The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the RevolutionStoddard, William O.
History
The Noank's Log: A Privateer of the Revolution
Stoddard, William O.
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
Once the schooner was under way, Guert found himself more at liberty
than usual, for all kinds of his sea schooling were given a vacation.
His head was even more full than ordinary, however, and he had an
especial reason for getting away with Sam Prentice during their next
watch on deck. He had several times heard the mate talk about pirates.
He had also heard something about them from Up-na-tan and Coco and the
crew. Until now, however, all that he had heard at any time had been
listened to as if it were unreal. He had never read a novel, and so he
did not know that all of it had seemed to him a kind of pretty,
interesting story of fiction, and not anything more. It was very
different, now that he had seen a black flag and sent a heavy shot into
the hull under it, and had watched while that hull went down.
"About the buccaneers, eh?" said Sam, as they leaned over the
quarter-rail and looked out into the darkness. "Well! I s'pose there
are books about 'em. You can learn a good deal from books, but I don't
know any that'll tell you all there is 'bout those islands. There's
too many of 'em, hundreds, mebbe, with outlyin' reefs and ledges. Then
there are any number o' bays and inlets and lagoons. That's why it's
so hard to follow up and ketch light draft pirate vessels. They can
hide in a thousand out o' the way places until they git ready to run
out and make a strike. One o' their biggest helps is the caves on some
o' the islands. Safest kind o' places for men to hide plunder in, too.
Some of 'em open right down at the water line, and some of 'em have
deep water for quite a way in from the mouth. You can row a boat right
on in at high tide, or even at low water, I've heard tell. Big
cruisers ain't of any use 'mong the shoals and ledges and lagoons.
Somehow the governments have been too busy 'bout other matters to build
and arm the right pattern o' gunboats. That there picaroon that we
sunk to-day was as large a craft as I ever heard o' their usin'.
Oftener, they go out in canoes and rowboats and sailboats, and make
surprises in light winds or calms, or in the night. All the shore
people are afraid to tell on 'em, and they're good friends with the
Caribs and the slaves. Of course, they've got to be all rooted out,
some day, but it's goin' to be a tough job, I tell ye."
Many more things he had to tell, as Guert questioned him. Before he
got through, it almost seemed as if all the nations of the world had
once been pirates, of one kind or another, each nation thinking it
right to capture ships of other nations on sight, if opportunity made
it safe to do so.
"I tell you what," said Guert, at last, "I want to read books! I never
had a chance at 'em. Rachel Tarns lent me a few, long ago, when we
were at home in New York, before the British came. The war drove us
out, you know, and we can't guess when we're to get back. I want to
read."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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