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

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I should think, sir, that that was the worst they could wish a man,” said Gerald.

“Not at all, provided they don’t take any steps to carry out their wishes,” answered the lieutenant. “However, your messmate will not long be allowed to indulge in his dream.”

The Ouzel Galley was now one of the last of the fleet, most of the other vessels having passed her. The corvette was seen making signals to them to keep together; and now that they were so near their destination, they were all eager to hurry on, in spite of the risk of capture from any of the enemy’s men-of-war or privateers which might be lying in wait for them off the coasts of Cuba and Saint Domingo. Mr Foley had fully expected that by this time the Thisbe and Druid would have come up with them, but neither of the frigates had yet appeared. He took many an anxious glance astern; but the day drew on, and yet they were not in sight.

“I wish we could see them,” he observed to Owen; “for, though the Champion will give a good account of any ship of her own size, if more than one of the enemy’s cruisers were to get in among the fleet, some of them would be pretty sure to be carried off, as all, I fear, would not fight as well as you have done, Captain Massey.”

“We must run the chance, sir; it won’t do to be waiting for the frigates, and we may hope to get into Port Royal without another brush,” answered Owen.

By crowding on all the sail she could carry, the Ouzel Galley soon got again into the body of the fleet, which was now steering south in pretty compact order. When the next morning broke, the east end of Cuba was in sight, while the Champion was a short distance ahead, leading the fleet. A bright look-out was kept, but no strangers were seen. Some hours’ run brought the north-west end of Hispaniola in view. Ellen came on deck to enjoy her first sight of West Indian scenery. Lieutenant Foley was, as may be supposed, very happy in her society, and was in no hurry to make known his existence to his friends on board the Champion. He had as yet had no opportunity of signalling the corvette; he therefore entertained the hope that he might be able to remain on board till their arrival at Port Royal.

The fleet was about half-way across the broad bay of Gonaves, formed by two headlands which stretch out on the western side of Hispaniola, when two sail were seen standing out from the north-eastern corner. They were large ships, but whether friends or foes it was difficult to determine. Soon after they were discovered they spread more canvas. This circumstance was suspicious; signals were made by the Champion and some of the nearer ships, and she hauling her wind stood back towards the strangers. They, however, pressed on as before. Mr Foley and Gerald were now wishing that they were on board.

“If those are either French or Spaniards, the Champion will have a brush with them, sir; big as they are, she’ll beat them off too,” exclaimed Gerald. “I wish we could go and help her. What do you say, Captain Massey?”

“That, with our diminished crew, we could be of no real assistance; besides which, it is our duty to get into harbour as quickly as possible,” answered Owen. “I am sure Lieutenant Foley will agree with me.”

“There is no doubt about it,” said the lieutenant, who would have been very unwilling, on Ellen’s account, to run the ship into danger, even had he not seen the folly of so doing. The Champion having placed herself between the strangers and the fleet, again kept away. She apparently was satisfied that they were enemies, and too large to attack with any hope of success.