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
He had not done speaking, before the shrill whistle of a boatswain
rose gradually on the ears of the listeners, until the sense of hearing
became painfully oppressed by the piercing sounds that rang under
the arched roof of the hall, and penetrated even to the most distant
recesses of the abbey. A tremendous rush of men followed, who drove in
before them the terrified fragment of Borroughcliffe's command, that had
held the vestibule; and the outer room became filled with a dark mass of
human bodies.
“Let them hear ye, lads!” cried their leader; “the abbey is your own!”
The roaring of a tempest was not louder than the shout that burst from
his followers, who continued their cheers, peal on peal, until the very
roof of the edifice appeared to tremble with their vibrations. Numerous
dark and shaggy heads were seen moving around the passage; some cased
in the iron-bound caps of the frigate's boarders, and others glittering
with the brazen ornaments of her marine guard. The sight of the latter
did not fail to attract the eye of Manual, who rushed among the throng,
and soon reappeared, followed by a trusty band of his own men, who took
possession of the post held by the soldiers of Borroughcliffe, while the
dialogue was continued between the leaders of the adverse parties.
Thus far Colonel Howard had yielded to his guest, with a deep reverence
for the principles of military subordination, the functions of a
commander; but, now that affairs appeared to change so materially, he
took on himself the right to question these intruders into his dwelling.
“By what authority, sir,” the colonel demanded, “is it that you dare
thus to invade the castle of a subject of this realm? Do you come backed
by the commission of the lord lieutenant of the county, or has
your warrant the signature of his majesty's secretary for the home
department?”
“I bear no commission from any quarter,” returned the Pilot; “I rank
only an humble follower of the friends of America; and having led these
gentlemen into danger, I have thought it my duty to see them extricated.
They are now safe; and the right to command all that hear me rests with
Mr. Griffith, who is commissioned by the Continental Congress for such
service.”
When he had spoken, he fell back from the position he occupied in the
centre of the room, to one of its sides, where, leaning his body against
the wainscot, he stood a silent observer of what followed.
“It appears, then, that it is to you, degenerate son of a most worthy
father, that I must repeat my demand,” continued the veteran. “By what
right is my dwelling thus rudely assailed? and why is my quiet and the
peace of those I protect so daringly violated?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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