I was scarcely inclined to acquiesce in his remark. I wanted to make another effort to save the ship, and regretted that I had not remained on board all night. Just then she made two or three rolls heavier than usual—a sea appeared suddenly to lift up her stern—she made a plunge forward. I watched, expecting her to rise again—but no. It was her last plunge. Like the huge monster from which she took her name, she dived down beneath the waves; the waters washed over her decks; gradually her masts sank till the pennant alone was to be seen streaming upwards for an instant, till that also was drawn down to the depths of the ocean. I could not help uttering a groan of grief, not for the wealth which I thus saw engulfed beneath the waves, but for the destruction of all the hopes I had been so fondly cherishing.
The signal was now made for the convoy to continue on their course. The bad weather which had been brewing now coming on, ship after ship parted company from us, and at length, after a passage of six weeks, we reached the Downs on the 21st of March without a single one of the convoy with us. I had been absent from home just five years and a half. I had left it a boy—if not in age, in habits and feelings; I had come back an officer—bearing his Majesty’s commission as lieutenant, with ideas expanded and feelings wonderfully changed. Without any difficulty, the moment I applied for leave Captain Luttrell granted it, and, taking Tom Rockets with me, I set off immediately for London on my way to Falmouth.
Chapter Twenty.
Adventures on the road.—Welcomed at home.—Confess my love for the little Rebel.—Tom’s grief for his mother’s death.—Hear of Captain Cook’s death.—Visit to London.—The Gordon riots.—Encounter with the mob.—Save an old gentleman in his carriage.—Give him my name.—Wonder who he can be.—Join the Charon, Captain Thomas Symonds.—Sail for West Indies.
Seldom, I suspect, have two rough-looking subjects made their appearance at an inn in the great City of London than Tom Rockets and I must have seemed when we arrived there by the Deal heavy coach on the evening of the 22nd of March, 1780. Our faces were of the colour of dark copper, and our beards were as rough and thick as holly bushes, while Tom sported a pig-tail and love-locks, which he flattered himself would prove the admiration of all the belles in his native village. They, at all events, drew forth not a few remarks from the little errand-boys in the streets of London, as we heard such remarks as, “There go two sea monsters!” “Where can those niggers have come from?” “Look there, at that sailor man with a bit of a cable fastened on to his pole!” More than once Tom turned to try and catch hold one of the little jackanapes, but he was off so fast down some lane or other that even Tom could not overtake him. I advised him to give up the attempt, and to take their impertinence coolly. I kept Tom by me wherever I went, for I felt pretty certain that, should I once lose sight of him, he might never find his way back to me.
I cannot stop to describe all the sights we saw, and the places we visited in the mighty metropolis. The town was talking a great deal of a duel which had taken place the very morning of our arrival in Hyde Park between Lord Shelbourne and Colonel Fullerton. The quarrel was about some reflection which the latter gentleman had cast upon his lordship. On the second shot the colonel hit Lord Shelbourne, who fell to the ground, but the wound was not considered dangerous. I bethought me of the duel I had fought when I was a boy, and that these two great people were very little wiser than I was then.
As soon as we could get places in the old coach we started for Falmouth, intending to visit the remainder of the sights on our way back to the ship. Away we rumbled, one fine morning, on board the big coach, as Tom called it, with a guard behind well armed with a huge blunderbuss and a brace of horse pistols. We stopped to change horses at an inn about thirty miles from London. A long line of horses, with packs on their backs, were collected in front of the stables to be watered. Twenty men or so were lounging about, apparently belonging to them. Presently there was a cry of, “The Custom-house officers! the Custom-house officers!” The men ran up from all directions, unloosed the halters, leaped on the backs of some saddle-horses standing ready, and the whole party began to move along the road. They had not gone many yards when another party of horsemen were seen galloping up from the direction in which they were going. The smugglers—for such the guard told us they were—turned round and dashed by us, but they were again met by another party of Custom-house officers. Swords were drawn, pistols were fired, the bullets came flying about the coach, greatly to the alarm of some of the passengers, who cried out and begged the combatants to desist. Our horses kicked and plunged, and nearly upset the coach. Tom and I could not help wishing to join the skirmish, and had jumped off for the purpose, though I had scarcely made up my mind with which party to side, when some of the smugglers threw down their arms and cried peccavi, while the rest tried to escape across the country over the hedges and ditches. Some were caught, but several effected their escape. I was well satisfied, when I had time to reflect on the matter, that I had not had time to mix in the affray. Altogether, thirty horses were captured, as were several of the smugglers, some of whom were wounded, as were five or six of the horses. We were, when passing through Devonshire, attacked by a party of highwaymen, but they, finding several armed men on the top of the coach who did not look as if we would stand any nonsense, thought it was wiser not to make any further attempt at robbing us. These trifling circumstances were the only events which occurred to us worthy of notice till we reached Falmouth. Tom accompanied me to my father’s house, for I wanted to show him to them all, and also to ascertain whether his mother was living before I let him go home. We had been so long without hearing that I could not tell what might have occurred during our absence; my knees positively trembled as I approached the dear old red-brick house, and I felt as if I could scarcely walk up the flight of stone steps in front of it. The door was open. A little child was playing on the steps, and when he saw us he ran into the house, crying out—
“Oh, Grannie, Grannie! dear me, dear me! there are two big ugly blackamoors a-coming!”