HIGH HOCK. MOLL PITCHER THE FORTUNE-TELLER. ARRIVAL OF THE PRIZES. FANNY AND THE CAPTAIN OF THE DOLPHIN. A DECLARATION. AN INSULT. THE DEFENCE. THE FORTUNATE ESCAPE. ARRIVAL AT HOME. MEETING OF FRIENDS.

No American can or rather, should be, unacquainted with the principal events that induced the Parliament of great Britain in 1774, to lay those restrictions upon the port of Boston, which so destroyed her trade, and awoke the inhabitants of the Colonies to a true sense of their oppression. It is well known that the towns of Lynn, Salem, and Portsmouth, with a noble determination, refused to profit by the situation of their neighbors, the port of Boston being under actual blockade. For this reason as early as the date we have just named, and to the spring of the year 1776, when the British army evacuated Boston, it was a rare sight to see the canvass of any other vessel than such as wore the pennant of the King, whitening the waters of Massachusetts Bay. There was a virtual cessation of all branches of trade, and the prospects of the Bay Province, as that of Massachusetts was called, were of the most gloomy and foreboding character.

It was a clear cold morning in early spring, not but a few days subsequent to the evacuation of Boston by the minions of the King and Parliament, driven from their quarters by the guns of the Continentals planted on Dorchester Heights. The clear biting chill of our northern winter still lingered as if reluctant to give place to the more genial season that was soon to follow. The fishermen of the High Rock hamlet were impatiently awaiting the return of the season which would again call them into active service. The winter stock of provisions began to look dangerously small, and all things reminded the men that the time for them to renew their daring and venturesome trade was fast approaching. The nets were all mended, the lines renewed, and all their fishing tackle was well looked to. The boats hauled under temporary coverings erected upon the beach for that purpose, were all recaulked, and their seams well tarred, and secured against the element which was to bear them upon its breast—all and everything was ready for the opening season, which was soon to come.

As we have said, it was a clear cold morning, when a group of these fishermen, impatiently awaiting the approach of the time we have referred to, were seen ascending the steep acclivity of High Rock. Hardly had they gained its summit, before their gaze became riveted seaward, where they evidently saw some object of interest and surprise to them all.

‘What vessel is in the service of Congress,’ asked one of the fishermen, ‘that might be hereaway at this time? There are not so many in commission, as to permit them to take pleasure cruises along the coast.’

‘That’s true enough,’ said he who was addressed, ‘nor can I say what vessels these can possibly be. Can you make out the colors?’

‘The brig has the Continental flag,’ said the first speaker.

‘And her companions none at all,’ said the other.

‘The brig is an armed vessel, I should say.’

‘Yes, and so is the barque and ship, I should say,’ observed another, lowering a small spy glass from his eye.

‘It’s some gammon these British scamps are up to,’ said the first speaker. ‘But Washington has got possession of the town, and they won’t get it again in a hurry, that’s very certain.’

‘That brig has seen service,’ said he with the glass to his eye. ‘Her spars and rigging are a good deal cut up. I should rather guess that the two sails with her were prizes; she’s a sort of man-o-war look about her—eh? what do you think neighbors?’

‘Ay, ay, somewhat sarsy, with that rake to her masts to be sure,’ said one.

‘Guess you’re right—guess you’re right,’ said another.

Still the three vessels—a brig, a barque, and a ship—stood on for Boston harbor.—The sharp, cold air seemed to impart a deeper tinge of blue to the sea, upon which at this moment the sun shone brightly and warmly, as if awakening from his long winter’s sleep. The little group who had first got sight of the strange sails, were now joined by half the hamlet, all rife with curiosity at the sight before them.

Among the rest there stood a singular looking female. She was of the ordinary height, well formed, and quite handsome in features, and about twenty-six years of age. Her dress bespoke the singularity of her fancy, and until you saw the purity of her handsome face you might have supposed her an Indian maid but partially civilized; her costume being a singular combination of the Indian dress of America and the gipsy of Europe. There was a vacuum in her mild hazel eye, so to speak, a thoughtlessness, an indifference in her manner, that indicated a degree of mental abstraction.—Her brow was already partially wrinkled with care, and altogether she was a most singular object.

Her story is soon told. She was of humble but honorable birth, and being at the gentle age of fifteen, of unrivalled beauty both of form and face, an English officer of high rank, but a profligate at heart, saw her and was enamored of her beauty.

He poured the poison of oily eloquence into her young and unsuspecting ear; he gained her confidence and heart, ruined her, and then forsook her! From that hour she became another being, she wandered from her home, and at length resorted in her half deranged state to fortune-telling, and through her shrewdness and peculiarities gained an ample and sufficient livelihoood.

This was the far famed Moll Pitcher, the fortune-teller of Lynn!

Her little cottage was hard by, and impelled by the same spirit that had drawn so many others hither, she sought the summit of the lofty rock, and mingled with the rest. Many a Boston belle of more modern times has listened to her strange and, of times, truthful stories of the times of which we now write, or has heard with trembling her predictions of weal or woe. The mariners more particularly, for many miles along the coast, paid willing tribute to the witch of Lynn, believing in their simplicity that in her good will they bought for themselves security and safety from the perils and dangers of the sea. During the siege of Boston, Moll Pitcher was of essential service on several occasions in obtaining information concerning the operations of the enemy, their purposes and plans, and then communicating it to Washington. To be sure, she was well paid in gold for the information thus obtained by personal hazard—but General Washington was often heard to say Moll would’nt work for British gold, though she did not refuse the pay of the Colonists in the secret service she rendered the American army. The after history and life of this singular woman are too well known among us to require farther comment.

‘Moll,’ said one of the group, familiarly to her, ‘who are these strangers yonder in the vessels?’

‘Time will show!’ was the reply.

‘Ay, who doubts that?’

‘None, that I know of,’ was the vacant reply of the reputed witch.

‘But can’t you tell us, Moll, by your art who they really are? wether friends or enemies, rogues or honest men?’

‘Give me gold and I’ll try!’ was the reply.

‘No, no, Moll, we did but ask thee a friendly question, as a friend, and not in the way of thy trade.’

‘And as a friend I answered.’

‘Come, come, Moll, thou art dumpish to-day. Give us thy opinion now, and I will promise thee the first mess of fresh fish; there’s pay for thee; wilt speak now, woman?’

‘That brig lay in Boston harbor a couple of months gone by,’ said an old fisherman to the rest, ‘I know her by the rig.’

‘How’s that, neighbor?’ put in in one hard by; ‘a brig’s a brig, and to tell one from another at this distance, would require better eyes than either thine or mine.’

‘Aye but see you not that short mainmast, compared with the fore? She was just so when I noted her in Boston harbor, the day we pulled round there, neighbor Campbell.’

‘That’s all very true, no doubt,’ continued the questioner; ‘but what is she doing here if that’s the case? She must have been a British brig then, and now she hoists the flag of the colonies.’

‘Tis odd to be sure,’ said the other.

The three vessels that had so excited the curiosity of the people on the rock, came on with a fair wind and flowing sheets towards the Graves, as Boston lower light was then designated, and being the entrance to the outer harbor.

Suddenly all three, as if actuated by instinct or guided by one hand, tacked boldly to the North, and stood in towards the peninsula of Nahaut. This was the cause of still more surprise to those who were watching them from the rock.

But a short half hour elapsed before the three vessels rounded the rocky shore of the iron-bound peninsula, and shortly came to anchor in the little harbor of Lynn, within a cable’s length of the shore. The sails were furled, the usual routine of duty performed, and every rope placed in its proper place. The stems swung gracefully towards the shore, with the incoming tide, and there lay the Constance and her two prizes, safe in port. The purpose of the voyage was consummated at least in the release of the prisoners; but there was one whose liberty had been sacrificed as the cost.

The shores were soon crowded by the inquisitive inhabitants, who seeing no demonstrations of hostility, ventured boldly down to the shore, to ascertain what errand could possibly have brought the strangers into their quiet little basin for anchorage. Great was the astonishment of the good people to behold landing from the first boat William Lovell, the long absent prisoner, and whom they had all given up as lost to them for ever. He was always a favorite among them, and now as he landed, the air was rent with cheers of welcome. Warm and sincere were the congratulations of those weather-beaten seamen and fishermen. Not a hand that grasped William Lovell’s then, but would have gone far and willingly to have done him a service.

Let us now on board the Dolphin, and see how fares our heroine.

Burnet soon returned to his cabin, and entered into conversation with Fanny relative to her strange and almost unaccountable adventures. Fanny blushed through all the stain upon her face, to have Captain Burnet behold her in her male attire, for he said, as Lovell had done, that he never saw her look more interesting. Neither could hardly realize the fact of their former situation as friends, and their present relation to each other. It seemed like a dream, too wild and visionary to be true.

‘And were all thy questions and study on the evening that you told me of Lovell’s imprisonment in anticipation of all this?’

‘I thought it was singular that you should be so minute relative to those questions of navigation, and the course to steer for Cuba, with so many other questions.’

‘I proposed to myself at that time to do that which I have since accomplished, as far as taking the brig and releasing William is concerned.’

‘Thou art a most singular girl, Fanny.’

‘You have often told me so before now,’ she answered.

‘But I have never told thee how much I loved thee,’ said Burnet, with animation. ‘Thou hast proved thyself equal to any emergency. Why, Fanny, your story is a romance; no fairy tale could exceed it in extravagance, and yet it’s all true. You have liberated Lovell, let that content you. Now, Fanny Campbell, will you become my wife?’

‘Is this generous, Mr. Burnet? Am I not your prisoner?’

‘Nay, Fanny, I am thy prisoner; for in thy keeping rests my future happiness.’

Burnet, who had at first sought Fanny as a mere toy, as something that pleased his fancy, now really loved her, and would joyfully have made her his lawful wife. His standing and rank, with the large property he possessed, would entitle him to an alliance far above the sphere in which Fanny moved and was born; but the admiration of her heroism, and his former knowledge of her character, together with her beauty of person, had decided him, and he would gladly have laid all at her feet.

‘Mr. Burnet,’ said Fanny, ‘I have respected you, nay, have felt a sincere regard for you, but I can never love you as a wife should do. I have much, very much, to thank you for; you have acted very nobly towards me, having given me the advantage of your extensive information, have humored my every fancy, and have been more than a brother to me. You are high born, hold a captain’s commission from the King and are rich, honored and honorable; such a man deserves to be united to a woman who shall be entirely devoted to him, who can give him her undivided and whole love. Mr. Burnet, I am not that woman!’

‘Thou art an angel, nevertheless,’ murmured the captain, as he sank upon a chair, and hiding his face in his hands, he wept like a child.

‘Rouse, thee, Burnet,’ said Fanny, ‘the path of fame and glory are open before you. You have rank, opportunity, every necessary possession whereby to lead thee on to honor and distinction. Fanny’s prayers shall ever be raised for thee.’

He took her willing hand, and pressed it to his lips, saying:

‘Oh! each word you utter but shows me the more clearly what I have lost. Yes, you speak truly,’ said he, brushing a tear from his eye, ‘fame must be my future mistress; I can love no other.’

At this moment a light knock at the cabin door was heard, and the lieutenant of the Dolphin announced, as he had been instructed to do by the captain, that they were just passing into Boston harbor. The captain appearing on deck soon discovered that the King’s fleet had sailed, and that the American flag floated from the town. Observing this, he came to the very correct conclusion that the English army had evacuated the town during his cruise off the coast. The Dolphin was brought to anchor in the outer harbor, and the crew busied in refitting the vessel to enable her to follow the fleet, and also to await the coming up of the prize they had left to follow them. Burnet little thought of the possibility of her escape or recapture. A few hours serving to refit, Burnet determined to wait no longer for the prize, but to stand out to see and meet her.

Just as he had made up his mind to this purpose, the surgeon’s report was handed to him. He was prepared for a great loss as to the number of his crew, but not for so large a sacrifice as he now saw had been made; he looked into the matter personally and was exercised with not a little fear for his own reputation in being thus severely handled by an half-dozen men, commanded by a female. His feelings were still more harrowed by the examination that he then made into the state of the vessel under his charge.

As he passed among the wounded men, and heard their sighs and groans, his feelings were moved, and his mind excited beyond what he had experienced at any time, during, or since the commencement of the fight with the Constance. Burnet was somewhat nervous and excitable in his disposition, and he was now completely under the control of these influences. He scanned the horizon in the direction whence the prize was expected, and which should long since have made her appearance—but in vain; she was not to be seen, and though he felt somewhat uneasy about her, yet it never entered into his head that she might be retaken, the principal ground of his fears on the point, was, that he might possibly miss her in the night, and that if she should, unconscious of her danger, anchor in the harbor of Boston, why, she must inevitably fall again into the hands of the Colonists, and he would not have even a stick of timber to show for the fearful number of men he had lost in the late contest with the prize.

He did not dare to keep his present anchorage, for it was already evident that he was noticed, and a boat attack might be expected from the shore during the night, if he should attempt to wait for the arrival of his prize. He saw with his glass that preparations were already making for such a purpose, and he therefore resolved, as we have said, to sail, and if possible to meet the Constance, or perhaps lie-to off the harbor at a safe distance, until morning. Everything seemed to perplex and annoy him, and he was, indeed, hardly himself.

The night was dark, and settled coldly about the Dolphin. The lamp had been lit by a servant, in the cabin, and Fanny sat perusing a book that she had found upon the table, when Burnet entered. He looked like another being from him who had left her but a short time before. His disappointment at finding the city in the hands of the Colonists, his own prize not arriving, the surgeon’s report of the weak and disabled state of the crew, the disappointment of his affections, had all tended to bring on a morose and hardened state of feelings that showed, themselves at once in his countenance and manner.

‘Fanny,’ he said, approaching her familiarly, ‘I cannot part with you without some token of your kindness.’

‘Mr. Burnet,’ said Fanny, gazing upon him with astonishment.

‘Come, sit thee here,’ said he, drawing her familiarly towards a couch placed on one side of the cabin.

Fanny looked with the utmost astonishment upon him. She saw the cool deliberate villany of his face; she read, and translated aright the look of his eyes, and saw at once what her fate might be.

‘Mr. Burnet, release me,’ she said, struggling to free herself from the arm that encircled her waist. ‘I could not have dreamed this of one whom I have so much respected; nay, regarded like a brother.’

‘I tell thee, Fanny, I must have thy favor,’ said Burnet, still drawing her close to him.

‘Burnet,’ said Fanny, ‘I beg of you to release me.’

‘By Heaven, I cannot,’ said Burnet, passionately.

‘Remember,’ said Fanny, still struggling with him, ‘remember I am your prisoner—completely in your power. Nay, then,’ she continued, ‘though I am a woman, I am not a defenceless one!’

Exerting her whole strength, she sprang from him and reached the farther part of the cabin.

‘Keep thy distance,’ said Fanny, afraid to give any alarm lest she should expose herself to the crew of the Dolphin, and looking in every direction for escape; at length her eye brightened, as some thought seemed to strike her.

‘I bid thee fairly to keep thy distance,’ said Fanny, as he again approached her. ‘For I am able, and will defend myself!’

But Burnet again seized her, and endeavored to confine her hands. In the same instant her right arm was raised above her head, and descended quickly to the breast of Burnet, who immediately staggered back and fell upon the couch. Fanny gazed a moment upon him, locked the door of the cabin, then returning to the windows that looked out upon the sea, she climbed through one of them, and dropped herself silently into a boat that was attached to the stern, and cutting it loose, she quietly plied the oars. The tide fortunately favored her, and she was swiftly sailing towards the town, which she soon reached in safety.

Burnet’s wound was a severe one, and had nearly proved fatal; for Fanny’s dagger was sharp and pierced deep. His vessel sailed immediately for the New York rendezvous, where the rest of the fleet lay. Here he experienced a dangerous fever from his wound. But often did he thank Heaven in secret that himself, not Fanny had suffered. He deeply regretted the headlong spirit which had actuated him, and prompted the conduct he had displayed; it was deep and bitter disappointment. Now, as he recovered, he deeply regretted his conduct, and wrote to Fanny Campbell, stating this, and asking for her forgiveness. He told her too, that he should still love her as he had ever done since they first met.

We have said that Fanny was borne swiftly towards the town, when she left the Dolphin, and that she arrived safely there. She reached the shore, and seeking a conveyance, started for her home. That night she met friends, parents, lover, and all. There never was a happier meeting, you may believe us.

‘Did I not tell thee, wife,’ said the father, ‘that I had great confidence in Fanny, and that I would trust her where I would not older heads?’

‘Yes, and here is as good a plot for a novel as the Bay Province ever afforded, even in the times of the Indians or the French war.’

‘True, true; how blessed we are, to be sure; and to think that the girl should have dressed in man’s clothes, and deceived them all; even William himself for some time, and that was odd, though they had not seen each other for so long a time. Now if we had read that in a novel, we should have said that the author was telling a very improbable story; but here it is all true, and there is no getting away from it.’

‘Oh, she’s a wonderful girl, our Fanny; and William says all the crew loved her just like that Irishman in the other room, and he will have it that she is a saint, and no man at all. He doesn’t know of her disguise, and don’t suspect it either.’ Terrence Moony lay upon a comfortable bed in an adjoining room, not yet having recovered from a severe splinter wound, received in the last action on board the Constance; but he was in good hands, and fast recovering. To use his own words, it was worth while to git a sliver into his thigh once a year at laste, to git along so comfortably, and to be treated so kindly.’ The prisoners confined on board the vessels were conducted to Boston, and delivered up to the Commander-in-chief as prisoners of war. With them, William Lovell as the agent of Fanny, or as he was obliged to represent it at head-quarters, of Captain Channing, also delivered up a large amount of arms and ammunition, which had been taken from the enemy for the use enemy, and as a gift. A sufficient armament and ammunition was, however, retained to fit the brig for the purpose of a privateer, for it was his intent thus to appropriate her after obtaining letters of marque from Congress.

Some fears were entertained by Fanny and her family, touching the captures she had made, inasmuch as, strictly speaking, she had laid herself liable to the charge of piracy, and Fanny, in the eyes of the law, was actually a Female Pirate Captain. But there were none to prosecute such a charge, and if there had been, Captain Campbell could nowhere be found, for only her family knew the secret.

We have said that the prisoners were conducted to Boston. We should have excepted the mate of the second prize—the pardoned Englishman, who was admitted as a member of the Campbell family until a favorable opportunity should offer to ship for his home.

Terence Moony’s surprise at not being able to find his much loved captain after his recovery, was unbounded; but he accounted for the whole affair in his usual style, and which also proved perfectly satisfactory, at least to himself.

‘I always said the captain was a holy spirit,’ said Terrence, ‘so he was, and no man, after all. Sure hadn’t he done the job he came for, and what’s the use of his staying any longer? Though he might have jist given me a grip of the hand, and said good-bye to ye, Terrence Moony, my boy. Yes, it’s all clear to my mind that he came straight from hiven to help me to bury the old woman, and to liberate the Americans.’

‘He was quite a gentlemanly spirit, Terence, wasn’t he?’ asked the Englishman to whom the above was addressed, and who had learned the secret by accident with regard to Fanny, but was bound by an oath to secrecy.

‘Look here, friend,’ said Terrence, clapping him on the shoulder, and looking round slyly to see if he was overheard by any one else, ‘I believe that spirit has gone into Mr. Lovell’s wife, for she’s so beautiful that it does my eyes good to look at her, and it so reminds me too, of the kindness and everything else about Captain Channing, as he was called, that divil take me if I didn’t find myself crying one day, when she was giving me gruel, when I was sick of this little scratch on the hip, and laying in that little chamber yonder.’

‘It was a pretty severe wound, Terence, and you bore it like a man, and no mistake,’ said his friend, the Englishman. ‘I have seen older men flinch under smaller ones and far less painful.’

‘Thank ye, though it was your friends that give it to me,’ said the Irishman. ‘Twas a pretty good job all round for us, aich man got two hundred dollars prize-money, saying nothing of the presents. To-morrow we all iv us ship again in the brig with a dozen to back us. Mrs. Lovell is going to stay with her husband, and I go as a sort of quarter-master, you know. Sure there can’t any harm come to the brig while that swate lady of the Captain’s aboord.’

‘I should hope not,’ said the Englishman, turning away thoughtfully.

‘Oh, there’s no hope aboot it, it’s sure,’ said Terrence.

We may state here that the Englishman reached his home and family within the twelve months.

Thus it was, and the good brig Constance, now the ‘Fanny,’ (so had Lovell named her in honor of his wife,) was refitted and fully manned, and Lovell was her captain. Fanny, by her own solicitations, was permitted to accompany him, and she was not only his companion, but counsellor also, in many a hard-fought contest. The Fanny took several valuable prizes, and fortunately escaped herself without any serious damage. Thus at the time of the declaration of peace, the value of the prizes taken, and the money judiciously invested, afforded a handsome competency, upon which Lovell and his noble wife retired for a while to enjoy the sweets of domestic happiness.