The Pilot: A Tale of the SeaCooper, James Fenimore
History
The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea
Cooper, James Fenimore
Historical fiction; Sea stories; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Naval operations -- Fiction; War stories
In the mean time the Englishman played a manful game.
He had suffered a heavy loss by the distant cannonade, which no metal he
possessed could retort upon his enemy; but he struggled nobly to repair
the error in judgment with which he had begun the contest. The two
vessels gradually drew nigher to each other, until they both entered
into the common cloud created by their fire, which thickened and spread
around them in such a manner as to conceal their dark hulls from the
gaze of the curious and interested spectators on the cliffs. The heavy
reports of the cannon were now mingled with the rattling of muskets
and pistols, and streaks of fire might be seen glancing like flashes of
lightning through the white cloud which enshrouded the combatants;
and many minutes of painful uncertainty followed, before the deeply
interested soldiers, who were gazing at the scene, discovered on whose
banners victory had alighted.
We shall follow the combatants into their misty wreath, and display to
the reader the events as they occurred.
The fire of the Ariel was much the most quick and deadly, both because
she had suffered less, and her men were less exhausted; and the cutter
stood desperately on to decide the combat, after grappling, hand to
hand. Barnstable anticipated her intention and well understood her
commander's reason for adopting this course; but he was not a man to
calculate coolly his advantages, when pride and daring invited him to a
more severe trial. Accordingly, he met the enemy half-way, and, as the
vessels rushed together, the stern of the schooner was secured to the
bows of the cutter, by the joint efforts of both parties. The voice
of the English commander was now plainly to be heard, in the uproar,
calling to his men to follow him.
“Away there, boarders! repel boarders on the starboard quarter!” shouted
Barnstable, through his trumpet.
This was the last order that the gallant young sailor gave with this
instrument; for, as he spoke, he cast it from him, and, seizing his
sabre, flew to the spot where the enemy was about to make his most
desperate effort. The shouts, execrations, and tauntings of the
combatants, now succeeded to the roar of the cannon, which could be
used no longer with effect, though the fight was still maintained with
spirited discharges of the small-arms.
“Sweep him from his decks!” cried the English commander, as he appeared
on his own bulwarks, surrounded by a dozen of his bravest men; “drive
the rebellious dogs into the sea!”
“Away there, marines!” retorted Barnstable, firing his pistol at the
advancing enemy; “leave not a man of them to sup his grog again.”
The tremendous and close volley that succeeded this order nearly
accomplished the command of Barnstable to the letter, and the commander
of the Alacrity, perceiving that he stood alone, reluctantly fell back
on the deck of his own vessel, in order to bring on his men once more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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