The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Twelve or fourteen miles to the westward from here,” answered the stranger. “I should think with this breeze you might get off it in less than a couple of hours.”

“We’ll lose no time, and the commander will, I am sure, afford every assistance in his power,” said Norman Foley. “Mr and Miss Ferris are friends of mine, and I will use every exertion to go to their assistance. But how do you know that they are so hard-pressed?” he added, anxiously. “Have you made your escape from the house?”

“I did not do so intentionally. Having set out with a number of others to obtain some yams, we were attacked by a party of blacks, and I was made prisoner. Happily I had done some service to two or three slaves among the party, and had saved them more than once from a flogging. While some of the others proposed putting me to death, they dragged me off among them, and before the rest of the gang knew what had happened, it being at night, they enabled me to get off. I made my way along the shore, as I knew that part of the country and recollected places where I could conceal myself. I felt pretty sure, however, that should the black leader or any other instigators of the rebellion discover that I had escaped they would send in pursuit of me. I could not move fast in the darkness, and had got to no great distance when daylight broke, so I climbed up into a big cotton-tree and hid myself among the mass of creepers to rest. I had intended trying to reach a fort where I could obtain assistance, but on looking out of my hiding-place in the morning I saw a party of blacks, who were apparently searching for me. I therefore crouched down among the creepers, where, as I was pretty well worn out, I fell asleep. At night I again pushed on, hoping that the blacks had given up the pursuit. I had reached the hill below which you saw me, when another day broke, and I had once more to hide myself for fear of being discovered. On looking out next morning I saw your ship approaching, and though I thought it probable that the blacks might still be looking for me, I hurried down in the hope that you would see me and would go to the assistance of my friends. But two days have passed since I left them, and I know not what may have happened in the meantime.”

Norman Foley’s anxiety was greatly increased by the account given him by Archie Sandys, for he it was who had so happily escaped destruction. He observed the lieutenant’s evident agitation, though he might not have suspected the cause. Gerald plied him with questions, and drew forth many particulars of the siege and defence of Bellevue.

On reaching the ship Norman Foley introduced Archie Sandys to the commander, who, learning from him the state of affairs at Bellevue, ordered the sails to be filled, and the Champion under every stitch of canvas she could carry stood along the coast. As she approached that part where, by Archie’s account, Bellevue was situated, a look-out was kept for a fitting landing-place for the boats. They had all been got ready for lowering. The marines, under their sergeant, and a party of blue jackets armed with muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, were ordered to be prepared to go in them with Mr Foley, Crowhurst, Mr Dobbs the boatswain, and Gerald; Archie Sandys was of course to accompany the expedition as a guide. On nearing the spot dense volumes of smoke were seen rolling along, driven by the wind, concealing the landscape from view.

Poor Norman was almost ready to give way to despair. His worst apprehensions were fulfilled. The savage blacks must have set the house on fire, and too probably its hapless inmates were destroyed. Many others on board thought as he did.

Gerald, who was looking out, however, suddenly exclaimed, “I see the top of the house above the smoke; the fire does not reach it. There is a flagstaff with two flags flying from it, though they are odd-looking ones.”

“It is my belief that they are petticoats, or some female gear,” exclaimed the master. “Yes, no doubt about it; the signal is pretty clear, it means females in distress. We’ll soon help you, my pretty maidens, whoever you are.”

Mr Foley had taken the glass. After carefully surveying the spot he began to breathe more freely. Yes, it was a wood on fire, some way below the house, and that might still be holding out. The flags, too, he discovered, were light muslin dresses, and he very likely suspected even then that one belonged to Ellen. It did not require that, however, to make him spring forward with even greater eagerness than he had more than once displayed when setting forth on a cutting-out expedition. He took the lead, the launch and pinnace following. He allowed his crew to dash on ahead of the other boats, for as they approached the shore rapid firing was heard. Even now the house was being attacked, and Archie had mentioned the scarcity of ammunition. Should there be any delay they might be too late to save its inmates. The thick smoke had concealed their approach, as it had the ship, from the view of the blacks as also from those in the house. The former, indeed, not expecting to be interfered with from the side of the sea, had not turned their eyes in that direction.

Norman had time to land, and with the assistance of Archie, who pointed out the different localities to form his plan of proceeding. It was to move to the right just outside the burning wood, then to charge up the hill under cover of the smoke and attack the enemy on the flank, so that their shot might not be directed towards the house. The other boats appeared to him to be pulling very slowly, but they arrived at last, and a small party of marines quickly formed with the blue jackets on either hand. The orders were given in a low voice, Norman and Archie leading in Indian file, and at a double quick march. They proceeded a short way along the shore, and then facing about they rushed up the hill, uttering a true English cheer. The blacks raised a cry of alarm. Those who with burning brands in their hands were attempting to mount the ladders let them drop, tumbling head over heels to the ground. Their companions scampered off, many throwing down their muskets. Their leader Cudjoe held his, and sullenly retired, but as several shots came whizzing past him, he increased his pace, till he began to run as fast as the rest, and the whole multitude took to their heels, shrieking with alarm, like a herd of swine, tumbling over each other down the hill, some making for the opposite height, others rushing along the valley.