Commodore Barney's Young Spies: A Boy's Story of the Burning of the City of WashingtonOtis, James
History
Commodore Barney's Young Spies: A Boy's Story of the Burning of the City of Washington
Otis, James
Washington (D.C.) -- History -- Capture by the British, 1814 -- Juvenile fiction
"That was plain sailin'. Bill was one of the first put into the place,
an' knowin' he'd take a trip to the yard-arm when the Britishers found
out who he was, he naturally took advantage of the chance to snoop
'round a bit. We had the run of the whole buildin', seein's there
wasn't many of us, an' when he went in the prisoners didn't number
more'n twenty. He found a key in the door that led up to the attic,
which seemed to be a sort of store-room, an', thinkin' it might come
in handy if the others didn't know the lay of the land, he locked the
bloomin' place, havin' done so without bein' seen. When I came he
didn't know anythin' about the scuttle; but we figgered that if there
wasn't one, we could get up stairs an' pull bricks enough out of the
chimney to give us a hole. There wasn't any need of doin' that,
however, 'cause we found the hatch bolted on the inside, an' the rest
was easy. The only thing about the whole business which bothers me is,
why the Britishers didn't have a good look around before turnin' the
buildin' into a jail."
"The drubbin' they got at Bladensburg, even though they did win the
battle, confused them," my father said with a chuckle of satisfaction.
"It strikes me that we'd better get the pungy under way mighty soon,"
Captain Hanaford interrupted. "It can't be a great while before some
of the crowd sees the rope we left danglin' from the chimney, an' then
you may set it down as a fact that this city will be searched in a way
that won't be comfortable for us."
"But where'll you go, Bob?" Bill Jepson asked. "The British fleet is
in the river, an' to sail up stream strikes me as bein' dangerous, for
they can send light boats after us, an' this draft won't make much
fist of runnin' away from them in such a breeze as you've got now."
"I had an idee the wind was gettin' up," the oysterman said as he
opened the hatch a few inches, and at that instant a gust swept into
the cuddy bringing with it a full pail of water.
"A good, nice little thunder squall," the captain said in a tone of
content, "an' if it comes from the right quarter, we're in luck."
Darius was on deck in a twinkling, and I followed him, hoping that we
might be able to leave our mooring, for at such a time it would not be
a very difficult matter to get so far up stream as to baffle pursuit.
At the moment, however, it seemed as if our good fortune had deserted
us. The wind was drawing down the river with a force that shut off all
hope of sending the pungy against it, and the rain came in such
torrents that the deck was awash in short order.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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