IN THE HARBOR OF FAYAL
On the lake front at Chicago during the World's Fair, close by theentrance to the long walk that led out to the marvellously constructedimitation battle-ship, the _Illinois_, rested an old iron muzzle-loader.It was a clumsy-looking piece of ordnance compared to the shining,complicated bits of machinery that compose the batteries of a modernwar-ship. It looked very out of date and harmless, and people who didnot know its history passed it by with hardly a second glance. But yetthis old gun had taken more white men's lives in battle than all thegreat modern breech-loaders on the fleets of Europe combined to-day.It was but nine or ten feet long and threw a solid ball twenty-fourpounds in weight. A small inscription on a metal plate told theinquisitive that the gun was the "Long Tom," from the privateer_General Armstrong_, that had been sunk in the harbor of Fayal, inSeptember of the year 1814; that it had subsequently been raised andpresented by the Portuguese government to the United States. Therewere some who knew the story, for it had been told many times, andlong years ago the country rang with it. Every one then knew the mainfacts of the incident, and because of a long controversy in the courtsowing to claims that arose from the action for indemnity against thePortuguese government, the matter was kept alive up to a very recentdate. But an unfamiliar story in connection with a well-known fact maynot be amiss, and this is a tale of the harbor of Fayal that perhapsfew have heard before.
But to get to the telling of it, it is necessary to recount a good dealof what is recorded history.
The _General Armstrong_ was a privateer brig outfitted at New York. Shewas owned in part by a New York merchant, a Mr. Havens, and in part byher commander, Samuel C. Reid, and a better sailor never stood insea-boots. She was not a big ship; but her armament had been skilfullychosen. Her crew of picked men had been drilled man-of-war fashion. Shemounted eight long nine-pounders, four on a side, and amidships shecarried the big twenty-four-pounder before referred to. Her FirstLieutenant was a Mr. Alexander O. Williams, a very young man, but athorough and practical seaman; her Second was named Worth; her ThirdLieutenant's name was Johnson; her crew, all Americans, numbered ninetysouls all told. Among them was an active, handsome fellow, namedWilliam Copeland. He was down on the privateer's books as able seaman;but before the _General Armstrong_ had been two weeks at sea, Copelandwas promoted for meritorious conduct in an action with a British armedschooner, that was sent home as a prize, to be quarter gunner. It wasReid and himself that squinted along the black barrel of the old LongTom, when she fought in the harbor of Fayal.
It was the 26th day of September that the _General Armstrong_ castanchor there. The weather had been very fine, and Captain Reid, veryproud of his vessel, had done everything to make her look smart andtidy. Her rigging was all tuned up to concert pitch; her decks were aswhite as sand and holystone could make them, and the men, contrary tothe habit of most privateers, were dressed in suits of white duck andblue. The American Consul, John D. Dabney, felt a thrill of pride as hesaw the man-of-war fashion with which the _General Armstrong_ came toanchor. As the long white gig came rolling up to the pier, and the menboated their oars, Mr. Dabney recognized that the officer sitting inthe stern sheets was an old friend of his.
"Ah, Captain Reid," he exclaimed. "Glad to see you. My compliments toyou on the appearance of your vessel. I thought at first that she mustbe one of the regular navy; in fact, I took her for the _Enterprise_."
"Well, I flatter myself that she is quite as shipshape," returnedCaptain Reid. "And I have to work my crew pretty hard to keep fromshowing how well satisfied I am with them. I tell you, Dabney, it isn'tevery man that has had such a fine lot of fellows under him. As to mysuccess so far, it has been fair enough; but I'd really like to measuredistances and exchange a few shots with some of His Majesty's littlefellows."
"You have come to a good place to look for them," Dabney returned. "Itis seldom that a week passes without having one or more of them dropanchor in the roads."
Chatting together in this friendly fashion, the two gentlemen went upinto the town. It was late in the evening before Reid came to thewater-front to signal for his boat. Dabney was still with him. Theywalked down to the end of the pier, and Reid suddenly pointed:--
"By Jupiter!" he exclaimed, "here we come," and following his fingerDabney saw three big vessels lazily moving along before the slightwind, toward the harbor entrance. Their earlier approach had beenhidden by the headlands.
The harbor of Fayal is surrounded by hills, on the slopes of which thetown is built, and the bay extends in a semicircle with twowide-reaching arms. The water runs deep into the shore. The sun wassetting in the calm evening sky, and there was scarce enough movementon the surface of the bay to catch the red reflections. Dabney turnedto Captain Reid after the first long look.
"English, or else I'm much mistaken," he said quietly.
"Not the least doubt of it in my mind," Reid returned, "and if therewas more of a wind, by Jove, I'd try to get out of this.... Do youthink it is safe to stay?"
"It is a neutral port," Dabney returned, "and Portugal and England havebeen such friends, that I do not think John Bull would take advantageof his position here. In my opinion they will respect the neutrality."
"Well, they won't catch me napping," Reid returned, as he stepped intothe gig; and after requesting the Consul's presence at dinner on thefollowing evening, he gave the order to shove off, and pulled away forhis vessel.
Mr. Williams, the First Lieutenant, met him at the gangway. "You haveobserved our friends yonder?" he asked, pitching his thumb over hisshoulder. "I wish we were out of here."
"So do I," Reid returned, "but we must make the best of it."
It was a beautiful sight to see the great square-rigged ships come toanchor. Forward and aft all hands were on deck watching the Englishmen-of-war perform the manoeuvre.
"Well done!" exclaimed William Copeland, the quarter gunner, turning toa group of his messmates. "It takes an Englishman or a Yankee to make avessel behave as if she were alive. By Davy's locker!" he exclaimedsuddenly, "I know that nearest ship; it's the _Plantagenet_, I'll betmy prize money. Good cause have I to remember her; she picked me up inthe North Sea and I served three years in her confounded carcass. Threewicked, sweating years, my lads."
"Where did you leave her, Bill?" asked one of the seamen standing nearhim.
"At Cape Town, during the war against the Dutch. I'll spin the yarn toyou some day. My brother and I were took at the same time. The last Iseed of him was when we lowered ourselves out of the sick bay into thewater to swim a good three miles to the whaler--that was three yearsago."
"Do you reckon he was drownded, Bill?"
"Reckon so. Leastways I haven't heard from him, poor lad!"
Further talk was interrupted by an order from the quarter-deck callingaway the first cutter to carry a stream anchor in towards shore inorder to warp the brig close under the walls of the "castle" a littlebattery of four or five guns that commanded the inner harbor. CaptainReid's suspicions had been awakened by seeing a boat put off from theshore, and noticing that one of the frigates was getting up her anchorpreparatory to drawing in nearer. In less than half an hour he wasmoored stem and stern so close under the walls of the little fort thathe could have hurled a marline-spike against the walls from his ownquarter-deck. As it grew darker he could see from the flashing oflights that the English vessels were holding communication with oneanother, and occasionally across the water would come the sound ofcreaking blocks or the lilt of a pipe. He knew well enough that suchgoings on were not without some object, and calling all of his officersaft they held a short consultation. It was exactly eight o'clock in theevening. From shore there came a sound of fiddles and singing. AlthoughCaptain Reid had promised the men liberty that evening, owing to theposition of affairs the order had been rescinded, but neverthelessthere was some grumbling in the forecastle; for if a sailor doesn'tgrumble when he gets a chance, he is not a sailor.
"I'll be shot if I can see why the old man won't l
et us ashore,"growled a sturdy young topman. "D'ye hear them fiddles, Jack? Can't yousee the senoritas adancin'? My heels itch for the touch of a springyfloor and my arm has a crook to it that would just fit a neat youngwaist. Do you remember--"
"Stow your jaw, Dummer," broke in a heavy voice half angrily. "And youtoo, Merrick, clap a stopper on it," turning to another of themalcontents. "Hush now, listen all hands.... Oars! can't ye hear 'em?And muffled too, by the Piper! Pass the word below; all hands!" Withthat William Copeland ran aft to the quarter-deck. Captain Reid met himat the mast.
"Their boats are coming, sir," Copeland whispered excitedly; "five orsix of 'em, I should judge."
"Are the broadside guns ready?"
"Aye, aye, sir, and double-shotted; two of them with grape andcanister."
"How's the Long Tom?"
"Ready to speak for himself, sir," Copeland replied with a touch ofpride, for the big gun was his especial pet.
The three lieutenants had now grouped close together. "See that themagazine is opened, Mr. Worth, and Mr. Williams call the men to theirstations quietly. They will try to come in on the port hand mostprobably. Gentlemen, to your stations. No firing until you get the wordfrom the quarter-deck, and stop all talking on the ship."
Even the sentry, patrolling his beat on the castle walls, did not hearor notice anything extraordinary on board the privateer, so silentlywere the orders followed out. The moon was struggling to pierce throughthe thin, filmy clouds that obscured her light. It was one of thosenights when objects appear suddenly out of the invisible and take shapewith distinctness close to hand. But every one could hear the soundsnow.
"Thrum, thrum, thrum," the swing of oars; despite that the rhythm wasmuffled and subdued.
Reid was leaning over the rail with a night glass aimed in thedirection of the frigate. A figure hurried to his side. It wasLieutenant Williams. "We can see them from for'ard, sir," he saidbreathlessly. "Everything is ready, and there's surely some mischiefafoot."
"Yes, I can see them now; four of them, chock a block with men," Reidreturned, closing the glass with a snap. "Now stand by, all hands, fororders." Then raising his voice, he shot the following question outinto the semi-darkness: "On board the boats, there! There is no landinghere. Keep away from our side."
The rowing ceased; but it was only an instant and then it began again.
"I warn you to come no nearer!" shouted Reid. "You do so at yourperil."
Four dark shapes were now visible without the aid of any glass. Theplash of the oars could be heard as they caught the water. Reid justnoticed the figure of William Copeland bending over the breech of theLong Tom, whose muzzle extended across the bulwarks.
"Keep off or I shall fire!" he warned for the third time. There came ananswer to this clear enough to be heard by every man standing at theguns.
"Give way, lads, together."
"Fire!" roared Reid, in a voice that must have been heard distinctlyalong the shore. The reply was a scarlet burst of flame and a crashthat sent the echoes up the hills. It stopped the fiddles in thedance-house; it set the drums and bugles rolling and tooting in thefortress, and the American Consul, sitting over his coffee on thepublic square, jumped to his feet, and ran, followed by a clamoringcrowd, to the pier-head.
From the direction of the boats came a confusion of orders followingthe broadside. Groans and shrieks for help arose from the darkness.Some spurts of flame came quickly and several musket-balls whistledover the _Armstrong's_ deck. Then the loud report of a heavy boat gun,and a groan and cry followed immediately from the brig's forecastle.
All was silent now except for the sound of plashing in the water andsome groans and muffled cries. Reid was about to hail when he saw threemen hurrying aft with a heavy burden in their arms.
"It's Mr. Williams, sir; he's shot in the head, and Dummer, of theforward division, sir, is killed," one of them said gruffly. PoorDummer! He would dance no more with the senoritas--there were to be nomore liberty parties for him.
Reid's intention of lowering away a boat faded from his mind. Therewould be more of the same sort of work before long; that he knew well.One of the boats had been sunk, for the wreck came drifting in close tothe brig's side. The other three could be heard making off to theships, their rowing growing fainter every minute. Lieutenants Worth andJohnson came aft to report.
"We are in for it, gentlemen," said Reid; "but they won't cut thisvessel out without more discussion on the subject. The idea of suchtreachery in a friendly harbor! They received their just deserts." Hisanger got the better of him for an instant, and he could say no more."Poor Williams!" he murmured at last. "Is he badly hurt?"
"He is mortally wounded, sir, I am afraid," Mr. Johnson returned.
"A good friend and a fine officer gone," put in Lieutenant Worth. "Somuch for this night's work."
"Do not fear; there'll be more of it, and we'll have our hands full,"Reid continued. "Mr. Johnson, you will see that the boarding-nettingsare spread, and load the midship gun with lagrange and a star shot.Have pikes and cutlasses ready."
"Are you going ashore, sir, to see the commander of the fort? He surelyshould protect us?" asked Mr. Worth.
"We need count no longer on him," was Reid's rejoinder. "We will haveto do our own protecting. See that every musket and pistol is loadedand laid handy and, stay," he added, "cut away the bulwarks just abaftthe gangway and bring two of those starboard guns across the deck. Wewill need them all, to my way of thinking."
The crowds gathered on the shore could hear the sounds of preparation.From the English squadron also came a babble of orders and movement.The lights were doubled in number. Every port shone brightly. The moonhad now risen until objects could be seen quite plainly.
"They are preparing for an attack in force," Reid said, handing theglass to Mr. Johnson, who had already seen that the boarding-nettingshad been spread above the railing. The men forward were busy settingsome spare spars to act as booms to keep the boats from gaining thevessel's bows. Time passed swiftly. At twelve o'clock the oars beganagain. But they were not muffled now! "Click, clock," they came onwardwith a rush. Voices could be heard urging the rowers to more exertion,as if they were racing crews out for a practice spin. Reid waslevelling the glass.
"Ten, twelve, thirteen, fourteen--fourteen boats loaded to the guards,"he said. "God's love, there must be four hundred men: they mean to takeus if they can." He looked down at his own little deck. He had lessthan ninety now; but they were ninety stout, good fellows who would notflinch. In the rays of the battle lanterns and the pale light of themoon, Captain Reid saw that they were ready to fight their last fightmaybe.
It was no time to make a speech; but the men could hear every word hesaid without gathering nearer. "Lads," he said, "reserve your fireuntil you get the word from me. Don't waste a single shot, and rememberthis: aim low.... Copeland!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Cover that leading boat."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
A big pinnace or barge, holding perhaps eighty men, was heading theflotilla by almost a hundred feet. The grinding of a handspike on thedeck broke the silence, as the Long Tom was slewed about to bear uponher.
"Handsomely now, men," cajoled Copeland. "Handsomely; that's well."
The great boat was rowing in directly on that gun as if towed by aline. She was heading on to death and destruction!
Consul Dabney, standing with the anxious crowd on the shore, held hisbreath.
Was Reid going to submit to be taken without striking another blow? Notmuch. With a long flare of flame that leaped from the _Armstrong's_side, arose a great shout from the spectators.
The bow of the pinnace was stove in, and she pitched forward into thewater like an angry bull brought to his knees by a rifle shot. Menabsolutely boiled out of her. The moonlit water was dotted with blackobjects; some threshing with their arms, others silent and motionless.There came a rattling reply of small-arms from the boats, and the longnines answered them. The action was on in earnest. N
o one can gainsaythe courage that was displayed by the attacking force. They wereEnglishmen; it is not necessary to say more. The firing becameincessant. The men on the _Armstrong_ had scarce time to reload theirguns. They would snatch up a pistol here and a musket there and fireout at the water that was crisscrossed with the red flashes of theanswering shots. More than once a boat had reached the side. On twooccasions men had sprung to the bulwarks, and clung to theboarding-nettings until shot away. Every now and then the Long Tomwould let go a half-bucketful of grape and scrap iron, hurling deathinto the boats. Every one of the privateer's crew seemed gifted withfour arms. From one point of attack to another they chased about thedeck. It seemed as if she numbered three times her complement. BillCopeland was fighting like a demon. Twice had he run along the top ofthe bulwarks, exposed to every aim. Suddenly he saw that one of theboats had worked around to the starboard side. Giving the alarm, andfollowed by a half-score of the after-guard, he ran across to meet thisunexpected danger. One of the men who followed him caught up atwenty-four-pound solid shot in his arms as he ran. Another followedhis example. Both shot crashed through the bottom of the boat, and avolley was poured down into them. But three or four of the men hadalready reached the chains.
"There was a figure crawling up below him."]
Copeland sprang to the bulwarks with his cutlass in his hand. There wasa figure crawling up below him. Leaning forward, he made a quick strokethat would have severed the man's throat had he not leaned backsuddenly and avoided it. Again he drew back his sharpened cutlass forthe death blow, and then he saw that the fellow was unarmed. Somethingstayed his hand; he bent still further forward, and just as theEnglishman was about to fall back into the water, he grasped him by thewrist.
"My God, Jed!" he cried, and exerting all his strength he dragged hisprisoner over the rail on to the deck. Those who had time to witnessit, saw a curious sight. There was Bill Copeland holding fast toanother man, their arms on each other's shoulders.
"Jed, don't ye know me?" Bill was crying; "but, Lord love ye lad,you're wounded." A shudder went through him as he realized how close hehad been to sending home that fatal thrust. The man with a pigtail downhis back leaned forward weakly.
"I'm hurted bad, Bill," he said. "But go on and fight; leave me alone;egad, you've whipped 'em." Sure enough, the firing had now slackened.Four or five of the boats had retreated beyond gun shot. _They wereall that could do so unaided._
"Cease firing!" ordered Captain Reid, hastening about the deck. "Ceasefiring here! They have given up. Where is Mr. Johnson?" he roared,pushing his way into a group of men who were about to reload one of thenine-pounders. He had to cuff his way amongst them to make them desist."Where is Mr. Johnson?" he repeated.
"He's wounded, sir."
"And Mr. Worth is wounded too, sir," put in another man. "I helped himbelow myself."
As suddenly as the action had begun it had ended. By the light of alantern Captain Reid glanced at his watch. It was forty minutes sincethe first gun had been fired. He looked about his decks. Although theywere littered with loose running-gear, handspikes, cutlasses, andmuskets, at the sight his heart gave a great bound of joy. There wereno mangled figures or pools of slippery blood. It seemed hardlypossible.
But from the wreckage in the water came groans and cries. He lookedover the side. There lay, rocking, two broken boats filled with huddledfigures, some moving weakly.
"Here!" he shouted to some of the men. "Bear a hand; save all we can."
It was a sudden transition, this, from taking life to saving it; butthe men turned to with a will. In one of the boats twelve dead bodieswere found, and but seventeen of her crew had escaped with their lives,and they were all badly wounded. Of the four hundred men who hadcommenced that bold attack, only one-half returned to the ships unhurt.Reid hurried down into the cockpit. It seemed past believing. _But twoof his men, including the brave Williams, had been killed, and butseven wounded!_ This is history.
But a sight he saw attracted the Captain's attention. It was BillCopeland sitting on the deck, with his arms about a pale figure whosehead lay in Copeland's lap. The resemblance between the men wasstriking.
"What have we here?" asked Captain Reid.
"My brother, sir," Copeland returned.
"Your brother!"
"Aye, sir; from the _Plantaganet_. He was the only one who got on boardof us!"
The man spoke with an accent of pride, and the wounded one opened hiseyes.
"Bill, here, he hauled me on board," he said.
When the surgeon found time to attend to Copeland's wounds, hepronounced them not to be of a dangerous character, and the man wassoon made comfortable.
All night long, the _Armstrong's_ people slept beside their guns, butthere was no evidence of any further intention to attack on the partof the British. The _Carnation_, which was the nearest of the vesselsto the privateer, had her boats out at daybreak. All day long theykept carrying their dead on shore. From the _Rota_ there were seventyfunerals! But the _Armstrong_ was not left unmolested. At eighto'clock the _Carnation_ began firing at close range. For a fewminutes, Captain Reid replied with some effect. But resistance wasuseless, and at nine he ordered all hands into the boats, and made forthe shore, every one arriving there in safety. He had bored a largehole in the _Armstrong's_ bottom, but before she sank, two boats fromthe _Carnation_ rowed out to her, and the English set her on fire....The inhabitants of the town, all of whose sympathies were with theAmericans, did everything in their power to assist the wounded, andmany were the indignant protests against the action of Captain Lloyd,the English senior officer.
It now came to light that Mr. Dabney had complained to the commander ofthe Castle as soon as the firing had begun the previous night, and thatthe Portuguese commander had written a letter to Lloyd, but thelatter's reply had been only a menacing insult. So angry were theEnglish at the fearful drubbing they had received, that they insistedupon the government officials delivering the crew of the _Armstrong_ upto them, upon the ground that there were deserters among them. Thereexisted, between Portugal and England, a treaty that demanded thereturn of prisoners accused of high treason, and Captain Lloyd, byclaiming that deserters were guilty of this crime, had a technicalright for examination of the American refugees.... But hearing thedanger they were in, Captain Reid and his men, after securing somearms, barricaded themselves in a small stone church, back in thecountry, where they dared the Englishmen to come and take them. It wasa difficult position for them to maintain. If Captain Lloyd's statementwas correct, then the Portuguese government was bound to hand them overas deserters, or place themselves in a bad position with England. Aftera long deliberation, Reid consented to have his men submit to anexamination. They were all arrested, and brought to town, and not asingle deserter was found among them!
But what of Copeland, the wounded prisoner? He lay hidden in one of thehouses of a friendly Portuguese, and his name was probably reported onthe _Plantagenet's_ books as "missing." On the 28th of the month, twoBritish sloops of war, the _Thais_ and _Clypso_, came into port, andwere immediately sent back to England with the British wounded. The twoCopeland brothers returned to the United States, with the rest of the_Armstrong's_ crew, and both served in the navy for the rest of thewar.
The owners of the _Armstrong_ attempted for many years to obtainredress for the loss of their ship. Again and again were they put offand denied. But in this year, 1897, some money was received, andstrange to say, was paid to the widow of the owner, Mr. Havens. Shedied but a short time ago, at the age of ninety-eight, at Stamford,Connecticut.