No part of the British coast presents a harbour of beauty equal to that of Plymouth Sound, with its lofty banks covered with trees from the summit to the water’s edge, its rocks and headlands, its numerous bays, inlets, and other indentations, the towers and glittering white buildings of the picturesque town at the northern end, and the lordly castle and waving woods of Mount Edgcombe on the west.
On a bright summer morning a frigate was seen gliding slowly up the Sound, and making her way towards Hamoaze. The French flag under that of England proclaimed her to be a prize. She was quickly boarded by boats from the shore, every one in them eager to be on board, for a prize crew are supposed to have their pockets well lined with coin, and to be ready to spend it. She was soon known to be “La Forte,” captured by the “Thisbe” in the East Indies. She at once went into dock, her crew was paid off, and Rawson got confirmed in his rank of commander; but Ronald Morton received no further acknowledgment of his services. He had been paid some prize-money, and he might have remained on shore to enjoy some relaxation after the number of years he had been employed; but he had few even of the acquaintance young naval men usually make, and idleness was the very last thing in which he wished just then to indulge. Action, excitement, was what he wanted. He longed once more for the battle and the tempest. In this mood, when the ship was paid off, he went on shore. A tall thin young man, in a post-captain’s uniform, met him before he had walked a hundred paces, and after looking at him hard, held out his hand, exclaiming—“Morton, old shipmate, I’m glad to meet you.”
“So am I, you, Lord Claymore,” returned Ronald, happy to encounter one he had known and liked so much.
“Well, you see, Morton, that I have got the two swabs on my shoulders,” said the young lord, laughing. “I’ve worked hard for them, let me tell you; my lords of the Admiralty don’t give promotion for nothing to those who don’t happen to be born with silver spoons in their mouths; and I was not, I know. Mine was of wood or iron. I hope that you will get your’s soon—you deserve it. I met Rawson just now, and he was speaking of you. But, in the meantime, what do you say to taking a berth as my first lieutenant? I’ve interest enough to obtain that for you. Come along with me for a few yards. You can see the ship I have just commissioned. She is not long off the stocks. I cannot say much for her at present. She is small and cramped, but she carries thirty-eight guns, and I’ll make her do something one of these days.”
Ronald at once accepted Lord Claymore’s offer. They shortly after fell in with Glover. Lord Claymore told him that he should apply for him as his junior lieutenant.
In a week the two old shipmates found themselves appointed to the “Pallas” frigate, nominally of thirty-two guns, though in reality mounting thirty-eight. Of course Job Truefitt and Bob Doull followed them. Ronald had been puzzled to know how to dispose of the elder Doull and Archy Eagleshay, when the two old men applied to enter. At first he was inclined to laugh at the notion, but when the captain saw them he desired that they might not be refused.
“There is stuff in them yet—they will be useful.”
They proved that Lord Claymore was right, and he soon rated them as quarter-masters.
“We must be sharp in manning the frigate, Morton,” said his captain. “Promise largely. We’ll redeem our word, depend on that.”
Bills soon appeared, posted all over Plymouth:—“The ‘Pallas,’ fitting for sea, in want of a few prime hands. The fastest frigate in the service—sure to come back in a few weeks with a full cargo of Spanish pewter and cobs. Plenty of liberty at the end of each trip. Engaged to make more prize-money in three weeks than any other ship in three years.”