Chapter Five.
“Choppee for Changee—A Black Dog for a Blue Monkey.”
By the time that the Aurora’s crew were on deck, crouching behind the bulwarks aft on the port side, armed, and instructed by George as to what he required of them, the strange sail was within a dozen fathoms of the Aurora’s port quarter.
She could now be seen with tolerable distinctness, the outline of the hull and of the lofty canvas showing black as ebony against the dark background of sea and sky; and any doubts which Captain Leicester might have still entertained concerning her, were completely set at rest as he glanced at the cut of her canvas. It was French all over.
Foot by foot the brig—for such she was—crept up to the Aurora, until her bows were in a line with the barque’s stern and not more than twenty feet distant. George stood by the main-rigging, watching her, cutlass in hand, calm and determined, his plans already formed for action in the event of his suspicions proving correct.
In the ordinary course of things the two craft were now quite near enough to each other for any communication, however confidential in its nature, to be made without the possibility of its being overheard; but, though George could see that a figure stood on the brig’s rail by the main-rigging, not a word was uttered.
Keeping his gaze steadfastly fixed upon the brig, Captain Leicester saw that her helm had suddenly been ported, for she was sheering strongly in toward his own vessel.
“Brig ahoy!” he hailed. “What is it you have to say to me? Do not come too close, sir, or you will be into us.”
“Never fear,” answered in perfect English the dark figure on board the brig, “we will not carry away so much as a rope-yarn belonging to you. But I must be on board you before I can venture to give you your instructions.”
“Oh! very well,” said George. “If you intend boarding us, you had better do so by way of our fore-rigging, or you may get a nasty fall; we are very much littered up here abaft with spars and so on.”
“Ah, thank you very much; I will take your advice,” was the reply.
George saw the man motion with his arm, and the brig’s course was altered sufficiently to put her alongside with her gangway even with the Aurora’s fore-mast. Another second or two, and the ships gently jarred together, the brig’s quarter dropping alongside the barque at the same moment.
“Enfans, allons-nous-en!” exclaimed the voice of the stranger forward, followed by the sound of a leap on to the barque’s deck, and a scramble among the spars which littered it there.
“Now is your time, lads; jump for your lives!” exclaimed George in a low, excited tone; and, setting his men the example, he forthwith sprang from his own ship’s bulwarks to those of the brig; and dashing at the helmsman, cut him down with his cutlass before the fellow could recover sufficiently from his astonishment to utter a cry. Then, without a moment’s pause, he seized the wheel and exerting all his strength, sent it with a single twirl spinning hard over to starboard, where he lashed it.
The shock of collision, slight as it was, caused the two vessels to recoil from each other, and they were barely alongside when they separated again; George’s manipulation of the brig’s wheel, and a similar manipulation of the Aurora’s helm at the last moment before the touching of the two vessels, greatly expediting the separation. By the time, therefore, that George had looked about him, and satisfied himself that the whole of his crew were safely with him on the brig’s deck, the two vessels were a dozen feet apart and increasing their distance every second; their bows diverging from each other at almost a right angle.
The Frenchmen, on boarding the Aurora, divided into two parties, one of which rushed forward to secure the crew, while the other made a similar rush aft, for the purpose of overpowering the officers and helmsman. In their astonishment and perplexity at finding the decks deserted, they paused for a moment irresolutely, then hurriedly searched the cabin and forecastle, only to find that the ship was utterly deserted. Then, for the first time, a glimmering of the truth presented itself to the mind of the French leader, and his suspicions were instantly confirmed; for Captain Leicester, having at that moment rallied his crew, led them forward, and, finding that, as he had expected, the Frenchmen had boarded the Aurora with all their available strength, leaving only some five-and-twenty men on board the brig to handle her, he, after a short, sharp tussle, drove these men below and secured complete possession of the brig.
The party on board the Aurora distinctly heard the sounds of the conflict, and waited in breathless expectancy for its termination. They had not long to wait; in little over a couple of minutes Captain Leicester’s voice was heard giving the order to shift the helm—the brig having in the meantime gone round until she was head to wind with her canvas flat aback—and to trim over the head-sheets. Then a chorus of curses, both loud and deep, from the deck of the Aurora, proclaimed the chagrin of the Frenchmen on board her at the—to them—extraordinary and unforeseen result of the adventure.
But their captain was a man of indomitable pluck, energy, and readiness of resource, and by no means given to a tame and immediate acceptance of defeat. He realised the situation in a moment, and, determining to make the best of a bad bargain, promptly ordered sail to be crowded upon the Aurora, in the hope of effecting his escape. The night being dark, however, and his men new to the ship, the work went on but slowly; and by the time that the topgallantsails were sheeted home, his own brig was once more alongside, with two red lights hoisted to her gaff-end (the alarm-signal), her ports open, guns run out, and the men standing by them ready to open fire.
As she drew up abreast the Aurora, George hailed—
“Barque ahoy! Let fly your sheets and halliards at once, and surrender, or I will fire into you!”
“All right,” was the reply from the French captain; “you have won the game, monsieur, so I will not attempt to rob you of the credit of victory. You managed the affair exceedingly well, mon ami, and have taught me a lesson I shall remember for the rest of my life. You may come on board and take possession as soon as you like.”
He then gave the necessary orders in French to his crew; the halliards and sheets were let fly on board the Aurora, George reducing sail at the same time in the brig, and the two vessels, losing way, began gradually to drop into the rear portion of the convoy.
Captain Leicester did not, however, accept the French captain’s invitation to go on board and take possession once more of his own ship; that proceeding would have been just a trifle too risky. He had the game in his own hands, and intended to keep it there; so he quietly waited until one of the men-o’-war should come alongside, as he knew would soon be the case, in response to his signal.
In a short time another brig was seen approaching under a perfect cloud of sail, an unmistakably English gun-brig this time, however. Sweeping up on the port quarter of George’s prize, an officer sprang into the main-rigging, and hailed—
“Brig ahoy! What brig is that?”
“The Jeune Virginie, French privateer,” answered George. “She managed, somehow, to slip in among the fleet unobserved in the darkness, and threw a heavy boarding-party in on the deck of my vessel—the Aurora I suspected her designs just in time, however, and as her crew boarded me, I boarded her, and succeeded in taking possession; the two ships separating immediately and thus preventing the return of the French to their own craft.”
“Ah, I see,” remarked the officer. “You effected an exchange of ships—‘choppee for changee—a black dog for a blue monkey,’ eh? And now you want us to get your own ship back for you?”
“Not exactly,” answered George with a laugh; “I have already forced her to surrender; that is the craft—the barque immediately under my lee. But I shall feel obliged if you will take charge of the prisoners, and lend me sufficient men to navigate my prize into port.”
“Um; well, I really do not quite know about that. I will man your prize for you to-night; but you must see the commodore about the matter in the morning; if he will authorise me to lend you a prize-crew, of course I shall be very happy. By the way, where did the Frenchman come from?”
“When I saw the craft first, she was about a couple of cables’ lengths directly astern of us,” answered Leicester.
“She was, eh!” remarked the officer. “Well, there will be a pretty row to-morrow about her being allowed to slip in undetected. I will send a boat on board your own ship at once, to remove the prisoners; and, that done, I will tell off a crew to man your prize for you.”
This was accordingly done, and an hour after the arrival of the Throstle upon the scene, George and his crew were once more comfortably established on board their own ship.
On the following morning the affair was officially reported to the commodore, who put himself into a tremendous passion about it, declaring that such an occurrence reflected indelible disgrace upon the whole British navy, and that he would bring to court-martial every one of the officers belonging to the convoying ships;—which, however, seeing that at bottom he was a fine, good-hearted old fellow, he never did. And after abusing everybody else, he sent for George, complimented him upon his gallantry publicly on the quarterdeck of the Tremendous, offered to obtain a commission for him (an offer which our hero was foolish enough to decline), and gave his hearty consent to the proposed borrowing of a prize-crew.
But the affair did not by any means end here; for on the following night, which was almost as dark as the preceding one, three ships belonging to the merchant-fleet under convoy gave an unusual and altogether extraordinary amount of trouble to the captains of the gun-brigs by their persistent straggling; and, suspicion being at length aroused, they were all found to be in the hands of French prize-crews, having been surprised and captured by the Jeune Virginie immediately prior to her unsuccessful attempt upon the Aurora. Had they been only a little less anxious to effect their escape, they might, as the event proved, have accomplished it without the slightest difficulty.
About 2 p.m. on the day following the recapture of these three vessels, the weather being at the time stark calm, with an overcast sky, the signal to “shorten sail and prepare for bad weather,” was exhibited on board the commodore’s ship—the old Tremendous. It was very difficult to make out the signal, the flags hanging from the masthead in such close, motionless folds that it was almost impossible to identify them; so, after a long and anxious scrutiny of them through his telescope, George, thinking he must surely have misinterpreted the message, dived below to take a look at his barometer. A single glance at it was sufficient to show him that he was not mistaken, the mercury having fallen a full inch in little more than two hours.
When he returned to the deck again, which he did immediately, the various ships were lying with their heads all round the compass, the merchantmen showing no signs that they understood the signal; but on board the men-o’-war the crews were seen to be very busy reefing topsails; the topgallant and royal-masts and yards being already sent down on deck.
Captain Leicester lost no time in following their example, as far as he was able. To send down on deck any of his top-hamper, with his limited crew, was of course quite out of the question, but he called all hands, and, hurrying them aloft, set them to work, first to furl all the light upper canvas, and then to close-reef both topsails. This done, he ordered them to furl the main and fore courses, which were already clewed up.
Part of the crew were already on the main-yard, and the remainder, having completed the reefing of the fore-topsail, had descended from aloft forward and were on their way up the main-rigging to assist in the stowing of the main-sail, when a heavy black, threatening-looking cloud-bank, which lay stretched along the western horizon, was seen to suddenly burst open, revealing a broad copper-tinted rent, which widened with alarming rapidity.
George’s quick eye detected the change in an instant, and knowing what it meant, and that there was no time to lose, hailed the crew with a loud shout of—
“Now then, my lads, look alive aloft there, and toss up that main-sail smartly. If you are quick about it, you may yet get the gaskets round it before the gale strikes us; if you are not, we shall lose the sail, and very probably some of you, too.”
The men answered with a cheery “Ay, ay, sir,” and set to work with a will, Leicester and the chief mate springing aft to the wheel at the same moment.
In the meantime the broad yellow rent in the clouds to the westward had spread very considerably, the vapour overhead had gathered way, and was scudding rapidly across the sky in an easterly direction, and already, upon the western horizon, a long, rapidly advancing line of white foaming water gave unmistakable indications of the close proximity of the hurricane. The old Tremendous now did what she could to hurry up the laggards, by firing rapid signal-guns; and the crews of the several ships, waking up at last, were seen swarming aloft, when it was too late, to shorten sail.
The Aurora was lying with her head pointed to the southward, with her starboard broadside presented square to the wind, when the gale first struck her. Her skipper, anxious to save his canvas, if possible, kept his men aloft as long as he dared, urging and encouraging them with his voice to exert themselves to their utmost; but when he saw the old Tremendous bow under the first stroke of the blast as though she meant to “turn the turtle” altogether, he thought it was high time to look to the safety of his crew.
“Make fast, and come down at once, lads,” he shouted; “down with you, for your lives; the canvas must take care of itself now.”
Startled by the anxious sharpness of the hail, the men hurriedly knotted the gaskets, just as they were, and scuttled in off the yard like so many frightened squirrels.
They were all in the main-rigging when the hurricane burst upon the ship. With a terrific, unearthly streaming roar it rushed upon her, and the barque, as if conscious of her utter inability to withstand its tremendous strength, instantly went over on her beam-ends, with her lower yard-arms dipping into the water. The men in the lee-rigging were almost completely sheltered by the hull of the ship, and they had therefore but little difficulty in holding on. But they were obliged to remain where they were, the lower portion of the shrouds being buried some eight feet deep in water, thus precluding the possibility of the men descending to the deck; whilst to go aloft again and endeavour to descend to windward, was as much as their lives were worth. They had a practical illustration of this in the fact that two of the men in the weather shrouds were actually torn from their hold, and dashed with such violence against the main-top that one man had his arm, and the other, three of his ribs broken.
Captain Leicester, on seeing the near approach of the hurricane, had, after hailing his men to come down from aloft, lashed the wheel hard-a-starboard, and then, accompanied by Mr Bowen, he hurried away to the foot of the main-mast, where they cast off the starboard fore-braces and hauled in upon the larboard until they had braced the topsail as sharp up as it was possible for two men to get it. The result of this manoeuvre was that, when the gale struck the Aurora, her main-topsail, which was a-shiver, was blown clean out of the bolt-ropes in an instant, as also was the foresail and the partially-stowed main-sail; whilst the fore-topsail was strongly filled at once, and being luckily a new sail, and standing the strain upon it bravely, it quickly began to drag the ship through the water. As soon as she gathered way, her bows began to pay off, and presently she recovered her upright position with a jerk which snapped both her topgallant-masts close off by the caps.
The wheel was now righted, and away the Aurora went, scudding dead before it, under her close-reefed fore-topsail only. The crew now made the best of their way down on deck, the head-yards were squared, and an effort was made to clear away the wreck, two of the men volunteering for, and succeeding in, the dangerous task of going aloft to cut away the fore and main-topgallant rigging.
George now had time to look about him a little, and observe the state of affairs prevailing outside his own ship. On all sides were to be seen ships—men-o’-war as well as merchantmen—scudding, like his own, before the irresistible fury of the gale. Nearly every ship had suffered damage of some sort, either to sails, spars, or rigging; and out of them all, very few had come better out of the first buffet than the Aurora. Here was to be seen a craft with topgallant-masts and jib-boom gone, and her canvas hanging from her yards in long tattered streamers; there another with nothing standing above her lower mastheads; here a barque with her main-yard carried away; there a stately ship with her mizzenmast and all attached still towing astern, and the crew busy cutting away at the rigging which held the shattered spar; here another fine ship, totally dismasted; and there, now far astern, more than one dark object lying low in the water, and but imperfectly seen through the flying spindrift, which George Leicester knew only too well were the hulls of ships which had capsized, and whose crews would be left to perish miserably, since no human power could possibly save them in an hour like that.
It soon became evident to the crew of the Aurora, that though they had so far escaped with comparatively slight damage, they could certainly not regard their ship as by any means free from peril so long as they remained in the company of the rest of the fleet. So many ships scudding together almost helplessly before the fury of the gale could not but prove a very great source of danger to each other, now that it was no longer possible to regulate their rate of sailing; and George soon found himself confronted with a new anxiety, that of being in danger of a collision. The sea was rising with extraordinary rapidity, and the various craft soon began to steer wildly, sheering so rankly, first to one side and then to the other, that many of them threatened to broach-to altogether.
The Aurora was a very smart little vessel under her canvas, as she now proved by keeping pace with two large ships, one of which lay on her port-bow, and the other on her starboard beam. So even was the rate of sailing of the three that neither of them, anxious as each was to accomplish the feat, could draw away from the others; and the strength of the gale was such that it was equally impossible for them either to make or to reduce sail. There they remained, therefore, maintaining exactly the same relative position to each other, now sheering uncontrollably inwards, so that each man held his breath and braced himself for the shock which seemed inevitable, and which, under such circumstances, must result in the total destruction of both ships; and, anon, surging as wildly off in opposite directions.
To add still further to Captain Leicester’s embarrassments, the trio of ships were rapidly overhauling a fourth, which was wallowing along dead ahead of the Aurora. She was a large craft, apparently of about eight hundred tons measurement; her three topmasts were carried away close off by the caps; the wreckage was all lying inboard, cumbering up her decks; her courses and staysails were blown to ribbons; and she was steering so badly that it was difficult to say where she was going, except that her general direction was to leeward. George saw that, should he overtake this vessel before getting clear of the two which already hampered him so seriously, a catastrophe was inevitable, and he speedily made up his mind that the Aurora’s speed must be sufficiently reduced to allow of her dropping astern and into the wake of one or the other of his present consorts. The only means by which, under the circumstances, this could be accomplished was by sacrificing the fore-topsail; and he accordingly called for a volunteer to assist him in the task. Mr Bowen and the carpenter both proffered their services, and, selecting the latter, and requesting the chief mate to take charge of the deck and superintend the conning of the ship, George went forward, followed by the carpenter, and led the way aloft. Now that they were scudding before it, the strength of the wind was no longer felt to its full extent; it was still powerful enough, however, to make the journey aloft full of peril, and the two adventurers were compelled to make frequent pauses on their way, in order to avoid being blown out of the rigging. At length, however, they reached the yard, and, producing their knives, began to work their way outwards from the mast, one toward each yard-arm, cutting the seizings as they came to them. Their task was soon accomplished; for when half the seizings were cut, the wind saved them all further trouble by carrying away the remainder; the sail gave one terrific flap—which sprung the fore-yard—and then, tearing out of its bolt-ropes, went soaring away ahead of them, like a flake of cloud.
Thus relieved, the Aurora’s speed sensibly diminished and by the time that George was once more down on deck, they were able, by watching their opportunity, to sheer in under the stern of the ship which had before lain upon their port-bow, and thus place the Aurora comparatively out of harm’s way.
They were only just in time. The ship ahead was overtaken, and, in sheering into her new position, the Aurora was compelled to shave close past the stranger’s stern. Glancing up at her as they shot past, with a feeling of deep gratitude at their escape, George saw a little crowd of passengers huddled together upon her poop, like frightened sheep. They were all looking at the Aurora, evidently fully aware of the danger from which they had so narrowly escaped; and among them George suddenly recognised a face which he had more than half hoped he would never see again—the face of his successful rival, as he believed him to be, Lieutenant Walford.
George waved his hand in recognition, the salutation was half reluctantly returned, and then the two craft separated; but not before George had had time to read the name painted on her stern—the Princess Royal, of London.