It was some time before O’Carroll would pronounce an opinion. He then declared positively that there were two ships, and that they were approaching the land. There was a strong breeze. We sat down on the ground, watching anxiously. They came nearer and nearer. We had no longer any doubt that the Phoebe had captured the privateer. The midshipmen declared positively that the largest was their ship.
“We ought to know her, though, to be sure, it is more of the inside than the out we see of her,” observed Toby.
All our doubts were set at rest at length, when the British ensign was seen flying proudly over that of the French.
Three cheers burst almost involuntarily from our throats, which could hardly have failed to have shown our whereabouts to the French soldiers; but if they guessed the cause, they thought it prudent to take no notice of our proceedings, but, as we supposed, hurried back to their abodes, to conceal any property of value which they might possess. William and Trundle meantime were unable to resist the temptation of going on board the Indiaman, to give our new friends the joyful news. They said that they should be back in plenty of time to see the ships enter the harbour. O’Carroll and I preferred waiting to watch proceedings. At length the frigate and privateer got close in with the land, when both hove-to. What was now to happen? Boats were seen passing between the two vessels, and then the Mignonne’s head came slowly round towards the mouth of the harbour, and on she glided towards it. The flags remained as they were, and men, we saw, were stationed at the guns. Some opposition was probably expected. There was a fort at the entrance of the harbour—not a very formidable-looking affair—with five ship’s guns mounted in it. Round them we saw the greater part of the mongrel garrison clustering as if they were going to show fight, but if so, they thought better of it, for, after a short consultation, they sneaked away, leaving the fort to take care of itself. The Mignonne came gliding on, bearing evident traces in her masts and rigging of the punishment she had received, and of the obstinacy—or what would have been valour in a better cause—with which she had been defended. We met the midshipmen running down towards the landing-place, and jumping into the first boat we could find, we got alongside her directly she dropped anchor.
“Why, Braithwaite, Trundle! where have you come from?” exclaimed several voices, as the midshipmen clambered up the side.
They soon gave an account of themselves, and I need scarcely say that we were heartily welcomed by the officers of the Phoebe in charge of the prize, who were in high spirits at having captured a vessel which had proved one of the greatest pests to British commerce in the Eastern seas. The Frenchmen had not yielded till more than a third of their number lay dead or desperately wounded on her decks. Among them were several of the seamen of the unfortunate Kangaroo, including her wretched captain and mate. The survivors of the Englishmen declared that they had been forced on board and compelled to fight. We declined to express any opinion on the subject. All we could say was that we had missed them from the encampment, and had every reason to suppose that they had fallen into the hands of the French. They thus escaped hanging, which I certainly believe they deserved. The chief offenders had already paid the penalty of their crimes. I need scarcely describe the delight of the passengers of the Indiaman on finding that they could now proceed on their voyage, or of the prisoners who were released from the different hulks. They were the officers and seamen taken in different prizes by the Mignonne. The excuse the Frenchmen gave for treating them thus barbarously was that the French taken by English cruisers were shut up on board hulks in English harbours without good food or any exercise. They pretended not to understand that, in one instance, the prisoners would inevitably have escaped had they been left at liberty, while in the present they had had no opportunity of escaping. The mouth of the harbour having been surveyed, the frigate came in the next day, that her crew might assist in repairing the Mignonne and getting the Indiaman and the other vessels ready for sea. I was curious to ascertain what O’Carroll would say to finding La Roche at length a prisoner. I asked him if he would go on board the frigate with me to see the French captain.
“I would not do so to triumph over a fallen foe, but perhaps if I was to set eyes on him again for a few times I might get over the intense dislike—even more, the dread, I feel for him,” he answered. “I have reason to feel dislike. He ruined my prospects, he killed my companions, and he treated me with every indignity and cruelty he could devise while I remained on board his ship. He made me serve him as a menial—wait behind his chair, clean his shoes, arrange his cabin, and if I displeased him he ordered his men to flog me. Ay! I never told you that before, I was ashamed to do so. He well-nigh broke my spirit. Had I remained much longer with him he would have done so, or I should have gone mad and jumped overboard. Still I will see him.”
We went on board the frigate and enquired for the privateer captain. Having already, it appeared, broken his parole in England when he had once before been taken, Captain Young had refused to receive it, and he was therefore confined below in a cabin, with a sentry placed over him. It was naturally supposed that he would otherwise take some opportunity of getting on shore, and, knowing the locality, might remain concealed till he could escape from the island altogether. Accompanied by the master-at-arms, we entered the cabin. La Roche was seated in an easy-chair reading a book when the door opened. He did not rise, but, looking up, nodded to O’Carroll, whom he seemed instantly to recognise.
“Ah, mon ami! it’s the fortune of war, you see. Once I had you in my power, now your countrymen have me,” he said, in a cool, unconcerned manner. “It is pleasant, is it not?—pleasanter for you than for me. However, my turn may come next, and then—”
“I hope not. I hope while I live that I may never again be in your hands!” exclaimed O’Carroll, interrupting him. “You remember how you treated me?”