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

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Maybe you’re right, captain; but see, she carries the English flag, and no Frenchman would have the impudence to come into our harbour,” said the pilot.

“That gentleman says she is French, and he ought to know, for he belonged to her,” observed the captain, pointing to Lieutenant Vinoy. Pat Monaghan, however, was not convinced; though, as the stranger was rapidly running out of the harbour again, he had no opportunity of ascertaining for himself. Under Pat’s pilotage the Ouzel Galley stood on up the harbour, which now narrowed considerably. At length she rounded Cheek Point, when with a fair wind she ran up the Suir, on the south bank of which Waterford is situated. It was late in the evening when at last she dropped her anchor off George’s Quay. Before her canvas was furled, Mr Ferris, the senior partner of her owners, Ferris, Twigg, and Cash, came on board, and warmly congratulated the captain on his safe return. On hearing of the gallant way in which possession of the Ouzel Galley had been regained, Mr Ferris invited Norah and Gerald to his house.

“My daughter Ellen will be delighted to see her old schoolfellow, Miss Tracy, who was a great favourite of hers,” he said; “and many of my friends will be glad to see your son, who from your account was the principal actor in your adventure.”

“I must not praise Gerald too much,” said Captain Tracy, after he had accepted the invitation; “my mate, Owen Massey, was the chief concoctor of the plot, and had I not a high opinion of his judgment and courage, I should not have ventured to give my consent to it.”

Before leaving the ship, Captain Tracy was anxious to be relieved of his prisoners. Mr Ferris hurried back to the chief magistrate of the town, who at once sent down a guard to march them off to the jail. The lieutenant, however, on being brought before him, was more courteously treated, and on giving his parole not to leave the town or to communicate with the enemy, he was allowed to be at large. As soon as he was set at liberty he received an invitation from Mr Ferris to take up his abode at his house in King Street.

Thankful indeed was Owen Massey when, the prisoners having been carried off, he was able to give up charge of the ship and go on shore. He had a home to go to, though an humble one, with his mother, who resided in a pretty little cottage in the outskirts of the town. She had seen better days, for both she and her husband were of ancient lineage; but he had been engaged in a long-protracted lawsuit, which he ultimately lost, and died, leaving her very limited means with which to support herself and their only child Owen. Captain Tracy, an old friend, offered to take Owen to sea; and the lad was delighted with the thoughts of the life in prospect. His mother had not only given him the best education the place afforded, but had sent him to Trinity College, Dublin, to complete his education. Here his means, however, did not allow him to remain long; but, being clever and diligent, he was better prepared than most lads were at that time for his future calling. He knew nothing about the Royal Navy, or he would certainly have desired to enter it, which he might easily have done had he possessed any friend able to get him placed on the deck of a man-of-war. He had, like other youths, read accounts of the voyages of the old explorers, of the adventures of the buccaneers, and other works; he was scarcely aware of the difference which then existed between the officers of the Royal Navy and merchant service. Captain Tracy, though anxious to promote his interests, did not think fit to enlighten him, as he fully believed that during the “piping times of peace” he would be far more likely to succeed in the latter than in the former service; and belonging to it himself, he rightly looked upon it as an honourable one.

Mrs Massey was struck by her son’s pale face and languid manner. The voyage over, the effects of his severe wound, and the long-continued anxiety he had suffered, at once told on him. She immediately sent for the best surgeon in the place. Dr Roach quickly arrived; he had a great respect for Widow Massey, and had known Owen, from his boyhood. On examining his wound he put on a grave face.

“It surprises me, my dear boy, that you could have managed to move about with so fearful a laceration,” he said; “it has been well and carefully dressed, I will allow, or you would not have been alive at this moment. Many a poor fellow has died from a less hurt than this. However, you will do well now, if you follow my directions; but you must lie by and get your mother to nurse you. Come, turn into bed at once; you are not fit to be about—you’ll get well the sooner.”

Owen expostulated; he had been on his legs for several days, and why should he now lie by? he asked.

“For the very reason that you have done more than you have strength for,” answered the doctor.