She was anchored in the river, with the rest of the
fleet, and we went down upon a wharf to make a signal for a boat. On the
way we saw a woman crying before a watch-maker's shop, and a party of
Forsyth's close by. On enquiry, we learned these fellows had threatened to
rob her shop. We had been such defenders of the sex, that we could not
think of deserting this woman, and we swore we would stand by her, too. We
should have had a skirmish here, I do believe, had not one or two rifle
officers hove in sight, when the whole party made sail from us. We turned
the woman over to these gentlemen, who said, "ay, there are some of our
vagabonds, again." One of them said it would be better to call in their
parties, and before we reached the water we heard the bugle sounding
the recall.
They had given us up on board the schooner. A report of some Indians being
out had reached her, and we three were set down as scalped. Thank God,
I've got all the hair on my head yet, and battered as my old hulk has got
to be, and shattered as are my timbers, it is as black as a raven's wing
at this moment. This, my old shipmate, who is logging this yarn, says he
thinks is a proof my mother was a French Canadian, though such is not the
fact, as it has been told to me.
Those riflemen were regular scamps. Just before we went down to the wharf,
we saw one walking sentinel before the door of a sort of barracks.
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