“Mr Delamere,” said Captain Vavassour, “take a dozen men, and Mr Gascoigne, and secure possession of that brigantine, if you please. Stay a moment,”—as, touching my hat, I was about to dive below for my chest—“you had better have with you Simmons and Henderson, as two out of your dozen, to take charge of the watches, and take also two extra hands to bring back the boat. I will remain hove-to until you have secured your prisoners below—I have not time to tranship them now; and when you have done that you will be pleased to bear up and join the convoy. Now, be as quick as you can, young gentleman, for I am anxious to be off after that merchantman yonder.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered, touching my hat and turning away to secure my crew. I first found Simmons, the carpenter’s mate, and Henderson, a quartermaster, and informing them of the Captain’s arrangement, desired them to pick out the best ten men they could lay hands upon, arm them, and get them into the cutter with their bags and hammocks, and then make their own preparations,—by which time Gascoigne and I would be ready,—then I bundled below, found Gascoigne, and set to work to get my own chest and bedding ready.
Ten minutes later the boat was lowered and at the lee gangway; and in another ten minutes we were aboard the prize.
We were received at the brigantine’s gangway by a most ruffianly-looking individual, with his left arm in a sling, and his otherwise bare head bound up in bandages through which the blood was even then oozing. As he proffered his sheathed sword he introduced himself as Monsieur Jules Despard, chief mate of the French privateer brigantine Audacieuse, of Dunquerque, mounting sixteen long 18-pounders, and a long 32-pounder on her forecastle, and originally carrying a crew of one hundred and fifty-six men, of whom twenty-five were away in the Indiaman that had vanished in the southern board, while twelve more were aboard one of the vessels of which the gun-brigs were in chase. “Of the remainder, monsieur,” he said, “there are but fourteen, beside myself, who are fit for duty. The others, including Captain Le Mesurier, have either been killed outright or severely wounded in the murder-trap which that dastardly transport of yours set for us. It was a base, cowardly act of theirs to permit us to approach them within biscuit-toss, and then shoot us down like—”
“Do you think it was more cowardly than for so heavily armed and manned a vessel as this to range up alongside of and attack a perfectly defenceless craft like the Indiaman which you surprised in the darkness, monsieur?” demanded I. “But,” I continued, “I have no time to argue the point just now. Henderson,”—to the quartermaster—“just jump below and see if you can find a spot where the prisoners may be safely confined.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Henderson, touching his hat, as he turned away to inspect the forecastle. Our friend, Monsieur Jules Despard, appeared to understand English quite well, for as soon as Henderson had vanished he said:
“I presume, monsieur, you have full authority from your captain to accept the parole of such of us as are willing to give it? For myself, I—”
“No, monsieur,” I answered, “I have received no such authority; on the contrary, my orders are to confine you all below, for the present at all events and until an opportunity shall occur to transfer you to the frigate.”
“But, monsieur, that order surely does not apply to the officers of the ship, as well as the men?” remonstrated the Frenchman. “It is usual to make a distinction—”
“Pardon me, monsieur,” I interrupted, “but you do not appear to understand. Is this ship a man-o’-war, or is she merely a privateer? Do you or do you not hold a commission?”