The “Imperious” homeward bound—The Fire-Ships are prepared—The French Fleet in Basque Roads—Ronald conducts a Fire-Ship—General Explosion of Fire-Ships.
The “Imperious,” with a fine breeze from the southward, was standing across the Bay of Biscay. She had been actively engaged all the time she had been in the Mediterranean, chiefly on the coasts of France and Spain, capturing armed ships and merchantmen, destroying telegraph stations, blowing up forts, and harassing the enemy in every possible way.
The Marquis de Medea and his daughter, with Father Mendez, had been, at their own request, put on board a Spanish vessel bound round to Cadiz, as they fancied that the unsettled state of the country would make the journey by land dangerous and disagreeable. Don Tacon had before that been sent to Malta to take his trial as a pirate, but by some means or other he had been completely, if not honourably, acquitted, and very soon afterwards disappeared from the island. He was supposed by some speedily to have taken to his old courses, and several merchantmen reported that they had been chased by a suspicious-looking lateen-rigged craft, on their passage between Gibraltar and Malta. He had latterly, when the ship was at sea, been allowed a good deal of liberty on board the frigate, and had been allowed to go about the decks at pleasure.
He was, however, again deprived of this liberty in consequence of having been found one day climbing up over the quarter, as if he had been prying into the captain’s cabin. No one had seen him go; it was, therefore, supposed that he must have been concealed there for some time. When caught he at once begged to be secured.
“My life is not safe if I am left at liberty,” he exclaimed, frantically tearing his hair. “I have looked at the past. I look at the future. I am miserable. I see nothing but wretchedness before me. I contemplated self-destruction. I purposed dropping quietly over the stern into the water. I did not wish to create confusion. If I had jumped overboard before you all, a boat would have been lowered, and I should have been picked up; but—must I own it?—my courage failed me. I—I who have been in a hundred fights, and have braved death in a thousand forms—I felt fear. I clung to the side trembling, and climbed on board again, and here I am.”
Ronald had a very just suspicion that Don Tacon was acting. He had formed, indeed, a perfectly just estimate of his consummate impudence and roguery, but still it was difficult to account for the reason of his having got there.
He might have gone there for the sake of eaves-dropping, for the captain was in the cabin at the time, but then it was not likely that he understood English enough to comprehend what was said. There was one very suspicious circumstance against the worthy Tacon.
A few days before Ronald had been with the captain in his cabin discussing a very important matter. It was no less than Lord Claymore’s long-projected plan of destroying the French fleet whenever it could be found collected in one of these exposed roadsteads. Lord Claymore had become more than ever sanguine as to the success of his plan.
“It must succeed, my dear Morton,” he exclaimed vehemently. “It will be of advantage to our country, equal to that of a great victory; but it will be gained without one-tenth part of the loss which a general action would entail. I must obtain my recall forthwith, and lay my plans before the Admiralty. They must listen to me; they can scarcely refuse to consider my plans. They won’t do it for love; they never do love a man who has got brains in his head, unless those brains are subservient to their will and pleasure.”
Ronald remembered that such had been some of the remarks made on the occasion referred to. Lord Claymore was rather inclined to laugh at his suspicions; but notwithstanding that, took good care that Señor Tacon should not again have an opportunity of throwing himself overboard.