Canada -- History -- To 1763 (New France) -- Fiction; United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Fiction
I had brave fellows with me, and if we got our will it would be
a thing worth remembrance. So I disclosed my plan to Mr. Stevens
and the others, and, as I looked for, they had a fine relish for
the enterprise. I agreed upon a signal with them, bade them to
lie close along the ground, picked out the nearer (which was
the smaller) ship for my purpose, and at sunset, tying a white
handkerchief to a stick, came marching out of the woods, upon the
shore, firing a gun at the same time. Presently a boat was put out
from the sloop, and two men and a boy came rowing towards me.
Standing off a little distance from the shore, they asked what
was wanted.
"The King's errand," was my reply in French, and I must be
carried down the river by them, for which I would pay generously.
Then, with idle gesture, I said that if they wished some drink,
there was a bottle of rum near my fire, above me, to which they
were welcome; also some game, which they might take as a gift to
their captain and his crew.
This drew them like a magnet, and, as I lit my pipe, their boat
scraped the sand, and, getting out, they hauled her up and came
towards me. I met them, and, pointing towards my fire, as it might
appear, led them up behind the rocks, when, at a sign, my men
sprang up, the fellows were seized, and were forbidden to cry out
on peril of their lives. I compelled them to tell what hands and
what arms were left on board. The sloop from which they came, and
the schooner, its consort, were bound for Gaspe, to bring provisions
for several hundred Indians assembled at Miramichi and Aristiguish,
who were to go by these same vessels to re-enforce the garrison of
Quebec.
The sloop, they said, had six guns and a crew of twenty men; but
the schooner, which was much larger, had no arms save muskets,
and a crew and guard of thirty men.
In this country there is no twilight, and with sunset came instantly
the dusk. Already silence and dark inclosed the sloop. I had the men
bound to a tree, and gagged also, engaging to return and bring them
away safe and unhurt when our task was over. I chose for pilot the
boy, and presently, with great care, launching our patched shallop
from the stocks--for the ship-boat was too small to carry six
safely--we got quietly away. Rowing with silent stroke, we came
alongside the sloop. No light burned save that in the binnacle, and
all hands, except the watch, were below at supper and at cards.
I could see the watch forward as we dropped silently alongside
the stern. My object was to catch this fellow as he came by. This
I would trust to no one but myself; for now, grown stronger, I
had the old spring in my blood, and I had also a good wish that
my plans should not go wrong through the bungling of others. I
motioned my men to sit silent, and then, when the fellow's back was
toward me, coming softly up the side, I slid over quietly, and drew
into the shadow of a boat that hung near.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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