“Vive la France!” exhibiting in his cups the real cosmopolitan feelings which inspired him—the feelings of most old soldiers of fortune. They start probably with some vague notions of seeking honour and glory, but, finding the objects at which they aim thoroughly unsatisfying, they in most cases become intensely selfish, and think only how they can make themselves most comfortable under any circumstances in which they are placed, or how they can secure the largest amount of plunder. This was the last time I saw Colonel Pinchard, but I heard that he married the Creole widow, foreswore France, and settled in Jamaica.
We were all glad to get to sea again, as we had little pleasure from being in harbour, for, though the West Indies has many charms, and at some seasons no fault can be found with the climate, yet Yellow Jack is an unpleasant customer, whose visits we were happy to avoid. I have not named any of my messmates for some time. Poor McAllister was the only one much changed; the climate certainly affected him, but he got a great deal of badgering from the officers of his own standing in the service, and especially from the mates of other ships, for having been outwitted by the Frenchman, and for losing his prize. He took his bantering ill in public, and brooded over the subject in private, till he began to believe that his courage was doubted, and that he must do some very daring deed to retrieve it. But I must do old Perigal the credit to say that he never bantered him, though Spellman did whenever he thought he could give a sly hit with impunity. I did what I could to comfort him, and the liking for me, which he had always entertained, evidently increased. I was in his watch, and, as we walked the deck together, he would talk to me by the hour of Scotland, and the estate of his ancestors, which he hoped one day to recover. Suddenly he would break off, and in a tone of deep melancholy, exclaim, “Ah, but those are dreams—all dreams—never to be realised. I am never to see bonnie Scotland again; her heathery hills, and blue, blue lochs, and my own Mary; but I’ve never told you of her. She’s been the pole-star to me since I came to sea. She was but a young girl then, but when I had returned from my first voyage, she’d grown into the fairest maiden for many a mile round, and soon she promised to be mine, when I should get my promotion. I won’t talk more of her, though; but you’ll undertake, Merry, when you go home, should I lose the number of my mess, to go and find out the poor girl, and tell her all about me.” And so he ran on. Of course I promised to do all he wished. Midshipmen always do promise each other all sorts of things of a similar nature, and intend to fulfil their promises faithfully, though I am not prepared to assert that they always do so.
By the bye, it is rather curious that at least half my messmates who confided their attachments to me were in love with young ladies of the name of Mary. Sometimes, I suspect, they were myths, but they did equally well to talk about. To a sailor’s ear there is something very attractive in the name; certainly I have known several most charming Maries, and one especially—but I am not going to make confessions.
The Pearl sailed well, and kept easily in company with us. After getting clear of Jamaica we stood to the eastward, to run down among the French islands, where we might have a chance of falling in with some of the privateers starting on their cruise. We had before long done a good deal of mischief among them; we captured three, sunk one, burnt another, and drove two on shore. At last, one morning at daybreak, a large schooner was reported in sight, standing to the southward. Both we and the corvette made all sail in chase. There was no doubt that she was an enemy, as she spread all the canvas she could set for the purpose of escaping. The wind was light, which was to her advantage, and from the first it seemed very doubtful that we should overtake the chase. Still, while there was a chance, Captain Collyer was not the man to give it up. The wind was about abeam. The corvette was ordered to keep well to windward, to prevent the schooner from hauling up, and thus escaping; while there was no doubt that, should she attempt to escape before the wind, fast as she might sail we should come up with her. Our aim was to jam her down on the land, as we had done other vessels, when we should drive her on shore or capture her.
During the morning I was several times on the forecastle, where I found McAllister with his glass eagerly fixed on the chase.
“I am certain of it,” he exclaimed. “As true as I’m a Highland gentleman, and my name is McAllister, that craft ahead of us is the Audacieuse. I know her by second sight, or, if you don’t believe in it, by the cut of her canvas, even at this distance. I’m certain of it. I would give my patrimony, and more wealth than I am ever likely to possess, to come up with her. I’ll make Lieutenant Préville pay dearly for the trick he played us.”
Though I thought very likely that the schooner in sight was our former prize, I could not be certain. Neither were the men who had been with us, nor were the crew of the Espoir at all certain as to the vessel in sight. As Ned Bambrick observed, “She might be her, or she might not be her; but one French schooner, at the distance of seven or eight miles, looked very like another, and that’s all I can say, do ye see, sir, for certain. The only way is to overhaul her, and then we shall know.”
Perigal was inclined to side with McAllister, from the satisfaction which the so doing afforded him; indeed, he now appeared in far better spirits than he had done since our mishap.
At last the breeze freshened, and we rose the land, the coast of Cuba, beyond the chase. Her chance of escape was consequently much lessened, unless she could haul up along shore, or there was any harbour up which she might run for shelter. We were now clearly gaining on her, and as we drew nearer McAllister became more and more certain that she was the Audacieuse, while others also agreed with him. I, of course, hoped that he was right.
“We will make Préville cook for us. He shall be employed in dressing ragouts all day long,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. “But I hope he won’t yield without fighting. I wish it would fall calm, and I may be sent in command of the boats to take him. That would be the most satisfactory thing.”