The Noank's Log Part 32

The Manhattan did not obey at once. He was sighting, sighting, sighting, for almost a minute, and the men at the broadside guns were following his example.

"Fire!" shouted the captain, and even then there was an irritating pause.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIGHT WITH THE ARRAN. "'Fire!' shouted the captain, and even then there was an irritating pause."]

"Ugh!" grunted the red man, at last. "Ole chief wait and see brig bowsprit. Send shot behind it."

The long eighteen spoke out, and was instantly followed by the three sixes on that side of the _Noank_. It was at the very moment when Lieutenant Tracy remarked, inquiringly:--

"What? Don't they mean to answer us? You don't say they'll surrender without firing a shot? That isn't like 'em, now--"

His next utterance was much louder.

"George!" he shouted. "There goes my bowsprit! The jolly-boat's knocked into matchwood! I declare! There's a hole in the mains'l! Is anybody hurt?"

"Not a man, sir!" shouted back Fletcher, cheerfully. "We'll give it to 'em!"

The brig had been already going about, and her other broadside was as well directed as the first. It would have been bad for the _Noank_ but for her heavy timbers and the lightness of Tracy's metal. She was hulled in three places, and there was a ragged split in her foresail.

It did not prevent her going about, however, and her next trio of iron messengers were as well aimed as were the Englishman's.

"They hulled us, sir," reported the _Arran's_ sailing-master. "No great harm. Three men hurt by splinters. The after rigging's cut a bit. We must finish that chap, sir."

"That cursed long gun o' theirs!" growled Tracy, fiercely. "Captain Syme told me, and I hardly believed him. That's what may play the mischief with us. I wish we were at broadsides with her."

That was precisely the advantage which Captain Avery did not intend to give him, right away, and the _Arran_, losing her bowsprit, was not by any means so difficult to keep away from or to outmanoeuvre.

Slowly, carefully, Up-na-tan had again sighted his gun and measured his distance. It was tantalizing to watch him as he doggedly refused to throw away a shot.

"Ugh! Whoo-oop!" he yelled, as his lanyard touched the priming of his gun. "Now see! Ole chief take 'em aft!"

"I wish he'd do as well for one end of her as he did for the other,"

muttered the captain.

"He's done it, sir!" exclaimed Guert, for he had borrowed the captain's telescope.

"That Indian's a gunner!" said Groot, with emphasis. "I never saw one to beat him. I've seen pretty good marksmen, too."

The peculiar accuracy of eye born in or acquired by the old red man was a disastrous gift for the British revenue brig. Almost too far aft did the shot hit her, but in it went, and all her rudder gear was useless in a second of time. She could no longer answer her wheel, and began to lurch about at the mercy of wind and wave.

Fierce indeed were the execrations of her helpless officers and crew.

All their courage and seamanship were of no use, now. Their guns might as well have been made of wood, and their jaunty brig had become as clumsy and unmanageable as a raft. Moreover, the terrible American was speeding nearer, and only a few minutes went by before there came a loud-voiced demand for her surrender to the--

"United States armed cruiser _Noank_, Captain Lyme Avery."

"His Britannic Majesty's brig _Arran_, Lieutenant Tracy. We surrender, of course. You could sink us as we are now. All the luck's yours."

"We'll come alongside," said Avery.

"I wish I had a right to board him when he comes," growled Tracy, as his flag came down. "There'd be some satisfaction in that."

A few minutes later he had changed that opinion, for an unexpected torrent of men poured over his bulwarks from the _Noank_.

"'Pon my soul!" he exclaimed. "What a crew she has! They outnumber us two to one. It's no disgrace at all!"

All the British tars felt relieved in their minds after a good look at their victors. The result of the fight was not to be a discredit to them, they said, and the American sailors hailed them merrily. There had been no killing on either side, and there was no cause for bad temper. The best shots had decided the fight, and all true seamen could accept the consequences.

"Lieutenant Tracy," said Captain Avery, "we don't want your brig.

We'll take out of her all that suits us, and then you can drift around till help gets to you. Or you can patch up and work your way into some port or other."

"I can manage it," said the Englishman, ruefully. "We captured a French smuggler yesterday, and now a deal o' that luck is yours instead of ours. You rebels are holding out wonderfully."

"So is England," laughed Captain Avery. "You won't give up, and we won't. I guess you'll have to, though, one o' these days."

"Never!" said Tracy, st.u.r.dily. "All the colonies'll have to come back under the king, sooner or later."

"You wait and see," said the captain.

The loyal-hearted lieutenant, however, had expressed no more than the almost undoubting faith of the great body of his countrymen. They were simply unable to believe that the Americans could succeed.

Down into the hold of the _Arran_ had dashed the men of the _Noank_.

Tackle had been quickly rigged at the hatches.

One of the commands given had related to a search for powder and shot, and the entire supply of the brig was now coming up, to be transferred to the schooner. It was a timely winning, for her stock had begun to run low.

"It's a good thing for us," said her captain and crew, as they secured it.

Anything and everything in the nature of arms and ammunition, furniture, cutlery, table goods, bales of woollens, and packages of silks taken from the French smuggler, more than a little tanned leather, lots of miscellaneous stuff not yet precisely known as to its character, made up the unexpectedly valuable plunder of the smuggler-capturing brig.

There was no time to transfer her cannon, and these were left behind, spiked. Her spare sails went, however, with a good yawl-boat and some extra light spars. Then the _Noank_ cast off, and her crew gave their crestfallen British acquaintances three rounds of hearty cheers.

"Captain Avery," shouted Tracy, "you're a good fellow, but Fletcher and I hope we may meet you again, some day, with better luck to our guns."

"All right!" responded the captain. "May you command a forty-four and I another. Then the United States'll own one more prime ship that used to be the king's. Hurrah!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

DOWN THE BRITISH CHANNEL.

With the exception, it may be, of the Mediterranean Sea, there is no other water whereupon so much history has been manufactured as on the British Channel.

Away back beyond Caesar's day and ever since, it has been cruised over by all sorts of vessels and fleets. Its first absolute rulers were the Norse-Saxon vikings. After them it has been Danish, Dutch, French, and English.

One of the later Dutch admirals once carried a broom at his masthead in a boastful declaration that he had swept the Channel clean of every opposing force. Not a great while afterward, the British sea-captains fell heirs to the Hollander's broom.

The _Noank_ had not lain long grappled to the disabled _Arran_. There was danger in every hour of delay. The plunder obtained, although valuable, was not excessively bulky, and was rapidly transferred and stowed away.