Chapter Five.
We fly from the Frenchman.
When I went on deck again at the change of the watches, it was still very thick, but the breeze was freshening, and it and the sun together promised soon to disperse the vapour. It was still so thick, however, that it was impossible to see more than three or four lengths away from the vessel, and the “Scourge” was consequently kept hove-to.
The skipper had made his appearance on deck for a few minutes before sitting down to breakfast, and about nine o’clock he came up again, just as the fog had begun to clear away in earnest, opening up like a curtain every now and then, and showing clear spaces of about half a mile or so in extent, then settling down again as thick as ever, but each time clearing away more thoroughly, and revealing larger and still larger open spaces. At length the mist lifted for a moment to such an extent that it became possible to see to a distance of perhaps a couple of miles, and as it did so there was a simultaneous hail from the lookout aloft and five or six of the hands on deck of “Sail ho!”
“Sail ho! sure enough,” exclaimed the skipper and Mr Sennitt, as both caught sight of the stranger at the same moment. “A frigate! French, too, as I’m a living sinner,” continued the first luff, taking a squint through his glass at the craft. “Ah! he is as sharp-sighted as we are,” he went on, with the telescope still at his eye. “Up goes his helm, and there go the lads aloft to make sail, he’s coming down to say ‘how d’ye do’ to us, sir. And there goes the tricolour up to his peak.”
“Hard up with the helm, my man,” said Captain Brisac very quietly to the helmsman. “Turn the hands up, and pack on her, Mr Sennitt; discretion is the better part of valour with us just now, and our only chance is to show Johnny Crapaud a clean pair of heels.” Our lads flew aloft like lightning, and away we went staggering to leeward, with stunsails alow and aloft on the port side, steering a course which would take us pretty directly up Channel. So smart were the “Scourge” in making sail that they were all down on deck again, and every inch of our canvas dragging at us like a cart-horse, before the Frenchman had got his stunsail-booms fairly rigged out.
As soon as we had got the canvas fairly set, ropes all coiled down, and the decks generally cleared up, I slipped down into the berth for my telescope, with which I returned to the deck, and proceeded to make a deliberate inspection of our unwelcome neighbour.
She was about a mile and a half distant from us, bearing a couple of points on our weather quarter, and I thought I had never seen a more beautiful sight than she presented, as she came foaming after us, with the sun lighting up her snowy canvas and flashing brightly from her burnished copper as she rose on the crest of the swell, showing her cutwater half-way down to the keel. Her sails were evidently new—so new, indeed, that they had scarcely had time to stretch to their proper dimensions—and her paint looked fresh and clean; these circumstances impressing the acute Mr Sennitt with the conviction that the craft was fresh out of the dockyard from an extensive overhaul, or that she was a new vessel. The beautiful and graceful model of her hull, and the smart appearance of her spars and rigging, induced him to incline very strongly to the latter supposition.
It soon became evident that this beautiful craft was going nearly two feet to our one, but she was steered so shamefully that she had not materially decreased the distance between us at the end of the first hour; our hopes, therefore, which had sunk to zero with the imminent prospect of a French prison before our eyes, began once more to soar skyward as mile after mile slipped away beneath our flying keel, and every minute increased the probability of our falling in with one of our own cruisers. The skipper was dreadfully put out at being obliged to run away, but though the French frigate was very nearly dead astern she yawed about sufficiently to enable us to count sixteen ports of a side, and even Mr Sennitt—who was accounted the greatest fire-eater on board—was fain to acknowledge that this was just a gun or two too many for us.
By four bells every trace of the fog had cleared away, the sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless sky, the air had a decided feeling of warmth in it, the westerly breeze blew freshly, and the waves curled crisply and broke into foam at their crests under its enlivening influence; altogether it was a thoroughly delightful day, such as is occasionally to be met with toward the end of March—a day when winter and summer have fairly met to fight for the mastery, and summer is getting it all her own way. As time sped on, and still no friendly sail appeared, while the frigate astern drew more and more perceptibly up to us, anxiety once more resumed its sway, and frequent were the admonitions to the lookout aloft to “keep his weather eye lifting.”
At length the Frenchmen decided to try the range of their guns, and opened fire upon us from their lee bow-chaser. The shot flew wide, but it went far enough beyond us to show that we were fairly within range. Another and another followed, and still we were unscathed. An interval of about a quarter of an hour elapsed before they again fired, and when they did the shot was somewhat better aimed, passing through the main and fore-topsails and falling into the sea a considerable distance ahead.
“I think we are now near enough to venture upon a return of the compliment, Mr Sennitt,” said the skipper. “Let Tompion see what he can do with the stern-chaser, in the way of knocking away some of the fellow’s spars. It seems a pity to spoil so pretty a picture, but better that than for us to experience the delights of a French prison.”
Tompion was accordingly summoned and bid do his best to “wing” the Frenchman, a task to which he devoted himself with great gravity and a considerable assumption of importance. The gun, after being carefully loaded, was trained with the most scrupulous nicety, and then Tompion, trigger-line in hand, stood squinting along the sights until a favourable moment arrived, when—there was a concussion; the smoke cleared away, and a shot-hole was seen in the frigate’s foresail, very nearly in a line with the mast.
“Very prettily shot, Tompion,” said the skipper; “try again. A few inches nearer, and you would have buried that shot in his foremast. Wound the spars if you can; the breeze seems inclined to freshen; and if you can gouge a good substantial piece out of some of his lighter spars, the wind will do the rest for us by sending them handsomely over his bows.”
In a few minutes more away sped a second of the worthy Tompion’s messengers; it, too, passed through the foresail, close to the yard, but apparently without doing any further damage. In the meantime the Frenchmen were by no means idle with their guns, and our running-gear began to be somewhat cut up; luckily, however, the damage was of an unimportant character, and such as could be put right in a few minutes, with the aid of a marline-spike and a grease-shoe. The firing now became more rapid on both sides; but though the spars on each side had several narrow escapes, none had, so far, fallen, and the damage done seemed in each case to be but of the most trifling description.
At length Mr Sennitt walked aft and said, “Let me try my hand, Tompion; I used to be considered rather a crack shot on board the old ‘Dido.’”
Tompion, of course, resigned his place to his superior officer, though it was evident from the expression of his phiz that he had no great faith in the first luff’s shooting powers. But our worthy “first” speedily justified his boast; for his shot struck the boom-iron at the Frenchman’s larboard fore-yard-arm, snapping it off, unshipping the boom, and creating a very pretty state of confusion with the topmast and lower stunsails and their gear.
A ringing cheer was raised on board the “Scourge” at this success, and Sennitt was about to try his hand a second time, when the frigate was seen to yaw broad off her course; a thin streak of flame flashed along her side, a veil of white fleecy smoke started into view, and was wafted aside by the wind, and sixteen twelve-pound shot—the entire contents of her starboard broadside—came whistling about our ears. I was standing aft, close to the taffrail, on the port side, at the moment, and one of the shot came crashing in at the stern-port nearest me, striking the stanchion heavily, and making the splinters fly in all directions, one of them striking me on the left temple, ripping up the skin and baring my poor unfortunate skull for a length of some four inches. The blow stunned me just for a moment, and I fell to the deck; but before any one had time to pick me up, I had recovered and staggered to my feet again, feeling a trifle confused, and somewhat sick—if the truth may be told—at the sight of my own blood, which streamed down over my face copiously, rendering me, I have no doubt, a truly ghastly spectacle; but otherwise I felt not much the worse.
The frigate was at this time scarcely half-a-mile distant, and had her guns been properly served, the broadside to which she had treated us ought to have left us floating a helpless wreck on the water, and completely at her mercy; but, instead of this, the shot which damaged me was the only one which could be said to have taken effect; the remainder of the broadside passing some through our sails, and some wide of their mark altogether.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” remarked the skipper to Sennitt, after he had glanced round, and noted the trifling damage done. “Hillo, Chester, are you hurt, my lad?” he added, addressing me, as he observed my gory visage. “Slip down to the doctor, and get him to clap a plaster over your mast-head, and then turn in, if you like. What a set of lubbers they are aboard that frigate!” he continued to Sennitt. “Had she been English, instead of French, that broadside would have blown us out of the water. I have been for the last ten minutes seriously thinking of hauling down the colours, rather than risk a heavy sacrifice of life; but if that is the best they can do, we will hold on everything, at all events for a short time longer. I wonder whether there would be any chance of—” and he said something in so low a tone that I did not catch it. Sennitt pondered deeply for a minute, then he looked up and said, “Upon my word, sir, I think it would. Our lads are rather raw, but they behaved splendidly in the case of the privateer, and so, I believe, they would now. Yes, I think it might have just a chance of success; a bold rush often does wonders.”
“You are right, Sennitt. Call the hands aft, if you please, and let us see how they take the proposal.”
My head was beginning to ache most villainously, but curiosity got the better of me for the moment, and I determined to postpone my visit to friend Bolus, until I had heard what the skipper had to say.
In a minute or two every man was on the quarter-deck, hat in hand, and expectancy in every feature.
“My lads,” commenced the skipper, “I have sent for you, because I have a proposition to make, and I wish to see for myself how you individually take it. When the frigate astern was first made out this morning, I was in hopes that the little ‘Scourge’ would prove active enough to keep us out of reach of the Frenchman’s shot; but you have seen for yourselves how completely fallacious that hope has been. The frigate goes two feet to our one, and were she being fought as so beautiful a craft ought to be, all hands of us would, by this time, be fairly under way for a French prison. But you see how it is; there are a lot of tinkers and tailors aboard there; they are not seamen, and do not deserve the luck of being sent to sea in such a fine vessel; it is evident that, though they may possibly know how to sail her, they cannot fight her. They cannot possibly keep her long; the English are certain to have her sooner or later, and since that is the case, why should not we have her? No, stay a moment; don’t cheer, lads, until you have heard me out. Of course, anything like a regularly fought action between us and her is out of the question; she is a two-and-thirty twelve-pounder, against which we can only show eight six pounders; a single broadside from her—well delivered—would send us to the bottom. But I think there is just a possibility—by a little manoeuvring on our part—of getting alongside her; and if that can be done, I am of opinion that, by a bold rush from all hands, we might secure possession of her. No doubt there will be plenty of hard knocks to be had for the asking; but even that is better than a French prison. What say you, my lads?”
A hearty cheer was the first response; then there was a general putting of heads together, and much eager talking for about a couple of minutes. Finally a topman—one Bob Adams—a magnificent specimen of the British tar, a perfect Hercules in build, and one of the prime seamen of the ship, shouldered his way to the front, and, with an elaborate sea-scrape and a tug at his forelock, addressed the skipper,—
“We hopes your honour will excuse us, if we’ve taken a minute or two to work out this here traverse, and reduce it to plain sailing; but the purposal as your honour has laid athwart our hawse fetched us all up standin’ just at first, and it warn’t until we’d had time to pay off, and gather way on t’other tack, as I may say, that we was able to get the bearins of it. You see, sir, there’s only about sixty on us all told, now that we’ve sent away a prize crew, and we reckon that there ain’t far short of 220 hands aboard of Johnny, yonder. Nevertheless and notwithstanding, howsumdever, as your honour says, they’re little better than so many tailors, and tailors was never worth very much that ever any of us heard on at a good stand-up fight; so the long and the short of it is this, sir; you put us alongside, and we’ll have her in the twinklin’ of a purser’s lantern. Ain’t that it, boys?”
“Ay, ay, that’s it, Bob; you’ve paid it out without so much as a single kink; we mean to have her,” responded a voice in the crowd.
“Then three cheers for the skipper, and may he get us lots of prize-money,” exhorted Bob, to the intense amusement of Captain Brisac; and the cheers were given with such energy that I have no doubt they were distinctly heard on board the Frenchman.
Captain Brisac briefly thanked the men for their plucky response to his call, and then sent them back to their quarters, all impatience for the eventful moment to arrive.
The frigate was rapidly nearing us, but I thought there would be time to get my head plastered up; so I rushed below, and found Bolus standing at the table, with his coat off and his shirt-sleeves rolled up; a formidable array of long, narrow-bladed knives, sharp enough to cut one if only looked hard at, on one hand, and an equally formidable array of saws, tweezers, long needles, silken thread, etcetera, etcetera, on the other.
“Here, doctor,” I exclaimed; “the skipper’s compliments, and will you ‘clap a plaster over my mast-head,’ and bear a hand about it, please; the Frenchman will be alongside of us in less than five minutes, and we are going to board and carry him with a rush.”
“And you, I presume, intend to head the boarders as usual,” remarked the doctor, with a quiet grin. “What is the extent of the damage? Here, sit down and let me have a look at it; don’t be impatient; I’ll undertake to tinker you up as good as new in two or three minutes,” he continued, as I seated myself, and he began to sponge the blood away. “There is no great harm done, merely a simple laceration of the scalp. There, I think that will keep the top of your head from blowing off, until after you have demolished the Frenchman. I should dearly like to go with you, but what would my poor patients do, if I happened to get an unlucky knock on the head? No; I must remain where I am, I suppose, though it’s too bad that I should be cooped up here, while others are having all the fun. Now you may go as soon as you please, but look here, my boy,” he added in quite a different tone; “take care of yourself; a knock on the head, such as you have had, is very apt to make one giddy, and giddiness is an awkward mishap at a critical moment; take my advice, and remain quietly below until all is over.”