



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 1896. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

VOL. XVII.--NO. 855. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration]




A BOY OF 1775.

BY MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL.


Can you not see the boy of 1775 now--his sturdy legs encased in stout
black stockings, german-silver buckles to his knee-breeches, his hair
plaited and tied with a smart black ribbon, and all this magnificence
topped by three real silver buttons with which his hat is rakishly
cocked? But the boy himself is better worth looking at than all his
finery--so thought Captain Moore, of his Majesty's ship _Margaretta_,
lying at anchor in the harbor of Machias. Jack Leverett was the boy's
name--a handsome stripling of sixteen, with a quiet manner but a
fearless eye.

The two were sitting opposite each other at the cabin table, and through
the open port they could see the village and the harbor, bathed in the
bright white light of a day in May. The Captain was conscious that this
young guest was decidedly in a hurry to leave. A whole hour had they sat
at the dinner table, Captain Moore, with the utmost art, trying to find
out Jack's errand to Machias--for those were the stirring days when
every American had to take his stand for or against King George--and
Captain Moore particularly desired to know how Squire Leverett, Jack's
father, stood toward the King. But Jack, with native mother-wit, had
managed to baffle the Captain. He had readily admitted that he was the
bearer of a letter from his father to Jerry O'Brien, master of Squire
Leverett's sloop _Priscilla_, in regard to heaving down the sloop. But
the Captain, with a seaman's eye, had noted that the _Priscilla_ was in
perfect order and did not need to be hove down, and he more than
suspected that Jack was the bearer of other and more important news.
Through the cabin windows they could see the sloop, a beautiful craft,
being warped into her dock, while across the blue water was wafted
sweetly the voices of the men, led by the shanty man,[1] singing the old
shanty song:

  "Haul the bowline, our jolly ship's a-rolling,
    Haul the bowline, the bowline _haul_!
  Haul the bowline, our jolly mate's a-growling,
    Haul the bowline, the bowline _haul_!"

[1] "Shanty man"--from "Chantez"--a man who could lead the singing while
the men worked. A good shanty man was considered to be a valuable
acquisition to a vessel.

As soon as Jack decently could, he started to rise from the table.
Captain Moore had observed that the glass of wine at Jack's plate
remained untasted, and it suggested a means of finding out whether the
Leveretts meant to go with the King or not.

"Do not go," he said, "until you have joined me in drinking the health
of his Majesty King George."

Jack had no notion whatever of drinking the King's health, but he was at
his wits' end how to avoid it. Just then, though, the Captain turned to
speak to his orderly, and Jack took the opportunity of gulping down his
wine with more haste than elegance. Captain Moore, seeing it, was
surprised and disgusted at the boy's apparent greediness for wine, but
raising his glass, said, "To the King."

"Excuse me, sir," answered Jack, coolly, "but my father never allows me
to drink but one glass of wine, and that I have already had."

"Then I will drink the toast alone," said Captain Moore, with a stern
look at the boy. "Here is to his Majesty King George. Health and long
life to him! God save the King!"

As Captain Moore uttered this sentiment Jack rose and promptly put on
his hat. The Captain was quite sure that the boy's action, like his
gulping down the wine, meant a distaste for the King, and not a want of
breeding. But he thought it best not to notice the incident, and said,
civilly, to his young guest:

"Present my compliments to your honored father, and tell him that his
Majesty's officers have the kindest feelings toward these misguided
people; and while if attacked we will certainly defend ourselves, we
have strict orders to avoid a conflict if possible, and not to fire
until fired upon."

"I will remember your message, sir," was Jack's answer; and the Captain,
having no further excuse for detaining his young guest, allowed him to
depart.

He was soon alongside of the _Priscilla_, and there, standing at the
gangway, was the sloop's master, Jerry O'Brien. Jerry, by an accident of
fate, had inherited an Irish name, but he was as arrant a Yankee as ever
stepped. He was a handsome fellow withal, and in his natty blue suit
much more resembled the Captain of an armed cruiser than the master of a
smart merchant vessel. The _Priscilla_, too, was a wonderful contrast to
the slovenly merchantmen around her. She was as clean as hands could
make her, and her beautiful lines were brought out by the shining coat
of black paint upon her hull. Her men were smart and seamanlike. Jerry
O'Brien was the most exacting ship-master on that coast, but he never
had any trouble in shipping men, for, while making them do their work
with the quickness and steadiness of man-o'-war's men, he used neither
blows nor curses. A natural leader of men, he made himself respected
first, and after that it is always easy to command obedience.

As soon as Jack Leverett came over the side Jerry took him to the cabin.
Jack produced a letter, and by the heat from a ship's lantern some
writing in lemon juice was deciphered. It contained a full account of
the affairs at Lexington and Concord, of which only vague rumors had
reached Machias. At every sentence descriptive of American valor Jerry
would give a half-suppressed whoop, and at the end he could not forbear
letting out a huzza that made the little cabin ring.

"Suppose," said Jack, who had hard work to keep from hurrahing wildly,
"instead of making a noise, we should invent a scheme to capture the
_Margaretta_. If the farmers around Boston could, with hay-forks and
blunderbusses, beat off the British regulars, the sailors and fishermen
about here ought to be able to get alongside the _Margaretta_ and take
her."

Jerry's mouth was large, and it came open like a rat-trap at this bold
proposition. After a pause he spoke. "Boy," said he, "the enterprise
shall be tried; and if we succeed, you shall be prize-master of the
_Margaretta_."

Jack's heart leaped at these words. He was an admirable sailor, like
most of the hardy youngsters on the coast, and had more than once taken
the _Priscilla_ on short trips. But his mother and the Squire meant him
to be something else than a merchant Captain, and kept him under a tutor
when he would much rather have been sailing blue water. For hours Jack
and Jerry sat in the cabin talking over their scheme. Jerry knew that
the people of Machias were heart and soul with the cause of freedom, and
could be depended upon in any desperate adventure. The _Margaretta_
carried four brass guns and a number of swivels; but, as Jerry shrewdly
said, if once the _Priscilla_ could grapple with her, it would be a
battle of men and musketry, not of guns. At nightfall Jack and Jerry
went ashore. A great vivid moon hung in the sky, and they could see the
_Margaretta_ almost as well as in daylight. She was a handsome vessel,
schooner rigged, and in a state of preparation that showed Captain Moore
did not mean to be caught napping. All her boats were hoisted in, her
anchors had springs on them, and her sails were merely clewed up,
instead of being furled.

"There you are, my beauty," said Jerry. "It's a shame, so it is, that
King George's ensign should fly from your peak. You deserve an American
flag, and we'll try and give it you."

All that night they spent going from house to house of the men who had
the patriotism to enlist with them, and by daylight they had the promise
of twenty-five resolute men who, at a signal of three cheers given from
the _Priscilla_, would at once board her and put themselves under Jerry
O'Brien's command.

All this commotion on shore had not escaped Captain Moore's lookouts
during the night, and although the Captain would much have preferred
staying and fighting it out, his orders compelled him to cut and run if
signs of an outbreak were visible. The British government then earnestly
wished to conciliate the colonists, and by no means to come to blows.

The next morning was Sunday, and as beautifully clear and bright as the
day before. In order to avoid the appearance of fear, Captain Moore
determined, with his officers, to go to church as usual. As the
Captain's gig landed the officers, Jerry O'Brien and Jack Leverett, with
the six men who composed the _Priscilla_'s crew, were all on deck,
keeping a sharp eye on the _Margaretta_ and her boat.

"What say you, men," suddenly asked Jerry, "to bagging those officers in
church?"

"We say yes," answered every man at once. In a few minutes, with Jerry
and Jack in the lead, and all well armed, they took the road toward the
church. As they neared it they heard the faint sweet echo of a hymn that
floated out on the spring air--the only sound that broke the heavenly
stillness.

Jerry silently posted his men at the entrance, and then opening the door
softly, raised his horse-pistol and levelled it straight at Captain
Moore, who sat in the last pew.

The British Captain happened to turn his head at that instant. The
congregation was too absorbed in the singing to notice what was going
on. Jerry nodded at the Captain, as much as to say, "You are my
prisoner." The Captain coolly shook his head, as if to answer, "Not
quite, my fine fellow," and the next moment he made a sudden dash for
the open window, followed by all of his officers, and before Jerry could
realize that the birds had flown, they had run half-way to the shore. In
vain Jerry and Jack and their followers pursued. The officers had too
long a lead, and by the time the Americans reached the shore the
Captain's gig was being pulled rapidly to the ship. As soon as the boat
reached it the anchors were picked up, every sail that would draw was
shaken out, and the cruiser made for the offing. As soon as she was well
under way she sent a shot of defiance screaming over the town, and was
answered by three thundering American cheers from the _Priscilla_. As if
by magic the sloop's deck was alive with armed men, and with a quickness
equal to the cruiser's, her mainsail was up, and she was winging her way
in pursuit of her enemy.

Well had the _Priscilla_ been called the fastest sloop in all that
region. The wind was dead ahead, and both vessels had to get out of the
river on "a long leg and a short one." The _Margaretta_ was handled in a
seamanlike manner, but on every tack the _Priscilla_ gained, and showed
that she was a better sailer both on and off the wind. In an hour they
were within hailing distance, and the men on the _Margaretta_ were
called to quarters by the tap of the drum. Her guns were run out, their
tompions withdrawn, and the cruiser showed herself to be an ugly
customer to tackle. But this did not intimidate the Americans, who were
closing on her fast.

A hail came from the _Margaretta_, "What are you following us for?"

"To learn how to tack ship!" responded Jerry O'Brien, who had taken the
wheel himself. This reply caused a roar of laughter from the Americans,
as the _Priscilla_ could come about in half the time of the
_Margaretta_.

"Keep off or I'll fire!" was the next hail.

"Fire away, gentlemen," bawled Jerry, "and light your matches with your
orders not to fire first!"

At this the gallant British tars groaned loudly, and Captain Moore,
drawing his sword and shaking it at the rapidly advancing sloop,
shouted:

"Orders or no orders, I will fire one round if I lose my commission for
it. Blow your matches, boys!"

The guns were already manned, and at the word there was a flash of
light, a puff of smoke, and a round shot came hissing and shrieking
across the water and struck the _Priscilla_'s mainmast fairly in the
middle, splintering it. The sloop staggered under the blow, and in a
minute or two the mast went by the board with a crash.

A great cheer broke from the _Margaretta_'s men at that.

"Never mind," cried Jerry. "This is not the first mast that was ever
carried away, and we have spare spars and carpenters too. Wait for us in
Holmes Bay, and we will fight it out yard-arm to yard-arm before
sundown."

The _Margaretta_, with her men cheering and jeering, sailed away toward
the open sea. The _Priscilla_ being the best-found sloop in New England,
in a little while the stump of the mast was cleared away, a lighter
spar, but still good enough, was fitted, and she made sail on it.

As she neared the ocean the wind freshened every moment, and although
the sun shone brilliantly, a heavy sea was kicked up. Soon they sighted
the _Margaretta_, with her topsail backed, and gallantly waiting for her
enemy.

In all this time Jack Leverett showed a steadiness and coolness beyond
his years. Once Jerry O'Brien said to him,

"Youngster, if you flinch, depend upon it, your father shall know it."

"All right," answered Jack; "and if I don't flinch I want my mother to
know it."

The two vessels now neared each other on opposite tacks. Captain Moore
manoeuvred to get into a raking position before delivering his fire,
but the _Priscilla_, by skilful yawing and by the roughness of the sea,
proved to be as difficult to hit as if she had been a cork bobbing up
and down. In vain they played their two starboard guns and all their
swivels on her; their shot rarely struck, and when it struck, did small
damage.

Not so with the Americans. Without a single cannon, they poured forth a
musketry fire at close quarters that did fearful work and made hot the
_Margaretta_'s decks. The brave British sailors stood manfully to their
guns, but the Americans were gradually edging up, and their fire grew
more deadly every moment. The _Margaretta_ tried to sheer off, but the
_Priscilla_, closing up, got her jibboom entangled in her adversary's
main rigging, and a dozen Americans sprang forward to make the two ships
fast.

As the vessels came grinding together Jerry O'Brien, leaping on the
taffrail, shouted, "I will be the first man to board--and follow me!"

But Jerry was mistaken. He was suddenly seized by the coat tails, jerked
backwards, and fell sprawling upon the deck, and the next instant Jack
Leverett sprang over him, and was first upon the _Margaretta_'s deck.

"Drat the boy!" was Jerry's involuntary exclamation as he scrambled to
his feet.

The Americans poured over the side, and met with a warm reception.
Captain Moore, surrounded by his officers, retreated to the fo'c's'le,
fighting every step of the way. At last Jerry O'Brien came face to face
with him. The Captain defended himself with his sword, but it was
knocked out of his hand by Jerry with a pistol butt. They clinched and
fell to the deck fighting. The struggle was sharp but short, and in
fifteen minutes from the time the Americans had lashed the ships
together the Captain was overpowered, nearly every officer had been cut
down, and the cruiser was in the hands of the Americans. There had been
much cheering on the _Priscilla_ that day, but when the British ensign
was hauled down, and Jerry, in default of a national flag, hoisted his
own jacket at the