In ship and prison

I come now to an incident about which I love to write. It was the Christmas present given Captain Tucker the following December (1777). This was the brand new frigate Boston. She was presented to him in Boston, and named for that town. She carried twenty-four guns and one hundred and seventy-five men, beside her company of marines, and in her equipment surpassed any other vessel in commission at that time.

But not only was the vessel given the Captain; he was also given the privilege of selecting all of his commissioned officers. It took him a month to complete the list. Our three lieutenants were Henry Phips, Hezekiah Welch and Benjamin Bates, ranking in the order they are named. We had five midshipmen, of whom I held the senior rank. The second was Thomas Blinn, who had been with us on the Franklin and who was appointed to the new frigate at my request. The other three were new men to us, but gallant fellows who had given a good account of themselves on other vessels. They were William Day, Edward Eades, and Thomas LeMoyne.

Our master of arms was William Baker from the Hancock; and one of our boatswains was also an old friend, Joseph Lewis from the Franklin. I believe all the rest of our officers and crew were new men. We had a chaplain, Rev. Benjamin Balch, and a surgeon, Dr. Thomas Burns. The officers of our marines were Captain Seth Boxter, First Lieutenant Jeremiah Reed, Second Lieutenant William Cooper, and Sergeant Benjamin Newhall. I speak of these different officers here so that when they are hereafter alluded to in this narrative the reader may have a clear idea of their place on shipboard.

From the hour we went on board the Boston we had the feeling that she was to be assigned to some important mission. No one had said so, yet among the officers and crew alike there was a feeling of expectancy. Perhaps it was the newness of the vessel, her fine equipment, the special care taken in selecting her men and putting in of her stores that gave rise to this impression.

We went on board of the craft December 27th. The new year came, a month passed, but still we waited. The first of February an incident occurred which led us to believe the time of our sailing was drawing near. A new banner arrived for the frigate—the flag adopted by the American Congress and destined to be known ere long the world over as the emblem of liberty—the stars and stripes. Amid the cheers of our men it was unfurled from our masthead, and as in the case of the Pine Tree banner on the Franklin, so now it was my own hand that pulled the rope that set the bunting free.

Nine days later Captain Tucker was summoned before the Chairman of the Naval Committee. I now know what took place at that interview, and will relate it here.

“Sir,” the official said, “you are directed by the American Congress to receive the Honorable John Adams upon your frigate and convey him as a special envoy to France. I am also instructed to add that in some way the object of this mission to France has become known to the enemy and they have already sent a British seventy-four and two other frigates up from Newport to keep watch over this harbor and prevent if possible the departure of the vessel which is to carry the envoy. To escape a force so vigilant and formidable, and to avoid the numerous men-of-war which infest the track across the Atlantic, requires an officer of consummate skill and intrepidity. Congress has full confidence in you, and for that reason has chosen you commander of the vessel which is to perform this mission. In this document are your orders in detail, which we shall expect you to execute to the letter,” and he handed the paper to the Captain, who, receiving it, replied:

“I assure you, sir, and the other members of the Naval Committee, that I appreciate the honor conferred upon me, and shall endeavor to the best of my ability to merit the confidence you repose in me. If for any reason I fail to reach the assigned port with my distinguished passenger, it will not be because I have been unfaithful to my trust.”

On the 16th day of the month Master Adams was received on board of the Boston with all the honors of his high position; and on the 17th, at seven P. M., we weighed anchor at the Nantasket Roads, and proceeded to sea, with the stripes and stars waving to a fine northwestern breeze, and with the firing of a salute of seven guns.

At the beginning of the log-book of that voyage, which now lies before me, are the words written in Captain Tucker’s own hand: “Pray God conduct me safe to France, and send me a prosperous voyage.” This brief but all inclusive prayer was granted, but not without some mishaps, and some occasions for doubt and fear.

Our departure at nightfall had been purposely arranged to slip by the watching frigates at the mouth of the bay under the cover of the darkness. Without a light we moved swiftly down the harbor, and when below Long Island were able to make out the lights of the three English vessels, a mile or two apart, and sailing to and fro in a way to intercept any craft that might attempt to leave the haven by the usual routes.

The seventy-four was farthest north, and her great draught prevented her from running within two miles of the shore. Captain Tucker, who stood near the helm, was quick to notice this fact, and gave orders to sail the Boston between the great frigate and the land. Possibly the Britisher was not expecting a vessel so large as the Boston to take this course, and so kept no special lookout in that direction; or it may be that the absence of lights rendered our ship invisible at that distance in the darkness. For some reason we made the passage in safety, and in an hour were well out to sea.

In some way, however, the enemy must have learned of our departure for on the 19th at six P. M., we saw three large ships to the east of us, bearing the British flag and concluded that they were the ones watching especially for us. Captain Tucker at once gave orders for our frigate to haul away to the south-west, and so far as we were able to detect in the darkness we were not pursued. Early the next morning the captain called all of his commissioned officers into consultation, and, as the enemy were nowhere in sight, it was decided to return to our original course. We had run but an hour to the northward, however, when we caught sight of two of the pursuing frigates—one of twenty guns, the other, like ourselves, of twenty-four guns. But almost immediately the man at the masthead called out:

“Ship of war on our weather quarter, sir!”

In a short time we were confident it was the English seventy-four. This settled the fact that our enemies were both persistent and vigilant, and would intercept us if they could.

Another consultation was therefore held to which Master Adams was invited, and our situation was freely discussed. Not knowing how fast the Boston would sail, it was concluded to stand away again for the south-west, and at ten A. M., we wore ship and proceeded in that direction. The three Britishers promptly changed their courses, and pursued us.

At noon we had lost sight of the smaller vessel; at two o’clock we set our fore and maintop mast steering sail, and soon found we were leaving the other vessels behind. At six we had lost sight of them in the darkness.

An anxious night followed. We were running at the rate of seven knots an hour, and we had reason to believe that the other vessels were making as good a pace. Would they continue on their present course throughout the night? If so, could we not by dropping off a point or two throw them off our track? These and similar questions arose in the mind not only of our commander, but also in the minds of all of our officers.

Double watches were kept on the deck. Captain Tucker never left it. For three hours we held to the course we had been following before nightfall. Then we fell off a little, though it reduced our speed to six knots. We ran on the new course for another three hours, and then to our chagrin our lookout reported the lights of a large ship almost directly ahead of us. It was evident that while we had shaken off the smaller frigate, the seventy-four was still on our trail.

We could not weather her on our present course, so we hove in stays and stood to the westward. She followed us. For an hour or two we held to the new direction, then we suddenly hove in stays again, and passed her to the windward, and about four miles off.

But she detected the movement, and changing her own course, continued to chase us. Again tacking ship, we soon had the satisfaction of knowing we had at last struck a course in which the Boston was distancing her enemy, and when morning dawned she was out of sight, and we saw no further trace of her.

But barely had we escaped one danger when we ran in with another. A north-east gale swept down upon us, and for nine days we battled with wind and rain and sleet and snow, and were compelled at times to heave to, and at other times to sheer around and run before the storm. I do not think we gained a hundred miles on our way during the tempest.

Then came gentle breezes from the south, the temperature moderated, the snow and ice that had encased us disappeared, and we made fair progress towards our destination.

One day during this spring-like weather, we sighted a vessel to the south-east, which was standing to the west. We changed our course to intercept her, and in a short time were able to make out that she was a large merchantman, carrying twelve guns.

There was no question but that she also saw us; and seeing us, she must have known that we were larger than she, and mounted two guns to her one. Yet she made no attempt to escape us, or, for that matter, to come up with us. She simply kept on her way. When a little nearer, however, we noticed that her plucky commander was preparing himself for an attack. All hands had been piped to their stations. His guns were being shotted, and made ready for firing. His attitude said as plainly as words: “Let me alone, and I’ll let you alone. But if you attack me, you’ll find me ready. I shall defend myself to the best of my ability.” Though we had not yet spoken a word with him, he inspired us with a feeling of profoundest respect.

Had we been without our distinguished passenger, we should have hastened to the attack. But our first duty was to care for his safety, though there had been nothing in Captain Tucker’s orders to prevent him from taking a prize if she fell in his way. Confident that the ship ahead of him must contain a valuable cargo, or she would not be so heavily armed, our commander felt it would be a grave mistake to allow her to pass unmolested. Yet he would not assume the responsibility of attempting her capture alone. He therefore called Master Adams and his officers into council, frankly stating his wish to seize the magnificent ship now in sight.

Master Adams was the first to speak when he had stated the case:

“If I were not here, Captain Tucker,” he said, “you would not hesitate at all in making the attack, would you?”

“Not an instant,” acknowledged the captain.

“Then consider that I am not here, and go ahead,” continued the brave envoy. “I agree with you that yonder vessel must have a fine cargo, or she would not take along twelve guns and at least two score men to protect it. If so valuable to her government, it is more valuable to us. We should not miss the opportunity to make it ours.”

That settled the matter, and instantly the frigate was alive with activity. The men were drummed to their stations; the reefs were shaken out of our top-sails; the guns were made ready for action; the marines were drawn up amidships ready to rake the deck of the enemy with their muskets; and away we dashed in pursuit of the craft.

Having executed my last order, I paused a moment to glance about me. What a fine appearance the frigate made when ready for battle! How earnest and reliant our men seemed! For an instant I was lost in admiration of the scene, and then my attention was diverted. I saw Master Adams seize a musket, and take his place with the marines. Evidently he was going to take part in the fray. But the Captain discovered him a little later, and stepping up to him and placing his hand on his shoulder, he said with a voice of authority:

“Master Adams, I am commanded by the Continental Congress to deliver you safe in France, and you must go below, sir.”

Master Adams smiled, and went down to the cabin, but with such evident reluctance our men broke into a cheer.

By this time we were well up with the ship, and our skipper by one of those quick manœuvers for which he was noted put his own vessel into the position he desired. His guns were ready, his men were at their posts, the match stocks were smoking and yet he hesitated to give the order to fire. At this delay the crew grew impatient, and, seeing so fine a chance to strike a fatal blow passing, they began to murmur. Then Captain Tucker cried out in a loud voice:

“Hold on, my men! I wish to save that egg without breaking the shell!”

Nor were they compelled to hold on long, for the commander of the merchantman, plucky as he was, saw the advantageous position our frigate was in, and how desperate his own chance was, and so he struck his colors without our firing a gun.