CHAPTER XXVI.
Julian Arden was unable to continue his narrative, for the corvette had approached so close to the French coast as to require all her commander’s attention to their situation. The Onyx was hove-to till daybreak, and during the night was disguised as much as possible, so as to resemble a French vessel of war. Towards morning the tricolour was hoisted, and the vessel turned her head seaward. They were then about three leagues to the eastward of Havre. It became a fine, clear day, and before noon they beheld a fine French brig running for the port of Havre.
The captain evidently mistook the Onyx for what she was not, for he came unsuspectingly into the jaws of the lion, and when too late endeavoured to fly; but the corvette ran alongside and took possession. The brig had a rich cargo, and had, owing to the fog, escaped the several cruisers to the westward, only to become a prize in sight of her destined harbour.
“This is exactly what we wanted,” said Captain O’Loughlin to Julian Arden; “this craft will furnish you with cash andgarments suited to your purpose, and also with papers. We will select these belonging to a young seaman called Lebeau; I have looked them over. He is second mate of this brig; about your age and height. I have ordered a suit of his garments to be brought on board. The brig, with a midshipman and eight hands, I will send across Channel to Portsmouth, and land her crew some miles down along the coast. I will then put you on shore, with a supply of cash, close to Havre, where you say the Château Coulancourt is situated. With your perfect knowledge of French, you will easily pass through the country without suspicion. I shall cruise on and off this coast till I receive orders to go elsewhere. Now, should circumstances arise that might induce you to return on board, you will recognise this corvette, and any kind of signal, should we happen to be within sight, will cause me to send a boat for you.”
Julian Arden warmly thanked the kind-hearted O’Loughlin for his attention, and wish to render him service.
“You are the brother of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s protégé—that’s enough to ensure my services; and if you were not, I should still wish to serve you, now that I have the pleasure of knowing you,” replied the warm-hearted sailor, pressing the young man’s hand.
As he was to be landed the following night, Julian Arden resumed his adventures in the evening.
“We all felt relieved and highly elated on regaining our boat; well aware how difficult would have been the enterprise against John Sinclair and his associates had not the slaves broken their bondage. The cause of all this bloodshed and fury on the part of the slaves, Pompey told us, was the frightful cruelty practised upon them chiefly by John Sinclair. For the slightest offence they were flogged till they fainted, and the night the schooner stranded several tried to escape along with Pompey. In revenge for this, John Sinclair and four of his most hardened associates cruelly flogged and beat the rest, and pinched their flesh with hot pincers, and other cruelties. One of their number contrived to free his hands, and by the most incredible exertions he freed two more, and then all were untied; and setting up a yell of triumph, they broke down the sheds, seized the stakes as weapons, and fell upon their oppressors just at the very moment we happened to arrive. What became of them I know not; the schooner was entirely burned, as well as the negro village. The boat with the seamen put to sea, and were perhaps picked up, or landed farther down the coast.
“We made the best shelter we could for the rescued captives, and the next morning early embarked on the lake, and by night-fall arrived on the banks of the river without accident. The next day we reached the settlement, and were received with shouts of joy and congratulations. Colonel Packenham regained hissenses on the restoration of his beloved children, and four or five days’ rest completely restored him; a week afterwards the French ships sailed, and we all returned to the town. The inhabitants commenced at once to repair the damages committed by the French, but, unfortunately, the fever began to show itself and to spread fatally. Many were attacked and died. I had a slight seizure, but soon recovered. Miss Packenham had a severe attack, but, thank God, she recovered. One of Captain Stanhope’s daughters and poor Henry Stanhope, who so bravely helped to rescue the Misses Packenham, fell victims. So deeply anxious became the colonel to leave, that a month afterwards we all embarked in a small English brig that put in from the Cape. She was a slow sailer, and her captain a thorough seaman; but the fates were against us; to avoid falling in with any of the French cruisers, we steered a wide course. After getting a glimpse of the Spanish coast, and just as we were flattering ourselves, and on the eve of sighting the Irish coast, we were chased by a French privateer. Our poor little brig, as I said, sailed like a tub, and on receiving a shot through her mainsail hauled down her colours and backed topsails. The privateer’s boats came alongside, put a prize crew on board, but otherwise behaved extremely well; of course all the colonel’s effects and baggage became plunder, but they offered no insult to the ladies, and left them in possession of the cabin. Colonel Packenham was permitted to remain in the brig, but the captain, myself, and four of the crew were removed into the privateer. I suppressed any mention of my feelings on this untoward conclusion to our voyage; I could only press poor Cherry’s hand—the tears were in her eyes; but her brave, noble father cheered us by his example, and put faith and trust in a merciful Providence who had hitherto protected us through so many trials. The next morning a brig under French colours hove in sight. Captain Eltherme, who commanded the Sanspareil privateer, said to me—
“‘That’s a wolf in a sheep’s skin; that’s an English brig, and too strong for me.’
“How my heart beat with hope! The privateer hoisted signals, the brig answered by hoisting English colours and firing a gun. The Frenchman cursed and swore against luck, stamped upon deck, but ended by crowding sail and abandoning the prize.
“‘Ah!’ said Captain Eltherme, looking into my face, and seeing, I suppose, my delight at the colonel and his daughter’s escape, though cut to the heart at my own situation; ‘don’t you think he’s going to catch me; I have the legs of that confounded brig;’ and he had. The privateer ran into the river of Bordeaux, whilst the brig returned, and I dare say re-took the English craft.
“My prospects were now dismal in the extreme; I was taken as an Englishman, and might remain years in prison. I might be recognised as Julian Coulancourt, and then shot as a deserter from the Volentier.
“‘I tell you what, monsieur,’ said Captain Eltherme to me, ‘I’m not a bad kind of man for a privateer’s man—eh, mon garçon?’
“‘Well, no,’ I replied; ‘I have found you very kind, and you behaved generously to my friends.’
“‘Eh, bien, mon garçon, listen to me. You speak French too much like a native to be an Englishman—besides, you have something of the Frenchman about you.’ I did not consider the captain very complimentary, but I let him go on. ‘If I send you ashore with the rest, you may remain in prison for years. You speak English like a native.’
“‘I am a native,’ I exclaimed, rather vexed.
“‘Eh, bien! be it so,’ he returned. ‘Still, you can be useful to me when I capture English vessels; stay with me.’
“‘But you do not suppose, Captain Eltherme,’ I exclaimed, ‘that I am going to fight against my own countrymen?’
“‘No; mon Dieu! no,’ said he; ‘I do not want you to fight; parole d’honneur; but take my advice, and do not go to prison. I may be taken in my turn, then you will have your liberty; are you satisfied? You shall share my cabin with my officers, and no one shall insult you.’
“I consented; we shook hands; and the Sanspareil, after landing poor Captain Botten and his four men at the fort, put to sea. On board the Sanspareil I remained fourteen months. She took several valuable prizes and returned to Bordeaux, and as I gave my word not to attempt to escape, I went ashore with him. I did him, and my countrymen taken in the prizes, good service; I saved several from captivity; and, during the month we remained in Bordeaux, I was received into the captain’s family, and treated with the greatest kindness. I told him, after some months, finding him a true-hearted, kind man, who I really was, and how I was connected with one of the first families in France. We again put to sea. You may be sure, though I really wished no misfortune to occur to my worthy skipper, I still looked forward to a change of fortune. The Sanspareil was a splendid sailing vessel, and nearly two hundred and fifty tons burden, with a fine crew; but her career was drawing to a close. We left Bordeaux for a cruise in the Channel; we were but three days out when we encountered one of the most tremendous gales, the captain said, he had ever witnessed. Every sail we attempted to set was blown into ribbons, whilst a tremendous sea cleared our decks of boats and every inch of bulwark. Our rigging snapped like whipcord, and, finally, ourmain-mast went over the side, carrying with it three of the crew; so we drove up Channel under our fore-mast without a rag on it. The sea was awful to look at, and the weather so thick that we expected each moment, ignorant of where we were, to run ashore. At length, under a deluge of rain, the wind shifted to the nor’-west, and at break of day the sky suddenly cleared, and to the captain’s consternation we found ourselves within gun-shot of an English frigate, under storm staysails. English colours were shown on our fore-mast, but the Sanspareil was well known, and considered too great a pest to be spared; and the ship, as we shot close by, lifted on a huge billow, hailed through a speaking trumpet, ordering us to heave-to, or she would sink us. Captain Eltherme, even in that tremendous sea, sought to escape; and with great bravery—for heave-to he could not—lowered the English flag, and hoisted the tricolor. He imagined in that boiling sea the English frigate would never open fire, but she did; the iron shower passed over without injury to us; but another, as the frigate paid off, gave us our death wound, the shot going into our side as we rolled over on a cross sea. Some accident evidently happened to the frigate, for instead of following us she again bore up in the wind, whilst we contrived to set a stay-sail on the fore-mast, and then bore away for the French coast; but we soon found that the pumps would not keep the vessel free, neither could the carpenters plug the shot-hole in the breaking seas. Just as the sun was setting, and we were fast settling in the water, we came up with the French frigate Prudente lying to. Signals of distress were hoisted, and as we passed under her stern, we stated we were sinking. With immense difficulty, and by almost incredible exertions with hawsers and barrels, for no boat could live, we were all taken out except nine, who went down with the unfortunate Sanspareil. It was five days after this that the Prudente was encountered by you, Captain O’Loughlin. Determined to be free or perish, I rushed up the rigging, and, thank God! succeeded in reaching this ship in safety. I have now brought, I fear, my tedious narrative, to which you have listened with patience, to a close.”
“Well, by Jove, my dear young friend, you have had your share of trials for one so young. Your narrative has greatly interested me, and now that you have finished, I will give you some intelligence that will, I know, gratify you. When the Vengeance foundered, on the 1st of June, in the engagement with Lord Howe’s fleet, the English boats saved many lives. Captain Renaudin was picked up by one boat, and his gallant little son by another. Each thought the other lost, when, to their intense joy, they again met in Portsmouth.”
“How rejoiced I am to hear this intelligence!” said JulianArden, “for a nobler or braver spirit never breathed than Captain Renaudin.”
“He has been done justice to, I assure you. Our papers of that time gave the full particulars of the foundering of the Vengeance, and of the father and son’s reunion. The next piece of news I have to tell you is, that not very long ago I saw an article in theTimesnewspaper, announcing the appointment of a Lieutenant-General Packenham to the command of the garrison at Plymouth, mentioning the gallant services of the general whilst in India. I have no doubt but that this Lieutenant-General Packenham is the same Colonel Packenham you knew.”
“I dare say it is,” returned Julian, “and I trust time has not obliterated from Miss Packenham’s mind all memory of my unfortunate self.”
“Say fortunate, my dear young friend, for you have been providentially saved during severe trials. Do not, like most lovers absent from their charmers, give way to imaginary evils. ‘Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.’”