Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

I had been about to ask the boatswain how he got clear of the two line-of-battle ships, when this interruption occurred. Toby Bluff had been standing at a respectful distance, taking it all in with open mouth and astonishment. Each man went to his station—bulkheads were knocked away—the fires put out—the magazine opened—powder and shot were carried on deck—the guns were cast loose, and every preparation was made in a wonderfully short space of time. As I passed along the main-deck, I found Toby Bluff sitting on his tub, the picture of a regular powder-monkey—fat, sturdy, and unconcerned. He had become on very familiar terms with the other boys, and had fought his way into a satisfactory state of equality. He and those near him were firing off jokes at each other at a rapid rate, the others trying to frighten him, and he in no way inclined to take alarm.

“Never you mind,” he answered to a remark made by one of his companions; “if some chaps have their heads blown off, others gets new ones clapped on again! Ha, ha, ha! That’s more than some of you ever see’d done.”

I was glad to see that Toby was in such good heart, and would not disgrace our county. When I reached the upper deck, I found our bunting going up and down. We were signalising with the stranger, which, after all, turned out to be no enemy, but his Majesty’s thirty-six gun frigate Uranius. There was a general groan of disappointment when the order was given to secure the guns and close the magazine. I believe that, at that moment, most of the people, so worked up were they for fighting, would rather have had a turn to with their friend than have been baulked altogether. We found, however, that we should soon have a good opportunity of gratifying our pugnacious propensities. Admiral Cornwallis was at that time the commander-in-chief of the Channel fleet. He had directed Captain Collyer to look out for the Uranius and another frigate, the Emerald, and to proceed off Point Saint Matthieu, to watch the French and Spanish fleets then lying in Brest harbour. After cruising for a couple of days, we fell in with the other frigate, and thus all together proceeded to our destination. We soon reached it. On standing in towards the land, we very clearly made out the enemy’s fleet at anchor in Brest harbour; but few, if any, of the ships had their sails bent, and even if they had come out after us we could very easily have escaped.

“All hands shorten sail, and bring ship to an anchor,” was the order given, and all three frigates brought up just as coolly as if we had been at Spithead.

“I wonder what they think of us?” I observed to the boatswain, as one day I was examining the enemy through my glass.

“Think of us!” he exclaimed. “That we are as impudent as sparrows, and that they would willingly wring our necks and eat us if they could. But it is nothing to what I have seen done in the way of daring. I once belonged to a frigate, commanded by Captain Longbow, and, as he would tell you, if you were to ask him, we one night sailed right into the middle of a Spanish fleet—ran alongside one of their ships, boarded and carried her, and took her out free without the Spanish admiral discovering what we had been about. There’s no end to the wonderful things I have seen done, or, I may say, without conceit, have done, Mr Merry. But I rather suspect that we shall have to lose sight of the Dons and Monsieurs for a few days. There’s bad weather coming on, and we shall have to stand out to sea; but, never mind, they’ll not make their escape with a gale in their teeth.”

Mr Johnson prognosticated rightly. Before many hours it was blowing great guns and small-arms, and the three frigates were endeavouring, under all the sail they could carry, to obtain a good offing from the land. We tumbled about and pitched into the seas in a way which prevented me from, as usual, pitching into my dinner. One thing was satisfactory; the gale blockaded the enemy as effectually as we could have done. They were not inclined to come out and face either our guns or the fury of the wind. I cannot say, however, that just at that time anything brought much consolation to me. I had only one very strong wish; it was, to be thrown overboard—not that I had the slightest intention of jumping into the sea of my own accord. I was too far gone for any such energetic proceeding; and had anybody else taken me up for the purpose, I have no doubt that I should have struggled and kicked myself into perfect health again. I had coiled myself away on the top of my chest, on the lower-deck, in a dark recess, where I thought no one would see me; and there I hoped to remain all alone in my misery, till the ship went down, or blew up, or something else dreadful happened, for as to my ever getting well again that I felt was physically impossible. I had lain thus for some time, believing myself to be the most miserable small piece of humanity in existence, when, the frigate appearing to be pitching and rolling more furiously than ever, I heard a gruff voice exclaim—

“What, youngster! are you going to let the ship go down, and you not try to save her? On deck with you; be smart, now.”

I felt a colt applied to a part of my body which, in the position I lay, offered a tempting mark. The voice was that of old Perigal; his sharp eyes had found me out. I sprang up and rushed on deck with an involuntary yell of pain, to find the ship under her three topsails closely reefed, forcing her way bravely through the seas, and not at all inclined to go down, or to come to any other damage.

“You’re all the better for that trip, youngster,” said the old mate, with a grin, as I returned to the berth. “Now, just take a lump of this fat bacon, and a bit of biscuit,—and here, as a treat, you shall have a nip of old Jamaica, and you’ll be all to rights in ten minutes, and never be sea-sick again as long as you live.”