Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Our host did not talk much. He put a few questions as to the number of the Doris’s guns, and their length and weight of metal, and whether she was reputed a fast sailer; to all which questions I gave honest answers, and he seemed satisfied. He rapidly devoured his food, and was evidently in a hurry to be on deck again. This made me fancy that he was not quite so certain of having escaped the frigate as I had at first supposed. A glass of hot wine and water raised my spirits, for I had been so long in my wet clothes, that, although the weather was warm, I had become very chilly. Without asking his leave, I handed a glass to Toby, who wanted it as much as I did. The captain said nothing, but when he got up to go on deck, he told me that we might take off our clothes, and turn into one of the berths to get warm. At first I was going to do so, but I could not help fancying that some accident might happen, and that I would rather be dressed, so I sat down with Toby on the deck, holding on by the legs of the table.

The steward, having stowed away the things, went and lay down in his corner, and soon, by his loud snores, showed that he was again fast asleep. Toby quickly followed his example; and I had been dozing for some time, though I thought that I was awake, when I was aroused by the report of a gun overhead. The lamp had gone out, and left a strong odour of oil in the close cabin. The grey light of dawn streamed down the companion-hatch. Calling Toby, I jumped on deck. There, away to leeward, was the frigate, within gun-shot distance, but this time the lugger had begun the fight, and she had not yet fired. The wind had lessened, and the sea had gone down considerably. The frigate was on our lee-quarter, and I saw that, as soon as she opened her fire, our chance would be a very small one.

The French captain, and his officers and men, had got two guns over the quarter, having cut away some of the bulwarks, and were energetically working them, with desperation stamped on their countenances. Toby and I stood, as before, holding on to the companion-hatch, and this time—I must confess it—my teeth, as well as his, chattered with the cold, and damp, and agitation. No one took any notice of us. The Frenchmen were again aiming high, in the hope of knocking away some of the frigate’s spars. They were brave fellows: I could not help admiring them. Shot followed shot in rapid succession. I wondered that Captain Collyer’s patience was not exhausted.

“There! I know’d they’d do it,” exclaimed Toby, suddenly. “And catch it if they did!” he added.

As he spoke I saw a white splinter glance from the fore-topmast of the frigate, while a rent appeared in the sail. The Frenchmen shouted as if they had done a clever thing, but they had little to shout for; the next instant a shower of round-shot came whistling through our sails, some just above our heads; two struck the lugger’s side, and one killed three men dead on the decks. Though I knew how dangerous was our position I was too eager to see what was taking place to go below. Still the gallant French captain would not strike, but stood as energetically as before, encouraging his men to work the guns. I wished that he would give in though, for my own and Toby’s sake, nor did I think that he had a chance of escaping. There he stood full of life and energy, now hauling on a gun-tackle, now looking along a gun. The next moment there was a whistling and crash of shot, and I saw several mangled forms sent flying along the deck. One was that of the brave captain. I ran to assist him, but though there was a convulsive movement of the limbs, he was perfectly dead. At the same moment down came the lugger’s mainyard. I saw that it was completely up with her at all events. Some of the privateer’s men continued at the guns, but the greater number tumbled headlong down below, to avoid the frigate’s next broadside. My eye glancing up at that moment, I saw the French flag still flying. Believing that the only way to avoid the catastrophe was to haul it down, followed by Toby, I ran aft to do so. I was too late. The Frenchmen fired, and another crushing broadside struck the lugger, and made her reel with the shock. The companion-hatch was knocked to pieces. We should have been killed had we remained at our former post.

The next instant there was a fearful cry—the men who had gone below sprang up again with pale faces and cries of terror. The lugger rushed on, made one fearful plunge, and I saw that she was sinking. I had kept my eye on the wreck of the companion-hatch. Dragging Toby with me, I sprang to it and clutched it tightly, and as the sea washed along the deck, and the sinking vessel disappeared, we found ourselves clinging to it and floating on the summit of a curling wave. As soon as I had cleared my eyes from the water, I looked round for the frigate. She was in the act of heaving-to in order to lower her boats. The sea around us was sprinkled with struggling forms, but not half the lugger’s crew were to be seen. Numbers must have gone down in her. Shrieks and cries for help reached our ears, but we could assist no one. Some were clinging to spars and planks, and pieces of the shattered bulwarks; a few were swimming, but the greater number were floundering about; and now I saw a hand disappear—now two were thrown up to sink immediately beneath the waves—now a shriek of agony reached our ears. It was very terrible. The companion-hatch to which Toby and I clung had been so knocked about that it scarcely held together, and I expected every moment that it would go to pieces, and that we should be separated. I earnestly wished for the boats to come to us, and it appeared to me that the frigate was far longer than usual in heaving-to and lowering them. At last, as we rose to the top of a wave, I saw three boats pulling towards us. The men were giving way with all their might as British seamen always will when lives are to be saved, even those of enemies. Several Frenchmen had been picked up, when I saw a boat making towards us. Mr Johnson was steering, and Spellman was the midshipman in her. We were not recognised when we were hauled into the boat, and might not have been had I not said—

“What, Spellman, don’t you know me?”

“You, Merry,” he exclaimed, looking at me with an astonished gaze. “What business have you here? Why we left you drowning—up Channel somewhere—hours ago.”

“Thank you, but we have taken a cruise since then,” said I.

“And rather a perilous one, young gentleman,” exclaimed the boatswain, now recognising me. “You had the shot rattling pretty thick about you, and I’m heartily glad to see you safe, that I am.” And he nearly wrung my hand off as he shook it. “I never saw guns better aimed than ours were, except once, and that was when I was attacking a Spanish line-of-battle ship in a jolly boat. I’ll tell you all about it some day, but well just pick up some of these drowning Frenchmen first. Give way, my lads.”