In ship and prison

My orders had been to remain in port with my crew until the Franklin arrived, as Captain Tucker, at the time I left him, expected to bring in his next prize. He did, but it was two weeks before he came. The prize he brought was a good one, however, and well worth his fortnight of waiting. It was a brig from Cork, Ireland, bound to Boston with a cargo of beef, pork, butter and coal. There had been a little rumor connected with her capture, which Lieutenant Fettyplace told me about soon after his arrival.

The vessel was sighted just before she entered Massachusetts Bay, and a chase began. But no sooner did she find our frigate was after her than she turned and came down to meet her. When near enough she signalled that her captain would like to come on board but had no boat, all having been swept from the deck in a recent gale, as was afterwards explained. So Captain Tucker sent a yawl after him.

He soon arrived, a short, fat, jolly Irishman. Bowing low before our commander upon reaching our deck, he began:

“Faith, yer honor, I’m glad to see ye. I’ve been standin’ off an’ on here for two weeks now lookin’ for the likes of ye. I’m Jeremiah O’Brien, Capt’n of the brig Blackfriar, from Cork for Boston, with vittles for the British army. But I’ve got me pay safe in me pocket, sir, an’ not a snap cares I if me whole cargo falls into your hands. Nor is that jest the truth, yer honor. I do care. I’d rather ye Yankees, as ye are called, would ate the vittles while every mother’s son of those red-coated spalpeens in Boston go hungry. So, if ye please to tell me where ye wish me to sail, me men and I’ll become a prize crew an’ take the brig into port. Or if ye’re ’fraid to trust me, pint ye own craft for the harbor, an’ we’ll follow in yer wake. What’s the course, sir?” and with another low bow he waited for Captain Tucker to speak.

“This is most extraordinary, sir,” our skipper said coldly. “Pray may I ask what you expect for this betrayal of your trust?”

“There’s no betrayal of trust, yer honor,” he returned somewhat hotly. “I told me ship-owners I wouldn’t sail the brig over to the colonies for them without my pay straight down for the entire voyage, an’ that I was no coward an’ shouldn’t run away from any armed vessel that gave me chase, however big it was, but that they must run the risk of my capture. I’m a man of my word, sir. Ye began to chase me, an’ not a bit did I run from ye. Here I am standing boldly on your deck, though at the risk of losin’ me brig. What’s the odds, sir? If I don’t give ye the vessel, ye’ll take her, so she’s yours under either circumstance. An’ do ye ask what I expect? It’s the privilege of enlistin’ in yer navy soon as I’m in port, sir, where I can do my best to feed yer Yankee soljers by capturin’ just such craft as that,” and he waved his hand towards the Blackfriar, while our men broke into a cheer.

The outcome of this singular interview was that Captain O’Brien and his crew actually sailed the brig into Lynn, following in the wake of the Franklin; and soon after she arrived there her commander entered our navy as a lieutenant and did loyal service for the colonies.

The frigate sailed again within a few days, but we did not go with her. By “we” I mean Captain Tucker and myself. Two or three days after his arrival in port the Captain was notified that he was to be transferred to the Hancock. He was kind enough to request that I also be transferred, a request that was promptly granted.

This transfer was for both of us a promotion, at least we so regarded it; a promotion for Captain Tucker, for the Hancock, though schooner rigged, was larger than the Franklin, and carried eight more guns and fifty more men; a promotion for myself, for though I still held only a midshipman’s commission, I was the senior officer in my rank, and on the new vessel was assigned to the duties of a third lieutenant, and received a third lieutenant’s pay. Our first officer was Lieutenant Richard Stiles, and our second Lieutenant Nicholas Ogilby.

We left port May 9th (1776), and ran up the coast for our first cruise. For a time the good fortune that had attended us when on the frigate seemed to desert us. Instead of running in with a prize immediately we sailed north as far as Cape Race without even catching sight of one. In fact it was not until we had turned our bow homeward that we discovered anything to chase. Then we ran in with the ship Peggy which eventually became ours, and proved to be the most valuable vessel and cargo we had taken. I say eventually became ours, for there were circumstances connected with her capture as singular as interesting.

We sighted her in the latitude of Halifax—just after she had left port as it afterward proved—and sailed down towards her. Soon we were near enough to see she carried eight guns, and had a score or more of men on her deck. While we watched a flag was run up to her peak, and under the glass we made out that it was similar to the one flying at our masthead—at least there was a pine tree upon it.

“She must be an American privateer,” remarked Lieutenant Stiles when Captain Tucker announced this fact.

“Then why does she set so low in the water?” the Captain queried. “There must be a heavy cargo between her decks for her to settle down like that.”

“Perhaps she has taken some prize and for some reason transferred its cargo to her own hold,” suggested Lieutenant Ogilby.

“It is possible, of course,” admitted Captain Tucker. “We will run up and speak with her.”

She was so heavily loaded we had no difficulty in overhauling her, and to Captain Tucker’s hail: “On board ship! Who are you?” there came the prompt answer: “American privateer Peggy, from Machias, Captain Edward Saunders. Who are you?”

“Continental schooner of war Hancock, Captain Samuel Tucker, on a cruise.”

“I have heard of you, Captain Tucker, and am now glad to see you,” shouted the skipper of the Peggy. “Wish I was near enough to shake hands with you. Hope you are having your usual good luck in securing prizes.”

“Thanks! but we have run in with nothing on this cruise,” said our commander. “But judging by the draught of your vessel, Captain Saunders, you have had a better fortune.”

“Yes,” was the response. “We captured a brig yesterday. But the shot we meant to send across her bow struck her in the water line. We had only time to transfer her cargo to our own hold, when she went down. We are now in no condition for a chase and so are homeward bound.”

“A safe voyage home!”

“The same to you!”

And then we sheered off and ran out to sea, while the privateer kept on down the coast. Two days later we were below the Seal Islands when our lookout reported a sail dead ahead of us.

“What does she look like!” asked Lieutenant Stiles, who at that time was in charge of the deck.

“Blast me, sir! She looks all the world like that ship Peggy,” was the old salt’s ejaculation. “Only whoever she is, she’s flying the British flag.”

I was sent aloft with my glass to see if I could make her out, but could only confirm the report of the lookout.

“Keep your eye on her, Master Dunn,” the lieutenant directed. “We’ll run down nearer to her.”

In a half-hour I called out:

“She is certainly the ship Peggy, but she is carrying the English colors. No! there she runs them down, and is hoisting the Pine Tree flag in their place. Can it be she has changed them because she has discovered we are following her?”

“It looks that way, Midshipman Dunn,” the officer assented. “I’ll report the matter to Captain Tucker.”

He immediately came on deck, climbed up to the cross-trees, and, taking the glass from my hand, looked long and searchingly at the distant sail, and then said:

“There is something strange about this, Master Dunn. She is far south of her home port. We’ll overhaul her again, and look at her papers.”

In another hour we were in hailing distance, and Captain Tucker shouted:

“Ahoy, there, privateer Peggy! How comes it we find you down here?”

“We have decided to run down to Portsmouth,” the voice of Captain Saunders answered.

“Heave to! I must have a look at your papers,” our commander then announced.

“That’s all right. I’ll bring them over at once,” was the ready response.

Then the Peggy hove to; a boat was put out, mid Captain Saunders came over to us. Greeting him politely, Captain Tucker led him down to the cabin. Then his visitor handed his papers to him. The Captain passed them on to me as his secretary, saying: “Look them over, Midshipman Dunn;” then entered into conversation with his guest.

I went carefully through the documents. They were regularly made out, and there was not the slightest reason for doubting the Peggy’s claim to be an American privateer.

“The papers are all right, sir,” I announced, “though I would rather you would pass judgment upon them.”

He smiled, and taking them glanced at them. Then he said to Captain Saunders:

“Pardon me, sir, for putting you to all this trouble. But you know the enemy is now using all sorts of means to deceive us, and we have to follow out our merest suspicions if we do not want to be outwitted.”

“That is so, Captain Tucker,” his visitor responded. “I know something about that myself. You don’t feel very well to find they have made a fool of you. But you are a sharp one, Captain. It will take a smart man to get the best of you. No apology, however, is necessary for delaying me. Really, I’m glad to have made you this brief visit,” and he arose to depart.

In a few minutes the vessels for the second time parted company.

“I wonder why the Captain did not ask him about his flying the English flag,” I remarked to Lieutenant Ogilby, to whom I had been relating what had occurred in the cabin.

“He must have forgotten it,” that officer said.

“Oh, the papers being straight, he doubtless thought it none of his business,” chimed in Lieutenant Stiles, who joined us at that moment.

Three days later we were off Cape Cod when our lookout again called out:

“Ship in sight, sir, two points off our starboard quarter.”

“Not the ship Peggy this time is it, Jake?” inquired Lieutenant Stiles, for again he happened to be in charge of the deck, while the same old salt was in the cross-trees.

“Yes, sir,” was the unexpected response. “Ship Peggy, that is what she is, sir; and she has the British flag at her peak, and is sailin’ to round the cape. Guess she’s goin’ to New York this time, sir.”

Lieutenant Stiles went up the mast at a bound, and gazed at the sail through his glass for some minutes. Then he came down as rapidly as he had gone up, and said to me as he passed on his way to the cabin:

“It’s she, Master Dunn, and she’s changed her flag again now that she has discovered our approach.”

He returned in a moment with Captain Tucker, who was as excited as himself. The look on my face as I glanced at him led him to stop abruptly and ask: “What do you think of her, Master Dunn?”

“That she is a British merchantman, bound for New York, with a cargo so valuable she is taking extraordinary means to prevent capture. She has double papers, sir, and has shown only the false ones to us.”

“I think you have struck the nail on the head this time,” he declared. “But if we again overhaul her, she won’t outwit us again.”

Possibly her captain was of a similar opinion, for he did his best to keep out of our clutches. It was clear he did not relish a third interview with Captain Tucker.

It was, however, inevitable. Gradually we came up with the craft, and a shot from our bow-chaser brought her to.

“Take the yawl and ten men with you, Lieutenant Stiles, and send Captain Saunders over here, no matter how much he may protest, while you remain there and make a thorough search of his cabin. Find everything you can to throw light on the ship’s real character,” was Captain Tucker’s command.

“Aye, aye, sir,” the officer responded in a tone that showed he relished the order; and I confess I almost envied him his assignment.

In fifteen minutes Captain Saunders was on our deck, angrily declaring that Captain Tucker’s procedure was an outrage. At that moment my arm was pulled by Bill Nye, an old sailor.

“I ax yer pardon, sir,” he said in a loud whisper, “but that ain’t Capt’n Saunders, it’s Captain John Linscot of Halifax. I’se sailed with him more’n once to the West Indies.”

“Come with me, Bill!” I said, leading him aft.

Reaching the two captains I announced:

“Captain Tucker, here’s a man who wishes to throw a little light on the question you are trying to settle.”

“What is it, Bill?” the Captain inquired, while his prisoner suddenly stopped talking and stared at the old sailor.

“I only wishes to say, sir, that I know that man. I’se sailed more’n once with him. He’s Capt’n John Linscot of Halifax.”

“Man, you are mistaken,” thundered the discomfited skipper.

“We shall soon know,” Captain Tucker remarked quietly. “Lieutenant Stiles is returning.”

A minute or two later the yawl touched the schooner’s side, and the executive officer, leaping to her deck, crossed over to where the captain was standing. Saluting him he reported:

“I find, sir, that yonder ship is not an American privateer, but an English merchantman from London to Halifax, where she changed captains and then sailed for New York. She has a cargo of muskets, pistols, ammunition, and army supplies inventoried at fifteen thousand pounds sterling.”

As he closed his report the English captain laughed.

“I admit it, Captain Tucker. I knew you were cruising off our coast, and prepared those privateer papers to outwit you, and succeeded twice. I could hardly expect to do it a third time. I congratulate you, sir, on taking the finest prize that is likely to be on these seas this season.”

“I can afford to be as magnanimous, and confess that you are the smartest Englishman I ever met,” our commander responded.

“I told you at our last interview that it took a smart man to outwit you,” the Britisher retorted, “but I don’t feel as smart as I did then.”

A hearty laugh followed and the rival captains shook hands. Then a large prize crew was put on board the Peggy, and, under the escort of the Hancock, for she was too great a treasure to send into port alone, she sailed for Lynn.

In a week we were at sea again, and a rich series of captures followed. Between that time and the next spring we took forty vessels, many of them with valuable cargoes.

Then came a prize, the thought of which makes my blood tingle even to this day. We had been into Salem with prizes. Soon after getting out to sea we caught sight of a distant sail. On approaching her we discovered by her tier of guns that she was an English frigate—much larger than the Hancock. Undismayed, Captain Tucker turned to his executive officer, saying:

“Crowd on all sail, Lieutenant Stiles. The sooner we can close in with that fellow the better.”

When this command had been obeyed, he continued:

“Have the drum beat all hands to quarters. I wish to address them.”

When we were in place, he said:

“Men of the Hancock! I suspect yonder frigate is the Fox, which for some weeks has been scourging our shores. As you see, she is larger than we are, and carries twelve more guns. I shall not therefore enter into a cannon duel with her. I shall put our vessel alongside of her and board her. The moment we touch sides I wish three different parties to be ready to leap upon her deck—one forward, one aft, and one amidships. Midshipman Dunn is to lead the first, Lieutenant Ogilby the second, and Lieutenant Magee, commander of the marines, the third.”

Noticing that the latter officer seemed to hesitate, as though he would decline the desperate office, he turned to him, saying with a smile:

“If you prefer, sir, you may take my place here, and I will lead the boarders, for she must be taken.”

“No,” replied the gallant young officer, “I will go and do my best, and if I fall, will you send these to my only sister?” and he handed the captain a ring, a watch, and a miniature.

In a few minutes, by a sudden and rapid change of the helm—for in nautical manœuvering Captain Tucker was unsurpassed by any officer in the infant navy—he laid our vessel alongside of the frigate, gun to gun, and before a shot could be fired, or a piece of ordnance brought to bear upon us, he threw his grappling irons upon her gunwale, and our boarding parties poured down upon her deck.

I can give you little idea of the terrific hand-to-hand conflict that now took place. I was a part of the battle, not a spectator of it. But I know that the intrepid Magee fell in the onset. Heading his band of marines, he leaped the bulwark, but scarcely had his feet touched the deck of the enemy before he was assailed by numbers and a sword pierced his breast.

But his death was not unavenged. Captain Tucker, seeing him fall, leaped like a lion into his place, and with his stalwart arm cut down all before him. Having made an open way across the deck for his men, he rallied them into two lines, back to back, and fought his opponents in both directions, forward and aft.

Meantime I had reached my position with my division and we drove all on the bow back to meet the dauntless Captain, while Lieutenant Ogilby and his men, charging the quarter-deck, drove the enemy forward against our commander’s second line drawn up to receive them. In this way we soon swept the deck, and the frigate struck her colors. Three rousing cheers from our brave men proclaimed the victory.