“Give way, my lads, give way,” shouted Denham to his crew; “we must be back before the ship sinks, or I am afraid many a fine fellow will lose his life.”
The men rowed as hard as they could, and in a short time they again reached the frigate. No time was lost in handing up those on board.
“Whom have we here?” asked Captain Falkner.
“Lord Kilfinnan, and his daughter, and niece,” answered Denham, “and several other ladies and midshipmen. But we must be back to the ship, for they expect every moment that she will go down.”
“Mr Evans,” said Captain Falkner, “we must get out the launch and pinnace; the sea is calm enough now to allow us to do so.”
While the rest of the boats already in the water, having put those they carried on board the frigate, pulled back to the line-of-battle ship, the larger boats were cleared and hoisted out, though not without the risk of being stove alongside. The smaller boats had already made a couple of trips before they were ready to shove off for the ship. At length away they pulled, but as they reached the side of the ship the cry arose, “She is sinking—she is sinking.” Numbers of the brave fellows who had hitherto preserved their discipline now threw themselves headlong into the boats. The marines still remained drawn up on deck, where they had been posted to preserve order. Already all the boats were full almost to sinking, and with their living freight they proceeded slowly back to the frigate; she, meantime, had been drawing nearer and nearer the ship. Still the vast fabric floated above the waves; many yet remained on board. The gallant marines stood as if on parade; the officers who had refused to quit the ship clustered on the quarter-deck. Who could have believed that all knew that in not many moments the planks on which they stood would be engulfed by the waves, yet so it was; British discipline triumphed above the fear of death.
With frantic haste the men in the boats sprang up the side of the frigate, in order that they might speedily return to the ship. Already they were half way between the two vessels when the line-of-battle ship lifted high her bows above the water, then down she plunged, still with many human beings standing on her decks, numbers, alas! sinking never to rise again. The boats dashed forward into the midst of the vortex caused by her sudden descent. It seemed for a moment that they also would be drawn down by it. On every side were human beings, some already dead it seemed, others crying out for assistance, while some, refusing to express their fears, were striking out boldly for life towards the boats. There were but few, alas! of the brave marines; it seemed as if they must have grasped their muskets to the last, and gone down with those heavy weights in their hands. Eagerly the boats pulled backwards and forwards among their fellow-creatures still floating in the water; as rapidly as they could they pulled them on board, till at length all who appeared alive were rescued. But it was too certain that a very large number both of officers and crew had gone down in the sinking ship.
Such has been the fate of many a gallant crew in every part of the world. The survivors were carried on board the frigate, and treated with every kindness which the officers and crew were able to bestow. The gallant captain of the line-of-battle ship, two of his lieutenants, and several inferior officers, with nearly half of the marines, were lost. The frigate having once more hoisted her boats on board, made sail for Port Royal.
The Earl of Kilfinnan, on discovering the name of the frigate by which he had been rescued, inquired at once for his son. His cheek turned pale when he did not see him with the midshipmen of the ship. The truth was told him that he had been wounded.
“But he is doing well, my lord,” said the surgeon to whom he was speaking; “before long I hope he will be able to return to his duty.”