Sustained honor Part 6

"Aye, aye, sir!" came back the response.

"What boat is that?"

"A boat from his majesty's ship the _Sea-Wing._ We wish to come aboard your vessel."

When the captain asked them their business, they frankly confessed that they were deserters and had been secreted all day on the island watching an opportunity to reach the American brig.

Their story was a probable one, and the captain and his officers believed it. A rope was tossed to them, and in a few moments five stalwart jack tars in the uniform of the British Navy stood on the deck.

One tall, fine-looking seaman, who was every inch a gentleman, and whose conversation was evidence of education and refinement, told their story.

Three of them were Americans, and two were Swedes. They had been seized by the press gang and made slaves on board the frigate.

"It has been many years," said the tall sailor, "since I saw my native land. I am a native of Hartford, Connecticut."

"Why didn't you escape sooner?" the Captain asked.

"Escape, captain, is no easy matter, and is attended with serious consequences. They usually hang one who tries to desert. I am a gunner, by profession, and but for the fact they need my services against the French, I would have been hung long since for trying to desert."

The gunner impressed Captain Parson favorably. He was a man between forty and forty-five years of age. His eyes were deep blue, his hair light. His round, full face was smooth shaven. As he stood on the deck, his brawny arms folded across his ma.s.sive chest, he looked a perfect model of a man and a tower of strength.

Captain Parson led him aside and said:

"You are no common sailor."

"I'm only a gunner now, captain."

"But in the past?"

"I once commanded a ship. I will tell you my story on the morrow. It is a sad one, but, thank G.o.d, there's nothing in it at which I need blush.

For the present, however, let us get along as fast as your ship can make it, for the _Sea-Wing_ is a swift vessel, and if we are not beyond reach of her vision before the dawn of day, we shall be overhauled."

Captain Parson knew that some evil consequences might result from being overhauled by the _Sea-Wing,_ and consequently every st.i.tch of canvas was spread and the brig sped away with a good stiff breeze. It was a long and anxious night; master and crew were all on deck. No one slept.

The coming dawn would tell the story. If the frigate were in sight, then they might expect the very worst; even the ship might be captured and borne away as a prize and the entire crew enslaved.

Dawn came at last. Each anxious heart welcomed and yet dreaded to see the new day. Sailors and officers swept the sea as it grew lighter, and, to their dread, just as the sun rose over the glossy surface of the sea, a snowy speck appeared far off to the westward.

The lookout at the mast-head first called their attention to it, and as it drew nearer and nearer the tall handsome gunner went aloft with a gla.s.s to see if he could recognize it. In a few moments he came back and said:

"It is the frigate, sir."

That she was in full chase, there could not be a doubt. Captain Parson had little hope of escaping; but he put the _Dover_ on her best sailing point and scudded away before the wind with every st.i.tch of canvas they could carry.

"Oh, golly! I hope dey won't mistake--dey won't mistake dis chile for a Britisher!" groaned Job the cook, who was trembling from head to foot, and whose black skin was almost pale.

The five deserters were pale but calm. They seemed to read their fate and bore it like men. A flogging was the very least they could expect; but the chances were that every one would hang. The frigate was the swifter sailor and overhauled them so rapidly, that, in two hours and a half, she was within a mile of the brig.

Suddenly a wreath of white smoke curled up from the forecastle, and a moment later a ball came skipping over the water under their larboard deck, while the boom of a cannon sounded over the sea. As the fine spray clipped from the crested waves by the shot, flew over the deck, Mr.

Brown said:

"Captain, it's no use, she will be near enough to sink us in ten minutes."

"Heave to, Brown. Oh! I wish I had arms and a crew!"

"Captain," interposed the tall, handsome gunner, "I--I know their skill and metal. If you had a gun--a single gun of proper calibre, I could sink her. I am called the best shot in the English navy."

"We have only a six pounder," answered the captain, ruefully, pointing to their only gun. It was but an inferior piece, and when the gunner examined it, he turned to his four anxious companions and said:

"It would be suicide."

Then the five sailors stood near the main gangway with arms folded, heads erect, and resigned like brave men to their fate. The frigate came bearing down upon them like a great mountain, and soon lay alongside.

The captain and a score of marines all armed with muskets, came aboard.

"So ho!" cried the captain, "you have my live runaways snug enough.

Seize them and carry them aboard, lieutenant."

A young officer with ten men now seized the five deserters, handcuffed them and led them to their ship which lay alongside. As they went over the rail, the brutal captain said something about swinging at the yard arm. Turning to Parson, he said:

"Captain, muster your crew and have them pa.s.s before me."

Much as the captain disliked to do so, he was in the power of the brutal Englishman and forced to do his bidding. As the sailors pa.s.sed slowly before him, the Briton eyed each carefully. Suddenly he pointed to a stout young sailor named Tom, and cried:

"Stop sir, you are an Englishman!"

"I am not, capen, ye's mistaken, I was born at Plymouth, Ma.s.sachusetts."

"Don't dispute my word, sir. I know you, seize him!"

Though three of Tom's messmates offered to swear that he was a native of Ma.s.sachusetts, he was seized, ironed and hurried away. Two more were selected, despite the protests of Captain Parson, who was raging like a madman, and hurried aboard the frigate. The fourth man halted in the procession was Job, the colored cook.

"Stop, sir, I want you!" said the English officer.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "DO YOU THINK DAR IS ANY ANGLER SAXUN BLOOD IN DESE VEINS?"]

"Want me, Capen? oh, golly! I ain't a Britisher!" cried Job, gesticulating wildly. "Do I look like I war a Britisher? Do you think dar is any Angler Sacksun blood in dese veins?"

Job howled and appealed in vain. The commander of the _Sea Wing_ declared him to be an English negro, and he was hurried away to try the hard service on board a British war vessel.

Having culled the crew of the _Dover_ to his heart's content, the haughty Briton went aboard his own ship and continued his cruise, leaving Captain Parson expressing his ideas in such language as no parson should use.

CHAPTER V.

FERNANDO'S JOURNEY EAST. HE MEETS WITH QUEER PEOPLE.

From the day Fernando Stevens began to read and learn of the great world beyond the narrow confines of his western home, he was filled with the laudable ambition to know more about it. The solitude of the wilderness may be congenial for meditation; but it is in the moving whirl of humanity that ideas are brightened. Fernando was promised that if he would master the common school studies taught in their log schoolhouse, he should be sent to one of the eastern cities to have his education completed. Albert Stevens, the lad's father, was becoming one of the most prosperous farmers of the west. He had purchased several tracts of land which rapidly increased in value, and his flocks and herds multiplied marvelously. He was in fact regarded as "rich" in those days of simplicity. He had sent several flatboats loaded with grain down the Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans and sold the cargoes at great profit, so that, in addition to his fields, his stock and houses, he had between three and four thousand dollars in money.