CHAPTER XI.

THE ENEMY OUTWITTED.

A prize crew was immediately thrown on board the Raleigh, but with the contempt for the American navy which the British naturally felt at the time, it was thought enough to send a young lieutenant, a midshipman, and twenty men to take charge of the American ship. The crew were all on deck, about to be mustered by their captors, when Jack Bell, finding Dicky Stubbs, pale and awed, standing next him, whispered very softly:—

“Has you seen Mr. Dobell anywheres about?”

“No,” answered Dicky just as softly, “he ain’t able to move hardly yet.”

“You slip below, then,” Jack continued hurriedly but impressively, “and tell him there ain’t but twenty men and two officers aboard—and they thinks they has got all the officers—and if he kin manage to git into the men’s quarters and git a suit of sailor’s clo’es on him, they won’t never suspect we has a officer among us; but if we has an officer, we can git the ship back before they knows it. Now, can you remember that, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Dicky—and in the confusion he easily managed to get below. With his heart in his mouth he ran to Mr. Dobell’s room. The lieutenant, much disabled by rheumatism, had yet managed to crawl as far as his door. He surmised only too well the state of affairs above, and when Dicky in an agitated whisper gave Jack Bell’s message, Dobell saw at once what was meant. Only twenty men and two young officers! He balanced rapidly in his own mind the chances he took, not forgetting the parole that he might expect as an officer, and the imprisonment he might suffer if he assumed the character of an ordinary seaman—but he saw the opportunity opening before him, and he also knew how level-headed and experienced Jack Bell was in spite of his humble position and want of school education. Nor did Mr. Dobell forget that although in the excitement of the moment he might have been overlooked for a little while, that very soon he would be inquired after and searched for—but a plan instantly suggested itself to him on that point. Picking up his cap he hobbled, with Dicky’s assistance, down to the men’s quarters. Nearly all the lights had been put out by the shock of the Ajax’s broadside, but by Mr. Dobell’s instructions Dicky put out every one in their wake that remained. He then told the boy as they passed the carpenters’ quarters to look around for a grindstone that he could lift. Dicky got hold of one that he could lift very handily, as he was a strong boy.

“Now,” said Mr. Dobell hurriedly, “get some sailor togs on me; then put my officer’s clothes up in a bundle and hide them until I can get a chance to throw them overboard; and next throw the grindstone overboard, with my cap after it, and rush up shouting, ‘Man overboard!’ and they will think it is I—but tell Bell privately that I am here.”

By that time they were in the sickbay, where there were two or three men ill, and in a minute or two Mr. Dobell was in a hammock, looking as ill as any of them. Dicky ran back and by almost superhuman efforts managed to get the heavy grindstone overboard and threw Mr. Dobell’s cap after it. A loud splash was heard, and Dicky rushed up on deck shouting, “Man overboard!”

This added to the commotion prevailing on deck. The boarding boat was at the gangway, and the young midshipman jumping in, the boat’s crew pulled toward the bow of the boat, where the splash had been heard. They saw an officer’s cap floating near by and it was picked up, and for half an hour they pulled back and forth over the place where the grindstone had gone down, upon the chance of saving the supposed unfortunate officer.

On deck Jack Bell, by some occult means, had passed the word around among the Americans that something was up and they must be on their guard. When the boat returned with the officer’s cap, it was at once identified as Mr. Dobell’s by the initials in it, and on looking into his room it was found empty. The British lieutenant thought he had conclusive proof that the first lieutenant had either fallen or jumped overboard; and Jack Bell propounded a plausible theory that Mr. Dobell, being unable to get on deck, had managed to lean out of the cabin window so far, in his effort to see what was happening above, that he lost his balance and fell overboard. “And he were a good officer, were Mr. Dobell,” said Jack with much feeling; “and he must ha’ felt awful bad when he knowed he couldn’t lift his hand to help the poor Raleigh.”

Jack’s theory was shared by the British officers, and when they found two or three sailors in the sickbay it did not occur to them that the one who appeared the most ill was the first lieutenant of the ship.

In a little while the ship was completely under the control of her captors and nearly a hundred American prisoners were sent below the hatches, while the damages to the ship were repaired as far as possible. This was not finished until morning, when the Ajax and her prize parted company, the Raleigh being directed to report at Philadelphia, which had then fallen in the power of the British.

The melancholy news of Mr. Dobell’s supposed loss had been conveyed to his old shipmates on the Ajax, and added to the distress they suffered. The American prisoners on the Raleigh, although closely guarded, were perfectly free to communicate with each other. A plan was formed to seize the ship as soon as Mr. Dobell was able to move about, which would be shortly, as he was mending fast. A sentry, fully armed, always stood at the hatchway, but if once he could be disarmed or thrown off his guard, the Americans rushing up could get possession of the deck, and the rest would be easy. Mr. Dobell had the management of the whole scheme, and it was desired to carry it into effect before they reached Northern waters which swarmed with British cruisers. Jack Bell was Mr. Dobell’s righthand man; and after two or three days, when the lieutenant was able to get about his cramped quarters fairly well, Jack took Dicky aside and whispered to him: “When the officer comes down to inspect to-morrow morning, do you be singing the prettiest song you have, and fiddling, too, and maybe he’ll notice you; and then I’ll tell you what to do.”

Next morning, therefore, when the officer came below, Dicky was singing away like a thrush “When the Wind at Night Whistles Over the Deep,” and playing his accompaniment on the violin. He stopped, as if caught by the officer; but apparently the young British lieutenant had no ear for music and passed on without noticing him. The British sailors, though, had heard him, and as music was highly prized on board ship to break the monotony, Dicky was soon asked for, to sing and play to the men in the fok’sle during their leisure hours. Thus, he was often allowed on deck for an hour at a time, and never failed to use his eyes very sharply and to carry down the news to Mr. Dobell, whose character as an officer was not in the least suspected by his captors. They had experienced contrary winds, and although ten days had passed since the Raleigh’s capture, they had not yet passed the capes of North Carolina.

On a certain day though, when Mr. Dobell was able to walk about with comfort, Dicky had got his instructions, and with a beating heart but an undaunted courage he went above, when he was called for. It was Sunday, and the few sailors that could be spared were sitting around the fok’sle smoking and spinning yarns. Dinner had been served to them and directly afterward the hatches would be opened to send the prisoners’ dinner down to them. Dicky was permitted to go as far as the main hatchway. It had just been opened and two cooks descended, followed by two sailors armed with pistols and cutlasses. As they disappeared below a slight noise, as of scuffling bare feet, was heard. The sentry, with his piece at his shoulder, advanced, and at the same moment Dicky, rushing at him from behind, pulled his legs from under him and he fell sprawling down the hatchway. In another minute the Americans came rushing up on deck headed by Mr. Dobell who, although unable to take any active part, yet commanded with skill and coolness. They had the pistols and cutlasses of the two sailors they had disarmed below, and they had seized the musket and pistols of the sentry. In another moment the sailors sitting around the fok’sle were overpowered before they had a chance to make any resistance, and Mr. Dobell, directing pistols to be leveled at the heads of the lookouts, they came down with alacrity. All this was done with surprisingly little noise, as the Americans had been ordered to act as quietly as possible and had left their shoes below.

Fifteen out of the twenty men had been captured, and it was now determined to bag the two officers. Mr. Dobell, who had become wonderfully active under the influence of excitement and success, quickly and noiselessly descended the cabin hatchway. The cabin door was open, and the lieutenant, with his back to it, sat at the table calmly enjoying his dinner; while the young midshipman, leaning on the transom, craned his neck far out of a porthole to see what caused the faint but strange noises on deck.

Mr. Dobell signaled to two brawny young Americans who walked abreast with him, and the next instant a stout arm encircled the lieutenant’s head, across his eyes, and a pair of equally stout arms pinioned him behind. The lieutenant uttered a loud yell, but the midshipman with his head out of the port did not hear it. He felt, though, someone dragging him backward, and the next thing he knew he was gracefully seated on the floor and the cabin was full of Americans. By that time the five remaining British sailors had been overpowered and the ship was in the hands of the Americans.

The lieutenant struggled violently for an instant, when Mr. Dobell spoke:—

“Remove your arm from his eyes.”

The sailor who had covered the officer’s eyes took his arm away. The young lieutenant gave one quick glance around and became perfectly quiet.

“Sir,” said Mr. Dobell, “this ship is in possession of the Americans, and to show you that it is, you shall be freed from personal restraint.”

The sailor who held him let go, and the lieutenant rose and looked about him.

“At all events,” he said coolly, “there is no commissioned officer among you, and it is not likely that any of you foremast people can navigate a ship.”

“I beg your pardon,” answered Mr. Dobell politely, “but I am Lieutenant Dobell of the Continental navy, and I feel altogether capable of taking this ship anywhere I wish. It was not I, but a grindstone, that fell overboard the night of the capture. I felt that with an officer to direct them our men could get the ship back, and for that reason I chose to spend my time below the hatches. Now, however, I promise myself the pleasure of your company in the cabin.”

The lieutenant, not to be outdone in politeness, answered with admirable self-possession: “When you have made your dispositions on the ship I should be pleased to have your company at dinner, for I conceive myself the host at this one meal at least.”

“Thank you,” responded Mr. Dobell. “I will not keep you longer than I can possibly help, for I acknowledge that the fare and table service under the hatches has not been altogether to my liking.”

Mr. Dobell then went on deck, and directing the prisoners to be mustered, they were marched below and occupied the late quarters of the Americans. No bad blood was shown on either side, but a philosophic acceptance of a change of conditions. Mr. Dobell had his plans so well made and easily carried out that within half an hour he rejoined the lieutenant in the cabin and ate the first good meal he had enjoyed for ten days; while the Raleigh, once more an American ship, bounded along under a freshening breeze to the music of three thundering cheers, given by the Americans as soon as they had leisure to celebrate their adventure.

Dicky Stubbs was the happiest little soul imaginable. He had been the only one among all the Americans allowed on deck, and the news he had carried below, and his achievements in pulling the sentry’s legs from under him, made Dicky a considerable hero in his own eyes. But Mr. Dobell, after seeing the boy every day in the time of their imprisonment, had concluded that he was a remarkably brave, sensible, and reliable boy, and had determined to interest himself in Dicky’s future welfare.

Mr. Dobell decided to make for Newport. They had favoring breezes all the way and passed many British cruisers, to all of which the Raleigh showed British colors and signaled that she had been taken from the Americans. But whenever a disposition was shown to speak her, she always made off with a swiftness that caused many an angry captain to promise himself the pleasure of reporting her to the admiral as wanting in the first principle of that courtesy which should prevail upon the seas.

The melancholy news that the Raleigh had been captured by the Ajax was brought to Newport one day by a trader from New York; and there was no sadder heart in Newport than that of the Widow Stubbs. She spent no time, however, in useless lamenting, for she had given her boy to her country cheerfully and knew what the sacrifice meant. And she consoled herself by thinking that it was after all but a temporal misfortune, not comparable to what might have been had Dicky been caught lying, stealing, or playing the rascal in any way. But she could not refrain from crying a little when, about sunset on the day the bad news came, she looked out of the window of her little house and thought that was the time that Dicky had been wont to come home jingling his pennies in his pockets with a vast air of importance before throwing them into her lap, and then demanding his supper as if he owned the earth. But—strange sight!—there lay a handsome little frigate at anchor in the harbor that looked astonishingly like the Raleigh; and—oh, happy miracle!—there was Dicky himself rushing up the path, followed by Jack Bell on a dog trot; and then the door burst open and Dicky, grown about a foot taller and broader, jumped into his mother’s arms, and Jack Bell marched in and began sawing her arm up and down. The Widow Stubbs was so amazed, astounded, and delighted that she was quite beside herself; and Dicky poured out a rigmarole, his tongue going like a millwheel, all about knocking the sentry down, and playing the fiddle, and what Mr. Dobell was going to do for him.

“What does he mean, Mr. Bell?” asked the Widow Stubbs helplessly, after having hugged and kissed Dicky twenty times over.

“The brat means, ma’am,” responded Jack as he solemnly cut a large quid of tobacco and placed it in his cheek, “as how he’s did his duty—no more and no less—but, like all brats, he’s makin’ a big hullabaloo over jest a-doin’ of his duty, like ’twas sumpin’ extryordinary. I don’t go for to say as he ain’t a smart chap—but he’s had adwantages, bein’ took young into the navy, where most of the smart men is found, ma’am—and I think he’ll live to be a credit and a comfort to you, ma’am.”

“He will, if he only does his duty just as it lies before him,” said the widow softly, and kissing Dicky’s freckled nose.

“I’ll try to, mammy,” answered Dicky sturdily.

And he kept his promise very faithfully. The day came, when the war was over and America was free, that his mother saw him captain of a fine ship and able to give her a better house to live in than she had ever known in all her life. Jack Bell took possession of the little cottage, where he spent many happy years, and always pointed to the brave, bright, and successful Captain Richard Stubbs as a monument of what “bein’ ketched young and put into the navy” would do for a man.

FOOTNOTES

[1]The sailors’ name for a marine.

[2]Citizen.

[3]The appliance for hanging men at the yardarm.

[4]The songs in this book are not original.

[5]This song is not original, but is taken from an old naval song book, very popular in the last century. The incidents concerning this song and General Prescott’s words on the occasion are historically accurate.

Transcriber’s Notes

--_Two_ illustrations listed in the Table are missing from the book.

--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.

--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.

End of Project Gutenberg's Quarterdeck and Fok'sle, by Molly Elliot Seawell