Chapter Twenty One.
Le Narcisse.
My first act on regaining the cutter was to rouse Bob and the boy who officiated as cook on board the “Mouette;” with the object of obtaining from the former any news he might have to impart, and from the latter as substantial a breakfast as the resources of the cutter would permit.
I listened to Bob’s story while engaged upon the highly necessary operation of cleansing my person and encasing it once more in “the uniform proper to my rank.” Bobby had very little to tell me; and that little was by no means reassuring. It appeared that a despatch-boat had arrived from Malta on the previous day bringing letters for the fleet; and, among the rest, there had been a couple of epistles for me. Bob had gone on board the “Juno” for whatever letters there might be for the cutter’s crew, and had been ordered by the skipper to request my presence on board. Thereupon master Bob had presented my note informing the skipper of my proposed expedition. Instead of expressing his gratification at my zeal, as Bobby had fully expected he would, it appeared that the skipper had exhibited a very considerable amount of irritation; finally ordering friend Robert somewhat peremptorily back to the cutter, with instructions to send me without fail on board the “Juno” immediately on my return, if (which the skipper seemed to consider highly improbable) I ever succeeded in returning at all.
By the time that Summers had brought his story to a close I was ready for the breakfast which meantime had been preparing; and as it was still much too early to present myself before Captain Hood (who seldom appeared before eight bells) I sat down to the meal, with—it must be confessed—a somewhat diminished appetite; hastily skimming through my letters as I munched away at the weevily biscuits. There were two; one from my dear old dad, and one from Sir Peregrine. There was nothing of very special interest in either; my father’s epistle dealing chiefly with a few items of home gossip, such as that farmer Giles of the Glebe had met with an accident in the hunting-field, his colt falling with him and breaking the worthy farmer’s leg—doctor pronounced it a compound fracture; that the wife of Lightfoot, the gamekeeper, had presented her husband with twins once more—two girls this time; mother and twins doing well; that Old Jane Martin had been laid up all the winter with rheumatism, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera; and that finally, all at home were enjoying excellent health, and would be glad if I could find time to write to them a little more frequently. My great-uncle, Sir Peregrine, was not nearly so voluminous in his correspondence as my father—sailors are not as a rule very good correspondents—what he had to say was said in as few words as possible. Two pages of note-paper sufficed the worthy admiral to inform me that he had been intensely gratified at the terms in which my name had been mentioned in connexion with the storming of the Convention Redoubt, and that he was writing per same mail to “his friend Hood” (the admiral, not the captain), asking him to give me as many opportunities as he could of distinguishing myself—“or of getting knocked on the head,” thought I; and that if I needed any cash my drafts upon him would be duly honoured. Also, that he had not been out much during the winter, his old enemy the gout having attacked him so pertinaciously that he had been confined to the house for weeks at a time, moored “stem and stern” before the library fire, like a prison-hulk in Portsmouth Harbour!
My letters and my breakfast were got through in about the same time; and as Bob and I emerged from our tiny cabin on to the cutter’s narrow deck the ship’s bells were musically chiming out the eight strokes which proclaimed the end of one watch and the commencement of another. The skipper would, I knew, be stirring by this time, so I jumped into the dinghy, and proceeded on board the frigate.
As I stepped in on the “Juno’s” deck, Captain Hood made his appearance at the cabin-door. Touching my hat, I went up and reported myself.
“Good morning, Mr Chester,” observed he affably; “I am very glad to see you have come safely out of your escapade. But what do you mean, sir,” (assuming a tone of severity), “by presuming to undertake such an expedition without asking and obtaining permission? It is a manifest breach of discipline, and, as such, must be punished. I placed you in charge of the cutter as a kind of promotion, and by way of reward for your exemplary conduct generally. Now I shall be compelled to deprive you of your command. You will return forthwith to your duty on board the frigate, sir.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” I responded, considerably crestfallen. “I am extremely sorry to have incurred your displeasure, sir, I am sure. I would have asked permission, sir, but I was afraid that, after poor Mr Tupper’s death, it would be refused.”
“Very well, Mr Chester. I have no doubt you meant well, and therefore I have been lenient in the punishment which your breach of discipline demanded. You have been reprimanded on the quarter-deck, sir, and so we will say nothing more about it. Only I must impress upon you the necessity of being careful to avoid a repetition of the offence. Now come into the cabin and have some breakfast with me, and you can then tell us how you fared among the Frenchmen. If you have not already breakfasted, Mr Annesley,” (to the first lieutenant, who at this moment approached), “I shall be glad to have the pleasure of your company.”
So saying, the skipper turned on his heel, and led the way into the cabin, where we found the table well provided with a variety of good things highly provocative of appetite in a midshipman, even though he might have partaken of one breakfast already within an hour.
As soon as we had seated ourselves, and were supplied from the stock of delicacies before us,—
“Now,” said the skipper, “overhaul your log, Mr Chester, and let us hear how you managed to conduct your difficult enterprise. That young scamp, Summers, told me all about your gallant capture,” (with just the faintest possible ironical emphasis on the word gallant) “of the unfortunate fishermen, so you may as well commence at the point where you left the cutter in their boat.”
In obedience to this command I at once proceeded with my story, giving a detailed account of everything that had happened from the time of leaving the cutter to the moment of my return.
My auditors evinced the greatest interest in my narration, and were mightily tickled when I described the manner in which I had been relieved of my fish by the condescending cook and the friendly corporal. Their interest increased when I described my imprisonment in and the mode of escape from my dungeon; and when I had finished they both congratulated me very heartily upon what Captain Hood called “the resolution and courage” which I had exhibited. “It was a remarkably narrow squeak, Mr Chester,” remarked the skipper, “and I hope it will be a warning to you not to unnecessarily expose yourself to danger for the future. When duty calls it is of course quite another thing; and I am perfectly willing to give you credit for a desire in the present instance to perform a very important service. I have already reprimanded you for the breach of discipline which you committed in undertaking this expedition without first obtaining leave; let me now express my satisfaction with the way in which—apart from that—you have conducted yourself. You have succeeded in obtaining information which, I believe, will be of great value to the admiral, and I will endeavour so to represent your conduct to him as that he shall view it in a favourable light. Now, if you have finished breakfast, you had better go on board the cutter and transfer your chest and hammock to the frigate, and by-and-by I will take you on board the flag-ship and introduce you to the admiral, when you can make your report.”
Accepting this as a hint to be off about my business, I rose, and making my bow, left the cabin.
On reaching the deck I found that the whole of the inmates of the midshipmen’s berth, already apprised by the loquacious Bob of my escapade, were anxiously awaiting my reappearance, to learn all particulars, including the result of my private interview with the skipper. Briefly informing them, however, that I had been ordered to rejoin the frigate, and postponing all further information until a more convenient season, I hurried down over the side, and stepping into the cockleshell of a dinghy pulled on board the “Mouette,” where master Bob received my narration with a show of sympathy which thinly veiled his exultation at being left in sole command of the cutter.
Somehow I did not greatly regret the change. I was beginning to tire of the cramped accommodation on board the “Mouette;” and although I had been formally reprimanded for my “breach of discipline” I was acute enough to see that my conduct had, after all, made a favourable impression upon the skipper, and that I had, on the whole, risen, rather than fallen, in his estimation.
Hurriedly bundling my few belongings together and stowing them away in the boat, I shook hands with Bob, and was soon once more on board the “Juno.”
I had barely time to trim myself up a bit, when a message was brought me to the effect that the skipper’s gig was alongside, and only waited my presence on board to shove off for the admiral’s ship.
The “Victory” was lying at no great distance from us, and we were soon alongside.
I followed the skipper up the side-ladder, and found myself in the presence of the admiral, who was taking a constitutional up and down the quarter-deck in company with Sir Hyde Parker and Vice-Admiral Hotham from the “Britannia.”
Captain Hood immediately joined company (I remaining discreetly in the background, in accordance with previous instructions), and in the course of a minute or two the party, no doubt in consequence of a suggestion from the skipper, retired to the cabin.
In about twenty minutes afterwards I was sent for.
I entered the cabin with, I must confess, some slight degree of trepidation; for the admiral was a very queer sort of man in some respects, and one never knew in what light he would be likely to view such an exploit as mine. I had known of his having disrated more than one luckless mid for a far less heinous offence than so serious a breach of discipline as that of which I had been guilty; and disrating was the one thing which presented itself to me as more objectionable than anything else in the shape of punishment—except flogging; but I built my hopes upon the skipper’s good offices; and the result showed that I had no grounds for fear.
On entering, I was invited to take a chair which Lord Hood pointed out, and then, waiting until the cabin-door was shut, he rested his elbows on the table, and supporting his chin upon his hands, looked across at me and said—
“Your captain informs me, young gentleman, that, understanding I was anxious to obtain information respecting the condition of the enemy in Bastia, you voluntarily undertook a most hazardous journey thither, and were enabled, during your stay in the town, to make observations of considerable value. I should like to hear from your own lips a detailed narrative of the adventure.”
Thus commanded, I once more told my story, Lord Hood interrupting me from time to time to jot down memoranda in his note-book. When I had concluded my narration the admiral thanked me heartily for the “very important service” which I had rendered, and I was also complimented by my audience upon “the skill and intrepidity” with which I had carried out the reconnoissance. Taking these last remarks as a polite intimation that the interview was at an end, I bowed and withdrew. A few minutes afterwards the admiral’s boat was ordered, and as soon as she was manned, Lord Hood, Sir Hyde Parker, and the skipper got into her, and pulled away for the British lines on shore—Captain Hood directing me, as he passed down the side, to take his gig back to the frigate.
On the following day a flag of truce was sent into the town negotiations were opened, and on the 22nd of May, 1794, the garrison capitulated on very favourable terms to themselves.
From this date I find nothing in my diary worthy of remark until we come to the reduction of Calvi on the 10th of August following. I was at the time recovering from an attack of low fever, and had been off duty for some four or five weeks.
On the evening of the capture I was walking slowly up and down the poop, when Captain Hood came up the poop-ladder and very kindly inquired after my health. I replied that I was getting rapidly stronger, and should be very glad when the doctor would allow me to return to duty.
“Ah! yes,” said he, “I daresay you will. Very irksome to be idling about the decks all day. I should think change of air would do you good.”
“I believe it would, sir,” I replied, thinking from his manner of speaking that he had a proposal of some sort to make.
“Yes, no doubt about it,” returned the skipper. “And you would like it? Then be so kind as to find Mr Malcolm,” (the surgeon), “and ask him to step into my cabin for a moment, if he is disengaged.”
Certain now that there was something in the wind, I lost no time in hunting up the worthy medico and delivering the skipper’s message, which I supplemented by a request upon my own account, that if any proposal were made to send me away upon another expedition, the doctor would kindly throw no difficulties in the way.
To which the canny Scotchman replied,—
“Before makin’ any sic a promise, I’ll just bide a wee and speir a few particulars anent the nature o’ the said expedition, laddie. If it’s o’ a nature to prove benefecial to your health—why then I’m no saying but what I may be induced to do what I can to forward your views; but no’ itherwise.”
I watched him into the cabin, and then “stood off and on” outside upon the quarter-deck, awaiting his reappearance.
I had not long to wait. In less than five minutes he came out upon the quarter-deck, and seeing me, beckoned me to approach.
“It’s a’ right, laddie,” said he, “just gang ben til him,”—pointing to the cabin—“and tak’ your instructions. It’s just the vera thing I wad hae prescribed for you had it been possible to hae had the prescription mad’ up. But ye’ll no gang oot o’ the ship until ye hae been to me for a wee drappie pheesic ye maun tak’ along wi’ ye, d’ye mind?”
I promised the kind-hearted old fellow I would be sure to do his bidding and then joyously entered the cabin.
“Sit down, Mr Chester,” said the skipper, when I made my appearance. I took the chair which he had indicated, and he then proceeded,—
“The admiral has some important despatches to send away, which he is anxious should reach England as speedily as possible. The ‘Vigilant’ will take them hence to Gibraltar, and the admiral there will be requested to despatch a frigate with them for the rest of the journey, as Lord Hood thinks the ‘Vigilant’ scarcely fit to cross the Bay of Biscay. The only question has been who to send with them, as there is still a great deal to be done before the fleet can leave the island, and there are no officers to spare. Lord Hood mentioned the matter to me, and I immediately thought of you. You will have nothing to do but simply navigate the craft to Gibraltar, which, I learn, you are quite able to do; and it will be a pleasant change for you—beneficial, too, Malcolm says. There is only one thing I feel called upon to suggest to you, and that is—caution. Recollect that you are a despatch-boat, not a cruiser; and let nothing which you can possibly avoid tempt you to delay the delivery of the despatches or endanger their safety. You are very young for such a trust, I know; but you seem to have as much tact and discretion as a good many of your seniors, and I see no reason why you should not execute the service satisfactorily. At all events I have answered for you, and I trust you will do all you can to justify my good opinion of you. You had better shift your traps over to the ‘Vigilant’ at once, and then proceed on board the admiral’s ship for the despatches and your instructions, as he is anxious for you to sail at once.”
I thanked the skipper heartily both for the thoughtfulness and consideration which had procured for me the change of air which seemed needed for my complete recovery, and also for the confidence in me which such a commission argued; and I promised him most earnestly that the safe delivery of the despatches should be my paramount care.
“That’s right, Mr Chester,” said he, as I rose to leave the cabin. “Before I say good-bye, I may as well mention that I have been greatly pleased with your conduct ever since you first joined the ship. I consider you a most promising young officer; you have conducted yourself extremely well on more than one trying occasion, and I have procured this little commission for you in the hope that it will afford you still another opportunity of acquiring credit and advancing your interests. I wish you a quick and prosperous passage, and shall be glad to see your safe return. And as long as you continue to conduct yourself well, you may count upon me as a friend, willing to do all that is possible to aid you. Now—good-bye! and take care of yourself.”
So saying, he shook hands heartily with me, and then, flinging himself back once more in his chair, he turned to a number of papers which littered his table; while I made my way out upon deck, scarcely knowing whether I stood upon my head or my heels, so overjoyed was I at the prospect of the trip.
In less than an hour afterwards I was on board the “Vigilant,” with the despatch-box safely stowed away in the most secret hiding-place I could find, and my instructions in my breast-pocket.
The night was lovely, not the faintest breath of air ruffled the surface of the glassy waters, in whose dark mysterious depths glittered a perfect reflection of every star which beamed in the blue-black vault overhead. So perfect was the stillness of nature that we could hear, with the utmost distinctness, the songs of the men on board the different ships, and even the talking and laughing on board those in our more immediate vicinity; and when we rigged out our sweeps to sweep the craft into the offing, where I hoped we might the sooner catch a breeze, their roll and rattle seemed almost unbearably loud in contrast with the quiet which prevailed around us.
Having a good strong crew on board, I kept them at the sweeps for a couple of hours, by which time we had gained an offing of about eight miles, when I ordered the sweeps to be laid in and the canvas to be set. Shortly afterwards the moon rose, and, bringing up a nice little southerly breeze with her, we were soon slipping through the water, close-hauled on the port tack, and laying well up on our course for old Gib.
The skipper had been considerate enough to send with me another midshipman, a quiet, steady, and gentlemanly lad named Harold Smellie, a year younger than myself, and a boatswain’s mate named Tom Hardy, a very superior and well-educated man for his position, a prime seaman, and thoroughly reliable in every way. These two I put in charge of the watches, and then, having seen that everything was satisfactory on deck and in the look of the weather, I went below and tumbled into my hammock, leaving of course the stereotyped charge to be called in the event of anything “turning up” out of the usual way.
On awaking next morning, I found that the breeze had freshened very considerably during the night, so much so indeed that when I went on deck the “Vigilant” was tearing through it with her lee-rail under, although the lateens were reefed to their utmost capacity. There was a very awkward jump of a sea on already, and it was fast increasing; but the light beamy little craft, although she tossed the spray in blinding showers from her weather-bow right aft and out over her lee quarter, never shipped a drop of green water, and I was highly delighted at her excellent sea-going qualities. I thought, however, that she would take the seas much more easily if she were relieved of the strain and leverage aloft of her long heavy swaying yards; I therefore had the lateens taken in and the lugs substituted for them, and was rewarded for my trouble by finding my anticipations amply realised.
The wind continued to increase all through the morning, and by noon it was blowing quite a fresh gale, with a correspondingly heavy sea.
At five p.m. the lookout reported a sail about two points on our weather-bow.
“What do you make her out to be?” demanded I.
“She looks large enough for a frigate,” replied the man; “but I shall have a better sight of her in a few minutes, sir; she is steering this way.”
“I say, Chester, suppose it’s a frigate from Gibraltar with despatches for the admiral; what will you do?” exclaimed young Smellie, as we stood together by the weather-bulwarks, hanging on to the main-rigging.
“There is only one thing that we can do, and that is, exchange despatches, and each return as quickly as possible to our respective starting-points. It will be a great bore if we are obliged to cut short our cruise; but our despatches are urgent, and our duty plainly is to forward them with all possible speed; and as this vessel, if she prove to be a frigate, will almost certainly be a much faster craft than ourselves, we shall be in duty bound to put our despatch-box on board of her.”
“How will you get them on board?” inquired my companion. “It would be a very ticklish business to launch a boat in this sea.”
“We must get near enough, if possible, to effect the exchange without the aid of a boat,” returned I. “With care on both sides I think it might be safely managed. What does the stranger look like by this time?” I continued to the lookout.
“Seems to me that he has a very Frenchified look about him, sir,” replied he.
“Phew! I hope not,” said I to Smellie. “Lend me your glass a moment, will you? Mine is down below. I think I’ll take a trip aloft and see what I can make out about him.”
I accordingly went aloft to the fore-yard, and sitting astride it, close to the parrals, took as good a look at the fast-approaching craft as the swaying of the yard and the lively motion of the little “Vigilant” would permit.
I remained there for quite ten minutes, and by the end of that time felt perfectly satisfied as to her nationality. She was French, from her truck downwards, without a doubt.
This was an extremely awkward rencontre, and one which I scarcely expected. Indeed, our own frigates were at that time so thoroughly scouring the Mediterranean, particularly that portion of it lying between Gibraltar and Malta, that an enemy’s ship was almost the last object we might expect to see.
“I’m afraid we’re in a mess here,” said I to Smellie, as I joined him aft, by the companion. “That fellow is a Frenchman, and he has the weather-gage, to say nothing of his ability to sail round and round us in this weather, if we took to our heels. Now, the question is, how can we hoodwink him and slip through his fingers?”
“Perhaps we could personate some other craft of about our size and rig,” suggested little Smellie doubtfully.
“Um! possibly. Let’s get the French navy list, and just run through it. If there’s anything at all like ourselves we shall soon find it.”
My companion dived down below, and in less than a minute afterwards returned with the list and the French signal-book.
We turned it over together, and presently came upon a craft named the “Vidette,” which seemed, from her description, to be almost a sister-ship to the “Vigilant.” We accordingly determined to assume her name during the communications which would soon pass between us and the frigate. The French ensign was bent on, and we then turned up the “Vidette’s” number, and bent these flags also on the halliards, after which we could do nothing but wait.
Suddenly a thought struck me. There were several old red nightcaps still on board, which had been found when the vessel fell into our hands. These I at once routed out, and made each man on deck don one instead of his sou’-wester; we were then effectually disguised, as the rest of our clothing was concealed by the oilskins which we were wearing to protect ourselves from the drenching spray.
We had scarcely finished our preparations when Smellie, who was watching the frigate through his telescope, reported that our unwelcome neighbour had hoisted the tricolour, which was of course a polite request that we would show the colour of our bunting.
“Run up the ensign and number,” said I to the men who were stationed at the signal-halliards; and away went the bunting fluttering aloft, the flags all abroad, in the lubberly fashion which prevailed at that time in the French navy.
In a few seconds our signal was read; and, in response, up went the frigate’s number, which little Smellie read out as it was going aloft. “Private signal pennant. Eight, two, seven, four.”
“Run up the answering pennant,” said I to the signal-man, as I turned up the number in the signal-book.
“Le Narcisse” was the name corresponding to this number; and I was about to turn up the navy list, to learn what particulars I could respecting the craft, when my companion exclaimed, “More bunting. White flag with blue cross, diagonal. Three, nine, nought, one.”
We acknowledged the signal, and, on turning it up, found that it was a request to “Round-to under my lee: wish to communicate with you.”
This brought the signalling to a close; and in about a quarter of an hour afterwards, we rounded-to on the frigate’s lee beam, while that craft laid her main-topsail to the mast.
As soon as the two craft were within hailing distance a dapper little figure, dressed in the full uniform of a French naval captain, leaped into the mizzen-rigging with all the activity of a monkey, and, raising his hat slightly in salute (which I of course scrupulously returned), gave a preliminary flourish or two with a speaking-trumpet almost as big as himself, and then, applying it to his lips squeaked out, in French of course, in a shrill falsetto which set all our people on the broad grin,—
“‘Vidette ahoy!’ Are you the guarda-costa of that name?”
“Ay, ay, monsieur,” I briefly replied.
“Oh! very well,” said he. “I am Citizen Alphonse Latour, captain of ‘Le Narcisse’ frigate, in the service of the French Republic. Whither are you bound?”
“We are cruising to the southward and eastward on the lookout for an English fleet which is reported to be somewhere hereabouts,” I replied, with a mischievous desire to see what effect the mention of an English fleet would have upon him.
“An English fleet! Hereabouts!! diable!!!” he exclaimed. “I should like to fall in with them. I hope, however, they will not fall in with my prize. Ah! Good!! Listen, monsieur, I fell in with and captured an English merchantman yesterday, with a valuable cargo on board. You shall oblige me by going on until you fall in with him—he is only about one hundred miles south-east of us—and you shall escort him into Toulon; while as for ‘Le Narcisse’—parbleu, she will remain here in waiting for the accursed English fleet, and fight them all when they shall arrive. Is it not so?”
“Your orders shall have my best attention, monsieur,” I replied; “and I trust you will not have to wait long for the English. I have the honour to wish you a very good day.”
We raised our hats and bowed simultaneously; the little French captain scrambled down out of the rigging; I sprang off the low rail on to the deck; and we filled away upon our course once more, leaving the fire-eating Frenchman with his topsail still to the mast, waiting for “the accursed English.”
Little Smellie and I enjoyed a good laugh over the rencontre, now that it was past and we had escaped undetected; and we united in a cordial hope that the gallant little skipper of “Le Narcisse” would have his wish for a meeting with the English speedily gratified.
He had, as we subsequently found out, but the result could scarcely have been satisfactory to him; for when next I saw Malta “Le Narcisse” was in harbour there, a prize.
At six o’clock next morning we were fortunate enough to fall in with the prize—a barque of about 800 tons, loaded with various products of the East, forming, as Captain Alphonse Latour had truly remarked, a very valuable cargo—she had been steering a course which threw her fairly into our arms, so to speak; and, as the weather had moderated, and the sea gone down a good deal we simply ran her on board, drove the astonished French prize crew below, and took possession.
On instituting a search, we found that the astute skipper of “Le Narcisse” had taken out the entire crew except the second mate and three hands—whom he had left on board to assist in working the ship—so as to prevent all possibility of a rising and a recapture. We transferred the Frenchmen to the “Vigilant;” put eight of our own men on board, in charge of young Smellie; and then made sail in company for Gibraltar. As, however, the “Vigilant” sailed two feet to the barque’s one, we had run her completely out of sight by noon; and we could only hope that she would reach the Rock in safety—which she luckily did, and we of the “Vigilant” ultimately netted a good round sum in the shape of prize-money on her account.
About three p.m. on the same day as that on which we took our prize, we made another sail dead to windward, steering the same way as ourselves, but rather edging down upon us. We must have sighted each other simultaneously; for, while still examining him with my telescope, I saw him bear up upon a course evidently intended to cut us off. The “Vigilant,” however, continued to steer the same course as before; my intention being to try the same trick with him—in the event of his being a Frenchman—which had succeeded so well with “Le Narcisse”; and if he was an Englishman, I had of course nothing to fear.
In about another hour we had neared each other sufficiently to permit of our colours being seen; and no sooner was this the case than the stranger flew her ensign—the English—and fired a gun for us to heave-to. I at once obeyed; and in about twenty minutes afterwards she rounded-to within pistol-shot to windward of us and lowered a boat.
The day being fine I was of course in my ordinary uniform; and I could not wholly conceal a smile at the look of disappointment and disgust which overspread the features of the officer in charge, as the boat approached sufficiently near to permit of his seeing that, whatever the ship might be, the crew were English.
I awaited him at the lee gangway; and on his stepping up out of the boat, raised my hat in due form, a salute which he very gracefully returned.
“Well, young gentleman,” said he, “what craft have you here, pray, and where are you bound to?”
I told him briefly what we were, and so on; and in reply to his questions, gave him a short account of the way in which the “Vigilant” had come into our hands, at which he seemed much interested.
“Well,” said he, when I had finished the story, “I must say I am sorry you are not French; for we should then have had an opportunity of making a prize of some sort, even though you would have been but very small fry; but anything will be fish which comes to our net now. We have been knocking about here for nearly a month, and never a sign of a Frenchman have we seen during the whole time.”
“Indeed!” said I, “you have been unlucky; but I hope your luck has now changed at last. Though you cannot make a prize of us, I think I can put you on the track of one.”
“Ah! do you indeed? Come, that’s a great deal better,” said he, in a very different tone from that which had characterised his conversation hitherto. “My dear boy, pray let us have your news without further ado.”
I accordingly described to him our meeting with “Le Narcisse,” and mentioned Captain Alphonse Latour’s enthusiastic and patriotic determination to await on that spot the approach of the “accursed English;” concluding my story by giving the exact latitude and longitude of the place where our meeting with “Le Narcisse” took place.
When I had given him all particulars he rose to take his leave.
“Good-bye,” said he, “and accept, through me, the thanks of Captain Lacey, the officers, and the whole ship’s company of the ‘Diamond’ for the very valuable information you have afforded us. I only hope Monsieur Latour was sincere in his resolve; we will not keep him waiting very long. A pleasant passage to you and I hope your prize will get safely in. Lucky young dog, you are, and no mistake.”
“Good-bye,” I returned. “I wish you a speedy and pleasant meeting with Monsieur Latour.”
And with another shake of the hand we parted. Poor fellow! he little knew what lay before him. The “Diamond” actually found “Le Narcisse” cruising about the spot I had indicated, and one of the shot of the Frenchman’s first broadside took his head off.
Four days afterwards we anchored at Gibraltar just in time to hear the evening gun, having been favoured, during the entire passage, with a wind which permitted us to lay our course with every thread of canvas drawing to its utmost.