"Bear a hand, men!" cried Ross, as he sprung upon deck. "Man the tacklefalls! clear the boat! and give them a run for it at least."
Roused by his voice, every nerve was strained, the boat lowered, and we in her, ready to push off, when the captain called over the side—
"My lads, do as you think for the best; but it is of no use to try. The frigate's boat will be under our stern ere you can gain way."
I stood in the act of pushing off, when the object we were going to strain every nerve to avoid swept round the stern, and grappled us. We hopelessly threw our oars upon the thwarts, and prepared to reascend the vessel, to settle with the captain and bring away our chests. As for myself, I had no call to leave the boat. All I possessed in the world was upon my person, and half-a-guinea given me by the captain to carry me home. The other three were getting their bags and chests ready to lower into the boat, having got their wages from the captain, when he called me to come on deck. I obeyed; when he said to the midshipman in command of the boat—
"Sir, to prevent any unpleasant consequences arising to this poor fellow, Elder, here, I shall let you know how he came on board of us. He belonged to the Latona, and is no deserter, I assure you. Ross, bring here our log-book, and satisfy the gentleman if he wishes." Ross obeyed; and having examined it, the captain told the wretched state in which I had been picked up, and the way in which I had accounted to him for the accident. During the recital, he looked hard at me, no muscle of his face indicating either pity or surprise. When the captain ceased to speak, he only said—
"Well, my lad, you have for once had a narrow escape—you must hold better on in future. I shall report to the captain, and get the D from before your name. Tumble into the boat, my lads. Good day, captain." And, in a few minutes afterwards, I was on board the Edgar, seventy-four, and standing westwards for the Firth of Forth.
It was strange the change that came over the impressed men, when there was no longer any hope of escape. Like true seamen, they bent to the circumstance they could not remedy, and were, as soon as they got on board, as much at home, and more cheerful, than they had been for many days before. As for myself, I took it much to heart, and was very melancholy when we entered the Firth and stood up to the roadstead. I could hardly restrain my feelings when the city of Edinburgh came in sight, and when I thought of the short distance in miles that divided me from my parents and home—that home I had left so foolishly in the hopes of being back at the conclusion of the war, which I now found was raging more furiously, if possible, than when I left, and with much less prospect of its termination. I would stand for hours gazing upon the White Craig, the eastern extremity of the Pentland Hills, and wish I was upon it, until my eyes were suffused with tears. I begged hard for the first lieutenant to give me leave to go on shore, if only for eight-and-forty hours, to visit my parents; but he refused my request, fearful of my not returning. Several of the hands on board, natives of Edinburgh, who had been long in the Edgar, obtained leave. With one of them I sent a letter to my father, who came the following day. It was a meeting of sorrow, not unmixed with upbraidings, on his part, for what I had done; but we parted with regret—he to do what he could to obtain my discharge, I under promise not to act so precipitately in future, if I was once more a free agent. What steps were taken I know not, for next morning we received orders to sail for the Nore. We had many faces on board that looked as long as my own, for there were still several who had obtained promise of leave whose turn had not come round. Wallace, one of the mess I was in, had not been in his native city for ten years, having been all that time voluntarily on board of men-of-war, either at home or on foreign stations. He was to have had two days' leave the very morning we sailed, and had doomed ten gold guineas, which he had long kept for such purpose, to be expended in a blow-out in Edinburgh, among his relations and friends. When the boatswain piped to weigh anchor, Wallace, who was captain of the foretop, ran to his berth, opened his chest, took out his long-hoarded store, and came on deck with it in his hand. His looks bespoke rage and disappointment, bordering upon insanity. He gazed upon the distant city that shone upon the gently swelling hills glancing back the sun's rays, then at the purse of gold in his hand. He seemed incapable of speech. A bitter smile curled his lip, bespeaking the most intense scorn. I looked on, wondering what he meant to do. It was but the scene of a minute. Suddenly raising his hand, he threw the purse and gold over the side with all his force, exclaiming:—"Go, vile trash! what use have I for you now? The first action may lay me low!" Then, as if relieved from some oppressive load, he mounted the rattlings to his duty with a smile of satisfaction; and we bore away for the Nore, where I was draughted on board the Repulse, sixty-four, and departed upon a cruise along the coast of Brittany; at times lying off Brest harbour, and at others, standing along the coast in search of the enemy. Employed in this monotonous duty, month followed month, and year after year passed away.
It was now the year 1799. The century was drawing to a close; but the interminable war seemed only commencing. I had become almost callous to my fate. We were standing along, under a steady breeze, as close in shore as we could with safety to the vessel. It was the dog-watch; and I had only been a short time turned in when our good ship struck upon some sunken rocks with such force that I thought she had gone to pieces. Every one in a moment turned out. The night was as dark as pitch, and the sea breaking over us, while we lay hard and fast. Everything was done to lighten her in vain. She was making water very fast, in spite of all our exertions at the pumps. Still there was not the smallest confusion on board. Our discipline was as strict, and our officers as promptly obeyed, as they were before our accident. As the tide rose, the wind shifted, and blew a gale right upon the shore, causing the ship to beat violently. Day at length dawned, and there, not one hundred fathoms from our deck, lay a rocky and desolate-looking shore. We had been forced over a reef of sunken rocks that were not in our charts; and, during the darkness, as was supposed, had been carried in-shore by some current; but, however it had happened, there we were, in a serious scrape, the sea breaking over our decks, and our hold full of water.
Soon after daybreak we could perceive the peasantry crowding down to the water's edge. Everything had been done that skill and resolution could accomplish, to save the vessel, but in vain. We had nothing before our eyes but instant death. The sea ran so high that no boat could live for a moment in the broken water between us and the shore. The French peasantry were making no effort for our safety, but running about and looking on our deplorable situation, with apparently no other feeling than that of curiosity. At this time, James Paterson, an Edinburgh lad, volunteered to make the attempt to swim to the shore with a log-line, and fearlessly let himself over the side. It was, to all appearance, a hopeless attempt; for every one felt assured that he would be beat to death against the rocks that lined the beach, on which the waves were beating with great fury.
It was a period of fearful suspense; yet, dreadful as our situation was, there was not the least unnecessary noise on board. All was prompt attention and obedience. The weather was extremely cold, and the sea, at times, making a complete breach over the ship, which we expected every moment to go to pieces. As for myself, I meant to stow below and perish with her, rather than to float about, bruised and maimed, and drown at last. One half of the crew were only dressed in their shirts and trousers, without shoes or stockings, as they had leaped from their hammocks. When she struck, we had no leisure to put on more than our trousers. Thus we stood, holding on by the nettings, or anything we could lay hold of, to prevent our being washed off the decks, with our eyes anxiously watching the progress of the brave Paterson, who swam like an otter, the boatswain and his mates serving out the line to him. We saw him near the rocks, and the people making signs to him. This was the point of greatest danger, but, by the aid of the peasants, he surmounted it.