongs. Meantime you have the satisfaction of knowing it is locked up and the key is in your pocket. It shall not be touched until you yourself open the door for the men to whom I am responsible.” And with these words I stepped back into the cabin, and closing the door locked him in. Five minutes thereafter an armed sailor stood before the door, nor was it without a guard for a single moment until we reached Lynn.

With strict instructions to Midshipman Blinn to take good care of Master Rollins until I returned, I hurried on shore and visited the Continental agent. Reporting the prize, I then acquainted him with the astonishing discovery I had made, and my own surmise about the mysterious passenger.

“We will soon know,” he declared after hearing my story, “and let me add, too, Midshipman Dunn, you have handled this whole matter with much discretion and have proved that your love of country is superior to British gold,” and he shook my hand warmly.

He returned with me to the brig. First, he had an interview with Master Rollins, who soon broke down under his sharp questioning, and made a full confession.

He was Major Ralph Walker, and a paymaster in the British army. Entrusted with the five thousand pounds to pay off the soldiers in Boston, he had run away with the money and sailed for the Azores. There he had secured passage on the brig, and made his arrangements with her captain to slip quietly into the colonies, where he hoped under an assumed name to enjoy his ill-gotten wealth.

His confession finished, he willingly opened the door of his stateroom, and delivered all his personal effects to the Continental official. Among his baggage were found papers fully substantiating the story he had told.

The decision of the agent was quickly given. The circumstances under which the man had been apprehended made no difference. He was a British officer, and therefore a legitimate prisoner of war; the money he carried was British property, and therefore a legitimate prize; an opinion sustained by the entire naval committee a few weeks later. So the five thousand pounds sterling, added to the value of the brig and her cargo, made her capture the most valuable prize our frigate had yet taken.

I never saw Master Rollins, or Major Walker, as I should call him, again. But I heard some months later that he had been liberated on parole, and had disappeared. Probably he went to some part of the colonies where he was unknown, and there began life anew, though in poverty instead of in wealth as he had planned.