Bending sails, and getting all ready for an early start, occupied some time, when, the watch being set, with strict orders to keep a wakeful eye on the prisoners, the rest of the party lay down on the sails, and were soon sound asleep.
At early dawn all hands were roused up, and the schooner was very soon got under weigh. There was little or no wind to fill her sails, so the boats’ crews had to tow her down the river, hoping to find a breeze, as they got near its mouth, to take her out. Nine miles of their distance had been thus accomplished, when, at about seven o’clock, as she was passing through a long reach of the river Nun, a sail hove in sight, which was soon discovered to be a rakish two-topsail schooner. She stood boldly on up the river towards the barracoons, either not observing the little Lark, or, at all events, not suspecting into whose hands she had fallen. Lieutenant Dumaresq on this instantly ordered the man-of-war boats to be hauled up alongside of the schooner on the opposite side to that on which the stranger was approaching, so that she should not observe them, and, by taking fright, endeavour to make her escape. At the same time, the pinnace and gig were manned and held in readiness (the crews being well armed) to board the schooner, Mr Kingston receiving orders to remain in charge of the Lark with the cutter’s crew. On slowly came the stranger, the light wind only just enabling her to stem the current. She seemed totally unconscious of the neighbourhood of her enemies. On a sudden something seemed to awaken her suspicions; and Lieutenant Dumaresq, judging that the best time had arrived for taking possession, shoved off and pulled towards her as fast as the crews could lay their backs to the oars. Mr Kingston meantime was left in command of the Lark, with the cutter’s crew; Mr Thorburn accompanied their leader. Away went the boats. The stranger now for the first time was aware of her danger, or rather certainty of capture, unless she could blow the approaching boats out of the water; but she could have had but slight hopes of doing so with any chance of ultimate success, as she saw that the Lark was in the hands of her enemies, and she could not tell how many people might be remaining on board to avenge the destruction of their comrades. Still, slavers, when they have seen a chance of success, have often fought desperately; and the cutter’s crew on board the Lark watched with deep interest the approach of the two boats to the big schooner, not knowing what moment she might open her fire on them; but the slaver’s crew had not even the brute-like courage to induce them to fight in defence of their accursed calling, and, without firing a shot, they allowed the two boats to come alongside. Once having a firm hold of the slaver’s chains with their boat-hooks, the British seamen very quickly scrambled on board. The crew, who were chiefly Spaniards, made no opposition, nor did a number of other people, who, dressed in shore-going clothes, announced themselves as passengers. There was certainly a wonderfully sea-going look about them, though they all seemed very anxious to leave the vessel as fast as possible. Now, as the consequences of detaining people against their will are often very disagreeable, Lieutenant Dumaresq, whatever might have been his suspicions, thought it best to allow the gentlemen to take their departure. It was afterwards discovered that the fellows, who were all of them belonging to the slaver’s crew, took on shore a very considerable number of doubloons, which form in general the most valuable portion of a prize, unless she has her cargo of slaves on board; the slave-vessel herself and her stores rarely sell for much. What was called head-money has of late years been reduced to one-fourth of what it was formerly. The new prize proved to be the Asp, a fit name for a slaver, though she was now effectually deprived of her sting. As soon as she was thoroughly overhauled, and all her forthcoming papers secured, the Spanish crew were sent below, and the man-of-war’s boats began towing the two schooners down the river. It was laborious work, after the incessant labour for so many hours the men had gone through; but a prize tows easily, and the gallant fellows cheerfully bent to their oars. Thus the two vessels proceeded on rapidly between the mangrove-covered banks of the river. By five p.m. the entrance of the Nun appeared in sight, and preparations were instantly made for crossing the bar,—I must rather say bars, for there are three, one within the other, at some distance apart; and over them, when the current sets out and the wind blows in, the sea breaks with great violence, so that, under those circumstances, the crossing them, even in a decked vessel, is a work of very considerable danger. On this occasion appearances were far from favourable: the wind was foul, and blowing very strong; a heavy sea was breaking over the bars, its incessant roar seeming like a warning not to venture into its power; while evening was rapidly closing in, the coming darkness threatening to increase the difficulties to be encountered. Still Mr Dumaresq was unwilling to expose his followers to the baneful atmospheric influences of another night spent within the mouth of the river, or to the chances of attack from any of the slavers’ friends who might be in the neighbourhood, and who would always be ready to win back a prize at any sacrifice of the lives of the captors; though that was a contingency not likely to happen. He was rather influenced, probably, by his anxiety to secure his prizes, and to report his proceedings to his superior officer. The schooners had anchored just inside the inner bar, and all the necessary preparations having been made, and the tide serving, they again got under weigh. Mr Dumaresq led in the Asp, directing Mr Kingston to follow in his wake. This Mr Kingston did, approaching the bar on the starboard tack, the Lark having the cutter towing astern, and her own boat, which could not be hoisted up on account of the tackles being unrove, and a net full of vegetables being worked athwart the davits. Neither could her boat be got on board, on account of the crowded state of the decks. As the Lark drew close to the bar, the appearance of things in no degree mended. Hands were placed in the chains, who kept the lead constantly going; and, as the water shoaled, the schooners had to tack repeatedly, wearing sometimes, as the heavy swell threatened otherwise to prevent their coming round. From the first, Mr Kingston had but little confidence in the black volunteer pilot who had accompanied him on board the Lark; and now, though he urged him by threats to perform the duty he had undertaken, and tried to stimulate him to exertion by reminding him of his promised reward, he only answered, “This is no my bar!” and finally threw himself down on the deck under the bulwarks, refusing to take any further charge of the vessel. It must be remembered that the boats had entered the Niger by the Brass river, the bar of which was his bar, and that he had bargained to act as pilot through its mouth, so that there was ample excuse for the poor wretch; this, however, in no degree lessened the danger of the position in which the little Lark was placed.
It was now perfectly dark and very squally, while nothing was visible to mark the course the vessel should pursue but the phosphorescent light of the breakers stretching across the bar from shore to shore; while to all appearance there seemed to be reef only beyond reef, destruction on which it was scarcely possible the schooner could escape. Though the Lark was pressed to the utmost, the Asp soon distanced her; and though Lieutenant Dumaresq showed lights, they were of little or no use in guiding her course. Squall after squall struck the little schooner; and, as she heeled over, it sometimes appeared that she would never again rise, or be able to beat out through the tremendous surf which came rolling in. At length Mr Kingston judged it wise to shorten sail, which he forthwith did, having set only his mainsail, jib, and fore-and-aft foresail, a fore-trysail. He also sent a good hand on the fore-yard to look out for any break which might happily appear in the white wall of surf which came rolling in over the surrounding shoals. The little Lark had now reached the innermost of the three bars, and was pitching into the seas, which came foaming up and rolling over her decks. She had the cutter towing after her, and astern of that was the schooner’s boat. That very soon began to fill, and finally swamped, when it became necessary to cut her adrift. This was done, and she quickly disappeared. At about a quarter to eight a blue light was observed close to windward; and as the Lark was wearing off the heaviest part of the bar, some voices were heard hailing her. It was soon discovered that they proceeded from the pinnace, which had apparently several hands in her. Again they hailed, imploring to be picked up, stating, as far as could be understood, that they had broken adrift from astern of the Asp, with the gig, which was lost; and from the words which reached the Lark, Mr Kingston was very much afraid that several lives were already sacrificed, while it seemed too probable that those in the pinnace would share the same fate, unless he could manage to get near them to take them on board. There was not a moment to spare. The pinnace, it must be understood, was inside the Lark, higher up the river, the Lark having passed her after she had broken adrift from the Asp. In another minute she would have drifted among the breakers, when the destruction of all on board would be sealed. To pick her up under weigh was almost impossible; and, with the tide and heavy sea, the schooner could not be steered with any degree of certainty even near her; and could even this be done, the probabilities were that she would be swamped before the men could be got out of her. The young officer therefore saw that but one course only was open for him to pursue with any chance of success, and that involved immense risk both to the vessel and his people. To think is to act with a British seaman in a case of emergency. He saw that to intercept the boat he must anchor; and, having both anchors clear, and a hand by the weather one all along, he ordered it to be let go, though he had but two fathoms at the time under the vessel’s keel, while the surf from the second bar was curling up round the vessel’s sides, threatening to make a clear sweep of her decks. His order to let go was perhaps not understood, or the Spanish crew, some thirty in number, seeing what was about to be done, and expecting instant destruction in consequence, endeavoured to impede it; at all events, he had to rush forward and cut the stoppers with an axe, which he luckily had at hand.
The schooner brought up all standing, the sea at the same instant making a terrific breach over her; but the helmsman was a good hand, and sheered her over to the exact spot the pinnace must pass. The whole was the work of a moment. The boat drifted near, a rope was hove into her, and providentially caught by the nearly exhausted crew. She was hauled alongside, her people being got out, while some fresh hands went down into her and secured her with her own cable and the end of the schooner’s main-sheet. At the same time the schooner’s fore-sheet was passed into the cutter as a preventer. Four men were saved from the pinnace. They stated that she and the gig had been towing astern of the Asp, with two hands in each, when, on crossing the inner bar, they both broke adrift together. Instead, however, of the two men in the pinnace getting into the gig, which they might have managed, those in the smaller got into the larger boat, fancying they would be safer, when they found themselves totally unable to pull her against the tide, or to guide her to shore. The Lark very soon after this began to drive, when the other anchor was dropped under foot, while they veered away on the larboard cable. She now held, but the breakers made a clean breach over her decks, washing adrift the numerous casks, loose spars, fowl-coops, and a variety of other things; and in addition, what was worse than all, a large scuttle-butt of palm-oil. Meantime, to increase the confusion and danger, the cutter and pinnace were striking the stern and quarters of the vessel with great force, often coming as far forward as the main-chains on both sides. The Spaniards had from the first been very unruly, and they now gave symptoms of an intention of breaking into open mutiny. In addition, therefore, to the variety of other duties the British seamen were called on to perform, it became necessary for them to keep their arms in readiness, to repel any sudden attack the fellows might venture to make on them for the purpose of regaining the schooner. The palm-oil, also, which is like very thick red mud, had coated the whole deck from before the foremast nearly as far aft as the mainmast, making it more slippery even than ice, so that no one could either stand or walk on it. The water, also, had no effect on its greasy composition, and as there were no ashes on board to strew over it, one part of the deck became almost separated from the other. The Spaniards were evidently watching their opportunity, and kept eyeing the British seamen with no friendly intentions. They were four to one of them, and though deprived of their muskets and cutlasses, they had still the long knives in their belts, without which no Spaniard ever thinks his costume complete. The wretches kept up such a hubbub, and did so much to impede the work of the vessel, that some of them very nearly got shot, as a hint to the rest of what they might expect if they proceeded to extremities. The gallant young officer himself had little fear of what they might venture to do, as, considering the dilemma the vessel was placed in, surrounded by shoals, with heavy breakers close at hand, and in thick darkness, they could scarcely hope to get out to sea and escape that way, or, if they returned up the river, to avoid recapture should they regain possession of the vessel. In obedience, however, to his written instructions, he kept some of his people under arms to watch the fellows. For full half an hour the little schooner lay in this way, it being expected every instant that her anchors would part, when a roller, more severe even than the others, threw the cutter on board on the larboard quarter, breaking the bunk adrift and capsizing it. As the vessel rose again, the boat fell aft and immediately filled, when she was of necessity cut adrift to prevent her doing more damage; and as soon as this was done she sank. Shortly after this the squalls began to become less frequent, and the breakers moderated gradually; an opening, also, was seen in the line of sparkling foam from the fore-yard; so Mr Kingston resolved to make sail and to get out of the river. He contrived to weigh the starboard or lee anchor, after very many fruitless attempts to do so on account of the heavy surges; but as it was found impossible to purchase the weather one, it was slipped, and the schooner wore round under her jib in a quarter less two fathoms. A sharp-sighted seaman stood on the fore-yard, from whence he conned the vessel,—the lead kept going as before. The mainsail was then set, and the schooner stood out towards the opening which appeared in the surf. She obeyed her helm readily, the rocks and shoals were avoided, and at length the outer bar was safely passed. At about ten p.m. she came up with the Asp, anchored a short distance outside. Lieutenant Dumaresq stood with speaking-trumpet in hand, and hailed the Lark. “I’m glad you’ve got out safe; but I fear four of my poor fellows are lost, and our two boats.”
“They’re safe on board, and I have your boat in tow,” was the answer. A loud congratulatory cheer from the British seamen on board the Asp signified their satisfaction at the success of Mr Kingston’s gallant exploit. He then anchored, and, going on board the Asp, was further thanked and congratulated by his superior officer; who had not only given up all hopes of the people in the pinnace and gig having escaped, but of the Lark herself, as his own vessel had had a most perilous passage across the bars. She had struck three times, in one of which shocks the boats had broken adrift. The two schooners again weighed and ran down to the Wolverine, lying off the Brass, ten miles distant. On their arrival, Mr Kingston had the satisfaction of receiving the warmest approval of his excellent commander for the gallantry and judgment he had displayed. The vessels were afterwards sent to Sierra Leone, where they were condemned and cut up.
Mr Kingston having taken the Lark schooner to Sierra Leone, where she was condemned, was appointed to HMS Saracen, which soon afterwards arrived there. From that place the Saracen sailed for the river Gambia, soon after the 2nd of March.
On the evening of the 13th of the same month, while on her passage there, when it was blowing fresh, with a heavy cross sea, a lad aged nineteen, named John Plunket, fell overboard from the main-topgallant-yard. In falling he struck against the topsail-yard and the sweeps stowed on the quarter, and was bleeding at the mouth and almost senseless when he reached the water. The lad could not swim, and his death seemed inevitable; when Mr Kingston, who was on the quarter-deck, without a moment’s hesitation sprang overboard, exclaiming to his commander as he ran aft, “Send a boat as quick as you can, sir—I’ll save him.” He struck out bravely towards the poor lad, but before he could reach him he sank. A cry of horror arose from all on board, for they thought the lad was lost, though every exertion was made to get a boat in the water to pick up Mr Kingston. Plunket, however, again rose, and Mr Kingston grasping hold of him, supported him above water, though with much difficulty, as the lad, who bled profusely from the mouth and nostrils, convulsively clung round him, and almost dragged him down to the bottom. Fortunately, he released himself from the clutch of the now senseless youth, and continued to support him by swimming and treading water. For fear of exhaustion, he afterwards threw himself on his back, and, placing the head of his almost inanimate shipmate on his chest, he kept him up for a quarter of an hour, till a boat reached them and took them on board.
On another occasion, while on the coast of Africa, in a spot where sharks were known to abound, Mr Kingston leaped overboard after another lad who had fallen into the water. Fortunately the life-buoy was let go at the same time, and, wisely catching hold of it, he towed it up to the sinking youth, and providentially preserved his life.