CHAPTER XXX
_A Sailor's Opinion of the Land_
It was a delightful morning in February. The Continental shipRandolph, a tight little thirty-two-gun frigate, the first to get tosea of those ordered by Congress in 1775, was just leaving thebeautiful harbor of Charleston, South Carolina, by way of the main shipchannel, on her maiden cruise, under the command of Captain JohnSeymour Seymour, late first lieutenant of the Ranger. This was thesecond departure she had taken from that port. Forced by severedamages, incurred in an encounter with a heavy gale shortly afterleaving Philadelphia, to put into that harbor for needed repairs to thenew and unsettled vessel, she had put to sea again after a shortinterval, and in one week had taken six valuable prizes, one of them,an armed vessel of twenty guns, after a short action. After this briefand brilliant excursion she had put back to Charleston to dispose ofher prizes, re-collect her prize crews, and land her prisoners.
There was another motive, however, for the sudden return. From one ofthe prizes it had been learned that the English thirty-two-gun frigateCarrysford, the twenty-gun sloop Perseus, the sixteen-gun sloopHinchinbrook, with several privateers, had been cruising off the coasttogether, and the commander of the Randolph was most anxious to get thehelp of some of the South Carolina State cruisers to go in search ofthe British ships. The indefatigable Governor Rutledge, when the newshad been communicated to him, had worked assiduously to provide theState ships, and the young captain of the Randolph speedily foundhimself at the head of a little fleet of war vessels outward bound.
The departure of the squadron, the Randolph in the lead, the restfollowing, and all under full sail, made a pretty picture to theenthusiastic Carolinians, who watched them from the islands andfortifications in the harbor, and from a number of small boats whichaccompanied the war ships a short distance on their voyage. BesidesSeymour's own vessel, there were the eighteen-gun ship GeneralMoultrie, the two sixteen-gun ships Notre Dame and Polly, and thefourteen-gun brig Fair American; the last commanded by a certainmaster, Philip Wilton. They made officers of very young men in thosedays, and mere boys often occupied positions of trust andresponsibility apparently far beyond their years,--even Seymourhimself, though now a commodore or flag officer by courtesy, was veryyoung for the position; and Governor Rutledge, moved by a warmfriendship of long standing for old Colonel Wilton, and upon Seymour'sown urgent recommendation, had intrusted the smallest vessel to youngCaptain Philip. We shall see how he showed himself worthy of the trustreposed in him in spite of his tender years.
All of these ships were converted merchantmen, hastily fitted out,poorly adapted for any warlike purpose, and, with the exception of theFair American, exceedingly slow and unwieldy; but the heart of theyoung commander filled with pride as he surveyed the little squadron,which followed in his wake, looking handsome enough under full sail.It was a great trust and responsibility reposed in his skill andexperience; doubtless it was the only fleet the country had assembled,or could assemble, at that time; the ships were certainly not as hewould have desired them, but they were the best that could be gottogether; and manned and officered by devoted men, they could at leastfight ships of their own size when the time came, and he trusted to beable to give a good account of the enemy, should they be so fortunateas to fall in with them. As for his own vessel, as his practised andcritical eye surveyed the graceful proportions of the new andwell-appointed ship, Seymour felt entirely satisfied with her. Heregarded with pleasant appreciation the decks white as constantholy-stoning could make them, the long rows of grim black gunsthrusting out their formidable muzzles on either side, and the loftyspars covered with clouds of new and snowy canvas. Everything was asneat and trim, and as ready, as ardor, experience, and ability, coupledwith a generous expenditure from his own purse, could make them. Hewas satisfied with his officers and crew too. Seymour's reputation,his recent association with Paul Jones, the romantic story of his lastsuccessful cruise, the esteem in which he was held by Washington, andhis own charming personality had conspired to render him a greatfavorite, and he had had the pick of Philadelphia's hardy seamen andgallant officers ere he sailed away. The three hundred and odd seamenand marines who comprised the crew were as fit and capable a body ofmen as ever trod the deck of a ship. Constant exercise and carefulinstruction, and drill and target practice, had made them exceedinglyable in all the necessary manoeuvres, and in the handling of the guns.
Forward on the forecastle old Bentley was planted, surrounded by suchof the older and more experienced petty officers and men as hepermitted to associate with him on terms of more or less familiarity.Not only the position he occupied, that of boatswain of the frigate,gave him a vast importance with the men, but his age and experience,his long association with the captain, as well as some almostincredible tales of his familiar companionship with certain men ofawe-inspiring name and great renown, with various mighty feats of armsin recent campaigns, vaguely current, conduced to make him the monarchof the forecastle, and the arbiter of the various discussions andarguments among the men, who rarely ventured to dispute the dictum oftheir oracle.
"Well, here we are pointing out again, thank the Lord!" he said to hisparticular friend and crony among the crew, the carpenter, RichardSpicer, a battered old shell-back, like himself. "There is only oneplace from which I like to see the land, Richard!"
"And where is that, bosun?"
"Over the stern, as now, mate, when we 're going free with a fair wind,and leaving it fast behind. I feel safer then. A time since and Ifelt as if I never wanted to see it again from any place. To think ofme, a decent God-fearing, seafaring man, at my time of life, turningsoldier!" It is not in the power of written language to express thepeculiar intonation of contempt which the old man laid upon thatinoffensive word, "soldier." No one venturing to interrupt him, afterstaring at his particular aversion for a few moments, he went on moremildly, and in a reflective tone,--
"Not but what I have seen some decent soldiers--a few. There was oldBlodgett, and young Mr. Talbot, ay, and General Washington too! Nowthere 's a man for you, ship-mates. Lord, what a sailorman he wouldhave made! They tell me he had a midshipman's warrant offered him whenhe was a lad once, and actually refused it--refused it! preferred to bea soldier, and what a chance he lost! Might have been an admiral bynow!"
"I 've heard tell as how 't was his mother that prevented him fromgoin' to sea--when he was ready an' willin' an' waitin' to get aboard,"returned one of the men.
"May be, may be. The result's the same. You never can tell whatwomen, and 'specially mothers, will do. They 're necessary, of course,leastways it's generally believed we all had 'em, though I remembernone myself, nor Captain Seymour neither, and he 's a pretty good sortof a man--let alone me--but they've no place aboard ship. Now lookwhat this one did,--spoiled a man that had the makin's of a first-classsailor in him, and turned him into a soldier!"
"But where would we be in this country of ours now, bosun, if it werenot for the soldiers? No, no, don't be too hard on this man, CaptainWashington; he 's done his duty, and is doing it very well, too, so I'm told, accordin' to your own account, matey," replied the oldcarpenter; "and soldiers is good too--in their places, that is, ofcourse," he went on deprecatingly. "There are two kinds of men, as Itake it, William, to do the fightin' in this world, sailormen andsoldiermen; each has a place, a station to fill, and something to do,and one can't do t' other's work. Look at that there blasted marine,aft there in the gangway, for instance; he's a good man, I make nomanner o' doubt, and he has got his place on this barkey, even if he isonly a kind of a soldier and no sailorman at all."
"Now I asks you, Chips, what particular good are soldiers, anyway,leaving marines out of the question, for they do live on ships," saidthe old sailorman. "What can they do that we can't? They can fight,and fight hard--I 've seen 'em, but so can we," he continued, extendinghis brawny arm; "and they can march, too,--I've seen their bloodyfootmarks in the snow; but there were sailormen there that kept rightalong
side of 'em and did all that they could do. Oh, I forgot onething--they can ride horses, that's one thing I could never learn atall! You 'd ought to seen me on one of the land-lubberly brutes. Ahorse has no place on shipboard, no more than a woman, and I 've no usefor either of 'em. But if this country would spend all its moneybuying ships, and man 'em with real first-class sailormen, why, d'yesee, King George's men could never land on our shores at all. We 'dkeep 'em off, and then there'd be no use for the soldiers; they couldall go a-farming. No, give me ships every time, they always win. Iknow what I am talking about; I have been on the shore for a month at atime until I thought I would turn into mud itself. No, 't is not evena fit place to be buried in; 'earth to earth' won't do for me when Idie; I just want to be dropped overboard--there."
"There is one time ships didn't win," said the carpenter, persisting inthe argument, and pointing aft to the low mounds of sand backed by therudely interlaced palmetto logs, behind which the gallant Moultrie hadfought Barker's fleet six months before, until the ships had beendriven off in defeat.
"Those were British ships, man," said the old sailor, with contempt."I meant Americans, of course; it makes all the difference in theworld. But as for land--I hate it. It's only good to grow vegetables,and soft tack, and fresh water, and tar, and timber, and breed childrento make sailormen out of--why, it's a sort of a cook's galley, akitchen they call it there, for the sea at best! Give me the sight ofblue water, and let me have the solid feel of the deck beneath my feet;no unsteady earth for me!"
"Well, that's my own opinion, too, bo. But, after all, that's all thatships is good for, anyway; just to sail from land to land and takepeople and things from place to place. The sea's between like."
"You look at it the wrong way, mate. Certain of us men have senseenough to live on the sea, and keep away from land, except for waterand provision. We go from sea to sea, and land 's between."
"And what would you do for a country if we had no land? You 're alwaystalking about lovin' your country, bosun."
"Ay, that I do," said the old man. "I look upon a country, that is aland country, as a kind of necessary evil. My country 's this ship,and yon flag, what it means and stands for. It means liberty, freewaters, no interference with peaceful traders on the high seas,following their rightful pursuits, by British ships-of-war. Every manthat has ever been aboard of one of those floating hells knows whatliberty is not, well enough. No taxing of us by a Parliament on t'other side of the world, neither. No king but the captain. Freedom!So free that the lubberliest landsman on shore has a right to governhimself--if he can--subject to discipline and the commands of hissuperior officer, of course; and, besides, it's like a man's wife; ifhe's got to have one, he may beat her and abuse her, perhaps, butnobody else shall. No! Land's a pretty poor sort of a thing ingeneral, but that aft there is the best there is going, and it 's ourown. We 'll die for it, yes, for love of it, if it comes to that, evenif we do hate it, on general principles mind, you understand."
There was evidently a trace of Irish blood in the old sailor, it wouldseem, and so saying, with a wave of his hand, which brushed asidefurther argument, he turned abruptly on his heel and walked aft. Inspite of all his words, which only reflected the usual opinion ofsailors, in those days at least, he yielded to no man in patriotism anddevotion to the cause of liberty and the land that gave him birth. Andno man in all Washington's army had done better service, marched morecheerfully, or fought harder than this veteran seaman. The men on theforecastle generally agreed with him in his propositions, but theobstinate old carpenter, with the characteristic tenacity of theancient tar, maintained the discussion forward, until the sharp voiceof the officer of the deck sent all hands to the braces. The ship wasbrought to the wind on the starboard tack, a manoeuvre which wasfollowed in succession by the other vessels of the squadron, which hadbeen previously directed to keep, though still within signal, at longdistances from each other during the day, closing up at night, in orderto spread a broad clew and give greater chance of meeting the enemy.
The young captain paced the quarter-deck alone--no man is ever so muchalone among his fellows as the commander of a ship--a prey to his ownsad thoughts. Those who had known him the gayest of gay young sailorsin Philadelphia were at a loss to account for the change which had comeover him. He had become the gravest of the grave, his cheery laugh washeard no more, and the baffled young belles of Charleston had voted hima confirmed woman-hater; though his melancholy, handsome face, gracefulperson, distinguished bearing, and high station might have enabled himto pick and choose where he would. But there was room in his heart forno more passions. Even his love of country and liberty had degeneratedinto a slow, cold hate for the British, and a desperate resolve to dohis duty, and make his animosity tell when he struck. A dangerous manunder whom to sail, gentleman of the Randolph, and a dangerous man tomeet, as well. He could not forget Kate, and, except in thedistraction of a combat, life was a mere mechanical routine for him.But because he had been well trained he went through it well--bidinghis time.
For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution Page 31
