In a few words the worthy Pedro also told Ronald who the marquis and the old priest were, and he undertook to do his best to keep a watch on them till they had given the evidence required to establish young Hernan in his rights.
“Believe me,” he added, “I wish him no ill, and I would gladly make any sacrifice to see him restored to his mother and the possessor of his paternal inheritance. As to the marquis, I am not surprised at what you tell me; I never liked him when we had him on board the ‘Imperious,’ while the priest always puzzled me. Tacon showed himself to be a most perfect rogue, and I suspect will give us no little trouble before we can get the required truth out of him. However, as it can be proved that he committed an act of piracy in attacking a Spanish vessel, I shall take the liberty of putting him into irons, to prevent the chance of his escaping.”
Pedro Alvarez was well satisfied with the arrangements made by Morton, while the miserable Tacon complained bitterly of the hard fate to which he was doomed.
“Oh, the malice and cruelty of this world!” he exclaimed. “I no sooner get my legs out of one pair of irons than I find them clapped into another—wretched—ill-used man that I am! What have I done to deserve such a lot?”
When daylight returned, the effect produced by the fireships became apparent. The whole French fleet lay scattered about in every direction. Some had disappeared altogether. They had either sunk or effected their escape up the harbour, but the greater number lay hard and fast on shore, some so much on the heel that a few shots from the British ships would have knocked holes in their bottoms, and when the tide rose have effectually prevented their again floating.
Soon after daybreak the gallant Lord Claymore, the soul and moving spirit of the enterprise, signalised to the Admiral that the whole might be destroyed. For a long time no notice of his signals was taken. At length some vessels were sent to his assistance, but much valuable time was lost, and several of the French ships, by throwing overboard their stores and guns, floated, and got higher up the harbour.
When the British squadron did get into action, they performed their work effectually, and four line-of-battle ships and a fifty-gun ship were taken, two of which were at once destroyed. The other two were not set on fire till night, when a panic seized the French crews, who believed them to be more fire-ships, and then some again cut their cables, and endeavoured to escape up the harbour, while one captain and his ship’s company abandoned their ship altogether. One man only was left on board, who, by his bravery and presence of mind, prevented her from becoming a prize to an English midshipman and his boat’s crew. When the boat pulled up, he hailed in a loud voice, ordering her to keep off, and having a number of marines’ muskets ready, he fired them one after the other with such rapidity, that the midshipman of course fully believed that a considerable part of the crew were still on board.
The next day some fresh fire-ships were fitted for the purpose of destroying the enemy’s ships on shore, which could not otherwise be got at. The wind was, however, unfavourable, and the enterprise was ultimately abandoned.
Ronald’s own ship was not engaged in these operations, and he perhaps was secretly not sorry to avoid the risk his passengers would have run had she been so. He, however, accompanied Lord Claymore, and assisted in capturing the line-of-battle ships and in removing the prisoners. He made all the inquiries he could from the prisoners for Alfonse Gerardin, but not a word could he hear of him, and he began to fear that he must have been killed.
“Poor Hernan!” he said to himself; “it will be sad if such is your fate at the very moment that there is a prospect of your being restored to your name and station.”