Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 March 1875 — AN UNWRITTEN EPISODE OF THE REVOLUTION. [ARTICLE]

AN UNWRITTEN EPISODE OF THE REVOLUTION.

Tha fall of 1T» wm ft hm on of peealiar gloom for th« newly-born Republic. Reverses everywhere, victories none. Hie British nrmy had been largelythnnflatced hy bodies of Hessian auxiiikries, nnd Its Generals pressed their advantage with great energy. Washington, at the Imnd of 4,000 men, had been disastrously fHMfui on Long Island and compelled to retreat, fighting his way, mile by mile, •moss the Delaware. The term of aerrioa for a large part of the Continental army, which was only one year, had expired, and there was no pay forthcoming. As dearly as the men loved their country they. bad wives and children dependent on them, *nd they must provide for the tender and helpless ones. Every town on the coast was liable to be sacked and plundered by the British men-of-war, for there was, as yet, no American fleet to defend the Atlantic shores. Congress, to be sure, had, in the spring, authorized the building of thirteen frigates, hut what were legislative enactments without money and ship-yards ? The cross of Bt. George soon threatened to fly triumphantly over every American city, and even the iroh soul of Washington was wrung with the most bitter discouragement, for the clouds were so black that hardly one ray of light sparkled from their depths. Among the regiments of the Massachusetts line which were broken up by expiration of term of enlistment that to which Abner Taft, of Marblehead, whs attached as Screeant had done splendid service, for they had fought heroically in every battle from the day of Bunker Hill till th ey were disbanded. Battle-scarred, ragged, shoeless and penniless they returned in small detachments, but still their hearts were tilled with joy in spite of the gloomy outlook of the "nation—for they were going back to the arms of their families, to kiss again the beloved lips from which they had long been parted. Sefgt. Taft and the other men of Marblehead would again join the patriot forces, (nit they would, before their return, gather in the crops of the earth and the still more generous bounty of the ocean-depths; for the harvest on Shore and the season of deep-sea fishing were alike close at hand. The sacred joy of that reunion with sweethearts, wives and children can be imagined. For a still mightier storm of war has, within a few years, left ihdelible scars and exquisite memories of the bliss ot return, which the survivors would not have missed even to have escaped the dangers which gave it sweetness. Abner Taft was a man remarkable even among his hardy and athletic townsmen for gigantic strength and courage, trails which still shine out in his descendants, from one of whom the writer heard the' remarkable exploit of his ancestor. Of marc than six feet in stature, and otherwise herculean proportion, he was feared and admired by those that knew him. Thouefe gentle and kindly in bis ordinary moods, his wrath was terrible when aroused by insult or injustice, and had somethingof that Berserker fierceness which gives such a strong coloring to the songs of the old Horse scalds and saga-men. He had been a leader among his fellows in the Grilous adventures of the deep and no is pressing dangers of the shore. His fair wife, but a few years married, Woljzed her hero, and her heart beat with terror at each parting, though in her, too, burned something of the fiery spirit which has ever animated the Marblehead women and gave occasion for Whittier to write his picturesque “Skippea: Ireson’s Ride.” She knew when he sailed away the king of the fishing-fleet, or marched to join the Continental armies, that her husband would be in the fore-front of ever}- danger. The soldier-fisherman cannot linger long in the sweet idleness of home and rest in the clinging arms of wife and babes. There is provision to be made for the long, hard winter, which would shut down on them for five dreary months, and the mackerel-catching fleet, is ready to start. Abner Taft’s fishingsmack is moored out in the bay, everything taut and ready for the two months of spoliation of the deep, and his two hardy comrades have completed their final preparations. Let us fancy the scene ol departure on a bright September morning, as the glad waves smile and laugh under the glint of the beams of the just-risen sun. The air is full of perfume —sweet clover, the dainty aftermath o‘ the upland meadows, the fragrant breath of kine, the delicate scent of sea weed, and fresh, wet sand. Martha Taft kisses her husband for the last time as he leaps from ti.e low jetty at the foot of the cliff ipto his yawl, followed by his men “ Thee must keep good heart , my lass,” he shouts, as the oars glisten in the sun; “ we'll coorn back again before thou’st all-the apples strung. It's not like goin’ off to fight the red-coats.” Martha thinks of other sadder partings, and smiles gayly in return as she waves her red handkerchief to the stalwart fisherman, whose huge figure looms up in sharp proportions, as he stands in his boat, against the levei rays of the sun, anxious to catch the last view of his wife. After all, it was only, as he said, a short absence, and there was no danger that a fisher's daughter, herself bred amid all the hardy associations of the sea. should dread. Had she herself not sailed away once to the mackerel-grounds, and time" after time been rocked on the bosom of the storm and the deep? Far from her thoughts was any such mischance as that which was to" inspire her husband to perform a deed one of the motet remarkable in the chrouicles of the time. It would be worth a special article to paint in words, with the same spirited and picturesque touch with which Norton mid De Hass pu\ similar scenes on canvas, life on board the fishing-fleet off the coast of Maine or Massachusetts. The same now as it was 100 years ago, we can easily fancy the scene, so realistic yet so poetic. But Abner Taft and his sturdy mates, though deeply and dumbly conscious of the beauty and terror of the ocean, as all men of the sea are, had other thoughts to absorb them. To perform their work speedily, to catch and pack their boatload of the finny food, which means comfort and content for those they loved, was the thing to be done that they might return and make matters snug at home for the cold weather. There were then no patriotic commissions that lavished money at home while stalwart men fought in the field, to give timely assistance to the families of absent - soldiers. So the fishermen worked on day after day and week after week, through fair weather and foul, till ' the “ catch” was completed. The night of its departure from the fishing-banks the little fleet was widely nattered by a storm. Abner Taft’s

smack was driven out to sea before the rale sad nearly suffered a wreck. The warring of the tempest was in his ears through the long, asrk hours, as he was hurried he knew not whither. When the morning broke on the wild waste of waters he knew that he must be far out at sea, for there was nothing in sight except, low down on the horizon, a large vessel which was hardly noticeable between the confused tumbling of the waters and the thick, dark sky. A ship at sea for the imperiled crew of a frail fishing-boat is now a welcome sight. To these three men of Marblehead it was a thing more portentous of evil than the cruelty of the ocean and the frowu of the skies. It could be nothing less than an armed vessel of the enemy, for the Colonies had but little merchant-marine and their ships of war were as yet standing peacefully in their primitive woods. To be captured had but one meaning—a lingering death by imprisonment in some dungeon-hulk, ‘or possibly to be impressed into a service whicn they bitterly abhorred—in any case a long if not final parting from all those they loved. There was still one chance—thgir little boat, lying low, might not be seen and the British war-vessel pass on. This hope was soon crushed as tne rapidly-en-larging ship came up with close-reefed sails before the stiff breeze into which the gale of the preceding night had subsided. Only a few minutes elapsed before a shot was fired and a hoarse voice, roaring through a speaking-trumpet, bade them come alongside. Abner Taft and his mates had fallen into the fate they so bitterly and justly dreaded. They were in the merciless clutches of the British. Instantly they had mounted the sides they were summoned to the quarter-deck and confronted with the English Captain, a heavy, dissipated-looking man, whose red face vied with the scarlet splendors of his uniform. Capt. Scott, command ing the sloop-of-war Tartar, a ship carrying sixteen guns and a nominal crew of 200 men, hiul an unenviable reputation even among his brother officers for brutality. The legend preserves some record of theinterview between the captor and his victims, as they stood before him with stern and surly looks, which they were either unwilling or unable to subdue into the semblance of submission. “Cursed rebel spawn, I’ll warrant!” said Capt. Scott; “ who are ye?” “ Fishers from Marblehead, driven to sea by the storm,” said Abner Taft, in slow, fulijones, and the peculiar accent which marked the speech ot his native town, so different from that of the rest of Ynnkee-lafid. The characteristic intonation struck the ear of the British Captain as he peered keenly and suspiciously in the faces of his victims. “ Englishman,” said he with an oath; ‘no cursed rebel Yankee ever talked like that. Pass the word forward for the bo’son; he’ll know ’em down to the very shire and village.” The bo’son, a weather-beaten old salt, with a villainous face, who had-been one of the most cruel and unscrupulous crimps in PTyniouth, and”was a sort of humble edition of his chief, came aft.

“ Ah, ha, bo’son, here’s a good, fat piece of work cut out for you and your mates with the eat,” roared the commander. “ Look at these cursed scoundrels, Englishmen, deserters from the colors of their King. They’d pass for Yankees; but I know the breed too well. Talk to ’em and let’s know what part of Old England they hail from.” “ Ay, ay, your honor; I know ’em by the very cut of the jib!” answered the petty officer, scrapiij|s,and pulling his topknot to his superior.^ The men of Marblehead saw the trap into which they had fallen, and obstinately refused to answer any further questions. Seeing nothing but death before them, they were going to die grimly and silently. “ Away with ’em to the gangway and trice ’em to-the grating!” shouted the English Captain, with a volley of oaths, infurated by the dogged disdain of the prisoners. “ Give ’em four dozen apiece, with a right good will, too, or you and your mates shall take their places. Tomorrow it will be a matter of the yardarm.” 4, The bo’son executed his mission with a cruel delight, and the crew were mustered to witness the savage torture, as the blood spurted om the naked backs from the strokes ot the terrible cat. The unfortunate men were taken below and put in irons, expecting next day to be executed on the pretext which had been so unexpectedly raised by their brutal captor. His comrades had winced under the fierce torment of the cat, but the blows had fallen on Abner Taft’s herculean shoulders as ou cold, impassive marble. Not a sound from his lips, nor a quiver in the flesh; only a cold, quiet look in the eye, full of some strange meaning. * The three fishermen owed their lives to the fact that the Tartar was at that time somewhat short-handed. She had taken several prizes, and crews under the command of petty officers had been detached for the captured vessels. Her ordinary complement of hands was thus cut down more than a third. Capt. Scott and his junior officers, in discussing the fate of the prisoners that night, concluded to postpone their purpose of execution. They could be used to advantage in working the ship for the present, and byand by they might be tried by courtmartial. So Taft and his two comrades were released from the calaboose, and assigned to duty, though strictly watched for some weeks. This sharp surveillance, however, gradually wore off in view of the apparent submission and good behavior of the men.

The British navy at that period was largely supplied with sailors through the I operations of crimping agents, who seized i and carried off men by armed force —a species of kidnaping' tacitly eounte- ; nanced by the Government. Naturally, I therefore, there were many sour and discontented spirits in the navy. Abner i Tatt was not long in discovering that | there were many mutinous and disaffected men on board. Cautiouslv he sounded them, and at last had fifteen men, whom lie’ believed he could : trust, pledged to stand by him. The ! Tartar, since the taking command by ! Capt. Scott, had become generally known as “Hell Afloat,” coni spirators seemed to feel that, in case of failure, execution was but little worse than life under such a brutal tyrant! Circumstances conjoined in favor of | the plot of these three stern and daring hearts of Marblehead, which was to be alike a piece of superb personal vengeance and a great patriotic service. Abner Taft, who conceived and organized the enterprise, had instructed" his helpers to secrete f'od about the decks, j and to hold themselvfes ready tp wait his signal. Accident, too, had placed "the eighteen conspirators in the same watch, and had it not been for this ijnere

chance it seems difficult to understand how such a plot could ever have been successful They had waited wearily for several weeks for an opportunity which should warrant them in striking the blow. Fate at last smiled on them. One gusty November night, Capt. Scott and his officers were indulging in a carouse of unusual extent. The crew had been severely tasked for several nights, as the weather had been severe and tempestuous, and slept deeply. No better time than this to consummate the project. One of the plotters stole forward and slipped into the hold, where-he lit a bundle of oakum which had been provided. The cry of Are was sounded on deck, and a portion of the watch above rushed below to extinguish the flames. Instantly Abner Taft and his seventeen co-conspirators sprang like tigers on the rest of the watch. Some were stabbed straight to the heart with long clasp-knives; some -were strangled with a fell, deadly grasp; some were hurled overboard into the seething foam. The gigantic Marbleheader flung three men over the rail as if they had been infants. No sounds were heard, so swfft and pitiless was the execution, except some terrible gasp or hiccough of a dying wretch. In a moment Taft and his followers were masters of the decks. Instantly the hatchways and cabin were closed, spiked fast and barricaded. The deck carronades, which were always kept loaded, were dragged into position so as to command all "avenues of egress for those confined below. While cannoneers stood by the pieces with lighted linstocks the rest of the mutineers proceeded to get the vessel about. Abner Taft jammed the helm hard up and lashed it fast while he ordered the men to let go the lee-braces and square the yards. The head of the gallant vessel paid off rapidly and soon she headed northwest. As the daring ringleader afterward said with an unseemly profanity, he yas bound either “ for hell or Boston harbor." In the meanwhile the crew below extinguished the fire after a hard fight, but found themselves imprisoned, while the mysterious noises on deck told tjiem of some remarkable event having transpired. At first Capt. Scott and his lieutenants, in the stupidity of their debauch, had failed to notice the strange events going on above them, but the noise of the hammers spiking the hatches, the rolling of the carronades and the flapping of the yards impressed at last their drunken senses w ith the alarming truth. With the instincts of discipline and obedience the crew, in their alarm and amazement, waited for orders from their superiors.

They had not long to wait. Capt. Scott, though a tyrant, lacked neither courage nor energy. With a torrent of fierce imprecations he ordered his men to cut their way out to the decks. While the axes were plied furiously a stern voice above w T as heard ringing out like a trumpet of doom: “Keep,doon below for your lives! There be six cannon-mouths guarding th’ hatches,” said Abner Taft. _ “Til cut every bit of flesh off your bones, you devils!” said the English Captain, foaming at the mouth with rage. Again, to his imprisoned men: “ Cut, cut for your lives!” The axes flew in the hands of the English and soon they had chopped the hatches in fragments. As they thronged up the carronades were discharged at close range and an awful silence followed, broken with low moans. The slaughter had been fearful. The hatchways were again closed and fastened. Three different attempts were made by the English crew to break forth, attended with similar results. In one of these Capt. Scott and his officers succeeded in escaping from the durance of the cabin and, stung into a reckless fury, charged with sword and pistol on the fierce band that held the decks.

Abner Taft met his chief persecutor, cutlass in hand, and a sharp, short combat was ended by a terrible stroke which beat down Capt. Scott’s guard and clove his head to the very <jaw. Those bloody stripes were at last avenged! The other officers shared a like fate, as they fought with a dogged courage that refused quarter. But why prolong the bloody and monotonous record, and describe the fruitless efforts of the English crew to recover the advantage? Suffice it that Destiny smiled, as she so often does on deeds of apparently hopeless daring, on the exploit of the Marblehead hero and his followers. The winds were fair and light, so that there, was not much difficulty in working the ship, and all things conspired to the hoped-for end. Abner Taft had laid the ship’s course as nearly as possible fsr Boston, and his fishing experiences had made him familiar with the Massachusetts waters. So at the end of the second day from the uprising the good townsmen of Boston were amazed and alarmed at seeing a British sloop-of-war come into the harbor, the hated ensign flying at the fore. There were bustlings and congregations of fearfhl faces. There was still deeper amazement, mingled with joy, when the union-jack was lowered and the American flag went to the fore in its stead, for the Marblehead men had improvised national colors from old bunting. There were bonfires, and ringing of bells, and almost frantic rejoicings over the hero of Marblehead,^and he and his two comrades were escorted to their native town by a great procession. He had fulfilled his promise to his beautiful wife Martha, to come home again before she had all the apples strung for the winter’s use. , The silent influence of this magnificent act might easily have had a most potent effect in stimulating the legislation which looked toward the foundingofour infant navy. There is, however, no record or allusion to it in the public annals The tradition says that Abner Taft afterward ’commanded a privateer, but his name is unknown except by those who have heard the oral legend. His after-career, however, must have been a daring and heroic one, and borne splendid if unrecognized fruit.— Appleton's Journal.

—And here is the first demonstration I may say it was ever in my power tp witness in cowology—a cow “coasting” down hill: The barn stood upon a hill, at the foot of which the cattle had been accustomed to go for drink. But last Monday morning the hill was covered with ice. and the boy placed a tub of water near the barn-door and let out the cow, supposing she would slake her thirst from that tub. The cow, however, 1 ' started off for her old place at the foot of the hill, and, finding herself slipping, she squatted upon her haunches, like "a dog, and bracing her feet., in front she slid a distance of t wenty feet to the bottom ; and, as she brought up of a sudden, she recovered her hind feet and looked around as if to see “what had happened.” —Boston Globe.