It must have been a magnificent and awe-inspiring sight to witness these destructive operations, effected as they were during the darkness of the night. The conflagration of the stores, warehouses, and ships, the explosion of powder magazines and powder vessels - the latter being set on fire by our lubberly allies, the Spaniards, instead of being scuttled, as had been arranged—and the incessant flash of the cannon and musketry—a hot conflict raging all the while between the British and the Republican forces—could not fail of being an awfully impressive sight; and such it had evidently proved to our informants, who described the various scenes which they had witnessed on that memorable night with a very considerable amount of graphic power.
So interested were we all, for the moment, in this narration, that every one appeared to have completely forgotten our excessively unpleasant position, until it was recalled to our minds by an exclamation from our third lieutenant, the Honourable Edward Plantagenet Mortimer.
“Aw—excuse my intewupting this extwemely intewesting er—ah—conversation,” said he, in his usual dandified style, “but I should like to diwect your attention, Captain Hood, to the—ah—important fact that—ah—the wind has changed, and, if I may be allowed to expwess an opinion, I would say that if we could get the canvas upon the ship, I believe we could fetch out of the harbour again.”
The effect was electrical. The remark suggested such readiness of resource, such consummate seamanship, and such dashing courage on the part of the speaker, that, had it been uttered by Mr Annesley even, we should probably have been somewhat surprised; but emanating from the source it did, our astonishment simply beggars description. There was a dead silence for a moment, while we were ruminating upon and digesting the possibilities involved in the suggestion, and then, as it became apparent that a bold dash for freedom was still in our power, a ringing cheer burst out, fore and aft.
In an instant the skipper was himself again. “Silence, fore and aft!” he exclaimed; “every sound you utter now may cost a man’s life. To your stations, men, and let every order be executed with the rapidity and—ah—silence of thought. Mr Annesley, make sail, if you please. Gentlemen,”—to the Frenchmen—“you will wegwet to learn that you have made a slight—ah—mistake. Instead of our being your prisoners, you are ours. And—er—as your countwymen, with their chawactewistic politeness, may possibly salute us as we pass the battewies, and as they may, in their anxiety to do so, omit to dwaw the shot from their guns, allow me to suggest that you wetire below. Mr Carnegie—our lieutenant of mawines—has, I see, been thoughtful enough to pwovide an escort for you, and in his hands I have much pleasure in leaving you; you will find him a twuly delightful companion. Good evening, gentlemen, for the present.”
At first the Frenchmen appeared unable to believe their own ears. Then, as they began to realise that we were actually about to attempt our escape, they rapidly threw themselves together, back to back, and began to handle their sabres menacingly. Carnegie, however, who upon hearing the Honourable Mortimer’s remark had grasped the situation in an instant, had at once slipped off, returning in a very few minutes with some five-and-twenty fully-armed marines, and with these he promptly surrounded the chagrined Frenchmen, who found the way in which the “jollies” handled their half-pikes so little to their taste that they at length came to the conclusion that discretion was, in their case, the better part of valour, and sullenly suffered themselves to be conducted below.
In the meantime our lads had been anything but idle. With the activity of so many cats they had scuttled away aloft, laying out upon the yards, and casting off the gaskets in a style which must have done Mr Annesley’s heart good, and which, to a moral certainty, considerably astonished the Frenchmen on board the surrounding ships and in the batteries. There was no confusion whatever; everything was done with as much method and precision as if we had been merely exercising the crew; but, on the other hand, not one second of precious time was wasted, and it really was a pretty sight to see all the canvas falling simultaneously from the yards, the topsail sheets instantly going home into their places, and the three topsail-yards directly afterwards soaring away up to the mast-heads. Then home came the topgallant sheets, and up went the yards, the royals following, and being set literally before the topgallant halliards were belayed. The fore-and-aft canvas was at the same time set, and the moment that the royals were at the mast-heads the yards were braced for casting the ship. The carpenter and one of his mates were stationed at the hawse-pipe, armed with their keenest axes, and stood ready to strike directly the word was given. In three minutes from the time that the order had been given to make sail, Mr Annesley turned to the skipper and said, with the utmost composure, “All ready, sir.”
“Where is Mr Percival?” inquired Captain Hood.
“Here, sir!” replied Percival, stepping forward and touching his cap.
“Take charge, sir, if you please,” said the skipper. “And do not forget that the safety of the frigate, and our chances of escape from a long captivity are absolutely in your hands. If we touch the ground and hang for five minutes, we shall be simply blown out of the water.”