I could not ascertain whether Captain Collyer had heard what Toby had told me, but two days afterwards, he and Cuff were together, not far from the captain, when he turned round and said:
“My eye is upon you, boys Bluff and Cuff, and, if you continue to behave as well as you have done, your interest will be cared for.”
Now, I could not help thinking that they really had saved the ship, but it would have been inconvenient to have acknowledged this at the time, and certainly have done Bluff and Cuff no real good; probably only have set them up, and made them idle. I am convinced that the captain acted in this matter, as he did in all others, with true kindness and judgment.
Four or five days after this providential suppression of the mutiny, as I was walking the deck, having volunteered to return to my duty, the look-out at the mast-head hailed that a sail was in sight. The usual questions were asked, and the master, going aloft to examine her, pronounced her to be, without doubt, a line-of-battle ship. It was not quite so easy to determine whether she was an enemy or a friend. If the former, we might have another battle to fight, for Captain Collyer was not the man to yield without one. Having the prize in tow, we were making all sail on our homeward course.
On came the stranger. She was on our weather quarter, and soon showed us that she sailed faster than we did.
Captain Collyer now hailed Mr Lukyn, who commanded the prize, to say that he intended to fight the line-of-battle ship to the last, and then explained to him how he intended to manage.
“With all my heart, sir,” answered Mr Lukyn, and the crew of the prize gave a loud cheer to show that they were ready.
The drum beat to quarters, and not only did all that were well assemble, but even all the sick and wounded who could move crawled up on deck to help man the guns. Though I should not have been sorry to have got home without more fighting, I was as ready as any one, and hoped that I should not get another wound, as I was quite content with the one I had to exhibit. A guard was kept over the prisoners, who were told that they would be shot down without mercy if they made any disturbance, and then in grim silence we stood ready for the fight.
The stranger came on, but at length she began to make signals, and we signalled in return, and then we soon found out that she was not an enemy, but a friend. She proved to be the Hercules, 74, and as she was homeward-bound, her captain said that he would keep us company, to help fight any enemy which might appear.
We ran on for two days, when the Hercules made the signal of “fleet to the south-east,” and soon afterwards that several ships had borne up in chase. We next learned that they were enemies. We had still the prize in tow. Every stitch of canvas alow and aloft which the ship could carry was packed on her. It was an anxious time. To lose our gallantly won prize, and perhaps to be carried off to a French prison, were not pleasant anticipations.