Three days after the sinking of the Juno, the Mellish, which had escaped in the dark without pursuit from the fleet, after witnessing the successful termination of the action between the two sloops of war, was heading about northwest-by-west for Massachusetts Bay and Boston, with single reefs in her topsails and close hauled on the starboard tack. Seymour's orders had left him sufficient discretion as to his destination, but Boston being the nearest harbor held by the Americans, he had deemed it best to try to make that port rather than incur further risk of recapture by making the longer voyage to Philadelphia.
The weather had turned cloudy and cold; there was a decided touch of winter in the air. The men were muffled up in their pea-jackets, and the little squad of prisoners, tramping up and down, taking exercise and air under a strong guard, looked decidedly uncomfortable, not to say disgusted, with the situation.
It had been a matter of some difficulty to disarm the prisoners, especially the soldiers, and to feed and properly exercise them; but the end had been successfully arrived at through the prudence and ability of Seymour, who was well aided by Talbot and Wilton, and who profited much by many valuable suggestions born of the long experience of the old boatswain.
On this particular afternoon, about ten days before Christmas, the young captain, now confident of carrying his prize into the harbor, felt very much relieved and elated by his apparent command of the situation. He knew what a godsend the ship's cargo, which he and Talbot had ascertained to be even more valuable than had been represented, would be to the American army. It might be said without exaggeration, that the success of the great cause depended upon the fortune of that one little ship under his command. Talbot had properly classified and inventoried the cargo according to orders, and was prepared to make immediate distribution of it upon their arrival in port. Both of the young men were as happy as larks, and even the thought of their captured friends did not disquiet them as it might under less fortunate circumstances, for among the captives on the Mellish was a Colonel Seaton of the Highlanders, whom they trusted to be able to exchange for Colonel Wilton, and they did not doubt in that case that Katharine would return with her father.
While indulging themselves in these rosy dreams, natural to young men in the elation of spirit consequent upon the events of their short and exciting cruise,—the capture and successful escape of the transport, the apparent assurance of bringing her in, and the daring and brilliant night-action which they had witnessed,—they had neither of them ventured to touch upon the subject uppermost in each heart,—the love each bore for Katharine,—and the subject still remained a sealed book between them. The cruise was not yet over, however, and fate had in store for them several more exciting occurrences to be faced. Seymour, often accompanied by Talbot, and Wilton, always accompanied by Bentley, kept watch and watch on the brief cruise of the transport. On the afternoon of the third day, about three bells in the afternoon watch, or half after one o'clock, Seymour, whose watch below it was, was called from the cabin by old Bentley, who informed him that a suspicious sail had been seen hull down to the northeast, and Wilton had desired that his commanding officer be informed of it. Seizing a glass and springing to his feet, he hastened on deck.
"Well, Mr. Wilton," he said to that young officer, proud of his responsibilities, "you keep a good lookout. Where away is the sail reported?"
"Broad off the weather bow, sir, due north of us. You can't see her from the deck yet," replied Wilton, flushing with pride at the compliment.
Seymour sprang into the main rigging, and rapidly ascended to the crosstrees, glass in hand. There he speedily made out the topgallantsails of a large ship, having the wind on the quarter apparently, and slowly coming into view. He subjected her to a long and careful scrutiny, during which the heads of her topsails rose, confirming his first idea that she was a ship-of-war, and if so, without doubt, one of the enemy. She was coming down steadily; and if the two vessels continued on their present courses they would pass each other within gun-shot distance in a few hours, a thing not to be permitted under any circumstances, if it could be avoided. He continued his inspection a moment longer, and then closing the glass, descended to the deck with all speed by sliding down the back-stay.
"Forward, there!" he shouted. "Call the other watch, and be quick about it! Philip, step below and ask Mr. Talbot to come on deck at once. Bentley, that seems to be a frigate or a heavy sloop going free; she will be down on us in a few hours if we don't change our course. Take a look at her, man," he said, handing him the glass, "and let me know what you think of her."
While the men were coming on deck, Bentley leaped into the mizzen rigging and ran up the shrouds with an agility surprising in one of his gigantic figure and advanced age. After a rapid survey he came down swiftly. "It's an English frigate, and not a doubt of it, sir, and rising very fast."
"I thought so. Man the weather braces! Up with the helm! Bear a hand now, my hearties! Now, then, all together! Brace in!" He himself set a good example to the short crew, who hastened to obey his rapid commands, by assisting the two seamen stationed aft to brail in the spanker, in which labor he was speedily joined by Talbot, who had come on deck. Young Wilton and Bentley lent the same assistance forward, and in an astonishingly brief time, considering her small crew, the Mellish, like the stranger, was going free with the wind on her quarter, her best point of sailing, her course now making a wide obtuse angle with that of the app............