“What,” he remarked, “was swimming the Sedana to this? Everybody knew that a river had a bank; but here, the first land we would touch on might be Achil Head or Gibraltar—and he, Mark Antony, would be glad to know what was provided in the eating-and-drinking line for this voyage of discovery?”
But these speculations as to our final destination were speedily interrupted, for William Rawlings’ practised eye had caught the dim outline of two or three small craft riding at anchor. Silence was rigidly enjoined, and the Englishman steered the skiff upon the centre chasse-marée, and desired us, in a whisper, to board the moment the boat’s gunnel scraped the vessel’s side.
It was quite evident that we were not to be so fortunate as to effect a capture by surprise. The heavy firing of the cannonade and musquetry, attendant on the sortie, had roused the crews, whom we heard distinctly conversing from deck to deck, as our boat neared their anchorage. Fortunately, from the extreme darkness, and the diminutive dimensions of the skiff, we were within an oar’s length of the chasse-marées before we were discovered. To a hasty challenge, a contrabandista replied that we were friends—an assertion on his part, which subsequent experience proved much at variance with our proceedings.
The lowness of her deck allowed us to board the coaster without trouble, and a short, scuffling fight ensued which was over in a minute. Although more numerous by half, the surprise of this nightly visitation distracted the Frenchmen, and they made but a feeble stand. One was flung overboard by a smuggler, an example promptly imitated by the fosterer, who took the same liberty with the person of the skipper—while three or four took the water of their own accord. Rawlings cut the cable—the jib was instantly run up—the vessel canted with her head to sea—the fore lug was set next minute—and, before, the astonished crews could persuade themselves that their consort was regularly carried off, we were beyond the reach of the few muskets which they managed to get hold of in the confusion.
A brief consultation followed our success; and it was agreed that we should stand right out to sea, to avoid meeting with any of the French privateers who were creeping along the coast occasionally, and also afford us a fair chance of falling in with one of our own cruisers.
When morning broke, we had gained an offing of nearly twenty miles. The fire of the Chofre batteries had recommenced with daylight; but a smoke-wreath, now and then, from the Castle and island of Santa Clara, with a grumbling sound, like that of distant thunder, and only when a squall came off the land, were all that told us that, with the sun’s appearance, the deadly struggle had commenced anew. Other cares were now presented. Had the chasse marée aught on board that a prudent soldier like Major Dalgetty, would declare by every war regulation absolutely necessary? The inquiry produced a painful disclosure. On board this ark of liberty, there were salt fish and fresh water for a day’s consumption! I thought Mark Antony would have fainted when the heavy tidings were gently broke by the chief contrabandista, who should, per agreement, have been ship-agent and commissary together. The truth was, my poor mother having been inhibited from imposing penance and fast on me in right of certain marital engagements, had laid upon the unhappy fosterer an additional quantity of both—and if there were two things on earth to which Mark Antony had an invincible antipathy, cold water was the one, and salt cod-fish was the other.
“Oh! we’re regularly murdered now;” ejaculated my foster brother. “Blessed Virgin! What the divil do ye call that dark gentleman who got the fifty-pound note? I would just like to ask him a civil question, if he intends sleeping quietly in his bed after nearly drowning us first, and starving us, as it appears he intends to do, afterwards. If we ever reach Ireland, by my oath, I’ll take an action against him, and”—
“Hist! You’ll have no occasion,” if my sight be accurate replied the sailor. “The cloud is over her again. Keep the craft away—and ease the sheets a trifle. Right—by everything that’s lucky!—a man-o-war brig! No mistake about that; a man can read it in the cut of her topsails.”
The vessel which Rawlings had espied, in a short time was clearly visible. Under single-reefed topsails, jib, and spanker, she was close-hauled as her course required, while we flew down direct before the breeze. Santa Clara disappeared, “the wide, wide sea” was round us, the cruiser and ourselves the only occupants of ocean—and in an hour, we were safely deposited on board Her Majesty’s eighteen-gun brig, “the Growler.” The chasse-marée was turned adrift as worthless—and a promise made on the part of Captain Hardweather, that we should be accommodated with a passage home—the Growler being on her return to England—while our companions, captive, and contrabandista, Tyrian and Trojan, should be put on board the first coaster we fell in with—none of the parties having the slightest inclination to visit the island home of liberty, and take up their abode in a prison-ship.
Had Cupid exchanged with Rolus “for the nonce,” he could not have afforded to his votaries more favourable winds. The Growler liked a stiff breeze, and during the run home she had no reason to complain. The fourth evening we were reported to be in the chops of the channel, and on the sixth, were snug at anchor in Spithead. No difficulty was occasioned in the debarcation of our personal effects; and, if all military adventurers returned in the same condition from the field of glory, I suspect the trade of war would not be considered as affording a safe investment for the capital of a younger son. During the passage home, a change of linen was effected by a friendly loan, and every outward habiliment, from shoe to schako, when we landed, was borrowed property. By the kindness of the brig’s commander, I was introduced to a banker, through whose agency I raised the necessary supplies; and one brief day wrought on all a marvellous change for the better. The second evening, on looking in the pier glass of the hotel, I had some doubts touching my own identity—Mark Antony was of opinion that he should be scarcely recognized by his own dog—and William Rawlings had actually set two barmaids by the ears, and left an impression on the too tender hearts of both, which required a full fortnight to obliterate.