The Minute Boys of Long Island : $b A story of New York in 1776 as told by Ephraim LyttleOtis, James
History
The Minute Boys of Long Island : $b A story of New York in 1776 as told by Ephraim Lyttle
Otis, James
New York (State) -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
As he spoke I hauled the Swiftsure a trifle more to the southward, so
that the brig would have to change her course in order to come within
musket-shot of us, reckoning at the time that our swinging around would
not be noticed by the enemy; but I soon had good reason to know that we
were being watched very closely.
The brig’s bow came around to meet the change in our course, and if the
two craft continued on without change of helm, they would come together
midway between the two shores.
“They’ve got their eyes on us mighty sharp,” Abe said grimly as he
noted the movements of the brig. “We may as well be killed for a sheep
as a lamb, so why not head due south, an’ take the chances? That’s
what you’ll have to do precious soon if we count on leadin’ ’em a
chase.”
I acted upon the suggestion at once, and now with the wind abeam, and
the sheets hauled sharp in, our little craft was at her best. If we
could not show the brig our heels on this stretch, it never could be
done.
The Britishers were attending to their business sharply enough to
please the veriest grumbler, for within twenty seconds after I had
hauled around we saw the flash of a gun, and a solid shot skipped
across our bow no more than fifty yards away.
“That means they’re bent on havin’ a closer look at us,” Abe said with
never a tremor of the voice, and I would have given everything I owned
to have been able to appear as unconcerned as he. It is not to be
supposed I was showing myself a coward, for I afterward came to know
from what my comrades said that they believed my heart was as stout as
the bravest; but I myself knew that my mouth suddenly became parched,
my heart forced itself into my throat at seeming risk of choking me,
while my hands would have trembled but for the grip I had on the spokes
of the wheel.
“Trim ship a bit, an’ lay low,” Seth Hartley said suddenly. “The sloop
will do better if we get our stations an’ keep ’em. There’s no need of
a lookout now, an’ I’m thinkin’ two of us had best go amidships.”
The benefit of the change of position on our part could be seen
immediately the lads got settled down; but at that moment I did not
have time to note it critically, for the brig let fly another shot,
and when I heard the missile whistling above my head it seemed as if it
came within a few inches of striking us.
“The oftener she fires the better will be our chances of givin’ them
the slip,” Abe said as he raised his head to look at the enemy. “I’m
ready to take your place at the helm, Eph, if you’ll feel any more safe
lyin’ here.”
Even though I had known to a certainty that the next shot would hit me,
I would not have exchanged places with him, for even though my heart
was thumping loudly because of fear, my comrades should never know that
being under fire disturbed me in the slightest, and I replied, calling
up the most cheery tone at my command:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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