Now, we fought duels in Kentucky and Tennessee, but here in the North and East they were condemned, which seemed to me an entirely proper view to take of them. Moreover, the great shock caused by the killing of Mr. Hamilton by Mr. Burr in sight of this very city was remembered by everybody.
WE SEE A PLAY. 135
New York was the last place in which I expected to receive a challenge to a deadly combat.
" Nonsense," said Mercer qu ickly ; " my friend, Mr. Philip Ten Broeck, of Kentucky, is not afraid of you or anybody else; but he, like Mr. Courtenay and myself, thinks it absurd to fight a duel over such a trivial matter. There is no cause of quarrel; you can not name one yourself."
But they would have it that I must fight, and their belligerency increased with our reluctance. The cooler our tempers became, the warmer grew theirs. Mr. Van Steenkerk's chief friend was introduced as Mr. Percy Knowlton; the names of the others I forget. We gave them our names, and, as they were turning out the lights and closing the theatre, we walked out into the park together, where we stopped in a group.
" Then," said Courtenay, " you gentlemen can not rest satisfied unless our Mr. Ten Broeck fights your Mr. Van Steenkerk."
" Unless he is willing to be branded as a coward," said Mr. Knowlton.
" That, of course, is impossible," said Courtenay, " and since you have no other alternative, Ten Broeck shall fight him."
" But I don't want to," I protested.
" You shall do it nevertheless," said Courtenay firm ly. " The choice of weapons is ours. We will meet you somewhere to-morrow and arrange the details; where shall it be? "
" I would propose the old duelling ground at Wee- hawken," said Mr. Knowlton, " but it would be better not to go there. But I know a good quiet spot over on Long Island that will do."
He named a place far back of the little town of Brooklyn, near the sea, and described it so that we could not miss it.
136 A HERALD OP THE WEST.
We agreed to this, and saying good night to each other very politely went to our respective lodgings.
Courtenay, Mercer, and I had a bed each in a large room on the third floor of Fraunce's Tavern. Felix lighted the lamp, and we sat down and looked at each other. I was in no very good humour, and I was willing to say that I was not.
" What do you mean, Felix/' I asked, " by making me fight that little fellow with the big English-Dutch name? Why, I can't fight such a man! "
" You can and you shall," said Courtenay.
" But," I protested, " I was sent up here on important business by the Government, and I have no right to fight. I wouldn't mind it so much if he were a man of near my own size, but I couldn't kill a doll like that; it would be a disgrace, and it would be a still greater disgrace to be killed by him."
Both Mercer and Courtenay laughed.
" But you will have to fight, Phil," said Courtenay; "if you don't those fellows will post you all over town as a coward, and you can't stand that, however much you may be opposed to duelling. It would be a life long disgrace to you at home. You are in this mud dle, and you will have to fight your way out of it, liter- ally."
I recognised the truth of what he said.
" Sit there," he continued, " and Tom and I will talk this over. Remember that you are completely in our hands, and will have nothing to do until you face your antagonist and the word is given to you to fight."
They withdrew into a corner and began to talk in low tones, while I sat in my chair and stared glumly through the window at the darkness. I was both angry and ashamed at being drawn into such an affair, and my shame was all the greater because I believed that it was partly my own fault. I should have treated the lit tle dandy with contempt, ignoring all his sneers. Evi-
WE SEE A PLAY. 137
dently he was not a coward, whatever his other faults might be.
Courtenay and Mercer annouced that the conference was over, and we went to bed. Wearied by the events of the day, I slept soon and soundly, despite the prospects for the morrow.
10
CHAPTEE XII.
AT THE DUELLING GROUND.
WE awoke early, and Courtenay went out to the shops to buy some things which he said he needed. He returned presently with two or three bundles, but I did not ask him about them, having the business with Van Steenkerk on my mind. Then, at Courtenay's sugges tion, we ate a good solid breakfast.
" A general always likes to feed his soldiers well be fore going into battle," said Courtenay, " and Mercer and I will do that much for you. We can't afford to let this wisp of a fop beat you."
Then we went out for a short stroll through the town before going over to the meeting place, Courtenay carry ing a long black bag under his arm. But with such a serious business on our hands we soon tired of sightseeing, and, taking the ferry, crossed over to Brooklyn, going thence to the designated spot, a quiet open place near the sea and beyond the Narrows. We found no one there to meet us, and Courtenay, looking at his watch, informed us that we were at least three quarters of an hour ahead of time. At his suggestion we walked on a bit.
Passing through some trees, we saw two large ships anchored near the shore. They were war ships, for the muzzles of guns in tiers looked at us. Over both floated the British flag. A small schooner, a trading vessel v/hich flew the American colors, was anchored between them, and a boat containing men in the British uniform was passing from her to the smaller of the two war ships. 138
AT THE DUELLING GROUND. 139
" What ships are those? " asked Mercer of a farmer who was leaning against a tree looking at the frigates.
"Don't you know?" he replied. "I thought every body knew those two ships."
" We are strangers here," said Mercer.
" The ship farthest out," said the farmer, " is the British fifty-gun frigate Leander, and the other is the British thirty-eight-gun frigate Guerriere. They are here to find out where all American vessels are going, or from what place they come, and also they search them to take out of them any sailors who may be of British birth, and at the same time any American sailors that they want. I've seen them with as many as half a dozen of our ships at once halted under their guns to be searched. See, they've been going through that schooner now, and I guess they've taken a man out of her, for there's one in the boat that has no uniform on."
They ascended the deck of the Guerriere, and we could see plainly that the man who wore no uniform was a prisoner, probably an American, for the New England men were fine sailors, better than the English, and the British captains took them wherever they could.
We had been hearing for years of these things, but we never thought we should witness such an immeasur able disgrace. History tells us that there were thousands of such instances, and here were the frigates on watch at the entrance to our most important port, as they had been for months and years, searching our ships and car rying off our men with perfect impunity, almost in sight of the city of New York, and that too with all the cir cumstances of arrogance and insult. Can you wonder that so many of us hated the English then?
I noticed the Guerriere carefully. Of all the English ships on our coast this had won the most evil fame, and was the best hated. She was the most active in over hauling our vessels and in kidnapping our sailors, and it was her captain who would enter the name of his ship as
140 A HERALD OF THE WEST.
a kind of defiance upon the log books of the vessels which she had searched; and it was the same Guer- riere that caused her name to be printed in immense letters extending the full length of her fore-topsail, that the American captains might see it from afar and tremble.
So it was no wonder that I watched with interest a ship which not only delighted to inflict outrage upon Americans, but to insult them also. She was a fine frig ate, that the English had taken from the French and fitted up in perfect style. Her prow, of white and gold, was turned slightly toward us, and her carved figurehead rose and fell with the gentle lap of the water.
" And that's the Gue
rriere ? " I said to the farmer.
" That's the Guerriere/' he replied, " and her men have boasted a thousand times in that city over there that they can sink any American ship that floats."
I will confess that I was afraid the boast was true. You must understand the reputation that the English navy then held throughout the world. In all the naval wars and innumerable sea combats with France, Spain, Denmark, and Holland, since the middle of the preceding century, she had been uniformly victorious. In scores of sea fights with these antagonists, ship for ship, she had lost but five or six frigates, and she had captured enough from them or sunk enough of theirs to make a huge navy. She had destroyed the fleet of Napoleon in Aboukir Bay, and again had crushed the combined fleets of France and Spain at Trafalgar an event that was still fresh in the memory of us all. A British thirty- eight-gun frigate was always good enough for a French fifty, and never hesitated to attack a Spaniard of twice her size, and would whip her too. All of us remembered Nelson's reply to the Spanish admiral who, captured by him, asked him to say in his report that he had fought well. " Yes," replied the great English sea fighter, " you fought very well for a Spaniard." Now the English
AT THE DUELLING GROUND.
swept the sea with a thousand ships of war, and were mistress of it everywhere. They felt their victories and their pride too, and never hesitated to show it. Only the officers and sailors of our own little navy, twenty ships all told, the biggest a forty-four, maintained that they could meet the British and beat them too, ship for ship, gun for gun, and man for man. But we landsmen, Americans even, did not believe them. Such was then the glory of the British navy, and th e fear that it in spired, allied as courage and superior skill seemed to be with overwhelming members.
The kidnapped sailor was taken upon the deck of the Guerriere, and what became of him I know not. The little schooner turned her sails to the wind, and, her prow cutting the blue water, passed out to sea. It was a bright spring morning in a time of peace, official peace, and his Majesty's Government of Great Britain was continually extending its good wishes to the United States of Amer ica, and trusting that the republic would not yield to the evil influence of the despot and tyrant, Bonaparte; mean while a British fleet kept incessant watch at the entrance of every American port, and exercised all the power and arrogance of an overwhelming victor in war with its Eu ropean neighbours.
The two ships swung placidly in the water. Their spars and masts, tapering and symmetrical in their out lines, formed a black tracery against the sky. The bright uniforms of British officers could be seen upon the decks, and we were near enough to hear now and then a word of command from the officers.
"It's the money lovers of these Eastern cities who make us stand this," said Mercer. "I'd fight first if every city we had should be burned to the ground."
" Come away," said Courtenay, " I don't want to see it any longer.
We walked back toward the spot at which we were to meet Mr. Van Steenkerk and his companions, and saw
142 A HEEALD OF THE WEST.
them approaching, all dressed in the extreme fashion of the day and looking fresh and natty.
" Good morning/' said Mr. Van Steenkerk very po litely. " Have you been taking a view of the sea? "
" We have been watching your beloved British, who are engaged in the lawful and peaceful occupation of blockading this port," said Courtenay.
Van Steenkerk did not reply; I fancy that even he could not defend the scene that we had witnessed. I no ticed that Knowlton also carried a black bag under his arm, though it was smaller than Courtenay's.
" Well, gentlemen, we are assembled for serious busi ness," said Knowlton.
" Certainly," said Courtenay, " and since we are here in this quiet spot, I propose that we not only settle the preliminaries, but have the duel also this morn- ing."
" That suits us exactly," said Knowlton. " There is no reason whatever for delay."
"Are you agreed, Mr. Ten Broeck?" asked Cour tenay.
" Yes."
"And you, Mr. Van Steenkerk?" asked Knowlton.
" Yes."
I retracted some of my bad opinion of the little man. He certainly seemed to J)e no coward.
" Then there is nothing to do," said Courtenay, " but to produce the weapons and fight. Of course, we being the challenged have the choice of weapons."
"Of course, of course," said Knowlton; "but think ing that we might settle the whole affair while we were here, and that you would not be provided, I brought the weapons along with me, and very good ones they are too."
He opened his black bag and produced two extremely handsome small swords, exactly alike.
" Not at all," said Courtenay; " we do not choose
AT THE DUELLING GROUND. 143
swords, since our man has never used one. We choose better weapons; we choose these."
He opened his own black bag and took out two heavy, long-barrelled rifles, such as we use in the West for bear or buffalo shooting and Indian fighting.
" Why, what do you mean by those ? " exclaimed Knowlton.
" I mean that your Mr. Van Steenkerk and our Mr. Ten Broeck are to fight with these at ten paces," replied Courtenay, as if surprised.
" But one of our principals or both will get killed," protested Knowlton.
" We have an idea in the West and South that when two men fight a duel it is because they want to kill each other, therefore we give them a chance to do it," replied Courtenay.
Knowlton looked irresolute. Van Steenkerk had turned slightly pale, and was looking at the rifles, which were lying side by side on the grass. They were certain ly weapons of a formidable appearance, heavy of stock, with a long, slender blue barrel, from which a half -ounce ball went unerringly to the chosen mark.
" At ten paces," said Knowlton in a hesitating tone. " Why, we might as well begin digging the graves for both men. It's murder."
"You don't like ten paces?" said Courtenay.
" No."
" Then make it five."
Knowlton whispered for a moment with one of his comrades.
" Such conditions are monstrous, barbaric," he said. " You can not insist upon them."
" But we do," replied Courtenay.
The report of a musket shot came from the sea, its sound doubled in the clear, calm morning.
" Is some one fighting before us? " exclaimed Mercer.
" No, that came from the boats," said Knowlton.
144 A HERALD OF THE WEST.
It was but a step through the trees, and all of us took it, eager to see the cause of the shot.
" Look," said Courtenay, who was first. " That shot came from the Guerriere."
A marine standing on the deck of the Guerriere was holding a gun in his hand, and looking intently at the surface of the water. A wisp of smoke rising from the muzzle of his musket floated upward and lost itself in the spars and riggings of the ship.
" What is that on the water? " asked Van Steenkerk.
" A man's head," replied Courtenay.
A man was swimming from the ship toward the shore, all but his head submerged. A bloody streak across the side of the head showed where the musket ball had passed. Even at the distance the face expressed agony, wildness, hope.
" A deserter! " exclaimed Mercer.
A second marine appeared on the deck of the Guer riere, and raising his musket fired at the swimming head. The bullet struck the surface of the sea within six inches of the head, dashing water over it, and then skip ping like a pebble reached the land and battered itself against a rock not twenty feet from us. The man swam on. I felt a curious sickening sensation. I had never before seen a human head used as a target for bullets.
" Pretty poor marksmanship," said Courtenay, " and it's none of my business, but I hope the poor devil will escape."
Several more shots were fired from the Guerriere at the swimmer, but none touched him! Once he turned his head slightly to look back, and then seemed to swim with increased effort. I could see hi
s face distinctly, and despair showed there. There was foam on his lips.
" That man must have good reason for seeking to es cape," I said.
A boat was swung from the side of the Guerriere, and
AT THE DUELLING GROUND. 145
oarsmen and marines leaped into it. A young officer in bright uniform took command. Under the strong arms of the rowers, the boat sped over the water toward the weakening swimmer.
The fugitive was splashing water, as his strokes grew wilder. I felt the fear of death for him, but the men in the boat did not fire, as they seemed to be sure now of taking the swimmer alive.
" I never saw that man before," said Courtenay, " but I'd be willing to help him escape if I could."
The fugitive reached shallow water and ran ashore. Not far away stretched the woods, tempting shelter to a hunted man. But he did not go there. Instead, he ran to us.
" Save me, friends; for the love of God, save me from that ship! " he cried.
He was a young man of good natural frame, but wasted. His clothes seemed to hang upon bones only. I had never before heard a man beg for mercy, and the thrill was painful.
" We can do nothing for a British deserter," I said, " but run for the woods, and maybe you can escape."
" I can go no farther," he said; " my strength is gone. I am not an Englishman, but an American like you. Help me! Will you let me be taken back to that ship and the torture of the cat?"
His face was full of appeal.
" He speaks the truth," cried Courtenay; " this man is no Englishman, but an American one of us. Listen how he drops his r's and softens his vowels. No Eng lishman ever spoke with that accent. It belongs to us Southerners. What are you, man? "
"A Mary lander," replied the seaman. "I was im pressed from the Sally Jones more than seven years ago."
Altsheler, Joseph - [Novel 05] Page 14
