January 16th, 1776
Last evening’s foraging succeeded admirably well. When night fell, we proceeded up the river, there being a reasonable moon. When we were in striking distance of a plantation known to the pilot, we put out in the boats and made our way to shore. My spirits were in a joyful sort of agitation, so desirous was I of activity; hazard itself seemed merely thrill.
We raided the barn and the pond both. It proved necessary that we strangle the ducks, which was not pleasant work, though requisite; we brought away two bags of them.
At the alarums of the chickens, the house was roused, and we soon perceived Negroes making their way for us; but when they encountered a line of us with muskets presented, they opined it was not for them to risk life and limb for their master’s hog.
I cannot truthfully report that Better Joe is an effective soldier; he is slow, and his musket seems an object of disgust to him; but he is an excellent driver of beasts, as is Pomp, both acclimated to such employment, and it is through their offices that our endeavor met with the success it did.
We returned to the schooner with our spoils, as we feared that the owner of the place even then sought out his neighbors to repulse us. There was no resistance, however, and it was but the work of an hour, after which our pilot dropped us down the river so that we should not be subject to insult from the shore, were the militia to assemble.
This day, a cold, heavy rain, which makes the sailing difficult, so we are anchored in an inlet and idling until such time as we may either continue to fall down the river to the ruins of Norfolk and the fleet, or fetch more provisions from the shore.
One of the sailors, speaking of the Doretta, told us that any man who names his ship after his wife is a fool, for it is sure to meet with some cruel fate, as plague, mutiny, madness, or Algerians. Pomp asked him of the sea’s lore, and he told us tales of sea-waifs in cradles of kelp, and the glowing corposants that crawl ships’ spars when guilty men keep crimes embosomed.
Such a day is not distasteful; for I find that I am no longer merely an observer, sat upon a dark deck; but I am engaged in the struggle, and this itself brings joy.