CHAPTER V

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UNWELCOME VISITORS.

It was as if I had hardly more than lost myself in slumber when I was awakened by Abraham, who announced that the new day would dawn in less than two hours. I insisted that he had made a mistake, still believing I had but just turned in, yet was forced to admit he was right after learning that Abel Grant had remained on watch until nearly midnight, before arousing my comrade.

“It seems like a useless loss of sleep, while everythin’ is so quiet, but I’m willin’ to admit that Abel Grant knows best,” Abraham said as he rolled into his bunk with a little squeak of content.

“Have you seen or heard anythin’?” I asked, rubbing my eyes sleepily as I looked out through the hatch.

“Not so much as the flappin’ of a bird’s wing. It seems as if, with the wind drawin’ down from the fleet, we might hear the cries of the sentries; but nothing has come to my ears. We appear to be snug enough here, an’ I only wish we knew Sam was as free from trouble.”

Abraham had hardly more than ceased speaking before the sound of loud breathing told that he was asleep, and I stepped softly out on deck in order to let the drowsiness blow from my eyes.

Save for the distant rumble of surf on the outer side of the island, the most profound silence reigned. Far away in the distance could be seen tiny points of light, which I took to be the Britishers’ lanterns, but, otherwise than such signs of life, we were apparently as much alone as if in an uninhabited world.

The night breath from the ocean was invigorating, for the previous day had been exceedingly warm, and our little cabin was like unto a furnace. I drew in long draughts of the cool air as I speculated upon what Sam might be doing, and if he had traveled without interruption since leaving us, until having worked myself up to the belief that I had been frightened without cause--that our task of spying upon the enemy’s fleet was no more than a pleasure excursion.

And then, when the sense of perfect security had banished all forebodings, there came to my ears a faint sound which caused me to spring to the rail in a listening attitude, every nerve in my body tingling.

The wind had brought a noise as of oars in the distance, and during two or three moments I stood there undecided as to whether I might have been deceived, after which there could no longer be any question.

A boat was coming toward us from the direction of the fleet, and on the instant all the fancied sense of security had vanished, leaving in its stead a vague terror which caused me to tremble violently.

Could it be that Luther Stedman had already given information as to our being ardent Whigs, and the enemy was coming thus soon to take us into custody as spies? It did not seem reasonable that all this could have been done thus soon, and yet if such was not the case, why was a boat bearing down upon us?

While one might have counted thirty I stood irresolute, asking myself questions that could not be answered, but the reply to which might come all too soon, and then I ran into the cuddy, shaking Abel Grant violently as I whispered:

“The Britishers are comin’! Luther Stedman must have sent them! Turn out, for there’s no time to be lost!”

Abel came from the bunk like a steel spring, wide awake, and asking in a puzzled tone:

“What’s to be done that time is so precious?”

“That’s what I don’t know; but we can’t allow ourselves to be taken here like rats in a trap!”

I had spoken sufficiently loud to awaken Abraham, who leaped out of his bunk just as Abel Grant went on deck, and, without speaking, we two lads followed him.

It was not needed that we strain our ears overly much, for now the thump of oars in the row-locks came over the water loud, distinct, and sounding in my ears like the knell of doom.

Abel Grant remained silent, listening, until it seemed to me he would never speak, and, unable to control my patience longer, I plucked him by the shirt-sleeve, whispering:

“What _shall_ we do? We can’t stand here idle while they are comin’ so fast!”

“I reckon that’s what we’ll have to do,” Abel replied with that exasperating drawl of his which it seemed was unusually pronounced as if to irritate me. “That boat ain’t so near as it seems, for the surface of the water brings the noise a long distance. The cuddy is the place for us; it would never do to let the Britishers, if so be they are really comin’ here, find us waitin’ for ’em.”

Having thus spoken he went into the cabin, and Abraham and I could do no less than follow, although it seemed to me that it was the most foolish move we could make, and so I told him when we had drawn the hatch lest the sound of our voices should be heard.

“That’s a matter of opinion, Ephraim, ’cordin’ to my way of thinkin’; but p’rhaps you can tell me what we could say to the Britishers, if they found us waitin’ for ’em? In case we were really the honest fishermen we claim to be, what call would there be for standin’ watch while anchored here where no harm could come to the sloop if a livin’ gale should spring up? Why wouldn’t we be sleepin’, to be ready for a day’s work when the sun rises?”

Abel Grant was right, as he had always contrived to be from the time he adopted us Minute Boys as his own particular following. A blind man could have seen that by thus being on the alert when the Britishers arrived, we would be much the same as advertising the fact that we were fearing they might pay us a visit, and without waiting to see what the others might be counting on doing, I rolled into my bunk.

Abel Grant and Abraham followed my example, and as we lay there pretending to be asleep, with the clanking of the oars sounding louder and louder each moment, my heart beat so fast and furious that involuntarily I held my hand over it.

If the Britishers had come aboard at that moment, one glance at my face would have been sufficient to show that I was thoroughly afraid; but, luckily, they gave me time to gather my scattered wits sufficiently to understand that unless I was willing to be made a prisoner, it was necessary to control myself.

Ominously sounded the noise of the oars; the suspense was becoming greater each instant, until it was with a feeling of positive relief that I felt the sloop heel over as she was struck amidships, and with the shock came the hail:

“On board there! Turn out, you bloomin’ Yankees, an’ give an account of yourselves!”

Surely this seemed sufficient proof that Luther Stedman had worked our undoing, but, and it seems strange to me even now, because of the danger which I had feared was close at hand, my courage returned and I was able to follow my comrades when they tumbled out of the cabin with the utmost speed, looking and acting as if scared nearly out of their senses.

“What’s up? What’s gone wrong? Sheer off, or you’ll run us down!” Abel Grant cried shrilly, but not forgetting to lengthen his words until it was as if he pulled them out from between his teeth, and I had no little difficulty in keeping my face straight, so comical did it all appear.

“What are you doing down here?” a stern voice from out the gloom asked, and Abel replied in the most innocent manner possible:

“We was tryin’ to bottle up a little sleep; but if you’re goin’ to cruise ’round so reckless-like, I reckon it stands us in hand to keep our eyes open mighty wide.”

“When did you leave New York?” the voice asked sternly, and I could hear the sailors giggling as if amused by Abel’s reply.

“Bless your heart, we don’t live in New York. We come out’er Gowanus creek this mornin’, countin’ to put to sea after bluefish; but a feller on one of the vessels took all our clams, an’ now we’ve got to wait till the tide turns before there’ll be a show of gettin’ any more.”

Then came a few words in a low tone, which I could not catch, and the officer, for such I supposed the man who had done the talking must be, said sharply:

“You’ll get under way and follow me.”

At the same instant a marine, musket in hand, leaped aboard the sloop, and I understood that we were not to be given an opportunity to disobey; but Abel Grant continued to play his part, by saying in a tone of entreaty:

“Look here, Mister, we can’t go foolin’ ’round the bay, else we’ll lose the tide an’ waste a whole day. What do you want us for, any way?”

“Do as you’re bidden without making any further talk about it, or I’ll take you with me, and send a couple more men aboard to handle your craft.”

“But, look here, Mister----”

“Get your anchor, and be lively about it!” the officer cried angrily, and Abel Grant went forward meekly, saying in an undertone to us lads, but yet speaking sufficiently loud to be heard by the Britishers:

“Here I’ve been makin’ a bloomin’ fool of myself wishin’ the king’s ships would come, so’s we’d have a chance to sell fish an’ jest when we’ve got the show to make a few shillin’s some fool trick must be played on us!”

The marine was standing stiffly near the tiller when we got our anchor, and if ever sail was made clumsily, it was on the Swiftsure that morning. Abel tumbled here and there; pulled at the main sheet as if believing it was the halliards, and otherwise made such a show of himself that the British seamen could not restrain their mirth, while the officer fired off volley after volley of oaths as a means of quickening his movements.

And all the while that we thus played the simple my heart was as heavy as lead, for I knew full well we were prisoners, even though allowed to remain on board our own vessel, and there was no question in my mind but that all this had been brought about by Luther Stedman and his friend, although I could not quite figure out how it had been done thus quickly.

The only rift of sunshine in all the gloom was the fact that unless Sam came to grief while traveling across Long Island, we would have sent at least one report to General Putnam before thus making a dire failure of the whole venture.

Well, we made sail finally, and, acting under the direction of the officer, followed close in the wake of his boat. The wind was light, being no more than the night breath which comes in over the sea at early morning, and the oarsmen were obliged to row very leisurely otherwise they would speedily have run us out of sight.

The new day was just breaking when we came up with the outermost armed vessel in the fleet, and were ordered to make the sloop fast astern, a hawser having been passed to us for that purpose.

“You will stay where you are until further orders,” the officer said in a pompous tone as he went up the rope-ladder hanging over the ship’s side. “The sentry has instructions to shoot without stopping to ask questions, if you make the slightest move toward sneaking off.”

“We may as well stay here as under the lee of the island, so long’s we’ve lost the tide,” Abel Grant said in a despondent tone, and to us lads he added, “Come inter the cuddy, boys, an’ we’ll finish our snooze.”

The marine had already seated himself in the stern-sheets, where he remained stiff as a poker, his musket held across one arm that it might be brought into use without loss of time, but otherwise looking very comfortable.

“I reckon, neighbor, it won’t do any good to ask you to come down an’ jine us in our snooze, an’ by the same token neither you nor that Britisher with the gold lace are likely to say anythin’ agin our takin’ what comfort we may?”

“So that you obey orders by layin’ here quietly, there is no reason why you should not do whatever you please,” the man said gruffly, and yet not without a certain tone of friendliness.

“It strikes me that we can’t do anythin’ else than obey orders so long as we’re made fast to your ship,” Abel Grant replied with a laugh as if he viewed the situation in the light of a joke, and then he pulled the hatch over, thus shutting us out from view of those on the ship, as well as the marine.

When this had been done, we three came close together, as far forward as possible, and Abel said in a whisper:

“I’m allowin’, lads, that this ’ere is the end of our cruise. If we hadn’t been sich fools as to take all these stores aboard, then there might be some chance of carryin’ out the game of bein’ honest fishermen, providin’ Luther Stedman don’t show up. But as it is, once one of them Britishers comes below, he’ll see that we’re outfitted for a longer voyage than a day’s fishin’.”

“Isn’t there somethin’ we can do to give ’em the slip?” Abe asked hopefully.

“I leave it to you to say what that may be, an’ stand ready to jine in anythin’ that promises half a chance; but with the marine aboard, an’ the sentries on the ship ready to fire at the first show of tryin’ to get away, I can’t understand how we’ll be able to make a move.”

“And if Luther Stedman should come to say we are Whigs, who took him and his friend prisoners, what then?” I asked.

“Well, I reckon we’ll have a taste of prison life aboard a British vessel, an’ I’m told it ain’t at all comfortable,” Abel Grant said seriously. “Look here, the one thing to be done is to keep our upper lips stiff. We’re in a box where there ain’t much chance for backin’ out, an’ the only thing left is to show the bloomin’ Britishers that we’re no cowards. I shall stick to the story that we had nothin’ more in mind than a day’s fishin’, even if Luther Stedman stands in front of me. It ain’t what you might call real lyin’, an’ even if it was, I’ll allow that we’d be warranted in it, seein’s this is mighty serious, an’ we are servin’ the Cause.”

Having thus shown us that he did not indulge in any hope of escape, Abel Grant crawled into one of the bunks as if it was his purpose to go to sleep; but Abraham and I sat there on the locker, holding each other by the hand, two as disheartened lads as could have been found in all the colonies.

We had dreamed of being able to do men’s work in this fight for liberty, and yet had come to grief before really beginning the first task set us. The only ray of comfort I could see in all the wretched business was, that it had been brought about through no fault of ours. We had simply obeyed orders, and in the obeying had come to a prison.

How long we two sat there side by side, leaning one against the other as if the friendly contact strengthened our courage, I cannot say. Surely it must have been an hour, and during all that time Abel Grant remained motionless, even more silent than if he had really been asleep.

Then it was that an unusual movement of the sloop told us the marine had changed position, and an instant later we heard him crying to some of his comrades on the ship:

“Pass me down some oil-skins, will you? There is no need of gettin’ soaked through, even though I am forced to stand guard over a lot of bloomin’ colonists.”

“Why does he want oil-skins?” Abel Grant muttered, and then in the dim light of the cuddy I could see him creeping toward the hatchway.

A moment later he stole softly back to where we were sitting, and whispered excitedly:

“Lads, there’s as thick a fog smother come in from sea as I ever looked at, an’ who knows but that it’s our one chance?”

“Chance for what?” I whispered irritably. “How can we do anythin’ while that red-coated marine sits aft with his musket ready to shoot us if we happen to show ourselves in a way that doesn’t happen to please him?”

“I ain’t jest certain how the trick may be worked; but with everythin’ shut in by the smother, it seems as if we might turn it to our advantage. I reckon it’s best we don’t make overly much talk here, for if the marine hears us whisperin’ he’ll guess, unless his head is thicker than I allow for, that we’ve got some scheme afoot.”

So far as I could judge, it made little difference whether he suspected anything or not, for surely so long as we were made fast to the ship, and he remained aboard to see that we did not attempt to change the position of affairs, we were powerless.

After sitting still while one might have counted twenty, Abel whispered to me that I was to open the hatch, and stand at the head of the cuddy stairs talking on whatsoever subject came to my mind, with himself and Abraham, regardless of what answers they might make.

“It’s just to show yourself, an’ see to it that the bloomin’ marine don’t get overly suspicious,” he said in conclusion, and then began crawling over the stores into the very forepeak of the sloop.

Wondering what sort of a plan he might have in mind when it seemed certain none could avail us, but yet knowing that he must have settled upon something, I obeyed, opening the hatch only so far as was needed in order to peer out, when I saw that there could be no mistake as to the fog storm.

Never had I known the gray vapor so dense; turning my head I could see only dimly the outlines of the ship, astern of which we rode within fifteen or twenty yards, and despite the gravity of the situation I could not have restrained myself from smiling at the disconsolate figure of the marine who, enveloped in oil-skins, was humped up in the stern-sheets as forlorn a royalist spectacle as a Whig could possibly wish to see.

“I reckon we haven’t lost anythin’ by bein’ forced to tail on behind your vessel,” I said in a friendly tone, thinking it was as well to enter into conversation with the guard as with my comrades. “In this smother there’ll be no fishin’, an’ even if we had put out, it would be a case of gettin’ back under the lee of the island again.”

“I wish you an’ all the bloomin’ colonists in this blasted country had been sunk before ever I enlisted to come over here an’ show you your duty to the king,” the marine growled, wiping off the drops of water which were trickling down his nose, with the sleeve of his coat.

“Well, there’s one thing about it,” I said laughingly, and if anything could give a fellow comfort it was the picture of that unhappy lobster-back, “we colonists didn’t ask you to come, an’ would have been well content had you staid at home, if this is the way we’re to be used.”

“I can’t see but what you are havin’ the best of this business,” he growled.

“In what way?”

“You can stay snug in the cabin while I’m under orders to sit here with this blasted fog drenchin’ the life out of me.”

“Why don’t you come below?”

“Because my orders were to stay here.”

Thinking I had talked long enough with the marine, I bent down to speak with Abraham, and that which I could dimly see caused so much surprise that my tongue absolutely refused to wag. And yet there was nothing particularly terrifying or astonishing in the scene, for it was made up only of Abel Grant’s boots; but they were stretched at full length along the narrow space which, in a larger vessel, would have been called a forepeak.

In a twinkling I understood his purpose as well as if he had explained it in so many words.

In the deck, at the heel of the bowsprit, we had, when building the sloop, put in a small hatch to the end that a hawser might be stowed below when we were riding to the anchor at short range, and this hatch gave, as a matter of course, directly upon the bitts, to which were attached a rope that held us to the British vessel.

Abel Grant had conceived the idea of slipping this hawser by reaching up through the small aperture, and if it might be done without his hands being seen, which was a slight risk while the fog was so dense, then would the sloop be adrift. Five minutes afterward, with the tide on the ebb as it was, we should be so far astern that unless they came to seek us in a boat, we were free; but, and here I could see the defect in our “admiral’s” scheme, the marine would still be on board, and armed. However, despite the risk, for with a single shot those on the ship might have sunk our sloop off hand, it was a chance well worth the taking. I had so far regained my courage as to mentally snap my fingers at the remainder of the plan, trusting that Abel Grant had head enough to carry it through successfully.

Now it was that I advanced one step up on the stairs, speaking again to the marine, and this time regarding the possibility that the fog might linger several days before lifting; but all the while watching out of the tail of my eye at that point just forward of the mainmast, where should be seen Abel Grant’s hand.

Twice I thought I detected it, and it required all my strength of will to keep up the conversation with the marine, who answered curtly, his temper too far gone to admit of finding any amusement in conversing with a “blasted Yankee.”

And then it seemed to me that Abel must have abandoned his purpose, for I saw no movement whatsoever until dimly there came within my line of vision that which was like unto a dark snake, wriggling slowly over the bow. Then a light splash in the water, so light that amid the lip, lip, lipping of the waves one could hardly have detected it, and my heart came into my throat with a bound, for I knew that the sloop was adrift.

The marine, his cap pulled down over his eyes, contented himself with watching the door of the cuddy with the idea that no mischief could be done while we remained below, and consequently he failed, to note that the outlines of the ship, so indistinct in the fog, were rapidly melting away, until finally nothing could be seen save that gray wall of vapor.

From the deck of the Britisher I question if at any time since the fog had shut in, our sloop could be seen because of lying so low on the water and being such a small object, therefore were the chances much in our favor that the sentries on the frigate were unaware of what was taking place.

In the cuddy below I could hear some one moving about softly, and understood that Abel Grant was coming back from the forepeak, his work having been done, and done successfully.

An instant later he thrust his head out the hatchway by the side of mine, asking in a sleepy tone:

“Are there any signs of this smother thinnin’ up, lad?”

“It’s growin’ thicker than ever,” I replied. “How is the wind?”

“A little west of south, I reckon, what there is of it, an’ comin’ from that point you can’t expect fair weather yet a while. Say, this is a little the toughest I’ve ever struck on the Long Island shore, an’ I’m hopin’ I shan’t see the like agin’.”

While Abel was speaking I heard Abraham moving softly around just below me, and a moment later felt some hard object against my back as Abel Grant apparently reached out his hand and seized it. For a moment I was at a loss to understand what it might be, and then came the thought that our “admiral” was making ready to take care of the marine in the stern-sheets, if peradventure the thick-headed Britisher came to suspect that all was not exactly as it should be. Abraham had passed him the musket, but whether it was loaded or not I could not say. The chances were that my comrades had not stopped to so far make their preparations.

Then Abel pulled at my jacket from behind, looking into my face in a meaning way, and I, understanding that he desired me to give way for him, stepped back into the cuddy, saying as I did so:

“If you find any sport standin’ out there in the fog, you may soak yourself, for all I care. I’ll take my trick in your bunk.”

Abraham was standing in the center of the cabin with a spare tiller in his hand, and again I understood all the plan without need of words.

Abel Grant had sent me below in order that he might not be hampered in his movements if it became necessary to suddenly spring upon the marine, and Abraham with his oaken club was ready to follow at the first signal, which would not be given until there was evidence that the Britishers had discovered the trick.

Now it was simply a question of waiting, and this to me was the most difficult of all, even though I knew full well that every moment increased our chances of escape, for the tide was steadily setting us eastward, and the wind, such as it was, would be forcing the sloop in the direction of Coney Island, although I allowed we would be well out to sea before we came off the land, in case we drifted so far without interruption.

The great fear in my mind was that those on board the frigate would discover too soon what had been done, and yet I asked myself how they could, for the sloop had been shut out from view by the fog before Abel Grant let slip the cable. It would only happen if some overly curious one should pull in on the hawser, and there was little chance in such a smother, for the fog was so dense that it was like unto a storm of rain, that any one on board the frigate would be loitering outside, save while absolutely on duty.

Take it all in all, I believed that Abel Grant had the same as succeeded in his purpose, and yet so great was my anxiety that I trembled like a leaf, and was forced to sit down on the locker, otherwise my knees would have given way beneath me.

Abraham Decker stood like a statue immediately behind Abel, on whom he kept his eyes fixed that not the slightest movement of our leader should escape him, and thus we remained, no one may say how long.

As some relief from the mental strain I began to count the seconds, with the idea of getting some little knowledge of the passage of time; but even that was impossible while my mind was in such a turmoil.

It may have been two hours for aught I know, and I would dare swear that it was more than half an hour, when I heard the marine say in a startled tone:

“Where is that blasted frigate?”

Abel Grant bounded out onto the deck like a ball of rubber, Abraham following at his heels, and on the instant came the words in a low tone:

“Move ever so little, an’ I’ll put a ball through your head! Hold your peace, an’ no harm shall come to you!”

[Illustration: “‘MOVE EVER SO LITTLE, AN’ I’LL PUT A BALL THROUGH YOUR HEAD!’”]

By this time I was at the cuddy entrance and saw Abel standing with the muzzle of his musket pressed against the marine’s ear, while Abraham faced him with uplifted club.

“I reckon we were out of earshot long before this, lads, an’ now it is only a question of makin’ certain this lobster-back don’t raise his voice, thereby obligin’ me to blow out what few brains he’s got. Give us your cap, Eph. No, I can’t take it ’cause this ’ere musket is goin’ to stay right where it is. Chuck it in his mouth, an’, Abraham, you are to take charge of his gun.”

The Britisher showed good sound sense when he resigned himself to the inevitable. He must have known beyond a peradventure that we were desperate, and would not hesitate to carry out any threat which had been made, therefore he opened his mouth meekly at the same time that Abraham took the musket from his hands, and we soon had him gagged.

Now Abel Grant lowered his weapon and at the same time took up the end of the main sheet, making two or three turns around the Britisher’s head in such a manner that my cap was held firmly in place as a gag. We had wiped the marine out of the problem, and now came the question as to whether there was seamanship enough among us to finish that which had been so well begun.

“We won’t be in any great haste about making sail,” Abel Grant said in a whisper. “First and foremost we’ll get this lobster-back into the cuddy; lash him up where he can’t move, an’ that done, I’m allowin’ we’d best drift a full hour, unless we hear some token from the frigate, seein’s how the current and the wind are both workin’ our way.”

With three of us to truss up the prisoner the task was not a long one, more particularly since he offered no resistance whatever, but resigned himself entirely to our will, and because of such resignation we treated him with more of tenderness than I had ever believed I could show toward one who wore a red coat.

He was bundled into a bunk with a bit of spare canvas under his head for a pillow, and we three stood in the cockpit together, straining our ears to listen for some token from the frigate which should tell that the escape was discovered.

Then it was that I thought to ask of Abel Grant a question:

“Was your musket loaded?”

“Never a bit of it,” he replied with a grin; “but the lobster-back didn’t know that.”

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