“But where are we, man; where are we?” demanded the Captain, with more than a trace of anxiety and impatience in the tones of his voice.
“Ah, sir, I could tell you better if it would only clear enough to let us see some of the details of the coast more distinctly,” answered the master, in tones of anxiety equal to the Captain’s own. “But,” he continued, “although I cannot say, to within a few miles, precisely where we are, I have not the slightest doubt that we are somewhere within the limits of Audierne Bay.”
“Audierne Bay! and the wind blowing half a gale from the sou’-west!” ejaculated the skipper, with a note of something approaching to dismay.
“Yes, sir, Audierne Bay,” repeated the master. “It is only there that we could possibly have come within sight of the land at this hour of the day. Perhaps you would like me to bring up the chart, Captain Vavassour.”
“Yes; pray do so,” answered the skipper.
The master had scarcely disappeared down the hatchway, on his way to his cabin, when the French ship—which, having made an ineffectual effort to round-to, had fallen off again and had continued to run dead to leeward—suddenly broached-to; a terrific sea struck her on her port quarter, turning her broadside-on to us, and her foremast went over the side. Instantly a dozen voices shouted excitedly—“The Frenchman is ashore, sir!”
Yes, there was no doubt about it; for now every sea as it rolled in made a clean breach over her, and we could see her lift to it, rolling over at every blow almost to her beam-ends.
“Ay,” muttered the skipper—I was close at his elbow, having followed him that I might be at hand if required—“ay, she is ashore, fast enough, and she will never come off again, for an hour of such pounding as she is now getting will make an end of her. We shall be very lucky indeed if we do not follow. Hillo! Mr Delamere, is that you? Just find Mr Howard, and say I shall be obliged if he can come to me on the quarter-deck.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered, touching my hat as I started down the poop-ladder. I guessed that I should find the first lieutenant on the gun deck, and there he was, superintending the securing of the guns—a task which needed to be done very carefully and thoroughly; for now that the ship had been brought to the wind she was rolling and pitching most furiously, and if one of our long 24-pounders should chance to strike adrift, the consequences might very easily be disastrous. I delivered the Captain’s message, and then followed the first lieutenant on deck, where he joined the skipper and the master, who were already standing at the capstan, with the chart spread open before them on its head. I had no good and sufficient excuse for lingering near them, and therefore passed over to the lee-side of the deck, as became a well-trained midshipman; consequently I only caught a word here and there as I staggered fore and aft in the lee scuppers. I heard the Captain say something about “Audierne Bay,” and then, a little later, the master said something about “land takes a westerly trend—Penmarks;” and, finally, the Captain, as though closing a discussion, said, “Very well, then, we will try her, while there is still room, and the sooner the better. Get the mainsail on her again at once, Mr Howard.”
I surmised, from this last remark on the part of the Captain, that we were about to make an attempt to tack ship; and indeed it was full time for something to be done, for the breakers were now distinctly visible for a space of about two miles on the lee beam, and they seemed to be rather trending out athwart our bows. It would, therefore, soon be necessary to get the ship round on the other tack, either by staying or wearing, so it would be wise to make the attempt while there was still room to resort to the second expedient, should the first fail.