“This is sad work, Mr Hurry,” said Captain Hudson, as I went to report myself on the quarter-deck. I told him how it happened.
“We must send in again, though, and punish the rascals,” said he.
Notice was forthwith given that another attempt was to be made to get off the brig. Plenty of volunteers came forward; indeed, they are never wanting when any hazardous work is in hand. The way we had been treated had excited great indignation against the enemy among our people. Job Samson, our old boatswain, volunteered to head the expedition. He had an idea that what others failed to do he could always find out some mode of accomplishing, and, to do him justice, he was ever ready to attempt to carry out his plans in spite of every risk, though he did not invariably succeed. He soon had his expedition ready. We heartily wished him success as he pulled in towards the shore. The Amazon had in the meantime come up, and as she was in-shore of us and drew less water, she was ordered to stand in and cover the attack. We eagerly, with our glasses, watched the proceedings. We could see the enemy, in great numbers, mustering on shore. Probably they did not expect that the Amazon’s guns were going to take part in the fray. She stood in as close as she could venture, and then opened her fire: but the enemy, nothing daunted, returned it manfully from an earth battery, which had been thrown up near the brig. In the meantime, in the face of this fire, old Samson advanced boldly to the attack; but round-shot and musket-balls are stubborn things to contend against, and the boatswain seeing, however easy it might be theoretically to capture the brig, that practically, if he attempted it, he should lose the boat with himself and every man in her, very wisely resolved to return on board, and wait for another opportunity of signalising himself. We afterwards found that, in this instance, the grapes really were sour, as the sloop and schooner had taken in the most valuable part of the brig’s cargo, and that she had remaining on board only ninety tons of salt. We made several attempts during the afternoon to cut out these vessels, but so well guarded were they from the shore by riflemen and flying artillery, that after all our exertions we were compelled to abandon the attempt. Happily, however, no one was hit except those who had been wounded in my boat. In the evening, before turning in, I went round to see how the poor fellows were getting on. They all received me cheerfully.
“We’re better off, sir, than if we had been boxed up in a Yankee prison, even though as how we’ve got some eyelet holes through us, d’ye see?” said Bob Nodder, who was the most severely wounded of any of the party. He observed that I was grieved to see the sufferings they were enduring.
“It could not be helped, Mr Hurry. You did your best for us, and if you had not kept cool, sir, we might every one of us have been riddled with rifle-bullets.”
I felt still greater pain when I went to the side of little Harry Sumner’s cot. He was in the officers’ sick-bay, and the doctor had done his best to make him comfortable. He was slumbering, so I did not speak. I stood for some minutes watching his youthful countenance. It was almost feminine in its beauty—so clear, so fair, so free from the effects of the evil passions which distort and disfigure so often the features of those of older years. His long light-brown hair had fallen off his clear broad forehead, and his lips were parted, and moved slightly, as if he were speaking to himself. A sickly gleam of light from the ship’s lanthorn, which hung from a beam above, fell on his countenance, and gave it a hue so pallid that I thought the shades of death were fast gathering over him. My heart sank within me. Were his anticipations, then, of evil so soon to be realised? Of evil? Would it, indeed, be an evil to him, poor child, to be removed from all the temptations to vice, from the scenes of violence and wrong with which he was surrounded? I felt it would not, and still I could not bear the thought of losing him; and there was another, far, far away, who would mourn him still more—his mother. Who would have the courage to tell her that she would see her boy no more? I trusted that I might not have the painful task to perform. I prayed earnestly, for his widowed mother’s sake, that he might recover; that he might go through his fiery trials in the world unscathed; that he might withstand the world, the flesh, and the devil, and, through the merits of our Master, attain eternal happiness in the end. The surgeon entered the sick-bay. I signed to him that the boy was sleeping.
“What do you think of his case, doctor?” said I with an anxious face. “Will he recover?”
“If fever does not set in he’ll do,” answered the medico. “McCallum will keep a constant watch on him during the night. He’ll call me if any change takes place. Ye need not fash yourself, Hurry; the boy is in no danger, I tell you.”
These words consoled me. Still I was not perfectly satisfied. The heart of a sailor, far removed as he is from the social influences of the shore, looks out for something on which to set its more tender affections.
I felt for that lone boy as if he had been a young brother or sister. My feelings were, I dare say, shared by many of my messmates. We most of us, if not cast originally in the same mould, had by circumstances become shaped very much alike as to the inner man; the same prejudices, the same affections, the same passions, the same ideas of honour, and I will say the same tender feelings and generous impulses, were shared by most of us alike. But I was speaking of Harry Sumner. Several times during my watch below I turned out to see how he was getting on. McCallum reported favourably of him; so, tolerably contented, I went back to my hammock and slept soundly.