Chapter Ten.
Ashore—Invalided.
I have a hazy recollection of suddenly finding myself on deck, still in my hammock; and then, a few minutes later, of being in a boat. Finally, when I next came to myself I discovered that I was no longer in my hammock, but in a bed—a delightful spacious comfortable bed in which there was room for one to stretch oneself, change from one side to the other, and otherwise obtain a little temporary relief when lying long in one posture had become wearisome. Then, instead of being enveloped in stiflingly hot blankets, I lay upon one fragrant, cool, snow-white sheet, with another over me, the bed enclosed by mosquito-netting, and a deliciously cool breeze streaming into the long ward through several wide-open, lofty windows, one of which, immediately opposite the foot of my bed, afforded me an excellent view of a considerable portion of Port Royal harbour, with the Apostles’ Battery, crouching at the foot of the Salt Pond Hills, almost immediately opposite, on the other side of the water. One of the hospital orderlies, who was on duty in the ward, came to the side of my bed at once upon finding that I was awake, and gave me a long, satisfying draught of lemonade, cool and exquisitely refreshing, after which I think he must have summoned the doctor to me, for a few minutes later that individual came lightly to the side of my bed, thrust his hand beneath the sheet and felt my pulse.
I afterward learned that this was Dr Loder, chief of the medical staff in the Port Royal Naval Hospital. And oh! what a difference there was between him and Wilson, the Europa’s surgeon. The latter was bluff, hearty, and slightly inclined to be boisterous in manner; while Dr Loder’s every word and every movement, nay his whole appearance, suggested peace, quietness, and perfect restfulness, as well as—by some subtlety of manner—a vague but none the less distinct impression that things were going well with one. He was a tall and rather thin man, with dark-brown hair, beard, and moustache; he was bald on the top of his head, and wore gold-rimmed spectacles through which his fine dark eyes beamed down upon his patients with an expression of sympathy that was in itself as good as a tonic. He asked me a few questions in a quiet, almost caressing tone of voice, gave the orderly who had me in charge certain instructions, and then, patting me gently upon the shoulder, assured me that I should soon be all right again, in a tone of voice that, quiet as it was, somehow seemed to carry absolute conviction with it.
As a matter of fact I really did begin to mend practically from that moment—so rapidly indeed that on the twenty-third day after my admission the wound in my head had so far healed that the bandages were discarded—and three weeks later I was discharged into the guardship cured, the Europa having gone to sea again some time before.
But the guardship was no place for me, weak and shaken as I then was by my long and serious spell of illness; and although the Admiral might well, in the press of daily affairs, have been excused had he forgotten so unimportant a detail as the state of my health, he did not; on the contrary, he invited me to spend a week at the Pen, to recuperate, during which his wife, Lady Agnes, was a second mother to me and a hospital nurse combined. From that moment there was no lack of invitations for me to go into the country and regain my strength, my former acquaintances one and all hunting me up and reminding me of several almost forgotten promises that I would visit them.
As the frigate was not expected to return to Port Royal for at least two months, and as, although discharged from the hospital, I was as yet by no means fit for duty, I had not the slightest difficulty in obtaining a month’s leave, which I spent most enjoyably with friends whose estates were situated in Saint Thomas-in-the-East and on the northern slopes of the Blue Mountain Range. It is no part of my purpose to enter into a detailed description of life on a Jamaican sugar plantation, nor will I attempt to convey to the reader any definite idea of the Jamaicans’ hospitality. Let it suffice to say that I never spent a happier month anywhere, and that the planters, with all their jollity, light-heartedness, and love of fun, were the most genial, kindly, hospitable folk I ever met with, each of them vieing with all the rest in an amicable contest who should show me the most kindness and attention. I went among them an almost total stranger; when I left, I felt as though I were parting with as many brothers and sisters.
Upon reporting myself to the Admiral, at his office, he received me very kindly, asked whether I felt fit to return to duty—to which I replied with a most emphatic Yes—informed me that the Europa was not expected for another month at least; then invited me to dine with him that evening at the Pen, and spend the night there.
His table was, as usual, well filled with guests, but they were all civilians, excepting some three or four military officers over from Up Park Camp. The navy was entirely unrepresented, save by myself, the reason being, as I soon learned, that the French, Dutch, and Spanish were all exceedingly active in and about the Caribbean, and there were not enough of our own ships to cope with them; consequently every available craft of any sort flying the British pennant had been sent to sea, and was being kept there.
At length, when all the guests had left the Pen, and Lady Agnes had retired for the night, Sir Peter invited me to accompany him to the broad gallery, covered by a veranda, which stretched right athwart the front of the house, from end to end, and directed one of his negro servants to carry out to it a small table, a box of cigars, a jug of sangaree, and two wicker basket-chairs wherein we seated ourselves preparatory, as I surmised, to a more or less confidential chat of some sort, though what, of such a nature, so important a personage as the Port Admiral could possibly have to say to an insignificant mid like myself, I could not divine.
Sir Peter, however, was not the sort of man to beat about the bush; if he had anything to say he generally said it without any circumlocution, and he did so now. Selecting with care a cigar for himself, lighting it, and pouring out a couple of tumblers of sangaree, he settled himself in his chair, and began by remarking:
“Well, young gentleman, so you have quite recovered from the effects of your wound, eh?—and feel fit and ready for duty once more?”
“Yes, to both questions, Sir Peter,” I answered. “But I think I understood you to say that the Europa is not expected to return to Port Royal for at least another month—”
“So I did,” interrupted the Admiral; “and the question is, What are you going to do with yourself meanwhile? This is no time for an officer to idle about ashore, you know.”
“No, sir,” I responded, “it certainly is not, and I am exceedingly glad that you have broached the subject, for it affords me an early opportunity to do what I have had it in my mind to do, namely, to ask you whether you cannot find me some better employment than kicking my heels aboard the guardship until the frigate returns.”
“Ah!” commented Sir Peter, “so that was what you had in your mind, was it? Have you served your time yet?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, “with nearly three months to spare.”
“Good!” remarked my companion. “But of course you have not passed yet? You have not had an opportunity. Have you your log-books with you?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “When I was sent ashore to the hospital, Captain Vavassour was good enough to send with me all my belongings.”
“Where are they—the log-books, I mean—now?” demanded Sir Peter.
“They are aboard the guardship, with the rest of my things,” I answered.
“Very well,” returned my companion. “You had better go down to Port Royal with me in the morning, and bring your log-books ashore for me to look at. I have a scheme in my head for employing you, but I am not at all sure whether you are fit to undertake a duty of so exceedingly responsible a character as that which I have in my mind; although I don’t hesitate to tell you, youngster, that Captain Vavassour gave you a most excellent character in every respect. What sort of a navigator are you? I suppose, like most other young gentlemen, you can fudge a day’s work well enough to pass muster, eh?”
I laughed. “I am afraid, sir,” I replied, “that too many of us would rather fudge than take the trouble to do our day’s work properly. But I got out of that lazy trick some time ago; and now I will not turn my back upon any lad of my own age, whether midshipman, or master’s-mate, where navigation is concerned.”
“Ah!” he remarked, “that sounds all right. Tell me, what can you do in navigation problems?”
“I can do Plane, Traverse, Middle-Latitude, and Mercator’s Sailing,” I answered. “I can also do a Day’s Work; I can use my quadrant with accuracy; can find the Latitude by a meridian altitude of the sun, moon, or a star; can find the error and rate of the chronometer, and also the longitude by it; can determine the variation of the compass; can find the longitude by a ‘lunar’; can do the Pole Star problem; and—well, I think that is about all, sir, thus far.”
“And a very creditable ‘all,’ too,” answered the Admiral, evidently well pleased. “And what about your seamanship?” he continued.
“I believe I am pretty good at that too, sir,” I said. “I was at Portsmouth, in the dockyard, every day during the fitting-out of the frigate, and watched the whole process of rigging her. When I first saw her she had nothing standing but her three lower-masts.”
“Well,” remarked Sir Peter, “you ought to have picked up a little knowledge relative to the spars and rigging of a ship during that time. But did you? That is the question. Come, I’ll put you through your facings a bit, if you are not too sleepy. Supposing that it became necessary for you to get the maintop over the masthead, how would you go to work?”
I considered a moment, recalled the operation as I had witnessed it, and then proceeded to describe what I had seen.
“Yes; very good,” commented my companion. “Now, get your lower rigging into place, and set it up.”
I described how I would do that; and also answered several other questions, apparently to his satisfaction.
“Very well,” he said, “that’s all rigger’s work; exceedingly important to know, of course, but still not exactly seamanship. Now, young gentleman, suppose yourself to be in command of a fine frigate—as I hope you will be some day, please God. You are turning to windward in a fresh breeze, under all plain sail, and it becomes necessary to tack. Describe the various evolutions.”
I did so; and then the old gentleman gradually took me, still aboard my suppositious frigate, through a rapidly freshening breeze into a regular hurricane, until I had got the ship hove-to under bare poles, with a tarpaulin lashed in the weather mizen rigging, and then he shook hands with me and dismissed me to my room.
The next morning, immediately after first breakfast, we got under way in the Admiral’s ketureen—a sort of gig with a roof to it—and drove down to the wharf at Kingston, where the barge, a fine boat, was waiting for us. The sea-breeze had set in and was piping up merrily, and in about three-quarters of an hour we were alongside the dockyard wall at Port Royal. Here the Admiral left me, with instructions to go off aboard the guardship at once, and bring my log-books ashore for his inspection. This I did, but it was nearly noon before Sir Peter was ready to attend to me, and even then it was after all but a cursory glance that he bestowed upon my books. But, cursory though it was, what he saw appeared to satisfy him, for he was good enough to express his approval as he closed the books and pushed them across the table to me.
“Very good, very good indeed,” he remarked; “far more creditable than mine were when I was your age, I am afraid. I consider you a most promising young officer, and am going to take you under my wing, because I believe you will do me credit. Nay, boy, I want no thanks,”—as I broke in somewhat incoherently in an attempt to express my gratitude—“at least, not in the form of words,” he continued; “words are often spoken under the influence of a strong momentary impulse, and forgotten almost immediately afterward. But if you should desire to show that you are grateful to me for what I intend to do for you, you cannot exhibit it more acceptably than by justifying the very great trust that I am about to repose in you. And I believe you will, for, young as you are, you have proved yourself to be made of the right stuff; you have made good use of your time, and have as much knowledge in that curly pate of yours as many officers of twice your length of service possess. Now, I am not telling you this because I want to make you conceited—far from it; it is simply because I want you to understand that I have formed a very high opinion of you, and that I expect you to live up to it. D’ye understand that, youngster?”
“Quite clearly, Sir Peter,” I answered. “It is exceedingly kind, and most encouraging on your part that you have spoken so frankly as you have, and I can assure you that I am not in the least likely to entertain an unduly high opinion of myself in consequence of it. On the contrary, I am afraid that you have formed altogether too favourable an opinion of me and my qualities; but I shall remember that opinion, and will do my utmost to justify it.”
“Very well,” he answered; “no man can say more than that, and if you fulfil your promise I shall be perfectly satisfied. And now, as to the work upon which I propose to employ you. You must know that there is more work—a good deal more work—to be done on this station than there are ships to do it; consequently, although every ship at my disposal is now at sea, I am continually receiving complaints that the commerce in West Indian waters is inadequately protected. I have applied for additional ships, but have been told that there are none to spare, and that I must do the best I can with what I have. The fact is that the Caribbean and its approaches are not only swarming with privateers, but I have too much reason to believe that there is a strong gang of out-and-out pirates at work as well. I was in hopes that the capture of that pirate brigantine by the Europa would put an end to all that kind of work, but it has not; indeed, it has scarcely made any appreciable impression upon the number of outrages of a distinctly piratical character that are being constantly reported to me. I am, of course, not now alluding to vessels that have gone temporarily missing, for they may in most cases be traced to the operations of the enemy; but I refer to those which vanish utterly, leaving no trace of any kind behind them to hint at their fate; and also to those other craft which are fallen in with, derelict, from time to time, plundered, and bearing indications that an attempt has been made to destroy them, either by scuttling them, or setting them on fire. Privateers don’t do that sort of thing, you know. If they capture a ship they generally put a prize-crew aboard her and send her into the nearest port belonging to them. Pirates, however, endeavour to escape identification by destroying all traces of their handiwork and butchering the unfortunate crews of the vessels.
“A case of this kind came to light only last week. The Kingston Trader of Bristol, with a very valuable cargo and five thousand pounds in specie, has been overdue about a month, and her consignees have been worrying me accordingly. Last Friday a small turtling schooner arrived from the Windward Passages, reporting that they had seen a wreck ashore near Tête de Chien on the island of Tortuga, off the north-west coast of Saint Domingo. They launched their pirogue, and succeeded in getting close enough to the wreck to identify her as the missing Kingston Trader, and also to ascertain that she had been on fire, most of her upper works having been consumed. That is the third case of an almost identical kind that has occurred within the last two months, and I am convinced that it is the work of pirates.
“Now, young gentleman, I am going to give you the job of finding those pirates and bringing them to book. It is work for a man, I know, but I have not a man to spare; and I am convinced, from the way in which you answered my questions last night, and from the character which Captain Vavassour has given you, not only that you are a very capable young officer, but also that you have your full share of sound common sense and self-reliance—that you are, in fact, quite as likely to give a good account of yourself over this business as would many a much older man.
“Therefore, since you are certain to pass with flying colours as soon as an opportunity to present yourself for examination offers itself, I intend to give you an acting order as lieutenant, to place you in command of a small schooner with a good strong crew, and to send you off upon a roving commission to do your best to put down these piratical outrages that are so frequently occurring under our very noses. Now, what d’ye think of my scheme, youngster? Is the job too big for you to tackle?”
“No, sir,” I answered; “certainly not too big. The only thing I fear is that I may not be sufficiently experienced to execute so responsible a duty as efficiently as it ought to be executed. But I will do my very utmost, Sir Peter, I can promise you that; and if I can only have with me one or two thoroughly steady, reliable men to help me with an occasional word of advice, I believe we shall be able to give a very good account of ourselves.”
“Yes,” returned Sir Peter, “I believe so too, otherwise I would not dream of sending you. As to experience, well, there is only one way of gaining it, and that is by actually doing a thing; it is rather a rough school, perhaps, but it is the only one in which you can thoroughly learn your lesson, and I am glad to see that you have no idea of shirking it.
“And now, as to this seventy-four of yours. She is a fore-and-aft schooner of one hundred and ten tons, said to have been built at Baltimore. She is something of a freak, her designer having apparently turned his lines end for end and put his bows where his stern should be, and vice versa. Nevertheless, his theory seems to have been sound, for I’m told that she is a perfect witch for speed, especially in light weather, and speed is one of the qualities which you must have. She was caught smuggling, and was condemned to be sawn in two; but I thought we might perhaps be able to find a better use for her than that, so I have postponed the operation. She is called the Wasp, and if you have as much enterprise as I give you credit for, you ought to make her sting to some purpose. You will find her in Hulk Hole, and— Stop a minute.” He rang a bell and a messenger entered.
“Jones,” said Sir Peter, “have you any idea where the master-attendant is?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the man, “he was outside on the wharf not half a minute ago.”
“Then, please, see if you can find him,” said the Admiral, “and request him to come here to me. Carline is a very decent fellow,” he continued, as soon as the messenger had vanished. “I’ll get him to take you aboard and show you the craft—he has the keys of the companion and fore-scuttle, I believe—and you and he can talk matters over together and decide what she will need to fit her for service. Ah! here is Carline. Good morning, Mr Carline. This is Mr Delamere, whom I am going to send out in charge of the Wasp, to see what he can do toward putting a stop to these repeated piracies. I want you to take him aboard and let him have a thorough good look at the schooner; after which you and he can draw up a list of what is needed to render her fit for the work which she will have to do. And now, good morning, Mr Delamere. Come up to the Pen to dinner to-night; then you can report to me what you think the craft requires.”
“So the Admiral’s going to fit out that smugglin’ schooner and send you to sea in her, eh?” remarked the master-attendant as soon as we got outside.
I replied that I quite understood that to be Sir Peter’s intention.
“Oh, well,” he observed, “I don’t know how you’ll get on with her; she’s a queer one to look at, and I expect she’ll want some learnin’ before you’ll be able to handle her properly. Have you had any experience in a fore-and-after?”
“Only in boats,” I replied. “The barge of my old ship, the Colossus, was rigged as a fore-and-aft schooner, and I’ve sailed her many’s the time; and I suppose all fore-and-afters are handled in pretty much the same way. The matter of mere size won’t make very much difference, I imagine.”
“Well, I expect you’ll find the Wasp a bit different,” observed my companion; “she’s such a queer model, you see—everything about her is exactly the opposite of what we think it should be. She has tremendous beam, and no draught of water worth speakin’ of; an outrageously long tapering bow, and a short, squat stern— But there, you’ll see her presently. But there’s no doubt about it, she can sail—there’s nothing in this harbour that can look at her; and as for working, why, I’ve been told that she has been known to be round and full on the other tack twenty seconds after puttin’ the helm down!”
“Well, that is good news at all events,” I remarked. “I like a nice, smart-working ship— Why, Henderson, where in the world did you spring from? and how is it that you are not away in the frigate?” I exclaimed, as we encountered a figure that was perfectly familiar to me.
“For the same reason as yourself, Mr Delamere,” answered the man, touching his hat. “I was on my beam-ends in the hospital when she went to sea—bowled over in the scrimmage wi’ that brigantine, same as you was.”
“And where are you, and what doing now?” I demanded.
“Why, sir, I’m aboard the guardship, along wi’ another or two of our chaps as was discharged from the hospital about the same time as I was,” answered the man—formerly one of the Europa’s quartermasters.
“Oh, indeed,” I replied, very much surprised, for I had not known that there were others as well as myself put ashore from the frigate; “and are you all ready for duty again?” I asked.
“Ay, that we are, sir,” answered Henderson, “and shall be glad enough to get to sea and have a mouthful of fresh air once more. This bein’ in harbour is all very well for a change, but a man soon gets enough of it; and, a’ter all, it ain’t half so comfortable as bein’ at sea.”
“Then in that case,” said I, seeing my way to getting one good hand, at least, “perhaps you may be willing to volunteer for a little schooner that the Admiral is going to give me to go pirate-hunting in?”
“Ay, that indeed I will, Mr Delamere, and glad of the chance,” answered Henderson heartily; “and perhaps, sir,” he added, “I could help you to two or three more good men, if so be as you happen to want ’em.”
“Well, I think it more than likely that I shall,” said I, “so just keep your eyes open in that direction. I shall no doubt see you again to-morrow or next day, when we can have a further chat.”
Henderson touched his hat and turned away, and the master-attendant and I made our way along the wharf to the landing-steps. Here he directed four men to jump down into his gig and spread the cushions in the stern-sheets, while he went into his office to procure the keys which were to afford us access to the interior of my “seventy-four,” as the Admiral had jestingly called her. Then, descending the steps and taking our places in the gig, Carline seized the yoke-lines, gave the word to shove off, and away we went, across the upper end of the harbour and through the boat channel, past Gallows Point, whereon stood the stout posts and beam from which the five ringleaders of the pirates taken aboard the brigantine had been launched into eternity.