The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER III.

  THE UNFORGOTTEN HERO.

  More than one day's work was required to ascertain the full value ofthe _Windsor_ as a bearer of supplies to the forts and ships of theUnited States, instead of to those of Great Britain.

  "All the things the _Noank_ was short of," Captain Avery said, "aregoin' into her now. There isn't any secret to be kept concernin' hersailin' orders, either. She's bound for the West Indies to see whatshe can do."

  Perhaps it was at his own table that his plans and the reasons for themwere most thoroughly discussed, but all his crew and their manyadvisers were satisfied, and a number of prime seamen who were not togo on this trip roundly declared their great envy of those who could.

  "Tobacco," they said, "sugar, if it's a home-bound trader. If it's onefrom England, then Lyme'll get loads o' 'sorted stuff, such as theyship for the West Injy trade."

  There were other vessels preparing and some were already at sea. Theyear, therefore, promised to be a busy one for New London. So it didin a number of other American ports, and it behooved Great Britain toincrease, if she could, the number and efficiency of her cruisers.

  One continual black shadow rested over the port and town, and that wasthe great probability of a British attack, at no distant day.

  "They've their hands pretty full, just now," people said. "The winterisn't their best time, either, but some day or other we shall see afleet out yonder, and redcoats and Hessians and Tories boating ashore."

  It was an entirely reasonable prediction, but its fulfilment was to bealmost unaccountably postponed. When its hour arrived, at last, nearlytwo years later, New London was in ashes and Fort Griswold was aslaughter-pen.

  "Mother," said Guert, on his return to the house from one of his visitsto the _Noank_. "I wish you could go with us to the West Indies, theAntilles. Think of it! Summer all the while!"

  "But no oranges, or lemons, or pineapples just now," she saidlaughingly. "I mean to go, some day. Perhaps you will take me in yourown ship."

  "Any ship of mine will be your ship," he said. "I wish I had somemoney to leave with you, now. It's awful to think of your being poor."

  "Our New York farm will be of no use to us," she said, "until theking's troops leave the island. I shall be very comfortable here,though, except that I shall all the while be waiting for you to comehome again."

  Very brave was she, under her somewhat difficult circumstances. Allthe New London people were kind, especially the Averys, but sheexpected to be poor in purse for some time to come. As to that,however, she had a surprise in store. That very evening, after dark,Up-na-tan lingered in the kitchen.

  "Chief see ole woman," he said. "See nobody but Guert mother."

  No sooner were they alone than he pulled from under his capturedmilitary cloak a small purse, and handed it to her.

  "No Kidd money," he said. "Lobster money. Pay ole woman for KingGeorge take farm."

  She hesitated a moment, and then she exclaimed:--

  "God sent it, I do believe! I'll take it. You won't need it at sea."

  "Up-na-tan no want money," he replied contemptuously. "Ole chief gofight. Come back. Go to ole woman house. Own house. Money belong toole woman."

  "Thank you!" she said.

  "No," grumbled the Indian; "no thank at all. Up-na-tan good!"

  So the conference ended, for he stalked out of the house, and sheexamined the purse.

  "Nearly twenty pounds, of all sorts," she said. "Now I needn't borrowof Rachel for ever so long. I want to let Guert know. He will feelbetter."

  The Indian had but obeyed the simple rules of his training. Any kindof game, however captured, was for the squaw of his wigwam toadminister. Her business would be to provide for the hunter as bestshe could. In former days he had always been free of the Ten Eyckhouse and farm. It was his. The game he had recently taken was in theform of gold and silver, but there could be no question as to what hewas bound to do with it.

  Neither he or his Ashantee comrade were inclined to spend much time onshore. Hardly anything could induce them to come away from the keenpleasure they were having in the handling and stowage of much powderand shot. The varied weapons which they examined and put in order wereas so many jewels, to be fondly admired and even patted.

  If Mrs. Ten Eyck had anything else to depress her spirits she tried notto let Guert know it. All her table talk, when he was there, wasbrimming with warlike patriotism. Nevertheless, he was her only sonand she was a widow. She could not but wish, at times, that he were asoldier instead of a sailor, to belong to the quiet garrison of FortGriswold, for instance, and to come over to the Avery house now andthen.

  He was sent for, somewhat peremptorily, one day, not by her but byRachel Tarns, and when he arrived she herself opened the door for him.

  "I am glad thee came so early," she said to him. "I have somewhat tosay to thee. Come in, hither."

  Very dignified was she, at any time, and he was accustomed to obey herwithout asking needless questions. He followed her, therefore, as sheled on into the parlor, opposite the dining room, the main thought inhis mind being:--

  "I wish she'd hurry up with it. I want to get back to the _Noank_, assoon as I've seen mother."

  "What is it?" he began, after the door of the parlor closed behindthem, but she cut him short.

  "I will not quite tell thee," she said. "Some things thee does notneed to know. Thy old friend, Maud Wolcott, will be here presently.One cometh with her to whom I forbid thee to speak. After they arrive,thou art to do as I shall then direct thee."

  "All right," said Guert. "I don't care who it is. I'll be glad to seeMaud, though. She's about the best girl I know. Pretty, too."

  Hardly were the words out of his mouth before there came a jingle ofsleighbells in the road, and it ceased before the house.

  "Remain thee here," said Rachel, as she arose and hurried out.

  Guert obeyed, but he went to a window and he saw a trim-looking,two-seated sleigh. A man he did not know was hitching the horse to thepost near the gate. The sleigh had brought a full load of passengers,all women.

  "That's Maud Wolcott," exclaimed Guert. "The girl that's with her istaller than she is, and she's all muffled up. I can't see her face.How Maud did jump out o' that cutter! The two others are old women.Rachel knows 'em."

  The first girl out of the sleigh was in the house quickly. She camelike a flash into the parlor and, as her hood flew back, a mass ofbrown curls went tumbling down over her shoulders.

  "Guert!" she said, breathlessly. "I'm so glad you're here! We weretold you were going."

  "We're going!" said Guert. "We're bound for the West Indies. We'vetaken one British ship, already. I'm a privateer, Maud! Oh! but ain'tI glad to see you again. It's like old times!"

  "You're growing," she said. "I wish I could go to sea, or fight theBritish. We haven't any chance to talk, now."

  He might be very glad, but, after all, he seemed a little afraid, and akind of bashfulness grew upon him as he shook hands with her. She musthave been a year younger than he was,--but then, she was so verypretty, and he was only a boy.

  Half a dozen questions and answers went back and forth between them, asbetween old acquaintances, near neighbors. Then the parlor door openedto let in Rachel Tarns and the "all muffled up" girl who had been inthe sleigh with Maud. She did not speak to anybody, but went and satdown, silently, at the other window of the parlor.

  "Guert," said Rachel, "sit thee down here, by me and Maud. Thee willtalk only of what I bid thee, and thee will ask no foolish questions."

  "All right," said Guert. "What is it you want me to say? Maud hasn'ttold me, yet, half o' what I want to know."

  "If thee were older," she said, "thee would have more good sense. Ihave a reason that I will not tell thee. I wish thee to give me a fullaccount of all thy dealings with that brave man, Nathan Hale. Thee sawhim die, and there is no other that knoweth many things that are wellknown to
thee."

  "I hate to tell everything," he said.

  "Thee must!" exclaimed Rachel. "Thee will not leave out a word that hespake or a deed that he did."

  Something flashed brightly into the quick mind of Guert just then. Hecould not exactly shape it, but it came when he caught the sound of alow sob from under the veil of the girl at the other window. "I'llbegin where I first saw him," he said.

  He did not at all know after that how his boyish enthusiasm helped himto draw his word pictures of Captain Hale's daring scout work, of boatand land adventures by night and day, in company with him and Up-na-tanand Coco. He told it more rapidly and vividly as a kind of excitementspurred him. He did not know that beyond the half-open door of thenext room his mother and several other persons were listening. Two ofthem had come in the cutter with Maud, and yet another sleigh hadbrought visitors to the Avery house. There were to be very loving andtenacious memories to treasure all that he was telling.

  Guert came at last, sorrowfully, more slowly, to the tragic end of allin the old orchard near the East River. He told of the troops, and thecrowd, and the tree, and he repeated the last words of the hero whoperished there.

  "That I can give but one life for Liberty!" he said, and there his ownvoice choked him, while a whisper from beyond the door said softly:"Glory! Glory! Glory!"

  Throughout Guert's narrative, there had been something almost painfulin the forward-leaning eagerness of the veiled girl at the window. Shewas standing now, and a sigh that was more a sob broke from her as sheheld out to him a hand with something that she was grasping tightly.Rachel stepped forward and took it, opening it as she did so. Only asmall, leather case it was, containing a miniature.

  "My boy," said Rachel, "is that like thy friend? Look well at it.Tell me."

  "It's a real good picture," said Guert, wiping his eyes as he lookedmore closely. "It's like him, but there isn't the light and the smilethat was on his face when he stood with the rope around his neck underthat old apple tree."

  "That is enough," said Rachel, turning away with the miniature. "Ithink not many eyes will ever see this thing again."

  "Not any," came faintly from under the veil. "I mean to have it buriedwith me. Nobody else has any right to it. I must go now."

  The girl at the window had risen as she spoke. She came forward andtook Guert's hand for a moment. Then, in a voice that was tremulouswith feeling, she said:--

  "Let me thank you for all you have said. Thank you for your friendshipfor him. God bless you!"

  In spite of its sadness, her voice had in it a half-triumphant tone.Rachel gave her back the miniature, and she turned to go. No one spoketo her. Guert could not have said a word if he had tried, but Maudsprang to her side.

  "Good-by, Guert," she said. "I'll see you again, some day. I'm goingwith her, now."

  "Good-by, Maud," said Guert. "I did so want a talk with you, but Is'pose I can't this time. We are to sail right away. The _Noank's_all ready."

  Both of the sleighs at the gate were quickly crowded. They were drivenaway, and hardly had the jingling of their bells died out up the road,before Rachel Tarns came and put an arm around Guert. She, too, waswiping her eyes.

  "Thee was a brave, good boy," she said, "and I love thee very much.Thee is too young, now, and thy picture hath never been painted. Someday thee may need one to give away, as Nathan did. If it shall pleaseGod to let thee die for thy country, somebody may will to keep it inmemory of thee."

  "Mother would," said Guert. "I'll get one, as soon as I can. ButNathan Hale'll be remembered well enough without any picture. All themen in America 'll remember him. He was a hero!"

  The voice of Vine Avery was at the front door, shouting loudly forGuert, and out he darted, not even stopping to inquire who of all thefriends or family of his hero had been listening in the dining room.

  "What is it?" he eagerly asked, as he joined Vine at the doorstep.

  "Powder and shot all stowed," said Vine. "Everything's ready now. Assoon as the rest of the _Windsor's_ cargo's out, they're going to towher up the river, out o' harm's way. Father says we're to be all onboard, now. Come on!"

  "Oh, Guert!" said his mother, for she had followed him, and her armswere around his neck. "I can't say a word to keep you back! Be asbrave as Nathan Hale was! God keep you from all harm! Do your duty!Good-by!"

  It was an awful struggle for poor Guert, but he would not let himselfcry before Vine Avery and the sailors who were with him. All he coulddo, therefore, was to hug his mother and kiss her. His last good-bywent into her ear and down into her heart in a low, hoarse whisper.

  Away marched the last squad of the crew of the _Noank_, and Mrs. Averystood at the gate and watched them until they were hidden from her eyesbeyond the turn of the road.