CHAPTER XVIII

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A STRONG SWIMMER.

That we had come out of the muddle in a marvelously fortunate manner, goes without saying, and I question if there is another craft of the Swiftsure’s size that has run away from a full-rigged brig in such a short space of time. It was something to crow over, for we lads had built the gallant little sloop from keel to masthead, with never a person to aid or advise, and had good right to feel proud at walking away from the Britisher at such a pace.

It would be a brave story to tell, and we had the right after taking all the risks, to dwell over it as we pleased; but when I look back at the matter now it does not seem such a wonderful performance. I am not inclined to belittle that which was done by our sloop, yet I can now see the Britisher was at a disadvantage.

The wind was a fairly strong one for a craft of the Swiftsure’s size, and only half as heavy as the brig needed, consequently our sloop was able to do her very best, while the Britisher was gasping for breath, so to speak. In addition to this handicap, she was forced to lose way every time a gun was discharged, while we kept straight on without let or hindrance, taking the chances of being sent to the bottom.

However, give the Britisher all the allowance possible, and it was something of which we might be excused for feeling proud, and it can well be fancied that we did not spare our praises for the little sloop. Twice had she served us a mighty good turn, and it is not to be wondered at that we felt the warmest admiration for her.

In the excitement of the chase, when the heavy shots were being sent our way, we had given no heed to the prison ship, although we must have passed within full view of her riding lights. However, it was not needed that we have another look at her, for we knew right well where to find the craft when the time had come for Abel Grant to make his desperate attempt at escape.

The important question for us to decide was whether we should make for the Jersey shore as had been agreed upon, or if it was wiser that we put to sea, running the risk of being able to get back on time, and I looked at Seth Hartley, as if asking him to settle the matter.

“My advice is,” he said, reading the question in my eyes, “to put to sea for a time. If the wind shows signs of flattenin’ out we should be able, ’twixt now an’ to-morrow night, to work back to Coney Island, an’ it is much the same as a fact that the brig will make search for us before mornin’, even if she isn’t followin’ our wake this very minute.”

I turned to my comrades to see what they thought of this advice, and both appeared to think there was no further need of words, therefore I held the bow of the sloop due south, but gave the word to slacken away the sheets, for we were not eager to make overly much distance.

When we had settled down to an outside cruise, and nothing could be seen to cause alarm, Abraham went down to have a look at the prisoner, and I heard him say with much of scorn in his tone:

“You are the lad who dared to make an attack on this craft when you had fifteen or twenty dissolute fellows to do your bidding; but you haven’t got the courage to lay here when a shot or two skims over the sloop! I can have some little regard for a brave enemy; but take the combination of coward an Tory, an’ it makes mean stuff.”

“You wouldn’t like to be tied up here in this fashion while the sloop was bein’ shot into fragments!” Luther whined.

“Were you in any more danger than either of us? You should have been proud because your particular friends had their eyes wide open enough to see us while we were slippin’ down the harbor, though I’m allowin’ there isn’t very much chance for pride in their marksmanship.”

“I wouldn’t have been frightened if I hadn’t been trussed up in this fashion, for if the sloop had been swamped, as seemed likely when the shots were comin’ so thickly, I couldn’t raise a finger to save myself.”

“I didn’t count that you should be able to do anythin’ of the kind. If your friends had sunk us, it was time for you to go to the bottom, since we’re not countin’ that you’ll ever have the chance to work us more injury.”

“Do you count on murderin’ me?” Luther cried with a wail of agony, and Abraham replied with a laugh:

“Not a bit of it, because you’re so worthless that I couldn’t afford to remember I’d had a hand in puttin’ you out of the way. But I don’t count on givin’ you a chance to escape, and whenever your friends press us too hard, you’ll be stowed where whatever of harm comes will strike you first. Just now, seein’ that you can’t do us a mischief, I’m goin’ to give you a chance to move about a bit.”

From the sounds which followed I fancied that Abe was unloosening the Tory’s bonds, therefore was not surprised when the cur poked his head out of the cuddy hatch, most like in order to get an idea of where we were.

“It’s not a pleasant thing to have before one’s eyes,” I said when Abe came on deck again; “but I reckon it was no more than right he should have a chance to get the cramps out of his limbs.”

“He can’t do any harm now that we’re so far at sea, an’ because he’s like to have a long spell of layin’ in harness when we work inland again, it seems no more than decent to ease up on him a little, though I’m willin’ to admit we haven’t any call to show mercy after all he has done, an’ tried to do, to us. When Abel Grant comes aboard, as please God he may before another night has worn away, it shall be for him to say what we’ll do with the sneak.”

Luther Stedman heard these words, and he shrank back out of sight as if having received a blow, as well he might, for it was wholly due to him that our comrade had been made a prisoner, and it was not likely that, having just come from quarters on the Good Hope, Abel would be inclined to mercy while passing sentence on the Tory cur who had worked him so much harm.

It was not pleasing to see the Tory moving about in the cuddy as if he was a member of our company; but better that than inflict torture, and we pulled the hatch over the companion-way to shut him out from view.

When we had run five or six miles from the land, I proposed that we heave to, rather than take the chances of going so far away that we might not be able to get back on time, and from then until nearly sunrise it was only a question of making ourselves as comfortable as possible.

We lounged around on deck, for the air was not overly chilly, spinning yarns or speculating as to whether General Washington would make a stand in New York when the British were ready to attack; but never once did we speak of the work on hand. As for my own part, I did not dare to start the conversation on that subject lest with discussion of the chances against us I might grow faint-hearted. At a later day, Abraham confessed that he held his peace concerning the rescue because he already knew of too many reasons why we might fail, and feared some one would suggest a danger such as had not yet come to his mind.

When the conversation lagged one or another would get “forty winks” of sleep, or have out of the stores sufficient to provide him with a meal that was not needed; but when the first gray streaks of the coming day appeared in the eastern sky all hands were on the alert, and divided in opinion as to whether it would be safest to make harbor back of Coney Island, or off the Jersey shore.

I was in favor of the latter anchorage, as was Seth Hartley, and after a few moments of tongue-wagging all agreed that this plan should be carried out. Therefore it was that in the dim light of the morning, with the wind still holding fairly strong, we stood across to Great Kills, seeing neither ship nor skiff on the waters.

Now in order to reach a point as near the prison ship as it would be safe to venture, we would be forced to row many miles in the skiff, unless we used the sloop during a portion of the journey, and when we were come to anchor inside the sand-spit where was little chance of being seen by any craft that came into or went out of the harbor, I made the following proposition:

“If at sunset the wind holds as now, I’m of the mind that we can do no better than stand across a full two-thirds of the distance from here to Gravesend. Then whosoever is to handle the skiff can put off in her, while the sloop cruises to an’ fro, as near the Good Hope as is safe, to the end that if Abel Grant’s escape is discovered before he is well clear of the ship, we may make a rush with this same craft that has twice shown her heels to the Britishers.”

“Suppose we agree upon that plan, who is to go in the skiff?” Abe asked jealously, and I knew he was fearing lest he miss being given the most dangerous post.

“It is to my mind that Seth Hartley should be one to go in the skiff, since he can tell very much of what is bein’ done on the ship, while either of us would be all at sea on such matters,” I said, firmly determined to carry this point even though it might be necessary to exercise my authority as leader of the Minute Boys.

“I can well see why that should be done,” Abe said emphatically, “an’ am agreed, if Seth is willin’ to take the chances knowin’ that in event of bein’ captured he’d be hung without much ceremony,” and the lad looked inquiringly toward our marine, who replied quietly:

“I shall be in no more danger aboard the skiff, than when we were hidin’ in the swamp, an’ if I had not been willin’ to take any an’ every chance, I should not be with you now.”

“If all Britishers were like you, Seth, how quickly this so-called rebellion would come to an end!” Sam said admiringly, and Abe asked impatiently:

“Who is to go with Seth, that’s what I want to know? It seems as if, since I was willin’ to set off with Luther Stedman, leavin’ to you fellows all the chances that might come to finish the job without me, I should be given an opportunity to show myself.”

“You must be a glutton for danger if the night tramp across the island, when you were hampered by a prisoner, was not enough,” Sam cried laughingly. “So far I haven’t had a chance to do very much, but it is known full well that I can pull a good stroke at the oars, an’ it seems as if you an’ Eph might give way for me.”

I had not spoken, though I was aching to have a hand in the adventure despite all the dangers which caused the cold chills to run down my back, and Seth must have understood somewhat of this, for he said after Sam had made his plea:

“It strikes me that the only fair way would be to make the decision by lot. Each of you is eager to have a hand in the matter, an’ well it should be so, since it shows you to be lads of mettle; but the claim of one is no greater than that of the others.”

“Very well, we’ll settle it that way!” Abraham cried, and I knew he was praying that he might win what was like to be the prize of death. “You shall make ready the lots, an’ we’ll abide by the decision.”

Seth went into the cuddy where was Luther, still at liberty, only long enough to get three bits of ratline stuff, which he held in his closed hand as he said:

“One of these is much shorter than the others, an’ he who draws it shall be entitled to go with me in the skiff.”

Sam made his selection hurriedly, eagerly; Abraham came next, and when I took the remaining lot it was to find that mine was the shortest. It was a great piece of luck, and I knew full well that both the other lads envied me.

“Now that the matter is decided, I hope you two who are to handle the sloop will be cautious.” I said, speaking as I believed a leader had the right. “Do not come within sight of the prison ship unless we have been discovered, an’ you feel certain it will be possible to lend us a hand. In case you see that we cannot escape, if chase be made, think only of securin’ your own safety, leavin’ us to our fate, for it is better that two of us pay the penalty than that all be captured an’ our Tory set free.”

“If you think there is fear that I may not be sufficiently cautious, change places with me, an’ then you’ll know to a certainty that the sloop will be handled with due regard to the safety of those on board,” Abe cried eagerly, and for the moment I verily believe he thought it might be possible to work his will by using such an argument.

“We’d best hold to the agreement that was made by drawing lots,” I said with a smile which did not tend to sooth the lad. “It was only in my mind that if it seemed impossible Seth an’ I could come out of the venture alive, then your duty would be to look after the safety of those who had a show of goin’ free.”

“Suppose you was runnin’ the sloop, an’ I had gone in the skiff with Seth,” Abraham cried, irritably. “If you saw a boat-load of Britishers overhaulin’ us, would you turn tail an’ run away?”

I could not well answer the question without going back on my own advice, therefore held my peace, and Seth Hartley put an end to the conversation by saying with a smile:

“I’m thinkin’ you lads, now that the details have been arranged, had better set about makin’ preparations for the night’s work, instead of rufflin’ each other. Even if matters go exactly as we could wish, there’s a deal of hard work to be done, an’ he who gets the most rest ’twixt now an’ sunset will be in the best shape for it. How about standin’ hourly watches, one at a time, all the others to make every effort at goin’ to sleep?”

I question if either of us felt any inclination to turn in just then; but all understood that Seth had spoken wisely, and we made a downright task of sleeping, I taking the first trick.

Luther was allowed to remain at liberty, with the understanding that he was not to come on deck, and I had little to do save think of what the night might have in store for us. Seaward not so much as the wing of a gull was in sight, and as far as could be seen along the sandy shore it was as if the land had never been inhabited.

My eyes were really heavy with slumber when I aroused Seth, after an hour or more had passed, and, lying at full length on the cuddy floor, I slept without being disturbed when the watches were changed, throughout nearly the whole of that day.

The sun was no more than an hour high in the heavens when I awakened because of having had my fill of sleep, and found Seth and Abe both in the cockpit.

“Have you two been standin’ more than your share of the watches?” I asked sharply, and was soon made to know that Seth had but just come out of the cuddy, while Abe, like myself, was surfeited with slumber.

Five minutes later Sam awakened of his own accord, and we four sat in the cockpit silent and motionless, awaiting the coming of night. It was not a time for conversation, and yet so great was the suspense that to think of what remained to be done was almost painful.

We made ready the canvas for hoisting; examined the oars in the skiff critically, for a defect in one might cost the lives of all, and, at Seth’s suggestion, wound the row-locks with rope that we might be able to pull the more silently. The wind held steady, with promise of freshening after sunset, for already were fleecy clouds coming up out of the west, not in sufficient force to shut out the light of the stars, but yet enough to tell that the little Swiftsure would have a fair chance to show what she was able to do in the way of sailing.

“So far everythin’ is in our favor, an’ if Barney Nelson has been able to do his share, we should succeed,” Seth said as he hove the anchor short by way of finding some work for his hands.

We had cleared the deck of everything movable that might not be needed, and otherwise done all in our power to guard against accidents. When the sun set Abraham went down and made his prisoner fast in the bunk again, not heeding Luther’s pleading or promises, and as the last rays of golden light faded away in the west, we got under way, although there was no real need of our leaving the anchorage for two hours more.

We stood well down off Coney Island in order to pass the time, and when it seemed as if it was near nine o’clock we turned the sloop’s bow up the bay, thus really beginning the venture.

The little Swiftsure made good time, but glided over the water as silently as a shadow, as if understanding the necessity for caution, until we were come off the lights of the prison ship, perhaps three miles away due east.

“I allow this is our spot, lad,” Seth Hartley said in a whisper, for so strongly were we imbued with the idea that absolute silence was essential to the success of the venture, that we had hardly taken a long breath since heading on a northerly course.

Abraham, who was standing nearby, took the helm, and, throwing aside my boots, coat, hat and vest in order to be prepared for swimming if anything of the kind became necessary, I dropped into the skiff which Sam was holding alongside, the sloop’s headway having been checked.

Without a word of farewell, or even a whisper to each other, we settled down to the oars, pulling steadily but cautiously, and thus made our way across the bay until it was possible to see the riding lights of the Good Hope quite distinctly.

“Here’s where we’d best wait,” Seth said, speaking for the first time since we left the sloop, and at the same moment shipping his oars.

It was in my mind that we might safely venture a full half-mile nearer; but he was the one who should know best, and I held my peace.

In the night, however much light may be given by the stars, it is difficult to judge of distances on the water; but it seemed to me as if we were not less than a mile and a half from the Good Hope, and while we were so far away it would not be possible to lend Abel Grant any aid if he was discovered at the moment of letting himself over the ship’s side.

By gestures I made Seth Hartley understand that in my opinion we should pull up nearer the Good Hope; but he shook his head so decidedly that I made no further attempt at persuading him, though I said to myself that if Abel Grant came to grief after getting into the water, our marine could be held responsible.

I had thought the time of suspense while we were on the sloop as painful as anything well could be; but it was veriest peace and content as compared with this straining one’s eyes to see and ears to hear, without avail. We were too far away to make out what might be going on aboard; but must sit there watching the twinkling lights and listening to the lip-lip-lipping of the water against the side of the skiff, powerless to aid even in the slightest degree the poor fellow whom we believed was about to make an effort at escaping.

Moment after moment passed without change, and I became so wrought up that it was actually necessary to shut my teeth on the handle of the oar, otherwise I would have cried aloud from sheer nervousness.

Seth remained motionless as a statue, save when the swinging of the skiff forced him to turn on the thwart that he might keep his eyes fixed upon the ship, and after it seemed absolutely impossible for me to longer restrain my impatience, I asked in a soft whisper:

“How late is it?”

“An hour or more past midnight,” he replied without turning his head, and my heart sank within me.

“Then he has failed!” I said in despair.

“It may be Barney could not make the necessary arrangements, an’ the attempt has been put off.”

“Then why should we remain here longer?”

“Because we do not know what may have been done,” he replied, just a bit curtly as I fancied, and once more we resumed our listening and watching, but now hope was dead in my heart, and I played my part listlessly, thinking only that we were trifling with our own lives by remaining so near the enemy.

When perhaps half an hour more had passed without bringing any token from the man whom we had hoped to save, I saw the canvas of the Swiftsure, ghost-like amid the gloom, and knew that Abraham and Sam had come to make certain we were safe. Touching Seth Hartley on the shoulder, I pointed out the sail to him, but he shook his head impatiently, and turned again to fasten his gaze on the prison ship.

Now the strain upon my nerves was lessened in some slight degree, since I could occupy myself with the movements of the sloop. I saw her stand off and on, keeping at the same distance, however, and thus knew that the lads, having made out the skiff, were assured as to our whereabouts.

Then, when I had said to myself that we were playing the simple by remaining there longer, the skiff was rocked violently to and fro as if some monster of the deep had struck her, and only by the utmost effort did I prevent myself from shrieking in terror as a small black object appeared above the gunwale within a few inches of where I was sitting.

Seth Hartley bent forward to grasp the strange object, and I was literally stricken dumb with astonishment when Abel Grant’s face, the hair hanging over it in snake-like wisps, was before me.

Neither he nor Seth spoke, but our marine, guiding him to the stern of the skiff, set about assisting the poor fellow inboard, while I moved here or there as was necessary to prevent the light craft from oversetting.

When this had been done Seth touched my lips with his wet fingers in token that I was to hold my peace, and then took up the oars, swinging the skiff around until she was headed for the ghostly sail in the distance.

I never shall be able to tell how fervent was the hymn of thanksgiving in my heart, or how nearly overpowering the astonishment that Abel had come upon us thus unseen, and as a means of letting off some of the excitement and triumph I pulled at the oars as never before, sending the skiff ahead with a gurgling of water under the bow that sounded like sweetest music.

Abraham and Sam saw when we turned the craft, and bore down upon us supposing we had tired of the vigil, with never a suspicion that the work had been accomplished successfully, while Abel Grant sat in the stern-sheets swaying his body to and fro to mark the time for our stroke, as if he had just come aboard after a season of pleasuring.

We were alongside the sloop and made fast before Abraham realized that we in the skiff numbered three, and then he cried:

“Where did----”

“Not a whisper!” Seth Hartley said hoarsely, and instantly he clambered over the rail the helm was in his keeping, the sloop being headed due south.

Not until we were fully two miles away was a word spoken, though Abel Grant continued to shake each of us by the hand with a grip which would have been painful but for our intense joy, and then Seth said, speaking cautiously even though we were so far away:

“Now I’m thinkin’ Abel Grant had better tell his story, for I’m achin’ to know how he could have come upon the skiff so secretly while I was keepin’ watch as I never did before.”

“Go ahead, Abel!” I added, “for until I hear your voice I shan’t feel really certain that you are here, even though my arm is lame through your efforts to wring my hand from it.”

“I reckon you can figger it all out, needin’ no words of mine,” our “admiral” said with a low laugh of satisfaction. “Barin’ our marine here, that Barney Nelson is the most decent Britisher I ever came across. He laid out the plan an’ asked if I was willin’ to try it. Willin’? I’d have agreed if the water of the sea had been boilin’ hot, for anythin’ was better than the stayin’ there, with that whelp of a Luther Stedman crowin’ over me----”

“Luther Stedman is in the cuddy tied hand an’ foot, so after tellin’ your story you can go below an’ crow over him,” Sam cried in glee.

“That Tory on board this craft?” Abel asked, and would have showered us with questions but that I said sharply:

“Tell your story first, admiral, an’ then you shall hear all about the Tory.”

“Wa’al, as I’ve said, when that Britisher allowed he’d be willin’ to give me a lift, I told him I’d agree to try anythin’ he could figger out, an’ so I did. Jest about midnight I was told off with twenty other poor wretches to take my turn at gettin’ a breath of fresh air on deck, an’ there was your Barney Nelson on guard. He’d already explained that if I saw him doin’ duty I was to work around behind him, next the rail, where I’d find a rope hangin’ over, an’ it all went along slick as grease. I got behind the marine; found the rope, an’ let myself down inter the water, expectin’ to feel the ping of a British bullet every minute. Of course I didn’t try to splash ’round very much, but pushed off, swimmin’ like a water-logged dory.”

“Did you swim from midnight till you came alongside the skiff?” I asked in surprise, and Abel replied with a gleeful laugh:

“Ay, lad, that’s what I did, seein’s there wasn’t any dock nigh at hand for me to haul up at. I reckon I’d got well over to the Jersey shore before havin’ the idee that I was out of the course, an’ then I hove to for a bit. You see Nelson didn’t tell me where you was likely to be, so I had to do a deal of guessin’ till the sail of the sloop loomed up in the distance, an’ then I knew you lads were close at hand. After that it was only a case of keepin’ my arms an’ legs goin’, not puttin’ in any very hard licks, ’cause I was bound to save my wind seein’s it might be necessary to paddle ’round quite a spell.”

“You must have been swimmin’ a good three hours!” Abraham exclaimed, and Abel replied with a grin:

“I reckon I was in the water that long; but I turned over on my back now an’ then for a breathin’ spell. It wasn’t sich a very long pull for the admiral of a fleet, ’cause of course he ought’er know how to handle himself in the water, else he wouldn’t be fit to take command of the Minute Boys’ navy.”

It would be useless for me to attempt to set down all that was said that night when, at the distance of five miles or more, we ran down the Long Island shore. It was as if each of us needed to hear himself talk, and there was no thought of anything save yarn spinning until every fellow had wagged his tongue sore.

And now, because I have taken up more time and pages than he who reads may care to spend or turn, this poor apology for a story of what we poor apologies for Minute Boys did, shall come to a speedy end, with the promise that at some day I will set down all we accomplished when our company numbered fifty-four members, for it grew apace after somewhat of our work was made known.

As may well be understood, we did not attempt to gain New York by sailing up the bay, but doubled Montauk Point as we had done once before, only to find, after an unusually long voyage, that the enemy was in possession of the colony far beyond Meyers Point, while our army appeared to be making for the Hudson river.

Then it was that we tricked the Britishers once more by sneaking up to Frog’s Point in the night, laying there close under a clump of overhanging trees till the following evening, when, with the wind blowing considerably more than half a gale and the rain coming down as if the heavens had suddenly opened, we ran up the Harlem river to King’s bridge. There, by unshipping our mast, we slipped through into the Hudson river, and as far up the stream as Yonkers.

At this place we parted company with Luther Stedman, being as glad to get rid of the cur as he was to go. We left the Tory in the keeping of Colonel Clinton, who contrived to keep him in prison a good six months, after which he was set free because his value as an enemy did not warrant further bother with him. We Minute Boys failed to see the scoundrel until more than a year had passed, and then we crippled him for good, as shall be told when I write concerning what we did after our company was sufficiently large to make it of real service in the war.

And Seth Hartley? His time of enlistment expired before he had been with us four months, and then both he and Abel were regularly enrolled in our ranks.

At this moment the Swiftsure, old and worn as are her builders, lies at anchor within my range of vision, and there was never a time when we called upon her that she did not respond like some thing of flesh and blood.

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.