Chapter Ten.
An important Mission.
Once fairly at sea and out of reach of the enemy’s shot, we had time to take a look at ourselves and realise the extent of our damages. When passing over the same ground a few hours before, the “Juno” presented as pretty a picture as a nautical connoisseur could wish to see, with her hull recently painted, every spar in its place, and adjusted there to a nicety, her rigging in perfect order, and her white sails—the new look just worn off them, and barely stretched into their proper shape—without a blemish or fault to mar their perfect appearance. Now, she passed out to sea with her fore and main-topgallant-masts and mizen-topmast hanging over the side, the fore-topsail-yard down on the cap, the spankerboom shot away in the jaws, the flying-jib-stay and halliards cut through and the sail towing alongside, her canvas riddled with shot-holes, ends and bights of ropes streaming out in the wind everywhere aloft, and two 36-pound shot in her side. Luckily, however, our casualties ended here; for, notwithstanding the hailstorm of shot through which we had passed, not a man on board was hurt.
We were busy the remainder of that night, and a good part of the following day, making good the damages sustained. By evening, however, we were all ataunto once more; and as soon as the work was finished, Captain Hood mustered the hands and made them a speech, thanking them, both officers and men, for the courage and determination with which all had co-operated with him in effecting the escape of the ship from an enemy’s port, wherein she actually lay aground surrounded by armed ships, and with numerous heavily armed batteries opposing our departure. Percival was specially referred to, his skill in piloting the ship in and out again being dwelt upon in highly commendatory terms; and then—the skipper being a rare hand at turning out a neat speech and rounding it off with a compliment—the men were told that, having behaved so exceptionally well, their officers would now have no hesitation about engaging in any enterprise, however hazardous or hopeless it might appear, confident that the men they led would support them as long as they had strength to stand.
At the close of this speech the men, as in duty bound, gave three cheers, the hammocks were piped down, and life on board the “Juno” resumed once more its normal conditions.
The first question which suggested itself to the skipper, after getting his ship once more into fighting order, naturally was what was to be done with the supernumeraries which we had on board. His instructions, it appeared, made no provision whatever for the possibility of such a contretemps as had befallen us, and he was, in consequence, quite at a loss what to do. Finally, after talking the affair over with Mr Annesley, he resolved to take them back to Malta, and a course was accordingly shaped for that island. We accomplished the passage in five days, and landed the men, who were glad enough to plant their feet on mother earth once more, after knocking about in their confined quarters for nearly a fortnight.
During our absence, information of the evacuation of Toulon by Lord Hood had reached the island, and it was taken quite for granted that, going to the place in ignorance of this important fact, as we were, we should inevitably fall into some trap and be made prisoners; when therefore we put in an appearance once more, and the details of our escape were made known, we immediately became the object of unbounded curiosity and admiration. Hundreds flocked to see the ship (many of them being intensely disappointed at the almost entire absence of visible indications of the peril through which she had passed), and officers and men alike were pointed out and looked after in the streets, until we ran the greatest risk of becoming inordinately vain of our exploit. The admiration of the islanders did not end here, however; for it being deemed advisable to place the frigate in dry dock to examine her bottom and smooth her copper, after having touched the ground, as well as to make good a few defects which were beyond our own unaided powers, we were balled, fêted, picnicked, and generally made much of for three days by the excitable and pleasure-loving inhabitants, at the end of which time, our repairs being completed, we were hurried away to sea with sealed orders, to be opened off Cape Spartivento.
We arrived off this headland on the 22nd of January, and Captain Hood then learned that we were to remain on the spot until the evening of the 24th, when, if no farther instructions reached him, he was to open a sealed paper which he found enclosed with his orders. The ship was accordingly hove-to and placed under reefed topsails, a private signal was hoisted at the main-royal-mast-head, and in order that the time might not be absolutely wasted, the crew were put through a special course of drill.
A sharp lookout was maintained, in order that there might be no possibility of our being passed unobserved by any craft bearing later instructions; but though we saw plenty of feluccas passing along the coast, the only craft which came at all near us was a magnificent 40-gun frigate, which hoisted French colours and bore down towards us on our showing our ensign; but having approached within four miles and lying hove-to for half an hour, she resumed her original course to the northward, leaving us in a most unchristian frame of mind towards the admiral, whose orders tied us to the spot, and prevented our accepting the challenge she had given. We at first cherished the hope that if we did not go out to her, she would come down and attack us, but such a slice of good luck was not just then to fall to our lot.
The stipulated period of our stay off Cape Spartivento having at length expired, Captain Hood broke open the packet to which reference has already been made, and having acquainted himself with the farther instructions therein contained, orders were forthwith issued to make sail to the northward and westward.
We had a fine breeze from the eastward, to which we showed a heavy press of canvas; the frigate accordingly made short miles of the trip along the Sardinian coast, and on the following evening arrived off the Gulf of Ajaccio in Corsica, the coast-line being about twenty miles distant, and consequently “hull-down;” the mountain-chain, however, which forms as it were the backbone of Corsica, was distinctly visible, lighted up as it was by the gorgeous tints of sunset. Sail was now shortened to topsails, and the frigate hove-to.
While all hands were wondering more or less what the next move would be, I was sent for by the skipper to go to him in his cabin. On arriving there, I found him and Mr Annesley seated at the cabin-table with a decanter of port standing between them, glasses of the same at their elbows, and a large map spread out in the full light of the cabin lamp, which had just been lighted; the table being further littered with a large number of official-looking documents.
As I entered the cabin, Captain Hood raised his eyes from the map, over which both officers had been earnestly poring, and said,—
“Oh! come in, Mr Chester, and bwing yourself to an anchor. Atkins! a wine-glass for Mr Chester. There, help yourself, young gentleman.”
I poured out a glass of the port, wondering, as I sipped it, wherever the skipper managed to pick up so very excellent a wine; and when the steward had retired, closing the door after him, Captain Hood looked across the table at me, and said,—
“Mr Chester, I have been gweatly gwatified at the continued good weports which Mr Annesley makes of your conduct. He speaks vewy highly of your intelligence, persevewance, zeal, and couwage, and I—ah—may say that—er—I have myself noted fwom time to time your possession of those—ah—desiwable chawactewistics. Partly on this account, and partly because of your—ah—intimate knowledge of the Fwench language, I have selected you for the performance of a service in which all the qualities I have mentioned are—er—conspicuously necessawy. You will understand this more clearly when I explain that the service consists in the safe conveyance of certain vewy important documents to the hands of a Corsican gentleman on shore yonder, in the face of unknown but possibly sewious difficulties from the numewous Fwench twoops occupying the island, and into whose hands the documents in question must by no means be allowed to fall. I should hesitate vewy stwongly about intwusting one so young with a mission so delicate but for Mr Annesley’s positive assuwance that I may safely do so. Now, what say you? are you willing to undertake the service?”
To say that I jumped at the offer would but feebly express the eagerness with which I answered in the affirmative. Here was one of those chances for distinguishing myself for which I had so ardently longed, and here too was the prospect of at least temporary freedom from the restraints of discipline and the monotony of shipboard, to say nothing of the possibilities of excitement and adventure involved in the performance of a secret service in the enemy’s country. It was with the utmost difficulty I controlled my excitement sufficiently to listen to the skipper’s instructions, and to absorb and master the information necessary to the successful conduct of the enterprise.
The map spread upon the table was a map of Corsica drawn to a large scale, and showing every road, stream, mountain-path, wood, chateau—indeed I might almost say every house on the island; and upon it was marked in red ink the various French posts, as far as they could be ascertained, while crosses in blue ink indicated the posts of the insurgent Corsicans. Captain Hood produced also a skeleton map of the island drawn to a very small scale, containing only such information as was necessary for my guidance; and during the delivery of his instructions frequent reference was made to both these maps, as well as to a manuscript book of what would be called “sailing directions” if it referred to a journey by water instead of by land, and from which I made brief notes from time to time, by way of memory-refreshers, in a tiny book with which Captain Hood furnished me. The skipper kept me with him for more than two hours—in fact until he had satisfied himself that I not only thoroughly understood what was required of me—which was very simple, being merely to find an individual, who was to be identified by certain pre-arranged tokens, and to deliver my despatches, or whatever they were, into his hands—but also that I had mastered every scrap of information which he was able to give me. When at length he found that I was fully “posted up,” he dismissed me to make my preparations, cautioning me to dress in plain clothes, and to exercise the utmost care that I carried no document or article of any description with me whereby I might be identified as belonging to the English service, “otherwise,” he grimly observed, “they will hang you without hesitation on the nearest tree. One thing more,” he continued, as I rose to leave the cabin; “as soon as you are landed, we shall proceed in search of Commodore Linzee’s squadron, which we are ordered to join; it is therefore quite uncertain when you may have an opportunity to return to the ship; but as I have reason to believe we shall operate somewhere at the northern end of the island, as soon as you have accomplished your mission you had better make for either Calvi or Bastia, and when you can learn our actual whereabouts, seize the first opportunity which offers to rejoin. Here,” handing me a packet, “is a sufficient amount of Fwench money to cawwy you handsomely thwough the business if no hitch occurs; if it does, you must exercise your ingenuity to get yourself out of the difficulty. Now go away and get weady, and—ah—er—I heartily wish you success. Good-bye.”
He offered me his hand—with just the slightest perceptible touch of stiffness in the gesture—which I seized and shook so heartily in the excitement of the moment as to cause him to raise his eyebrows in astonishment at my audacity. The next minute I was on deck once more, with the cool night-air fanning my flushed and burning cheeks, while it urged the frigate through the water at a rate of about seven knots toward the lights of Ajaccio, which glimmered on the horizon broad on our starboard bow.