Chapter Seven.
Westward Ho!
When, through the captain of the Haarlem, as interpreter, I explained to the Dutch crew that it was my intention to call upon them to continue to work the ship, they seemed disposed at the outset to refuse; but I soon brought them to a more reasonable frame of mind by giving them the choice of remaining in their own forecastle and enjoying the liberty of the Haarlem’s deck, on the one hand, and being transferred to the frigate and confined below, on the other, when it took them but a few minutes to make up their minds that the first alternative was by far the more desirable of the two.
Having arrived at this understanding I filled away, and, with the cutter in tow, stood after the Europa, which was now in full pursuit of the second Indiaman—the Schelde, of 950 tons, also from Batavia, and with an even more valuable cargo than that carried by the Haarlem, as I now learned from the chief mate of the latter. But oh, it was weary work to attempt to turn to windward in a light breeze in the deep, bluff-bowed, squat-sterned, Dutch-built Haarlem, after my experience of the smart, lively, swift-sailing British frigate; it was, therefore, with a feeling of the utmost satisfaction that shortly before the end of the second dog-watch I heard the Europa once more booming out her summons to surrender, and saw the mainyard of the Schelde swing slowly aback in response. For now, the business of taking possession of this third prize once over, we could at least bear up and crowd sail for home, with a free wind to help us over the ground; for by this time Mr Percival had so far made good the damage sustained by the Gelderland that he once more had the vessel under command, and was working out toward us on the port tack. And from what I could see of the behaviour of the ship it appeared to me that, even in the guise of a brig, she would be quite able to hold her own with the slow-moving Indiamen.
The Schelde and the frigate having hove-to, we were able to close with them in the course of about an hour, when I sent away Jack Millet and two men in the cutter with my report to Captain Vavassour, giving him the name, tonnage, and nature of the cargo of the Haarlem, together with such other particulars as I thought he would like to know, and also acquainting him with the fact that the Dutch crew had consented to work the ship. Meanwhile the Europa had taken in all her light sails and clewed up her courses, with the evident intention of keeping close company with her prizes.
As soon as the Schelde had been taken possession of, and a prize-crew put on board her, Captain Vavassour sent away his gig to me, in charge of young Millet, with written instructions that I was to remain in charge of the Haarlem, retaining Jack to help me, and to crowd all sail for Plymouth, taking care to keep in close touch with the rest of the squadron. Jack—good boy—upon receiving his instructions to join me, had had the sense and forethought not only to bring along his own dunnage but mine also; and as soon as we had hoisted in the two chests I sent back the gig, and we proceeded to make ourselves comfortable by taking possession of two staterooms in the cuddy that by good fortune happened to be vacant.
It was close upon four bells in the first watch when at length, all arrangements being completed, the Europa hoisted the night signal for us to make sail, upon which, the wind having meanwhile freshened up again a trifle, we wore round and, crowding all sail upon the two Indiamen, shaped a course for Ushant. I remained on deck until I had seen the topgallant, topmast, and lower studdingsails set aboard my command, and then, having had a busy and very tiring day, turned over the charge of the deck to Bateman, a steady old quartermaster who had been spared to me by Mr Howard, laying strict injunctions upon him to keep a very sharp eye upon the Dutch crew, and then turned-in. Five days later, at daylight, we made the land, and came safely to anchor in Plymouth Sound, just as the breakfast-bell was being rung on board the two Indiamen.
The appearance of the Europa in the Sound, accompanied by three prizes, one of which was a more powerful vessel than herself, created great excitement ashore, and we were speedily surrounded by a whole flotilla of boats, the occupants of which clamorously besought permission to come on board and dispose of, either by sale or barter, the varied assortment of goods and commodities that they had brought off; but the strictest orders had been given that no strangers were on any account to be allowed on board, and that no boats or other craft were to be permitted to come alongside, or even approach the prizes; we were, therefore, obliged to possess our souls in patience, and see fresh meat, soft tack, and many other dainties that we would gladly have purchased, taken back to the shore again. Two days later, however, the prizes were taken into the Hamoase and their crews landed, after which the prize-crews returned to the Europa, where the joyous news was communicated to us that we were to proceed at once to Portsmouth to refit. We weighed forthwith and stood up channel with a slashing westerly breeze, arriving at Portsmouth on the following day, when all hands were turned over to the guardship, and the frigate was taken into dock.
I obtained leave, without the slightest difficulty, and spent a very happy month with my father, at the expiration of which I was notified that the Europa was once more ready for sea, and was requested to join forthwith.
On this occasion I left home and journeyed down to Portsmouth alone, my father happening at the time to be suffering from an attack of gout which, while not sufficiently serious to be alarming, was nevertheless painful enough to preclude travelling. Upon arriving at my destination I called at the George Hotel, where Captain Vavassour usually put up, with the intention of reporting myself to him, but, learning that he was on board the frigate, I at once proceeded to the harbour and, engaging a wherry, transported myself and my belongings to Spithead, where the Europa lay at anchor. I was just in time to catch the Captain and report myself before he left the ship for the night, and then I descended to the midshipmen’s berth, where I was joyously welcomed by my former shipmates.
Upon inquiring for the latest news, it appeared that certain changes had occurred in the personnel of the ship since we had last all met together. For instance, Mr Howard had most deservedly obtained his promotion and been given a command, while Mr Galway now reigned in his stead aboard the Europa. As second and third lieutenants we had two new men, namely, Mr William Gadsby and Mr Edward Sutcliffe, both of whom seemed to have made a fairly favourable impression, on the whole, although—as was, perhaps, only natural—the occupants of the midshipmen’s berth seemed just a little inclined to regard them askance as newcomers of whom but little was thus far known. But when, an hour or so later, I again went up on deck and, through Mr Galway, made the acquaintance of the new men, I speedily came to the conclusion that though our new second luff might possibly turn out to be rather a “taut hand,” and perhaps a little inclined to be intolerant of the practical joking to which midshipmen are so prone, yet, on the whole, we should not have much cause to regret the arrival of either himself or Mr Sutcliffe among us, for both of them impressed me as being exceedingly well-bred men. Whether or not they would turn out to be capable seamen, however, was a matter which only time and more intimate association would prove.
As I have already intimated, the frigate had been reported as ready for sea when I received orders to join her; and so she was, save in one most important particular, namely, that she was short-handed. For although, upon our arrival home, all hands had been turned over to the guardship and placed upon her books while our own ship was in the hands of the dockyard people, the admiral had drawn upon them pretty freely, in order to enable other ships to complete their complement and go to sea; so that when the time came for the Europa to receive back her crew, it was found that she was nearly fifty men short of her full number. This was all the more unfortunate, in that we had very little time left us in which to make up the deficiency; for we were to sail in three days’ time for Plymouth, there to form part of the escort of a large fleet of merchantmen and transports bound to the West Indies under convoy. But now it was that our new second and third lieutenants showed their mettle, for on the very night of my arrival on board they organised two formidable pressgangs, which they led ashore, one party landing at Portsmouth and the other at Gosport; and between them they managed to make a clean sweep of pretty nearly all the crimps’ houses within a radius of four miles of the harbour, returning to the ship shortly before daylight the next morning considerably battered and the worse for wear—for they had been engaged in a series of desperate hand-to-hand fights—but bringing with them sixty-three fine, able-bodied merchant seamen, who had been in close hiding while awaiting a berth. A few of these men had already served on board a man-o’-war, and they did not need very much persuasion to induce them to enter again; when the ball having once been set rolling, as it were, the rest followed suit in little batches of twos and threes until by midday the whole of them had “volunteered,” and we had completed our complement.
At daylight, on the third morning after my arrival on board, Blue Peter was hoisted, the fore-topsail was loosed, and a gun was fired as a signal that we were about to proceed to sea; and from that moment until the anchor was lifted all was bustle and confusion—hoisting in and securing the boats, stowing away stock of all descriptions, and clearing the ship of women—wives and sweethearts of the crew—and traders who were anxious to obtain a settlement of accounts. The Captain’s gig had been sent ashore immediately after breakfast; and about ten o’clock she returned, bringing off Captain Vavassour; the boatswains piped “All hands up anchor!” and half-an-hour later we were bowling away down the Solent before a fine easterly breeze.
We arrived in Plymouth Sound the next morning, and found assembled there about one hundred and twenty sail of merchantmen bound to various ports on the other side of the Atlantic, in the safe convoy of which to their destination we were to take part. We also found my old ship Colossus, the frigate Astarte, of thirty-six guns, and two 14-gun-brigs—the Hebe and the Naiad—at anchor outside the merchant fleet, being the remaining ships of the squadron detailed for convoy duty.
On the day following our arrival at Plymouth the wind shifted and blew hard from the south-west, with almost continuous rain. As these weather conditions prevailed for eight consecutive days, we remained at anchor, awaiting a change of wind, since it was useless to take to sea a fleet of merchantmen, the greater number of which were so deeply laden and such poor sailers that it would have been impossible for them to make any progress against a wind that was blowing dead in their teeth. During this period of inaction some thirty additional sail arrived at the rendezvous, anxious to avail themselves of the protection of convoy; when, therefore, on the ninth day the weather cleared and the wind hauled round from the south-east, the merchant fleet of which we were to take care during their passage across the Atlantic numbered in all exactly one hundred and fifty-four sail.
The change of weather occurred shortly after midnight, with a steadily rising barometer; at daylight, therefore, the commodore fired a gun and hoisted the signal to weigh, and by eight o’clock the leading ships in the fleet were under way and beating out to sea, led by the Colossus, their departure being hastened by much firing of guns and continuous displays of signal flags. The two gun-brigs went out with the first of the fleet, their duty being to marshal the merchantmen into something like order when they got outside; but the Astarte and ourselves remained at anchor to quicken up the movements of the laggards and expedite matters generally; and a hard time we had of it, for so short-handed were some of the vessels that we were obliged to send working-parties on board them to assist in making sail and breaking their anchors out of the ground. But by noon the last of them were fairly under way, and as soon as they had passed outside of us we too weighed and stood out after them, flitting hither and thither, hailing first this ship and then that, with imperative orders for them to crowd sail. But oh, what weary, heart-breaking work was this business of whipping-in; for so sluggish were some of the craft that it seemed as though they would never be able to make their way out to the main fleet, which was by this time hove-to in the offing. However, by eight bells in the afternoon watch we had contrived to hustle the last one out to windward of the Eddystone, when the commodore made the signal to fill away; and off we all went, with the wind a couple of points free, the weather braces checked, and the slower coaches among the merchantmen with all their larboard studdingsails set. Then came a signal from the commodore to regulate rate of sailing by that of the slowest craft in the fleet and to keep as close together as prudence would permit; and, finally, a signal to the men-of-war to take the stations assigned to them and to keep a sharp lookout for marauders. This last signal was made purely as a matter of form and duty, and not because it was actually necessary; for although none of us had sighted any suspicious-looking craft on our way round to Plymouth, we felt pretty certain that news of the assembling of the convoy, and of its probable sailing date, would find its way across the Channel, and that, sooner or later, we should discover that a few enterprising privateers were hovering upon its skirts, watching for a favourable opportunity to cut in and secure a prize or two.
The south-easterly wind held long enough to enable us and our charges to get well clear of the Channel and to the southward of Ushant before it changed, and then it gradually veered round until it came out strong from the north-west, when away we all went for Madeira, the slowest ships carrying every rag of canvas that they could stagger under, while the faster craft were unwillingly compelled to shorten down in order that all might keep together, while as for ourselves and the Astarte, the utmost that we could show, without running ahead of our station, was double-reefed topsails.
We sighted and passed Madeira on the eighth day out from Plymouth, and two days later, to our great joy, picked up the “Trades,” blowing fresh; and thus far we had not sighted a single suspicious sail. Most of us were of opinion that, having been permitted to come thus far without interference, we were now safe, and that with a strong trade-wind wafting along even the slowest coaches among us, at a pace of from six to seven knots an hour, our troubles were all over. But the more knowing ones shook their heads, smiled compassionately at our ignorance, and said, “Wait a bit!”
And they were right. For at daylight on a certain lovely morning, when we were, by our reckoning, some three hundred and twenty miles from the island of Barbadoes, upon going up to the main-topmast crosstrees to take a look round generally, and count the number of sail in sight, I discovered that at last the wolves had entered our fold and were already playing havoc with it. For, to start with, one of our finest and fastest merchantmen had hauled out from the main body, and under a heavy press of canvas was already hull-down in the south-eastern board, being evidently in possession of a prize-crew, while, in the thickest of the ruck, was a very large brigantine, under exceedingly short canvas, yet keeping pace with the slow-sailing merchantmen, first sheering alongside one and hugging her affectionately for a few minutes, and then turning her attention to another and doing likewise. But this was not all, for on the northern flank of the convoy there was a small full-rigged ship, which I felt certain was a stranger, apparently pursuing the same tactics as the brigantine; while far away to the north were both our man-o’-war brigs cracking on in chase of five craft—whether a portion of our convoy or not, I could not at the moment say—which seemed to be manoeuvring with the deliberate purpose of drawing the brigs away from the convoy and so affording the brigantine and the ship an opportunity to put in a good morning’s work unmolested.
“On deck, there!” I hailed. “There are two strange sail astern which seem to be running alongside and taking possession of a number of our craft; one large ship is heading south-east and already hull-down from the crosstrees here; and the two brigs—the Hebe and the Naiad—are about fifteen miles off, in the northern board, chasing five other craft.”
“Thank you, Mr Delamere,” answered the first lieutenant. “Can you count the number of merchantmen in sight?”
“I’ll try to do so, sir,” I replied; “but I’m afraid it will be a little difficult, for they are all bunching together, astern, as though for mutual protection, in a manner that is very confusing.”
“Still, I shall be glad if you will do your best to get the information,” hailed the first luff; to which I replied, as in duty bound—“Ay, ay, sir; I’ll have a try.”
Therewith I set to work upon my somewhat awkward task, in the middle of which some of the merchantmen began firing their signal guns to attract our attention. The example seemed contagious, for in about five minutes the popping of their 4-pounders was almost continuous, and the smoke became as thick as though a small battle were raging, while ship after ship hoisted the signal for “Enemy in sight!” At length, after being compelled to begin my work all over again two or three times, I managed to complete my count, making of them one hundred and forty-eight. This number I reported to the first lieutenant, down on deck.
“Does that include the six craft which appear to have parted company, Mr Delamere?” hailed Mr Galway.
“No, sir,” I replied; “it is the number which are still sailing in convoy.”
The first lieutenant conferred for a few minutes with the Captain, who had meanwhile been sent for, and had come on deck, and then hailed again, directing me to come down.
Meanwhile a good deal of signalling had been proceeding between the Colossus, ourselves, and the Astarte; and just as I reached the deck the order was given to make sail, the two frigates having been instructed to chase the strangers, and for us, in addition, to pursue and recapture the large ship which had by this time vanished altogether in the south-eastern board.
We at once hauled our wind and, acknowledging the signal from the commodore, crowded sail, standing to the southward upon the port tack. We set everything to our royals, although the moment that the ship was brought upon a wind, and the yards braced sharp up, we became conscious of the fact that the Trades were blowing quite strong enough to justify us, under ordinary circumstances, in keeping our topgallantsails stowed. But this was no time for prudence; valuable property was being stolen under our very noses—ay, and murder being committed, too, for aught that we could tell to the contrary—and the marauders must be caught and punished; we therefore cracked on, pressing the beautiful frigate to the utmost limit of her endurance.
And, oh, what a joyous, exhilarating sensation it was to feel the ship alive once more, as it were, heeling steeply over to the shrill piping of the strong salt breeze, bounding from wave to wave, plunging her sharp stem deep into the heart of each oncoming surge, and cleaving its indigo crest asunder in a perfect storm of sparkling foam above which played a miniature rainbow, after being compelled for weeks to moderate our paces to those of the sluggish merchantmen!
Our shift of helm brought that portion of the convoy, in the midst of which the big brigantine was pursuing her nefarious trade, square upon our weather-beam, but as we were now going off practically at right angles to the course steered by the convoy, and as both they and we were sailing at a good rate, our relative positions very quickly altered; and as the brigantine had not yet seen fit to haul out from among the merchantmen, we were beginning to hope that she was too busily employed to notice our movements, and that, before she did so and took the alarm, we should gain the weather-gage of her. But no, they were not going to be quite so easily caught as all that! It happened, however, that at the precise moment when we hauled out from the main body she had run alongside a large transport, carrying troops out to the West Indies; and the officers on board her, having got timely notice of what was happening, had prepared for her visit by turning up the soldiers, some five hundred in number, serving out ball cartridge to them, and causing them to crouch low behind the bulwarks. Then, just as the brigantine ranged up alongside to board, the soldiers at a blast from the bugle had poured in a fire of musketry that had literally swept her crowded decks and filled them with killed and wounded, causing her to haul off in a tremendous hurry, the soldiers continuing to gall her until she contrived to escape by hauling her wind and interposing some of the other ships between herself and the transport. But, even as it was, when at length she hauled out clear of the convoy, and proceeded to make sail, she was a good three miles to windward of us, though about three points abaft the beam.
Of course we heard faintly the rattling crash of the musketry volleys, and were thus able to make a pretty shrewd guess as to what was happening, but it was not until the brigantine had cleared the convoy, and began to make sail, that we could form any idea of the extent to which she had been punished by the soldiers. For these picarooning craft usually go as heavily manned, in proportion to their tonnage, as a man-of-war, and are generally able to make sail quite as smartly. But now sail was made as slowly aboard her as though she had been a short-handed merchantman, seven hands only—for I counted them through my glass—going aloft to shake out the reefs from her topsail, and to loose her topgallantsail and royal, while two more appeared to be as many as could be spared to lay out and loose her standing and flying-jibs. But when at length she was under all plain sail, like ourselves, we saw that we should have our work cut out to catch her, for she developed a most extraordinary turn of speed, although the strong breeze and heavy sea were all in our favour.
By the time that she had got the reefs out of her immense mainsail, and had set an enormous gaff-topsail above it, we had drawn so far ahead of her as to bring her a couple of points upon our weather quarter, whereupon we tacked, the advantage gained being solely due, I imagined, to the slowness of her crew in making sail. When we were round, and full upon the other tack, she was still quite three miles distant, and bore about a point on our lee-bow; but of course she very soon drew out athwart our hawse, and now everything seemed to depend upon which was the more weatherly craft of the two. Seen from the fore-topmast crosstrees—to which I ascended for the purpose of getting a good look at her—she appeared to be one of those immensely beamy, shallow craft, copied from the slavers; and those vessels, I knew, although they generally sailed like witches, were often anything but weatherly. Yet I had heard of vessels thus modelled for the sake of securing speed, and fitted with a very deep keel to ensure weatherliness, where light draught of water was not a consideration; and it remained to be seen whether the brigantine was a craft of this class.
Now that all her canvas was at length set, the heavy loss of men that she had sustained was no very serious disadvantage to her; for with one good man to steer her, she would sail as well with a dozen hands as with a hundred on deck, and there could be no doubt that she was going very fast through the water. The point now was whether, as we converged toward each other—as we were now doing, the two craft being on opposite tacks—we could persuade her, by means of our bow guns, to give in, and so save us the time that would be consumed in a long stern-chase.
Mr Purvis, the gunner, believed that we could, and, having obtained permission from the Captain to try his hand, soon proved himself right by shooting away the chase’s fore-topgallant-mast, when the loss of topgallantsail, royal, and flying-jib so far reduced her speed that it quickly became evident she must either strike or run the gauntlet of our entire broadside. She wisely chose the former alternative; and twenty minutes later she was hove-to, with her topsail aback, on the Europa’s lee quarter.