I answered that that was precisely how the matter appeared to me.
“Very well,” he said. “Then as soon as the carpenter has finished here he must go aboard the prize, taking with him as many men as Mr Howard can spare. You shall go with him, remaining aboard the Gelderland until the able-bodied portion of her crew can be transferred to this ship, when you will undertake that piece of work, using, if need be, to facilitate the operation, such of the prize’s boats as will float. You had better find Mr Howard and acquaint him with this arrangement, and then tell the carpenter what I want him to do. It appears to me that Mr Lucas is now almost, if not quite, ready to turn over to the prize. If so, you had better take him across.”
Away I trotted, and presently found the first lieutenant on the forecastle, supervising the labours of the boatswain and the carpenter, the latter of whom was just putting the finishing touches to his part of the work. I delivered both my messages, picked out fifteen more men to go aboard the prize,—that being all that Mr Howard could spare,—hustled them, with the carpenter and his crew, down the side, and presently found myself again aboard the prize.
Here, short as had been the duration of my absence, I found a great improvement in the appearance of things. Mr Percival and his gang had been working like demons, and had made great advances toward a general clearance of the wreckage—so much so, indeed, that he was quite ready for the Carpenter to start work at once; while, as for the Dutch crew, they had completed their task of carrying below their killed and wounded, and were busily engaged in washing down the main-deck and otherwise obliterating, as far as might be, the evidences of the recent battle. I allowed them to finish this job—although I knew the skipper to be very anxious to be off in chase of the two Indiamen—for I had noticed, while crossing over to the prize on the last occasion, that the wind had fined away to a mere zephyr, and that the Indiamen were still hull-up; while there was every appearance of the weather falling stark calm within the next hour or two. I, therefore, told myself that, taking everything into consideration, there was really no great need for hurry. But I had not to wait very long, for within half-an-hour the Dutchmen had done all that was possible for them to do; and by noon I had completed my somewhat disagreeable task of transferring all the prisoners to the Europa, taking with me, on my last trip, the Dutch surgeon’s report upon the losses incurred by the Gelderland during the action. These, as anticipated by Van Halst, were exceedingly heavy, the killed numbering thirty-two, while the wounded totalled no less than one hundred and thirty-one, of whom at least ten were so desperately hurt that there was little hope of their outlasting the night.
By the time that all this was done, Mr Howard had got our new fore-topmast on end and rigged, the topsail-yard aloft and secured, and the topsail, fore-topmast staysail, and jib set, when we at once filled on the ship and hauled our wind in pursuit of the Indiamen, Mr Percival having received orders to follow us as soon as he could make sail. Then we piped to dinner, all hands having spent a most strenuously busy morning.
At four bells in the afternoon watch the wind had fined down to such an extent that the frigate was making no more than a bare four knots through the water, although we had by this time got up the fore-topgallant and royal-masts again and were once more under all plain sail; while, as for the two Indiamen, built as cargo-carriers rather than for speed, they appeared to scarcely have steerage-way, and seemed to maintain their luff only with the utmost difficulty—indeed, there were times when they fell so broad off as to present their full broadsides to us. But although their capture might now be regarded as practically certain, they were evidently not disposed to yield without making some sort of a struggle for liberty, for they were on opposite tacks, one of them having gone about; the idea, of course, being to separate and widen their distance as much as possible in the hope that by so doing one of them at least might escape, even if the other were captured. Captain Vavassour, however, did not allow these tactics to disconcert him in the least; he fixed upon one of them as the object of his pursuit—altogether disregarding the movements of the other, meanwhile—and devoted all his efforts to close with her, with the result that by two bells in the first dog-watch we were within gunshot of our quarry, when a shot was pitched across his forefoot as a gentle hint to him to heave-to. But he declined to take the hint, and it was not until we sent a shot whistling between his masts that the sturdy old Mynheer could be convinced of the impossibility of escape, when he hoisted his colours to the peak only to instantly haul them down again and back his mainyard in token of surrender.
“Mr Delamere,” said the Captain, “I shall be obliged to send you to take possession of that ship. Take the cutter, therefore, with a dozen men—armed, of course—and proceed on board at once. You may take Mr Millet (another midshipman) with you, who, with a couple of hands, can bring back the boat and any message which you may find it necessary to send. You will have to depend upon the Dutch crew, principally, to work the ship for you until I can make further arrangements. As soon as you have shoved off I shall proceed in pursuit of the other ship, and you had better follow me, so long as there is wind enough for you to do so; and you must use your own judgment as to the most opportune moment for sending away Mr Millet and the boat.”
A quarter of an hour later, followed by Jack Millet and my crew of twelve, I clambered in over the bulwarks of the motherly old craft that we had brought-to, and formally took possession of the Haarlem, Dutch East Indiaman, of 965 tons, homeward-bound from Batavia, full to the hatches with a rich cargo of Eastern produce, and a cuddy-full of passengers who seemed to take their capture very philosophically, especially when I explained to them that they might rely upon being left in undisturbed possession of all their strictly personal effects. With the skipper, however,—a most dignified old fellow, white-haired, and bronzed by nearly half a century of the sea life,—it was different. It appeared that he was part-owner of the ship, having sunk the entire savings of a lifetime in the purchase of fifty shares and a quantity of the cargo in her hold; and although he did his utmost to face his misfortune as a brave man should, the tears started to his eyes as he explained to me that the capture of the ship would leave him and his frau absolutely penniless in their old age. I endeavoured to soften the blow to him as much as possible by sympathetically murmuring some idiotic platitude about “the fortune of war,” but of course it was no good; the poor old fellow simply shook his head and ejaculated—“Ay—the fortune of war! It is all very well for you, young sir, who depend upon war to provide you with a career, to talk like that; but think of the thousands who are ruined and whose hearts are left desolate by war; think of the parents who have to mourn the loss of sons cut down by war in the very flower of their manhood, and all because our rulers cannot agree! I tell you, sir, that if all men were what they should be—honourable, honest, upright, and faithful followers of Christ—there need be no war.”
To which I replied that doubtless this was true; but that if we should be compelled to wait for the abolition of war until mankind became perfect, I had a conviction that neither he nor I would live to see it.