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Captain John Crane, 1800 - 1815

<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> ESCAPING FROM A BRITISH FLEET.—DESTRUCTION OF THE MARGUERITE.—CAPTURED BY AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.—PRISONER AT PLYMOUTH AND DARTMOOR. I thought of the escape of the Constitution under similar circumstances, and prepared accordingly. The British ships shortened sail to avoid the peril of capsizing; I kept everything spread, and when the squall struck us we heeled over so that our lee guns were buried. For a moment I thought we would go over on our beam-ends; then the Marguerite stiffened up, and darted ahead like a race-horse, and away we sped through the water. On we dashed between two of the ships that had closed in upon us, and, though the shot flew thick, we were not touched by a single one of them. Before the enemy could gather way to follow us, we were out of reach of harm, and we stayed out of it too. My experience in this affair calls to mind that of the privateer Saratoga, Captain Riker. She carried eighteen guns and a crew of one hundred and forty[267] men. In the autumn of 1812 she captured the ship Quebec, sixteen guns, from Jamaica, with a cargo worth three hundred thousand dollars. She went into the port of La Guayra, Venezuela, but was warned off, as some British ships were cruising in the neighborhood, and the authorities did not want any battle in the harbor. A fog came on, and as she was going out of the bay she captured a British vessel worth twenty thousand dollars. The fog lasted all day and into the next; and just as it cleared off she fell in with a twelve-gun brig, that she captured. Then she ran into the jaws of two British men-of-war. They supposed she would steer so as to avoid both of them at the same time, and under that supposition they separated. The Saratoga watched her chance, suddenly going about, and steering straight between them. They could not turn as quickly as she could, and before they went about she was practically out of danger; the shot flew thick about her, but did no serious damage. In June of that year (1814) I sailed on what I intended should be my last cruise; and it proved to be the last, though it ended quite differently from what I had planned. Robert Burns tells us in his ode "To a Mouse," that <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> <div class="line">""The best laid schemes o' mice and men,</div> <div class="linec">Gang aft a-gley."</div> </div></div> </div> [268] And so it was with my last cruise in the Marguerite, in what proved to be the closing year of the war. The privateers had committed so much havoc among British merchantmen, that few vessels ventured on the ocean without convoy. Occasionally a privateer would succeed in cutting out one of the convoyed craft, but the chance did not come often enough to make the business encouraging. Sometimes it happened that a ship-of-war was disguised as a merchantman; and when a privateer drew up alongside in full confidence of having taken a rich prize, ports opened in the side of the apparently peaceful craft, guns were run out, and the privateer was quickly brought to grief by twice or three times the weight of her metal; or if she managed to escape, it was only after severe suffering. On this cruise I sailed away to the eastward, avoiding the big men-of-war and the convoys, in the hope of falling upon an unprotected merchant-ship. Nothing was seen that appeared judicious for the Marguerite to attack, until we were more than half-way across the Atlantic. One afternoon we made out a sail to the eastward, and I cracked on in her direction in order to get near enough to make her out, and decide whether to close or give her a wide berth. We overhauled her rapidly, and while the sun was yet well in the sky. I was satisfied that,[269] though much larger than the Marguerite, she was not sufficiently strong to cope with us successfully. So I kept on while she was trying to escape us, and in due time I fired a gun as a signal for her to heave-to. She paid no attention to it; and then I fired another gun, following it by a third, which sent a ball through her mainsail. Upon this she took the hint, and hauled aback to wait for us to come up. The Marguerite ranged alongside the stranger, and not more than two hundred yards away. Just as we were fairly abreast of her, and I was putting the trumpet to my lips to order her captain to send a boat on board, there was a transformation which would have done credit to a well-managed theater! Seven holes opened in the side of the strange craft, seven ports dropped, and seven guns were run out. The instant they had been run out they were aimed and fired, so that the whole operation was performed in less time than it takes me to tell it. The shot came crashing into the schooner; and they were so well aimed that I believe every one of them hulled her. We returned fire very promptly, as every man had been standing to his post, and all was in readiness; but, of course, the stranger had the advantage of first fire, and at short range too. We had but three guns in our broadside to oppose[270] to seven; and, furthermore, the guns of the stranger were much heavier than ours. Instantly I saw that to lie where we were would be certain destruction, and my best course was to try to carry the enemy by boarding, or else run away, if running were possible. I gave the order to lay the ship aboard; but when we tried the maneuver it was found that the schooner would not answer the helm, her rudder having been shot away close to the head. A few minutes later the carpenter reported that the schooner was badly hit below the water-line, and was leaking fast. At the third broadside our foremast was shot through about twenty feet above the deck. It was not cut short off, but so weakened that as soon as a strain was put upon it, it broke and fell. In its fall it killed one man and injured another, and it buried one of the guns beneath the folds of the foresail. Not many minutes after announcing the leak caused by the enemy's shot, the carpenter reported eight inches of water in the hold, and the opening of additional leaks by the guns of our antagonist. With rudder and foremast gone, the Marguerite was totally unmanageable. She was leaking so badly that she would sink in a few hours; and though we had inflicted considerable damage upon the enemy, he was far less disabled than we were. [271] My list of killed and wounded was not small; and though my men were ready to keep up the struggle as long as any of them were able to stand, I saw that further fighting was useless. It was with a heavy heart that I gave the order to cease firing and haul down the flag. The crew was wild with excitement, and I never saw them make so near an approach to mutiny as at that time. Had they received any encouragement from the mates, I am quite confident they would have refused to lower the ensign when I gave the order to do so, but would have fought on till the deck settled beneath them into the waters of the Atlantic, or the last man dropped from wounds or exhaustion. Instantly the enemy ceased firing. I got out the only boat that had not been smashed by the enemy's shot. While the men were getting it into the water I hailed our captor, and announced that we were sinking. Soon as I could get there I went on board the victor to make formal surrender of the Marguerite; and while on the way we were met by two boats that had come to remove our men ere the schooner went down. I carried with me all my official and private papers, together with such other things as I could hastily gather, since there was considerable doubt about my being able to return to save anything from the fast[272] sinking vessel. Haines said he would lookout for the rest of my effects, or as much of them as he would be able to save; and I told him to tell the crew to get their dunnage bags ready for immediate transfer to the vessel that had made prize of us. When I came into the presence of the captain to whom I was now a prisoner, I saw a face and heard a voice that seemed familiar to me. For a moment I could not identify their owner, but very quickly I made out who he was, though I gave no sign of recognition. "I am Captain Crane of the American privateer, Marguerite," said I. "I surrender my vessel and crew to you!" "Your schooner is sinking," was the reply; "how long can she keep afloat?" "Perhaps for two or three hours," I answered. "Your guns were well served, and have done you credit." Then he told his first officer to bring the crew of the Marguerite on board as soon as possible, save all the property that could be saved from the wreck, and then let her sink. Turning to me, he said,— "Captain Crane, will you come below?" Of course I accepted the invitation, and followed him to his cabin. As we took seats at the table he announced that I had surrendered to the British[273] privateer, Reindeer, Captain Woods; and then he shook my hand heartily. "It's a long time since we met after the loss of the Evelyn," said he, "and for your sake I'm sorry for the circumstance of our meeting to-day. I've heard of the Marguerite and the mischief she has been doing, but had no suspicion that her captain and I were acquainted." He told me that he had been in command of the Reindeer for more than a year, and had taken several American prizes, and sunk two privateers by the same ruse he practised on me. "With your crew we shall have all the prisoners we can care for; and I shall now steer for England. If I fall in with a vessel which I can convert into a cartel I will stay on the seas a while longer; but if not, I shall hope to land you in Plymouth in a week or ten days." Then we had a general conversation on various topics, the steward serving us with refreshments while our talk was going on. Altogether, I was made to forget, in some degree, the misfortune that had overtaken me; and I certainly congratulated myself that, if fate had decreed that I was to be captured, she had allowed me to fall into the hands where I found myself. I gave my parole that I would make no attempt[274] to escape, or countenance any insurrection on the part of the prisoners; and after remaining below for half an hour or so, went on deck with Captain Woods. We were lying not more than a hundred yards from the Marguerite, and tears came into my eyes as I saw what a hopeless wreck had been made of her, and how the water had risen so far up her sides that her sinking would not be long delayed. Haines was still on board with ten or twelve men of our crew, and they were helping the British sailors to remove barrels and boxes of provisions, and casks of water, from the schooner to the barque. I should have stated that our captor was a barque, mounting fourteen guns, and having a crew proportionately large. She was disguised as a merchantman, and no one looking at her would suspect that she was as dangerous as she proved to be on close acquaintance. "All's fair in love and war," says the old adage; and I have no reason to complain of the deception that was practised upon me. Tricks of this sort are heard of in all wars; and I bear in mind that I had not been averse to deceptions in several instances, and successful ones too. Two hours from the time we struck our flag, the decks of the Marguerite were almost awash, and the danger was imminent that the schooner would go[275] down and carry with her some of the men who were still on board. So the order was given to abandon the vessel, and very quickly it was obeyed. Five minutes after the last of the boats left her side, she disappeared below the waves, and went to rest in the bosom of the Atlantic. It was a sad sight for me and my men to gaze upon; but, after all, I had much rather have it so than see the Marguerite brought as a prize into a British port. I know that the same feelings animated my men; and so the cloud that settled upon us was not altogether without its silver lining. When the privateer was gone from view, the Reindeer filled away in the direction of England. At a suggestion from Captain Woods, I called my men together and told them that by giving their honorable promise not to enter into any conspiracy against their captors, they could have certain privileges not usually accorded to prisoners on shipboard. They would be divided into watches, and each watch would have the privilege of the deck alternately for four hours every day, under the supervision of their first and second mates. The sailors readily entered into the agreement, and promised to keep to it faithfully. Most of them got on good terms with the British sailors, while some remained sullen, and refused to be friendly with those who had captured them.[276] Some of the victors were inclined to bully the captives; but the bullying was stopped by the orders of Captain Woods, though not until one of the offenders had been triced up and flogged, by way of a hint to the rest as well as to himself. Eleven days after our capture we passed Land's End, the most southerly point of England, and on the next day we reached Plymouth Sound, where we cast anchor. Plymouth is an important port and naval station of England; it has been fortified since the fourteenth century, and has an interesting connection with many events of the world's history. It was from Plymouth that Hawkins, Cook, Drake, and other famous navigators sailed on many of their expeditions; it was from here that the fleet of Lord Howard of Effingham went out to meet the Spanish Armada, in 1588, and it was from the same port that the Pilgrim Fathers of New England sailed in the Mayflower, in 1620, to establish on the other side of the Atlantic a town of the same name. Captain Woods called my attention to the Hoe, which is a high promenade overlooking the town and the Sound, and is said to be the spot where Sir Francis Drake was interrupted at a game of bowls by the news that the Spanish Armada was near the coast. The others wanted to hurry on board ship[277] at once; but Drake said, "We've time to play the game out and beat the Spaniards too." They finished the game, and the Spanish Armada was destroyed in due time. The prisoners on the Reindeer were turned over to the authorities. We felt very grateful to Captain Woods for his kindness to us; and when we came to anchor I drew up a paper setting forth his courtesies to us, and asking that, if he should ever become a prisoner in American hands, he should be treated as kindly as he had treated the officers and crew of the Marguerite. This was signed by myself and my first and second mates, and by all of my men who were asked to sign it. Before we left the Reindeer Captain Woods called me into his cabin and told me what I knew very well without his saying so; that my promises relative to attempts to escape ended when we passed out of his hands. "And I wish to say further," said he, "that if you should find yourself wandering about the streets of Plymouth, you will do well to go to The Blue Anchor boarding-house, in the Barbican, facing Sutton Pool, and ask for Joe Waghorn, who keeps it. Say the same to Haines, your second mate." With that he clasped my hand warmly, and we returned to the deck. In half an hour the boats had[278] landed us, and we were marched off to the Citadel, where we were placed under guard for the night. What was to be our fate or destination, none of us could tell. I revolved in mind constantly the parting words of Captain Woods, and determined to find The Blue Anchor as soon as possible. So did Haines, to whom I confided the secret, with the injunction to learn from the guards the way to the Barbican and Sutton Pool, but not to mention the boarding-house or the name of its proprietor. Officers and crew were separated in the quarters where we were placed for the night, partly in order to preserve the distinction between them, and partly in consequence of the greater security the plan afforded. The chances of a conspiracy would have been much greater if officers and men were together, as the former could furnish the brains for a plot, while the latter could supply the muscle. Sailors have the courage for executing a scheme which may demand all the aggressive qualities of human nature, but they have not usually the skill for devising the scheme itself. Haines ascertained from one of the guards the location of the Barbican quarter of Plymouth, and we racked our brains to invent a way for eluding the vigilance of our keepers, but all to no purpose.[279] We learned that there had been so many escapes that the officers and men of the garrison were unusually watchful; the authorities had decreed that an escape, no matter under what circumstances, would be followed by severe punishment of those in charge at the time. I heard of a case in which a prisoner got away by creeping behind his guard, knocking him down with a stone, and escaping while the soldier lay senseless. The soldier was so severely wounded that he was sent to the hospital. When he recovered and came out, he was punished for his negligence in permitting the prisoner to regain his liberty. In the quarters where we were placed we found several other prisoners of our own nationality; and under the circumstances it did not take long for us to get acquainted. We were kept at Plymouth for two days. On the afternoon of the second day several new prisoners arrived, and the guard told us we were to set out early in the morning for Dartmoor Prison. <hr class="chap" /> [280] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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