Commodore Barney's Young Spies A Boy's Story of the Burning of the City of Washington

Excerpt

CHAPTER I.

It is two years since what we called the "War of 1812" came to an end, and I, Amos Grout, once owner of the oyster pungy, Avenger, propose to set down here that which happened to my friend, Jeremiah Sackett, and myself, during the year of grace, 1814, when, so others have said, we did good work for our country, although at the time neither of us was more than fifteen years old.

This I do for two reasons, first because I am proud of what we two lads succeeded in doing, and hope that at some day, when, mayhap, both Jerry and I are dead, other boys may read of the part we played, and be encouraged thereby to work out their own plans for the good.

Secondly, because I would have it known that through a scheme of his, two boys, living on the shore of Chesapeake bay, succeeded in doing what experienced men might have failed at, and I am eager to have others realize my friend's worth.

So much for the reason as to why I, a seventeen-year boy, with none too many advantages in the way of book education, am thus attempting to write a tale for others, and now, that whoever should chance to read this may feel acquainted with us, it is for me to introduce my friend and myself in regular story-telling shape.

We lads lived in Benedict, Charles County, Maryland, near the mouth of Indian Creek, when the war broke out, and while many of the people of our town were not pleased with the idea of fighting the Britishers again simply to establish the rights of our American seamen, Jerry and I were hot in favor of it, for, in 1810, my friend's brother Tom was taken by the king's officers out of his vessel while she was off the capes, on the false ground that he was born in England. The poor fellow was forced to serve in the English navy three years, leading a dog's life, as can well be imagined, since he would never say that he was willing to serve his majesty to the best of his ability.

Therefore it was that when we invested our savings in a small sloop-rigged pungy, with the idea of making a living by fishing, we named her the Avenger, with never a thought that she might one day do something toward avenging poor Tom's wrongs.

Jerry's parents and mine were poor people, who could not afford to give their sons what so many fortunate lads have—a good education, fine clothes and money to spend. We were obliged to do all we could to aid our families, and had been wage-earners since our tenth birthday.

It would be too long a story if I should attempt to set down all that my friend and I did by way of gathering up money enough to pay Nicholas Trundy one hundred dollars for his pungy, which was then going on six years old. It was a big lot of money for two lads to save, after contributing to the support of their families, and we were near to four years doing it.

It was a proud day for us when the little vessel became our property, and we painted out the name "Handsome Susan," to put in its place in big red letters, "The Avenger."

She was about twenty-four feet long, with a cuddy in which were four small bunks, and had been in the oyster business since being launched, as we intended she should remain there.

We bought her early in the spring of 1812, when the people were talking strongly for or against war; but it never entered our minds that we might get mixed up in the fighting, for who could ever have dreamed that the Britishers would come to Benedict? It was enough to satisfy us that the oyster business was fairly good, and that we could often earn, with the pungy, as high as three dollars a day, not counting the time occupied in running up to Annapolis or Baltimore.

During the second year of the war we did not do as well; but there is no good reason why I should go into all the details of what would not be entertaining save to an oysterman....