CHAPTER V.
In less than an hour the boat ranged up alongside of the huge Victory, towering above them in the dim light like a mighty fortress, her lofty masts being clearly defined in the clear blue sky. Mabel was in trembling agitation as to what would be done with her, her little heart beating with anxiety.
“You cannot take this child away to-night,” said Lieutenant Cooke to our hero, “you had better place her under the care of the steward; he is a steady, middle-aged man, and very kind-hearted. He will put her in his own berth, and to-morrow I will speak to the Admiral about her. It’s a strange adventure altogether.”
They ascended the side of the ship, Bill Saunders carrying Mabel in his arms as tenderly as an infant. The next moment the little girl found herself standing on the deck of the Victory.
The sight of this monstrous ship, her huge masts towering to the sky, the lights here and there flashing from the battle-lanterns, showed to the astonished child many incomprehensible things. The groups of hardy tars hovering round filled the mind of the young girl with awe, and, trembling and dismayed, she grasped her young protector’s arm, and gazed up into his face with her large, intelligent eyes, so full of all her little heart felt, that William Thornton began to feel almost as much as she did.
Lieutenant Cooke returned with the steward.
“Now, my dear child,” said the officer, “we place you for the night under the care of the steward, he will show you every attention. He is a father himself, and will feel for you as for one of his own children in a like situation.”
“To-morrow,” whispered the midshipman, “you will be placed under the care of a kind lady and her daughters.”
Poor Mabel, scarcely able to keep from weeping, kissed the midshipman’s hand, and bade him good-night in a voice that trembled with emotion, and then Mr. Osborn, the steward, took her under his care.
William Thornton, who never quitted his hold of the casket, proceeded to his berth, and locked it up carefully in his chest. Several of his comrades tormented him with inquiries, but hastily swallowing his supper and a glass of grog, he tumbled into his berth, turning a deaf ear to all their questions.
Midshipmen always sleep under every variety of disturbance, either of body or mind; so William Thornton slept in ten minutes as if he had not had a night’s rest for twelve months.
How long he rested he knew not, but he was awoke by thevoice of Charles Pole shouting in his ear, “You are wanted, William, in the state room.”
He sprang out of bed, and began dressing as if for a wager.
“Why did you let me sleep so long, Charley, eh?”
“Because Lieutenant Cooke said you wanted a good snooze, as you had none the night before. Why, Thornton, you are likely to turn out quite a hero of romance; there’s Saunders been spinning a frightful yarn of your having shot a lot of Republicans and released two princesses, and I don’t know how many duchesses, and gained a casket of crown jewels.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Charley. I’m off. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back. I’ll get Saunders’ grog stopped for spinning such confounded yarns,” and running up the stairs, he made his way towards the Admiral’s state room, but O’Loughlin interrupted his course, shaking him by the hand.
“Faith, you’re a broth of a boy, William, to be galivanting duchesses and distressed damsels before you are fledged. Go on and prosper, by the time your beard grows you’ll do. But be off with you, and mind your P’s and Q’s before the Admiral.”
He next encountered Lieutenant Cooke coming from the Admiral’s cabin.
“Well, Thornton,” said the Lieutenant, good-humouredly, “how do you feel now? Your littleprotégéehas been making a hundred inquiries after you; she is sitting at breakfast with his lordship, who, strange to say, after listening to her account of herself, seems to know a great deal about her family. But go in, they are waiting for you.”
The young midshipman entered the Admiral’s state room, and at once perceived little Mabel sitting at the breakfast table with the kind-hearted old Admiral. On his entrance she sprang from her chair with an exclamation of joy, and ran to him, taking his hand, saying—
“Oh! dear brother William, how glad I am to see you! if my dear mamma were here how happy I should feel!” and then with childish innocence, quite ignorant of the etiquette between an Admiral and a midshipman, she added, “have you breakfasted? Do come and have some, his lordship is so kind to me, and knows who I am.”
William Thornton’s face flushed as he looked into the Admiral’s fine expressive features, and Lord Hood, who was then in his sixty-ninth year, said with a good-humoured smile—
“Sit down, Master Thornton, sit down; I dare say you have not breakfasted, and I wish to ask you a few questions.”
William Thornton sat down next Mabel, eyeing a cold turkey and a ham with a side glance. The steward was in attendance as well as the Admiral’s own special attendant, andvery shortly our hero found himself doing justice to fare very rarely in those days exposed to the always voracious appetite of a midshipman.
He then, at the Admiral’s request, gave a distinct account of the events of the previous night, to which the Admiral listened with a great deal of interest expressed on his features.
“If I am not very much mistaken,” said Lord Hood, “this young lady is the daughter of a once very dear friend, though a much younger man than myself at the time of our intimacy. Do you remember your father, my dear young lady?” asked the Admiral, looking at Mabel.
“No, monsieur,” said Mabel; “I only remember my second father, the Duke; he was so good and so kind, and so loved mamma.”
“This young lady,” continued Lord Hood, “is, no doubt, the daughter of Hugh Granby Arden, whose widow I know married a French duke. I believe she was induced to do so under very peculiar circumstances. If I am right, her daughter is a cousin of Master Howard Etherton.”
William Thornton started and looked surprised.
“Ah!” said the Admiral, “I see you are not aware that Howard Etherton’s father, before he came to the title and estates of the Ethertons, was called Arden; in fact, he was brother to this young lady’s father. However, there is no time, neither is this a period for investigating these circumstances. What we must now do, is to procure a suitable asylum for Miss Arden till she can be restored to her mother, or taken to England and placed under the care of her uncle. Therefore, you will at once take her on board the Thetis frigate, Captain Timmins has his wife and daughters with him. His good lady will take charge of the child, and provide her with proper garments; one of his girls is about the same age. But stay! I will write a few lines to Captain Timmins; he will remain with the fleet till we take possession of Toulon, which I expect to do in a few days.”
The young girl got up, and going over to the Admiral, took his hand, and would have kissed it, but he stooped and pressed her little pale cheek, saying he felt much interested about her, and would, when he had an opportunity, cause inquiries to be made after her mother.
An hour afterwards William Thornton, with Mabel by his side, was steering the Victory’s gig, pulled by four seamen, for the Thetis frigate.
Captain Timmins was an exceedingly kind man, and a thorough good sailor. Nevertheless, we must admit, though nominated captain of his ship, as long as his wife remained on board he was only second in command. He was a small, spareman, with a mild, patient expression of countenance. Mrs. Captain Timmins (she always insisted on being styled captain, firmly believing that if necessary she could command, and actually work the Thetis) was in person the very opposite of her spouse, being tall and portly in person; carried her head high, and always interlarded her conversations with sea terms, not always, however, made use of in the right places. Notwithstanding a few follies of this sort, she was in reality a very kind and generous person; she was not more than five or six-and-thirty, and had a very pleasing countenance. She was also fond of dress.
It was a fine, lovely morning, though somewhat hot, the quarter-decks of the various ships were protected by snow-white awnings. A light westerly breeze played over the bright blue sea, the high land to the south and east of Toulon looked almost within grasp, so clear and fine was the atmosphere.
Mrs. Captain Timmins was walking the quarter-deck with her two daughters, her worthy spouse looking through his glass at the various ships of war.
“What boat is that pulling for us, Timmins?” asked the Captain’s lady.
“It’s a gig from the Victory, with a mid and a little boy in it,” said the Captain.
“Bless me!” returned the lady, “what little fellow can that be, the Victory has no little boys on board?”
“We shall soon know,” replied her spouse, “for here they are alongside.”
The ladder was let down, and, leading Mabel by the hand, William Thornton advanced along the deck of the Thetis, and touching his cap to the Captain, presented the Admiral’s note.
In the meantime the mother and daughters were scrutinising the pale and thin face of poor, sad little Mabel.
“Dear me! Very singular—very; quite romantic. Poor little thing!” muttered Captain Timmins, quite loud enough for his good lady and daughters to hear.
“Mary, my dear,” he said aloud, finishing the perusal of the note from the Admiral, “his lordship has sent this little girl,” looking at Mabel, “to stay with us for a few days.”
“Bless me!” said the Captain’s wife, “little girl! Do you mean to say this little thin boy is a girl?—if so, she is badly rigged, not ship-shape.”
“Exactly, my dear, exactly. The Admiral wishes you to make her ship-shape, and be kind to her for a few days. She is the daughter of a duchess, and fled from Toulon for her life, and this young gentleman—Master Thornton—was mainly instrumental in saving her life.”
“If she were the daughter of a peasant,” said the ladywith a grand air, but a most kind look, as she advanced and took Mabel’s hand, “being unfortunate, she demands our attention, under the flag of old England. Beg pardon, my dear; do you speak English?” asked Mrs. Captain Timmins, afraid that the fine speech she was about to make would be only for the edification of her husband, the second Lieutenant of the Thetis, who was standing near, and a solitary mid, who was regarding Mrs. Captain Timmins at a safe distance, for it must be confessed she kept the mids in awful subjection.
“Oh, yes, madame,” said Mabel; “my father was English, and so is mamma.”
“Dear me!” said the Captain’s wife, surprised, “an English duchess amongst those horrid Republicans; but come into my state room, Angelina and Seraphina are about the same height, and you shall be thoroughly re-fitted and rigged from their stores.” Then, looking into the thoughtful, handsome features of William Thornton, whose fine, manly figure struck her at once, she continued: “And you, young gentleman, accompany us. I will order the steward to place refreshments on the table; you will then tell me all about this dear, sensible-looking child, whom I wish to present to you before you leave, in a trim more becoming her age and sex.”
Taking Mabel by the hand, the entire party descended into the main cabin. The two girls then took their young companion into their private cabin, and the Captain and his lady, having ordered wine to be placed on the table, requested our hero to satisfy their curiosity respecting his adventures the preceding night.
Whilst the midshipman was satisfying their curiosity, little Mabel was undergoing the necessary metamorphosis from a little boy into a very sweet, interesting little girl. Captain Timmins’s two daughters were kind and engaging, and they soon succeeded in winning the confidence of our poor heroine. When introduced into the cabin, all were delighted with the change. Thornton was surprised, and soon after rose to take leave of his littleprotegée. The tears were in Mabel’s eyes, but she bore the parting with fortitude, for the midshipman promised to visit her whenever he could. It was not without pain that he kissed her cheek and bade her farewell.
Returning on board the Victory, Thornton’s comrades gathered around him, fully determined to hear his adventures in full.
“What a racket they all make,” observed Master Etherton, with a sneer, “about a brat of a girl, because she calls herself the daughter of a duchess—a French duchess. There are no titles in France now—an adventuress, most likely.”
“You are very likely to make a very great mistake, HowardEtherton,” remarked our hero, quietly; “this child is an English girl, and, I am told, bears the same name as your father did before he took that of Etherton.”
“What’s that you say, Master Thornton?” exclaimed young Etherton, with a start, and changing colour. “My father’s name was Arden—as good a name as any in England; but we knew of no other branch of our family bearing that name.”
“You are in error, nevertheless, Master Etherton,” returned our hero, “for this young lady’s mother, the Duchesse de Coulancourt, had previously been married to a Mr. Granby Arden; the Admiral knew him intimately, and this little girl we are talking about is his child, Mabel Arden.”
“A confounded impostor!” passionately exclaimed young Etherton, with a very pale cheek, and with a vehemence that quite amazed his comrades. “Mr. Granby Arden was my father’s brother. He was never married, and died abroad; so that, as I said before, this duchess is an impostor, and her daughter a nameless brat, thrust upon you, seeing what a soft head you possessed,” and he laughed mockingly as he said the words.
“I have a great mind to try,” said William Thornton, angrily, “whether your head possesses the same qualification that I know your heart does; and if you use such language again in my hearing I will do so, let the consequences be what they may. I have done it once before, but if I have to repeat the lesson you will remember it.”
“Be the powers of war! what’s all this squabbling amongst you unruly youngsters?” exclaimed Lieutenant O’Loughlin, who, unobserved, had heard the whole dialogue, and who knew very well that if our hero promised a fellow mid a thrashing, he would faithfully stick to his word. Now the Admiral was extremely strict with his midshipmen, and always severely punished both parties who infringed the rules. Fighting was on no account allowed.
“Well, Mr. O’Loughlin,” said William Thornton, “what would you have me do? Here is a young lady, protected by the Admiral, who was an intimate friend of her father’s, and Master Etherton takes it into his head to call her mother an impostor, and herself a nameless brat.”
“Oh, by the Immortals! he’ll put his foot in it in earnest,” said the Lieutenant; and, turning to the cowed Howard Etherton, he added, “Faith, my lad, you must have more pluck than I ever gave you credit for, thus to give the lie to his lordship.”
“I did not give the lie, Mr. O’Loughlin,” said Howard Etherton, “to anybody. I spoke to the best of my belief. I ought to know more of my family than any one here.”
“Bedad, you’re right there, my lad; for the devil a hairany one here cares for your family. You may be cousin-German to Master Noah, for all I know; but, if the Admiral knew that a young lady he acknowledges and protects was called an impostor and a brat, be gor! I wouldn’t be in your skin for a trifle. But come with me, William; I want to talk to you a bit;” and, taking the midshipman by the arm, he forced him to leave his companions.
At the expiration of two or three days, the British fleet became in a state of intense expectation and excitement, the Admiral having determined to land troops and take possession of the forts commanding the ships in the harbour; for intelligence had arrived of the surrender of Marseilles to General Carteau and his army, whilst Rear-Admiral St. Julian manned the forts to the left of the harbour to oppose the entrance of the British fleet.
Captain Elphinstone, of the Robust, was entrusted with the command of the expedition against the forts, with fifteen hundred soldiers and two hundred marines and sailors; Lieutenant O’Loughlin and our hero being permitted by the Admiral to volunteer on that expedition. This was the third time William Thornton was exposed to the fire of an enemy’s guns.
It was not without a quicker pulsation of the heart, both from the excitement and the novelty of the affair, that young Thornton leaped from the boat upon the beach, and gazed up at the heights of Toulon that they were to storm, which were full six hundred feet high, rugged, and, to judge from the crumbling of the rocks under their feet, extremely difficult of ascent.
“Hurrah! by dad!” said Lieutenant O’Loughlin to his young companion, the midshipman, “this is one foot forward and two backwards. By the powers! I was near going with that big fellow,” as a huge rock gave way under his feet, and thundered down with a cloud of dust upon those following, forcing them to jump nimbly out of the way.
The forts, keeping up an incessant cannonade, killed and wounded many; but still the hardy sailors pressed onwards with incessant cheering; at times gaily laughing as a comrade clutched at a rock which gave way, and he and it rolled down together for several yards.
“You’re a trump, William,” said the Lieutenant, as a ball tore up the ground within a yard of the daring boy, who, with a bound, sprang over a deep fissure, and waved his cap to some of the tars of the Victory to follow, whilst a cloud of dust, stones, and gravel covered the ascending party. But the forts were gallantly stormed, and, after a fierce contest, the British remained in possession.
“You are a brave and gallant lad,” said Captain Elphinstone, putting his hand upon young Thornton’s shoulder, as,besmeared with dust and clay, without covering to the head, and his jacket cut in several places by musket balls, he made his appearance before the Captain, having just returned from bearing a message to the officer commanding the troops through a fierce fire of musketry—“Go on as you have begun, and, if God spares you, you will be an honour to your country.”
It was a glorious sight, the following day, standing on the ramparts of the fort, to behold the entrance of the British fleet into the outward harbour of Toulon, where they came to an anchor.