Part 65

No answer came but the dip of the oars in unison.

"Who goes there? Answer, or I fire!"

Again the slow beat of the oars and nothing more.

Crash!

A musket spoke from the jutting bow in front of the sloop and a bullet struck in the foremast of the staunch attacker, with a resounding z-i-n-n-g!

"We're discovered," whispered Talbot. "Pull for your lives, men, and punch her like a battering-ram. When we've cut through the netting, let every fellow dash upon her decks, and fight for every inch you can."

As he ceased speaking, the bow of the sloop struck the roping stretched around the man-o'-warsman, and a ripping and tearing was plainly heard above the crash of small arms, the shouts of men, and the rumble of hawsers. Two cannon spoke from the side of the Englishman, and, as their roar echoed across the still ocean, the guns of the Jasamine belched forth their answer.

The anchor attached to the bowsprit had done what was desired. It tore a great hole in the stout netting, ripped open a breach sufficiently wide for entrance to the deck, and, as the cannon grumbled and spat at the sloop,--the bowsprit was black with jack-tars scrambling for an opportunity to board the Britisher.

"Now, men," shouted Major Talbot, above the din. "Swing our craft sideways! Let go the port guns, and then let every mother's son rush the foe! And your cry must be, 'Death and no quarter!'"

As he ceased, the good Jasamine was forced sideways into the man-o'-warsman, and, propelled by the current, drifted against her with tremendous force, crushing the remaining nets as she did so. A few of the Americans were already on the deck in a terrific struggle with the half-sleepy English seamen, but--in a moment--Talbot, himself, at the head of his entire crew, came leaping across the side.

Now was a scene of carnage. The cutlasses of both Yankee tar and British, were doing awful execution, and pistols were cracking like hail upon the roof. Back, back, went the English before the vigorous assault of the stormers, and, as the deck was now piled with the dead and dying, the commander of the man-o'-warsman cried out,

"I surrender! Cease, you Yankee sea-dogs. You're too smart for me!"

So saying, he held up a handkerchief tied to his cutlass, and the battle ceased.

The story of the fight of Silas Talbot's was now on every lip, and all praised the daring and courage of this valorous Major, who was as bold as a lion, and as courageous as any seaman who sailed upon the sea.

Promotion came rapidly to the soldier-sailor. In 1779 he became a colonel and was placed in command of the Argo, a sloop of about one hundred tons, armed with twelve six-pounders, and carrying but sixty men. 'Tis said that she looked like a "clumsy Albany trader," with one great, rakish mast, an immense mainsail, and a lean boom. Her tiller was very lengthy, she had high bulwarks and a wide stern--but, in spite of her raw appearance, she could sail fast and could show a clean pair of heels to most vessels of twice her size.

Shortly after taking charge of this privateer, word was brought that Captain Hazard of the privateer King George was off the coast of Rhode Island.

"That's what I want," cried Captain Talbot, slapping his knee. "This fellow Hazard is an American. He was born in Rhode Island, and, instead of joining in our righteous cause against the Mother Country, he has elected to fight against us. For the base purpose of plundering his old neighbors and friends, he has fitted out the King George and has already done great damage on the coast. Let me but catch the old fox and I'll give him a taste of American lead. I'll put a stop to the depredations of this renegade."

The King George had fourteen guns and eighty men, but this did not worry staunch and nervy Silas Talbot. He started in pursuit of her, as soon as he learned of her whereabouts, and, before many days, sighted a sail just off the New York coast, which was hoped to be the vessel of the renegade.

Mile after mile was passed. Hour by hour the Argo ploughed after the silvery sails, until, late in the afternoon, the stranger hovered near a shallow harbor on the coast, and seemed to await the on-coming privateer with full confidence.

The Argo boomed along under a spanking sou'wester and, sailing near the stranger, to the keen eyes of Talbot came the welcome sight of King George painted upon the stern of the rakish privateer.

"All hands man the guns," cried he. "We'll sink th' rascally Hazard with all his crew, unless he strikes. She's got more men and guns, but what care we for that. Take hold, my Hearties, and we'll soon make her know her master."

The King George seemed to welcome the coming fight; she luffed; lay to; and her men could be seen standing ready at the polished cannon. Now was one of the strangest battles of American sea history.

The King George cruised along under a full spread of canvas, jibbed, came about upon the port quarter of the stranger, and ran up to within shooting distance, when a broadside was poured into the deck of the rolling Argo. She replied with her own fourteen guns, and, before they could be reloaded, the King George struck her alongside; the American seaman swarmed across the rail; and--if we are to believe a historian of the period--"drove the crew of King George from their quarters, taking possession of her, without a man on either side being killed." Hats off to the doughty Silas Talbot for this brave adventure! Did you ever hear of such a fight with no man ever being slaughtered?

Again rang the fame of Silas Talbot, but he was not to rest long upon laurels won. The British privateer Dragon--of three hundred tons and eighty men--was hovering near Providence, Rhode Island, hungry and eager for unprotected merchantmen.

"I'll have to strike her," said Captain Talbot.

It was a beautiful day in June. As the Dragon drowsed along listlessly a dozen miles off the shore, her topsails barely filling in the gentle southerly breeze, the watch suddenly stirred, and sang out in no gentle tones,

"Sail ho, off the starboard! Looks like Captain Talbot of the Argo!"

The captain came bounding from his cabin, glass in hand.