Finding that we could accomplish nothing, and that the interests of the prisoners, when released, would be looked after by the American consul at Plymouth, Haines and I, having been liberated from our paroles, embraced the opportunity of coming home on a brig that was leaving Plymouth for New York. Before leaving, we told the consul where the dunnage-bags of the Marguerite's crew could be found, and put him into communication with Joe Waghorn, of The Blue Anchor. The day before we sailed we had the good fortune to meet our old friend and captor, Captain Woods, who had been appointed into the Royal Navy; and, if I may use Haines's expression, "had brass enough about his uniform to make a cannon of!"
When we reached New York, the first man I asked for was David Taylor, my old schoolmate, friend, and shipmate.
"He was luckier than you were," said the head clerk of the owners of the Marguerite and Hyacinth, "as he came into port all right and safe, though he was badly cut up and didn't believe he could have kept afloat three days longer. He had thrown overboard all his guns and shot in order to lighten his schooner while being chased by two men-of-war, so that he required a new armament. By the time the Hyacinth was ready for sea again the probabilities of peace became so great that the owners decided not to send her out. Taylor went to his old home in New Hampshire, and he's there yet; but I believe he'll be back soon to take command of a vessel that is to sail for the West Indies. Oh! here's a letter for you that came several days ago."
I saw that the letter was from David, and so I stepped aside and opened it. It contained good news from all the members of both our families, and the announcement that, after another year or so of sea-life, he would abandon the career of a sailor and settle down on shore. His share of the proceeds of the captures by the Hyacinth was sufficient to make him and family comfortable; but he said he did not propose to live a life of idleness. He had not fully made up his mind what to do, but thought he would buy a farm a few miles from New York, and devote a large share of his time to its management.
Haines and Herne decided that they were getting too old for sea-life; their prize money, in addition to previous savings, was sufficient for all their wants; and after many consultations they decided to become farmers. They went into partnership and bought a small farm on Long Island, about seven miles back of Brooklyn, and with it an assortment of live-stock, including horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and chickens.