CHAPTER XXXII.
Lieutenant Thornton and Bill Saunders reached the sand hills without meeting a single person, or, as they thought, without attracting the notice of any one; but they were mistaken. As they crossed the sand hills, every now and then the bare head of a lad, some fourteen years of age, popped up from behind a hill, and regarded earnestly their progress, following them carefully, and concealing himself in the hollows and thick rushes, in the damp places. They had scarcely reached the rocks, and climbed nearly to the summit, when the loud boom of a heavy gun reverberated along the cliffs.
“Blow me!” exclaimed Bill, springing over some rocks, “there’s a frigate’s gun; it was quite close under the cliffs.”
The next moment the top-gallant sails of a ship of war showed above the head, but they could not make out the vessel, for, though her topsails were plainly visible, she was full a mile off shore; and our hero and Bill were in a hollow—they perceived a gig, with four oars, and a young lad in the stern-sheets, pulling out from under the head.
“English! hurrah!” exclaimed Bill, with a cheer that pealed over the sea, and reached the ears of those in the boat. The men rested on their oars, and Bill waved a red flag, which he had brought in his pocket, in the air. Instantly another flag was waved from the boat, and her head turned for the beach.
“Hurrah!” again shouted Bill, and both he and Lieutenant Thornton made for the beach; but as they came out from the hollow, and reached the foot of a deep descent, a loud voice from above hailed, in French—
“Stand, or we fire.”
Our hero looked up, and beheld more than a dozen men in uniform, some fifty yards above them, with muskets pointed directly at them.
“Spring over the cliff, Bill, or we’re dead men;” and, with a bound, he threw himself over, instantly followed by Saunders. As they did so, a volley of musketry rattled over the spot, andshattered portions of the rock on which, a moment before, they had been standing.
A man sprang up amongst the gendarmes—it was Augustine Vadier—who, shaking his clenched hand fiercely, exclaimed to the men, “Reload, or, curse them, they will escape, and then follow them.”
The two Englishmen rolled over the ascent, with fragments of rock and red earth clattering down with them, for ten or fifteen yards. Unfortunately, a huge fragment of rock struck our hero on the head, leaving him totally senseless at the foot of the descent. Bill picked himself up, a little bewildered by the rapidity of their descent, but, seeing his master senseless, he gave a shout of rage, and cast back a look of vengeance on the gendarmes scrambling down the rocks; but the men in the boat shouted loudly, “Quick, quick; to the beach.”
Lifting the senseless body of his master, Bill, with a desperate energy, rushed toward the spot where the boat had run right in on the beach. Another volley, the balls rattling all round him, expedited Bill’s movements; but a powerful ally had now come to his aid—the corvette had opened the scene of action; a flash, a wreath of smoke, and then the iron messenger struck the cliff above, scattering the splinters of the rocks into the very faces of the pursuing gendarmes. Augustine Vadier was struck to the earth by a huge splinter of stone in the right eye. The men threw themselves back and lay flat under the rocks, for another gun pealed over the quiet sea, and the iron storm—for this time it was grape—tore up the rocks within ten paces of the Frenchmen, which made them spring to their legs and retreat down the other side of the cliff, dragging the bleeding and furious Augustine Vadier with them.
In the meantime Bill reached the boat, panting with exertion, and two of the men, leaping into the water, ran to his assistance.
“Not dead, I trust,” cried the midshipman, gazing at the still insensible body of our hero, as the men placed him in the bottom of the boat, on a sail.
“Dead!” shrieked Bill, gasping for breath; “if he’s dead, blow my brains out, and I’ll thank you! I don’t care a curse to live if the lubbers have shot the bravest officer that ever breathed,” he continued, the heat-drops pouring down his face, and his emotion blinding him.
“No, thank God! he is not dead,” said the young midshipman, as the boat pulled towards the corvette; “he is bleeding from a cut on the side of the head; but who is he, and who are you, my man? I thought this gentleman was Mr. Julian Arden.”
“Not dead? hurrah!” exclaimed Bill, tossing his cap intothe air; “give us your fin; blow me, but you’re a fine lad. Lord love ye! I’m a true salt, though you do see me rigged in this hermaphrodite fashion. That’s Lieutenant Thornton—bless him! he’s coming to—and I’m Bill Saunders. Both of us belong to the old Diamond, and if that ere craft is the Onyx, her commander will be as glad to see Lieutenant Thornton as his own brother.”
“You are right, my fine fellow,” answered the young midshipman; “Captain O’Loughlin would give his life at any time to serve this gentleman. See, he is recovering fast,” watching Bill wash the blood from the cut and bathe his master’s face; “he was only stunned.”
“It’s all right! Blow me, if I ain’t as glad as if a ship’s anchor was taken off my breast,” said Bill, as the boat shot up alongside the Onyx corvette—Commander O’Loughlin, Lieutenant Pole, and a number of the crew, crowding and gazing over the bulwarks eagerly.
“Who have you there, Master Burdett?” inquired O’Loughlin, anxiously; “not Mr. Julian Arden wounded, I trust.”
“No, sir,” said the midshipman, “it’s Lieutenant Thornton.”
“What! Sir Oscar de Bracy!” vehemently exclaimed the commander, springing over the side into the boat, with an expression of deep emotion in his manner and voice.
Our hero just then opened his eyes, and made an effort to get up.
“Thank God, he is only stunned,” said O’Loughlin, joyfully, as his friend gazed into his face, with a smile, saying, in a low voice—
“Not the first knock on the head, Patrick, I have had; I am not much hurt; where is Bill, Bill Saunders—you remember him?”
“Here, your honour, here, thank God! and your honour’s nothing the worse. The lubbers thought to pepper us, but his honour, Captain O’Loughlin, gave them a dose they didn’t like to stay to have repeated.”
“My fine fellow, I am glad to see you,” said the commander of the Onyx, shaking Bill’s hand as warmly as he would have done that of a friend; “I thought if ever one was heard of, the other would not be far off.”
With the assistance of Charles Pole, our hero was conveyed into the cabin, and the surgeon proceeded to dress the wound in the head, which he pronounced to be extremely trifling; the point of the rock inflicting the wound had not caused the insensibility, but a blow against a flat rock, at the bottom of the descent.
A glass or two of wine seemed to revive Lieutenant Thornton,and with his return to consciousness, he began to experience great anxiety respecting Mabel and her mother, lest they might be implicated by this untoward event. Were they all discovered? or were the men that surprised and fired upon him and Bill, only watching the movements of those in the boat? but this latter idea was discarded, for by the shouts and words of the gendarmes, they were evidently watching his own and Bill’s movements, and not the corvette’s.
“In the name of fate, Sir Oscar,” said Commander O’Loughlin, as soon as he perceived his friend sufficiently restored to talk, “in the name of fate, how came you on this part of the coast? Do you know who I thought you were?”
“Oh, yes, quite well, Patrick; you took me for Julian Arden,” returned our hero; “he and I have, these last four or five days, been daily watching you from Lyon Head.”
“Be the powers of war! but this is very extraordinary. I was lying-to yesterday, after tracing a brig into some creek off this head, and this morning I sent young Burdett in the gig to see if he could make out the mouth of a creek or inlet of the sea I knew to be somewhere near where I picked you up; and as I was passing my glass along the cliff, I caught sight of a party of armed men, passing along the outward face of the head; the sun was glancing on their muskets and accoutrements, so I fired a gun to bring the boat back. I beheld the men disappear round the point, and shortly after, as we stood on and opened the other side, we saw the flash of their muskets, whilst pursuing you, as it turned out; so I let fly a shot to freshen their way, for I thought the fugitive might be Julian Arden. But how you came to be there with Bill Saunders, amazes me; did you escape out of prison?”
“Thank God, I have not been in one since I left the Diamond; poor Sidney Smith, and young Wright, were marched off to Paris. But, my dear friend, I am in a dreadful state of anxiety; I must get ashore again to-night.”
“Faith, that would be madness,” said Captain O’Loughlin; “the whole coast will be roused, and a keen watch kept for miles along the beach.”
Our hero looked deeply distressed; after a moment he said—
“Do you know that that infernal privateer, the Vengeance, that caused the captivity of Sir Sidney Smith, is actually at anchor within the creek you mentioned just now?”
“The devil she is! then, by the powers of Moll Kelly! I’ll cut her out or burn her.”
“She’ll never burn,” returned our hero, bitterly; “though I was deuced near burning in her; but to make you up to the thing, give me another glass of wine; I’m as well now as ever I was; and if we are to have the task of cutting out thisVengeance, it must be done to-night, or not at all, for if we delay, they will work her some miles up the creek.”
Lieutenant Thornton then gave his friend a brief but clear account of what had befallen him from the period of Sir Sidney Smith’s attempting to cut out the Vengeance from the port of Havre, to his arrival on board the corvette.
“Well, by the immortal powers! you amaze me. Mabel in France, and Madame Coulancourt and her son Julian restored to each other! How far is the château from the coast?”
“Fully six miles.”
“Then we must have the privateer this very night; there’s a breeze off the land; let me see, it will be high water about eleven o’clock; there’s no moon, and it’s cloudy; but do you feel strong enough for the exertion?”
“Strong enough!” repeated Lieutenant Thornton; “there’s nothing the matter with me; it was only the suddenness and violence of the blow that caused insensibility; but I rejoice to say that’s quite gone now.”
“How many men do you think there are on board the Vengeance?” questioned O’Loughlin.
“I counted fourteen or fifteen the day before yesterday; there may be three or four more. There is an armed brig in the creek.”
“What! an hermaphrodite brig, with a great rake in her main-mast, and a red streak, and pierced for eight guns?”
“By Jove! I think so; she is an hermaphrodite, and I know her main-mast rakes a good deal, for Julian remarked it to me; I was so intently regarding the Vengeance, that I heeded the brig very little.”
“By St. Patrick! I must have that brig,” said the commander of the corvette. “Four days ago I chased her some ten leagues to the eastward of Lyon Point, and lost her just here in a fog of not an hour’s duration, and a stark calm; and, be the powers of war! when the fog cleared off, the deuce a bit of the brig was to be seen. She evidently was towed into that inlet. What kind of a place is it?”
“A fine sheet of water inside; but there are several rocks to the right of the entrance, covered at high water, and the entrance itself is a blind one.”
“Yes, faith, I know it is; but we’ll find it with the boats. How’s your appetite? We’ll have some supper, and then prepare for action.”
“My appetite is good enough; but I am intensely anxious about Mabel, her mother, and Julian; I fear they will be suspected, seized, and sent to Paris. I am sure that detestable Monsieur Gramont is at the bottom of this affair. They must have thought to seize Julian and myself; and yet, why let usgo to Lyon Head for that purpose, when we could as readily have been arrested at the château? It is puzzling.”
“It’s marvellously unfortunate,” said Captain O’Loughlin, with a vexed air; “and for the life of me, I cannot see how this untoward event can be remedied. You may depend on it the military will be on the alert from Havre, to prevent any communication with the château; and you yourself know the rules of the service would prevent me attempting an attack upon the mansion; though if I thought we had any chance of rescuing Madame Coulancourt and Mabel, and that the lives of my men would not be uselessly sacrificed, I would cheerfully run the risk of being broken and dismissed the service.”
“No, my kind friend, that must not be; your men must not incur such a risk as that, without a chance of benefiting the service. We will cut out this Vengeance, because she has been a pest to our commerce, and will be again if she is not taken or destroyed; but I wish, though I certainly do not owe him any good will myself, I wish the captain of the privateer’s life to be spared, because he is the son-in-law of a very good and kind old dame that did me great service.”
“Unless he kills himself in his desperation; for, by your account, he is a ferocious fellow. I will give orders to avoid killing him if possible. You will take the command of the launch, with a long twelve-pound carronade in her, young Burdett, and sixteen men; I will take the pinnace; and Pole, with an eight-pounder and fourteen men, will take the other boat. I think this force will be sufficient, even if they have taken alarm and increased their crew; but they may fancy, from the secrecy and security of this inlet, that no attempt may be thought of against them.”
“It’s very possible; but I think they may be alarmed, seeing the corvette so close in with the land, and station men on the rocks on each side the creek,” said our hero. “Do you know if there is any vessel of war in Havre?”
“Not of any consequence,” said O’Loughlin; “except armed luggers, a cutter, two chasse-mares, and, I believe, a large privateer, just ready for sea. Our fleet is off Brest, and has swept the Channel.”
Lieutenant Thornton, before the hour arrived for setting out on the expedition, felt not the slightest uneasiness from the contusion on his head, but was anxious and disturbed lest his absence might materially affect the future happiness of those most dear to him. He was also greatly puzzled respecting the motives and means adopted for seizing him and Julian; for those awaiting him at Lyon Head, no doubt thought that Julian would, as usual, accompany him. He had observed a man, not in uniform, stand forward prominently amongst thearmed men, and, with violent gesticulations, urge them to reload and pursue; who he was he could have no idea; but it satisfied him that they had been stationed there to intercept him. On ascending upon deck, he found the Onyx was lying-to, with her fore-top sails aback, and her courses brailed. There was a steady breeze from the land, the water quite smooth, and the sky cloudy. It was now nearly nine o’clock, and the crew were busy preparing for the expedition.
“It will not be dark till nearly ten o’clock,” said Lieutenant Pole, joining our hero. “You had a lucky escape from those fellows, William.”
“By Jove! I had, Charles,” responded our hero. “Have you had any letters or news from England since Julian Arden left you?”
“No; we have not spoken with any craft from England who left later than ourselves. We were in company with the Niger, Captain Foote, two or three days. He chased a large privateer lugger, who escaped by running in under the Penmarks, and anchored; and he very gallantly cut her out with his boats, after a very desperate resistance; but she had no news, except a rumour of peace.”
“I do not believe there is the slightest chance of it,” said our hero, thoughtfully; for he was thinking of Mabel. “Did you hear where the Diamond was?”
“I think I heard one of the officers of the Niger say she returned to Plymouth after the unfortunate attempt upon the Vengeance. What do you propose doing, William?”
“I am so put out by this unfortunate affair that I cannot exactly say. I had hoped to effect the escape of Madame Coulancourt and her family from France; but I fear that is now impossible. They may accuse her of intending to leave the country—imprison her, and confiscate her property. In fact, there is no knowing what train of misfortunes may ensue. I have a great mind, after this cutting-out business, to land and endeavour to discover how they are situated.”
“I fear you would rashly risk your life, William, and do no good. What could you do single-handed? Besides, now you are free, you will be expected either to retire from the service, or return and report yourself.”
“I will not retire during a time of war, Charles, you may depend. If I could only ascertain any tidings of those in the château, I should be lighter in heart.”
“Who knows what may occur to-night?” said Lieutenant Pole; “something may turn up—it’s impossible to foresee what may happen.”
“True, there may be no alarm at the château, except for my, perhaps to them unaccountable, disappearance.”
“May I ask you, William, why you do not assume the name of De Bracy, which every one that knows you is aware you are entitled to?”
“Because, Charles, I cannot see that I am as yet entitled, by law, to claim that name. For the present I prefer retaining that of my kind old benefactor. I can fight, or die, or achieve fame under that name as well as any other. I had hoped to have embraced a dear parent, and to have been acknowledged by him; but it was the will of Providence to take his life. I have felt this much, but dare not murmur; so now let us to the work on hand—we must have that Vengeance.”
A little after ten o’clock, the Onyx filled her topsails, and stood in for the cliff headland of Lyon Point. The boats were all ready and the men selected, and eager to be led by Lieutenant Thornton, whose gallantry and general good fortune, until the last mishap, was pretty well known to them.
There was a slight breeze from the land, which was in their favour.
“I have changed our mode of attack,” said Captain O’Loughlin to our hero, as they walked the quarter-deck, gazing out at the indistinct line of coast, half hid by the haze; “though the change has greatly annoyed Pole. I have determined upon his taking the command of the Onyx during our absence. My second lieutenant will take his place. Between you and me, Mr. Joyce is a brave fellow, but somewhat rash. I would rather not leave the ship under his care in our absence; on Pole I can depend in every way: he is cool, calculating, and skilful.”
“I think you are quite right; but I fancy if you stayed on board yourself, and let Charles take the pinnace, you would do better still.”
“Be the powers of war! catch me at that,” said O’Loughlin, laughing; “you are thinking of Sir Sidney, and that there’s a chance of two commanders failing in cutting out this redoubtable Vengeance.”
“I hope not, Patrick; for, by Jove! that would be paying dearly for the chance of a privateer. It is not that. It strikes me that commanders should not, except in extreme cases, lead in these cutting-out affairs.”
“Oh, bother! what’s a commander? Many a worthy lieutenant is worth a dozen of some of them. If a commander does get knocked on the head, it makes way for another—it’s all in the way of business; besides, I like a thing of the kind. What do you think of the sailing qualities of the corvette?”
“She moves fast and easily through the water,” said Lieutenant Thornton; “she’s a handsome craft, and, I should say,makes good weather of it from her beam. She’s a splendid sea boat, and as stiff as a church steeple; it must be a hard gale that will make her want two reefs in her topsail.”
“Mr. Thomson,” hailed the commander, “put a man in the chains, and take a cast of the lead; we are closer in now than we were this morning.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the mate; and the clear, steady voice of the leads-man was heard giving out the soundings, and shortly after the Onyx was hove up in the wind, and an anchor dropped in about nine fathoms of water, about three-quarters of a mile from the shore, and a mile to the eastward of Lyon Head.
The boats were all in the water, the crews served each with a cutlass and brace of pistols. The launch was a fine boat; she carried a long twelve-pounder, loaded with grape, in her bows, and was steered by Master Burdett, the midshipman. Bill Saunders was in his glory; he was to have, by special permission, the charge of the gun.
In a few minutes, all being ready, the men in their places, the row-locks muffled, the word to give way given, off they started, in high spirits. Captain O’Loughlin leading in the pinnace, in which he had a lieutenant of marines and eight men, besides twelve picked men of his own crew. He left the Vengeance to our hero and the two boats, his intention being to carry out the brig.
There was scarcely a ripple against the rocks, the water was so smooth. They soon came up with the mouth of the creek, which, by keeping close alongside, they easily found, though from some distance off it would be scarcely visible. The entrance was not unlike that into Dartmouth, but infinitely narrower. The tide was nearly at full, so the boats glided noiselessly up the narrow part—the cliffs being very high and precipitous on both sides. The breeze came steadily down the creek. Just as they opened the wide part, they became aware of a large square-rigged craft, coming down dead before the wind, under top sails and top-gallant sails.
“The brig,” said Lieutenant Thornton to the midshipman. The pinnace was about sixty yards ahead. Just as he uttered the words, a bright line of fire flashed from one side of the creek, and the rattle of musketry broke upon the stillness of the night.
“Discovered, by Jupiter!” said our hero, standing up; “give way, my lads. Any one hit? Keep steady, men.”
“No one hit, sir; all right,” shouted Bill, from the bow. “Look, sir, the brig is running ashore!”
Our hero perceived that Captain O’Loughlin pulled up alongside, and, though received with a smart fire of musketryand pistols, soon gained her deck; and then the loud cheer of his men was echoed from the steep cliffs.
“All right, my men,” said our hero; “give way, and now for the Vengeance;” and, through a fierce fire of musketry from the shore, the launch flew through the still waters of the creek.
They were within seventy yards of the Vengeance when she opened fire from an eight-pounder, crammed to the muzzle with grape. The water round the launch was lashed into foam, and the spray flew over the men; but, as often happens, strange to say, in attacks of the same kind, not a man was hit.
“Now, Bill, give them an answer,” said our hero; and then followed the loud boom of the launch’s twelve-pounder, as it poured its deadly contents over the decks of the Vengeance, and the next instant they were alongside, and Lieutenant Thornton, cutlass in hand, sprang upon her deck, followed by his brave crew; though a desperate volley of musketry was fired full in their faces, killing one man and wounding three.
“Force them overboard, my lads,” shouted our hero, as he drove the Frenchmen before him, and saved young Burdett, as he scrambled over the bulwarks, from being annihilated by the butt end of a musket. There were full thirty men on board the Vengeance, and Captain Pierre Gaudet, foaming at the mouth, and furious with passion, was urging them to a furious resistance. Just then Lieutenant Joyce boarded the Vengeance on her larboard quarter, taking the enraged Frenchman in the rear. Lieutenant Thornton, wishing to spare Pierre Gaudet’s life, burst through all opposition, and, singling him out, disarmed him, and catching him by the collar, dragged him to the side.
“Curse you! I know you,” shouted Pierre Gaudet, striving to draw out a knife. “Set her on fire, drag out the plugs!” he roared amid the din, but Lieutenant Thornton tumbled him over the bulwarks. Desperately he clung to anything he could catch hold of.
“I wish to save your life, villain!” exclaimed our hero, “though you do not deserve any clemency;” and, dragging Gaudet from his last hold, he threw him into the launch, and called to the men to surrender. There were five dead upon the deck, and several wounded. Bill was driving all before him with a handspike, having broken his cutlass. Several of the crew of the privateer threw themselves overboard, others surrendered, but a few desperate hands rushed below and fired the fore-cabin, which was, however, extinguished instantly, and preparations were then made for casting her loose, when it was discovered that she was chained to the shore, and the massive chain on board was riveted to a huge bolt.
“Now, Mr. Joyce, be ready,” said our hero, “to set sailthe moment I hail you; I will go ashore and cast off this chain,” and he leaped into the launch, followed by Bill and some half dozen of the men. Just then Captain O’Loughlin rowed up alongside, having previously sent the brig out with half-a-dozen hands in her.
Whilst Lieutenant Thornton was pulling towards the shore, Pierre Gaudet threw himself into the water, swam to the shore, or on board one of the fishing luggers near.
As the party in the launch pulled towards the beach they were assailed by a discharge of musketry from a large number of men drawn up on the shore.
“Now, Bill, give them a dose, and disperse them.”
“Ay, ay, sir, I’ll physic them,” and bang went the twelve-pounder, loaded with grape, and well-directed, at the body of men drawn up under the rocks, and dispersing them in double quick time, leaving three of their number dead upon the beach.
“Load again, and keep them from closing,” said our hero, springing ashore with his men, and seeking to find what the chain was fastened to.
The men who had fled rallied as soon as they had gained the shelter of the rocks, and again opened fire, the balls knocking up the sand all round the launch; but Bill was soon ready with another dose of grape, and dislodged them from their position.
Lieutenant Thornton, to his dismay, found the chain was riveted to an anchor, stuck in the sands, over a ton weight. Confounded at this contretemps, he was hesitating what to do, when he was hailed from the Vengeance, telling him they had cut away the deck with axes, and freed the ring-bolt to which the chain was fast, the enemy having, probably, in their hurry, hastily riveted the chain to a bolt, instead of taking a turn round the main-mast, and then riveting it. The Frenchmen, still from a distance, kept up a dropping fire upon our hero and his party; but, wading on board the launch, with only two men slightly wounded, they all returned on board the Vengeance.