Chapter Eleven.The frigate very soon had made good the damages she received in the fight, and once more put to sea, all on board wishing for nothing better than a similar encounter with another enemy, feeling full confidence that the result would be the same.One morning at daybreak, when True Blue had been sent aloft to take a lookout and report any sail in sight, his keen eye detected a small speck floating in the calm, hazy ocean. He knew that the speck was a boat, and hailed to that effect. There was a light breeze from the eastward, and the frigate, under all plain sail, was standing on a bowline to the southward. She was hauled up a few more points, to fetch the boat, which it was soon seen, instead of attempting to escape, was approaching the frigate. Numerous were the conjectures as to what she was; for although an open boat out in mid-channel was not exactly a novelty, still any incident was of interest in those stirring times, when all knew that apparent trifles often led to something important.The boat appeared to be that of a merchantman. Six men were in her; four were pulling, and two sat in the sternsheets. One of these was a wrinkled, wiry old man, with a big red nightcap on his head, and a huge green and yellow comforter round his throat, while a thick flushing coat and trousers, and high boots, concealed the rest of his form. The other looked like the master of a merchantman. As soon as they got alongside, the latter begged that the boat might be hoisted up. This was done; and while the other men went forward among the crew, he and his strange-looking companion repaired aft to the Captain’s cabin. The information they gave seemed to afford infinite satisfaction to Captain Garland. Several of his officers were breakfasting with him.“I trust, gentlemen, that, before many days have passed, we shall fall in with another enemy’s frigate, a worthy antagonist for theRuby,” he remarked as soon as they were seated. “We have also on board, I am happy to say, one of the most experienced pilots for the Channel Islands and the French coast to the westward—a Guernsey man; and, what is more, I know that he is thoroughly to be trusted. He and his companions were on board a merchant vessel, captured by a French privateer; and as the enemy leaped on the deck on one side, they slipped over the bulwarks on the other, and, favoured by the darkness, effected their escape. I propose to run over to the French coast, and watch off Cherbourg for the return of two French frigates, which, I understand, robber-like, go out every night and return into harbour in the morning.”At first the crew were very much inclined to laugh at the odd appearance of the old pilot; but Paul Pringle soon got into conversation with him, and gave it as his opinion that the little finger of the old Guernsey man knew more than a dozen of their heads put together, both as to seamanship and as to the navigation of the adjacent coasts. It quickly became known that there was something in the wind, and that the Captain hoped to fall in with another enemy before long.Cape Barfleur, to the westward of Cherbourg, was made during the night. The wind was off shore, and theRubywas close-hauled on the larboard tack, when, as day dawned, a ship and a cutter were seen from her deck coming in from seaward. All hands were called up, the frigate was cleared for action, and the men went to their quarters. Every glass was turned towards the approaching strangers.“We shall have another scrimmage—that we shall!” exclaimed Tim Fid to True Blue. “I wonder what Gipples will do this time?”“It’s a pity he ever came to sea again after the last cruise,” answered Billy. “He’ll never make a sailor, and only bring shame on the name of one.”“He’s just fit to sell cat’s meat,” observed Harry. “Maybe one of the shot he’s so afraid of will take his head off, as it might that of a better fellow, and that will settle for him.”With this philosophical remark the boys sat down on their powder tubs to await the commencement of the action; while poor Gipples, who had overheard what was said, sat quaking on his in a most pitiable manner.TheRubywas kept edging away towards the supposed enemy. As the daylight increased, there was little doubt of her character, and she was pronounced to be a thirty-six-gun frigate.“A fit opponent for us!” exclaimed the Captain. “We can allow her the cutter’s assistance, and we must see how quickly we can take them both.”The cutter, however, seemed to have no inclination to assist her consort, from whom she kept hovering at some distance.There was not much time for talking or speculation. TheRubysoon ranged up on the weather and larboard side of the Frenchman, at whose peak flew the ensign of Republican France. It would have been throwing away words to have exchanged compliments or interrogations in this case. The Frenchmen, indeed, maintained a surly silence, till it was broken by the rapid interchange of broadsides between the two well-matched combatants. The chances of war seemed, however, in this instance to be going against theRuby. At the second broadside, down came her fore-topsail-yard, followed soon afterwards by the fore-topmast.“This will never do!” exclaimed Paul Pringle, beckoning to Billy and sending a man to take charge of his tub. “Come here, boy. You must try and see if you can’t do as well as you did when we took theCitoyenne. Give her as good at least as she has given us.”True Blue, nothing loth, began to take a sight along the gun. Just then the Captain had ordered theRuby’shelm to be put hard a-starboard, by which she came suddenly round on the opposite tack, and brought her larboard guns to bear on the enemy.True Blue, finding the ship going about, knew that no time was to be lost. He fired, and the enemy’s foreyard came instantly down. The effect was to throw her up into the wind, in which position she received a raking broadside from theRuby.“That’s your doing, True Blue. All at the gun saw it—I know they did.”“Yes, that was True Blue’s shot, as sure as a gun!” cried Tom Marline. “You shall have as many more as you like, Billy.”Again True Blue fired, and the enemy’s mizen-topmast came down. This enabled theRubyto sail round and round her, giving her numerous raking broadsides. Still the gallant Frenchman held out. All this time not a shot had been fired from the cutter, and, greatly to the annoyance of the British sailors, she was seen making off under all sail for Cherbourg.At the same time, during a pause in the action, when the smoke cleared off, another sail was descried to the northward, three or four leagues off. The sound of the firing had undoubtedly brought her thus far, and there she lay becalmed, unable to get up and join in the fight. Her presence, however, was not welcomed by theRuby’screw. She was evidently a frigate. If an enemy, she might prevent the capture of the other Frenchman, and indeed endanger the safety of theRubyherself. If a friend, they would rather have had the honour of taking their antagonist singlehanded, as they fully expected to do.As to there being any danger of their being captured, that did not enter the heads of the British tars.“Come, bear a hand, boys,” said Paul. “We must take this here chap first, and then, if the calm holds for a little longer, we may get all ataunto and be ready for the others. One down, the other come on. That’s it, boys.”Strange to say, except one man, who had his leg broken by the recoil of a gun he was fighting, not a man on board theRubyhad been hit, though it was evident that numbers of the Frenchmen had been killed, as several were seen thrown overboard. The British began to grow impatient. The French frigate was holding out, probably in expectation of assistance from her consort. The breeze now increased, and the stranger in the offing approached.“Hurrah!” cried Paul Pringle, “another broadside, lads, and the Monsieurs will haul down their flag.”Paul’s assertion proved correct. Down came the Frenchman’s colours, after an action which lasted two hours and ten minutes. She proved to be the thirty-eight-gun frigateRéunion, Captain François Adénian.Numbers of people stood on the French shore watching the combat, and much disappointed they must have been at its termination. TheRéunion’sconsort, theSémillante, was seen to make an attempt to come out of harbour to her assistance; but there was not wind sufficient for her to stem a contrary and very strong tide.“I do wish she’d come!” exclaimed Paul Pringle as he eyed her, while he and his companions were repairing damages, again to make sail. “We’d have her too—I know we should.”“I thought that I should bring you good luck, Monsieur le Captain,” said the old pilot when the action was over; “I always do.”“I hope you will stay with us and bring us more, then,” answered Captain Garland.“With all my heart,” was the answer; and so it was arranged.Some time after this theRubyput into Plymouth, from whence she was ordered to proceed to Guernsey in company with theDruid, a thirty-two-gun frigate, and theEurydice, a twenty-four-gun ship.A bright lookout was as usual kept. The squadron had got to the distance of about twelve leagues to the northward of the island, when one of the lookouts hailed that two ships were in sight to the westward. Presently two more and a fifth was made out. Whether friends or foes, at first it was difficult to say; but clear glasses were brought to bear on them, and it was declared that they were two fifty-gun ships, two large frigates and a brig, which had crowded all sail in chase.Many a man might have been daunted by these fearful odds. True British seamen never give in while there is a possibility of escape. Captain Garland called aft the old Guernsey pilot and had a short conversation with him. “Then I’ll do it,” was his remark, and threw out a signal for theEurydiceto make the best of her way under all sail for Guernsey.Meantime he and theDruid, under easy sail, waited the approach of the enemy. On they came, exulting in their strength, and confident of making prizes of the two British frigates. The latter, nothing daunted, opened their fire on the enemy in a way which must not a little have astonished them.“Our Captain knows what he is about,” observed Paul Pringle in his usual quiet way, as some of the frigate’s shots were seen to strike the headmost of one of the French ships.“What! Paul, are we going to take all those big ships?” asked True Blue with much animation. “That will be fine work.”“As to taking them, Billy, I can’t say,” answered Paul. “It won’t be bad work if we don’t get taken ourselves, do ye see.”Never, however, did two ships appear in greater jeopardy than did theRubyand her consort. True Blue observed his Captain. There he stood calm and composed, watching every movement of the enemy, with the old pilot by his side. They were now rapidly approaching Guernsey, and could be seen from the shore, all the neighbouring heights of which were crowded with spectators, eager and anxious witnesses of the unequal contest. Although both the English frigates fired well, they had not as yet succeeded in bringing down any of the Frenchmen’s spars.Captain Garland now threw out another signal. It was to order theDruidto crowd all sail and make the best of her way for the harbour. Those on board her could scarcely understand his object. It appeared as if he was about to sacrifice himself for the sake of preserving the other two ships. The Captain of theDruidwas too good an officer not to obey orders simply because he could not understand their object, or he would have been inclined rather to have gone to theRuby’said, and to have shared her fate, whatever that might have been.As soon as Captain Garland saw that theDruidwas obeying his directions, he boldly hauled up and stood right along the French line, at which the frigate kept up all the time a hot fire. The enemy kept firing away all the while in return; but their gunnery was fortunately none of the best, and but few of their shot had hitherto struck theRuby.“Well, what are we going to do now, Paul?” asked True Blue. “Does the Captain intend to try and weather on the Frenchmen, and so get clear?”“Wait a bit, Billy,” answered his godfather. “You’ll see presently. The Captain means to proceed to Guernsey, and to Guernsey, it’s my opinion, we shall go, in spite of all the Frenchmen may do to try and prevent us.”On stood the gallantRuby. The two frigates and brig were passed; then came one of the big ships, then the other. TheEurydicewas now close in with the harbour and safe. TheDruidwas so near that, unless becalmed, there appeared no doubt about her getting in.“Now, my lads,” cried Captain Garland, “be sharp in all you do!”The helm was put up, the yards were squared, and on she stood towards a collection of rocky islands, islets, and shoals, apparently to destruction. The never-quiet ocean was sending dense masses of spray and foam over the rocks. The old pilot stood calm by the Captain’s side. The Frenchmen, who had concentrated all their attention on theRubyand let the other two ships escape, now bore up after them.On she stood under all sail towards the rocks. The old pilot took his stand in the weather-rigging. The helmsman’s eye was upon him, ready to answer each wave of his hand, or deep-toned sound of his voice. The guns were deserted, and all the crew stood by either the tacks or sheets or braces, or crowded the tops aloft, ready with all possible rapidity to make any alteration in the sails which a shift of wind or change of course might require.Still the enemy kept firing at the frigate, but their shot fell either altogether short or wide of their mark. The wind increased—the frigate flew on. On either side of her there appeared white foaming seas, dancing up fantastically and wildly, without apparent cause, but which the seamen well knew betokened rocks and shoals. They were aware that they were among the most dangerous reefs on that rock-bound coast.No one in the ship had ever been there except the curious old pilot. There he stood, as cool and collected as if the ship were sailing in the open sea, with a gentle breeze filling her canvas. The Captain stood near the pilot, and they all knew that they could trust him, and so were content if he trusted the old Guernsey man.“He knows what he’s about,” observed Paul Pringle to his godson, looking at the pilot. “Mind, Billy, that’s what you must always do. Never attempt to do what you don’t know how to do; but then what I say is, set to work and learn to do all sorts of things. Never throw a chance away. Note all the landmarks as we go along now, and whenever you go into a harbour mark them in the same way.”“Ay, ay, Paul,” answered Billy; “I’ll do my best.”“That’s all any man can do,” remarked his godfather. “Stick to that, boy, and you’ll do well. But, I say, I wish those Monsieurs would just try and follow us. We might lead them a dance which would leave them on some of these pretty rocks alongside.”True Blue’s interest in what was going forward was so great that he could scarcely reply to Paul’s remarks. The sea foamed and roared on either side of the ship. Now the water became smoother over a wider surface, now black rocks rose sheer out of the sea as high as the hammock nettings, and then once more there was a bubbling, and hissing, and frothing, betokening concealed dangers, which none but the most experienced of pilots could hope to avoid. Meantime, many an eye was turned towards the French squadron. It was scarcely to be expected that the enemy should be ignorant of the surrounding dangers; still no one would have been sorry if, in their eagerness, they had run themselves on shore.Suddenly the leading French ship was seen to haul her wind—so suddenly, indeed, that the next almost ran into her, and, as it was, shot so far beyond her that she must have almost grazed the rocks before her yards were braced up, and she was able to stand off shore. In a few minutes more theRubyran triumphantly into Guernsey roads, where theDruidandEurydicehad already arrived in safety, while thousands of spectators were looking down and cheering them from the surrounding heights.“I knew our Captain would do it!” exclaimed Paul, when, the sails being furled and the ship brought to an anchor, he and his messmates were once again below. “There are few things a brave man can’t do when he tries. Our Captain can fight a ship and take care of a ship. What I’ve been saying to Billy is, that we should never give up, however great the odds against us, because, for what we can tell, even at the last moment something or other may turn up in our favour. Mind, Billy, whatever you may think now, you’ll find one of these days that what I tell you is right.”
The frigate very soon had made good the damages she received in the fight, and once more put to sea, all on board wishing for nothing better than a similar encounter with another enemy, feeling full confidence that the result would be the same.
One morning at daybreak, when True Blue had been sent aloft to take a lookout and report any sail in sight, his keen eye detected a small speck floating in the calm, hazy ocean. He knew that the speck was a boat, and hailed to that effect. There was a light breeze from the eastward, and the frigate, under all plain sail, was standing on a bowline to the southward. She was hauled up a few more points, to fetch the boat, which it was soon seen, instead of attempting to escape, was approaching the frigate. Numerous were the conjectures as to what she was; for although an open boat out in mid-channel was not exactly a novelty, still any incident was of interest in those stirring times, when all knew that apparent trifles often led to something important.
The boat appeared to be that of a merchantman. Six men were in her; four were pulling, and two sat in the sternsheets. One of these was a wrinkled, wiry old man, with a big red nightcap on his head, and a huge green and yellow comforter round his throat, while a thick flushing coat and trousers, and high boots, concealed the rest of his form. The other looked like the master of a merchantman. As soon as they got alongside, the latter begged that the boat might be hoisted up. This was done; and while the other men went forward among the crew, he and his strange-looking companion repaired aft to the Captain’s cabin. The information they gave seemed to afford infinite satisfaction to Captain Garland. Several of his officers were breakfasting with him.
“I trust, gentlemen, that, before many days have passed, we shall fall in with another enemy’s frigate, a worthy antagonist for theRuby,” he remarked as soon as they were seated. “We have also on board, I am happy to say, one of the most experienced pilots for the Channel Islands and the French coast to the westward—a Guernsey man; and, what is more, I know that he is thoroughly to be trusted. He and his companions were on board a merchant vessel, captured by a French privateer; and as the enemy leaped on the deck on one side, they slipped over the bulwarks on the other, and, favoured by the darkness, effected their escape. I propose to run over to the French coast, and watch off Cherbourg for the return of two French frigates, which, I understand, robber-like, go out every night and return into harbour in the morning.”
At first the crew were very much inclined to laugh at the odd appearance of the old pilot; but Paul Pringle soon got into conversation with him, and gave it as his opinion that the little finger of the old Guernsey man knew more than a dozen of their heads put together, both as to seamanship and as to the navigation of the adjacent coasts. It quickly became known that there was something in the wind, and that the Captain hoped to fall in with another enemy before long.
Cape Barfleur, to the westward of Cherbourg, was made during the night. The wind was off shore, and theRubywas close-hauled on the larboard tack, when, as day dawned, a ship and a cutter were seen from her deck coming in from seaward. All hands were called up, the frigate was cleared for action, and the men went to their quarters. Every glass was turned towards the approaching strangers.
“We shall have another scrimmage—that we shall!” exclaimed Tim Fid to True Blue. “I wonder what Gipples will do this time?”
“It’s a pity he ever came to sea again after the last cruise,” answered Billy. “He’ll never make a sailor, and only bring shame on the name of one.”
“He’s just fit to sell cat’s meat,” observed Harry. “Maybe one of the shot he’s so afraid of will take his head off, as it might that of a better fellow, and that will settle for him.”
With this philosophical remark the boys sat down on their powder tubs to await the commencement of the action; while poor Gipples, who had overheard what was said, sat quaking on his in a most pitiable manner.
TheRubywas kept edging away towards the supposed enemy. As the daylight increased, there was little doubt of her character, and she was pronounced to be a thirty-six-gun frigate.
“A fit opponent for us!” exclaimed the Captain. “We can allow her the cutter’s assistance, and we must see how quickly we can take them both.”
The cutter, however, seemed to have no inclination to assist her consort, from whom she kept hovering at some distance.
There was not much time for talking or speculation. TheRubysoon ranged up on the weather and larboard side of the Frenchman, at whose peak flew the ensign of Republican France. It would have been throwing away words to have exchanged compliments or interrogations in this case. The Frenchmen, indeed, maintained a surly silence, till it was broken by the rapid interchange of broadsides between the two well-matched combatants. The chances of war seemed, however, in this instance to be going against theRuby. At the second broadside, down came her fore-topsail-yard, followed soon afterwards by the fore-topmast.
“This will never do!” exclaimed Paul Pringle, beckoning to Billy and sending a man to take charge of his tub. “Come here, boy. You must try and see if you can’t do as well as you did when we took theCitoyenne. Give her as good at least as she has given us.”
True Blue, nothing loth, began to take a sight along the gun. Just then the Captain had ordered theRuby’shelm to be put hard a-starboard, by which she came suddenly round on the opposite tack, and brought her larboard guns to bear on the enemy.
True Blue, finding the ship going about, knew that no time was to be lost. He fired, and the enemy’s foreyard came instantly down. The effect was to throw her up into the wind, in which position she received a raking broadside from theRuby.
“That’s your doing, True Blue. All at the gun saw it—I know they did.”
“Yes, that was True Blue’s shot, as sure as a gun!” cried Tom Marline. “You shall have as many more as you like, Billy.”
Again True Blue fired, and the enemy’s mizen-topmast came down. This enabled theRubyto sail round and round her, giving her numerous raking broadsides. Still the gallant Frenchman held out. All this time not a shot had been fired from the cutter, and, greatly to the annoyance of the British sailors, she was seen making off under all sail for Cherbourg.
At the same time, during a pause in the action, when the smoke cleared off, another sail was descried to the northward, three or four leagues off. The sound of the firing had undoubtedly brought her thus far, and there she lay becalmed, unable to get up and join in the fight. Her presence, however, was not welcomed by theRuby’screw. She was evidently a frigate. If an enemy, she might prevent the capture of the other Frenchman, and indeed endanger the safety of theRubyherself. If a friend, they would rather have had the honour of taking their antagonist singlehanded, as they fully expected to do.
As to there being any danger of their being captured, that did not enter the heads of the British tars.
“Come, bear a hand, boys,” said Paul. “We must take this here chap first, and then, if the calm holds for a little longer, we may get all ataunto and be ready for the others. One down, the other come on. That’s it, boys.”
Strange to say, except one man, who had his leg broken by the recoil of a gun he was fighting, not a man on board theRubyhad been hit, though it was evident that numbers of the Frenchmen had been killed, as several were seen thrown overboard. The British began to grow impatient. The French frigate was holding out, probably in expectation of assistance from her consort. The breeze now increased, and the stranger in the offing approached.
“Hurrah!” cried Paul Pringle, “another broadside, lads, and the Monsieurs will haul down their flag.”
Paul’s assertion proved correct. Down came the Frenchman’s colours, after an action which lasted two hours and ten minutes. She proved to be the thirty-eight-gun frigateRéunion, Captain François Adénian.
Numbers of people stood on the French shore watching the combat, and much disappointed they must have been at its termination. TheRéunion’sconsort, theSémillante, was seen to make an attempt to come out of harbour to her assistance; but there was not wind sufficient for her to stem a contrary and very strong tide.
“I do wish she’d come!” exclaimed Paul Pringle as he eyed her, while he and his companions were repairing damages, again to make sail. “We’d have her too—I know we should.”
“I thought that I should bring you good luck, Monsieur le Captain,” said the old pilot when the action was over; “I always do.”
“I hope you will stay with us and bring us more, then,” answered Captain Garland.
“With all my heart,” was the answer; and so it was arranged.
Some time after this theRubyput into Plymouth, from whence she was ordered to proceed to Guernsey in company with theDruid, a thirty-two-gun frigate, and theEurydice, a twenty-four-gun ship.
A bright lookout was as usual kept. The squadron had got to the distance of about twelve leagues to the northward of the island, when one of the lookouts hailed that two ships were in sight to the westward. Presently two more and a fifth was made out. Whether friends or foes, at first it was difficult to say; but clear glasses were brought to bear on them, and it was declared that they were two fifty-gun ships, two large frigates and a brig, which had crowded all sail in chase.
Many a man might have been daunted by these fearful odds. True British seamen never give in while there is a possibility of escape. Captain Garland called aft the old Guernsey pilot and had a short conversation with him. “Then I’ll do it,” was his remark, and threw out a signal for theEurydiceto make the best of her way under all sail for Guernsey.
Meantime he and theDruid, under easy sail, waited the approach of the enemy. On they came, exulting in their strength, and confident of making prizes of the two British frigates. The latter, nothing daunted, opened their fire on the enemy in a way which must not a little have astonished them.
“Our Captain knows what he is about,” observed Paul Pringle in his usual quiet way, as some of the frigate’s shots were seen to strike the headmost of one of the French ships.
“What! Paul, are we going to take all those big ships?” asked True Blue with much animation. “That will be fine work.”
“As to taking them, Billy, I can’t say,” answered Paul. “It won’t be bad work if we don’t get taken ourselves, do ye see.”
Never, however, did two ships appear in greater jeopardy than did theRubyand her consort. True Blue observed his Captain. There he stood calm and composed, watching every movement of the enemy, with the old pilot by his side. They were now rapidly approaching Guernsey, and could be seen from the shore, all the neighbouring heights of which were crowded with spectators, eager and anxious witnesses of the unequal contest. Although both the English frigates fired well, they had not as yet succeeded in bringing down any of the Frenchmen’s spars.
Captain Garland now threw out another signal. It was to order theDruidto crowd all sail and make the best of her way for the harbour. Those on board her could scarcely understand his object. It appeared as if he was about to sacrifice himself for the sake of preserving the other two ships. The Captain of theDruidwas too good an officer not to obey orders simply because he could not understand their object, or he would have been inclined rather to have gone to theRuby’said, and to have shared her fate, whatever that might have been.
As soon as Captain Garland saw that theDruidwas obeying his directions, he boldly hauled up and stood right along the French line, at which the frigate kept up all the time a hot fire. The enemy kept firing away all the while in return; but their gunnery was fortunately none of the best, and but few of their shot had hitherto struck theRuby.
“Well, what are we going to do now, Paul?” asked True Blue. “Does the Captain intend to try and weather on the Frenchmen, and so get clear?”
“Wait a bit, Billy,” answered his godfather. “You’ll see presently. The Captain means to proceed to Guernsey, and to Guernsey, it’s my opinion, we shall go, in spite of all the Frenchmen may do to try and prevent us.”
On stood the gallantRuby. The two frigates and brig were passed; then came one of the big ships, then the other. TheEurydicewas now close in with the harbour and safe. TheDruidwas so near that, unless becalmed, there appeared no doubt about her getting in.
“Now, my lads,” cried Captain Garland, “be sharp in all you do!”
The helm was put up, the yards were squared, and on she stood towards a collection of rocky islands, islets, and shoals, apparently to destruction. The never-quiet ocean was sending dense masses of spray and foam over the rocks. The old pilot stood calm by the Captain’s side. The Frenchmen, who had concentrated all their attention on theRubyand let the other two ships escape, now bore up after them.
On she stood under all sail towards the rocks. The old pilot took his stand in the weather-rigging. The helmsman’s eye was upon him, ready to answer each wave of his hand, or deep-toned sound of his voice. The guns were deserted, and all the crew stood by either the tacks or sheets or braces, or crowded the tops aloft, ready with all possible rapidity to make any alteration in the sails which a shift of wind or change of course might require.
Still the enemy kept firing at the frigate, but their shot fell either altogether short or wide of their mark. The wind increased—the frigate flew on. On either side of her there appeared white foaming seas, dancing up fantastically and wildly, without apparent cause, but which the seamen well knew betokened rocks and shoals. They were aware that they were among the most dangerous reefs on that rock-bound coast.
No one in the ship had ever been there except the curious old pilot. There he stood, as cool and collected as if the ship were sailing in the open sea, with a gentle breeze filling her canvas. The Captain stood near the pilot, and they all knew that they could trust him, and so were content if he trusted the old Guernsey man.
“He knows what he’s about,” observed Paul Pringle to his godson, looking at the pilot. “Mind, Billy, that’s what you must always do. Never attempt to do what you don’t know how to do; but then what I say is, set to work and learn to do all sorts of things. Never throw a chance away. Note all the landmarks as we go along now, and whenever you go into a harbour mark them in the same way.”
“Ay, ay, Paul,” answered Billy; “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all any man can do,” remarked his godfather. “Stick to that, boy, and you’ll do well. But, I say, I wish those Monsieurs would just try and follow us. We might lead them a dance which would leave them on some of these pretty rocks alongside.”
True Blue’s interest in what was going forward was so great that he could scarcely reply to Paul’s remarks. The sea foamed and roared on either side of the ship. Now the water became smoother over a wider surface, now black rocks rose sheer out of the sea as high as the hammock nettings, and then once more there was a bubbling, and hissing, and frothing, betokening concealed dangers, which none but the most experienced of pilots could hope to avoid. Meantime, many an eye was turned towards the French squadron. It was scarcely to be expected that the enemy should be ignorant of the surrounding dangers; still no one would have been sorry if, in their eagerness, they had run themselves on shore.
Suddenly the leading French ship was seen to haul her wind—so suddenly, indeed, that the next almost ran into her, and, as it was, shot so far beyond her that she must have almost grazed the rocks before her yards were braced up, and she was able to stand off shore. In a few minutes more theRubyran triumphantly into Guernsey roads, where theDruidandEurydicehad already arrived in safety, while thousands of spectators were looking down and cheering them from the surrounding heights.
“I knew our Captain would do it!” exclaimed Paul, when, the sails being furled and the ship brought to an anchor, he and his messmates were once again below. “There are few things a brave man can’t do when he tries. Our Captain can fight a ship and take care of a ship. What I’ve been saying to Billy is, that we should never give up, however great the odds against us, because, for what we can tell, even at the last moment something or other may turn up in our favour. Mind, Billy, whatever you may think now, you’ll find one of these days that what I tell you is right.”
Chapter Twelve.The frigate did not remain long at Guernsey, but, with the rest of the squadron, put to sea. She soon separated from them, and stood down Channel to extend her cruise to the distance of a couple of hundred leagues or so to the westward of Cape Clear.As usual, she was very successful and picked up several prizes. Among the prizes were three large merchantmen and two privateers. The latter, especially, required a considerable number of men to take them home. Captain Garland was unwilling thus to weaken his crew, and yet the prizes were too valuable to abandon. These vessels had just been despatched when a brig was descried from the masthead. Chase was given. She was a fast vessel and well handled, but before night she was come up with. When her Captain saw that he had no longer any hope of escape, he, like a wise man, hove to and hauled down his colours.She proved to beLa Sybille, a French letter of marque, carrying eight guns, twenty-five men, and bound for the French West India Islands with a valuable cargo. The prisoners, with the exception of four, three white men and a black, who were left on board to assist in working her, were removed to the frigate; and Captain Garland, who could not spare any more lieutenants or mates, sent a midshipman and prize crew to take charge of her.The midshipman’s name was Nott. He was generally called in the mess Johnny Nott. He was as short as his name, but he was a brave, dashing little fellow; but though he had been some time at sea, being very idle, his navigation, at all events, was not as first-rate as he managed to make it appear that it was when he had the honour of dining with his Captain. Captain Garland sent for him and told him that he would spare him two men and a couple of boys, and he expected that with them and the prisoners he would be able to carry the brig safe into Falmouth or Plymouth.“I shall send one of the quartermasters with you, Pringle. He is a steady man; and you shall have Marline and Freeborn, who is as good as a man, and the boy Hartland: he is steady.”“May I have Fid, sir, also?” put in Nott, who was always free-spoken and wonderfully at ease with his Captain. “He is such an amusing young dog. He’ll keep the rest alive by his jokes, if he does nothing else.”“You may take him, Mr Nott; but take care that they don’t get to skylarking and fall overboard,” said the Captain.“Oh no, sir,” answered the midshipman; “I’ll maintain the strictest discipline, and hope to have the brig safe in harbour in the course of a few days.”Captain Garland smiled at the air with which Johnny Nott spoke, and, shaking him by the hand, sincerely wished him a prosperous passage.Meantime the first lieutenant had sent for Paul Pringle, and, knowing how thoroughly he could be trusted, had given him his instructions to look after Mr Nott—in other words, to act as his dry-nurse.“I need not tell you how to behave, Pringle,” observed the lieutenant. “You must advise him when to shorten sail, and what to do, indeed, under any emergency; and let him, as much as possible, suppose that he is following his own ideas.”“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Paul, not a little flattered. “I know pretty well how to speak to most of the young gentlemen; I always leave them to fancy that they are telling me what to do. Most young gentlemen nowadays are fond of ‘teaching their grandmothers to suck eggs,’ and I never stop them when they like to do it.”“All right, then, Pringle,” answered Mr Brine; “we understand each other clearly. Keep order among the boys, and have an eye on the prisoners.”All arrangements being made, Mr Nott, with his quadrant, book of navigation, and his crew, went on board the prize and took charge of her, instead of the officer who had boarded her when she was captured.Scarcely had he got on board and made sail than a large ship was seen to the southwest. The frigate signalled the brig to continue on her course, and then stood away in chase of the stranger. Johnny Nott would much have liked to have gone too, for he could not help fancying that the stranger was an enemy, and if so, he knew full well that whatever her size, even should she happen to be a line-of-battle ship, his Captain would very likely bring her to action. Though he dared not follow her, he waited till he guessed that no one on board would be paying him any attention, and then, having persuaded himself that there would be no harm in so doing, hove the brig to, that he might have a better chance of ascertaining what might happen.He then ordered True Blue to the masthead to watch the proceedings of the stranger. The wind was about north-west; the stranger was steering about east, and had apparently come from the southward. In a little time Billy hailed that she had brailed up her courses.“Then, sir,” observed Paul, “depend on it she is an enemy.”“I wonder what size she is? What do you think, Pringle?” asked the midshipman.“Freeborn can tell better than any of us,” was the reply; and on Billy being hailed, he reported her a heavy frigate or a fifty-gun ship.“I only hope our brightRubywon’t find that she has caught a Tartar, then,” said Johnny Nott. “I don’t think that we could be of much use if we were to go and try and help.”“Never fear, sir,” observed Paul; “our Captain will know how to tackle with her, whatever she is.”While this conversation was going forward, True Blue hailed that the frigate was again making signals, and on Johnny Nott referring to his book he discovered that it was a reprimand ordering him to make all sail to the eastward. Had he persevered in remaining hove to, he would have been guilty of an act of insubordination, and most reluctantly, therefore, he made sail and stood on his proper course.When daylight returned the next morning the frigate was nowhere to be seen, andLa Sybillecontinued her solitary course towards England.The Frenchmen had hitherto behaved in a perfectly orderly, quiet manner, and obeyed cheerfully the orders issued to them. No change, indeed, was exhibited towards their English captors; but they soon began to quarrel among themselves, and were constantly fighting and disputing. If they did not actually proceed to blows, they appeared every instant as if about to do so. Their conduct was reported to Mr Nott.“No great harm in that,” he remarked. “If they are quarrelling among themselves, they are less likely to combine to play us any tricks.”Not many hours had passed before, while he was below, one of the Frenchmen was left at the helm, and True Blue, who was forward, saw another come up on deck, and, with a capstan-bar in his hand, make a blow, so it seemed, at the helmsman’s head. He missed it, however, and the bar, descending with full force on the binnacle, smashed it and the compasses within it to pieces. Billy remarked the men. There was a great deal of jabbering, vociferation, and action, but neither of them struck or hurt the other.As he watched them an idea occurred to him. “I don’t think those fellows did that by chance,” he said to himself. “I will keep an eye on them.”The noise brought Mr Nott and Paul Pringle on deck.“A pretty mess you have made, Messieurs,” observed the midshipman, who spoke a sufficient amount of bad French to make himself perfectly understood by them, and this was one of the reasons why he had been selected to command the brig. “If I was to give you four dozen each, or put you in irons, or stop your grog, you’d only get what you deserve. Now, go and find another compass and put the binnacle to rights. You Frenchmen are handy at that sort of thing.”The men slunk off as if very much ashamed of themselves, and Paul Pringle took the helm. True Blue, however, watched them, and he was certain that there was a laugh in their eyes, giving evidence that they were well content with what they had done. When they went below also, they seemed to be on perfectly good terms with each other.On search being made, no compass whatever was to be found.“I thought that I had observed, when I first came on board, a spare compass and boat compass,” observed Mr Nott.But the Frenchmen, on being interrogated, all declared that they were not aware that there were any others, and said that if there were, they were private property, and that the Captain had taken them with him. The other Frenchmen appeared to be very angry at what their countrymen had done, and did their best to ingratiate themselves with Mr Nott. The difficulty was now to know how to steer. The midshipman’s knowledge of navigation was put to a severe test. While the sky was clear, either by night or by day, it was tolerably easy to steer more or less to the eastward; but whether they should hit the chops of the Channel or run on shore on the coast of Ireland or France, or the Scilly Islands, it was impossible to say.“We must do our best, sir, and trust in Providence,” observed Paul Pringle to the young officer. “Only there’s one thing I’d do—I’d rather steer to the nor’ard than the south’ard of our course, so as to avoid the chance of running ashore on the Frenchman’s coast. Of all the places I should hate most it would be a French prison.”True Blue was certainly not of a suspicious disposition, but he could not help watching the Frenchmen. He whispered his ideas also to Harry and Tim Fid, who agreed to keep a watchful eye on the prisoners. Little did the Frenchmen think how narrowly all their proceedings were noted. Fid soon remarked that when either of the Frenchmen was at the helm, one of the others was constantly going to a chest in the forepeak and looking steadily into it. His curiosity was therefore aroused to ascertain what it was they went to look at. He reflected how he could discover this without being seen.Some of the crew slept in the bunks or standing bed-places arranged along the sides of the vessel, but others in hammocks. The hammocks were, however, not sent up on deck every day as they are on board of a man-of-war. One of these hung over the Frenchmen’s chests, and into it Tim stowed himself away, making the lower surface smooth with the blankets, so that the form of his body should not be observed. A slight slit in the canvas enabled him to breathe and to look down below him. Poor Fid had to watch a considerable time, however, and felt sadly cramped and almost stifled without being the wiser for all the trouble he had taken. The Frenchmen were there; but first Tom Marline came below, and then Hartland, and then the black; and the Frenchmen sat on the lockers cutting out beef bones into various shapes and polishing them.At last all but one man went on deck, and then he jumped up, and instantly going to the chest opened it; and then Tim saw clearly a compass, and, moreover, that the brig was steering a course considerably to the southward of east. The Frenchman then put his head up through the fore-hatchway, took a look round, and then, again diving into the forepeak, had another glance at the compass.“That’s it,” thought Tim; “True Blue is right. The Frenchmen intend to run us near their own coast and then rise on us, or they hope to fall in with one of their own cruisers and be retaken. Small blame to them.”The thread of his soliloquy was interrupted by his observing the Frenchman go to a chest on the opposite side, which, when opened, he saw was full of arms, cutlasses, long knives, and pistols. The man sat down by the side of it, and deliberately began to load one after the other, and then to arrange the knives and dirks, so that they could in an instant be drawn out for use.“Ho, ho!” thought Tim; “that’s your plan, is it? Two can play at that game, we will show you!”Fid was now very anxious to get out of his hiding-place, and to go and tell True Blue what he had seen. The Frenchman, however, after he had made all his arrangements, put a brace of pistols into his pocket and stuck a dirk into his belt, concealed by his jacket, sat down on a locker, and, with the greatest apparent unconcern, pursued his usual occupation of bone-cutting.Fid grew more and more impatient. He waited some time longer, then he saw the man prick up his ears and listen eagerly. Presently there was the sound of a scuffle on deck. The Frenchman sprang up the ladder through the fore-hatch-way. As he did so a key fell from his pocket. The moment he was gone, Fid jumped out of his hiding-place, picked up the key, applied it to the chest which contained the arms—the lid flew open. He drew out several brace of pistols and a bundle of dirks. He stuck as many of both into his belt and pockets as he could carry, and hid the others in the hammock in which he had been concealed, while the key he also hid away. All was done as quick as lightning. Then, with a pistol in one hand and a dirk in the other, he followed the Frenchman up the hatchway.As he did so he chanced to cast his eye aloft, when he saw True Blue in the fore-rigging. He signed to him to come on deck. Billy saw him, and slid down rapidly by the foretop-mast-stay. On looking aft they saw Hartland and Mr Nott stretched on the deck, apparently lifeless, while the three Frenchmen, with the black, were making a furious attack on Tom Marline, who had the helm, while Paul Pringle stood by defending him with a boat’s stretcher. Neither Pringle nor Marline had arms, while two of the Frenchmen and the black had dirks, and the third Frenchman, as Fid knew, had pistols. Fid immediately handed a brace of pistols and a dirk to True Blue, and together they rushed aft. Paul saw them coming, but the Frenchmen did not. One of them had cocked his pistol, and was taking a deliberate aim at Paul, when True Blue, who at that instant had reached the quarterdeck, lifted his arm and fired.The Frenchman staggered a few paces, fired his pistol in the air, and then fell to the deck. To prevent his companions from seizing his weapons, Fid drew them from his pocket and bolted off with them round the deck. Before, however, the smoke of the pistol which True Blue had fired had cleared off, he had sprung to the side of Paul Pringle and handed him the remaining pistol and a dirk. Paul on this sprang on the Frenchmen.The black was the first to fly. The other two men, finding themselves clearly overmatched, retreated forward and gained the fore-hatchway. It was blowing fresh, so that Marline was afraid if he left the wheel the brig would broach to. Consequently only Paul and True Blue pursued the Frenchmen. One of them leaped down the fore-hatchway. As he did so a pistol-shot was heard, and Fid immediately afterwards appeared at the same place, exclaiming:“I’ve done for the fellow—settle the other two!”Fid held a pistol in his hand. The black saw it, and sprang at the boy to seize it; but True Blue, who saw it also, was too quick for him, and had got hold of it just before the negro reached the spot. Fid sprang out of his way; and so eager had he been, that he pitched head-forward down the hatchway.The last Frenchman attempted to defend himself; but when he saw Paul and the two lads with arms in their hands approaching him, while his companions were unable to assist him, he knew that resistance was useless and cried out for quarter.“You don’t deserve it, Monsieur Crapaud,” answered Paul; “but I’m not the fellow to take a man’s life in cold blood. Howsomdever, there’s one thing I’ll take, and that is, good care you don’t attempt to play us such a trick again. Here, Billy, hand me that coil of rope. We’ll keep him out of harm for the present.”Saying this, while True Blue stood by presenting a pistol at the prisoner’s head, Paul proceeded to lash his arms and legs, and to secure him to one of the guns.“Well done, mate!” exclaimed Tom Marline from aft. “And now just come and have a look at Mr Nott. I think that he’s coming to.”“And I do hope that Harry isn’t killed either!” cried Fid. “He’s breathing, and that’s more than dead men can do.”In a little time both Mr Midshipman Nott and the boy Hartland came to themselves, and sat up rubbing their eyes, as if trying to understand what had occurred. The moment the truth flashed on Mr Nott’s mind, he sprang to his feet, and, seizing a stretcher, the nearest weapon he could lay hold of, stood on the defensive, looking about for an enemy.He was much relieved in his mind when he saw one of the Frenchmen lying not far off dead on the deck, and another sitting bound, where Paul and True Blue had placed him, between the guns.“What! have we come off victorious in the struggle?” he exclaimed, turning to Marline.“Yes, sir,” answered the seaman, “we’ve been and drubbed the Monsieurs; but there are still two on ’em below kicking up a bobbery. If you’ll take the helm, sir, I’ll go and help Pringle to make them fast.”“No, no,” answered the midshipman somewhat indignantly, as if his courage or strength had been called in question. “I can do that. You stay at the helm.”When the Frenchman and the black had jumped down into the forepeak, Tim Fid had very wisely clapped the hatch on, so that they were left in darkness, and were also unable to return again on deck. Pringle was on the point of taking off the hatch to secure the two men when the midshipman got forward.“Very glad, sir, to see you all to rights,” said Paul, looking up. “I suppose that you’ll wish us to get hold of the two fellows down below?”“By all means. I’ll hail them and advise them to surrender at discretion.”The hatch was taken off, and Mr Nott explained, as well as his limited knowledge of French would allow, that all their chance of success was gone. Only the black man answered. Mr Nott ordered him to come up.“L’autre est mort,” (the other is dead), said he as he made his appearance, looking very much frightened.“He is as treacherous as the rest; it will not do to let him be at liberty,” said Mr Nott. “It was he who knocked me down and began the mutiny.”The black was accordingly lashed to a gun on the opposite side of the deck, facing his companion.On going below they found that the Frenchman whom Fid had shot was not dead, having only been stunned by the fall. He would, however, very shortly have bled to death had they not bound up his wound. In mercy to the poor wretch, they placed him in a bunk, but did not tell him that either of his companions had escaped.“Ah, I deserve my fate!” he observed to Mr Nott. “Had we succeeded, we should have thrown you all overboard and carried the vessel into a French port. There is a large sum of money on board stowed away below the after-lockers. It escaped the vigilance of the officers who examined the vessel. We knew of it, and for its sake we intended to get rid of you, that we might obtain possession of the whole.”“Much obliged for your kind intentions,” answered Johnny, laughing. “The dollars we’ll look after, and you will consider yourself a prisoner in your berth till I give you leave to get out of it. If you put your head above the hatchway, you’ll be shot. That is an understood thing between us.”The Frenchman could only make a grimace as a sign of his acquiescence.“I’m in earnest, remember!” said Mr Nott as he climbed up the ladder on deck.Fid now reported all that he had done, and he and True Blue received the praise from their young commander which they so fully merited. The compass was got up on deck and shipped in the binnacle, and the arms were carried aft and placed in the cabin. The other chests belonging to the Frenchmen were broken open; but nothing particular was found in them.When all these arrangements were made, the officer and his small crew assembled on deck to hold a council of war.“The first thing we had better do, sir, is to shorten sail, seeing how shorthanded we are,” observed Paul Pringle. “We couldn’t do it in a hurry, and if it comes on to blow, our spars and sails may be carried away before we know where we are.”This advice was too good to be neglected. “Then, sir, as these Frenchmen have been steering to the southward and east whenever they have had the helm, oughtn’t we to steer so much to the nor’ard to make up for the distance we have run out of our course?” observed True Blue with much modesty.“Capital idea, Freeborn!” exclaimed the midshipman with a patronising air. “You’ve a very good notion of navigation; we’ll do it.”Mr Nott now took the helm, while the crew went aloft to furl the lighter canvas and to take a reef in the topsails. While True Blue was on his way up to hand the main-royal, his eye fell on a vessel following directly in the wake of the brig, which might have been seen long before had not they all been so fully occupied. He hailed Mr Nott and pointed her out.The midshipman, who, from being at the helm, could not at the same time take a steady look at her, inquired what she was like. “A schooner, sir, with a wide spread of canvas,” answered True Blue. “She seems to be coming up fast with us.”“All hands come down on deck!” shouted Mr Nott. He then asked Paul what he thought of the stranger.“She does not look like an English craft, and may be an enemy—a privateer probably,” was the answer. “I suppose, sir, you’ll think fit to hold on and try and get away from her?” continued Paul. “It will soon be growing dark, and if the weather becomes thick, as it promises to do, we may alter our course without being discovered.”“Yes, exactly—that is just my idea,” observed Mr Nott. “We could not have hit upon a better.”The sail was consequently not taken off the brig, which, under other circumstances, it ought to have been; and on she stood, the breeze gradually increasing, and the weather becoming more and more unsettled. Mr Nott watched the schooner. It was very clear that she was gaining on the brig.“It is very probable that we shall have to fight, after all,” he said to himself. “So, as the Captain always makes a speech to the crew before a battle is begun, I think I ought to do so.”Accordingly, calling all hands aft, he cleared his throat and began. “My lads,” he said, imitating as well as he could the tone and manner of Captain Garland, “we shall very likely have to fight that fellow astern of us. You’ll do your duty like true Britons, I know you will—you always do. We will take her if we can. If not, we’ll try to get away from her; but if we cannot do either, we’ll blow up the brig and go down with our colours flying. I don’t think that it matters much which. Both are equally glorious modes of proceeding.”True Blue was very much taken with the speech, and told Harry Hartland that it was just what he thought they ought to do; but Tim Fid said that he hadn’t made up his mind which he should prefer. Blowing up was very fine to look at, but going down must be a very disagreeable sensation.Paul, meantime, took off his hat to reply. “As you wish it, Mr Nott, we’ll fight the brig to the last, and maybe we shall knock away some of her spars and get off. I don’t think we shall have much chance of taking her, and as to blowing up or going down with our colours flying, if the enemy send their shot through her sides, between wind and water, and won’t take us on board, we can’t help ourselves; but perhaps, sir, you’ll just think over the matter about blowing up. It would be like throwing our best chance away. I for one don’t wish to see the inside of a French prison; but you know, sir, even if we are taken, we may have a chance of being retaken before we get into a French port, or of escaping even when we are there. Now, if we blow ourselves up into the air, we shall have no chance of either.”“Very true, Pringle, very true,” answered the midshipman; “I did not think of that. Well, we won’t blow ourselves up; and if we find our brig sinking, we’ll strike our flag and yield. There’ll be no dishonour in doing that, I hope. Several brave officers have been obliged to strike to a superior force at times; so it will be all proper, but it’s what the Frenchmen are more accustomed to do than we are.”There was no sun visible, so Mr Nott looked at his watch and found that there would be scarcely more than an hour of daylight.“If we can but keep ahead, we shall do,” he remarked.Paul agreed with him in this, but suggested that, by cutting away the stern-boat, and by making two temporary ports in her stern, they might fight a couple of long brass guns which they had found on board. This idea was immediately adopted, and all hands set to work to get the guns and tackle ready, while Paul, with an axe, soon made the required ports. He was not very particular as to their appearance. With the aid of the timber-heads, there were already a sufficient number of ringbolts to enable them to work the tackles.All this time the schooner was gaining on them. Scarcely were these two guns fitted and loaded than the schooner yawed, and a shot came skipping along the water and disappeared close under their counter.“Not badly aimed,” observed True Blue, “but the range is too great. Paul, don’t you think that these long guns would carry farther?”“Wait a bit, Billy,” answered Paul; “we haven’t much powder or many shot to spare. We won’t throw away either till she gets a little nearer. Then you shall have it all your own way.”True Blue, with this promise, was eager for the Frenchman to get nearer. There had been no doubt that such the stranger was. Her own colours could not be seen; but, to make sure, Mr Nott first hoisted a French flag. No notice was taken of this. Then he hoisted the English ensign over the French, and immediately the stranger yawed and fired a bow-chaser.“You’d think it well to mystify them a little, sir,” observed Paul. “We should do that if we hoisted the French flag over the English.”This was done, and for some time no other shot was fired. Still the stranger seemed to be not altogether satisfied. The breeze was freshening all this time, and at length it became evident that the brig was carrying much more canvas than was necessary, unless she was trying to get away from the schooner. The stranger seemed to think so, at all events, and without yawing fired a shot as a signal to the chase to heave-to.This was what no one but the prisoners had the slightest wish to do; and so, as it was now getting dark, both flags were hauled down and not again hoisted.“Now, Billy,” said Paul, “let us see, my boy, what you can do.”True Blue was in his glory. He had a gun almost entirely to himself. Tim Fid acted the part of powder-monkey; while he and Hartland had charge of one gun, and Mr Nott, helped by Paul, worked the other. Paul, indeed, stepped from gun to gun as his services were required. Now they set to work in right earnest and began to blaze away as hard as they could, while Tom Marline stood at the helm and steered the flying brig. He had no easy work either, for, with the immense press of canvas she had on her and the strong breeze, it was with difficulty he could keep her on her course.True Blue was delighted to find that his shot, at all events, reached the enemy.“Paul, Paul, that shot hit her bows—I saw the splinters fly from them!” he exclaimed while he and Harry were again loading.“All right,” answered Paul, who likewise saw the effect of the shot. “Keep on like that, and you’ll soon bring down some of the chap’s spars.”Meantime, Mr Nott was working away manfully with his gun. He felt rather vexed to think that a ship’s boy was a better shot than himself; only just then, as he wished to preserve the brig, he was thankful to any one who could aid in accomplishing that object. Now and then the schooner fired; but as at each time, in order to do so, she had to yaw and then keep away, she fired much less frequently than the brig. The Frenchmen probably also judged that, as they were rapidly coming up with the chase, it was not worth while to throw their shot away. As the darkness increased, the wind got up more and more, and so did the sea, and all around looked very gloomy and threatening.“We must shorten sail, sir!” exclaimed Tom Marline at last, who had been looking up ever and anon at the bending, quivering spars.“Never mind, my man,” said Johnny Nott with the greatest coolness, “the brig will do that for herself better than we can. We have enough to do just now to try and wing the enemy.”There seemed a fair chance of their doing this. The guns were excellent, and True Blue’s gunnery was first-rate. But as the brig tumbled about and pitched more and more, he found greater difficulty in taking aim. Still he persevered, and so did Mr Nott; and as it was far too dark for them to see the effects of their shot, they both hoped that they were doing a great deal of damage. One thing concerned Paul exceedingly. He feared that, the instant they hauled their wind and got out of their previous course, the masts would go over the side.Still True Blue, regardless of everything else, kept firing away as fast as ever. What did he care what might happen besides just then? There was a fine brass gun he had been ordered to serve, and there was the enemy. The scud was flying rapidly overhead, the wind howled, the thunder roared, and flash after flash burst forth from the sky, mocking the tiny light of the British guns. The whole ocean was of a dark slaty hue, with white, hissing, foaming crests dancing up as far as the eye could reach, while many came hissing up and almost leaped on board. The brig went tearing along, her masts bending and writhing as if they were about to be torn out of her. Suddenly there was a terrific crash, and both the tall masts leant over and went by the board. Fortunately they fell forward and none of the party was hurt.“Well, we have shortened sail with a vengeance!” cried the midshipman, even at that moment unable to restrain a joke, though he felt in no joking mood. “Never mind the guns now. Let us clear the wreck. Perhaps the Frenchman may pass us in the dark.”This was a wise thought, as it was the best thing that could be done. With axes and knives they set energetically to work to cut the ropes which kept the masts and spars thumping against the vessel’s sides like battering-rams.While thus engaged, True Blue exclaimed:“See, see!—what is that?”All hands looked up. The dark outline of the schooner was visible flying by them. Just then a vivid flash of lightning darted from the sky. There was a loud crackling noise heard even amid the raging of the rising tempest; the flame ran down the schooner’s mainmast. Shrieks reached their ears; there was a loud roar like a single clap of thunder without an echo; the whole dark mass seemed to rise in the air, and here and there dark spots could be seen, and splashes could be heard close to the vessel, and for a few seconds flames burst forth from where the schooner had been seen; but in an instant they disappeared and not a trace of her could be discovered. The dismantled brig floated alone, surrounded by darkness on the wild tumultuous ocean.
The frigate did not remain long at Guernsey, but, with the rest of the squadron, put to sea. She soon separated from them, and stood down Channel to extend her cruise to the distance of a couple of hundred leagues or so to the westward of Cape Clear.
As usual, she was very successful and picked up several prizes. Among the prizes were three large merchantmen and two privateers. The latter, especially, required a considerable number of men to take them home. Captain Garland was unwilling thus to weaken his crew, and yet the prizes were too valuable to abandon. These vessels had just been despatched when a brig was descried from the masthead. Chase was given. She was a fast vessel and well handled, but before night she was come up with. When her Captain saw that he had no longer any hope of escape, he, like a wise man, hove to and hauled down his colours.
She proved to beLa Sybille, a French letter of marque, carrying eight guns, twenty-five men, and bound for the French West India Islands with a valuable cargo. The prisoners, with the exception of four, three white men and a black, who were left on board to assist in working her, were removed to the frigate; and Captain Garland, who could not spare any more lieutenants or mates, sent a midshipman and prize crew to take charge of her.
The midshipman’s name was Nott. He was generally called in the mess Johnny Nott. He was as short as his name, but he was a brave, dashing little fellow; but though he had been some time at sea, being very idle, his navigation, at all events, was not as first-rate as he managed to make it appear that it was when he had the honour of dining with his Captain. Captain Garland sent for him and told him that he would spare him two men and a couple of boys, and he expected that with them and the prisoners he would be able to carry the brig safe into Falmouth or Plymouth.
“I shall send one of the quartermasters with you, Pringle. He is a steady man; and you shall have Marline and Freeborn, who is as good as a man, and the boy Hartland: he is steady.”
“May I have Fid, sir, also?” put in Nott, who was always free-spoken and wonderfully at ease with his Captain. “He is such an amusing young dog. He’ll keep the rest alive by his jokes, if he does nothing else.”
“You may take him, Mr Nott; but take care that they don’t get to skylarking and fall overboard,” said the Captain.
“Oh no, sir,” answered the midshipman; “I’ll maintain the strictest discipline, and hope to have the brig safe in harbour in the course of a few days.”
Captain Garland smiled at the air with which Johnny Nott spoke, and, shaking him by the hand, sincerely wished him a prosperous passage.
Meantime the first lieutenant had sent for Paul Pringle, and, knowing how thoroughly he could be trusted, had given him his instructions to look after Mr Nott—in other words, to act as his dry-nurse.
“I need not tell you how to behave, Pringle,” observed the lieutenant. “You must advise him when to shorten sail, and what to do, indeed, under any emergency; and let him, as much as possible, suppose that he is following his own ideas.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Paul, not a little flattered. “I know pretty well how to speak to most of the young gentlemen; I always leave them to fancy that they are telling me what to do. Most young gentlemen nowadays are fond of ‘teaching their grandmothers to suck eggs,’ and I never stop them when they like to do it.”
“All right, then, Pringle,” answered Mr Brine; “we understand each other clearly. Keep order among the boys, and have an eye on the prisoners.”
All arrangements being made, Mr Nott, with his quadrant, book of navigation, and his crew, went on board the prize and took charge of her, instead of the officer who had boarded her when she was captured.
Scarcely had he got on board and made sail than a large ship was seen to the southwest. The frigate signalled the brig to continue on her course, and then stood away in chase of the stranger. Johnny Nott would much have liked to have gone too, for he could not help fancying that the stranger was an enemy, and if so, he knew full well that whatever her size, even should she happen to be a line-of-battle ship, his Captain would very likely bring her to action. Though he dared not follow her, he waited till he guessed that no one on board would be paying him any attention, and then, having persuaded himself that there would be no harm in so doing, hove the brig to, that he might have a better chance of ascertaining what might happen.
He then ordered True Blue to the masthead to watch the proceedings of the stranger. The wind was about north-west; the stranger was steering about east, and had apparently come from the southward. In a little time Billy hailed that she had brailed up her courses.
“Then, sir,” observed Paul, “depend on it she is an enemy.”
“I wonder what size she is? What do you think, Pringle?” asked the midshipman.
“Freeborn can tell better than any of us,” was the reply; and on Billy being hailed, he reported her a heavy frigate or a fifty-gun ship.
“I only hope our brightRubywon’t find that she has caught a Tartar, then,” said Johnny Nott. “I don’t think that we could be of much use if we were to go and try and help.”
“Never fear, sir,” observed Paul; “our Captain will know how to tackle with her, whatever she is.”
While this conversation was going forward, True Blue hailed that the frigate was again making signals, and on Johnny Nott referring to his book he discovered that it was a reprimand ordering him to make all sail to the eastward. Had he persevered in remaining hove to, he would have been guilty of an act of insubordination, and most reluctantly, therefore, he made sail and stood on his proper course.
When daylight returned the next morning the frigate was nowhere to be seen, andLa Sybillecontinued her solitary course towards England.
The Frenchmen had hitherto behaved in a perfectly orderly, quiet manner, and obeyed cheerfully the orders issued to them. No change, indeed, was exhibited towards their English captors; but they soon began to quarrel among themselves, and were constantly fighting and disputing. If they did not actually proceed to blows, they appeared every instant as if about to do so. Their conduct was reported to Mr Nott.
“No great harm in that,” he remarked. “If they are quarrelling among themselves, they are less likely to combine to play us any tricks.”
Not many hours had passed before, while he was below, one of the Frenchmen was left at the helm, and True Blue, who was forward, saw another come up on deck, and, with a capstan-bar in his hand, make a blow, so it seemed, at the helmsman’s head. He missed it, however, and the bar, descending with full force on the binnacle, smashed it and the compasses within it to pieces. Billy remarked the men. There was a great deal of jabbering, vociferation, and action, but neither of them struck or hurt the other.
As he watched them an idea occurred to him. “I don’t think those fellows did that by chance,” he said to himself. “I will keep an eye on them.”
The noise brought Mr Nott and Paul Pringle on deck.
“A pretty mess you have made, Messieurs,” observed the midshipman, who spoke a sufficient amount of bad French to make himself perfectly understood by them, and this was one of the reasons why he had been selected to command the brig. “If I was to give you four dozen each, or put you in irons, or stop your grog, you’d only get what you deserve. Now, go and find another compass and put the binnacle to rights. You Frenchmen are handy at that sort of thing.”
The men slunk off as if very much ashamed of themselves, and Paul Pringle took the helm. True Blue, however, watched them, and he was certain that there was a laugh in their eyes, giving evidence that they were well content with what they had done. When they went below also, they seemed to be on perfectly good terms with each other.
On search being made, no compass whatever was to be found.
“I thought that I had observed, when I first came on board, a spare compass and boat compass,” observed Mr Nott.
But the Frenchmen, on being interrogated, all declared that they were not aware that there were any others, and said that if there were, they were private property, and that the Captain had taken them with him. The other Frenchmen appeared to be very angry at what their countrymen had done, and did their best to ingratiate themselves with Mr Nott. The difficulty was now to know how to steer. The midshipman’s knowledge of navigation was put to a severe test. While the sky was clear, either by night or by day, it was tolerably easy to steer more or less to the eastward; but whether they should hit the chops of the Channel or run on shore on the coast of Ireland or France, or the Scilly Islands, it was impossible to say.
“We must do our best, sir, and trust in Providence,” observed Paul Pringle to the young officer. “Only there’s one thing I’d do—I’d rather steer to the nor’ard than the south’ard of our course, so as to avoid the chance of running ashore on the Frenchman’s coast. Of all the places I should hate most it would be a French prison.”
True Blue was certainly not of a suspicious disposition, but he could not help watching the Frenchmen. He whispered his ideas also to Harry and Tim Fid, who agreed to keep a watchful eye on the prisoners. Little did the Frenchmen think how narrowly all their proceedings were noted. Fid soon remarked that when either of the Frenchmen was at the helm, one of the others was constantly going to a chest in the forepeak and looking steadily into it. His curiosity was therefore aroused to ascertain what it was they went to look at. He reflected how he could discover this without being seen.
Some of the crew slept in the bunks or standing bed-places arranged along the sides of the vessel, but others in hammocks. The hammocks were, however, not sent up on deck every day as they are on board of a man-of-war. One of these hung over the Frenchmen’s chests, and into it Tim stowed himself away, making the lower surface smooth with the blankets, so that the form of his body should not be observed. A slight slit in the canvas enabled him to breathe and to look down below him. Poor Fid had to watch a considerable time, however, and felt sadly cramped and almost stifled without being the wiser for all the trouble he had taken. The Frenchmen were there; but first Tom Marline came below, and then Hartland, and then the black; and the Frenchmen sat on the lockers cutting out beef bones into various shapes and polishing them.
At last all but one man went on deck, and then he jumped up, and instantly going to the chest opened it; and then Tim saw clearly a compass, and, moreover, that the brig was steering a course considerably to the southward of east. The Frenchman then put his head up through the fore-hatchway, took a look round, and then, again diving into the forepeak, had another glance at the compass.
“That’s it,” thought Tim; “True Blue is right. The Frenchmen intend to run us near their own coast and then rise on us, or they hope to fall in with one of their own cruisers and be retaken. Small blame to them.”
The thread of his soliloquy was interrupted by his observing the Frenchman go to a chest on the opposite side, which, when opened, he saw was full of arms, cutlasses, long knives, and pistols. The man sat down by the side of it, and deliberately began to load one after the other, and then to arrange the knives and dirks, so that they could in an instant be drawn out for use.
“Ho, ho!” thought Tim; “that’s your plan, is it? Two can play at that game, we will show you!”
Fid was now very anxious to get out of his hiding-place, and to go and tell True Blue what he had seen. The Frenchman, however, after he had made all his arrangements, put a brace of pistols into his pocket and stuck a dirk into his belt, concealed by his jacket, sat down on a locker, and, with the greatest apparent unconcern, pursued his usual occupation of bone-cutting.
Fid grew more and more impatient. He waited some time longer, then he saw the man prick up his ears and listen eagerly. Presently there was the sound of a scuffle on deck. The Frenchman sprang up the ladder through the fore-hatch-way. As he did so a key fell from his pocket. The moment he was gone, Fid jumped out of his hiding-place, picked up the key, applied it to the chest which contained the arms—the lid flew open. He drew out several brace of pistols and a bundle of dirks. He stuck as many of both into his belt and pockets as he could carry, and hid the others in the hammock in which he had been concealed, while the key he also hid away. All was done as quick as lightning. Then, with a pistol in one hand and a dirk in the other, he followed the Frenchman up the hatchway.
As he did so he chanced to cast his eye aloft, when he saw True Blue in the fore-rigging. He signed to him to come on deck. Billy saw him, and slid down rapidly by the foretop-mast-stay. On looking aft they saw Hartland and Mr Nott stretched on the deck, apparently lifeless, while the three Frenchmen, with the black, were making a furious attack on Tom Marline, who had the helm, while Paul Pringle stood by defending him with a boat’s stretcher. Neither Pringle nor Marline had arms, while two of the Frenchmen and the black had dirks, and the third Frenchman, as Fid knew, had pistols. Fid immediately handed a brace of pistols and a dirk to True Blue, and together they rushed aft. Paul saw them coming, but the Frenchmen did not. One of them had cocked his pistol, and was taking a deliberate aim at Paul, when True Blue, who at that instant had reached the quarterdeck, lifted his arm and fired.
The Frenchman staggered a few paces, fired his pistol in the air, and then fell to the deck. To prevent his companions from seizing his weapons, Fid drew them from his pocket and bolted off with them round the deck. Before, however, the smoke of the pistol which True Blue had fired had cleared off, he had sprung to the side of Paul Pringle and handed him the remaining pistol and a dirk. Paul on this sprang on the Frenchmen.
The black was the first to fly. The other two men, finding themselves clearly overmatched, retreated forward and gained the fore-hatchway. It was blowing fresh, so that Marline was afraid if he left the wheel the brig would broach to. Consequently only Paul and True Blue pursued the Frenchmen. One of them leaped down the fore-hatchway. As he did so a pistol-shot was heard, and Fid immediately afterwards appeared at the same place, exclaiming:
“I’ve done for the fellow—settle the other two!”
Fid held a pistol in his hand. The black saw it, and sprang at the boy to seize it; but True Blue, who saw it also, was too quick for him, and had got hold of it just before the negro reached the spot. Fid sprang out of his way; and so eager had he been, that he pitched head-forward down the hatchway.
The last Frenchman attempted to defend himself; but when he saw Paul and the two lads with arms in their hands approaching him, while his companions were unable to assist him, he knew that resistance was useless and cried out for quarter.
“You don’t deserve it, Monsieur Crapaud,” answered Paul; “but I’m not the fellow to take a man’s life in cold blood. Howsomdever, there’s one thing I’ll take, and that is, good care you don’t attempt to play us such a trick again. Here, Billy, hand me that coil of rope. We’ll keep him out of harm for the present.”
Saying this, while True Blue stood by presenting a pistol at the prisoner’s head, Paul proceeded to lash his arms and legs, and to secure him to one of the guns.
“Well done, mate!” exclaimed Tom Marline from aft. “And now just come and have a look at Mr Nott. I think that he’s coming to.”
“And I do hope that Harry isn’t killed either!” cried Fid. “He’s breathing, and that’s more than dead men can do.”
In a little time both Mr Midshipman Nott and the boy Hartland came to themselves, and sat up rubbing their eyes, as if trying to understand what had occurred. The moment the truth flashed on Mr Nott’s mind, he sprang to his feet, and, seizing a stretcher, the nearest weapon he could lay hold of, stood on the defensive, looking about for an enemy.
He was much relieved in his mind when he saw one of the Frenchmen lying not far off dead on the deck, and another sitting bound, where Paul and True Blue had placed him, between the guns.
“What! have we come off victorious in the struggle?” he exclaimed, turning to Marline.
“Yes, sir,” answered the seaman, “we’ve been and drubbed the Monsieurs; but there are still two on ’em below kicking up a bobbery. If you’ll take the helm, sir, I’ll go and help Pringle to make them fast.”
“No, no,” answered the midshipman somewhat indignantly, as if his courage or strength had been called in question. “I can do that. You stay at the helm.”
When the Frenchman and the black had jumped down into the forepeak, Tim Fid had very wisely clapped the hatch on, so that they were left in darkness, and were also unable to return again on deck. Pringle was on the point of taking off the hatch to secure the two men when the midshipman got forward.
“Very glad, sir, to see you all to rights,” said Paul, looking up. “I suppose that you’ll wish us to get hold of the two fellows down below?”
“By all means. I’ll hail them and advise them to surrender at discretion.”
The hatch was taken off, and Mr Nott explained, as well as his limited knowledge of French would allow, that all their chance of success was gone. Only the black man answered. Mr Nott ordered him to come up.
“L’autre est mort,” (the other is dead), said he as he made his appearance, looking very much frightened.
“He is as treacherous as the rest; it will not do to let him be at liberty,” said Mr Nott. “It was he who knocked me down and began the mutiny.”
The black was accordingly lashed to a gun on the opposite side of the deck, facing his companion.
On going below they found that the Frenchman whom Fid had shot was not dead, having only been stunned by the fall. He would, however, very shortly have bled to death had they not bound up his wound. In mercy to the poor wretch, they placed him in a bunk, but did not tell him that either of his companions had escaped.
“Ah, I deserve my fate!” he observed to Mr Nott. “Had we succeeded, we should have thrown you all overboard and carried the vessel into a French port. There is a large sum of money on board stowed away below the after-lockers. It escaped the vigilance of the officers who examined the vessel. We knew of it, and for its sake we intended to get rid of you, that we might obtain possession of the whole.”
“Much obliged for your kind intentions,” answered Johnny, laughing. “The dollars we’ll look after, and you will consider yourself a prisoner in your berth till I give you leave to get out of it. If you put your head above the hatchway, you’ll be shot. That is an understood thing between us.”
The Frenchman could only make a grimace as a sign of his acquiescence.
“I’m in earnest, remember!” said Mr Nott as he climbed up the ladder on deck.
Fid now reported all that he had done, and he and True Blue received the praise from their young commander which they so fully merited. The compass was got up on deck and shipped in the binnacle, and the arms were carried aft and placed in the cabin. The other chests belonging to the Frenchmen were broken open; but nothing particular was found in them.
When all these arrangements were made, the officer and his small crew assembled on deck to hold a council of war.
“The first thing we had better do, sir, is to shorten sail, seeing how shorthanded we are,” observed Paul Pringle. “We couldn’t do it in a hurry, and if it comes on to blow, our spars and sails may be carried away before we know where we are.”
This advice was too good to be neglected. “Then, sir, as these Frenchmen have been steering to the southward and east whenever they have had the helm, oughtn’t we to steer so much to the nor’ard to make up for the distance we have run out of our course?” observed True Blue with much modesty.
“Capital idea, Freeborn!” exclaimed the midshipman with a patronising air. “You’ve a very good notion of navigation; we’ll do it.”
Mr Nott now took the helm, while the crew went aloft to furl the lighter canvas and to take a reef in the topsails. While True Blue was on his way up to hand the main-royal, his eye fell on a vessel following directly in the wake of the brig, which might have been seen long before had not they all been so fully occupied. He hailed Mr Nott and pointed her out.
The midshipman, who, from being at the helm, could not at the same time take a steady look at her, inquired what she was like. “A schooner, sir, with a wide spread of canvas,” answered True Blue. “She seems to be coming up fast with us.”
“All hands come down on deck!” shouted Mr Nott. He then asked Paul what he thought of the stranger.
“She does not look like an English craft, and may be an enemy—a privateer probably,” was the answer. “I suppose, sir, you’ll think fit to hold on and try and get away from her?” continued Paul. “It will soon be growing dark, and if the weather becomes thick, as it promises to do, we may alter our course without being discovered.”
“Yes, exactly—that is just my idea,” observed Mr Nott. “We could not have hit upon a better.”
The sail was consequently not taken off the brig, which, under other circumstances, it ought to have been; and on she stood, the breeze gradually increasing, and the weather becoming more and more unsettled. Mr Nott watched the schooner. It was very clear that she was gaining on the brig.
“It is very probable that we shall have to fight, after all,” he said to himself. “So, as the Captain always makes a speech to the crew before a battle is begun, I think I ought to do so.”
Accordingly, calling all hands aft, he cleared his throat and began. “My lads,” he said, imitating as well as he could the tone and manner of Captain Garland, “we shall very likely have to fight that fellow astern of us. You’ll do your duty like true Britons, I know you will—you always do. We will take her if we can. If not, we’ll try to get away from her; but if we cannot do either, we’ll blow up the brig and go down with our colours flying. I don’t think that it matters much which. Both are equally glorious modes of proceeding.”
True Blue was very much taken with the speech, and told Harry Hartland that it was just what he thought they ought to do; but Tim Fid said that he hadn’t made up his mind which he should prefer. Blowing up was very fine to look at, but going down must be a very disagreeable sensation.
Paul, meantime, took off his hat to reply. “As you wish it, Mr Nott, we’ll fight the brig to the last, and maybe we shall knock away some of her spars and get off. I don’t think we shall have much chance of taking her, and as to blowing up or going down with our colours flying, if the enemy send their shot through her sides, between wind and water, and won’t take us on board, we can’t help ourselves; but perhaps, sir, you’ll just think over the matter about blowing up. It would be like throwing our best chance away. I for one don’t wish to see the inside of a French prison; but you know, sir, even if we are taken, we may have a chance of being retaken before we get into a French port, or of escaping even when we are there. Now, if we blow ourselves up into the air, we shall have no chance of either.”
“Very true, Pringle, very true,” answered the midshipman; “I did not think of that. Well, we won’t blow ourselves up; and if we find our brig sinking, we’ll strike our flag and yield. There’ll be no dishonour in doing that, I hope. Several brave officers have been obliged to strike to a superior force at times; so it will be all proper, but it’s what the Frenchmen are more accustomed to do than we are.”
There was no sun visible, so Mr Nott looked at his watch and found that there would be scarcely more than an hour of daylight.
“If we can but keep ahead, we shall do,” he remarked.
Paul agreed with him in this, but suggested that, by cutting away the stern-boat, and by making two temporary ports in her stern, they might fight a couple of long brass guns which they had found on board. This idea was immediately adopted, and all hands set to work to get the guns and tackle ready, while Paul, with an axe, soon made the required ports. He was not very particular as to their appearance. With the aid of the timber-heads, there were already a sufficient number of ringbolts to enable them to work the tackles.
All this time the schooner was gaining on them. Scarcely were these two guns fitted and loaded than the schooner yawed, and a shot came skipping along the water and disappeared close under their counter.
“Not badly aimed,” observed True Blue, “but the range is too great. Paul, don’t you think that these long guns would carry farther?”
“Wait a bit, Billy,” answered Paul; “we haven’t much powder or many shot to spare. We won’t throw away either till she gets a little nearer. Then you shall have it all your own way.”
True Blue, with this promise, was eager for the Frenchman to get nearer. There had been no doubt that such the stranger was. Her own colours could not be seen; but, to make sure, Mr Nott first hoisted a French flag. No notice was taken of this. Then he hoisted the English ensign over the French, and immediately the stranger yawed and fired a bow-chaser.
“You’d think it well to mystify them a little, sir,” observed Paul. “We should do that if we hoisted the French flag over the English.”
This was done, and for some time no other shot was fired. Still the stranger seemed to be not altogether satisfied. The breeze was freshening all this time, and at length it became evident that the brig was carrying much more canvas than was necessary, unless she was trying to get away from the schooner. The stranger seemed to think so, at all events, and without yawing fired a shot as a signal to the chase to heave-to.
This was what no one but the prisoners had the slightest wish to do; and so, as it was now getting dark, both flags were hauled down and not again hoisted.
“Now, Billy,” said Paul, “let us see, my boy, what you can do.”
True Blue was in his glory. He had a gun almost entirely to himself. Tim Fid acted the part of powder-monkey; while he and Hartland had charge of one gun, and Mr Nott, helped by Paul, worked the other. Paul, indeed, stepped from gun to gun as his services were required. Now they set to work in right earnest and began to blaze away as hard as they could, while Tom Marline stood at the helm and steered the flying brig. He had no easy work either, for, with the immense press of canvas she had on her and the strong breeze, it was with difficulty he could keep her on her course.
True Blue was delighted to find that his shot, at all events, reached the enemy.
“Paul, Paul, that shot hit her bows—I saw the splinters fly from them!” he exclaimed while he and Harry were again loading.
“All right,” answered Paul, who likewise saw the effect of the shot. “Keep on like that, and you’ll soon bring down some of the chap’s spars.”
Meantime, Mr Nott was working away manfully with his gun. He felt rather vexed to think that a ship’s boy was a better shot than himself; only just then, as he wished to preserve the brig, he was thankful to any one who could aid in accomplishing that object. Now and then the schooner fired; but as at each time, in order to do so, she had to yaw and then keep away, she fired much less frequently than the brig. The Frenchmen probably also judged that, as they were rapidly coming up with the chase, it was not worth while to throw their shot away. As the darkness increased, the wind got up more and more, and so did the sea, and all around looked very gloomy and threatening.
“We must shorten sail, sir!” exclaimed Tom Marline at last, who had been looking up ever and anon at the bending, quivering spars.
“Never mind, my man,” said Johnny Nott with the greatest coolness, “the brig will do that for herself better than we can. We have enough to do just now to try and wing the enemy.”
There seemed a fair chance of their doing this. The guns were excellent, and True Blue’s gunnery was first-rate. But as the brig tumbled about and pitched more and more, he found greater difficulty in taking aim. Still he persevered, and so did Mr Nott; and as it was far too dark for them to see the effects of their shot, they both hoped that they were doing a great deal of damage. One thing concerned Paul exceedingly. He feared that, the instant they hauled their wind and got out of their previous course, the masts would go over the side.
Still True Blue, regardless of everything else, kept firing away as fast as ever. What did he care what might happen besides just then? There was a fine brass gun he had been ordered to serve, and there was the enemy. The scud was flying rapidly overhead, the wind howled, the thunder roared, and flash after flash burst forth from the sky, mocking the tiny light of the British guns. The whole ocean was of a dark slaty hue, with white, hissing, foaming crests dancing up as far as the eye could reach, while many came hissing up and almost leaped on board. The brig went tearing along, her masts bending and writhing as if they were about to be torn out of her. Suddenly there was a terrific crash, and both the tall masts leant over and went by the board. Fortunately they fell forward and none of the party was hurt.
“Well, we have shortened sail with a vengeance!” cried the midshipman, even at that moment unable to restrain a joke, though he felt in no joking mood. “Never mind the guns now. Let us clear the wreck. Perhaps the Frenchman may pass us in the dark.”
This was a wise thought, as it was the best thing that could be done. With axes and knives they set energetically to work to cut the ropes which kept the masts and spars thumping against the vessel’s sides like battering-rams.
While thus engaged, True Blue exclaimed:
“See, see!—what is that?”
All hands looked up. The dark outline of the schooner was visible flying by them. Just then a vivid flash of lightning darted from the sky. There was a loud crackling noise heard even amid the raging of the rising tempest; the flame ran down the schooner’s mainmast. Shrieks reached their ears; there was a loud roar like a single clap of thunder without an echo; the whole dark mass seemed to rise in the air, and here and there dark spots could be seen, and splashes could be heard close to the vessel, and for a few seconds flames burst forth from where the schooner had been seen; but in an instant they disappeared and not a trace of her could be discovered. The dismantled brig floated alone, surrounded by darkness on the wild tumultuous ocean.
Chapter Thirteen.The dismasted brig lay tumbling about, utterly helpless. Neither moon nor stars were visible. The seas came roaring up around her, now throwing her on one side, now on the other. Her stern-boat had already been cut adrift.Not long after the disappearance of the schooner, a sea struck her quarter and carried away one of the boats on that side, and at the next roll the one on the opposite quarter went.Mr Nott, with Paul and Marline, and the three boys, were clustered aft.“Paul,” observed True Blue, “the Frenchman and black can’t play us any tricks now. They run a great chance of being drowned where they are; couldn’t we cast them loose and let them come aft here?”“Right, Billy,” answered Paul. “We should be merciful even to our enemies. I had forgotten them.”Mr Nott offering no objection, Paul and True Blue worked their way to the waist, where the two men sat bound. Paul loosened the Frenchman, and True Blue took out his knife and cut the lashings which bound the black; and then, assisting him up on his legs, pointed aft, and by a push in that direction intimated that he had better get there as soon as possible.Billy then bethought him of the wounded prisoner in the dark damp forepeak, all alone, expecting every instant to be his last. “I shouldn’t like to be left thus,” he thought; “I’ll go and see what I can do for him.”Without, therefore, telling Paul what he was going to do, he worked his way gradually forward, grasping tightly on by the belaying-pins and cleats made fast to the bulwarks.Just as he got close to the fore-hatch, he saw rolling up, just ahead of the vessel, what looked like a huge black mountain with a snowy top. It was a vast sea appearing still larger in the darkness. On it rolled, roaring above the bows of the brig, and then with a terrific crash down it came on her deck, threatening to swamp her and sweeping everything before it.True Blue’s foot had been pressing against a ringbolt: a rope was made fast to it. He threw himself flat down, grasping the ring with one hand and making several turns with the rope round the other. He felt the breath almost pressed out of his body with the weight of water rushing above him; and then he fancied that the vessel herself was going down and would never rise again.The rush and the roaring sound of water passed on. He felt the bows of the brig rise once more; he lifted himself up on his knees and looked over his shoulder. The sea had made a clean sweep, and had carried away the caboose, the boats on the booms, and every spar remaining on deck, besides, as it appeared to him, a considerable portion of the larboard bulwarks.His anxiety was for his shipmates. How had they withstood the rush of waters? He shouted; but though his voice was loud and shrill, the howling of the tempest and the dash of the sea were louder. He tried to penetrate the darkness, but he could distinguish nothing beyond half the length of the ship. His heart sank lower than it had ever done before at the thought that his faithful kind guardian might be torn from him for ever.Having started to visit the wounded Frenchman, he wished to do so before he tried to find his way aft again to ascertain the state of the case. He lifted the hatch off and dived below. All was dark. There were no means of procuring a light in the place.“I say, Monsieur Frenchman, how are you?” he began, groping his way towards the bunk where the prisoner lay.A groan showed that the man was not dead. True Blue remembered that there was some food in one of the lockers. Taking some sausages and biscuit, he put them into the man’s hand. “Here, eat; you’re hungry, I daresay.”“Merci! merci! de l’eau-de-vie, je vous prie, donnez-moi de l’eau-de-vie.”Billy, on searching about, had found a can with a little water at the bottom of it, and a flask of spirits; so, guessing what the man wanted, he poured some of the spirits into the can and gave it to him.The draught must have been very refreshing, for the Frenchman’s expression of gratitude knew no limits. He made True Blue understand that he had better take something himself. This, as he was very hungry, he was nothing loth to do; but he had not eaten much, and had only taken one pull at the grog can when he recollected his friends. He felt that he could eat nothing more until he had ascertained their fate.“If they are alive, they’ll want to eat,” he said to himself. “They can’t be gone—no, no; I won’t believe it.”So he filled his pockets with as many sausages and as much biscuit as they could carry, and, shaking the Frenchman by the hand to show that he would not be forgotten, he ascended the ladder, closed the fore-hatch behind him, and began his perilous journey towards the stern. The sea on one side, he discovered, had made so complete a wreck, that he knew, should he slip, there would be nothing to prevent his going overboard.The greatest caution therefore was necessary. He could feel the ringbolts, but he could not see them, or indeed any object by which to secure himself. On hands and knees he crept on, feeling his way. He had got as far as the main hatchway when he saw another sea rising. He clung, as before, to a ringbolt. Over came the water with a furious rush, which would have carried any one unprepared for it away. He felt his arm strained to the utmost; still he had no notion of letting go. When the sea had passed over, the vessel was steadier for an instant than she had been. He took the opportunity to make a bold rush to the nearest part of the bulwarks remaining entire. He now got aft with less difficulty. His heart felt lighter when he saw the group he expected standing there; but Paul didn’t come forward to welcome him. Instead, he heard Marline’s voice say, “Rouse up, Pringle; rouse up, mate—the boy is safe.”True Blue was in an instant kneeling down by the side of his guardian. “I am here, Paul, I am here; Billy True Blue all right, godfather!” he exclaimed, putting his mouth to Paul’s ear.“What has happened? Is he hurt?” he asked.“He has hurt his side and ribs, and we are afraid he has broken his leg,” answered Marline. “We all thought that you were gone—washed clean away, boy; but he wouldn’t believe it, and started off to look for you, when a sea took him and washed him back in the state you now see him. He was nearly carried overboard, and we have had hard work to save him.”True Blue forgot everything else but the state of his friend, till at length Paul came to himself and comprehended what had occurred. The knowledge that his godson was safe seemed to revive him. Billy then remembered the provisions he had got in his pocket, and served them out among his companions, the two prisoners getting an equal share.Dawn came at last, and presented a fearful scene of wreck and confusion: the dark-green seas were rising up on every side, topped with foam, which came down in showers on the deck, blown off by the fierce wind; while the lately trim brig lay shattered and dismantled, and, too evidently, far deeper in the water than she had been before the gale.Not a boat remained; there were not even the means of making a raft.“But what can we do, Paul?” asked True Blue, thinking how sad it was that his fine old friend should thus ingloriously lose his life. Paul smiled as he answered:“Trust in Providence, boy. That’s the best sheet-anchor a seaman can hold to when he’s done his duty and can do no more. There are others as badly off as we are, depend on that.”When his godfather had ceased speaking, True Blue cast his eye around in the faint hope that some aid might possibly be at hand. As he did so, he saw that several pieces of wreck were floating round the brig. As the light increased, he thought he saw the form of a man on one of them. He looked again; he pointed the spar out to the rest: they were of the same opinion. The man was alive, too. He saw the wreck, he waved to them, he turned his face with a look imploring assistance.“Here, Tom, make this rope fast round me; I think that I can reach that poor fellow. The next send of the sea will bring him close alongside.”Though True Blue was a first-rate swimmer for his age, Marline demurred and appealed to Pringle.“He is only a Frenchman and an enemy, after all,” argued Marline.“He’s a fellow-creature, Tom,” answered True Blue. “Here, make fast the rope. I am sure I can save him.”“Will you let him go, Paul?” asked Tom as a last resource.Paul raised himself on his arm.“If the lad thinks it’s his duty to try and save the man, yes,” he answered firmly. “If he loses his life, it will be just as a true British sailor should wish to lose it. Go, boy; Heaven preserve you.”There was an unusual tone of solemnity and dignity in the way Paul spoke as he grasped his godson’s hand. The rope had by this time been properly adjusted. The piece of wreck with the man on it was drifting nearer and nearer. The man on it again waved his hand. True Blue waved his in return. “He is alive!—he is alive!” he shouted.“If go you must, now is your time,” shouted Tom.True Blue leaped off the deck into the raging sea. Boldly he struck out. Down came a sea thundering towards him, hurling the spar with it. There was a shriek of horror: all on board thought he was lost. He had only dived to avoid the sea. Then up again he was on the other side, clinging on to the spar, with his knife in his mouth, ready to cut the lashings which secured the stranger to it. It was done in a moment. He had him tight round the waist.The stranger is now seen to be a boy not bigger than himself. This makes his task easier. The spar drifts away; the two are in the water together.Tom and Mr Nott, and the other boys, and the Frenchman and the black, haul away, and, with some severe bruises, rescuer and rescued are safely brought on deck.“It’s Sir Henry, I do believe!” shouted Tom, hauling in the rope.“Why, Elmore, my dear fellow, is it you?” exclaimed Johnny Nott, taking the hand of the lad, who, with True Blue, had been dragged aft and placed in as safe a spot as the deck afforded. “We thought you were a Frenchman.”“I scarcely know who I am. I know that I have to thank Freeborn for my preservation,” answered the young baronet.He took True Blue’s hand.“I do thank you heartily, Freeborn,” he said with much emotion.The excitement of the first minutes of his wonderful preservation over, young Elmore felt the effects of the exposure to which he had been subjected so long, and sank almost helpless on the deck.“He wants food,” said Tom. “I wish that we had some.” True Blue instantly volunteered to try and go and get it; but of this the rest would not hear.Marline said he would go; but he was wanted to look after the rest, and take care of poor Pringle, who was utterly unable to help himself. Neither the Frenchman nor the black volunteered to go. The truth was, they dared not face the danger.“I’ll go if I may!” exclaimed Tim Fid. “If I am not strong, I’m little, and a shrimp can swim where a big fish would be knocked to pieces.”“Stay, though,” said True Blue. “Here, make fast the rope round you. If you are washed away, we can haul you in by it. It served me a good turn, it will now serve you one.”“A good thought,” said Tim, fastening the rope round his waist, and away he went. He worked his way forward, as, True Blue had done; but just as he was in the middle of the waist, a sea swept the deck, and would have carried him off had it not been for the rope round him.He was hauled back not a little bruised. Still he insisted on making another attempt. Having kicked off his shoes, away he went. The deck was clearer than usual of water. He ran and leaped along, and before another sea came had reached the fore-hatch. His first care was to make the rope fast to the windlass. Then he slipped off the hatch and descended. He soon again appeared, and succeeded in reaching the after part of the vessel with a good supply of food and a can.“There,” he said, “that’s full of honest grog; it will do all hands good. But, I say, we must try and get the poor Frenchman up out of his bunk. He’ll be drowned in it if we don’t in a short time.”It was agreed that the Frenchman and the black ought to perform the duty; but it was not till they had taken several pulls at the grog can that they seemed to understand what was required of them. Even then Mr Nott had to show a pistol, and hint that they should not remain where they were if they did not go and help the wounded man.The rope which Fid secured made the task comparatively, easy. Led by the little fellow himself, at last they set off. When they got below, they found so much water that the poor fellow was very nearly washed out of his berth. They managed, however, to get him on deck. To carry him aft, however, was the most difficult part of their task. As it was, the Frenchman, in his anxiety to take care of himself, let go his hold of his wounded countryman; and had it not been for Fid and the black, he would have been washed overboard.At length they reached the stern in safety. The account Fid gave, however, of the quantity of water below, was truly appalling. They could not hope that the brig could swim many hours longer, and should she go down, they had nothing on which to float; the boats were gone, not a spar remained. There were the hatches, certainly; but there would scarcely be time to construct a raft out of them.Mr Nott had, during this time, been attending to his messmate. It was some time before young Elmore again revived.Nott was curious to know how his messmate had come to be on board the schooner which had chased them.“I will tell you in a few words,” said Elmore. “We had not parted company with the frigate many hours before a strange sail hove in sight. As I knew that we could gain but little by fighting should the stranger prove an enemy, we did our best to run away. The prize, however, sailed badly, and the stranger, which turned out to be a large schooner, sailed remarkably well. We had a couple of guns; so we fired away with them as long as we could till she ranged up alongside, when a number of men leaped on our decks and we were obliged to give in. I was carried on board the schooner; but the rest of the men were left on board the brig to work her, so that I hope that their lives may have been preserved. She was a privateer out of Saint Malo. Your determined attempt to escape excited their anger to the highest degree; and at the very moment that the vessel was struck by lightning, from the effects of which she foundered, they were swearing vengeance against you, wherever you might be. Their terrific shrieks and cries, as one after the other they were overwhelmed by the waves, made my heart sink within me. Still I determined not to yield as long as my strength endured, and I struck out for dear life. I soon found myself close to a shattered spar, to which was attached a quantity of rigging. I climbed up and lashed myself securely to it. Thus I passed the night. I more than once thought I saw the dismantled brig; and you may fancy my joy when I caught sight of her at dawn. Still I scarcely expected that anybody on board would be able to render me assistance; and when I saw that all her boats were gone, I almost gave up hope. I have not thanked Freeborn as I wish; but I have those at home who will thank him still more, if we are allowed to reach dry land, and I am sure our Captain will thank him too.”While the lads had been talking, the appearance of the sky gave evident signs that the gale was breaking. Still the sea ran very high, and the waterlogged wreck laboured in a way which made it doubtful whether each plunge she made would not prove her last. She sunk lower and lower, and it was very evident that in a short time no part of her deck would be tenable. Anxiously, therefore, all eyes were looking out for a sail. Each time that the brig rose to the top of a sea, they all looked out on every side, in the hope of catching a glimpse of some approaching vessel; and blank was the feeling when she again sunk down into the deep trough and they knew that no help was near.Suddenly True Blue shouted out, “A sail! a sail!—she is standing towards us!” He had seen her before, but was uncertain which way she was steering, and he had not forgotten a caution given to him by Paul—never to raise hopes when there is a likelihood of their being disappointed.The sea had for some time been decreasing; but there was still so much that a boat would run considerable risk in boarding the wreck. It was soon proved that True Blue was right. The stranger was steering towards them. On she came. She was a brig, and showed English colours.A cheer rose from the deck of the waterlogged vessel. The brig came down in gallant style; but she gave evident signs that she also had been battling with the gale. Her bulwarks were shattered, and not a boat was to be seen on board. Her flag showed her to be a packet. A fine-looking man stood in the main-rigging.The midshipmen shouted, “We are going down, we fear. Can you render assistance?”“Ay, ay—that I will!” answered the master of the packet. “I will run alongside you. Stand by to leap on board!”The least experienced of the party saw the great risk the packet was running by this proceeding; for a send of the sea might easily have driven the wreck against her and stove in her upper works. This consideration did not deter the gallant sailor from his act of mercy. He made a signal as he approached, that he would pass the wreck on the larboard quarter. The Frenchman and the black were told that they must help their wounded shipmate. Tom and True Blue begged that they might take charge of Paul, while the rest were to leap on board the instant the vessels’ sides touched. The midshipmen and the two boys wanted to stay and help Paul, but he would not hear of this.“No, no,” he answered; “if we talk about it, no one will be saved; and if I am left on board, I shall be no worse off than we all have been till now.”The packet tacked. Now she stood down towards the wreck. The sides of the two vessels touched. The midshipmen and two boys leaped on board. So did the Frenchman and the black; they made a pretence of helping their comrade, it seemed. They placed him on the bulwarks of the wreck, and then, when safe themselves, they were about to regain their hold of him; but the poor wretch lost his balance, and with a cry of horror fell between the two vessels. The two men looked over the side with stupid dismay, abusing each other; but their unfortunate comrade had sunk for ever from their sight.Meanwhile Tom and True Blue had made an attempt to lift Paul on board the packet. Had her crew known his condition, they probably would have been ready to render assistance; as it was, his two friends, fearful of letting him slip between the two vessels, lost the moment as the brig glided by, and all three were left on the sinking wreck.“Why have you done this?” said Paul when he saw that the packet had shot ahead. “You should have left me, boys.”“Left you, Paul!” exclaimed True Blue with an emotion he rarely exhibited. “How can you say that? Please Heaven, we’ll save you yet.”There was no necessity for hailing the packet. They knew well that the two midshipmen would make every effort in their power to render them assistance. Once more the brig tacked and stood towards them; but the position of the wreck had changed, and it was impossible to run alongside.Again and again the gallant Captain of the packet tried the manoeuvre without success. At last, passing close to them, he shouted, “Lads, I will heave you ropes; you must make yourselves fast to them and jump overboard: it’s your only chance.”“Tom, you must do it!” said True Blue, turning to Marline. “It would kill Paul; I’ll stay by him. We shall be taken off when the weather moderates; and if not, I’m ready to go down with him.”Paul heard this. “True Blue, I’m your guardian, and you must obey me!” he said almost sternly. “The ducking won’t hurt me more than others. Maybe it may do me good. So, I say, make the rope fast round me, and help me overboard when you two go, and I shall not be the worse for it.”Thus commanded, True Blue could no longer refuse obedience. Down came the packet towards them. The ropes were hove on board.“Tom, you can’t swim—go by yourself. I’ll stay by Paul!” exclaimed True Blue as he was securing the rope. “Help me to launch him first. Away, now!”Paul was lowered into the water, True Blue keeping tight hold of the rope just at his waist with his left hand, while he struck out with his right. Thus the two together were drawn through the foaming sea towards the packet. Arrived at the vessel’s side, True Blue was of the greatest service to Paul in protecting him from the blows he would otherwise have received by the sea driving him against it.Right hearty was the welcome they received from all hands, especially from the gallant commander, Captain Jones.Scarcely had the packet got a hundred fathoms from the brig when she was seen to make a plunge forward. The two midshipmen were watching her, expecting to see her rise again. They rubbed their eyes. Another sea rolled over the spot where she had been, but no sign of her was there.
The dismasted brig lay tumbling about, utterly helpless. Neither moon nor stars were visible. The seas came roaring up around her, now throwing her on one side, now on the other. Her stern-boat had already been cut adrift.
Not long after the disappearance of the schooner, a sea struck her quarter and carried away one of the boats on that side, and at the next roll the one on the opposite quarter went.
Mr Nott, with Paul and Marline, and the three boys, were clustered aft.
“Paul,” observed True Blue, “the Frenchman and black can’t play us any tricks now. They run a great chance of being drowned where they are; couldn’t we cast them loose and let them come aft here?”
“Right, Billy,” answered Paul. “We should be merciful even to our enemies. I had forgotten them.”
Mr Nott offering no objection, Paul and True Blue worked their way to the waist, where the two men sat bound. Paul loosened the Frenchman, and True Blue took out his knife and cut the lashings which bound the black; and then, assisting him up on his legs, pointed aft, and by a push in that direction intimated that he had better get there as soon as possible.
Billy then bethought him of the wounded prisoner in the dark damp forepeak, all alone, expecting every instant to be his last. “I shouldn’t like to be left thus,” he thought; “I’ll go and see what I can do for him.”
Without, therefore, telling Paul what he was going to do, he worked his way gradually forward, grasping tightly on by the belaying-pins and cleats made fast to the bulwarks.
Just as he got close to the fore-hatch, he saw rolling up, just ahead of the vessel, what looked like a huge black mountain with a snowy top. It was a vast sea appearing still larger in the darkness. On it rolled, roaring above the bows of the brig, and then with a terrific crash down it came on her deck, threatening to swamp her and sweeping everything before it.
True Blue’s foot had been pressing against a ringbolt: a rope was made fast to it. He threw himself flat down, grasping the ring with one hand and making several turns with the rope round the other. He felt the breath almost pressed out of his body with the weight of water rushing above him; and then he fancied that the vessel herself was going down and would never rise again.
The rush and the roaring sound of water passed on. He felt the bows of the brig rise once more; he lifted himself up on his knees and looked over his shoulder. The sea had made a clean sweep, and had carried away the caboose, the boats on the booms, and every spar remaining on deck, besides, as it appeared to him, a considerable portion of the larboard bulwarks.
His anxiety was for his shipmates. How had they withstood the rush of waters? He shouted; but though his voice was loud and shrill, the howling of the tempest and the dash of the sea were louder. He tried to penetrate the darkness, but he could distinguish nothing beyond half the length of the ship. His heart sank lower than it had ever done before at the thought that his faithful kind guardian might be torn from him for ever.
Having started to visit the wounded Frenchman, he wished to do so before he tried to find his way aft again to ascertain the state of the case. He lifted the hatch off and dived below. All was dark. There were no means of procuring a light in the place.
“I say, Monsieur Frenchman, how are you?” he began, groping his way towards the bunk where the prisoner lay.
A groan showed that the man was not dead. True Blue remembered that there was some food in one of the lockers. Taking some sausages and biscuit, he put them into the man’s hand. “Here, eat; you’re hungry, I daresay.”
“Merci! merci! de l’eau-de-vie, je vous prie, donnez-moi de l’eau-de-vie.”
Billy, on searching about, had found a can with a little water at the bottom of it, and a flask of spirits; so, guessing what the man wanted, he poured some of the spirits into the can and gave it to him.
The draught must have been very refreshing, for the Frenchman’s expression of gratitude knew no limits. He made True Blue understand that he had better take something himself. This, as he was very hungry, he was nothing loth to do; but he had not eaten much, and had only taken one pull at the grog can when he recollected his friends. He felt that he could eat nothing more until he had ascertained their fate.
“If they are alive, they’ll want to eat,” he said to himself. “They can’t be gone—no, no; I won’t believe it.”
So he filled his pockets with as many sausages and as much biscuit as they could carry, and, shaking the Frenchman by the hand to show that he would not be forgotten, he ascended the ladder, closed the fore-hatch behind him, and began his perilous journey towards the stern. The sea on one side, he discovered, had made so complete a wreck, that he knew, should he slip, there would be nothing to prevent his going overboard.
The greatest caution therefore was necessary. He could feel the ringbolts, but he could not see them, or indeed any object by which to secure himself. On hands and knees he crept on, feeling his way. He had got as far as the main hatchway when he saw another sea rising. He clung, as before, to a ringbolt. Over came the water with a furious rush, which would have carried any one unprepared for it away. He felt his arm strained to the utmost; still he had no notion of letting go. When the sea had passed over, the vessel was steadier for an instant than she had been. He took the opportunity to make a bold rush to the nearest part of the bulwarks remaining entire. He now got aft with less difficulty. His heart felt lighter when he saw the group he expected standing there; but Paul didn’t come forward to welcome him. Instead, he heard Marline’s voice say, “Rouse up, Pringle; rouse up, mate—the boy is safe.”
True Blue was in an instant kneeling down by the side of his guardian. “I am here, Paul, I am here; Billy True Blue all right, godfather!” he exclaimed, putting his mouth to Paul’s ear.
“What has happened? Is he hurt?” he asked.
“He has hurt his side and ribs, and we are afraid he has broken his leg,” answered Marline. “We all thought that you were gone—washed clean away, boy; but he wouldn’t believe it, and started off to look for you, when a sea took him and washed him back in the state you now see him. He was nearly carried overboard, and we have had hard work to save him.”
True Blue forgot everything else but the state of his friend, till at length Paul came to himself and comprehended what had occurred. The knowledge that his godson was safe seemed to revive him. Billy then remembered the provisions he had got in his pocket, and served them out among his companions, the two prisoners getting an equal share.
Dawn came at last, and presented a fearful scene of wreck and confusion: the dark-green seas were rising up on every side, topped with foam, which came down in showers on the deck, blown off by the fierce wind; while the lately trim brig lay shattered and dismantled, and, too evidently, far deeper in the water than she had been before the gale.
Not a boat remained; there were not even the means of making a raft.
“But what can we do, Paul?” asked True Blue, thinking how sad it was that his fine old friend should thus ingloriously lose his life. Paul smiled as he answered:
“Trust in Providence, boy. That’s the best sheet-anchor a seaman can hold to when he’s done his duty and can do no more. There are others as badly off as we are, depend on that.”
When his godfather had ceased speaking, True Blue cast his eye around in the faint hope that some aid might possibly be at hand. As he did so, he saw that several pieces of wreck were floating round the brig. As the light increased, he thought he saw the form of a man on one of them. He looked again; he pointed the spar out to the rest: they were of the same opinion. The man was alive, too. He saw the wreck, he waved to them, he turned his face with a look imploring assistance.
“Here, Tom, make this rope fast round me; I think that I can reach that poor fellow. The next send of the sea will bring him close alongside.”
Though True Blue was a first-rate swimmer for his age, Marline demurred and appealed to Pringle.
“He is only a Frenchman and an enemy, after all,” argued Marline.
“He’s a fellow-creature, Tom,” answered True Blue. “Here, make fast the rope. I am sure I can save him.”
“Will you let him go, Paul?” asked Tom as a last resource.
Paul raised himself on his arm.
“If the lad thinks it’s his duty to try and save the man, yes,” he answered firmly. “If he loses his life, it will be just as a true British sailor should wish to lose it. Go, boy; Heaven preserve you.”
There was an unusual tone of solemnity and dignity in the way Paul spoke as he grasped his godson’s hand. The rope had by this time been properly adjusted. The piece of wreck with the man on it was drifting nearer and nearer. The man on it again waved his hand. True Blue waved his in return. “He is alive!—he is alive!” he shouted.
“If go you must, now is your time,” shouted Tom.
True Blue leaped off the deck into the raging sea. Boldly he struck out. Down came a sea thundering towards him, hurling the spar with it. There was a shriek of horror: all on board thought he was lost. He had only dived to avoid the sea. Then up again he was on the other side, clinging on to the spar, with his knife in his mouth, ready to cut the lashings which secured the stranger to it. It was done in a moment. He had him tight round the waist.
The stranger is now seen to be a boy not bigger than himself. This makes his task easier. The spar drifts away; the two are in the water together.
Tom and Mr Nott, and the other boys, and the Frenchman and the black, haul away, and, with some severe bruises, rescuer and rescued are safely brought on deck.
“It’s Sir Henry, I do believe!” shouted Tom, hauling in the rope.
“Why, Elmore, my dear fellow, is it you?” exclaimed Johnny Nott, taking the hand of the lad, who, with True Blue, had been dragged aft and placed in as safe a spot as the deck afforded. “We thought you were a Frenchman.”
“I scarcely know who I am. I know that I have to thank Freeborn for my preservation,” answered the young baronet.
He took True Blue’s hand.
“I do thank you heartily, Freeborn,” he said with much emotion.
The excitement of the first minutes of his wonderful preservation over, young Elmore felt the effects of the exposure to which he had been subjected so long, and sank almost helpless on the deck.
“He wants food,” said Tom. “I wish that we had some.” True Blue instantly volunteered to try and go and get it; but of this the rest would not hear.
Marline said he would go; but he was wanted to look after the rest, and take care of poor Pringle, who was utterly unable to help himself. Neither the Frenchman nor the black volunteered to go. The truth was, they dared not face the danger.
“I’ll go if I may!” exclaimed Tim Fid. “If I am not strong, I’m little, and a shrimp can swim where a big fish would be knocked to pieces.”
“Stay, though,” said True Blue. “Here, make fast the rope round you. If you are washed away, we can haul you in by it. It served me a good turn, it will now serve you one.”
“A good thought,” said Tim, fastening the rope round his waist, and away he went. He worked his way forward, as, True Blue had done; but just as he was in the middle of the waist, a sea swept the deck, and would have carried him off had it not been for the rope round him.
He was hauled back not a little bruised. Still he insisted on making another attempt. Having kicked off his shoes, away he went. The deck was clearer than usual of water. He ran and leaped along, and before another sea came had reached the fore-hatch. His first care was to make the rope fast to the windlass. Then he slipped off the hatch and descended. He soon again appeared, and succeeded in reaching the after part of the vessel with a good supply of food and a can.
“There,” he said, “that’s full of honest grog; it will do all hands good. But, I say, we must try and get the poor Frenchman up out of his bunk. He’ll be drowned in it if we don’t in a short time.”
It was agreed that the Frenchman and the black ought to perform the duty; but it was not till they had taken several pulls at the grog can that they seemed to understand what was required of them. Even then Mr Nott had to show a pistol, and hint that they should not remain where they were if they did not go and help the wounded man.
The rope which Fid secured made the task comparatively, easy. Led by the little fellow himself, at last they set off. When they got below, they found so much water that the poor fellow was very nearly washed out of his berth. They managed, however, to get him on deck. To carry him aft, however, was the most difficult part of their task. As it was, the Frenchman, in his anxiety to take care of himself, let go his hold of his wounded countryman; and had it not been for Fid and the black, he would have been washed overboard.
At length they reached the stern in safety. The account Fid gave, however, of the quantity of water below, was truly appalling. They could not hope that the brig could swim many hours longer, and should she go down, they had nothing on which to float; the boats were gone, not a spar remained. There were the hatches, certainly; but there would scarcely be time to construct a raft out of them.
Mr Nott had, during this time, been attending to his messmate. It was some time before young Elmore again revived.
Nott was curious to know how his messmate had come to be on board the schooner which had chased them.
“I will tell you in a few words,” said Elmore. “We had not parted company with the frigate many hours before a strange sail hove in sight. As I knew that we could gain but little by fighting should the stranger prove an enemy, we did our best to run away. The prize, however, sailed badly, and the stranger, which turned out to be a large schooner, sailed remarkably well. We had a couple of guns; so we fired away with them as long as we could till she ranged up alongside, when a number of men leaped on our decks and we were obliged to give in. I was carried on board the schooner; but the rest of the men were left on board the brig to work her, so that I hope that their lives may have been preserved. She was a privateer out of Saint Malo. Your determined attempt to escape excited their anger to the highest degree; and at the very moment that the vessel was struck by lightning, from the effects of which she foundered, they were swearing vengeance against you, wherever you might be. Their terrific shrieks and cries, as one after the other they were overwhelmed by the waves, made my heart sink within me. Still I determined not to yield as long as my strength endured, and I struck out for dear life. I soon found myself close to a shattered spar, to which was attached a quantity of rigging. I climbed up and lashed myself securely to it. Thus I passed the night. I more than once thought I saw the dismantled brig; and you may fancy my joy when I caught sight of her at dawn. Still I scarcely expected that anybody on board would be able to render me assistance; and when I saw that all her boats were gone, I almost gave up hope. I have not thanked Freeborn as I wish; but I have those at home who will thank him still more, if we are allowed to reach dry land, and I am sure our Captain will thank him too.”
While the lads had been talking, the appearance of the sky gave evident signs that the gale was breaking. Still the sea ran very high, and the waterlogged wreck laboured in a way which made it doubtful whether each plunge she made would not prove her last. She sunk lower and lower, and it was very evident that in a short time no part of her deck would be tenable. Anxiously, therefore, all eyes were looking out for a sail. Each time that the brig rose to the top of a sea, they all looked out on every side, in the hope of catching a glimpse of some approaching vessel; and blank was the feeling when she again sunk down into the deep trough and they knew that no help was near.
Suddenly True Blue shouted out, “A sail! a sail!—she is standing towards us!” He had seen her before, but was uncertain which way she was steering, and he had not forgotten a caution given to him by Paul—never to raise hopes when there is a likelihood of their being disappointed.
The sea had for some time been decreasing; but there was still so much that a boat would run considerable risk in boarding the wreck. It was soon proved that True Blue was right. The stranger was steering towards them. On she came. She was a brig, and showed English colours.
A cheer rose from the deck of the waterlogged vessel. The brig came down in gallant style; but she gave evident signs that she also had been battling with the gale. Her bulwarks were shattered, and not a boat was to be seen on board. Her flag showed her to be a packet. A fine-looking man stood in the main-rigging.
The midshipmen shouted, “We are going down, we fear. Can you render assistance?”
“Ay, ay—that I will!” answered the master of the packet. “I will run alongside you. Stand by to leap on board!”
The least experienced of the party saw the great risk the packet was running by this proceeding; for a send of the sea might easily have driven the wreck against her and stove in her upper works. This consideration did not deter the gallant sailor from his act of mercy. He made a signal as he approached, that he would pass the wreck on the larboard quarter. The Frenchman and the black were told that they must help their wounded shipmate. Tom and True Blue begged that they might take charge of Paul, while the rest were to leap on board the instant the vessels’ sides touched. The midshipmen and the two boys wanted to stay and help Paul, but he would not hear of this.
“No, no,” he answered; “if we talk about it, no one will be saved; and if I am left on board, I shall be no worse off than we all have been till now.”
The packet tacked. Now she stood down towards the wreck. The sides of the two vessels touched. The midshipmen and two boys leaped on board. So did the Frenchman and the black; they made a pretence of helping their comrade, it seemed. They placed him on the bulwarks of the wreck, and then, when safe themselves, they were about to regain their hold of him; but the poor wretch lost his balance, and with a cry of horror fell between the two vessels. The two men looked over the side with stupid dismay, abusing each other; but their unfortunate comrade had sunk for ever from their sight.
Meanwhile Tom and True Blue had made an attempt to lift Paul on board the packet. Had her crew known his condition, they probably would have been ready to render assistance; as it was, his two friends, fearful of letting him slip between the two vessels, lost the moment as the brig glided by, and all three were left on the sinking wreck.
“Why have you done this?” said Paul when he saw that the packet had shot ahead. “You should have left me, boys.”
“Left you, Paul!” exclaimed True Blue with an emotion he rarely exhibited. “How can you say that? Please Heaven, we’ll save you yet.”
There was no necessity for hailing the packet. They knew well that the two midshipmen would make every effort in their power to render them assistance. Once more the brig tacked and stood towards them; but the position of the wreck had changed, and it was impossible to run alongside.
Again and again the gallant Captain of the packet tried the manoeuvre without success. At last, passing close to them, he shouted, “Lads, I will heave you ropes; you must make yourselves fast to them and jump overboard: it’s your only chance.”
“Tom, you must do it!” said True Blue, turning to Marline. “It would kill Paul; I’ll stay by him. We shall be taken off when the weather moderates; and if not, I’m ready to go down with him.”
Paul heard this. “True Blue, I’m your guardian, and you must obey me!” he said almost sternly. “The ducking won’t hurt me more than others. Maybe it may do me good. So, I say, make the rope fast round me, and help me overboard when you two go, and I shall not be the worse for it.”
Thus commanded, True Blue could no longer refuse obedience. Down came the packet towards them. The ropes were hove on board.
“Tom, you can’t swim—go by yourself. I’ll stay by Paul!” exclaimed True Blue as he was securing the rope. “Help me to launch him first. Away, now!”
Paul was lowered into the water, True Blue keeping tight hold of the rope just at his waist with his left hand, while he struck out with his right. Thus the two together were drawn through the foaming sea towards the packet. Arrived at the vessel’s side, True Blue was of the greatest service to Paul in protecting him from the blows he would otherwise have received by the sea driving him against it.
Right hearty was the welcome they received from all hands, especially from the gallant commander, Captain Jones.
Scarcely had the packet got a hundred fathoms from the brig when she was seen to make a plunge forward. The two midshipmen were watching her, expecting to see her rise again. They rubbed their eyes. Another sea rolled over the spot where she had been, but no sign of her was there.