“But if a happy shot were to knock either of our superiors on the head, I should obtain the rank I merit,” replied the mate. “For that matter, I’ve seen service enough and done deeds sufficient to deserve being made a commander or post-captain.”
“Long life to you, Captain Crowhurst!” exclaimed Gerald. “If I was a Lord of the Admiralty I’d promote you to-day and superannuate you to-morrow. I don’t suppose the service would be greatly the loser.”
“That youngster requires a cobbing,” said Beater, who perceived what the other did not, that Gerald was laughing at him; and he pulled out his cob, prepared to inflict condign punishment.
“Now don’t, till the action’s over,” said Gerald, getting ready to make his exit from the berth; “then, if the enemy’s shot hasn’t taken either of our heads off, you’ll be welcome to do what you like—if you can catch me—and I don’t intend that you should do that same just now;” and Gerald sprang through the doorway out of reach of the irate old mate. The other members of the berth talked over the probabilities of the expected fight. One and all were ready enough for it, especially two or three who had never yet seen a shot fired in anger; they having but little conception of what the result of a hard-fought action would be, even should they prove victorious.
As soon as the Champion got within signalling distance of the commodore, Captain Olding reported three sail of the enemy in sight.
On this the Thisbe hoisted a signal to the Druid to join her, while the merchant vessels were directed to keep together and to stand on as they were steering. The three men-of-war now hauled up a little, the sooner to meet the enemy, the Champion being to windward of the frigates.
“Old Blowhard expects that the enemy will take us for the advanced frigates of a large fleet, and will probably think it wiser to keep out of our way than to come nearer,” observed Captain Olding to his first lieutenant, “Though we should beat them, we should gain but little by an action.”
“I agree with you, sir. I never fancied fighting for barren glory, I confess,” said Mr Tarwig; “and as our first duty is to defend our convoy, I conclude that the commodore will be satisfied if we can beat off the enemy.”
“We may hope to do that, even though the Champion will be somewhat overmatched; but I can trust to the ship’s company to do their duty,” said the captain, in a firm tone. “Clear the ship for action, Mr Tarwig.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the first lieutenant, giving the necessary orders. Lieutenant Foley and the other officers set about carrying them out with alacrity. He was glad to be actively employed, for many anxious thoughts oppressed his mind. He could not conceal from himself the fearful odds to which they were exposed, and what might possibly be the issue of the approaching conflict. One of the enemy was certainly greatly superior in force to the Champion, and the other two French ships might be much larger than the Thisbe and Druid. Even should their own ships be disabled, though not captured, many of the merchant fleet might fall a prey to the Frenchmen, and the Ouzel Galley might possibly be among the number. What then would be the fate of Ellen and her father? It was of the greatest importance to Mr Ferris to reach Jamaica without delay, and instead of that he might very likely be carried to France, or detained as a prisoner in one of the French West India islands; while Ellen must be exposed to much annoyance and suffering. He himself had no coward fears for his own life; but he knew full well, should he fall, the grief and anguish it would cause her.