CHAPTER II.
In the month of August the British fleet, under Lord Hood, arrived before the port of Toulon. Two commissioners from the Royalist party came on board the Victory, to treat for the surrender of the port and shipping to the British. William Thornton’s favorite companion amongst the mids was a youth named Charles Pole, a fine spirited lad of his own age. They were leaning over the bulwarks, gazing at the boats rowing aboard with the two commissioners, and then a look was cast at the bold high land of Cape Cesi, and the entrance to the noble gulf of Toulon.
“I wish they would commence hammering away at those grim looking forts on the heights,” said Charles Pole to his comrade, “I’m tired of doing nothing.”
“Il dolce far niente,” said William Thornton, “the Italian’s supreme delight, that and serenading his lady love by the light of a bright moon.”
“Oh! wait a bit, my beauties,” said O’Loughlin, joining them, “you won’t talk of thedolce far nientein a day or two, for it’s all up with negotiations. We shall have those grimforts talking to us shortly, and faith, I’m longing myself to have a bout with those republican bloodhounds.”
O’Loughlin was right in his conjectures. Lord Hood, in great perplexity as to the intentions of the royalist party, resolved upon the hazardous experiment of sending an officer into the town to ascertain how matters stood, being aware that Rear-Admiral St. Julian with the bulk of the French fleet sided with the Republicans.
This perilous expedition was confided to the judgment and courage of Lieutenant Edward Cooke, who was to select a midshipman to accompany him.
“Take Thornton, Cooke,” said O’Loughlin, “that’s the lad for the work; as courageous as a lion and as cool as a lettuce. Do you remember how he behaved in the affair off Cadiz? If you come back safe, which I predict you will, it will be a feather in his cap.”
“The very one I would have selected,” said Lieutenant Cooke; “but he’s too young to run the gauntlet through the French fleet; it’s almost a pity.”
To the great delight of Thornton he was selected.
“I think,” said Howard Etherton, with a malicious grin, and giving his chum Dykes a poke in the ribs, “I think we shall be one less in our mess by this time to-morrow. I suppose he will leave his kit to you, Pole?”
“I hope he will live to break your head yet,” said Charles Pole, with a look of contempt as he walked on.
“Thank you, Master Pole; we shall not forget that,” bawled out Howard Etherton.
A remarkably fast gig was selected to take the Lieutenant and his young companion, and eight picked men, Saunders, the top-man, being one of them. It was ten o’clock at night when the gig left the side of the ship. It was blowing very fresh, and, considering the time of year, extremely dark. Our hero was steering.
“Now, William,” said the Lieutenant, “keep her away for the high land, yonder; and when we come abreast of the ships, steer boldly right into the midst of them.”
After entering the harbour, our hero could see the light on the dockyard pier plain enough; and he knew from drafts and maps every inch of the outward and inner harbour, whilst the Committee-General were aware of the intended attempt to communicate with them.
The boat flew through the water, under the strokes of eight vigorous oarsmen, and passed close under the stern of a huge hundred-and-twenty-gun ship, which they knew was the Commerce de Marseilles. There were eighteen or more ships moored in two lines, with a considerable space between, throughwhich the light boat was impelled rapidly, and without even a challenge from any of the ships. It was evidently taken for one of their own boats. William Thornton steered steadily for the jetty, which was known to be in the hands of the royalist party. In a few minutes they were alongside the pier, which was crowded with persons of all grades and denominations, the soldiers on duty finding it almost impossible to keep them back. A naval officer came to the side of the boat, and addressed Lieutenant Cooke, saying—
“You have done a daring feat, monsieur; and, fortunately, you have succeeded. I am desired to let you know that until to-morrow morning you cannot land. It would be dangerous.”
“Very good,” said Lieutenant Cooke. “We can pass the rest of the night in our boat-cloaks.”
“Wine and refreshments,” continued the officer, “shall be sent to you for yourself and men; and I pray you, monsieur, not to feel aggrieved at this delay; it is unavoidable.”
Ere half-an-hour had elapsed a large hamper was handed on board the boat, and then they were told to pull off from the jetty, and make fast to one of the buoys, which they did.
“Come my lads,” said Lieutenant Cooke, “rip up the hamper, and let us feel the contents if we can’t see them; we shall not require light to appease our hunger.”
William Thornton was delighted with the excitement of the affair. They could hear the various sounds from the interior of the town; loud shouts and cries, and all the noises attending the assembly of a number of people in the street; but all was perfectly quiet within the dockyard and basin. Not a boat passed in or out, and the crowd, a while back standing on the jetty, were all put outside the gates, and only the sentries remained, walking backwards and forwards on their watch.
The hamper contained a dozen of wine, a couple of fowls, and a ham, with abundance of bread.
“Well, by Jove, William, this is not bad; I suppose you expected a mess of frogs, or some other outlandish dish, eh?”
“I prefer the half of a fowl, I confess,” returned our hero, pulling out his knife to commence operations; “though frogs may not be such a bad dish as we may imagine.”
“Oh, confound their frogs!” said the Lieutenant, drawing a cork out of one of the bottles. “By Jupiter! there’s neither cup nor glass of any kind.”
“Here’s a horn, your honour,” said one of the men; “I brought it, thinking it might serve a turn somehow if we got anything better than water.”
“You’re a thoughtful man, Saunders,” said the Lieutenant; “hand it here,” and giving it a rinse first with water and then with wine, he filled himself a bumper and tossed it off. “GoodBordeaux, by Jove! and no mistake. Come, these fellows know what’s good.”
“There’s a row in the town, Mr. Cooke,” said the midshipman; “you can hear them rioting very distinctly.”
“Those cursed, bloodthirsty Republicans trying to cut the throats of the Royalists, I suppose,” returned the Lieutenant; “and that’s the reason they would not let us land during the tumult. We shall have to remain here till to-morrow night, as we cannot attempt to pass the ships in the broad daylight.”
Telling the men to help themselves to the remains of the fowl and ham, and letting them have a couple of bottles of wine between them, a regular watch having been set, the Lieutenant and midshipman wrapped themselves up in their boat-cloaks, and reclined on the thwarts, conversing together till they dropped off into a short slumber. William Thornton slept an hour or two, and then, waking, sat up; the Lieutenant was fast asleep, and so were the men, excepting the two that kept watch. The night was still extremely dark, but as our hero sat gazing over the dark water, looking at the huge dismasted hulls of some unfinished war vessels, he thought he heard at a little distance a splashing in the water, like a person swimming.
“Do you see anything in the water, right ahead, Saunders?” asked the midshipman to one of the watch, stooping down low as he spoke, and looking along the surface of the water.
“I thought as how I heard a noise, sir,” said the man; “and I think I see a dark object moving towards us.”
“So do I now,” returned William Thornton; “it is a man swimming. Hush! do not make a noise, one man cannot hurt us.”
Bill Saunders put down the boat-stretcher he had taken up with the laudable intention of hitting the swimmer over the head, and the next moment a man swam up alongside, stripped all to his drawers, holding up his hand and requesting them to make no noise. He seized the gunnel of the boat, and Saunders and the other men being roused helped him in. The heeling over of the boat rolled Lieutenant Cooke off the thwart, who immediately sprang up, saying—
“Hollo, William! what’s in the wind now?”
Our hero told him that a man had swum alongside with a letter in his cap for the English officer, and that they had taken him on board. Fortunately, both Lieutenant Cooke and Thornton spoke French fluently.
“Well, monsieur,” said the Lieutenant, looking at the Frenchman in the dim light, and taking the letter, “I cannot read this till daylight; tell me, if you please, what it is about, and what has induced you to incur so great a risk.”
“I have undertaken this adventure, monsieur,” returned thestranger, “to serve a most persecuted lady, a countrywoman of yours, and of high rank in this country. She is even now concealed in the vaults of a house in the Rue Province. She escaped from the fearful massacres of Lyons in a miraculous manner, even when brought out with her young daughter to be shot, by order of that infernal monster Collet de Herbois.”
Lieutenant Cooke and the midshipman listened to the stranger’s account with considerable interest, and no little surprise. Our hero had lent the stranger his boat-cloak, and given him a small quantity of brandy, and Lieutenant Cooke then said—
“May I ask, monsieur, who you are, that have so generously perilled your life to serve this lady?”
“I was, monsieur, the intendant of the husband of Madame la Duchesse, her second husband, who alas! perished with many other loyal noblemen in defending his unfortunate king. Her first husband was an English gentleman of the name of Arden, perhaps you may know the name, the Duchess’s daughter is by her first husband.”
“The Ardens are an old and wealthy family,” said Lieutenant Cooke; “but I do not know them. I should be delighted to serve this unfortunate lady and her daughter, but you see, I am now employed upon a most important mission, and dare not depart from my instructions, or take part in any private affair. Nevertheless, some effort must be made to rescue this lady; but could she not trust herself to the Royalist party in Toulon; they are strong, are they not?”
“No, in truth, monsieur, they are not, as I fear the result will show. Madame la Duchesse is, I am satisfied, closely sought after. She trusted herself to the Royalists of Lyons, and would, but for my assistance, have perished. Once known to in be Toulon, she would be sacrificed long before she could be got on board the British fleet.”
Lieutenant Cooke thought for a moment and then said—
“To-morrow morning I am to meet the Committee-General, respecting the surrender of the town and ships. If the town is given up, madame and her daughter will be instantly placed in safety. But as this may not happen, could not you, monsieur, conduct this young gentleman,” putting his hand on the midshipman’s shoulder, “to-morrow morning to where madame is concealed? He may be able, by conversing with her, to plan some method of getting her and her daughter to the sea-shore of the outer harbour by to-morrow night, for we cannot leave in the day-time, and thus, as we pass out, we may be enabled to take them on board.”
“That is a very good idea of yours, monsieur,” said the Frenchman; “therefore, if this young gentleman comes onshore to-morrow morning, I will secretly watch for his landing, and as you all proceed through the streets to the Committee-General’s, I will contrive to attract his attention; then if he will follow me at a short distance, I will introduce him to madame.”
“Very good,” said William Thornton, “I will keep a sharp look-out for you, and if you hold up your hand it will be sufficient.”
“How far have you to swim?” questioned Lieutenant Cooke.
“Not very far, monsieur,” said the stranger; “there is no boom across the basin, and once outside, I land where I left my garments.”
The Frenchman thanked the Lieutenant for his courtesy, slipped over the side, and noiselessly made his way through the still waters of the basin, and was soon lost to sight.