Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors: Tales of 1812 Read online

  THE COWARD

  He said that he had been impressed into the English service from thebrig _Susan Butler_, of New York. But what grounds the boarding officerhad taken in supposing him to be a British subject would puzzle most.The cocked-hats generally left a merchant vessel's side with the pickof the unfortunate crew. The qualifications necessary for a peaceableYankee merchant sailor to change his vocation and become a servant ofKing George were plain and simple in 1810: ruddy cheeks--crisp curlinghair--youth, health, and strength, why! of English birth and parentagemost certainly! What use the papers stating that his name was EsekCobb, or Hezekiah Brown? His home port or natal town Portsmouth, N.H.,Bath, Me., or Baltimore? He spoke the mother tongue; he was an A.B. Hisservices were needed to fight old England's enemies, and away he wouldgo in the stern sheets of the press boat, bitter curses on his lips andirons on his wrists.

  But this straight-haired, Indian-featured, narrow-shouldered half-manwho stood there on the _Constitution's_ deck, with his soaked, scantyclothes, clinging to his thin, big-jointed limbs, why in the name ofthe Lion or the Unicorn, or the Saint or the Dragon, for that matter,had they chosen him? He told his tale in a low, whimpering voice, withhis eyes shifting from one deck-seam to another--Five years in theRoyal British Navy!--Five years of glorious service of the one whorules the common heritage of all the peopled earth--Five years ofspirit-murdering slavery.

  Not six cable-lengths away, a dark shape against the lights of thetown, lay the great ship from whose side he had lowered himself in thedarkness to swim to the shelter of the smart, tall-sparred frigate,over whose taffrail he had watched his country's flag swinging in thesunlight, tempting him all the day. He had fought against the swiftlyrunning tide until at last--just as his strength had left him--he hadbeen hauled on board by the anchor watch, and now his one prayer wasthat they would not give him up. The men who stood about lookedpityingly at his shivering figure. A middy, attracted by the commotion,had hastened aft to find the officer of the deck. The forecastle peoplemurmured among themselves.

  "Captain Hull won't give you up, lad," said one, laying his hand on thepoor fellow's shoulder.

  "This ship is not the _Chesapeake_," said another; "don't ye fear,man."

  "Here's the Leftenant," put in another--"'tention!"

  "What's going on here?" asked a low voice.

  The sailor who had last spoken touched his cap.

  "I was down making the running-boat fast to the boom, sir, when I hearsa faint cry, and I sees a man in the water just alongside, sir. I layshold of him, and thinkin' it's one of our crew, sir, we gets himquietly at the forechains; then we sees as how he ain't one of us,sir,--he says."

  "That'll do; let him speak for himself. Where did you come from, myman?"

  "From the _Poictiers_, yonder, sir. For the sake of mercy don't give meup!"

  "Are you an American?"

  "Yes, sir; God's truth, I am."

  "Your name?"

  "McGovern, sir."

  "Where were you born, McGovern?"

  The stern, matter-of-fact inquiry could scarce conceal the pity in thetone; but it was the officer-voice speaking.

  "In Water Street, New York, sir, not far from the big church--Oh, forthe love of----"

  "You speak like an Irishman."

  "My parents were Irish, your honor, but I was born in the little housefourth from the corner. You won't let them---- Oh, God help me!"

  The sturdy rocking beat of oars near to hand off the port quartercaused an interruption. The fugitive gave a quick glance full of terrorin the direction of the sound; then he dropped forward upon his knees;his whimpering changed to a hoarse weeping whisper.

  "Don't give me up; I'd rather die--save me--save me," he croaked.

  One of the watch came hurrying aft. "There's a cutter here at thegangway," he said in a low voice, saluting the Lieutenant.

  "Very good, my lad," responded the latter. "Take this man below, givehim dry clothes and a place to sleep."

  Two men helped the abject creature to his feet and led him sobbing tothe forward hatchway. The Lieutenant stepped to the side.

  "On board the cutter there," he called, "what do you want at this hourof night?" Well he knew, and he spoke as if the answer had been given.

  "On board the frigate," was the reply. "We're looking for a deserter;he started to swim off to you; has he reached here?"

  The Lieutenant disdained deception. "We fished a half drowning man outof the water a few minutes since," he replied quietly, leaning over thegangway railing.

  "He's a deserter from my ship; I'll be obliged if you will hand himover.--This is Lieutenant Colson, of the _Poictiers_."

  "Sorry not to grant Lieutenant Colson's request; the man claimsprotection as an American. Captain Hull will have to look into thematter.--This is Lieutenant Morris, of the _Constitution_."

  "I should like to see Captain Hull at once. In bow there, make fast tothe gangway."

  "Hold hard, sir. The Captain is asleep; I cannot waken him."

  "I demand you do--you are in one of His Majesty's ports."

  "I know that well enough--keep off the side, sir." There was a moment'ssilence, and then the same level tone was heard addressing some one onthe deck. "Call the guard; let no one come on board the ship to-night."

  There was the sound of some movement on the _Constitution's_ deck;the fast ebb tide clopped and gurgled about the vessel's countermirthfully. The Englishman, standing erect in the stern sheets of thelittle cutter bobbing against the frigate's side, hesitated.

  "On board the frigate, there!"

  "Well, sir, in the cutter!"

  "Heark'ee! You'll repent this rashness, I can warrant you that, myfriend; you will pay high for your damned Yankee insolence, mark mywords. Shove off there forward" (this to the bowman)--"shove off there,you clumsy fool! Let fall!"

  There had been no reply from the bulwarks to the Englishman's burst oftemper; but Lieutenant Morris stood there drumming with his fingers onthe hilt of his sword, and looking out into the darkness. Then an oddsmile that was near to being scornful crossed his face, and he turnedquietly and began the slow swinging pace up and down the quarter-deck.That Captain Hull would sanction and approve his conduct, he did nothave the least suspicion of a doubt; if not on general principles, onaccount of a certain specific reason--to be told in a few shortwords:--

  It had happened that three days previous to the very evening, a steward,who had been accused of robbing the ward-room mess of liquor, andincidentally of drunkenness arising from the theft, was up forpunishment--somehow he had managed to take French leave by jumpingout of a lower port. He had been picked up by the running-boat of theflagship. At once he had claimed to be a subject of King George, and,needless to record, the statement was accepted without question--whetherhe was or not bore little weight, and cuts no figure in this tale.Suffice it: Captain Hull's polite request for the man's return waslaughed at, very openly laughed at, and the Admiral's reply was athinly veneered sneer--why, the very idea of such a thing!

  Now here was a chance for that soul-satisfying game of turn and turnabout. Lieutenant Morris, as he paced the broad quarter-deck, felt surehe had voiced Captain Hull's feelings, and then he began a littlemental calculation, and as he did so, slightly quickened his stride,and came a few paces further forward until he was opposite the portgangway. There he stopped and looked out at the swinging anchor lights.Six hundred odd guns against forty-four! And then there were the landbatteries and the channel squadron probably outside. But actually, whatmattered the odds? On the morrow there was going to be something totalk about, that was fact, and Lieutenant Morris smiled as brave men dowhen they look forward to contest, and know they have right with them.The poor, whimpering dog who had claimed protection was probably notworth his salt, and was certainly not needed; but rather than give himup, Isaac Hull would go to the bottom (in his very best, brand-newuniform, Morris knew that well enough), and with him would go fourhundred sturdy lads by the right of their own manly choice. r />
  "And egad they'd have company," Morris reasoned out loud, with thatstrange smile of his.

  Captain Hull heard the news and all about it at breakfast, and the onlysign that it interested him in the least was the fact that he rubbedhis heavy legs in their silk stockings (he generally wore silk in port)contentedly together beneath the table, and disguised a wide smile witha large piece of toast.

  "Have the man given a number and assigned to a watch, Mr. Morris," washis only comment to the Lieutenant's story.

  That was simple enough. But the heavy, red-faced Commodore, althoughprone to extravagant indulgence in expansive shirt frills, jewelry, andgold lace, usually went at matters in the simplest manner and after themost direct fashion. There did not appear to be any question on thispresent occasion; he to all appearances dismissed the subject from hismind; but Morris knew better--"Wait," said he to himself, "and we willsee what we will see." And although this is the tritest remark in theworld, it was more or less fitting, as will be shortly proved.

  At nine o'clock a letter arrived from the English Admiral. It wascouched in the usual form, it was full of "best compliments," andbristled with references to "courtesy and distinguished conduct in thepast," and it was signed "Obd't servant." But it said and meant plainlyenough: "Just take our advice and hand this fellow over, CaptainHull,--right away please, no delay; don't stop for anything. Hedeserves to be abolished for presuming that he has a country that willprotect him."

  The word had flown about the decks that the English cutter wasalongside with a message from the flagship. The crew had all tumbled upfrom below, and a hum of voices arose from the forecastle.

  "Bill Roberts, here, he was on watch when they hauled 'im on board,warent ye, Bill?--I seed him when they brought 'im below--he had theshakes bad, didn't he, Bill?" The speaker was a short, thickset man,who had a way of turning his head quickly from side to side as hespoke. His long, well-wrapped queue that hung down his back would whipacross from one shoulder to the other.

  "We thought it was one of yesterday's liberty party trying to get backto the ship," responded the man addressed as Bill. "But when we got himon deck we seed as how he warent one of us, as I told the First Luf.Did you see his back, Tom, when we peeled his shirt off?"

  "God a' mercy! I seed it."

  Well those marks were known. Deep red scars, crisscrossed with heavy,unhealed, blue-rimmed cuts, feverish and noisome.

  "He was whipped through the fleet ten days ago. So he says. I don'tknow what for, exactly; says he found a midshipman's handkerchief ondeck, and not knowin' whose 'was, put it into his ditty box--some suchyarn.--Jack here, he tells of somethin' like that, when he wasimpressed out of the _Ariadne_ into the old _Southampton_, don't ye,Jack?"

  "Yes, but damn the yarn--this fellow--where is he now?" asked a tall,light-haired foretopman, around whose muscular throat was tattooed achain and locket, the latter with a very red-cheeked and exceedinglyblue-eyed young person smiling out through the opening in his shirt.

  "He's hidin' somewhere down in the hold, I reckon," answered a little,nervous man; "nobody could find him this morning; guess he's had allthe spunk licked out of him."

  "I've heard tell of that before," remarked the tall foretopman. "Hisspirit's broke."

  Just at this moment the English Lieutenant who had borne the messagefrom the Admiral hurried up from the cabin where he had been inconsultation with Captain Hull. His face was very red, and he gave ahasty glance at the crowded forecastle, as if trying to enumerate themen and their quality. Then he hastened down the side, and when he hadrowed off some dozen strokes he gave the order to cease rowing. Thenstanding up he looked back at the frigate he had left, taking in allher points, the number of her guns, and marking her heavy scantlingwith a critic's eye. Then he seated himself again, and pulled away forthe flagship.

  His departure had been watched by four hundred pairs of eyes, and thislast act of his had not been passed by unnoticed.

  "Takin' our measure," observed Bill Roberts, cockswain of the Captain'sgig, turning to Tom Grattan, the thickset, black-headed captain of themaintop. The latter grinned up at him.

  "There'll be the Divil among the tailors," he said.

  The tall foretopman, who was standing near by, folded his heavy armsacross his chest.

  "We'll have some lively tumbling here in about a minute, take my wordfor that, mates," he chuckled, "or my name's not Jack Lange"; and as hespoke, Captain Hull, followed by all of his lieutenants, came up ondeck. The Captain turned and spoke a few words to Mr. Cunningham, theship's master. The latter, followed by three or four midshipmen,hurried forward. Some of the men advanced to meet him.

  "All of you to your stations," he ordered quietly. "Gunners, prepare tocast loose and provide port and starboard main-deck guns. The reststand by ready to make sail if we get a wind off shore."

  He gave the orders for the capstan bars to be fitted, and turning tothe ship armorer he told him to provide cutlasses and small-arms forthe crew.

  Quietly boarding-nettings were made ready to be spread, the magazineswere opened, even buckets of sand were brought and placed about; sandto be used in case the decks became too slippery from the blood. Downin the cockpit the doctor had laid out his knives and saws on thetable. In five minutes the _Constitution_ had been prepared foraction. And all this had been accomplished without a sound, without ashouted order or the shrilling of a pipe!

  Captain Hull inspected ship. Silent, deep-breathing men watched him ashe passed along. At every division he stopped and said a few words."Lads, we are not going to give this man up upon demand. Remember the_Chesapeake_. We are going to defend ourselves if necessary, andbe ready for it." He made the same speech in about the same words atleast half a dozen times. Then he went into his cabin and donned hisbest new uniform, with a shining pair of bullion epaulets. This done,he gave a touch to his shirt frills before the glass and went on deck.

  Signals were flying in the British fleet, and now the forts weredisplaying little lines of striped bunting. There was scarce breezeenough to toss them in the air. The sleepy old town of Portsmouthlooked out upon the harbor. Soon it might be watching a sight that itnever would forget. Perhaps history would be made here in the next fewminutes, and all this time the fugitive lay cowering among thewater-butts in the mid-hold.

  A breeze sprang up by noon, and the two nearest vessels of the fleet, athirty-eight-gun frigate, and a razee of fifty, slipped their mooringsand came down before it. A hum of excitement ran through the Yankeeship. There was not sufficient wind to move her through the water; butthe capstan was set agoing, and slowly she moved up to her anchor. Asthe smaller English vessel drifted down, it was seen that her men wereat quarters. It was the same with the razee. But without a hail theydropped their anchors, one on each side of the _Constitution's_ bows,at about the distance of a cable's length. There they waited, in grimsilence. The men made faces at one another, and grimaced and gesturedthrough the open ports. The officers, gathered in groups aft, paid noattention to their neighbors.

  There followed more signalling. A twelve-oared barge left the flagshipfor the admiralty pier. From the direction of the town came the soundsof a bugle and the steady thrumming of drums. A long red line trailedby one of the street corners. Already crowds began to gather on thehousetops and the water-front. Some clouds formed in the west thatlooked as if a breeze might be forthcoming. Hull watched the skyanxiously.

  The midday meal was served with the men still at their posts. There wasno movement made on either side. Toward evening the wind came. Nosooner had it ruffled the surface of the water than the _Constitution_,whose cable had been up and down all the day, lifted her anchor fromthe bottom, and with her main topsail against the mast, she backed awayfrom her close proximity to her neighbors. Then, turning on her heel,she pointed her bow for the harbor mouth. It was necessary for her tosail past every vessel in the fleet. Drums rolled as she approached.Men could be seen scurrying to and fro, and as she passed by theflagship, a brand-new seventy-four, he
r three tiers of guns frownedevilly down, and a half-port dropped with a clatter. A sigh of reliefwent up as the _Constitution_ passed by unchallenged.

  There were but three vessels now to pass,--a sloop of war, a largebrig, and a forty-four-gun frigate that lay well to the mouth ofthe harbor. The latter, apparently in obedience to signals, wasgetting in her anchor and preparing to get under way; but before the_Constitution_ had reached her the breeze died down, and beforetwilight was over it was dead calm. Hull dropped his anchor, and closebeside him, the Englishman dropped his. He was at least two minuteslonger taking in his topsails. It continued calm throughout the earlywatches of the night. At three o'clock in the morning there was a soundof many oars. The officers were on the alert. "They are coming down toattack us in small boats," suggested one of the junior lieutenants. Butsoon it was perceived that such was not the intention, for in the dimlight the big brig could be seen approaching, towed by a dozen boat'screws working at the oars. There was no reason for longer maintainingany secrecy, and Hull called his crew to quarters in the usual fashion.The sounds might have been heard on shore; but the brig, when she hadonce reached a berth on the American's quarter, dropped her anchorquietly.

  With the gray of morning came a new wind from the westward, and with itthe _Constitution_ slipped out of port, the two vessels that hadmenaced her all night long not making a movement to prevent her going.Once well out in the channel, the feeling of suspense was succeeded byone of relief and joy. The fugitive, soaked with bilge water, shiveringand hungry, emerged from his hiding-place as he felt the movement ofthe vessel's sailing.

  "How is that man McGovern doing?" asked Captain Hull of LieutenantMorris, who was dining with him in the cabin. "He ought to be of someuse after the trouble and worry he has caused us."

  "I'm sorry to say he isn't," responded Morris, shrugging his shoulders."He isn't worth powder. Why, even the forecastle boys cuff him aboutand bully him! He not only lacks spirit, but he is one of those men, Ithink, who are somehow born cowards. But he has been a sailor at sometime or other, I take it, although he told me that he was only cook'shelper in the galley on board the _Poictiers_. That's his billet now onboard of us, by the way."

  It was true: McGovern not only bore the name of a coward, but he lookedit, every inch of him. His shifty eyes would lift up for an instant,and then slide away. His elbow was always raised as if to ward off ablow. He acted as if he expected to have things thrown at him. Heinvited ill treatment by his every look, and he received many blows,and many things were thrown at him. And the unthinking made fun of allthis, and used him for their dirty work, and he did not resent it. Hetook orders from the powder-monkeys, and cringed to the steeragesteward. As to the officers and midshipmen, he trembled when theyapproached him, and after they had passed he would spring forward andhide somewhere, panting, as if he had escaped some danger. The sight ofthe boatswain deprived him of the power of speech. He acted like a curthat had been whipped, and in fact he lived a dog's life. And yet forthis man, those who despised him would have gone to the bottom. Aye,and cheerfully, for behind him lay the question soon to be cause enoughfor the shedding of much blood.

  When the _Constitution_ reached New York, McGovern disappeared.

  * * * * *

  It was early in the month of June, 1812. There was evidence of afeeling of great uneasiness that prevailed throughout the length andbreadth of the country. In the coffee-houses and taverns, at thecorners of the streets, in the gatherings in drawing-room or kitchen,there was but one subject talked about--the approaching war withEngland. It was inevitable, naught could prevent it, was the opinion ofsome; while others, more cautious, saw nothing in the approachingstrife but the dimming of the American star of commerce which hadarisen, and death to progress in arts and manufactures. Their flagwould be swept from off the sea; the little navy of a handful of shipswould have to be dragged up into the shallows, and there dismantled andperhaps never be set afloat again. Little did they know of the gloriousepoch awaiting. The makers of it were the sailormen in whose cause thecountry was soon to rise.

  Jack Lange was hurrying along Front Street; he had been transferredfrom the _Constitution_ to the _Wasp_. It was but a moment before thathe had landed. He had the tall water-roll in his gait. He was veryjaunty in appearance, with his clean, white breeches very much belledat the bottom, his short blue jacket and glazed cap, and from the smileon his face one could see that he was very well pleased with himself.The half-fathom of ribbon that hung over his left ear wouldoccasionally trail out behind like a homing pennant. He was bound forBrownjohn's wharf, where he knew he might fall in with some of his oldmessmates and gather up the news. As he luffed sharp about a corner hepassed some one hurrying in the opposite direction. It was a man ofabout thirty years of age. His arms were held stiff at his side, andhis face was twitching nervously. His eyes were rolling in excitement.Jack Lange turned, and lifting one hand to the side of his mouth, heshouted: "Ship ahoy, there!" The other man whirled quickly, and the twostood looking at one another for an instant before either spoke. Thenthe big sailor advanced.

  "What's the hurry, messmate?" he said. "This is McGovern, isn't it?Don't you remember me?"

  "Sure I remember you," returned the other in a voice with a touch of arich brogue. "Have you heard the news?" he added suddenly, his handtrembling as he touched Lange on the arm.

  "What is it--about war?" asked Jack, eagerly.

  "Aye, the war, d'ye mind that? There'll be great doings before long!"

  "I suppose they'll lay the navy up in ordinary, and we poor fellowswill join the sorefoots with a musket over our shoulders."

  "Not a bit of it; they're going to outfit and sail to meet 'em,"responded McGovern. "I'm off to tell my folks."

  The news was all about the town. People were running hither andthither, clapping on their hats, women called to one another from thewindows of the houses, crowds commenced to gather. Suddenly Jackhesitated. Surely it was a cheer, a rousing, sailors' cheer, off to theleft down the alley! He listened again, and giving a hitch to hisbreeches, he started in a lumbering, clumsy gait, swinging his capabout his head. "Hurray!" he bellowed at top lung as he saw in a crowdgathered before one of the little taverns the uniforms of some of the_Constitution's_ men, and recognized also Bill Roberts, and his oldmessmate Grattan.

  When the _Wasp_ sailed again, she carried between her decks as fine acrew as ever hauled a rope or manned a yard. Some of the men who hadserved on board the _Constitution_ now swung their hammocks in thecrowded forecastle of the little sloop.

  Grattan and Roberts were in the same watch, the port, which was incharge of young Lieutenant James Biddle. Jack Lange was in the otherwatch, and with him were two of the _Constitution's_ men,--the little,black-eyed gunner, and a heavy, thickset man, who at first glanceappeared to be too fat and clumsy ever to be a topman; yet he was, andone of the best.

  Lange was stowing away his hammock but a few hours after the _Wasp_ hadgotten under way, when the short, thickset man approached him.

  "D'ye see who is on board with us?" he asked. He pointed forward.

  There, sitting with his back against the bulwarks was the Coward, hiseyes staring straight before him, and his fingers and toes--for he wasbare-footed--working nervously. Soon there came an order to shortensail. There was a scramble to the shrouds, and among the first to reachthem was McGovern. Close beside him was the fat topman.

  "Out of the way, you swab!" he cursed, striking out with his elbow."This is man's work," he added. "Out of the way, can't you!"

  The hot blood rushed to McGovern's face. He hesitated. At that momentsome one pushed him from behind, and before he knew it he had beenhustled off the bulwarks to the deck. Without a glance behind him heslunk down the hatchway. And so he went back to rinsing the dishes inthe galley.

  Inside of three months the _Wasp_ was back in port again. Once moreMcGovern disappeared. No one missed him, and no one thought about it.

  On the 13th of Octobe
r Captain Jacob Jones set sail again in his trimvessel, but just before the _Wasp_ had left her moorings a boat rowedwith quick, nervous strokes put out from shore. The man at the oars wasdoing his best to catch the sloop of war before she should gainheadway. In the stern sheets sat an old woman. Now and then she wouldencourage the man pulling at the oars. There was a short, choppy sea,and both figures in the little boat were soaked with spray.

  Suddenly the topsails filled, the headsails blew out with a vicioussnap, and just as the sloop lurched forward, the little boat wasabreast the forechains. The man dropped the oars, and, springingoutboard, managed to catch the lower shroud; with agility he hauledhimself up arm's length and sprawled over the bulwarks, down on deck.It was McGovern, and his strange coming on board had been observed bymany. He arose quickly and gaining the shrouds once more, he waved hishand. "Good-by, mither!" he cried, and then he turned back to greet aburst of laughter. But all hands were too busy with the getting underway to pay much attention to him, and he disappeared below.

  The next morning it blew a heavy gale, and for four days the windlasted, and even after the danger had passed the day broke with a heavyswell on the sea and the weather yet boisterous. The _Wasp's_ previouscruise had been uneventful. She had failed to fall in with the enemy,and now this continued stress of weather made the sailors, ever proneto find reasons in their superstitions, to think that they must haveaboard with them a Jonah; some one who brought ill luck, and why theyshould have settled upon poor McGovern it would be hard to tell.Perhaps he was ignorant of the reason for the new meaning of the looksof dislike and suspicion that were cast at him, or perhaps he failed tonotice them. At any rate he made no comment.

  Surely it was not his fault if the second day out, during the height ofthe storm, the jibboom had carried away, and two of the starboard watchwent with it and were lost.

  There was a great deal of excitement attending this particulardaybreak, the morning of the 18th, for the night before, after theclouds had cleared away and the stars had shone brightly forth, severallarge sails had been reported to the eastward. Captain Jones had laidhis course to get to windward of them, so as to have the weather-gagewhen day came. The vessels had disappeared as the weather had thickeneda little, and now all hands had gathered on deck, and the sloop wasromping along through the slight drizzle, almost dipping her yard armsat times in the heavy seas that raced past.

  "There they are.--Sails off the lee bow, two points away!" shouted alookout from the forecastle. It had cleared a trifle, and there theywere, sure enough, seven vessels, and nearer to, was a trim man-of-warbrig. She was edging up slowly, taking in sail as she did so, and the_Wasp_ swung off to meet her.

  "English, begad!" exclaimed Captain Jones. "Have the drummer beat toquarters, Mr. Biddle, as soon as you get down the topgallant yard andshorten sail."

  "Very good, sir.--Hello, she shows the Spanish flag."

  "Never mind that; she's English, I'll bet a thousand."

  Biddle bawled out the orders, and the usual helter-skelter rush, fromwhich emerges such careful work and such wonderful precision, followed.But the first man to gain the weather shrouds this time was McGovern.Since the news that the enemy had been sighted had been passed below,he had been very much in evidence. Instead of his greasy scullion'srags, he wore a clean suit of canvas. His white shirt was trimmed withblue silk, and his long hair, that usually straggled down his cheeks,was twisted into a neat queue down his back. He paid no attention tothe questions addressed to him, took no heed of the merriment (for menwill jest on strange occasions); but kept his eyes shifting from thegroup of officers on the quarter-deck, to the oncoming vessel that wasplunging heavily in the great seas. When he had seen the Spanish flag,his face had fallen; but Bill Roberts was standing close beside him.

  "Never mind that, my lads!" he roared to those about him. "No one but aJohn Bull or a Yankee would bring his ship along like that; take myword for it, my hearties!" and then had come the order to shorten sail.

  McGovern was across the deck like a shot, at least three feet inadvance of the next man, who, as luck would have it, was the short, fattopman before referred to. Whatever he may have thought was McGovern'sproper sphere and natural instincts, it required but a glance to showthat he knew what he was about as he started clearing away the parellashings and then unreeving the running-gear. It requires but two menat the masthead to make fast the downhauls and look out for the lifts,and on this occasion there were two pairs of skilful hands at work. Theolder seamen looked into McGovern's face wonderingly; but the latterwas going silently about his work, occasionally looking out across therolling white of the sea at the little brig that would soon be withingunshot. He could plainly make out the red coats of the marines groupedalong the rail. "Sway away!" and the topgallant yards came safely downto the deck. The men were at quarters now, and the matches werelighted.

  "Well done, McGovern!" exclaimed the fat sailor, with a shamefacedsmile. "Well done, McGovern!" called one of the midshipmen, graspinghim by the arm. "Here, take No. 2 at this twelve-pounder. Do you knowthe orders, lad?"

  "Yes, sir, yes," answered the Coward, excitedly. "I was captain of agun once, o' truth I was."

  But a pistol shot's distance now separated the two vessels. CaptainJones hailed through his trumpet. Down came the Spanish flag, and therewas the red cross of England! The brig let go a broadside; but justbefore she did so, the sound of a cheer had come down on the wind.

  There is no time to describe the details of the action. But few of the_Wasp's_ crew had been in actual combat before. Soon there were deepred spots on the deck; there were groans and curses, and much sulphursmoke. Occasionally the muzzles of the guns would dip deep into thewater as the _Wasp_ hove down into the hollow of the surge. A sharpcrack aloft, and down came the main topmast, and with it fell thetopsail yard. It tangled in the braces, and rendered the headsailsuseless. The Englishman was playing havoc with the rigging, braces,and running-gear of the _Wasp_. Grape and round shot were manglingeverything aloft.

  There had been a few men in the foretop when the action had commenced.One of them was Roberts. Suddenly glancing up from his gun, McGovernsaw a sight that made him start and cry out, pointing. There was Billtrying weakly to haul himself over the edge of the top. Blood wasrunning from a wound in his forehead, and his left arm hung useless;his leg was hurt also. But he was still alive and dimly conscious. At asudden lurch of the vessel, he almost pitched forward down to the deck.Then as McGovern watched him, he appeared to give up hope, and,twisting his hand into the bight of a rope, he lay there withoutmoving. But no man could live there long! Splinters were flying fromthe masts; blocks were swinging free and dashing to and fro; new holeswere being torn every second in the roaring, flapping sails. It mayhave been that no one else had time to think about it; but McGovern didnot hesitate. He threw down the sponge and jumped into the slackenedshrouds.

  "Carefully he lowered away."]

  "Come out of that, you fool!" somebody shouted at him from below; buthe did not pause. A round shot whizzed by his elbow. A musket-ballcarried away a ratline above his head, just as he reached forward. Hefelt as if a hot flame had licked across his shoulder, and in aninstant more his white shirt was white no longer, and was clinging tohis back. But it was nothing but a graze, and, undaunted, he kept onascending. He hauled himself into the top. There lay a dead marine,shot through the temple. Now he bent over the prostrate sailor. Yes, hewas alive! Roberts was breathing faintly. Despite the interest andexcitement of the action men were watching him from below. But he mustwork fast if he was to save a life--a bullet at any time might completethe work already begun. He tried to lift the heavy figure on to hisshoulders, but found he could not. But good fortune! One of thehalliards had been shot away aloft, and hung dangling across the yard.McGovern saw the opportunity. Passing the bitter end of it aroundRoberts' body, close underneath the arms, he made it fast. Then passingthe rest of it through the shrouds he gave first a heave that swung theprostrate figure clear of the blood-stained
top, and then carefully helowered away until at last the body reached the deck.

  Somehow the musket-balls had stopped their humming through the upperrigging, and even the firing of the _Wasp_ had slackened, as McGovern,reaching for one of the stays, rode down it safely and reached thedeck. And now occurred a thing that has been unchronicled, and yet hashad its parallel in many instances of history. A cheer arose, a strong,manly cheer,--it came from across the water; it preceded by an instantthe roaring of the hoarse voices close about him. But McGovern's earhad caught it.

  "Hark!" he cried, pushing his way forward to reach his station. "Hark,they're cheerin'! They must have thought we've struck. We'll show 'em!"He picked up his sponge again.

  Now the firing became incessant. Steadily as the blows of a hammer weredelivered the telling shots from the _Wasp's_ port divisions. Theflames of powder scorched the enemy's bows. All at once there came acrash. The jibboom of the Englishman swept across the deck, tearingaway the shrouds and braces, and then with a heave and a lurch thevessels came together, grinding and crunching with a sound ofsplintering and tearing of timbers as they rolled in the heavy sea.

  There was not a man on board the _Wasp_ that did not expect to seethe English sailors come swarming over the bow of their vessel, anddrop down to fight in the old-fashioned way, hand to hand and eye toeye. But there must have been some delay. For an instant there was asilence except for the ripping of the Englishman's bow against the_Wasp's_ quarter. But the red-crossed flag was still flying.

  Captain Jones saw his opportunity. The enemy lay in so fair a positionto be raked that some of the _Wasp's_ guns extended through her bowports. The men, who, without waiting for orders had caught up cutlassesand boarding-pikes, were ordered back to their stations, and at suchclose quarters the broadside that followed shattered the enemy'stopsides as might an explosion on her 'tween decks. Two guns of theafter division, loaded with round and grape, swept her full length.

  But some of the more impetuous of the crew had not heard, or perhapshad not heeded the order to return to their stations. Jack Lange hadmade a great leap of it, and had caught the edge of the Englishman'snetting. As an acrobat twists himself to circle his trapeze, he swunghimself by sheer strength on to the bowsprit, and gaining his feet, hestood there an instant, then he jumped over the bulwarks on to theenemy's deck and disappeared. The handful of men who had sought tofollow his leadership had all failed their object, for a slant of thewind had hove the two vessels so far apart that they were almost clearof the tangle of shrouds and top-hamper that had made them fast. Butone man had made a spring of it and had caught the bight of one of thedownhauls that was hanging free. Hand over hand he hauled himself up tothe nettings, and after considerable difficulty--for he was all butexhausted--he succeeded in getting his body half-way across thebulwarks, and then with a lurch he disappeared. During all this, not ashot had been fired. Every one had watched with anxiety the strangeboarding party of two. What would be the outcome of it? Suddenly, asthe sails that had been tearing and flapping, filled, and the noisesubsided, a strange sound came down from the direction of the othervessel. It was like a great chorused groan--the mingling of many voicesin a note of agony! Then with a crash they met again, the English shipfouling hard and fast in the _Wasp's_ mizzen rigging. LieutenantBiddle, followed by a score of armed boarders, jumped upon the bulwarksand endeavored to reach the other vessel and be the first on board. Inthis he would have succeeded had not little Midshipman Baker caught hisofficers coat-tails and endeavored to emulate his eagerness. But atlast the Lieutenant and his followers gained the deck, there to bewitness of a wonderful sight.

  There was a wounded man limply leaning against the wheel. Threeofficers were huddled near the taffrail--but one was able to stand uponhis feet; the other two were badly wounded. Jack Lange and McGovern theCoward had possession of the ship. But somehow, overcome by the sight,they had not left the forecastle, and it was Lieutenant Biddle's ownhand that lowered away the flag.

  His Majesty's sloop of war _Frolic_ was a prize. Frightful had been thecarnage! But twenty of the English crew were fit for duty. She was acharnel ship. The _Wasp_ had lost but five men killed, and but five menwounded. Among the latter was Bill Roberts. Although he was shot threetimes, the surgeon declared that he would live.

  To and fro the boats plied busily. The _Frolic's_ masts fell shortlyafter she had been boarded, and now every effort was made to repairdamages and take care of the many wounded and the dying.

  Every one talked about McGovern, he who had been the Coward; he whohad cringed to the loblolly boys, and who had taken orders from theward-room steward; who had washed dishes and dodged blows; _he_ was thehero of the day. And how did he take all this new glory, the admiringglances and the remarks of his messmates? Not as a vainglorious seekerof reputation, not as a careless daredevil who had risked recklesslyhis life for the mere excitement; but as a cool-headed, brave-heartedman, who while there was yet work to do found no time to think of whathad been done. He was reincarnate, as if during the fire and smoke,when the hand of death was everywhere, the spirit to do, and dare, hadbeen born within him. Forgotten had been the red scars of thedisgracing cat that seared his back. Here was his chance to show whatwas in him; to even up matters with the power that had almost crushedhis soul. Every shot from the _Wasp's_ side made his heart beat withjoy. The born fighter had been awakened. He craved for more, andanimated by this feeling he went about his work with a half-deliriousstrength that made him accomplish the task of two men. All eyes were onhim. His officers had marked him.

  "Sail ho!" called down one of the men who was clearing away thewreckage aloft. "Sail ho! off the starboard bow."

  Driven by the strong breeze that had blown throughout the morning agreat sail was bearing down, looming larger and larger every minute.The _Wasp_ cleared for action. The _Frolic_, aided by the little jurymasts that had been hastily rigged, was ordered to bear away to thesouthward before the wind. The _Wasp_, wounded and bedraggled as shewas, bore up to meet the oncomer.

  Slowly the great shape rose out of the water, sail by sail. A tier ofguns! another! and a third!--a seventy-four! With two ridges of whitefoam playing out from her broad bow, she bowled along and passed soclose that her great yard arms almost overshadowed the little woundedsloop. There came the sound of a single gun, and at this imperiousorder the _Wasp's_ flag fluttered to the deck. It had not needed thissight of the red cross curling and uncurling across the white expanseof new sail to mark her as one of the great guard ships of old England.English she was from truck to keelson, and long before she fired thatdisdainful shot the gunners of the _Wasp_ had put out their smokingmatches.

  And McGovern had watched her come with an ever-changing expression inhis eyes. His face, flushed with excitement and victory, had paled.Once he had started as if to run below and hide. There was somethingfamiliar in those towering masts and that gleaming white figurehead,and as she sailed on to retake the little _Frolic_, McGovern wascompelled to hold fast to the bitts to prevent himself from falling.The ports were crowded with jeering faces. The quarter-deck rail waslined with laughing officers, in cocked hats and white knee-breeches.Under her stern gallery he read the word _Poictiers_! From that heglanced up at the main yard arm. Men had swung there at the end of arope--yes, he had once seen a convulsive, struggling figure blackagainst the sky. Men would swing there again! The maxim that 'adeserter has no defence' recurred to him. He glanced about. Close bywas a chain-shot, two nine-pound solid shot connected by a foot ofheavy links. Like one afraid of being seen, he skulked across the deckas he had skulked in the days before. He reached the side where part ofthe bulwarks had been torn away, and crouching there he passed the endof his heavy belt through a link of the chain, and without a soundlurched forward, all huddled up, and struck sideways in the water.