Captured on the High Seas

by Marianne Hering

  “That happened by chance,” Henry said.

  James grinned. “Do you think so?”

  “You can’t do that again,” Henry said.

  “Let’s give him another try,” Patrick said.

  They set up the game and gave James the shooter.

  He didn’t miss a single shot.

  Patrick was impressed. It looked as if Henry was too.

  James played another game with the same results. Captain Bazely walked in as they finished.

  “Nobody shoots a perfect game!” Henry cried, jumping to his feet. “Father, watch what James can do!”

  Captain Bazely watched as James displayed his skill. The captain said, “You are a skilled lad.” Then he turned toward the desk. He picked up the paper Henry had been writing on. “But I’m more impressed with the letters.” The captain looked at James. “Did you teach Henry to write this?”

  James stood up. “Yes, sir!” he said. “I’ll see to it, sir, that Henry practices his reading, too. I’ll teach him from a Bible in my bag.”

  The captain nodded. “Quite so. Be sure to teach Patrick how to read as well.” He turned and headed outside.

  “I know how to read and write,” Patrick told James.

  “You can help me with Henry’s lessons, then,” James said. “Let’s get my Bible.”

  They left the captain’s cabin. Patrick saw Beth’s head peek out of a hole in the deck. He was glad to see she was okay.

  “There you are,” Beth said. She climbed up the ladder to stand before the boys. She straightened her jacket. “Can you help me carry salt meat up from the hold?” she asked Patrick.

  Patrick looked at James.

  “Go ahead,” James said. “You can help with the reading lessons later.”

  “Reading lessons!” Henry cried. “I’ve had enough schooling for one day.” Henry ran off.

  James groaned and raced after him.

  “Listen,” Beth said when she was alone with Patrick. “The cook needs someone to carry small casks of meat up from the hold. We can fill our casks with gunpowder between trips. Then we’ll dump the powder over the side of the ship. We can empty out the barrels of gunpowder. There won’t be any left to fire the cannons.”

  Patrick thought a minute. That sounded as if it would take too much time. And it would be dangerous. “What if we get caught?” he asked.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Beth asked. “We should do something to help the American ships.”

  Patrick didn’t know what else to do. Mr. Whittaker couldn’t have put him on the ship to play marbles.

  Beth tugged at Patrick’s arm. “Let’s get started,” she said. “Danger or no danger, we have to try to help.”

  Sword Fight

  Patrick helped Beth for the next couple of days. They brought casks of salt meat up from the hold. Then they moved the casks to the kitchen.

  They dumped the salt meat into a large water barrel. The meat soaked so the salt would come out of the meat.

  Patrick and Beth stayed in the hold between trips. They took gunpowder from large barrels and filled different casks. They moved the empty gunpowder barrels to the back of the hold. Then they dragged the full ones forward.

  Patrick would check that no British crew members were looking. Then Beth would dump the powder out through the gun ports.

  “Cannons are useless without gunpowder,” Lieutenant Prescott said to encourage them. “This British ship won’t capture any more prisoners for a while.”

  Patrick liked the feeling of danger. He liked sneaking around the ship. He liked knowing he was helping his country.

  One morning Patrick was filling up his cask with gunpowder. Beth was nearby filling hers. Lieutenant Prescott slept in his cage nearby.

  Patrick looked out over all the gunpowder barrels they’d emptied. They still had five more to go.

  Patrick tipped one of the full barrels on its side. He began to carefully roll it forward. But right at that moment the ship dipped. The barrel rolled loose and banged into a wall.

  Patrick looked up. He saw a British sailor coming down the ladder.

  Patrick motioned to Beth to hide.

  Beth ducked behind a stack of sea chests. Patrick hid behind a group of barrels.

  The sailor reached the bottom of the ladder. He looked inside the cage. “I’ve been hearing noises down here,” he said to Lieutenant Prescott. “You don’t have any friends trying to help you escape, do you?”

  Lieutenant Prescott stood and stretched slowly. “Let me see,” he said. He kicked at the straw and looked under his bunk. “No one here, unless you count the rats.”

  “Very funny,” the British sailor said. “I know I heard something.” He turned and peered into the dark shadows.

  Patrick held his breath. He crouched down as low as possible.

  The sailor’s footsteps came closer to Patrick. “The noise sounded like moving barrels,” the sailor said. “And why is that gunpowder barrel open?”

  Patrick could hear the sailor’s breath. The British man was closing in on him!

  Dear God, Patrick prayed silently. Please don’t let us be caught!

  Just then Patrick heard a loud crash. He peeked between the barrels.

  Lieutenant Prescott had kicked down the door to his cage. The bars were ripped right out of the wood.

  The lieutenant had his sword in hand. He slashed it through the air.

  “I don’t need help to escape from you British dogs!” he said. “Come and fight me!”

  The sailor jumped back and drew his sword.

  Clash! Clang!

  Swords struck together as the men fought.

  The lieutenant was clearly the better swordsman. He lured the British sailor away from Patrick.

  Crash! Food barrels fell over as the men jumped between them.

  Patrick heard running feet on the deck above. British sailors clattered down the ladder.

  “What’s going on?” one sailor shouted.

  “An escaped American,” another cried.

  Soon the hold was filled with British crew members. Even Cookie was there.

  Shouts and noise and confusion were everywhere.

  Patrick crawled to Beth’s hiding spot. “Let’s pretend we ran down to watch too,” he said. “Now, while they’re all watching the fight.”

  The sailors waved their pistols and swords. They cheered for their countryman.

  “Huzza! Huzza!” Cookie cried.

  “Cut him to the quick,” the others said.

  Nobody noticed as the cousins joined the group watching the fight.

  Just then Captain Bazely hurried down the ladder. He aimed his pistol at the two men fighting. He shouted, “Put down your arms!”

  The men stopped fighting. They dropped their swords. Both were breathing hard.

  “Explain yourselves,” Captain Bazely said.

  The British sailor spoke up. “Lieutenant Prescott escaped and attacked me with his sword,” he said. “He should be flogged and shot!”

  Patrick felt terrible. He knew Lieutenant Prescott had done this to save them.

  Captain Bazely narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said. “American officers are too valuable. We can trade them for British prisoners.”

  Captain Bazely pointed his pistol at Lieutenant Prescott. “Back inside the cage,” he said. He shouted to an officer nearby, “Fix that door. Make certain he can’t escape again. I want two guards to watch him day and night.”

  The officer saluted. “Aye, Captain,” he said.

  The captain turned to go. His eye caught Patrick and Beth. He frowned. “What are you boys doing here?” he asked. “What’s in your casks?”

  Patrick’s stomach dropped down to his feet. He didn’t know what to say. The captain might not shoot an American officer. But he and Beth were just cabin boys.

  Just then Cookie stepped out from the crowd. “They’re bringing up salt meat,” Cookie said. “I sent them down here.”

  The captain nodded. “Quite
so. Carry on.”

  Patrick’s hands shook as he carried his cask up the ladder. Beth followed behind him.

  Patrick waited until they were alone on deck. Then he whispered to Beth, “Now what will we do? We can’t empty the rest of the barrels now. Not with two guards nearby.”

  Just then James and Henry came toward them. James was lecturing Henry angrily. Henry looked at the deck with a frown.

  “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

  “Henry sneaked away from me during the commotion,” James said. “I found him on the gun deck throwing the rammers overboard!”

  “What are rammers?” Beth asked.

  Henry looked at Beth as if she had asked a stupid question.

  “They’re long sticks,” James said. Sailors use them to pack the powder in the cannons.”

  “I remember them,” Beth said. “From the battle when we were captured.”

  “What will your father say?” James said to Henry. “Without the rammers the cannons are useless. Do you think he’ll be pleased with you? Do you want to be captured?”

  Patrick and Beth looked at each other. They had the same idea.

  Henry laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a jolly good time?” he said. “I’d like to be a prisoner. I wouldn’t have to practice my letters or learn to read.”

  “Don’t talk like a fool,” James said. “From now on you’ll be like my captive. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Come on, we have lessons to attend to.”

  Henry whined as he followed James across the deck.

  Patrick waited until nobody was looking. Then he and Beth went over to the gun ports. They dumped the gunpowder out of their casks.

  “Let’s meet later after I serve the captain his meal,” Beth said. “We have to figure out how to finish the job Henry started.”

  Patrick nodded. But he was worried. Dumping the gunpowder over the side of the ship seemed easy. Destroying the rammers was another thing entirely. It was likely they’d be caught.

  Unwelcome News

  Beth pushed open the door to the captain’s cabin. Captain Bazely was busy at his desk. He was writing on a sheet of parchment.

  Beth set a plate of food on a small table. The captain ignored her.

  She walked back to the kitchen area. Cookie stood next to the stove. Onion Jim was perched on his shoulder.

  The cook tossed a gold coin up in the air. Onion Jim tried to catch it. But the cook was quicker and grabbed it. Then he held the prize up for Beth to see.

  “Pirate’s gold from the ship we captured,” he said. “Onion Jim wasn’t the only prize we took from the pirates.”

  Cookie stuffed the gold coin in his apron pocket. “The captain will want his tea,” he said. He pointed to a pot hanging on a hook near the stove.

  Onion Jim screeched. “Give us a ride,” he squawked. He flew to Beth’s shoulder. She tried to shoo him away. But the bird clung to her jacket. Beth slipped out of the garment, and the bird flew off.

  “Not now,” Beth said to him. She hung her jacket up on a nearby hook. She picked up the hot pot of tea with a rag. Then she headed to the captain’s cabin.

  Beth passed a row of cannons as she left the kitchen deck. She noted the long sticks next to each one. Several sailors busied themselves scrubbing the deck. I wish no one else was here, she thought. I’d pitch those rammers into the sea right now.

  She saw British sailors in the hold. They were busy guarding several American prisoners who had moved there. She couldn’t get close to Lieutenant Prescott.

  Beth carried the tea into the captain’s cabin. He now sat at a small table. He was eating the food she’d brought him earlier.

  She set the tea next to him. A sailor walked in behind her. “You called, Captain?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Captain Bazely said. “It’s time to drop off the rebel prisoners at the Old Jersey.”

  Beth poured tea into a pewter mug.

  Captain Bazely said. “Orders are to sail north to New York at once.”

  Beth’s hands shook as she finished pouring the tea. She hurried back to Cookie and filled the pot with fresh water. She put the pot back on the hook next to the stove. She wanted to tell Patrick the news right away.

  Onion Jim hopped up and down on one of the barrels. “Give us a ride, dearie,” he squawked like an old lady. “Pretty please?”

  Cookie looked up from the stove. He was stirring a big pot. He frowned.

  “That bird won’t be quiet until you give him a ride,” Cookie said. “Take him along while you bring food to the crew.” He pointed to a bucket on the floor. “There’s some potatoes to deliver. Then come right back.”

  Beth groaned.

  Onion Jim flapped his wings and landed on Beth’s shoulder. He pecked at her cap. But she held on to it tightly with one hand.

  Beth took the food to the crew members. She served the potatoes and then hurried off to look for Patrick. “You better behave yourself,” she said to Onion Jim.

  She found Patrick on the top deck. He was sitting on a coil of rope. James and Henry sat next to him. Each of them was sewing a piece of white cloth.

  Without looking up, Patrick said, “James is teaching Henry to make a ditty bag. I’m learning too.”

  “What’s a ditty bag?” Beth asked.

  Patrick finished a stitch. He cut a piece of thread with a small knife. Then he held up the bag.

  “Sailors use them to hold their personal stuff,” he said. “Like a comb or lump of soap.”

  Beth felt the sun warm her skin, but her mood was cool. Beth turned her bucket upside down to make a stool. She sat on it and looked around. She wanted to make sure no one could hear her.

  Patrick noticed her serious expression. “What’s wrong, Beth?” he asked.

  Onion Jim squawked, “What’s wrong, Beth?” The bird sounded just like Patrick.

  “Seth,” Patrick said quickly. “I meant Seth.”

  Beth pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Captain Bazely just gave orders to sail to New York. He’s going to put us on the prison ship there.”

  Patrick, Henry, and James all stopped their work.

  Beth saw a look of fear flash across James’s face.

  “What does this mean?” Patrick asked.

  Henry shrugged. “We put all the prisoners on docked ships,” he said. “Then we try to capture more.”

  “Those ships are floating graveyards,” James said. “I’ve heard that most of the prisoners die.”

  Henry looked down at the ditty bag he was sewing. He shook his head. “They don’t all die on the ships,” he said. “A lot of them are sent to the West Indies to be slaves.”

  Beth gasped and looked at Patrick and James. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  The Declaration

  Hearing the news about the slave trade stunned Patrick. He couldn’t sew on the ditty bag any longer. He put down the fabric and the knife.

  Beth looked shocked.

  James said, “I was hoping it wouldn’t be so soon.”

  Everyone sat without moving. What can we do? Patrick wondered. There was no answer to his question.

  Henry looked up at them. He seemed puzzled. Then he seemed to understand what would happen. His mouth fell open. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “I have to get back to the kitchen,” Beth said. She stood and picked up the empty bucket. She mumbled a cheerless good-bye and walked away.

  Patrick heard Onion Jim squawk, “What’s wrong, Beth?” as she climbed down the ladder.

  A cold breeze passed over Patrick. The sunshine seemed to fade. He shivered.

  James looked sad. “My grandfather was a slave. He told us terrible stories,” he said. “My parents and I are free.”

  Patrick didn’t know what to say.

  “That’s why I joined up to fight,” James said. “I heard the very first reading of the Declaration of Independence. It was read aloud to the colonists on July 8, 1776. I stood in front of the statehouse with them.”

&n
bsp; “That was Philadelphia, right?” Patrick said.

  “Philadelphia is my home,” James said. He stood up and held on to the rail. He looked out over the wide blue sea. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,” he said slowly and softly.

  Patrick knew he was quoting from the Declaration of Independence.

  James continued, “That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

  Patrick felt his heart stir at the words. But he also felt angry. James could still be sold as a slave under American law. Blacks were still not free.

  Patrick glanced at Henry. Henry kept his head down. He appeared to be hard at work on the ditty bag.

  James leaned back against the rail. “I heard the very last sentence of the declaration too,” he said. “That’s when I decided to fight for liberty.”

  “What does that line say?” Patrick asked.

  “And for the support of this Declaration,” James said, “with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

  Patrick had never heard that part before.

  “That’s why black soldiers are joining the fight,” James said. “Both slave and free. Last month I saw George Washington. He and his troops marched through Philadelphia. The members of the Rhode Island Regiment are black like I am. Blacks are fighting for the day when everyone will be free.”

  Patrick gaped at James. “You saw George Washington? In person?”

  James nodded.

  “I wish I could see him,” Patrick said. “He’s a hero.”

  James smiled. “Yes, he is.”

  Just then one of the British sailors approached them. “Are you James Forten?” he asked James.

  “Yes, sir,” James said.

  “Captain Bazely wants to see you,” the sailor said. “Come with me.”

  James turned to Patrick. “Look after Henry,” he said. Then James and the sailor left quickly.

  Patrick crouched down next to Henry. “What do you think, Henry?” he asked carefully. “Do you want James to be sold as a slave?”