Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.Jack a Prisoner—A Privateer and a Slaver.On leaving theGlutton, I was struck down by sickness, and lay for many long months in the hospital at Portsmouth, scarcely expecting to recover. Oh, how hideous did Death, which I had braved a hundred times in open fight, appear as silently he stalked along the wards of the hospital! I trembled as I thought of the past;—how small was the hope I had in the future! There was no one to bring me comfort—no one to afford counsel—no one to point out the right, the only way by which a sinner can be justified in the sight of a pure, just, holy God. Many good resolutions I made—as many were soon afterwards broken. I recovered; health returned to my veins—vigour to my arm. Once more I was afloat in a dashing frigate.We were off the Frenchman’s coast. In a deep bay lay a number of the enemy’s vessels. It was necessary to ascertain their character. They were supposed to be gun-boats. Our second lieutenant, Mr Ronald—a noble specimen of a naval officer, and as active as a cat, though he had but one leg—was directed to take the gig, a fast-pulling boat, and to gain all the information he could. I was with him; so was Peter. The frigate had made sail, as if about to leave the coast; but as soon as it was dark, she stood back again. The gig was lowered, and we shoved off.In dead silence, with muffled oars, we pulled in towards the shore. We knew that the enemy mustered strong in the neighbourhood. Thus it was necessary to be cautious. Not a word was spoken. The phosphorescent light sparkled from the blades of our oars, appearing brighter from the darkness which prevailed, but that could not be seen at any distance. The time for our expedition had been well selected. We had pitchy darkness to favour our advance; but we knew that the moon would soon rise, and enable us to make the necessary observations. We pulled slowly in, for the tide was with us, and Mr Ronald told us to reserve our strength till it would be most required. As we got close in with the shore, we could make out the masts of a number of vessels, in a confused mass; but what they were without more light, it was impossible to say without going close up to them. Mr Ronald was not a man to leave his work half done through fear of consequences, so we pulled on till our oars almost touched some of the outer vessels. Our officer made his remarks as we continued our course round the bay.Not a sound had broken the stillness of the night except the almost inaudible dip of our oars in the water. The clouds, which had hitherto obscured the sky, floated gradually away; the stars shone forth bright and clear, their sparkling orbs reflected in the smooth water; and then, rising from behind the land, the moon shed her calm silvery gleam across the sheltered bay. We were at the time under the shadow of some high land. “Give way, my lads; it is time we should be out of this!” whispered the lieutenant. It was time indeed! Peter’s quick eye, looking seaward, observed several dark objects floating in the distance. “Boats in!” he said, pointing in that direction. The lieutenant looked there also. There could be no doubt about it. There were four large boats. He ordered us to lay on our oars, to watch in what direction they would pull. We hoped that they had not as yet observed us. The people in the boats seemed to be holding a conference. At last they parted. One pulled across the mouth of the bay in one direction; one in the other; but two advanced up the bay. There seemed no possibility of our escaping without being seen. Still it was far from Mr Ronald’s intention of giving in till he was actually laid hold of. Hitherto the shade of the cliff prevented our being seen. The gap between the boats through which we could hope to escape widened more and more. Meantime, our thoughts were occupied in the contemplation of the pleasures of a French prison, of which we had too often heard to have any wish to enjoy them. Mr Ronald watched our opportunity. “Now, my lads,” he whispered, “give way with a will!” We needed no encouragement. As a rat darts out of the corner in which it has taken shelter when the dogs stand ready on either side hoping to catch it, so we darted out from our sheltered nook towards the open sea.The movement drew the attention of the French boats towards us, and in another minute all four were steering courses which would give them every prospect of cutting us off. We were all armed, but it would have been madness to attempt to beat off so overwhelming a force. We had to trust alone to the fleetness of our heels. We might have a prospect of distancing the two boats which had gone up the bay, and which were on our larboard-hand, but we must inevitably run the gauntlet between the other two. The question was, whether we could pass through them before they closed in on us. We made the strong ash sticks bend again as we sent the boat flying through the bubbling water. We sung out in our eagerness, encouraging each other. Every moment the space between the two boats was narrowing. We did not give in though. The Frenchmen now saw that there was a chance of our escaping, and began firing. The bullets flew thickly about our heads. Several hit the gunwale of the boat, but none of us were hurt. Their firing rather encouraged us to persevere, in the hope of escaping.At last I felt a severe blow on my arm, and involuntarily dropped my oar. A bullet had struck it. Still, I was sure it was not broken; so I took my handkerchief off my neck, and bound it up. I seized my oar, and pulled on. “Oh, the blackguards! sure if they’d give us a fair start, and not be sending their dirty bullets at us, we’d be after bating them entirely, now!” sung out an Irishman, who pulled the bow-oar. Many people would, under the circumstances we were placed in, have given up before this; but Mr Ronald still hoped that we might dodge our enemies, and escape. The boats were not a hundred yards on either side of us. They gave way with a will. So did we. Still we might slip between them. If we did, we should have a good start; and pulling fast, as we could do, we might escape, should they not continue firing at us; but how could we expect them to be so lenient? On they came; narrow, indeed, grew the space between them. We dashed on. With a cry of dismay, we saw that our efforts were of no avail! With such force did they come on, that they literally almost cut our boat in two; and as she sunk between them, we had to jump out—some into one boat, some into the other—to save ourselves from drowning, and to find ourselves prisoners.How the Frenchmen did jabber away, and ask us all sorts of questions, none of which we could answer, from not being able to muster a word of French amongst us. The other boats came up, and then there was still more jabbering; and then the Frenchmen made us all get into one boat, and pulled with us towards a point of land on the east side of the bay. The boat soon reached a small, rough pier, and then two of the men, jumping on shore, ran off towards the town, which stood a little way off from us. We sat, meantime, wondering what was to be our fate.Shortly afterwards the tramp of feet was heard, and six or eight soldiers, or militiamen, or gendarmes, appeared, and halted near us. The officer of the boat then had a talk with them, and committed us to their charge. I have no doubt he told them to take good care that we did not run away. The boat, we concluded, had to row watch, and could not remain long absent from her post. The soldiers, before receiving us, grounded arms; shoved their ramrods down their muskets, to show us that they were loaded; examined the primings in the pans, and then, presenting their bayonets at our backs, in most unpleasant proximity, ordered us to advance. Our cutlasses had been taken away, and, of course, the muskets had gone down with the gig; but both Mr Ronald and Peter had their pistols stuck in their belts, inside their great-coats, so the Frenchmen did not discover them. We did not wish our first captors good-bye, nor exchange a word with each other, but, seeing there was no help for it, slowly stumbled on over the uneven ground ahead of our guards. I hoped that they would keep their footing better than we did; for, if not, some of us would stand a great chance of being run through with their bayonets. Had we not been unarmed, and aware that the boat was within hail, I don’t think we should have allowed ourselves to have been carried along as prisoners.However, our walk was soon at an end, and we reached the tower, which stood a short distance along-shore from where we landed, and not three hundred yards from the beach. It appeared to be in a very tumble-down ruinous condition, as we inspected it from the outside. We concluded that we should have to wait here till the following morning, before being marched off to prison. Whether the tower had been built for a fort, or only a mill, or a look-out place, it was difficult to discover in the scant light we had. There was a small arched door before us, with some stone winding-steps leading up from it. The sergeant in command of the party pointed to it, and some of the men gave us a gentle prick with the end of their bayonets, singing out, at the same time, some words which we guessed to be a command to go up there.“Let me go first, sir,” exclaimed Peter Poplar, springing through the door. “There may be some trap in the way, and it’s hard that you should have to fall down that, at all events.”When we were all in, the soldiers followed, making us go winding-up till we reached a chamber at the top of the building. The French soldiers saw us all in, and then shoving to the door, they shut it with a loud bang; but as there was no sound of bolts or bars, we guessed that there were none to the door.The light of the moon shone directly in through a loop-holed slip of a window, and we saw some billets of wood, and a small cask or two, and a few three-legged stools, with a broken table, and the remains of a bedstead, showing that the place had once been inhabited. Mr Ronald took a seat, and told us to follow his example; so we all sat down, feeling certainly very melancholy at first. We had much reason to be melancholy, for by this time we had heard a good deal about French prisons, and the treatment English prisoners received in them; and we could scarcely fancy a worse fate than to have to spend our future days in one. The lieutenant, however, was not the man to allow himself or others long to indulge in such thoughts. He got up.“We are in a bad plight, certainly, my lads,” said he; “but we’ll see if we cannot mend it. I have been in a worse plight myself—and so, I daresay, have you—and managed to escape without damage. Perhaps we may do so in this case.”“Yes, sir,” said Peter; “indeed I have.” And he described how we had escaped from the pirates’ den in Cuba.I told my companions how I had been preserved from being murdered by the Maroons; and altogether we soon got each other’s spirits up. My wounded arm hurt me not a little, but Peter took off my jacket, and bound it up carefully; and though I cannot say that the pain was much decreased, I resolved to bear it without complaining.Meantime, Mr Ronald made a minute examination of the place of our confinement; and by stepping on the table he discovered a hole in the roof, which he found that he could, without difficulty, make as large as he might wish. He at once set to work to do so, we all talking and walking about the room, to conceal any noise he might make. When he had got the hole large enough to admit his body, Peter, putting his shoulder under him, gave him a hoist through it, and with his hands and elbows he quickly scrambled up on the roof. As it sloped very much he could not walk about, so he sat himself down to make his observations. Having done so, and stayed some time to consider matters and form his plans, he came back into the room.“My lads,” said he, calling us round him, “you must clearly understand the position we are in. We are prisoners to our greatest enemies. They may choose to consider us as spies, and may cut our throats, or shoot us as such; and, at all events, they will send us to prison, and there keep us, as they have done many of our countrymen, till the war is over. Now, while I was on the roof I saw, not far from the beach, a small boat moored; and a mile or so away, I made out what I take to be a fleet of fishing-boats. What I propose is, to knock over the sentry at the door, and, if we can, we’ll surprise the rest of the soldiers, and gag and bind them. If they show fight, it can’t be helped: we must kill them. At all events, we must prevent them from raising an alarm, or following us. We will then make the best of our way to the beach, and I will undertake to swim off, and bring in the small boat I saw there. When we get her, it will be very hard if we cannot cut out some fishing-smack or other, in which we can cross over to England. If we don’t succeed, we shall probably get killed ourselves; but if we do, we shall obtain our liberty, and that is worth a struggle.”This speech inspirited us all, and we could scarcely refrain from shouting, as we promised to follow his directions, and to stick by him through thick and thin.The Frenchmen seeing that he had a wooden leg, and hearing him stump up and down, of course fancied that he would never attempt to run away; or that if he did make the attempt, he would not go without them finding it out. This, perhaps, made them more careless in the way they watched us. At all events, they had not even then found out what stuff English sailors are made of; and I don’t think they ever will.“Then, my lads, there’s no time to be lost,” said the lieutenant. “Are you all ready?”“Yes, sir,” said Peter, speaking for the rest; “but I beg pardon, sir, won’t your leg be heard as we go down, and it may give notice to the Frenchmen?”“I have thought of that,” said Mr Ronald, fastening a handkerchief round the end of the stump. “Now, I shall tread as softly as a cat.”We had all taken off our shoes, and armed ourselves with the legs of the table and the legs of the stools we had found in the room. My heart beat quick. Never had I been engaged in so daring a work. We dared not try the door till the moment we were to rush out. Mr Ronald gave the signal, and he leading the way, we threw open the door, and, before the sentry could turn his head, or even cry out, we had our hands on his mouth, and throwing him down backwards among us, we squeezed every breath out of his body. Whether he lived or died, I cannot say. We seized his musket and bayonet and sword, and without a moment’s delay, which would have been fatal, we rushed on, and sprung like wild beasts into the room where our guards were sitting. Some were sleeping; others were playing at cards; two were talking with their heads bent together. They had not time to look up even before we were upon them. Mr Ronald ran one of the card-players through with the sword we had taken from the guard; Peter killed another with the bayonet. I shall not forget his look of astonishment and dismay when he saw us standing before him. One of the other men knocked over a third with the leg of the table. Before the others could seize their arms, we had got hold of them. Mr Ronald was obliged to kill another man, who fought so desperately that we could not otherwise master him; and throwing ourselves on the remaining three, we bound and gagged them, and lashed them to the benches on which they had been sitting. The whole affair did not take us a minute. It was very bloody work, but it could not be helped. We then hurried to the bottom of the tower, and broke open the door. We had been prisoners a very short time, and could scarcely believe ourselves to be free.Hastening down to the beach, Mr Ronald stripped off his clothes, and plunging into the water, with his knife in his mouth, swam off towards the little boat he had before observed. Had it not been for my wound, I would gladly have gone instead of him. In spite of his wooden leg, he swam fast and strongly, and soon reached the boat. Getting into her, he cut her from her moorings, and then quickly paddled her to the more. More than once we had turned a glance inland, lest we mould have been observed; but, without interruption, Mr Ronald dressed, and then all of us getting into the boat, we pulled out seaward. She was too small to allow us, with any prospect of safety, to cross the Channel in her, so that we could not yet consider our enterprise accomplished.We had armed ourselves with the soldiers’ weapons, so that, had there been a strong breeze off-shore, we should not have been afraid to have attacked and attempted to cut out any merchant vessel or other well-armed craft. As it was, Mr Ronald judged that it would be wiser to endeavour to capture one of the fishing-boats he had seen. Muffling our oars, therefore, in dead silence we pulled out towards the largest of the fleet, and which lay the outermost of them all. Gliding alongside, we stepped softly on board. Her crew were, as we expected, asleep, and before they had opened their eyes we had our hands on their throats and our knees on their bosoms. As there were only three men and a boy, we easily mastered them; and, having bound and gagged them, we put them into the forepeak, while we proceeded to haul up the anchor and get the vessel under way.As soon as we could attend to our prisoners, we made signs to them that we would not hurt them; and I fancied that they considered themselves very fortunate in not having their throats cut, or being thrown overboard, by those terrible monsters, “les bêtes Anglais.” There was a light air off the shore, and, with very great satisfaction, we stood away from it. Anxiously we looked towards the coast we were leaving, but, as far as our eyes could pierce the gloom, we could not discover any vessel in pursuit of us. Still we were not free from danger, as we were likely enough to fall in with a French vessel, and again find ourselves prisoners. Mr Ronald, who was as kind and thoughtful as he was brave, told me to go to sleep; but my arm gave me too much pain to allow me to do so.The hours of night passed by, and day dawned; the bright sun arose on a cloudless sky. The coast of France rose in blue ridges astern of us, but not a sail was in sight all round the horizon. As our prospect of escaping recapture improved, our appetites, which we had not thought about, reminded us that we had gone a long time without eating; but when we came to examine the fishermen’s lockers, we found only a little black bread aboard, and a most scanty supply of water. They made us understand that their boat had gone on shore with some of their comrades to bring off water and provisions. Mr Ronald insisted on preserving most of the water for me, as a fever was already on me, and I was suffering dreadfully from thirst.The wind was very light, and we made but little way. As the sun rose, however, clouds began to collect to the northward, and the sky overhead became covered over with those long wavy white lines which go by the name of “mares’ tails,” and which always betoken wind. Still we stood on as before. Every now and then, however, a puff would come which threw the sails aback; but it quickly passed away, to be succeeded shortly by a stronger and more continuous one. At last the breeze headed us altogether, freshening up rapidly, till Mr Ronald called all hands to reef sails. The wind soon got the sea up, and in a short time we were pitching away close-hauled, with the boat’s head to the north-west. Changed, indeed, was the weather since the morning: then all had been bright, and blue, and calm; now, in the afternoon, the sky hung dark and gloomy, with heavy clouds, and green foam-topped seas danced wildly around us. I do not know what Mr Ronald thought about the matter, but as I lay on my back suffering from pain, hunger, and thirst, I began to question whether the ill-found boat would live through the sea which was getting up.Meantime a sharp look-out was kept for any vessel which might put us on shore anywhere on the English coast. At length a sail was seen to the eastward, and after watching her for some time, both Mr Ronald and Peter were of opinion that she would cross our course. This news cheered the spirits of all hands, for they had begun to suffer painfully from hunger and thirst. No one had taken more than a very small piece of black bread, for we could not deprive the poor French fishermen of their share of food. We were most anxious, on several accounts, that the stranger should get up to us before dark—in the first place, that we might ascertain whether she was friend or foe, and also lest we should miss her altogether. Should she prove French, we hoped, in spite of our hunger, still to avoid her. To mislead any enemies, we got out the Frenchmen’s clothes left on board, and rigged ourselves out as fishermen.“I feel pretty sure that vessel is English, sir,” said Peter, who had been watching the stranger. “But still I can’t make out what is the matter with her; she has been handled pretty roughly, I suspect.”Mr Ronald pronounced her to be a brig-of-war without any after-sail set; and as she drew near, we saw that there was good reason for this, as her mainmast had been carried away by the board, while her hull also had been much knocked about. It was clear that she had been in action. Mr Ronald waved to her; and, to our no small satisfaction, we saw her clewing up her sails to speak to us.Before going alongside, however, Mr Ronald released the Frenchmen, and, as he thought, explained to them that we were going on board the brig, and that they might return to the French coast. The Frenchmen stretched their limbs, and looked about them while we were going alongside the brig. This was an operation not altogether easy or free of risk, but we succeeded in getting hold of her. Mr Ronald went up first, followed by the other men; and as I was far too weak to help myself up, Peter had gone up the side, and was singing out for a rope, when the Frenchmen, instigated by what notion I know not, but fancying, I believe, that they were to be made prisoners, cut off the tow-rope, and hoisting the foresail, put down the helm, and stood away from the brig. Active as monkeys, they soon swayed up the mainsail, and, hauling close on a wind, they rapidly left the brig astern. I saw Peter eagerly waving to them to come back, and I have no doubt but that he fancied if they did not they would murder me. The brig, having no after-sail, could not haul her wind, so that my shipmates were perfectly unable to recover me. I certainly could do nothing to help myself, so I lay quiet, and trusted that the Frenchmen would have pity on me. I still thought they might murder me; and, at all events, expected that I should be sent to a French prison. I only hoped that we might not reach the part of the coast we had come from, for I could scarcely expect to escape being put to death when it was known that I was one of the party who had killed the French soldiers placed to guard us.I do not think, at the same time, that the Frenchmen had any murderous intentions. They were so pleased at recovering their boat and their liberty, that they were inclined to treat me civilly, if not kindly, and they continued to supply me with bread and water as I required. As we were half-way across the Channel, and they had lost their reckoning, we were not likely, I hoped, to make a good landfall in their attempt to reach their home.With anxious eyes I watched the brig on board which my shipmates had taken refuge, but darkness coming on, we very soon lost sight of her. My heart sunk within me, and I burst into a fit of tears, the first I had shed for many a long year. They were as anxious to avoid meeting any vessel as we had just been to find one. The wind had again chopped round to the southward, and though not blowing very strong, we made but little progress.All night we stood on under close-reefed canvas, and when the next morning dawned, I saw land to the southward. Its appearance evidently puzzled the Frenchmen. I guessed it to be no other than that of the island of Guernsey; while not a mile off, standing towards us under her topsails, was a large schooner. Had the Frenchmen altered their course, and run away from her, it would have excited the suspicions of those on board, so they kept on as before. This plan, however, did not avail them. A shot, which before long came whistling across our fore-foot, showed them that they were wanted alongside the schooner. The schooner hoisted English colours, and from her general appearance I had no doubt that she was a privateer. As soon, therefore, as the boat went alongside, I sung out that I was an Englishman, and a prisoner.“Halloa! Who’s that?” said a man, looking over the side of the schooner. “What! Jack Williams, is that you?” The speaker, without waiting for my reply, let himself down into the boat, and as he grasped my hand, I recognised him as my old acquaintance Jacob Lyal.Pointing to my arm, I told him that I had been wounded, and how ill I was; and he at once sung out for a sling, and in another minute I was safely placed on the deck of the vessel.The captain of the schooner then ordered the Frenchmen into the boat, and putting some of his people in her, she was dropped astern. I don’t know what he said to the Frenchmen, but they seemed far from contented with the change of lot. I learned afterwards that he wanted the boat to go in and cut out some French merchantmen.The schooner had a surgeon on board, and when the captain heard the account I gave Lyal of my late adventures, he directed that I should be immediately placed under his charge. I flesh, as soon as the fever abated, I got rapidly well and fit for duty.The schooner was, I found, theBlack Joke, belonging to the island of Guernsey. Lyal so worked on my imagination, by the accounts he gave of the life of a privateer’s-man, and the prize-money to be made, that he soon persuaded me to enter aboard her. There cannot be the shadow of a doubt that I ought to have gone back, by the first opportunity, to join my own ship; though, of course, I knew that, under the circumstances of the case, I ran very little fear of punishment by not doing so, should I at any time happen to fall in with her. The schooner was a very large vessel of her class, and mounted sixteen 6-pounders, with a crew of some eighty men or more. Captain Savage, who commanded her, was a bold dashing fellow, but he cared nothing for honour, or glory, or patriotism. He had only one object in view in fighting—it was to make money. Privateering was the shortest and easiest way he knew of, and as his professional knowledge and experience fitted him for the life, he took the command of theBlack Joke. His first officer, Mr Le Gosselen, was just the man for the sort of work to be done. He was a strongly-built, short, bull-necked man, and a first-rate seaman; but whatever human sympathies he might have had in his youth had all apparently been washed out of him.The schooner had only left Guernsey, after a refit, the day before I was taken on board her. I had been a fortnight in her before any prize of consequence was made. A few coasters had been surprised by means of the fishing-boat, but their cargoes were of very little value, and only two or three were worth sending into port. Of the rest, some were sunk, and others allowed to continue on their voyage, after anything worth having was taken out of them. The time had at last arrived when Captain Savage hoped to fall in with a convoy of French ships coming home from the West Indies. For a week or more we cruised about in the latitude they would probably be found in, but we saw nothing of them.At length, at daybreak one morning, several sail were seen hull down to the northward, and steering east. The wind was about south, so we stood away close-hauled towards them, in order to reconnoitre them more perfectly. As the sun rose, and we drew nearer, many more appeared, their white sails dotting the ocean far and wide.“That’s what we’ve been looking for, my lads!” cried the captain, pointing them out to the crew. “If we get hold of two or three of those fellows, we shall soon line our pockets with gold.”A loud cheer fore and aft showed that the speech suited the taste of his hearers. Great, indeed, was the contrast in the discipline between a privateer and a man-of-war. There was plenty of flogging, and swearing, and rope’s-ending, which the officers considered necessary to keep up their authority; but there was also a free-and-easy swagger, and an independent air about the men, which showed that they considered themselves on a par with their officers, and that they could quit the vessel whenever they fancied a change. At first I did not at all like it, but by degrees I got accustomed to the life, and imitated the example of all around.We stood on cautiously towards the Frenchmen, the officers’ glasses being continually turned towards them, to watch for any suspicious movement in the fleet. The captain had no doubt what they were, and all day we continued hovering about them, like a bird of prey ready to pounce down on its victim. We got near enough to make out a man-of-war in the van, and another in the centre of the fleet, while a number of stragglers brought up the rear. Of some of these latter we hoped to make prizes. Having ascertained this much, we stood off again from them, that, should our appearance have raised their suspicions, they might be again set to rest. Marking well the course they were steering, we knew that we should easily again fall in with them.The nights, to favour our enterprise, had been very dark, so that we might hope to pick out several, provided no noise was made, without being discovered. We waited anxiously for night to put our enterprise into execution; and as the sun set, we crowded all sail to come up with the convoy. Few vessels could surpass the schooner in her sailing qualities, which made her peculiarly fitted for the sort of work she was employed in.By midnight, we made out on our starboard-bow several sail, which we had no doubt were some of the sternmost vessels of the French convoy; so we stood towards them without hesitation. If any of the Frenchmen caught sight of the privateer, they probably took her for one of their own fleet. Slowly, their dark, misty-like forms glided by, while we watched them with eager eyes, wondering which the captain would select as our first victim. At last came a large brig. She was somewhat high out of the water, and her main-topgallant-mast had been carried away.“That’s the craft for us, boys!” cried Captain Savage, pointing her out. “Her cargo’s light, and probably the most valuable; and I doubt not that she has some wealthy passengers with their jewel-boxes with them. We will run them aboard, and try if we can’t take them without firing a shot!”We had got to windward of the fleet, and the helm being put up, we edged down towards the brig which it had been determined to take. In dead silence we approached our victim. As we drew near, the stranger observed us, and her people must have suspected that all was not right. He hailed, and inquired what schooner we were.“The French schoonerConcorde,” answered our captain, who knew that a vessel of that name had been out in the West Indies. For a short time the answer seemed to satisfy the Frenchmen; but seeing us approach still nearer, they hailed again, and told us to keep off.Captain Savage did not deign a reply, but our grappling-irons being ready, our helm was put hard a starboard, we ran alongside the brig, and had her fast locked in a deadly embrace.Although the Frenchmen’s suspicions had been aroused, they had made no preparations to receive us; yet as we ran her on board, we saw that there were numbers of people on her deck. “Follow me, my lads!” shouted Mr Le Gosselen, who saw that to secure an easy victory there was no time to be lost; and before any of the Frenchmen had time to stand to their arms, some fifty of us had sprung on their deck and attacked them, previously driving some overboard, others fore and aft, and the rest below. The greater number of our opponents seemed to be soldiers, by their dress and the way they fought. In vain their officers called to them to stand firm, and tried to rally them to the last; they themselves were pistolled or cut down, and in less than five minutes we were masters of the whole deck, with the exception of the after-part of the poop. Here a band of men stood firm, evidently surrounding a person of superior rank. He fought like a lion, and was likely to delay our victory, or to prevent it altogether. Seeing this, Captain Savage, who was himself the best swordsman I ever met, calling twenty of us to follow him, sprang on board over the quarter; and thus attacked in front and on one side, the French officers were driven across the deck. A blow from Captain Savage’s cutlass brought their chief on his knee. At that moment a piercing shriek arose high above the din of battle. How mournful! how full of agony it sounded! We had not before perceived a woman standing alone and unharmed among the wounded, the dead, and the dying, for not one of those who had opposed us had escaped.“Spare my father’s life! hurt not more his grey hairs!” she cried out in French.“That depends on circumstances, mademoiselle,” answered the captain of the privateer. “Here, my lads; carry the lady and the old man on board the schooner out of harm’s way; we must secure the brig before we think of anything else.”I was one of those to whom the captain spoke. I shall never forget the grief and agony of the poor young lady as she bent over her father. He was desperately wounded. I saw that he could not speak; but he still breathed. We lifted him as gently as we could, and carried him aboard the schooner, into the captain’s cabin; we then assisted the young lady, who followed eagerly, not knowing where she was going. All her thoughts and feelings were concentrated on her father. We placed him on the sofa, and I then went and called the surgeon to attend him. Mr Blister’s knowledge of his profession was very slight, and his practical experience limited; but still he had some notion of binding up a wound, and, at all events, he would treat a patient more gently than any of the rough hands belonging to the schooner.While what I have described was going on, the second officer, with a dozen men under him, had been directed to clew-up the brig’s sails, so as to let her drop as much as possible astern of the rest of the fleet, no others appearing to be following. This had been done; and we had hopes that the flash of the pistols had not been seen, or the reports heard by any of the vessels in advance.Having obeyed the orders, I again went on board the brig. The deck was now entirely in our possession. While some of our people were silencing several of the French crew, who still madly held out below, I followed the captain into the cabin. While we had been fighting on deck, others of our crew had found their way there, and, mad with rage at the opposition they had encountered, had spared neither age nor sex. I cannot venture to describe the scene of horror and confusion. There were several ladies, and their attendants, and children—among them, infants in arms, or just able to lisp their parents’ names. Already they were in the power of my ruffian companions. Shrieks of despair, cries for mercy rose from among them. Tables and chairs, and furniture of all sorts, lay broken on the door. Several dead bodies lay at the entrance of the cabin—officers, as was shown by their uniform; another lay leaning against the bulkhead, gasping out his last breath. We had discovered enough to show us why our capture was so crowded with people. She was a merchantman, in which the governor of one of the islands, together with his staff and their families, had taken their passage, while a body of soldiers had likewise been put on board.Captain Savage, to do him justice, when he found that the brig was completely in his power, did his best to rescue her unfortunate prisoners from further molestation, though in this he was but ill seconded by his officers. Rushing in among the men, he ordered them on deck, and to carry the dead bodies with them. One man refused to obey him.“Mutiny!” he exclaimed. “This is the way I put it down.” He levelled his pistol, and shot the man dead. “Here, take this fellow and heave him overboard with the rest,” he added, as the body fell to the deck.I with others obeyed, for all saw the stern justice of the proceeding. “My men,” he continued, “we must make sail away from her as fast as possible; for after what has occurred we can expect but little mercy should we fall into the hands of our enemies.”By this proceeding the cabin was cleared, and the wretched inmates were left in solitude, to mourn over their cruel fate. The captain placed Lyal, and one or two of the more steady men, to guard the door. I accompanied him on deck. Among the crew and passengers in that fierce though short night-battle, more than half had fallen; and, contrary to what is usually the case, the greater number had been killed. The rest, many of whom were wounded, were collected forward, all of them with their hands lashed behind their backs. They, believing themselves to have been captured by pirates, fully expected to be put to death. Our crew, when not actually executing the commands of the officers, were engaged all the time in plundering. The ladies had been stripped of their jewels, the officers of their watches and money; and every corner of the ship was ransacked for plate and other valuables, while clothes and private property of all sorts were laid hold of and carried off; and the men, even in the midst of their pillage, amused themselves by putting on officers’ coats, silk waistcoats, and cocked-hats.The captain now ordered the vessels to be separated. He, with the second mate and about forty men, remained in the brig, to commence the more serious work of examining the cargo; while the rest, greatly to their discontent, with about two-thirds of the male prisoners, were ordered aboard the schooner. The two vessels then made sail to the southward, on a course which would enable us, if we wished, to run down on the following night and pick out another prize.The examination of our capture was proceeded with very rapidly, and found of great value. The governor was carrying home a large fortune, much of it in specie; and the brig being an old trader, and considered a fine vessel, many merchants had shipped money by her. The poor ladies were left in possession of the cabin, and the captain ordered what food could be found to be taken down to them, while he directed the second mate, who was rather kinder-hearted than the first, to take charge of her, and to carry her into Guernsey. All things being arranged, the captain, leaving a prize-crew aboard the brig, returned to the schooner, and I accompanied him. The surgeon met us as we stepped aboard. The captain asked for the old governor.“Why, I suspect he will slip through our fingers. I have no power to keep him,” answered the surgeon.“We must do what we can for the old man,” observed the captain, with more feeling than I thought he possessed. “For his daughter’s sake, I hope he won’t die. What can she do, left alone in the world? Williams, you seem to understand the sort of thing, go in and see what you can do.”I obeyed the order gladly. I entered the cabin. Already was the poor girl left alone in the world. Her father’s corpse lay on the sofa, and she had fallen in a swoon across it.I did not go and call the surgeon. I knew that he did not feel for her, and could not help her. So, lifting her gently up, I removed the corpse, which I covered with a flag, and placed her on the sofa instead. I then got water and sprinkled it on her face, and bathed her temples. The captain came in, and found me thus engaged.“Where’s the old man?” he exclaimed, looking astonished.I pointed to the flag. He lifted it up.“What! dead!” he said. “Poor, poor thing!” I don’t know if at that moment the thought of the amount of misery of which we had been the cause flashed across his mind. It did across mine.Often have I since thought, what an accursed trade is that of a privateer’s-man. Licensed pirates at best; and often, as they perform their work, no better than the worst of pirates.“What’s to be done?” he continued, talking to himself. “I cannot stand the girl’s sorrow. We must get the body out of the way, at all events.”He stopped, and shaded his eyes with his hand. He had a family at home. Among them a daughter—tall and graceful, like that poor girl. “Williams,” he said abruptly, “call the surgeon.”When Blister came, he told him to ascertain if the old man were really dead. He stooped down, and lifting the flag, examined the body.“Yes,” he answered, in a perfectly satisfied tone. “I said he would die. There’s no doubt about it.” I believe he would have been vexed had he recovered to contradict him.“We must bury him, then,” said the captain. “We’ll do it decently. He was a fine old man, and fought like a lion. Send the sailmaker here.” The surgeon did as he was bid.“Don’t let him touch the poor girl, Jack,” he said. “She is better as she is. She would never let us remove her father’s body, if she were conscious of what was going forward.”The sailmaker came, and received orders to get a hammock with a shot at the feet, in which to enclose the old soldier’s corpse. Among the prisoners was a French priest. The captain sent for him; and he and a few officers who had escaped assembled on deck, the captain having explained to them that he wished to pay the last respect to a brave enemy. They, as Frenchmen know how to do, expressed themselves gratified at the compliment; and all stood around while the body was brought from below. Having been shown to them, it was secured in the hammock which had been prepared for the purpose. It was then placed on a plank at an open port, with the old soldier’s hat and sword. The priest offered up some of the prayers of his Church, and all stood with hats off in reverential awe.The prayers were finished—the captain had lifted his hand, as a signal to launch the body into the deep, when at that moment the tall, graceful figure of a lady appeared on deck. She cast one wild, hurried, inquiring glance around. Her eye fell on the shrouded corpse as it glided into the deep. With a piercing shriek, which rung far over the waters, she cried, “Father, I follow you!” and before anyone could prevent her, she sprung over the schooner’s low bulwarks into the blue sea, within the first circles formed by her parent’s form, as it vanished from our sight. In an instant all present rushed to the side; the boats were lowered rapidly; but as we looked around, no sign did there appear of the unhappy young lady. Such was the result of our night’s exploit! “It is better, perhaps, that it was so,” said the captain, dashing a tear from his eye.I cannot say that the catastrophe made any lasting impression even on him. It did not on me. That very night we stood again up to the convoy, and were successful in picking out another of them without being discovered. Both vessels reached Guernsey in safety, and turned out valuable prizes.I cannot pretend to give even an outline of all the adventures I met with while serving on board the privateer. From her fast-sailing qualities, and the daring and talent of her commander, she was very successful. We were constantly on the look-out for single merchantmen; and, unless they were strongly armed, they were nearly certain to become our prey. We never attacked an armed vessel if we could help it, and never fought if we could escape an enemy capable of injuring us. Now and then, when we thought that we were going to make prize of a rich merchantman, we found that we had caught a Tartar, and had to up stick and run for it. Twice we were very nearly caught; and should have been, had not night come to our aid, and enabled us to haul our wind without being seen, and thus get out of our pursuer’s way.Once, flight was impossible, and we found ourselves brought to action in the chops of the Channel by a French sloop-of-war of eighteen guns. Captain Savage, however, gave evidence of his skill and courage by the way he handled the schooner against so superior a force. By making several rapid tacks, we got the weather-gauge of our opponent; and then, after the exchange of several broadsides, we stood across his bows, when we delivered so well-directed a raking-fire that we brought his topmast down by the run. We had not escaped without the loss of several men, besides getting an ugly wound in our mainmast; so, to avoid any further disaster, and being perfectly content with the glory of having crippled an opponent of force so superior, we hauled our wind and stood up Channel. The Frenchman was afterwards fallen in with, and captured by a corvette of her own size.I have, I think, sufficiently described the occupation of a privateer. What I might have become, under the instruction of my old friend Peter, and the strict discipline of a man-of-war, I know not. On board the privateer, with the constant influence of bad example, I was becoming worse and worse, and more the slave of all the evil ways of the world. After serving on board the schooner for more than three years, I was paid off with my pocket full of prize-money, and, shipping on board a trader, I found my way to Liverpool.That port then, as now, afforded every facility to a seaman to get rid of his hard-earned gains. In a few weeks I had but a few shillings left. I had not the satisfaction of feeling that I had done any good with it. How it all went I don’t know. I believe that I was robbed of a large portion. I was so disgusted with my folly, that I was ready to engage in any enterprise, of however questionable a character, where I had the prospect of gaining more, which I resolved I would spend more discreetly.Liverpool at that time fitted out a number of slavers—the slave-trade, which was afterwards prohibited, being then lawful, and having many respectable people engaged in it. Hearing from a shipmate that theRoyal Oak, a ship of eighteen guns, with a letter-of-marque commission, was fitting out for the coast of Africa, and was in want of hands, I went and entered on board her. She carried, all told, eighty hands. I found two or three old shipmates aboard her, but no one whom I could call a friend.We reached the coast without any adventure, and in those days the slaves who had come down from the interior being collected in depôts, ready for shipment, we soon got our cargo on board. For several years I remained in this trade, sometimes carrying our cargo of hapless beings to Rio de Janeiro or other parts of the Brazils, and sometimes to the West Indies. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong in the system. All the lessons I had received in the West Indies, in my early days, were thrown away. The pay was good; the work not hard, though pretty frequently we lost our people by fever; and so I thought no more about the matter.At length I found my way back to Liverpool, just as the battle of Waterloo and Napoleon’s abdication brought the blessings of peace to Europe.

On leaving theGlutton, I was struck down by sickness, and lay for many long months in the hospital at Portsmouth, scarcely expecting to recover. Oh, how hideous did Death, which I had braved a hundred times in open fight, appear as silently he stalked along the wards of the hospital! I trembled as I thought of the past;—how small was the hope I had in the future! There was no one to bring me comfort—no one to afford counsel—no one to point out the right, the only way by which a sinner can be justified in the sight of a pure, just, holy God. Many good resolutions I made—as many were soon afterwards broken. I recovered; health returned to my veins—vigour to my arm. Once more I was afloat in a dashing frigate.

We were off the Frenchman’s coast. In a deep bay lay a number of the enemy’s vessels. It was necessary to ascertain their character. They were supposed to be gun-boats. Our second lieutenant, Mr Ronald—a noble specimen of a naval officer, and as active as a cat, though he had but one leg—was directed to take the gig, a fast-pulling boat, and to gain all the information he could. I was with him; so was Peter. The frigate had made sail, as if about to leave the coast; but as soon as it was dark, she stood back again. The gig was lowered, and we shoved off.

In dead silence, with muffled oars, we pulled in towards the shore. We knew that the enemy mustered strong in the neighbourhood. Thus it was necessary to be cautious. Not a word was spoken. The phosphorescent light sparkled from the blades of our oars, appearing brighter from the darkness which prevailed, but that could not be seen at any distance. The time for our expedition had been well selected. We had pitchy darkness to favour our advance; but we knew that the moon would soon rise, and enable us to make the necessary observations. We pulled slowly in, for the tide was with us, and Mr Ronald told us to reserve our strength till it would be most required. As we got close in with the shore, we could make out the masts of a number of vessels, in a confused mass; but what they were without more light, it was impossible to say without going close up to them. Mr Ronald was not a man to leave his work half done through fear of consequences, so we pulled on till our oars almost touched some of the outer vessels. Our officer made his remarks as we continued our course round the bay.

Not a sound had broken the stillness of the night except the almost inaudible dip of our oars in the water. The clouds, which had hitherto obscured the sky, floated gradually away; the stars shone forth bright and clear, their sparkling orbs reflected in the smooth water; and then, rising from behind the land, the moon shed her calm silvery gleam across the sheltered bay. We were at the time under the shadow of some high land. “Give way, my lads; it is time we should be out of this!” whispered the lieutenant. It was time indeed! Peter’s quick eye, looking seaward, observed several dark objects floating in the distance. “Boats in!” he said, pointing in that direction. The lieutenant looked there also. There could be no doubt about it. There were four large boats. He ordered us to lay on our oars, to watch in what direction they would pull. We hoped that they had not as yet observed us. The people in the boats seemed to be holding a conference. At last they parted. One pulled across the mouth of the bay in one direction; one in the other; but two advanced up the bay. There seemed no possibility of our escaping without being seen. Still it was far from Mr Ronald’s intention of giving in till he was actually laid hold of. Hitherto the shade of the cliff prevented our being seen. The gap between the boats through which we could hope to escape widened more and more. Meantime, our thoughts were occupied in the contemplation of the pleasures of a French prison, of which we had too often heard to have any wish to enjoy them. Mr Ronald watched our opportunity. “Now, my lads,” he whispered, “give way with a will!” We needed no encouragement. As a rat darts out of the corner in which it has taken shelter when the dogs stand ready on either side hoping to catch it, so we darted out from our sheltered nook towards the open sea.

The movement drew the attention of the French boats towards us, and in another minute all four were steering courses which would give them every prospect of cutting us off. We were all armed, but it would have been madness to attempt to beat off so overwhelming a force. We had to trust alone to the fleetness of our heels. We might have a prospect of distancing the two boats which had gone up the bay, and which were on our larboard-hand, but we must inevitably run the gauntlet between the other two. The question was, whether we could pass through them before they closed in on us. We made the strong ash sticks bend again as we sent the boat flying through the bubbling water. We sung out in our eagerness, encouraging each other. Every moment the space between the two boats was narrowing. We did not give in though. The Frenchmen now saw that there was a chance of our escaping, and began firing. The bullets flew thickly about our heads. Several hit the gunwale of the boat, but none of us were hurt. Their firing rather encouraged us to persevere, in the hope of escaping.

At last I felt a severe blow on my arm, and involuntarily dropped my oar. A bullet had struck it. Still, I was sure it was not broken; so I took my handkerchief off my neck, and bound it up. I seized my oar, and pulled on. “Oh, the blackguards! sure if they’d give us a fair start, and not be sending their dirty bullets at us, we’d be after bating them entirely, now!” sung out an Irishman, who pulled the bow-oar. Many people would, under the circumstances we were placed in, have given up before this; but Mr Ronald still hoped that we might dodge our enemies, and escape. The boats were not a hundred yards on either side of us. They gave way with a will. So did we. Still we might slip between them. If we did, we should have a good start; and pulling fast, as we could do, we might escape, should they not continue firing at us; but how could we expect them to be so lenient? On they came; narrow, indeed, grew the space between them. We dashed on. With a cry of dismay, we saw that our efforts were of no avail! With such force did they come on, that they literally almost cut our boat in two; and as she sunk between them, we had to jump out—some into one boat, some into the other—to save ourselves from drowning, and to find ourselves prisoners.

How the Frenchmen did jabber away, and ask us all sorts of questions, none of which we could answer, from not being able to muster a word of French amongst us. The other boats came up, and then there was still more jabbering; and then the Frenchmen made us all get into one boat, and pulled with us towards a point of land on the east side of the bay. The boat soon reached a small, rough pier, and then two of the men, jumping on shore, ran off towards the town, which stood a little way off from us. We sat, meantime, wondering what was to be our fate.

Shortly afterwards the tramp of feet was heard, and six or eight soldiers, or militiamen, or gendarmes, appeared, and halted near us. The officer of the boat then had a talk with them, and committed us to their charge. I have no doubt he told them to take good care that we did not run away. The boat, we concluded, had to row watch, and could not remain long absent from her post. The soldiers, before receiving us, grounded arms; shoved their ramrods down their muskets, to show us that they were loaded; examined the primings in the pans, and then, presenting their bayonets at our backs, in most unpleasant proximity, ordered us to advance. Our cutlasses had been taken away, and, of course, the muskets had gone down with the gig; but both Mr Ronald and Peter had their pistols stuck in their belts, inside their great-coats, so the Frenchmen did not discover them. We did not wish our first captors good-bye, nor exchange a word with each other, but, seeing there was no help for it, slowly stumbled on over the uneven ground ahead of our guards. I hoped that they would keep their footing better than we did; for, if not, some of us would stand a great chance of being run through with their bayonets. Had we not been unarmed, and aware that the boat was within hail, I don’t think we should have allowed ourselves to have been carried along as prisoners.

However, our walk was soon at an end, and we reached the tower, which stood a short distance along-shore from where we landed, and not three hundred yards from the beach. It appeared to be in a very tumble-down ruinous condition, as we inspected it from the outside. We concluded that we should have to wait here till the following morning, before being marched off to prison. Whether the tower had been built for a fort, or only a mill, or a look-out place, it was difficult to discover in the scant light we had. There was a small arched door before us, with some stone winding-steps leading up from it. The sergeant in command of the party pointed to it, and some of the men gave us a gentle prick with the end of their bayonets, singing out, at the same time, some words which we guessed to be a command to go up there.

“Let me go first, sir,” exclaimed Peter Poplar, springing through the door. “There may be some trap in the way, and it’s hard that you should have to fall down that, at all events.”

When we were all in, the soldiers followed, making us go winding-up till we reached a chamber at the top of the building. The French soldiers saw us all in, and then shoving to the door, they shut it with a loud bang; but as there was no sound of bolts or bars, we guessed that there were none to the door.

The light of the moon shone directly in through a loop-holed slip of a window, and we saw some billets of wood, and a small cask or two, and a few three-legged stools, with a broken table, and the remains of a bedstead, showing that the place had once been inhabited. Mr Ronald took a seat, and told us to follow his example; so we all sat down, feeling certainly very melancholy at first. We had much reason to be melancholy, for by this time we had heard a good deal about French prisons, and the treatment English prisoners received in them; and we could scarcely fancy a worse fate than to have to spend our future days in one. The lieutenant, however, was not the man to allow himself or others long to indulge in such thoughts. He got up.

“We are in a bad plight, certainly, my lads,” said he; “but we’ll see if we cannot mend it. I have been in a worse plight myself—and so, I daresay, have you—and managed to escape without damage. Perhaps we may do so in this case.”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter; “indeed I have.” And he described how we had escaped from the pirates’ den in Cuba.

I told my companions how I had been preserved from being murdered by the Maroons; and altogether we soon got each other’s spirits up. My wounded arm hurt me not a little, but Peter took off my jacket, and bound it up carefully; and though I cannot say that the pain was much decreased, I resolved to bear it without complaining.

Meantime, Mr Ronald made a minute examination of the place of our confinement; and by stepping on the table he discovered a hole in the roof, which he found that he could, without difficulty, make as large as he might wish. He at once set to work to do so, we all talking and walking about the room, to conceal any noise he might make. When he had got the hole large enough to admit his body, Peter, putting his shoulder under him, gave him a hoist through it, and with his hands and elbows he quickly scrambled up on the roof. As it sloped very much he could not walk about, so he sat himself down to make his observations. Having done so, and stayed some time to consider matters and form his plans, he came back into the room.

“My lads,” said he, calling us round him, “you must clearly understand the position we are in. We are prisoners to our greatest enemies. They may choose to consider us as spies, and may cut our throats, or shoot us as such; and, at all events, they will send us to prison, and there keep us, as they have done many of our countrymen, till the war is over. Now, while I was on the roof I saw, not far from the beach, a small boat moored; and a mile or so away, I made out what I take to be a fleet of fishing-boats. What I propose is, to knock over the sentry at the door, and, if we can, we’ll surprise the rest of the soldiers, and gag and bind them. If they show fight, it can’t be helped: we must kill them. At all events, we must prevent them from raising an alarm, or following us. We will then make the best of our way to the beach, and I will undertake to swim off, and bring in the small boat I saw there. When we get her, it will be very hard if we cannot cut out some fishing-smack or other, in which we can cross over to England. If we don’t succeed, we shall probably get killed ourselves; but if we do, we shall obtain our liberty, and that is worth a struggle.”

This speech inspirited us all, and we could scarcely refrain from shouting, as we promised to follow his directions, and to stick by him through thick and thin.

The Frenchmen seeing that he had a wooden leg, and hearing him stump up and down, of course fancied that he would never attempt to run away; or that if he did make the attempt, he would not go without them finding it out. This, perhaps, made them more careless in the way they watched us. At all events, they had not even then found out what stuff English sailors are made of; and I don’t think they ever will.

“Then, my lads, there’s no time to be lost,” said the lieutenant. “Are you all ready?”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter, speaking for the rest; “but I beg pardon, sir, won’t your leg be heard as we go down, and it may give notice to the Frenchmen?”

“I have thought of that,” said Mr Ronald, fastening a handkerchief round the end of the stump. “Now, I shall tread as softly as a cat.”

We had all taken off our shoes, and armed ourselves with the legs of the table and the legs of the stools we had found in the room. My heart beat quick. Never had I been engaged in so daring a work. We dared not try the door till the moment we were to rush out. Mr Ronald gave the signal, and he leading the way, we threw open the door, and, before the sentry could turn his head, or even cry out, we had our hands on his mouth, and throwing him down backwards among us, we squeezed every breath out of his body. Whether he lived or died, I cannot say. We seized his musket and bayonet and sword, and without a moment’s delay, which would have been fatal, we rushed on, and sprung like wild beasts into the room where our guards were sitting. Some were sleeping; others were playing at cards; two were talking with their heads bent together. They had not time to look up even before we were upon them. Mr Ronald ran one of the card-players through with the sword we had taken from the guard; Peter killed another with the bayonet. I shall not forget his look of astonishment and dismay when he saw us standing before him. One of the other men knocked over a third with the leg of the table. Before the others could seize their arms, we had got hold of them. Mr Ronald was obliged to kill another man, who fought so desperately that we could not otherwise master him; and throwing ourselves on the remaining three, we bound and gagged them, and lashed them to the benches on which they had been sitting. The whole affair did not take us a minute. It was very bloody work, but it could not be helped. We then hurried to the bottom of the tower, and broke open the door. We had been prisoners a very short time, and could scarcely believe ourselves to be free.

Hastening down to the beach, Mr Ronald stripped off his clothes, and plunging into the water, with his knife in his mouth, swam off towards the little boat he had before observed. Had it not been for my wound, I would gladly have gone instead of him. In spite of his wooden leg, he swam fast and strongly, and soon reached the boat. Getting into her, he cut her from her moorings, and then quickly paddled her to the more. More than once we had turned a glance inland, lest we mould have been observed; but, without interruption, Mr Ronald dressed, and then all of us getting into the boat, we pulled out seaward. She was too small to allow us, with any prospect of safety, to cross the Channel in her, so that we could not yet consider our enterprise accomplished.

We had armed ourselves with the soldiers’ weapons, so that, had there been a strong breeze off-shore, we should not have been afraid to have attacked and attempted to cut out any merchant vessel or other well-armed craft. As it was, Mr Ronald judged that it would be wiser to endeavour to capture one of the fishing-boats he had seen. Muffling our oars, therefore, in dead silence we pulled out towards the largest of the fleet, and which lay the outermost of them all. Gliding alongside, we stepped softly on board. Her crew were, as we expected, asleep, and before they had opened their eyes we had our hands on their throats and our knees on their bosoms. As there were only three men and a boy, we easily mastered them; and, having bound and gagged them, we put them into the forepeak, while we proceeded to haul up the anchor and get the vessel under way.

As soon as we could attend to our prisoners, we made signs to them that we would not hurt them; and I fancied that they considered themselves very fortunate in not having their throats cut, or being thrown overboard, by those terrible monsters, “les bêtes Anglais.” There was a light air off the shore, and, with very great satisfaction, we stood away from it. Anxiously we looked towards the coast we were leaving, but, as far as our eyes could pierce the gloom, we could not discover any vessel in pursuit of us. Still we were not free from danger, as we were likely enough to fall in with a French vessel, and again find ourselves prisoners. Mr Ronald, who was as kind and thoughtful as he was brave, told me to go to sleep; but my arm gave me too much pain to allow me to do so.

The hours of night passed by, and day dawned; the bright sun arose on a cloudless sky. The coast of France rose in blue ridges astern of us, but not a sail was in sight all round the horizon. As our prospect of escaping recapture improved, our appetites, which we had not thought about, reminded us that we had gone a long time without eating; but when we came to examine the fishermen’s lockers, we found only a little black bread aboard, and a most scanty supply of water. They made us understand that their boat had gone on shore with some of their comrades to bring off water and provisions. Mr Ronald insisted on preserving most of the water for me, as a fever was already on me, and I was suffering dreadfully from thirst.

The wind was very light, and we made but little way. As the sun rose, however, clouds began to collect to the northward, and the sky overhead became covered over with those long wavy white lines which go by the name of “mares’ tails,” and which always betoken wind. Still we stood on as before. Every now and then, however, a puff would come which threw the sails aback; but it quickly passed away, to be succeeded shortly by a stronger and more continuous one. At last the breeze headed us altogether, freshening up rapidly, till Mr Ronald called all hands to reef sails. The wind soon got the sea up, and in a short time we were pitching away close-hauled, with the boat’s head to the north-west. Changed, indeed, was the weather since the morning: then all had been bright, and blue, and calm; now, in the afternoon, the sky hung dark and gloomy, with heavy clouds, and green foam-topped seas danced wildly around us. I do not know what Mr Ronald thought about the matter, but as I lay on my back suffering from pain, hunger, and thirst, I began to question whether the ill-found boat would live through the sea which was getting up.

Meantime a sharp look-out was kept for any vessel which might put us on shore anywhere on the English coast. At length a sail was seen to the eastward, and after watching her for some time, both Mr Ronald and Peter were of opinion that she would cross our course. This news cheered the spirits of all hands, for they had begun to suffer painfully from hunger and thirst. No one had taken more than a very small piece of black bread, for we could not deprive the poor French fishermen of their share of food. We were most anxious, on several accounts, that the stranger should get up to us before dark—in the first place, that we might ascertain whether she was friend or foe, and also lest we should miss her altogether. Should she prove French, we hoped, in spite of our hunger, still to avoid her. To mislead any enemies, we got out the Frenchmen’s clothes left on board, and rigged ourselves out as fishermen.

“I feel pretty sure that vessel is English, sir,” said Peter, who had been watching the stranger. “But still I can’t make out what is the matter with her; she has been handled pretty roughly, I suspect.”

Mr Ronald pronounced her to be a brig-of-war without any after-sail set; and as she drew near, we saw that there was good reason for this, as her mainmast had been carried away by the board, while her hull also had been much knocked about. It was clear that she had been in action. Mr Ronald waved to her; and, to our no small satisfaction, we saw her clewing up her sails to speak to us.

Before going alongside, however, Mr Ronald released the Frenchmen, and, as he thought, explained to them that we were going on board the brig, and that they might return to the French coast. The Frenchmen stretched their limbs, and looked about them while we were going alongside the brig. This was an operation not altogether easy or free of risk, but we succeeded in getting hold of her. Mr Ronald went up first, followed by the other men; and as I was far too weak to help myself up, Peter had gone up the side, and was singing out for a rope, when the Frenchmen, instigated by what notion I know not, but fancying, I believe, that they were to be made prisoners, cut off the tow-rope, and hoisting the foresail, put down the helm, and stood away from the brig. Active as monkeys, they soon swayed up the mainsail, and, hauling close on a wind, they rapidly left the brig astern. I saw Peter eagerly waving to them to come back, and I have no doubt but that he fancied if they did not they would murder me. The brig, having no after-sail, could not haul her wind, so that my shipmates were perfectly unable to recover me. I certainly could do nothing to help myself, so I lay quiet, and trusted that the Frenchmen would have pity on me. I still thought they might murder me; and, at all events, expected that I should be sent to a French prison. I only hoped that we might not reach the part of the coast we had come from, for I could scarcely expect to escape being put to death when it was known that I was one of the party who had killed the French soldiers placed to guard us.

I do not think, at the same time, that the Frenchmen had any murderous intentions. They were so pleased at recovering their boat and their liberty, that they were inclined to treat me civilly, if not kindly, and they continued to supply me with bread and water as I required. As we were half-way across the Channel, and they had lost their reckoning, we were not likely, I hoped, to make a good landfall in their attempt to reach their home.

With anxious eyes I watched the brig on board which my shipmates had taken refuge, but darkness coming on, we very soon lost sight of her. My heart sunk within me, and I burst into a fit of tears, the first I had shed for many a long year. They were as anxious to avoid meeting any vessel as we had just been to find one. The wind had again chopped round to the southward, and though not blowing very strong, we made but little progress.

All night we stood on under close-reefed canvas, and when the next morning dawned, I saw land to the southward. Its appearance evidently puzzled the Frenchmen. I guessed it to be no other than that of the island of Guernsey; while not a mile off, standing towards us under her topsails, was a large schooner. Had the Frenchmen altered their course, and run away from her, it would have excited the suspicions of those on board, so they kept on as before. This plan, however, did not avail them. A shot, which before long came whistling across our fore-foot, showed them that they were wanted alongside the schooner. The schooner hoisted English colours, and from her general appearance I had no doubt that she was a privateer. As soon, therefore, as the boat went alongside, I sung out that I was an Englishman, and a prisoner.

“Halloa! Who’s that?” said a man, looking over the side of the schooner. “What! Jack Williams, is that you?” The speaker, without waiting for my reply, let himself down into the boat, and as he grasped my hand, I recognised him as my old acquaintance Jacob Lyal.

Pointing to my arm, I told him that I had been wounded, and how ill I was; and he at once sung out for a sling, and in another minute I was safely placed on the deck of the vessel.

The captain of the schooner then ordered the Frenchmen into the boat, and putting some of his people in her, she was dropped astern. I don’t know what he said to the Frenchmen, but they seemed far from contented with the change of lot. I learned afterwards that he wanted the boat to go in and cut out some French merchantmen.

The schooner had a surgeon on board, and when the captain heard the account I gave Lyal of my late adventures, he directed that I should be immediately placed under his charge. I flesh, as soon as the fever abated, I got rapidly well and fit for duty.

The schooner was, I found, theBlack Joke, belonging to the island of Guernsey. Lyal so worked on my imagination, by the accounts he gave of the life of a privateer’s-man, and the prize-money to be made, that he soon persuaded me to enter aboard her. There cannot be the shadow of a doubt that I ought to have gone back, by the first opportunity, to join my own ship; though, of course, I knew that, under the circumstances of the case, I ran very little fear of punishment by not doing so, should I at any time happen to fall in with her. The schooner was a very large vessel of her class, and mounted sixteen 6-pounders, with a crew of some eighty men or more. Captain Savage, who commanded her, was a bold dashing fellow, but he cared nothing for honour, or glory, or patriotism. He had only one object in view in fighting—it was to make money. Privateering was the shortest and easiest way he knew of, and as his professional knowledge and experience fitted him for the life, he took the command of theBlack Joke. His first officer, Mr Le Gosselen, was just the man for the sort of work to be done. He was a strongly-built, short, bull-necked man, and a first-rate seaman; but whatever human sympathies he might have had in his youth had all apparently been washed out of him.

The schooner had only left Guernsey, after a refit, the day before I was taken on board her. I had been a fortnight in her before any prize of consequence was made. A few coasters had been surprised by means of the fishing-boat, but their cargoes were of very little value, and only two or three were worth sending into port. Of the rest, some were sunk, and others allowed to continue on their voyage, after anything worth having was taken out of them. The time had at last arrived when Captain Savage hoped to fall in with a convoy of French ships coming home from the West Indies. For a week or more we cruised about in the latitude they would probably be found in, but we saw nothing of them.

At length, at daybreak one morning, several sail were seen hull down to the northward, and steering east. The wind was about south, so we stood away close-hauled towards them, in order to reconnoitre them more perfectly. As the sun rose, and we drew nearer, many more appeared, their white sails dotting the ocean far and wide.

“That’s what we’ve been looking for, my lads!” cried the captain, pointing them out to the crew. “If we get hold of two or three of those fellows, we shall soon line our pockets with gold.”

A loud cheer fore and aft showed that the speech suited the taste of his hearers. Great, indeed, was the contrast in the discipline between a privateer and a man-of-war. There was plenty of flogging, and swearing, and rope’s-ending, which the officers considered necessary to keep up their authority; but there was also a free-and-easy swagger, and an independent air about the men, which showed that they considered themselves on a par with their officers, and that they could quit the vessel whenever they fancied a change. At first I did not at all like it, but by degrees I got accustomed to the life, and imitated the example of all around.

We stood on cautiously towards the Frenchmen, the officers’ glasses being continually turned towards them, to watch for any suspicious movement in the fleet. The captain had no doubt what they were, and all day we continued hovering about them, like a bird of prey ready to pounce down on its victim. We got near enough to make out a man-of-war in the van, and another in the centre of the fleet, while a number of stragglers brought up the rear. Of some of these latter we hoped to make prizes. Having ascertained this much, we stood off again from them, that, should our appearance have raised their suspicions, they might be again set to rest. Marking well the course they were steering, we knew that we should easily again fall in with them.

The nights, to favour our enterprise, had been very dark, so that we might hope to pick out several, provided no noise was made, without being discovered. We waited anxiously for night to put our enterprise into execution; and as the sun set, we crowded all sail to come up with the convoy. Few vessels could surpass the schooner in her sailing qualities, which made her peculiarly fitted for the sort of work she was employed in.

By midnight, we made out on our starboard-bow several sail, which we had no doubt were some of the sternmost vessels of the French convoy; so we stood towards them without hesitation. If any of the Frenchmen caught sight of the privateer, they probably took her for one of their own fleet. Slowly, their dark, misty-like forms glided by, while we watched them with eager eyes, wondering which the captain would select as our first victim. At last came a large brig. She was somewhat high out of the water, and her main-topgallant-mast had been carried away.

“That’s the craft for us, boys!” cried Captain Savage, pointing her out. “Her cargo’s light, and probably the most valuable; and I doubt not that she has some wealthy passengers with their jewel-boxes with them. We will run them aboard, and try if we can’t take them without firing a shot!”

We had got to windward of the fleet, and the helm being put up, we edged down towards the brig which it had been determined to take. In dead silence we approached our victim. As we drew near, the stranger observed us, and her people must have suspected that all was not right. He hailed, and inquired what schooner we were.

“The French schoonerConcorde,” answered our captain, who knew that a vessel of that name had been out in the West Indies. For a short time the answer seemed to satisfy the Frenchmen; but seeing us approach still nearer, they hailed again, and told us to keep off.

Captain Savage did not deign a reply, but our grappling-irons being ready, our helm was put hard a starboard, we ran alongside the brig, and had her fast locked in a deadly embrace.

Although the Frenchmen’s suspicions had been aroused, they had made no preparations to receive us; yet as we ran her on board, we saw that there were numbers of people on her deck. “Follow me, my lads!” shouted Mr Le Gosselen, who saw that to secure an easy victory there was no time to be lost; and before any of the Frenchmen had time to stand to their arms, some fifty of us had sprung on their deck and attacked them, previously driving some overboard, others fore and aft, and the rest below. The greater number of our opponents seemed to be soldiers, by their dress and the way they fought. In vain their officers called to them to stand firm, and tried to rally them to the last; they themselves were pistolled or cut down, and in less than five minutes we were masters of the whole deck, with the exception of the after-part of the poop. Here a band of men stood firm, evidently surrounding a person of superior rank. He fought like a lion, and was likely to delay our victory, or to prevent it altogether. Seeing this, Captain Savage, who was himself the best swordsman I ever met, calling twenty of us to follow him, sprang on board over the quarter; and thus attacked in front and on one side, the French officers were driven across the deck. A blow from Captain Savage’s cutlass brought their chief on his knee. At that moment a piercing shriek arose high above the din of battle. How mournful! how full of agony it sounded! We had not before perceived a woman standing alone and unharmed among the wounded, the dead, and the dying, for not one of those who had opposed us had escaped.

“Spare my father’s life! hurt not more his grey hairs!” she cried out in French.

“That depends on circumstances, mademoiselle,” answered the captain of the privateer. “Here, my lads; carry the lady and the old man on board the schooner out of harm’s way; we must secure the brig before we think of anything else.”

I was one of those to whom the captain spoke. I shall never forget the grief and agony of the poor young lady as she bent over her father. He was desperately wounded. I saw that he could not speak; but he still breathed. We lifted him as gently as we could, and carried him aboard the schooner, into the captain’s cabin; we then assisted the young lady, who followed eagerly, not knowing where she was going. All her thoughts and feelings were concentrated on her father. We placed him on the sofa, and I then went and called the surgeon to attend him. Mr Blister’s knowledge of his profession was very slight, and his practical experience limited; but still he had some notion of binding up a wound, and, at all events, he would treat a patient more gently than any of the rough hands belonging to the schooner.

While what I have described was going on, the second officer, with a dozen men under him, had been directed to clew-up the brig’s sails, so as to let her drop as much as possible astern of the rest of the fleet, no others appearing to be following. This had been done; and we had hopes that the flash of the pistols had not been seen, or the reports heard by any of the vessels in advance.

Having obeyed the orders, I again went on board the brig. The deck was now entirely in our possession. While some of our people were silencing several of the French crew, who still madly held out below, I followed the captain into the cabin. While we had been fighting on deck, others of our crew had found their way there, and, mad with rage at the opposition they had encountered, had spared neither age nor sex. I cannot venture to describe the scene of horror and confusion. There were several ladies, and their attendants, and children—among them, infants in arms, or just able to lisp their parents’ names. Already they were in the power of my ruffian companions. Shrieks of despair, cries for mercy rose from among them. Tables and chairs, and furniture of all sorts, lay broken on the door. Several dead bodies lay at the entrance of the cabin—officers, as was shown by their uniform; another lay leaning against the bulkhead, gasping out his last breath. We had discovered enough to show us why our capture was so crowded with people. She was a merchantman, in which the governor of one of the islands, together with his staff and their families, had taken their passage, while a body of soldiers had likewise been put on board.

Captain Savage, to do him justice, when he found that the brig was completely in his power, did his best to rescue her unfortunate prisoners from further molestation, though in this he was but ill seconded by his officers. Rushing in among the men, he ordered them on deck, and to carry the dead bodies with them. One man refused to obey him.

“Mutiny!” he exclaimed. “This is the way I put it down.” He levelled his pistol, and shot the man dead. “Here, take this fellow and heave him overboard with the rest,” he added, as the body fell to the deck.

I with others obeyed, for all saw the stern justice of the proceeding. “My men,” he continued, “we must make sail away from her as fast as possible; for after what has occurred we can expect but little mercy should we fall into the hands of our enemies.”

By this proceeding the cabin was cleared, and the wretched inmates were left in solitude, to mourn over their cruel fate. The captain placed Lyal, and one or two of the more steady men, to guard the door. I accompanied him on deck. Among the crew and passengers in that fierce though short night-battle, more than half had fallen; and, contrary to what is usually the case, the greater number had been killed. The rest, many of whom were wounded, were collected forward, all of them with their hands lashed behind their backs. They, believing themselves to have been captured by pirates, fully expected to be put to death. Our crew, when not actually executing the commands of the officers, were engaged all the time in plundering. The ladies had been stripped of their jewels, the officers of their watches and money; and every corner of the ship was ransacked for plate and other valuables, while clothes and private property of all sorts were laid hold of and carried off; and the men, even in the midst of their pillage, amused themselves by putting on officers’ coats, silk waistcoats, and cocked-hats.

The captain now ordered the vessels to be separated. He, with the second mate and about forty men, remained in the brig, to commence the more serious work of examining the cargo; while the rest, greatly to their discontent, with about two-thirds of the male prisoners, were ordered aboard the schooner. The two vessels then made sail to the southward, on a course which would enable us, if we wished, to run down on the following night and pick out another prize.

The examination of our capture was proceeded with very rapidly, and found of great value. The governor was carrying home a large fortune, much of it in specie; and the brig being an old trader, and considered a fine vessel, many merchants had shipped money by her. The poor ladies were left in possession of the cabin, and the captain ordered what food could be found to be taken down to them, while he directed the second mate, who was rather kinder-hearted than the first, to take charge of her, and to carry her into Guernsey. All things being arranged, the captain, leaving a prize-crew aboard the brig, returned to the schooner, and I accompanied him. The surgeon met us as we stepped aboard. The captain asked for the old governor.

“Why, I suspect he will slip through our fingers. I have no power to keep him,” answered the surgeon.

“We must do what we can for the old man,” observed the captain, with more feeling than I thought he possessed. “For his daughter’s sake, I hope he won’t die. What can she do, left alone in the world? Williams, you seem to understand the sort of thing, go in and see what you can do.”

I obeyed the order gladly. I entered the cabin. Already was the poor girl left alone in the world. Her father’s corpse lay on the sofa, and she had fallen in a swoon across it.

I did not go and call the surgeon. I knew that he did not feel for her, and could not help her. So, lifting her gently up, I removed the corpse, which I covered with a flag, and placed her on the sofa instead. I then got water and sprinkled it on her face, and bathed her temples. The captain came in, and found me thus engaged.

“Where’s the old man?” he exclaimed, looking astonished.

I pointed to the flag. He lifted it up.

“What! dead!” he said. “Poor, poor thing!” I don’t know if at that moment the thought of the amount of misery of which we had been the cause flashed across his mind. It did across mine.

Often have I since thought, what an accursed trade is that of a privateer’s-man. Licensed pirates at best; and often, as they perform their work, no better than the worst of pirates.

“What’s to be done?” he continued, talking to himself. “I cannot stand the girl’s sorrow. We must get the body out of the way, at all events.”

He stopped, and shaded his eyes with his hand. He had a family at home. Among them a daughter—tall and graceful, like that poor girl. “Williams,” he said abruptly, “call the surgeon.”

When Blister came, he told him to ascertain if the old man were really dead. He stooped down, and lifting the flag, examined the body.

“Yes,” he answered, in a perfectly satisfied tone. “I said he would die. There’s no doubt about it.” I believe he would have been vexed had he recovered to contradict him.

“We must bury him, then,” said the captain. “We’ll do it decently. He was a fine old man, and fought like a lion. Send the sailmaker here.” The surgeon did as he was bid.

“Don’t let him touch the poor girl, Jack,” he said. “She is better as she is. She would never let us remove her father’s body, if she were conscious of what was going forward.”

The sailmaker came, and received orders to get a hammock with a shot at the feet, in which to enclose the old soldier’s corpse. Among the prisoners was a French priest. The captain sent for him; and he and a few officers who had escaped assembled on deck, the captain having explained to them that he wished to pay the last respect to a brave enemy. They, as Frenchmen know how to do, expressed themselves gratified at the compliment; and all stood around while the body was brought from below. Having been shown to them, it was secured in the hammock which had been prepared for the purpose. It was then placed on a plank at an open port, with the old soldier’s hat and sword. The priest offered up some of the prayers of his Church, and all stood with hats off in reverential awe.

The prayers were finished—the captain had lifted his hand, as a signal to launch the body into the deep, when at that moment the tall, graceful figure of a lady appeared on deck. She cast one wild, hurried, inquiring glance around. Her eye fell on the shrouded corpse as it glided into the deep. With a piercing shriek, which rung far over the waters, she cried, “Father, I follow you!” and before anyone could prevent her, she sprung over the schooner’s low bulwarks into the blue sea, within the first circles formed by her parent’s form, as it vanished from our sight. In an instant all present rushed to the side; the boats were lowered rapidly; but as we looked around, no sign did there appear of the unhappy young lady. Such was the result of our night’s exploit! “It is better, perhaps, that it was so,” said the captain, dashing a tear from his eye.

I cannot say that the catastrophe made any lasting impression even on him. It did not on me. That very night we stood again up to the convoy, and were successful in picking out another of them without being discovered. Both vessels reached Guernsey in safety, and turned out valuable prizes.

I cannot pretend to give even an outline of all the adventures I met with while serving on board the privateer. From her fast-sailing qualities, and the daring and talent of her commander, she was very successful. We were constantly on the look-out for single merchantmen; and, unless they were strongly armed, they were nearly certain to become our prey. We never attacked an armed vessel if we could help it, and never fought if we could escape an enemy capable of injuring us. Now and then, when we thought that we were going to make prize of a rich merchantman, we found that we had caught a Tartar, and had to up stick and run for it. Twice we were very nearly caught; and should have been, had not night come to our aid, and enabled us to haul our wind without being seen, and thus get out of our pursuer’s way.

Once, flight was impossible, and we found ourselves brought to action in the chops of the Channel by a French sloop-of-war of eighteen guns. Captain Savage, however, gave evidence of his skill and courage by the way he handled the schooner against so superior a force. By making several rapid tacks, we got the weather-gauge of our opponent; and then, after the exchange of several broadsides, we stood across his bows, when we delivered so well-directed a raking-fire that we brought his topmast down by the run. We had not escaped without the loss of several men, besides getting an ugly wound in our mainmast; so, to avoid any further disaster, and being perfectly content with the glory of having crippled an opponent of force so superior, we hauled our wind and stood up Channel. The Frenchman was afterwards fallen in with, and captured by a corvette of her own size.

I have, I think, sufficiently described the occupation of a privateer. What I might have become, under the instruction of my old friend Peter, and the strict discipline of a man-of-war, I know not. On board the privateer, with the constant influence of bad example, I was becoming worse and worse, and more the slave of all the evil ways of the world. After serving on board the schooner for more than three years, I was paid off with my pocket full of prize-money, and, shipping on board a trader, I found my way to Liverpool.

That port then, as now, afforded every facility to a seaman to get rid of his hard-earned gains. In a few weeks I had but a few shillings left. I had not the satisfaction of feeling that I had done any good with it. How it all went I don’t know. I believe that I was robbed of a large portion. I was so disgusted with my folly, that I was ready to engage in any enterprise, of however questionable a character, where I had the prospect of gaining more, which I resolved I would spend more discreetly.

Liverpool at that time fitted out a number of slavers—the slave-trade, which was afterwards prohibited, being then lawful, and having many respectable people engaged in it. Hearing from a shipmate that theRoyal Oak, a ship of eighteen guns, with a letter-of-marque commission, was fitting out for the coast of Africa, and was in want of hands, I went and entered on board her. She carried, all told, eighty hands. I found two or three old shipmates aboard her, but no one whom I could call a friend.

We reached the coast without any adventure, and in those days the slaves who had come down from the interior being collected in depôts, ready for shipment, we soon got our cargo on board. For several years I remained in this trade, sometimes carrying our cargo of hapless beings to Rio de Janeiro or other parts of the Brazils, and sometimes to the West Indies. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong in the system. All the lessons I had received in the West Indies, in my early days, were thrown away. The pay was good; the work not hard, though pretty frequently we lost our people by fever; and so I thought no more about the matter.

At length I found my way back to Liverpool, just as the battle of Waterloo and Napoleon’s abdication brought the blessings of peace to Europe.

Chapter Sixteen.Whaling in the South-Sea.Every sea-port in England was thronged with seamen whom the cessation of war had cast on shore without employment, when as I was strolling along the quays of Liverpool with my hands in my pockets, in rather a disconsolate mood, wondering in what direction my wayward fate would carry me, I ran bolt up against a post near which a gentleman was standing, and somehow or other managed to tumble over him.“Beg pardon, sir,” said I, looking up in his face; “I did not see you.”“No harm done, my man; but stop,” said he, as I was moving on; “I think I remember that voice and face. Jack Williams, I am certain?”“Yes, that’s certain,” said I, looking at him hard. “And I may make bold to guess that you, sir, are Mr Carr.”“You are right in your guess, Jack;—that is to say, I have been Captain Carr for some years past. I am glad to have fallen in with you, for I am fitting out a ship for a long voyage, and I like to have men with me whom I know and can trust.”“Glad to have your good opinion, sir, and without another question I’ll ship with you,” I answered. “Where are you bound for?”“A South-Sea whaling-voyage,” he answered. “I have been at it for some years now, both as mate and master, and I tell you there’s nothing like it for excitement and novelty. There’s our craft, Jack; theDrakeis her name. Look at her. Not a finer ship for her size sails out of Liverpool—measures five hundred tons, and carries forty hands. You’ll like the life, depend on it; and I say, if you fall in with any good men, let me know. I like to have trustworthy men serving with me.”I promised to do as he desired, and then went on board to have a look at the ship. I found her everything I could wish, and felt perfectly satisfied with the arrangement I had made. Having set my mind at ease on that point, I began to consider how I should pass my time till theDrakewas ready to receive her crew on board, for she was still in the hands of the carpenters. I bethought me, then, that I would run across to Dublin, to try and find out my old captain. I found a large smack—a regular passage vessel—just sailing, so I went aboard, and in two days we reached that port. On landing I inquired for Captain Helfrich, for I had forgotten where he lived. “There he goes along the quays,” answered the person I had addressed; and I saw a gentleman whom, from his figure, I did not doubt was him.“Captain Helfrich, sir, I beg pardon; but I’m glad to see you looking so well. I’m Jack Williams,” I exclaimed, running after him.“That’s my name; but I do not remember you, my man,” he answered.“I served my apprenticeship with you, and you were very kind to me, sir,” I replied; but as I spoke I looked more narrowly in his face, and saw a much younger man than I expected to meet.“Ah! you take me for my father, as others have done,” he remarked, laughing. “He has given up the sea long ago, but he will be glad to meet an old shipmate; and now I think of it, I have to thank you for the model of his old craft theRainbow. Come along by all means; I’m going to his house. You’ll find him much changed, though.”So I did, indeed, and it made me reflect how many years of my life had passed away. I found my old captain seated before the fire in a large arm-chair, with a book and spectacles on a table by his side, and a handkerchief over his knees. His hair was long and white as snow, and his cheeks thin and fallen in about the mouth; but still the hue of health had not altogether fled. He received me kindly and frankly, and seemed much pleased at my coming so far to see him. He desired to hear all about me, and was greatly moved at the account I gave him of theRainbow’sloss. He was sorry to find that all the time I had been at sea I had not improved my condition in the world. I confessed that it was owing to my idleness and unwillingness to learn.“Ah, I have learned many a lesson I did not know in my youth, from this book here, Jack,” said he, pointing to the book by his side, which was the Bible. “I now know in whom to trust; and had I known Him in the days of my youth, how much grief and shame I might have avoided! Mercifully, God has by His grace taught me to see my own errors; and I have endeavoured to remedy them as far as I have been able, in the way I have brought up my son. I have taught him what I learned from this book: ‘Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth.’”I was very much struck by the way my old captain, I may say the once pirate, spoke; and I afterwards learned that he had not failed to instil into his son the better principles he had imbibed. Still I am bound to say that he was an exception to the general rule; for, as far as my experience goes, men who grow careless of their duty to God and indifferent to religion, continue through life increasing in hardness of heart and conscience, without a thought of the past or a fear for the future—truly, living as if they had no souls to care for, as if there were no God who rules the world. Dreadful is their end! Therefore I say to all my readers: Never put off for a single hour—for a single minute—repentance and a diligent searching for newness of life. You know not what an hour, what a minute may bring forth. You may be suddenly summoned to die, and there may be no time for repentance.Among other questions, Captain Helfrich kindly inquired for my old friend Peter Poplar. How ashamed I felt of my own ingratitude, my heartlessness, when I could not tell him! No one I had met could tell me whether he still survived, or whether he had fallen among the thousands of brave men who had died that England might be free. I promised to make further inquiries before I sailed, and, should I fail to hear of him, to set out on my return from my proposed voyage with the express purpose of discovering him.That visit to my old captain is one of the few things performed of my own accord on which I can look back with satisfaction. The next day I sailed for Liverpool.Many strange and curious coincidences have occurred to me during my life. Two days before theDrakewas ready for sea, having failed to gain any tidings of Peter, I was standing on the quay—work being over—in the evening, with my hands in my pockets, just taking a look at my future home, when I observed a boat-load of men landing from a sloop which had lately brought up in the river. By their cut I knew that they were men-of-war’s men. Several of them I saw had been wounded, and, judging by their shattered frames, pretty severely handled. One was a tall thin man. The sleeve on his right side hung looped up to a button, and he leaned over on the opposite side, as if to balance himself. I looked eagerly in his face, for I doubted not I knew his figure. It was Peter Poplar himself! I sprung eagerly forward. Captain Helfrich’s appearance had made me feel old, but Peter’s weather-beaten countenance and grizzly hair reminded me that my own manhood must be waning. For a moment I do not think he knew me. He had thought me dead—killed by the French fishermen, or murdered in prison. At all events he had heard nothing of me from the moment I was carried off in the fishing-boat. How kindly and warmly he shook my hand with his remaining one!“I’ve lost a flipper, Jack, you see,” said he, sticking out his stump. “I never mind. It was for the sake of Old England; and I have got a pension, and there’s Greenwich ready for me when I like to bear up for it. There’s still stuff in me, and if I had been wanted, I’d have kept afloat; but as I’m not wanted, I’m going to have a look at some of my kith and kin, on whom I haven’t set eyes since the war began. Many of them are gone, I fear. So do you, Jack, come along with me. They will give you a welcome, I know.”I told him how sorry I was that I could not go, as I had entered aboard the whaler; but I spent the evening with him, and all the next day; and he came and had a look at theDrake, and Captain Carr was very glad to see him, and told him that he wished he had him even now with him. I cannot say how much this meeting with my old friend again lightened my heart; still I felt ashamed that I should have been in a trader, and away from one who had been more to me than a father, while he was nobly fighting the battles of our country. He had bravely served from ship to ship through the whole of the war. He, however, did not utter a word of blame. He only found fault with himself.“I told you once, Jack,” said he, “that I ought to have been a master, had it not been for my own ignorance, instead of before the mast; and having missed that, had I not continued too idle to learn, I might have got a boatswain’s warrant. I tell you this because, though you are no longer a youngster, you have many years before you, I hope, and may still get the learning which books alone can give you, and without which you must ever remain before the mast.”I need not say that he made me promise to find him out on my return. I shall never forget the kindly, fatherly glance the old man gave me as he looked down from the top of the coach which was to take him on his way to the home he had so long left.TheDrake, ready for sea, had hauled out into the stream. She might at once have been known as a South-Sea whaler by the height she was out of the water, and by the boats which hung from their davits around her, painted white, light though strongly-built, with their stems and sterns sharp alike, and with a slight curve in their keels—each from about twenty-six to nearly thirty feet in length. Although she had provisions enough on board—casks of beef, and pork, and bread, (meaning biscuit), and flour, and suet, and raisins, and rum, and lime-juice, and other antiscorbutics—to last us for nearly four years, they were not sufficient to bring her much down in the water, as she was built to carry many hundred barrels of oil, which we hoped to collect before our return. I may as well here describe the fittings of a whale-boat. In the after-part is an upright rounded post, called the loggerhead, by which to secure the end of the harpoon-line; and in the bows is a groove through which it runs out. It is furnished with two lines, each of which is coiled away in a tub ready for use. It has four harpoons; three or more lances; several small flags, called “whifts,” to stick into the dead whale, by which it may be recognised at a distance when it may be necessary to chase another; and two or more “drogues,” four-sided pieces of board to be attached to the end of the whale-line when it is hove overboard, and which, being dragged with its surface against the water, impedes the progress of the whale. Besides these things, each boat is supplied with a case in which are stowed several necessary articles, the most important being a lantern and tinder-box—the lantern to be used as a signal when caught out at night—a compass, and perhaps a small cooking-apparatus. A whale-boat, when going in chase, has a crew of six men: one is called the headsman, the other the boat-steerer. The headsman has the command of the boat. He is either the captain, or one of his mates, or one of the most experienced hands on board. TheDrakewas a strongly-built, well-found ship, and as the greater number of the crew were experienced hands, and we had confidence in our captain, we had every prospect of a satisfactory voyage. The crew are not paid wages, but share in proportion to their rank or rating, according to the undertaking. Provisions are, however, supplied them, so that although a man may, as sometimes happens, make very little all the time he is out, he cannot lose. Still, want of success falls very heavily on the married men who have families to support.The evening before we were to sail, one of the crew fell so sick that it was evident he could not go the voyage; so the captain ordered the second mate with several hands to take him ashore. Although not shipped as an able seaman, he was a strong, active young man, and it was necessary to supply his place. While some of the others carried the sick man to the hospital, I remained in the boat at the quay. While I was sitting, just looking up to watch what was taking place on shore, a young man in a seaman’s dress came down the slip and hailed me. By the way he walked, and the look of his hands, I saw at a glance that he was not a seaman.“I say, mate,” said he, in a sort of put-on manner, “I see that you’ve just landed one of your people. Does your captain, think you, want another man in his stead?”“I suppose so,” I answered, looking at him hard, to make out what he was, though I didn’t succeed. “But the mate will be down presently—you’d better ask him. He may meantime have shipped another hand.”“I’ll run the chance,” he replied. “I’ll go up and fetch my chest from my lodging. Just tell him, if he comes down in the meantime, that a man has volunteered to join. You can judge whether I’m likely to be fit for work.” He spoke in an off-hand, easy way, and without waiting for my reply, he walked rapidly up from the quay.The mate, directly after, came down without having found a man to his taste. I told him that one had offered—a strongly-built, active-looking, intelligent man, just cut out for a sailor, though, as I said, I did not think he was one. Mr Marsh, the mate, listened to my account, and as he stepped into the boat, seemed to be looking for the stranger. After waiting a few minutes, as the man did not appear, he gave the order to shove off.“There he comes, sir,” said I, seeing him walking rapidly along the quay with a seaman’s bag over his shoulder, while a porter accompanied him carrying a moderate-sized chest.“If you want another hand, I’m ready to ship for the voyage,” said he, coming down the slip, and abruptly addressing the mate.“Seaman or not, he’ll do,” said Mr Marsh to himself. “Well, put your traps into the boat, and come aboard, and we’ll see what the captain has to say to the matter,” he answered, aloud.The young man dropped a shilling into the hand of the porter, who looked at the coin and then at his countenance, and touched his hat. The stranger sat down on his chest in the bow of the boat, and we were soon on board. The captain then sent for him aft, and held him in conversation for half an hour or more. What was said I do not know; but the result was, that the young man came forward and told me that he had been entered as one of the crew, requesting me to show him where he was to stow his chest and bag. “In the forepeak,” said I; but he evidently did not know where that was, so without saying a word I helped him down with it.The first night we were at sea I had the middle watch, and scarcely had I made a dozen turns on deck, when he joined me. “What is your name?” said he; “I did not catch it.” I told him.“Well,” he continued, “there is no use denying it—I am not a sailor. The captain knows this; but I have promised soon to become one, and I want to keep my promise. Will you help me to do so, by teaching me all I want to know?”I told him I would do all I could for him, but that, as this was my first voyage in a whaler, I could not help him much about whaling matters.“Oh, that will soon come,” he answered. “I seldom see a thing done once that I cannot do afterwards; but I want you to help me in seamanship. I have been constantly on the water, and know how to handle a boat, but never before made a voyage.”I was so pleased with the frank way in which he acknowledged his ignorance, and the hearty desire he showed to learn, that I resolved to instruct him in everything I knew.I never found anybody pick up information so rapidly as he did. It was only necessary to show him once how to do a thing, while he kept his sharp eye fixed on the work, and ever after he did it almost if not quite as well. He very soon dropped the nautical phraseology he had assumed when he came on board, and which was clearly not habitual to him; and though he picked up all our phrases, he made use of them more in a joking way than as if he spoke them without thought, as we did.From the way he spoke, or from his manner when he addressed any of his messmates or the officers, or from the way he walked the deck, it was difficult to suppose him anything else than a gentleman-born, or a gentleman by education, whatever he had now become, and he at once got the name forward of “Gentleman Ned.” I asked him his name the day after he came on board.“Oh, ay. I forgot that,” he answered, quickly. “Call me Newman—Ned Newman. It’s not a bad name, is it?” So Ned Newman he was called; but I felt pretty certain from the first that it was not his real name.He was good-looking, with fair hair and complexion, and a determined, firm expression about the mouth. He seemed to put perfect confidence in me, and we at once became great friends—not that we had at first many ideas in common, for I was very ignorant, and he knew more than I supposed it possible for any man to know. He showed me his chest, which surprised me not a little. Most of his clothes were contained in his bag. He had not a large kit, but everything was new and of the best materials, calculated to outlast three times the quantity of sailors’ common slops. Instead of clothes, his chest contained a spy-glass, a quadrant, just like those of the officers, and a good stock of books, which I found were in a variety of languages, and some even, I afterwards learned, were in Greek. Then he had all sorts of drawing-materials—papers, and pencils, and sketch-books, and a colour-box, and mathematical instruments, and even a chronometer. He had a writing-case, and a tool-box, and a flute and violin, and some music-books. I asked him if he could use the quadrant.“I never took an observation in my life; but I can work a day’s work as well as a lunar, so I think that I may soon learn the practical part of the business,” he answered.I pointed to his musical instruments. “Yes; I play occasionally, when I wish to dispel an evil spirit; but books are my great resource. Jack, you lose much pleasure from your ignorance of the rudiments of learning. Take my advice and study. It’s not too late to begin. Nonsense! difficult! everything worth doing is difficult! There’s pleasure in overcoming difficulties. Come, you have begun to teach me seamanship—to knot and splice—to reef and steer. I’ll teach you to read, and then the way is open to you to teach yourself whatever you like. Navigation! certainly. Why, you would have been master of a vessel by this time if you had known that.” In the interval of Newman’s remarks I was making excuses for my ignorance; but he would listen to none of them, and I promised, old as I was, to put myself under his instruction, and to endeavour to be as apt a pupil to him as he was to me.As I have said, I never saw anyone learn so rapidly as he did everything which came in his way. Before six weeks had passed, there was very little remaining for me to teach him. Every knot and splice he mastered in a week or so, and could make them as neatly as I did. I don’t think he had ever before been up a ship’s mast; but from the first day he was constantly aloft, examining the rigging, and seeing where all the ropes led to. I had shown him how to reef and furl sails, and the very first squall we had, he was among the foremost aloft to lay-out on the yard. His hands went as readily as those of the oldest seaman into the tar-bucket; and so, though when he came aboard they were fair and soft, they soon became as brown and hard as any of ours. With the theory of seamanship he was already well acquainted—such as the way by which the wind acts on the sails, the resistance offered by the water on the hull, and so on; so that, when any manoeuvre was performed, he at once knew the reason of it. It is not too much to say that before we crossed the line he was as good a seaman, in many respects, as most of the hands on board; and certainly he would have made a better officer than any of us forward.We were bound round Cape Horn, and Captain Carr intended to try his fortune on the borders of the Antarctic ice-fields, in the neighbourhood of New Zealand and the coast of Japan, among the East India Islands; and those wide-spreading groups, among which are found the Friendly Islands, the Navigators, the Feejees, the New Hebrides, the Loyalty Islands, and New Caledonia, and known under the general name of Polynesia. Perhaps other places might be visited, so that we had a pretty wide range over which our voyage was likely to extend. People at home are little aware, in general, of the great number of places a South-Seaman visits in the course of a three or four years’ whaling-voyage; and certainly in no other trade is a lad of a roving disposition so likely to be able to gratify his tastes.The first place we touched at was Porto Praya, in the island of Saint Jago, one of the Cape de Verds, our captain being anxious to fill up with water, and to get for the crew a supply of fruit and vegetables and poultry, which are here to be procured in abundance. Sailors, however, are apt to forget that fruit, at all events, is not to be found all the year round; and I have seen people very indignant because the fruit-trees were not bearing their ripe produce at the very moment they were honouring the place by their presence, and heartily abuse previous visitors for having deceived them.I was one of the boat’s crew which went on shore to get provisions, and we were half pulled to pieces, as we entered the town, by men, women, and boys—brown, yellow, and black—chattering away in a jargon of half-African half-Portuguese, as they thrust before our eyes a dozen chickens a few weeks old, all strung together; baskets of eggs, or tamarinds, or dates, or bananas, and bunches of luscious grapes, and pointed to piles of cocoa-nuts, oranges, or limes, heaped up on cocoa-nut leaves close at hand. The place seemed filled with beggars, pigs, monkeys, slatternly females, small donkeys, and big oxen; dirty soldiers and idle sailors of all the shades and colours which distinguish the human race, dressed in handkerchiefs, and shirts, and jackets, and petticoats of every hue of the rainbow—the only thing they had in common being their dirt. Indeed, dirt predominates throughout the streets and dwellings, and in every direction. The houses, though mean, from being white-washed deceive a stranger at a little distance as to the cleanliness of the place. From a spirited sketch Newman made of the scene I have described, I here discovered his talent for drawing.We next touched at the Falkland Islands, then uninhabited, except by a few Gauchos, who had crossed from South America with a herd of cattle, which have since increased to a prodigious number, as they thrive well on the tussac grass, the chief natural production of the country. The fresh beef afforded by a couple of oxen was very acceptable, and contributed to keep us in health.Even before crossing the line, we had been on the look-out for whales, and all the boats and gear were in readiness to be lowered, and to go in chase at a moment’s notice. Everybody on board a whaler must be wide-awake, and prepared for all emergencies, or the ship may chance to return home with an empty hold. In no position in which a seaman can be placed is it so necessary to belong to thetryfraternity. If whales are not to be found on one fishing-ground, the ship must move to another; and if not seen there, she must sail on till she chases them round the globe. So if, when a whale is seen, the harpooner misses his aim, and the fish dives and swims a mile or more off, he must watch and watch till she rises, andtryagain. This try principle should be followed in all the concerns of life. Whatever ought to be done,tryand do it; never suppose a work cannot be done till it has been tried—perseverance in duty is absolutely necessary. Its neglect must bring ruin.We had a look-out at each mast-head, and one of the mates, or the boatswain, and sometimes the captain, was stationed at the fore-topgallant yard-arm. Sharp eyes were, therefore, constantly watching every part of the ocean, as our ship floated over it to the very verge of the horizon in search of the well-known spout of the whales. Great improvements have taken place since the time I speak of in the apparatus employed in the whale-fishery. I am told that guns are now used with which to send the harpoon into the whale’s body, while in my time it was driven by sheer strength and dexterity of arm, as the harpooner stood up at his full height in the bow of the tossing whale-boat, close to the huge monster, one blow of whose tail is sufficient to dash her into atoms.We were, it must be understood, in search of the sperm whale, which is a very different animal from what is called the black or Greenland whale, whose chief habitation is towards the North Polar regions, though found in other parts of the ocean. There are several sorts of whales, but I will not attempt to give a learned dissertation on them. I should not, indeed, have thought much about the matter, had not Newman called my attention to it. I should have hunted them, and killed them, and boiled down their blubber, with the notion that we had the produce of so manyfishon board. Now naturalists, as he told me, assert that whales should not be calledfish. They swim and live in the water, and so do fish; they have no legs, nor have fish; but their implements of locomotion are more like arms than fins. But whales do what no fish do: they bring forth their young alive—they suckle them, and tend them with the fondest affection in their youth. They have warm blood, and a double circulation; and they breathe the atmospheric air by true lungs. The tail of a fish is placed vertically, or up and down; that of a whale, horizontally—that is to say, its broadest part is parallel with the surface of the water. The tail of a large whale is upwards of 20 feet wide, and with a superficies of 100 square feet, and it is moved by muscles of immense strength. This will give some idea of the terrific force with which it can strike a boat. I have, indeed, heard of instances where a whale has stove in a ship’s bottom, and caused her to founder, with little time for the crew to escape. Their progressive movement is effected entirely by the tail; sometimes, when wishing to advance leisurely, by an oblique lateral and downward impulse, first on one side and then on the other, just as a boat is sent through the water when sculled with an oar; but when rushing through the deep at their greatest speed, they strike the water, now upwards and now downwards, with a rapid motion and vast force. As whales breathe the atmospheric air, they must come to the surface frequently for a fresh supply. They have then to throw out the water which has got into their mouths when feeding. This they do by closing a valve leading to the nasal passages, and forcing it by means of air through the blow-hole placed in the upper part of the head. It is this necessity of whales for breathing at the surface which enables man to make them his prey, in spite of their immense strength, while their spouts point out to him the place where they are to be found.The remarks I have made apply in common to the two chief sorts of whales, but the Greenland whale is a very different animal from the sperm whale, of which we were in search. The Greenland whale, (Balaena mysticetus), is also called the common, true, or whale-bone whale. I remember once, in a man-of-war, falling in with a dead whale in a perfect calm. We towed it alongside, but so ignorant was everybody on board of natural history, that no one knew where the whale-bone was to be found. At the cost of great trouble, with a horrible odour to our noses, we cut out a jaw-bone; which was perfectly valueless, except to make the front of a summer-house for our commander; and we then let our prize go with its rich contents, and glad enough we were to get rid of it.The Greenland whale is less in size than the sperm—its length being about 60 feet. The head occupies about a third of the entire length. It is narrow above, and broad, flat, and rounded beneath, so as to allow it to move rapidly under the water. The body is largest about the middle, and tapers suddenly towards the tail. The general colour is a blackish-grey, with part of the lower jaw, and throat, and belly white. The lips are five or six feet high, the eyes very small, and the external opening of the ears scarcely perceptible. The pectoral fins or arms are not long, and are placed about two feet behind the angle of the lips. The black whale has no teeth; but from the upper palate and jaw there hang down perpendicularly numerous parallel laminae—the baleen, or whale-bone, as it is called. (Footnote: The baleen or whale-bone I have described forms a most valuable portion of the produce afforded by the black whale, although not so valuable as the oil extracted from the same animal.) These filaments fill up the whole of the cavity of the mouth, and form a most complete strainer, so that only the most minute animals can enter. This is necessary, as the swallow is too small to admit even the smallest fish. When a black whale feeds, it throws up millions of small animals at a time with its thick lower lip, into the straining apparatus I have described; and as they are scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, when its vast size is considered some slight notion may be formed of the prodigious number it must consume at meal.There is another whale, found in the northern regions, called the razor-backed whale, from a prominent ridge on its back. It is found 100 feet long. As it is constantly moving along at the rate of five miles an hour, and is very powerful and active, frequently breaking away and carrying lines and gear with it, only the most daring whalers, in default of other prey, venture to attack it. There is a third sort of whale, called the broad-nosed whale, which is in many respects like a razor-back, but smaller—its length being from 50 to 80 feet.The smallest sort is the beaked whale, which is about 25 feet long. Great numbers of this whale are often caught in the deep bays and firths of Shetland and Orkney.I must now give an account of the spermaceti whale, (thePhyseter macrocephalus), to capture which was the object of our voyage. It is found through every part of the South Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and frequently makes its way to far northern latitudes. Still the southern seas must be considered its chief abode. In appearance and habits it is very different from the black whale. It is nearly as long as the razor-back, and exceeds it in bulk. In length it may be said to be from 80 to 85 feet, and from 30 to 35 in circumference. Looking at a sperm whale, the stem on its nose or snout appears very thick, and perfectly blunt, like a huge mallet about to strike. The head is a third part of the length of the body. At its junction with the body a hump rises, which we whalers call thebunch of the neck. Behind this is the thickest part of the body, which tapers off till there is another rise which we call the hump, in the shape of a pyramid—then commences thesmall, as we call it, or tail, with a ridge partly down it. The “small” gradually tapers till it contracts very much; and at the end the flukes, or what landsmen would call the tail, is joined on. In the immense head is contained the case, which is a cavity of almost triangular shape, and of great size, containing, when the whale is alive, that oily substance or fluid called spermaceti. I have frequently seen a ton taken from the case of one whale, which is fully ten large barrels. The use to the whale of the spermaceti in its head is, that, being much lighter than water, it can rise with great facility to the surface, and elevate its blow-hole above it. Its mouth is of great size, extending all the length of its head, or, as I have said, a third of its whole length. Its jaws narrow forward to almost a point—indeed, the lower one does so; and thus, as it swims along, like the stem of a ship, it serves to divide the water wedge, parting to make way for its huge body—the blunt snout being all the time like the lofty forecastle of an old-fashioned ship, clear of the waves high up above it. The inside of the monstrous cavity, the mouth, has nothing like the baleen or whale-bone, such as is found in the Greenland whale; but in the lower jaw it has a formidable row of large teeth of conical shape, forty-two in number. It has, however, none in the upper jaw; but instead, there are holes into which fit the points of those in the lower. These teeth are blunt, and are not used for biting or mastication, but merely to keep in the food which has entered its mouth. This food is chiefly theSquidorSepia octopus, known also by the name of the cuttle-fish. In the South-Seas they are of enormous size, and, with their long feelers or arms growing out of their heads, are sufficiently strong to hold a man under the water and to kill him.The sperm whale, however, swallows a variety of other fish. It catches them, not by swimming after them, but by opening wide its mouth and letting its prey swim into it! We will suppose ourselves looking down that vast mouth, as the lower jaw hangs perpendicularly to the belly; incapable it seems of moving. The interior of the throat is very large—capable of swallowing a man; the tongue is very small and delicate, and of a pure white colour; so are the teeth, which glisten brilliantly; and so is the whole interior. Fish are particularly attracted by their white appearance. They take it, perhaps, to be some marble hall erected for their accommodation; so in they swim, big and little squid equally beguiled! How the whale’s mouth must water when he feels a fine huge juicy octopus playing about his tongue! Up goes the lower jaw like a trap-door, and cephalapods, small and large, find their bright marble palace turned into a dark, black prison, from which there is no return; for, giving a turn with his tongue, he gulps them all down with a smack which must make old Ocean resound!In another respect, the sperm is very different from the Greenland whale. It seems to know the power of its jaws, and will sometimes turn on its pursuers and attack them, though generally a timid animal, and disposed to seek safety by flight. The general opinion is, that sperm whales often fight with each other, as we have caught them with their lower jaws twisted in a variety of directions, and otherwise injured. The sperm whale’s eyes are very small, with movable eyelids, and are placed directly above the angle of the mouth, or a third part of its whole length distant from the snout. It is very quick-sighted, as it is also quick of hearing. Its ears—small round holes, which will not admit a little finger—are placed directly behind the eyes. The fins, which, as I have said, might be called paws, are close to the angle of the mouth. I have known a female whale support her young on them; and they are used to balance the body, to steer by, and, when hard pressed, to sink with greater rapidity below the surface. The skin of the whale is perfectly smooth, though old bulls get rough marks about them. As a rule, though black above and white below, as they advance in years, like human beings, they get grey on the head. Oftentimes an old grey-headed bull proves a dangerous enemy.I have with greater minuteness than I intended given an account of the sperm whale. Its habits and mode of capture I will describe in the course of my narrative.

Every sea-port in England was thronged with seamen whom the cessation of war had cast on shore without employment, when as I was strolling along the quays of Liverpool with my hands in my pockets, in rather a disconsolate mood, wondering in what direction my wayward fate would carry me, I ran bolt up against a post near which a gentleman was standing, and somehow or other managed to tumble over him.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said I, looking up in his face; “I did not see you.”

“No harm done, my man; but stop,” said he, as I was moving on; “I think I remember that voice and face. Jack Williams, I am certain?”

“Yes, that’s certain,” said I, looking at him hard. “And I may make bold to guess that you, sir, are Mr Carr.”

“You are right in your guess, Jack;—that is to say, I have been Captain Carr for some years past. I am glad to have fallen in with you, for I am fitting out a ship for a long voyage, and I like to have men with me whom I know and can trust.”

“Glad to have your good opinion, sir, and without another question I’ll ship with you,” I answered. “Where are you bound for?”

“A South-Sea whaling-voyage,” he answered. “I have been at it for some years now, both as mate and master, and I tell you there’s nothing like it for excitement and novelty. There’s our craft, Jack; theDrakeis her name. Look at her. Not a finer ship for her size sails out of Liverpool—measures five hundred tons, and carries forty hands. You’ll like the life, depend on it; and I say, if you fall in with any good men, let me know. I like to have trustworthy men serving with me.”

I promised to do as he desired, and then went on board to have a look at the ship. I found her everything I could wish, and felt perfectly satisfied with the arrangement I had made. Having set my mind at ease on that point, I began to consider how I should pass my time till theDrakewas ready to receive her crew on board, for she was still in the hands of the carpenters. I bethought me, then, that I would run across to Dublin, to try and find out my old captain. I found a large smack—a regular passage vessel—just sailing, so I went aboard, and in two days we reached that port. On landing I inquired for Captain Helfrich, for I had forgotten where he lived. “There he goes along the quays,” answered the person I had addressed; and I saw a gentleman whom, from his figure, I did not doubt was him.

“Captain Helfrich, sir, I beg pardon; but I’m glad to see you looking so well. I’m Jack Williams,” I exclaimed, running after him.

“That’s my name; but I do not remember you, my man,” he answered.

“I served my apprenticeship with you, and you were very kind to me, sir,” I replied; but as I spoke I looked more narrowly in his face, and saw a much younger man than I expected to meet.

“Ah! you take me for my father, as others have done,” he remarked, laughing. “He has given up the sea long ago, but he will be glad to meet an old shipmate; and now I think of it, I have to thank you for the model of his old craft theRainbow. Come along by all means; I’m going to his house. You’ll find him much changed, though.”

So I did, indeed, and it made me reflect how many years of my life had passed away. I found my old captain seated before the fire in a large arm-chair, with a book and spectacles on a table by his side, and a handkerchief over his knees. His hair was long and white as snow, and his cheeks thin and fallen in about the mouth; but still the hue of health had not altogether fled. He received me kindly and frankly, and seemed much pleased at my coming so far to see him. He desired to hear all about me, and was greatly moved at the account I gave him of theRainbow’sloss. He was sorry to find that all the time I had been at sea I had not improved my condition in the world. I confessed that it was owing to my idleness and unwillingness to learn.

“Ah, I have learned many a lesson I did not know in my youth, from this book here, Jack,” said he, pointing to the book by his side, which was the Bible. “I now know in whom to trust; and had I known Him in the days of my youth, how much grief and shame I might have avoided! Mercifully, God has by His grace taught me to see my own errors; and I have endeavoured to remedy them as far as I have been able, in the way I have brought up my son. I have taught him what I learned from this book: ‘Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth.’”

I was very much struck by the way my old captain, I may say the once pirate, spoke; and I afterwards learned that he had not failed to instil into his son the better principles he had imbibed. Still I am bound to say that he was an exception to the general rule; for, as far as my experience goes, men who grow careless of their duty to God and indifferent to religion, continue through life increasing in hardness of heart and conscience, without a thought of the past or a fear for the future—truly, living as if they had no souls to care for, as if there were no God who rules the world. Dreadful is their end! Therefore I say to all my readers: Never put off for a single hour—for a single minute—repentance and a diligent searching for newness of life. You know not what an hour, what a minute may bring forth. You may be suddenly summoned to die, and there may be no time for repentance.

Among other questions, Captain Helfrich kindly inquired for my old friend Peter Poplar. How ashamed I felt of my own ingratitude, my heartlessness, when I could not tell him! No one I had met could tell me whether he still survived, or whether he had fallen among the thousands of brave men who had died that England might be free. I promised to make further inquiries before I sailed, and, should I fail to hear of him, to set out on my return from my proposed voyage with the express purpose of discovering him.

That visit to my old captain is one of the few things performed of my own accord on which I can look back with satisfaction. The next day I sailed for Liverpool.

Many strange and curious coincidences have occurred to me during my life. Two days before theDrakewas ready for sea, having failed to gain any tidings of Peter, I was standing on the quay—work being over—in the evening, with my hands in my pockets, just taking a look at my future home, when I observed a boat-load of men landing from a sloop which had lately brought up in the river. By their cut I knew that they were men-of-war’s men. Several of them I saw had been wounded, and, judging by their shattered frames, pretty severely handled. One was a tall thin man. The sleeve on his right side hung looped up to a button, and he leaned over on the opposite side, as if to balance himself. I looked eagerly in his face, for I doubted not I knew his figure. It was Peter Poplar himself! I sprung eagerly forward. Captain Helfrich’s appearance had made me feel old, but Peter’s weather-beaten countenance and grizzly hair reminded me that my own manhood must be waning. For a moment I do not think he knew me. He had thought me dead—killed by the French fishermen, or murdered in prison. At all events he had heard nothing of me from the moment I was carried off in the fishing-boat. How kindly and warmly he shook my hand with his remaining one!

“I’ve lost a flipper, Jack, you see,” said he, sticking out his stump. “I never mind. It was for the sake of Old England; and I have got a pension, and there’s Greenwich ready for me when I like to bear up for it. There’s still stuff in me, and if I had been wanted, I’d have kept afloat; but as I’m not wanted, I’m going to have a look at some of my kith and kin, on whom I haven’t set eyes since the war began. Many of them are gone, I fear. So do you, Jack, come along with me. They will give you a welcome, I know.”

I told him how sorry I was that I could not go, as I had entered aboard the whaler; but I spent the evening with him, and all the next day; and he came and had a look at theDrake, and Captain Carr was very glad to see him, and told him that he wished he had him even now with him. I cannot say how much this meeting with my old friend again lightened my heart; still I felt ashamed that I should have been in a trader, and away from one who had been more to me than a father, while he was nobly fighting the battles of our country. He had bravely served from ship to ship through the whole of the war. He, however, did not utter a word of blame. He only found fault with himself.

“I told you once, Jack,” said he, “that I ought to have been a master, had it not been for my own ignorance, instead of before the mast; and having missed that, had I not continued too idle to learn, I might have got a boatswain’s warrant. I tell you this because, though you are no longer a youngster, you have many years before you, I hope, and may still get the learning which books alone can give you, and without which you must ever remain before the mast.”

I need not say that he made me promise to find him out on my return. I shall never forget the kindly, fatherly glance the old man gave me as he looked down from the top of the coach which was to take him on his way to the home he had so long left.

TheDrake, ready for sea, had hauled out into the stream. She might at once have been known as a South-Sea whaler by the height she was out of the water, and by the boats which hung from their davits around her, painted white, light though strongly-built, with their stems and sterns sharp alike, and with a slight curve in their keels—each from about twenty-six to nearly thirty feet in length. Although she had provisions enough on board—casks of beef, and pork, and bread, (meaning biscuit), and flour, and suet, and raisins, and rum, and lime-juice, and other antiscorbutics—to last us for nearly four years, they were not sufficient to bring her much down in the water, as she was built to carry many hundred barrels of oil, which we hoped to collect before our return. I may as well here describe the fittings of a whale-boat. In the after-part is an upright rounded post, called the loggerhead, by which to secure the end of the harpoon-line; and in the bows is a groove through which it runs out. It is furnished with two lines, each of which is coiled away in a tub ready for use. It has four harpoons; three or more lances; several small flags, called “whifts,” to stick into the dead whale, by which it may be recognised at a distance when it may be necessary to chase another; and two or more “drogues,” four-sided pieces of board to be attached to the end of the whale-line when it is hove overboard, and which, being dragged with its surface against the water, impedes the progress of the whale. Besides these things, each boat is supplied with a case in which are stowed several necessary articles, the most important being a lantern and tinder-box—the lantern to be used as a signal when caught out at night—a compass, and perhaps a small cooking-apparatus. A whale-boat, when going in chase, has a crew of six men: one is called the headsman, the other the boat-steerer. The headsman has the command of the boat. He is either the captain, or one of his mates, or one of the most experienced hands on board. TheDrakewas a strongly-built, well-found ship, and as the greater number of the crew were experienced hands, and we had confidence in our captain, we had every prospect of a satisfactory voyage. The crew are not paid wages, but share in proportion to their rank or rating, according to the undertaking. Provisions are, however, supplied them, so that although a man may, as sometimes happens, make very little all the time he is out, he cannot lose. Still, want of success falls very heavily on the married men who have families to support.

The evening before we were to sail, one of the crew fell so sick that it was evident he could not go the voyage; so the captain ordered the second mate with several hands to take him ashore. Although not shipped as an able seaman, he was a strong, active young man, and it was necessary to supply his place. While some of the others carried the sick man to the hospital, I remained in the boat at the quay. While I was sitting, just looking up to watch what was taking place on shore, a young man in a seaman’s dress came down the slip and hailed me. By the way he walked, and the look of his hands, I saw at a glance that he was not a seaman.

“I say, mate,” said he, in a sort of put-on manner, “I see that you’ve just landed one of your people. Does your captain, think you, want another man in his stead?”

“I suppose so,” I answered, looking at him hard, to make out what he was, though I didn’t succeed. “But the mate will be down presently—you’d better ask him. He may meantime have shipped another hand.”

“I’ll run the chance,” he replied. “I’ll go up and fetch my chest from my lodging. Just tell him, if he comes down in the meantime, that a man has volunteered to join. You can judge whether I’m likely to be fit for work.” He spoke in an off-hand, easy way, and without waiting for my reply, he walked rapidly up from the quay.

The mate, directly after, came down without having found a man to his taste. I told him that one had offered—a strongly-built, active-looking, intelligent man, just cut out for a sailor, though, as I said, I did not think he was one. Mr Marsh, the mate, listened to my account, and as he stepped into the boat, seemed to be looking for the stranger. After waiting a few minutes, as the man did not appear, he gave the order to shove off.

“There he comes, sir,” said I, seeing him walking rapidly along the quay with a seaman’s bag over his shoulder, while a porter accompanied him carrying a moderate-sized chest.

“If you want another hand, I’m ready to ship for the voyage,” said he, coming down the slip, and abruptly addressing the mate.

“Seaman or not, he’ll do,” said Mr Marsh to himself. “Well, put your traps into the boat, and come aboard, and we’ll see what the captain has to say to the matter,” he answered, aloud.

The young man dropped a shilling into the hand of the porter, who looked at the coin and then at his countenance, and touched his hat. The stranger sat down on his chest in the bow of the boat, and we were soon on board. The captain then sent for him aft, and held him in conversation for half an hour or more. What was said I do not know; but the result was, that the young man came forward and told me that he had been entered as one of the crew, requesting me to show him where he was to stow his chest and bag. “In the forepeak,” said I; but he evidently did not know where that was, so without saying a word I helped him down with it.

The first night we were at sea I had the middle watch, and scarcely had I made a dozen turns on deck, when he joined me. “What is your name?” said he; “I did not catch it.” I told him.

“Well,” he continued, “there is no use denying it—I am not a sailor. The captain knows this; but I have promised soon to become one, and I want to keep my promise. Will you help me to do so, by teaching me all I want to know?”

I told him I would do all I could for him, but that, as this was my first voyage in a whaler, I could not help him much about whaling matters.

“Oh, that will soon come,” he answered. “I seldom see a thing done once that I cannot do afterwards; but I want you to help me in seamanship. I have been constantly on the water, and know how to handle a boat, but never before made a voyage.”

I was so pleased with the frank way in which he acknowledged his ignorance, and the hearty desire he showed to learn, that I resolved to instruct him in everything I knew.

I never found anybody pick up information so rapidly as he did. It was only necessary to show him once how to do a thing, while he kept his sharp eye fixed on the work, and ever after he did it almost if not quite as well. He very soon dropped the nautical phraseology he had assumed when he came on board, and which was clearly not habitual to him; and though he picked up all our phrases, he made use of them more in a joking way than as if he spoke them without thought, as we did.

From the way he spoke, or from his manner when he addressed any of his messmates or the officers, or from the way he walked the deck, it was difficult to suppose him anything else than a gentleman-born, or a gentleman by education, whatever he had now become, and he at once got the name forward of “Gentleman Ned.” I asked him his name the day after he came on board.

“Oh, ay. I forgot that,” he answered, quickly. “Call me Newman—Ned Newman. It’s not a bad name, is it?” So Ned Newman he was called; but I felt pretty certain from the first that it was not his real name.

He was good-looking, with fair hair and complexion, and a determined, firm expression about the mouth. He seemed to put perfect confidence in me, and we at once became great friends—not that we had at first many ideas in common, for I was very ignorant, and he knew more than I supposed it possible for any man to know. He showed me his chest, which surprised me not a little. Most of his clothes were contained in his bag. He had not a large kit, but everything was new and of the best materials, calculated to outlast three times the quantity of sailors’ common slops. Instead of clothes, his chest contained a spy-glass, a quadrant, just like those of the officers, and a good stock of books, which I found were in a variety of languages, and some even, I afterwards learned, were in Greek. Then he had all sorts of drawing-materials—papers, and pencils, and sketch-books, and a colour-box, and mathematical instruments, and even a chronometer. He had a writing-case, and a tool-box, and a flute and violin, and some music-books. I asked him if he could use the quadrant.

“I never took an observation in my life; but I can work a day’s work as well as a lunar, so I think that I may soon learn the practical part of the business,” he answered.

I pointed to his musical instruments. “Yes; I play occasionally, when I wish to dispel an evil spirit; but books are my great resource. Jack, you lose much pleasure from your ignorance of the rudiments of learning. Take my advice and study. It’s not too late to begin. Nonsense! difficult! everything worth doing is difficult! There’s pleasure in overcoming difficulties. Come, you have begun to teach me seamanship—to knot and splice—to reef and steer. I’ll teach you to read, and then the way is open to you to teach yourself whatever you like. Navigation! certainly. Why, you would have been master of a vessel by this time if you had known that.” In the interval of Newman’s remarks I was making excuses for my ignorance; but he would listen to none of them, and I promised, old as I was, to put myself under his instruction, and to endeavour to be as apt a pupil to him as he was to me.

As I have said, I never saw anyone learn so rapidly as he did everything which came in his way. Before six weeks had passed, there was very little remaining for me to teach him. Every knot and splice he mastered in a week or so, and could make them as neatly as I did. I don’t think he had ever before been up a ship’s mast; but from the first day he was constantly aloft, examining the rigging, and seeing where all the ropes led to. I had shown him how to reef and furl sails, and the very first squall we had, he was among the foremost aloft to lay-out on the yard. His hands went as readily as those of the oldest seaman into the tar-bucket; and so, though when he came aboard they were fair and soft, they soon became as brown and hard as any of ours. With the theory of seamanship he was already well acquainted—such as the way by which the wind acts on the sails, the resistance offered by the water on the hull, and so on; so that, when any manoeuvre was performed, he at once knew the reason of it. It is not too much to say that before we crossed the line he was as good a seaman, in many respects, as most of the hands on board; and certainly he would have made a better officer than any of us forward.

We were bound round Cape Horn, and Captain Carr intended to try his fortune on the borders of the Antarctic ice-fields, in the neighbourhood of New Zealand and the coast of Japan, among the East India Islands; and those wide-spreading groups, among which are found the Friendly Islands, the Navigators, the Feejees, the New Hebrides, the Loyalty Islands, and New Caledonia, and known under the general name of Polynesia. Perhaps other places might be visited, so that we had a pretty wide range over which our voyage was likely to extend. People at home are little aware, in general, of the great number of places a South-Seaman visits in the course of a three or four years’ whaling-voyage; and certainly in no other trade is a lad of a roving disposition so likely to be able to gratify his tastes.

The first place we touched at was Porto Praya, in the island of Saint Jago, one of the Cape de Verds, our captain being anxious to fill up with water, and to get for the crew a supply of fruit and vegetables and poultry, which are here to be procured in abundance. Sailors, however, are apt to forget that fruit, at all events, is not to be found all the year round; and I have seen people very indignant because the fruit-trees were not bearing their ripe produce at the very moment they were honouring the place by their presence, and heartily abuse previous visitors for having deceived them.

I was one of the boat’s crew which went on shore to get provisions, and we were half pulled to pieces, as we entered the town, by men, women, and boys—brown, yellow, and black—chattering away in a jargon of half-African half-Portuguese, as they thrust before our eyes a dozen chickens a few weeks old, all strung together; baskets of eggs, or tamarinds, or dates, or bananas, and bunches of luscious grapes, and pointed to piles of cocoa-nuts, oranges, or limes, heaped up on cocoa-nut leaves close at hand. The place seemed filled with beggars, pigs, monkeys, slatternly females, small donkeys, and big oxen; dirty soldiers and idle sailors of all the shades and colours which distinguish the human race, dressed in handkerchiefs, and shirts, and jackets, and petticoats of every hue of the rainbow—the only thing they had in common being their dirt. Indeed, dirt predominates throughout the streets and dwellings, and in every direction. The houses, though mean, from being white-washed deceive a stranger at a little distance as to the cleanliness of the place. From a spirited sketch Newman made of the scene I have described, I here discovered his talent for drawing.

We next touched at the Falkland Islands, then uninhabited, except by a few Gauchos, who had crossed from South America with a herd of cattle, which have since increased to a prodigious number, as they thrive well on the tussac grass, the chief natural production of the country. The fresh beef afforded by a couple of oxen was very acceptable, and contributed to keep us in health.

Even before crossing the line, we had been on the look-out for whales, and all the boats and gear were in readiness to be lowered, and to go in chase at a moment’s notice. Everybody on board a whaler must be wide-awake, and prepared for all emergencies, or the ship may chance to return home with an empty hold. In no position in which a seaman can be placed is it so necessary to belong to thetryfraternity. If whales are not to be found on one fishing-ground, the ship must move to another; and if not seen there, she must sail on till she chases them round the globe. So if, when a whale is seen, the harpooner misses his aim, and the fish dives and swims a mile or more off, he must watch and watch till she rises, andtryagain. This try principle should be followed in all the concerns of life. Whatever ought to be done,tryand do it; never suppose a work cannot be done till it has been tried—perseverance in duty is absolutely necessary. Its neglect must bring ruin.

We had a look-out at each mast-head, and one of the mates, or the boatswain, and sometimes the captain, was stationed at the fore-topgallant yard-arm. Sharp eyes were, therefore, constantly watching every part of the ocean, as our ship floated over it to the very verge of the horizon in search of the well-known spout of the whales. Great improvements have taken place since the time I speak of in the apparatus employed in the whale-fishery. I am told that guns are now used with which to send the harpoon into the whale’s body, while in my time it was driven by sheer strength and dexterity of arm, as the harpooner stood up at his full height in the bow of the tossing whale-boat, close to the huge monster, one blow of whose tail is sufficient to dash her into atoms.

We were, it must be understood, in search of the sperm whale, which is a very different animal from what is called the black or Greenland whale, whose chief habitation is towards the North Polar regions, though found in other parts of the ocean. There are several sorts of whales, but I will not attempt to give a learned dissertation on them. I should not, indeed, have thought much about the matter, had not Newman called my attention to it. I should have hunted them, and killed them, and boiled down their blubber, with the notion that we had the produce of so manyfishon board. Now naturalists, as he told me, assert that whales should not be calledfish. They swim and live in the water, and so do fish; they have no legs, nor have fish; but their implements of locomotion are more like arms than fins. But whales do what no fish do: they bring forth their young alive—they suckle them, and tend them with the fondest affection in their youth. They have warm blood, and a double circulation; and they breathe the atmospheric air by true lungs. The tail of a fish is placed vertically, or up and down; that of a whale, horizontally—that is to say, its broadest part is parallel with the surface of the water. The tail of a large whale is upwards of 20 feet wide, and with a superficies of 100 square feet, and it is moved by muscles of immense strength. This will give some idea of the terrific force with which it can strike a boat. I have, indeed, heard of instances where a whale has stove in a ship’s bottom, and caused her to founder, with little time for the crew to escape. Their progressive movement is effected entirely by the tail; sometimes, when wishing to advance leisurely, by an oblique lateral and downward impulse, first on one side and then on the other, just as a boat is sent through the water when sculled with an oar; but when rushing through the deep at their greatest speed, they strike the water, now upwards and now downwards, with a rapid motion and vast force. As whales breathe the atmospheric air, they must come to the surface frequently for a fresh supply. They have then to throw out the water which has got into their mouths when feeding. This they do by closing a valve leading to the nasal passages, and forcing it by means of air through the blow-hole placed in the upper part of the head. It is this necessity of whales for breathing at the surface which enables man to make them his prey, in spite of their immense strength, while their spouts point out to him the place where they are to be found.

The remarks I have made apply in common to the two chief sorts of whales, but the Greenland whale is a very different animal from the sperm whale, of which we were in search. The Greenland whale, (Balaena mysticetus), is also called the common, true, or whale-bone whale. I remember once, in a man-of-war, falling in with a dead whale in a perfect calm. We towed it alongside, but so ignorant was everybody on board of natural history, that no one knew where the whale-bone was to be found. At the cost of great trouble, with a horrible odour to our noses, we cut out a jaw-bone; which was perfectly valueless, except to make the front of a summer-house for our commander; and we then let our prize go with its rich contents, and glad enough we were to get rid of it.

The Greenland whale is less in size than the sperm—its length being about 60 feet. The head occupies about a third of the entire length. It is narrow above, and broad, flat, and rounded beneath, so as to allow it to move rapidly under the water. The body is largest about the middle, and tapers suddenly towards the tail. The general colour is a blackish-grey, with part of the lower jaw, and throat, and belly white. The lips are five or six feet high, the eyes very small, and the external opening of the ears scarcely perceptible. The pectoral fins or arms are not long, and are placed about two feet behind the angle of the lips. The black whale has no teeth; but from the upper palate and jaw there hang down perpendicularly numerous parallel laminae—the baleen, or whale-bone, as it is called. (Footnote: The baleen or whale-bone I have described forms a most valuable portion of the produce afforded by the black whale, although not so valuable as the oil extracted from the same animal.) These filaments fill up the whole of the cavity of the mouth, and form a most complete strainer, so that only the most minute animals can enter. This is necessary, as the swallow is too small to admit even the smallest fish. When a black whale feeds, it throws up millions of small animals at a time with its thick lower lip, into the straining apparatus I have described; and as they are scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, when its vast size is considered some slight notion may be formed of the prodigious number it must consume at meal.

There is another whale, found in the northern regions, called the razor-backed whale, from a prominent ridge on its back. It is found 100 feet long. As it is constantly moving along at the rate of five miles an hour, and is very powerful and active, frequently breaking away and carrying lines and gear with it, only the most daring whalers, in default of other prey, venture to attack it. There is a third sort of whale, called the broad-nosed whale, which is in many respects like a razor-back, but smaller—its length being from 50 to 80 feet.

The smallest sort is the beaked whale, which is about 25 feet long. Great numbers of this whale are often caught in the deep bays and firths of Shetland and Orkney.

I must now give an account of the spermaceti whale, (thePhyseter macrocephalus), to capture which was the object of our voyage. It is found through every part of the South Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, and frequently makes its way to far northern latitudes. Still the southern seas must be considered its chief abode. In appearance and habits it is very different from the black whale. It is nearly as long as the razor-back, and exceeds it in bulk. In length it may be said to be from 80 to 85 feet, and from 30 to 35 in circumference. Looking at a sperm whale, the stem on its nose or snout appears very thick, and perfectly blunt, like a huge mallet about to strike. The head is a third part of the length of the body. At its junction with the body a hump rises, which we whalers call thebunch of the neck. Behind this is the thickest part of the body, which tapers off till there is another rise which we call the hump, in the shape of a pyramid—then commences thesmall, as we call it, or tail, with a ridge partly down it. The “small” gradually tapers till it contracts very much; and at the end the flukes, or what landsmen would call the tail, is joined on. In the immense head is contained the case, which is a cavity of almost triangular shape, and of great size, containing, when the whale is alive, that oily substance or fluid called spermaceti. I have frequently seen a ton taken from the case of one whale, which is fully ten large barrels. The use to the whale of the spermaceti in its head is, that, being much lighter than water, it can rise with great facility to the surface, and elevate its blow-hole above it. Its mouth is of great size, extending all the length of its head, or, as I have said, a third of its whole length. Its jaws narrow forward to almost a point—indeed, the lower one does so; and thus, as it swims along, like the stem of a ship, it serves to divide the water wedge, parting to make way for its huge body—the blunt snout being all the time like the lofty forecastle of an old-fashioned ship, clear of the waves high up above it. The inside of the monstrous cavity, the mouth, has nothing like the baleen or whale-bone, such as is found in the Greenland whale; but in the lower jaw it has a formidable row of large teeth of conical shape, forty-two in number. It has, however, none in the upper jaw; but instead, there are holes into which fit the points of those in the lower. These teeth are blunt, and are not used for biting or mastication, but merely to keep in the food which has entered its mouth. This food is chiefly theSquidorSepia octopus, known also by the name of the cuttle-fish. In the South-Seas they are of enormous size, and, with their long feelers or arms growing out of their heads, are sufficiently strong to hold a man under the water and to kill him.

The sperm whale, however, swallows a variety of other fish. It catches them, not by swimming after them, but by opening wide its mouth and letting its prey swim into it! We will suppose ourselves looking down that vast mouth, as the lower jaw hangs perpendicularly to the belly; incapable it seems of moving. The interior of the throat is very large—capable of swallowing a man; the tongue is very small and delicate, and of a pure white colour; so are the teeth, which glisten brilliantly; and so is the whole interior. Fish are particularly attracted by their white appearance. They take it, perhaps, to be some marble hall erected for their accommodation; so in they swim, big and little squid equally beguiled! How the whale’s mouth must water when he feels a fine huge juicy octopus playing about his tongue! Up goes the lower jaw like a trap-door, and cephalapods, small and large, find their bright marble palace turned into a dark, black prison, from which there is no return; for, giving a turn with his tongue, he gulps them all down with a smack which must make old Ocean resound!

In another respect, the sperm is very different from the Greenland whale. It seems to know the power of its jaws, and will sometimes turn on its pursuers and attack them, though generally a timid animal, and disposed to seek safety by flight. The general opinion is, that sperm whales often fight with each other, as we have caught them with their lower jaws twisted in a variety of directions, and otherwise injured. The sperm whale’s eyes are very small, with movable eyelids, and are placed directly above the angle of the mouth, or a third part of its whole length distant from the snout. It is very quick-sighted, as it is also quick of hearing. Its ears—small round holes, which will not admit a little finger—are placed directly behind the eyes. The fins, which, as I have said, might be called paws, are close to the angle of the mouth. I have known a female whale support her young on them; and they are used to balance the body, to steer by, and, when hard pressed, to sink with greater rapidity below the surface. The skin of the whale is perfectly smooth, though old bulls get rough marks about them. As a rule, though black above and white below, as they advance in years, like human beings, they get grey on the head. Oftentimes an old grey-headed bull proves a dangerous enemy.

I have with greater minuteness than I intended given an account of the sperm whale. Its habits and mode of capture I will describe in the course of my narrative.

Back to IndexNext