Palisadian., 1920-07-31

late afternoon of a winters
day, during the American Rev
olution, q rakish schooner and a
majestic frigate anchored we'll inside
little bay on the northeastern coast Of
England. A whaleboat drove shore
ward, a young officer scrambled up
the steep cliffs and few minutes later
a mysterious stranger was transferred
to the frigate's deck. He answered to
the name Of "Mr. Gray" and was said
to be merely pilot, but he was greet
ed with surprising difference.
For no ordinary man would these
vessels have ventured so near that
coast Of sandbars and hidden rocks.
The wind was mere ruffle Of air. But
the incessant mutter Of the long, slow
waves foretold that storm was
brewing. Ever more fitfully and faint
ly blew the land-breeze; the mutter Of
the waters grew deeper. Only here and
there did few stars twinkle between
the fast gathering clouds. It was time
to beat out to open sea, If it were not
even now too late. Men swarmed aloft
and hung up the yards; sails f1uttered
out; the anchor was pulled in; the
frigate gathered headway. Then the
faint breeze died. The spread of can
vas hung useless; the currents drove
the ship shoreward.
With roar the wind came suddenly
from the east. White spray dashed
from the bow. Yet the Pilot paced the
quarterback seemingly oblivious to
danger. But open water was far
ahead and suddenly from the forecas-
tie came that dreaded cry, Breakers
breakers. dead ahead" The Pilot
shook off his trance Of thought. His
orders thundered forth, sailors sprang
hither and thither at his bidding. the
frigate swung about at his cry of
"Hold on everythingvs Tortuously she
picked her way through the twisting
channels. in darkness amid the howl
ings Of the great winds.
She shivered from bow to stern as
a hundred men loosed the huge main
sail. The jib was torn free with
crash like cannon's blast, but the big
sail held and the frigate bowed like
reed IL the wind. White foam showed
dimly upon both sides, but the Pilot
kept the ship. as by miracle, within
q narrow ribbon of dark water. He
took the wheel himself. Time and
again the frigate seemed to have
reeled free from peril; time and again
she plunged anew toward a welter of
white water. But she drove ever on
and at last she rode the great waves
Of the open sea.
Not the storm alone had these ships
dared. They were American vessels,
lurking about an enemy's coast. This
little bay had a peculiar fascination
for two young lieutenants aboard, Ed
ward Griffith and Richard Barnstable.
Not far inland lived Colonel Howard,
a Tory who had fled from America
when the colonists revolted. With him
dwelt his niece, Cecilia Howard, be-
loved by Griffith, and his ward, Kath-
eIS&e Plowden, betrothed to Barnsta-
bic. In st. Ruth's abbey fingered, too,
Christopher Dillon, a poor kinsman
anxious to better his condition by we'd
ding the wealthy Cecilia. Redcoats
lent picturesqueness to the venerable
abbey, for a small garrison under
Captain Borroughcliffe had been sum-
moned by the owner. For aught that
men knew, John Paul Jones himself
might be aboard these ships lowering
nearby.
While reconnoitering the next night,
''Mr. Gray" and Griffith were captured,
but Borroughcliffe's drunkenness ena-
bled them to escape. Griffith was, how
ever, retaken.
The impetuous Barnstable, fretting
effshore with his enormous coxswain,
Long Tom Coffin, had been nearly cut
of from his schooner by an English
cutter. but he scrambled aboard safely
ind the drum beat to quarters. While