With Perry on Lake Erie : $b a tale of 1812Otis, James
History
With Perry on Lake Erie : $b a tale of 1812
Otis, James
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Juvenile fiction
“It isn’t likely a Britisher would venture here at this time, for there
has been nothing of importance to attract one. It is some person from
Presque Isle, who awaits an opportunity to set out across the lake, or
has just returned,” he said, now quite as excited as was I. “It is our
duty, Dicky Dobbins, to make of that fellow a prisoner, in order that
he may give reasonable excuse for behaving in such a fashion.”
“There is little chance of our doing that without weapons, for be he
spy or traitor, we can count on his making a good fight.”
“No better than is within our power, if we are so disposed,” Alec
replied stoutly. “I have no idea of losing such an opportunity as is
before us!”
Now I was quite as eager as he to learn who this man might be that he
should thus take so many precautions against being seen; but yet I
believed we had good reason to be cautious in our movements lest we
come to grief.
It was well that Alec Perry carried a stouter heart than mine,
otherwise much of disaster might have come upon our little fleet before
there had been an opportunity for Oliver Perry to show of what he was
capable.
“Will you follow me?” the dear lad whispered, and I replied, although
decidedly against my better judgment:--
“Ay, that I will, Alec, although I believe you are running into danger
needlessly. Why not wait until we can call others to help us, or at
least get weapons with which to defend our lives, for if that fellow
is either spy or traitor he will not yield without a fight.”
“It is two against one, and even cowards could ask for no better odds
than that!” Alec said sharply, and in another instant he was running at
full speed toward the clump of bushes in which was hidden the man we
would make prisoner.
There was no other course left me but to follow him, unless I was
willing to have it said I deserted a friend, and even while reproaching
myself for making such a foolhardy venture, I ran at my best pace close
at his heels.
As a matter of course the stranger saw us coming, and whether guilty or
innocent must have divined our purpose.
Perhaps the speed at which we advanced convinced him he could not
outstrip us in a chase, for instead of taking flight, he made every
effort to launch his boat before we should come up with him.
Had he succeeded in getting half a dozen yards from the shore we would
have been baffled, weaponless as we were, and the fellow probably
counted on this, but he had drawn the craft too high up on the sand.
She was less than ten feet from the water’s edge when Alec came within
striking distance, and now, instead of trying further to launch the
boat, he turned to defend himself.
With a stout oaken paddle uplifted he awaited my comrade’s approach,
and I cried aloud in surprise when I recognized in him one of our
neighbors who claimed to be violently loyal to the Government of the
United States.
“It’s Nathaniel Hubbard!” burst involuntarily from my lips, and as I
spoke his name he turned upon me in a fury.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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